#Freshmen in the big ocean

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Ego: What's a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn't quite so sweet and innocent? Well, he's a grown-ass man, and you're about to learn that the hard way. https://suga-kookiemonster.tumblr.com/post/185053634904/ summary-whats-a-girl-to-do-when-her-sweet Paradise: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?! https://minisugakoobies.tumblr.com/post/659882895568207872/last-update-71622-pairing-jungkook-x Scattered Stars: It's easy to despise Jungkook when your contradicting magic doesn't allow you to touch each other without fatal consequences - but what if your eternal enemy turns out to be your soulmate with whom you, unfortunately, do fall in love with? https://taegularities.tumblr.com/post/649392196418732032/scattered-stars-jjk-m Collision: No matter how many years pass between you and Jungkook - you will never cherish and worship each other less than you did on day one. https://taegularities.tumblr.com/post/650660405291646976/scattered-stars-collision-jjk-m A Thousand Reasons Why: After leaving to work towards his dream rather than the bonds that shackle him to home, you didn't expect to see Jungkook again years later at your best friend's wedding. And even less, for love to rekindle at second glance. https://taegularities.tumblr.com/post/661442422287581184/a-thousand-reasons-why-jjk-m Stars Behind Waves: With a decade's distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realize once again - the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes. https://taegularities.tumblr.com/post/691157794938929152/stars-behind-waves-jjk-m I Heard A Rumor: One slip of a finger, and you realize you’ve liked an Insta photo of college hotshot Jeon Jungkook…from two years ago. You manage to unlike it within seconds, except it’s too late — Damn Kim Namjoon and his lightning-fast eyes. Do not tell a soul, you hiss. The man merely smirks. Next thing you know, a rumor is spread throughout campus. Y/n likes Jungkook…and now he knows. https://taeshobipop.tumblr.com/post/676354408512143360/i-heard-a-rumor-jjk Always You: You and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. What happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend? https://taestefully-in-luv.tumblr.com/post/648413649157914624/ always-you-jjk-one Rule # 5: You strike up a FWB deal with your childhood friend Jungkook after kissing him one night after a dare. But you have rules… 5 of them to be exact and it seems Jungkook doesn’t want to follow any of them. https://www.tumblr.com/taestefully-in-luv/698524352697810944/rule-5-jjk-12?source=share Lunar Violence: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes. https://taetaesbaebaepsae.tumblr.com/post/635110223990898688/lunar-violence-jjk

[cheezeybread]

Random Twisted Wonderland Headcanons I have that I feel the need to share with the world, sucks to be anyone reading this!

KALIM

Kalim wasn't going to be invited to NRC, obviously, since he didn't have "exemplary" magic, as either Jamil or Crowley said in the game (I forgot which, FORGIVE ME), but it's clear that he would have been accepted into Royal Sword Academy due to his nature.

Kalim's family knew that Kalim would have been safer at Royal Sword, but they also knew that the school wouldn't accept their "donations" as well. Plus, they knew Jamil was going to NRC, and knew how much Kalim had bonded to the boy.

And, obviously, Jamil would be more than happy to watch over Kalim and ensure that he gets better at magic and has a good time, right? So off to NRC you go, Kalim! Oh, lookie here, you're in the same dorm as Jamil now! How convenient!

So, to sum it up, the Asim family made sure Kalim got into NRC despite the "dangerous" students because they knew Jamil would be there to protect and serve him. Ouchies

MERFOLK

Two different kinds of merfolk- sirens and fishfolk (aka, the kinds of merfolk desended from animals-- not sure what to call them, so fisfolk is a placeholder lol--, like the tweels and Azul). Sort of the same vibe as Beastmen and humans

While it's not technically cannibalism for a "fishfolk" to eat the creature they're descended from, a lot of cultures believe it to be a sin to do so, and some just get the willies from it.

Nudity is really not a big deal to merfolk. Like, most of them don't wear clothes, and those that do only wear robes and stuff to symbolize their class/status in society underwater. On land, they have to have a crash course in how to wear clothes and what to wear when. Floyd was very prone to accidentally forget to wear clothes and wander the halls of Octavinelle naked during his freshman year (much to the horror of his dorm members)

The Merfolk don't eat each other 24/7, nor pose as much of a threat to each other as wild animals do- some find it extremely offensive that land-dwellers assume all mer-predators eat whatever other merpeople they can sink their teeth into. They live together in a society similar to the one on land. Of course, the elements and wild creatures pose more of a threat to them than natural land-predators, but the merfolk themselves aren't in the habit of killing one another.

HOWEVER, there is a special law amongst them that if another merperson is causing undue harm to them/a loved one, murder is justified. And, of course, they must consume the flesh of the merperson killed and send the head back to the killed one's family for closure reasons. They may not eat each other that often, but in the Ocean, it's more natural and well-accepted to eat whoever you killed (in self-defense, ofc, if it wasn't in self-defense, then you are going to JAIL, queen!) to show that you respected the fight they put up and to honor their memory. It's more of an ancient tradition that's now just a part of what they do.

HEARSLABYUL

This one was brought to me in a VISION (aka me reading part 3 of Cater's Vignette for one of his cards when I noticed the background Heartslabyul students all had Suit characters on their faces)

All of the dorm members are assigned a "card suit" after their orientation- this suit is determined by the Housewarden (who is assigned the role of the "king/queen" of the dorm and doesn't need a suit), who bases his decision off of the personality of the student, their grades, and their ambitions. No one but the Housewarden knows why they're put in the suit they are.

There's a big initiation ceremony when the Housewarden finishes deciding the Suits for the freshmen, and they host a special ceremony in their dorm's yard that involves a series of tasks for the freshmen to go through- involving a maze-run with juniors chasing after them, a hedgehog obstacle course, and a special game that the Housewarden makes per year off of one of the Queen of Heart's rules. Once the initiation ceremony is done, and the suits are given to each freshmen, they will then be responsible for painting their suit on their face wherever they want to for the rest of their time on campus.

IGNIHYDE

For most Housewardens, a student needs to challenge the existing housewarden and duel them to claim their title.

For Ignihyde, they do things differently. Because they're all more skilled in technology for the most part, they'll have a challenge to see who can build something the best (whether it be a robot, a toy machine, etc etc- the decision of what to make will be voted on by the dorm members). At the end of the challenge, all of the students in the dorm will vote on who did the best- but they aren't told which invention was made by whom as to avoid favoritism, and boom! That's the new Dorm Leader.

Idia brought Ortho into the dorm and everyone just assumed that that was his challenge to the existing dorm leader LMAO

It really wasn't....but the current dorm leader was so in awe of Ortho and Idia's intelligence that he gave up his position (practically forcing it into Idia lol) for him.

[elfieafterdark]

It's the first day of school. Santa Monica is the same as it always is. The September air probably isn't actually that cold, but it certainly feels cold to Harrow Tridentarius.

She's spent seven years living here, with her adoptive family. Her real family. She wakes up, gets dressed in her new fit (now with more mesh), packs her bag, and heads downstairs.

Corona must still be asleep, but she can always count on Ianthe to have woken up and made coffee.

"Mornin' Harry." Ianthe says, looking like a pale fairy queen, if said Queen short shorts and a big university sweater. "Sleep all right?"

"Yes, thanks." Harrow replies, grabbing her favorite travel mug and the coffee pot. "You?"

"Not really, but what's new huh?" Ianthe is lounging in a really big leather bar chair. Picking at some toast.

"Aww, I'm sorry Thay." Harrow tops off her travel mug with a healthy dose of creamer, then digs through the fridge for a Pop-Tart. "What are you up to today?"

Ianthe sets her plate down and grins, "I don't have classes until tomorrow. So naturally I'm going to a party tonight."

"Judith?"

"Hah, no. Dulcie."

"Makes sense." Harrow shoves the foil wrapped pastries into her oversized pockets. She hugs her sis, and makes for the entryway. "I got to run."

"Be late for once Harry." Ianthe says, "You know you don't have to arrive at school an hour early right?"

"I like to-"

"I know I know, you like to get your locker sorted and figure out where all your classes are." Ianthe gingerly picks up a piece of toast again, buying like it's plotting something. "Love you! Have fun! Get sloppy, make bad choices!"

Harrow rolls her eyes, slipping on her dark purple high tops. "Love you too, make sure to drink water." And she's out in the street.

She loves Santa Monica, she loves the ocean, she loves the beach, she loves the salty air. She loves the piers, she loves all of it.

It's way better than Montana that's for sure. She shudders, either from the chill or from remembering that ranch she spent her early years on.

Doesn't matter. They're gone. Anna is doing well, she's doing well. She walks, she doesn't need to, she could have someone drive her. Mom's, well there's no way around it, mom is loaded.

But Harrow likes to walk. She likes to look around, she likes to see how things along the route she always walks change day to day. The old bakery, the new five-story tall multi-use buildings. The dog who's always lounging on the porch of that old house.

Canaan secondary school is the same as it always is, an upscale architectural nightmare of faux stone and glass. It's perfect. Seems like she isn't the only person here either, a few cars in the student parking lot, a bus full of nervous freshmen pulling up. Noise. But the comfortable kind of noise.

She gets her schedule, and is grateful to see a few familiar teachers. As well as a new name: M. Cristabel for biology.

Wonder who she is.

Harry hits a brisk pace to her new locker, which is mercifully down in the art wing of the school. Her favorite haunt, walls plastered with noteworthy projects from last year.

A few excessively dark and tastefully macabre samples are her own. She's proud of her art. Of herself. Even if she is a little bit strange. The polished floors shine, and her converse squeak a little as she goes.

She scouted out all her classes, she's crammed all her unnecessary stuff into her locker. (Extra hygiene products, extra non-perishable snacks, a spare jacket because she gets really cold randomly; and so on). Now she can find her friends, or wait for them if they aren't here yet.

Down the main hall she goes. Past the somehow even more nervous freshmen, down the front steps.

And she crashes into something sturdy with red hair.

"Oh shit!" The red haired sturdy thing, a girl apparently, says with some kind of new england accent.

Harrow falls, drops her stuff, namely her Pop-Tart. But none of that really matters. Not when she looks up and sees the girl. Tanned skin, freckles, a swishy top of hair and shaved sides. A flannel tied around her waist. Jeans and a white tank top. Mirrored aviators slipping off her nose.

"I'm so sorry!" The tall and muscled girl blurts out, "Oh God I hope I didn't hurt you."

"No harm. I'm all good." Harrow says, smiling as this slab of girl helps her up. "You did accidentally smash my breakfast though."

"Fuck." The girl says, "We got a bit of time before class starts, can I buy you something from the corner store?"

Oh. Uh oh... This girl is smooth. Chances of her being like Harrow are pretty low of course... But what's the harm right?

"Well I'd have to know your name first." Harrow says with a smirk.

"Right. Gideon. Gideon Dve." Says Gideon, Gideon Dve.

"I'm Harrow."

"Your name is Harrow? That's actually badass. Okay Harrow, can I take you to the corner store and buy you some replacement breakfast?"

Harrow feels a shiver, like a drop of cold water running down her spine. It's not at all unpleasant though.

"Yes," she says, "I'd like that. Lead the way, Gideon."

[opheliasam]

Thoughts on Stanford Era SamBenny 👀 ? Potentially? Perhaps?

Hmmm

I’m a staunch samjess truther re: stanford era, i do think they met in freshman year, which makes it a Little harder for Sam to meet anyone else. But as far as one night stands/ explorations go… very appealing

It’s late, Sam’s at the bar, final exam just ended. Maybe it’s a dare, maybe it’s a thing he brought up shyly that Jess wants him to further explore… or maybe it’s a one night stand pre-jess..

BUT.

Update: Okay, wow, this ran away from me. Absolutely didn’t intend for it. Gencest-Mature.

It’s a late night in some indistinct bar, off the corner of a shady part of town and Sam’s hunched over in a quiet corner, laptop propped up on a surface that’s surprisingly, magically, not sticky.

It’s a Monday night, and the bar is worse off for it; lighting dim and mood somber. Drifters and grifters.

Sam had a quiz today. (Mondays are quiz days.) Sam’s quiz went fine - more than fine if he allows himself that, but that’s not the point. The point is.

To be very frank, Sam doesn’t even know what the point is—about why he’s here and not in the library and he’d rather not investigate it, thank you. He just knows that it’s sometimes easier to study at noisy bars than elsewhere. To just be. And that’s fine. It is.

He sighs. The glare of his lap offending. He won't get done with this paper tonight.

Sam likes college. He really does.

He does, it's just - Mondays were heavy, and so were Tuesdays, and so were Wednesdays and Thursdays and well, Fridays were a blur of office hours and discussion sessions. Sam hadn't quite figured out what to do with his weekends yet, they were mostly reserved for passing out and freshmen events. Needless to say, Sam's schedule was less than “ideal”.

It's not something Sam really wants to admit to himself.

12-15 units is ideal for your first quarter, the UG Handbook had said. Sam remembers scrolling down stubbornly past that until he got to the part . The maximum number of academic units a first-quarter frosh may enroll in is 20, the rough equi—

Well, then.

He remembers his Cohort leader frowning upon hearing his plans for the semester, kind brown eyes wide with concern, "You should slow down, Sam. Take a breather."

Remembers stubbornly thinking then that coming to Stanford was the breather. Just getting there. Cursed may be the freshmen who take a full course load but it’s nothing that Sam’s not used to. He could do it. The rigour made him feel purposive, focused; free.

That had been five weeks ago.

People trickle in and trickle out, their presence noisy and solid, and Sam thinks vaguely about sleep studies and ocean sounds. Sleepless people desperately needing sleep. Sleepless people wanting to be whales.

Chastises himself for the judgement—they don’t want to be whales. They just—they just want sleep. It’s fine. It’s normal. It’s all fine. It’s—

The thing is, Sam knows need. He knows desperation too. He’s just never known this specific shade of desperate need.

If you walk out that door—

His chest suddenly feels tight with rage, white-hot and grievous. Ugly. Sam clenches his fist.

A glass clinks down in front of him. He watches it grumble at it is slides closer; wide fingers wrapped around it.

An Old Fashioned, served in a stern looking glass except for one little addition. it’s got a little umbrella in it. His lips quirk up, the rage settling into something gentler. Wait—Sam looks up, confused, “Hey, I don’t think I ordered—“

“My man, bar’s closing, and you’ve been in here for the last 5 hours treating it like it’s a goddamn library. It’s on the house, come on.”

It’s the Bartender.

Sam took notice of him when he arrived, but it was nothing more than cursory at the time.

But now...

The Bartender is a big dude. He’s dressed comfortably, a plaid overshirt draped casually over a black tee. His shoulders are very broad. He’s handsome, there’s no question about it.

He's bigger than Sam too—at least in terms of muscle mass; stockier.

He seems older, and he has one of the most impressive goatees Sam's ever seen. It would look stupid on almost anyone else, but it frames the bartender's solid jaw just right.

Sam smiles. Alright then.

Can’t hurt.

“Only if you drink with me.”

Mr. Cool-Beard-Guy-Bartender looks surprised, his eyes glinting in the dark. They look like church windows against the frigid, a frigid glass tone. His pupils are very, very black.

“Alright, Chief.” He answers, smiling with too white teeth.

Sam’s breath picks up.

“It’s your call.”

Easy.

The thing is, Sam shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t.

There’s something about this guy that Sam can’t put a finger on, and it should make Sam rethink this drink, should make him shove his laptop in his bag and get the hell out of here, should should should—

Instead, heat curls in Sam’s stomach. The conflict a siren song; the line between fear and arousal so thin it makes him hazy.

The door rattles loudly as the last customer heads out, snapping Sam out of his head. A slurry “G’night Brother” signaling a less than grand exit.

Watches the bartender as he mock salutes at the closed door, then winks at Sam. “ ‘Smiracle he still knows night from day.”

Sam can't help his smile. Funny. Mr. Cool-Beard-Guy-Bartender’s funny.

Sam’s way too sober for this but - what the hell, It’s 2 am, and past curfew anyway; he’ll have to spend the night outside.

He will, and if a handsome stranger is offering.

Well. It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for him.

Looking out for him.

He watches as the bartender gets another glass out, pours into it. It’s all very slow and deliberate. A show. A performance.

A seduction.

Sam inhales sharply and tastes air that’s thick with anticipation.

Before his brain can overthink this to the point of ruin, he clinks their glasses together and gulps the whole thing down like a shot.

He immediately regrets it; coughing and spluttering viciously as the acrid liquid settles in his stomach.

He can hear the guy chuckling while he’s having his near-death experience. It’s just rude.

He looks up at the Bartender, trying to make his eyes as disapproving as possible. It’s not very successful because it just makes the Bartender grin harder.

Dick.

Sam hasn’t had a drink in a while. Well, not since his freshman initiation, that’s for sure. And that was well over 5 whole weeks ago.

Cool Beard Guy Bartender hands him a lemon.

“Suck on that.” He instructs.

Sam wants to make a dirty joke. It’s funny. It’s actually, really funny and Sam’s trying very hard not to giggle.

“Uh…”

Cool Beard Guy Bartender puts his hands up, as if to say “hey I didn’t say anything.” Typical. Cool Beard Guy—alright, you know what, Sam can’t keep doing this.

“What’s your name, I mean,” sucks on the lemon. The sourness of it is grounding. It actually helps. Sam wonders if his thumb is going to taste like the lemon later. “—you don’t have to say it if you don’t want to—you know, it’s just I can’t keep calling you Cool Beard Guy—.”

Shuts up. Oh no. Oh no.

He flushes red.

You’re such a lightweight, Sammy.

Stupid big brother laugh. Stupid big leather jacket that didn’t fit right. Stupid big brother hands holding him up; cheap metal rings digging into his ribs. At the center of it all, a promise in the shape of a charm. A gift revoked, and a gift given.

So much warmth it threatens to suffocate—so much joy Sam’s giddy with it.

“Benny.”

“Hm?”

“My name.” He says, with a grin.

Right. Fuck. Focus, Sam chastises inwardly.

“Short for Benjamin?”

“Short for nothing at all.” The Bartender says with a smirk. It's restrained.

There’s a distinctive southern drawl in his voice that’s making it so much harder for Sam to think properly.

Sam’s feeling fidgety. There’s something about this guy that reminds him too much of hunts. Too much of scattered homes, and monsters and D—

“ ‘Nother.”

“You sure about that, Chief?”

Sam nods, grinning. He likes that. He likes being called Chief.

Benny’s quiet. His hand wavers where it’s holding the bottle and the silence stretches and squeezes.

His gaze is piercing, both hungry and conflicted. Sam knows that look. He’s seen that look, so many times.

“Nah, I think you’re good, Big Guy.”

The thought vanishes.

Sam’s eyebrows scrunch up. He thinks he must pout because Benny ducks his gaze, laughs a little breathlessly and downs his own drink. It was bigger than Sam’s own.

Must have—must have been. Sam feels very drunk.

Benny pours another and downs it too. It’s almost impressive.

Almost.

Sam watches. And watches; waiting.

He’s pouring a third one for himself before Sam clasps his hand over Benny’s wrist. Turns it over. He’s very cold.

“...Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

Sam needs him. Sam doesn’t want him to get drunk just because Sam is drunk. That’s not—it’s not right. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

“No.” Shakes his head. “No.”

Benny looks at him, searching. Closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. Breathes out. When he opens his eyes, they’re much darker.

“Okay. Alright then, no.”

Sam’s still holding his hand. Slides it down so it’s covering his palm. They’re slightly smaller than his, but wider. Rougher, like a carpenter. Or a hunter.

Sam shudders.

He can feel Benny watching him, careful. The way you track a prey. Sam would know, wouldn’t he?

Drags the glass to his mouth. Both of their hands clasped over the drink like a ritual. Or a promise. And tips it over into his drying mouth.

It still burns. And he’s going to have a hell of a hangover later. Scotch on rocks.

Just like Dad, huh Sammy?

His eyes burn. He blinks furiously. Not now. Not now.

“What’s the matter, Darlin’?”

Sam snorts at that, shakes his head. He’s not—he’s not.

“Are we—we just. We just gonna talk all night...Or ?” He slurs. Waves his hand between them meaningfully.

Benny laughs at that. Bemused.

“Whatever you want, Chief.”

Back to Chief again. Good. Good.

“I … I know what I want.”

Benny’s staring straight at him, his eyes calculating. It makes Sam feel—

“Do you…also want?”

Benny chuckles at that. His tone is sombre when he replies though, darker. Voice, gravel.

“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”

The honesty of it is staggering, has him feeling a little faint.

He watches as Benny swallows hard, then mirrors him.

And that’s that then.

Sam leans forward the same moment Benny leans back, catches him by his shoulders; his head knocks into Benny’s chest.

Whomp.

The embarrassment hits him like a pail of cold water.

He pulls back, flushed red. Confused. The anger comes easily enough.

“What the hell, dude?”

“Sweetheart...”

“It’s Sam. It’s Sam.”

“Alright. Sam. It’s late. It doesn’t matter what I want but I don’t want...I don’t want you waking up in the morning and punching me in the face, alright?”

Sam stares, confused. What the hell was he talking about.

Fuck this guy.

“What? What is it? You suddenly grow a moral compass? You don’t wanna fu—”

Sucks in a breathe. He suddenly wants to punch the guy. Feels so small.

“You don’t w—.” Clenches his teeth. His tongue betrays him anyway. “Me?” He breathes out, struggling.

Benny looks surprised, to his credit.

“Darl-"corrects himself, "Sam. I haven’t been able to take my damn eyes off of you since you walked in here with that scary lookin’ gadget of yours.” His southern twang playing with the vowels of the sea.

So easy admitted. So easily given away. The sincerity of it stuns. Sam’s heart does a thing. Idiot.

He makes him so shy. Makes him needy. He’s so drunk, and he misses home so, so terribly. And he wishes He were here. He wants-- He wants his big brother. He wants his big brother beside him. Looking out for him. Keeping him safe. He needs.

The admission burns like shame.

“Please.” His eyes blur over.

“What’s wrong?” Easy, warm. Inviting. Worried.

Worried.

Sam shakes his head.

Benny's eyes furrow.

“I want—I want to go home.” His voice breaks, and it’s humiliating.

Benny’s eyes are so, so kind.

“Come on, kid.”

There’s hands dragging him up and there’s hands holding him there. One of Sam’s hands slung over Benny’s neck. A parody of a memory long lost.

Big burly hands. Salt and brine. The back of his neck is so cold too. This should mean something. This should.

“You’re fu-fucking cold, you know that?”

Gets a chuckle in return. “I’ve been told.”

“Are you drunk?”

Pause. “…Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well, yeah...yeah. I mean—two drinks is a-a lot.” Eyes wide.

Silence. Sam can feel Benny’s breath growing more laboured.

“It’s not the Whiskey doing it.” The admission is strained, quiet. Followed by a dark chuckle.

Sam doesn’t quite follow, but it’s okay. It’s getting harder to think. He trusts. He trusts Benny.

Benny, the kind stranger with a no-name bar and too white teeth and the darkest pupils he's ever seen.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my place.”

Sam doesn’t struggle or startle at that. He wants this. He does. Lets himself get bundled into the car. Let’s Benny take the wheel. Curls up in the backseat and stares at the moon.

It’s so warm in the car.

Blankets shared over winter nights on the road, a crooning lullaby - spoken in staticky tones. A rattling vent spitting out waves of heat that still don't entirely warm him up.

"Dean, turn it up!"

“It’s really warm.”

Benny hums at that. “Do you want me to turn the heater down?”

“No, I mean—it’s nice.” Pauses. “It’s really nice.”

He catches Benny’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Smiles.

“Thanks, Sugar.”

Sam wants to take offence at it, but it fails him.

Sam doesn’t remember much of anything else, but he does remember hanging on to him like a vise. He remembers clinging on and trying to breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Remembers being put to bed. Doesn’t remember much after that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam wakes up with a start, disoriented, to the sound of a motor bike starting. There’s a blanket wrapped around him and one of his shoes is on the floor.

He's barely out of the bed when last night decides to rear its ugly head; nausea swells like a wave and Sam scrambles to make to make it out of bed -

Vomit hits the floor with a wet dripping noise, sincere in all of its awfulness.

Sam groans. Great, can't help but sit down and stare despondently at the stupid mess. He wants to clean up, but it's just too much effort, he wishes he could just lie here a while, but it's not an option.

One, two, three - okay, again.

One, two, three - up.

Empty house. Empty flat. He walks around for a while, searching for water - his head an angry throb. He staggers over to the fridge and opens it to see it empty except for a singular water bottle, something that looks like dirt water, and a note.

He opts for the bottle first, downs the whole thing in one go, and groans. Too soon. His stomach grumbles unhappily, acrid bile pooling on his tongue, souring his mouth.

Sam sits down, parched throat now burning, and tries not to think about how he should have read the note first, shouldn't have acted so hastily.

Shouldn't shouldn't shouldn't.

He's so tired, already.

He knows what Dad would have said, what Dean would have said, and they're starting to sound like the same voice.

Something blisters beneath his skin.

The note.

When he reaches for the fridge door, it is urgent. He feels unsettled. The note is a neatly folded white printing paper, it says - "Drink the brown stuff first - it's good hangover cure." Handwriting scribbled, but still cursive, still elegant. It's sweet.

It's also surprising - it's not what he would have expected a dingy bar owner's (or was it bartender?) handwriting to look like. He tries to smile but there's something here.

Something he's not willing to accept here, he knows that.

Vamp -

He slams the fridge door shut.

There's nothing here that remotely suggests that. Nothing happened, there's nothing that incriminates Benny in the least. It's not like that - nothing happened.

Why'd he just leave all of a sudden, Sammy?

Fuck OFF, Dean.

It could have just been a bad one night stand. It was a bad one night stand - that's all. He embarrassed himself, Benny left. It was fine, it didn't mean anything. It didn't.

Okay. Focus. Did he bring his bag? Did he bring anything at all. His laptop. He needed to find his laptop. Sam wishes he weren't being as frantic as he was now, but fuck it, Dad wasn't here to tell him to get it together - he was allowed to freak out about this. It was allowed.

It was normal.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

A single thought keeps flowing in his head, turning over and over like a strand of DNA, extending vertically across himself. He feels like the thread and then, doesn't feel at all.

Home isn't real. Home isn't real, home isn't real. It's just you, alone.

He just has to go from here, that's all. He just has to leave and he just has to make sure that they doesn't get to know.

He doesn't chug the brown mud-water down (herbal hangover, c'mon), doesn't investigate anymore than he needs to (knows it is a conscious overlook on his part, knows he's doing it for a reason, knows that he is running away-)

His hands shake when he goes to dial his phone. His hands tremble with it. He doesn't know what he's doing, he needs - That's when the phone rings.

'Dad.'

oh fuck, what the hell, what the actual HELL.

He feels dangerously on edge, slanting - the precipice so much closer than he could have imagined. He feels equal parts trepidation and relief, doesn't know what to call this. The knot in his throat screams.

He could scream, he could scream at the phone and tell Dad to fuck off, to help him, to try and get him because he's fucking scared, but he won't. He won't.

He neutralizes himself. He's not this person, he doesn't run to fucking dad. He knows how to deal with this.

The phone stops ringing.

When he leaves the delipidated building, he doesn't look back. It's much too familiar a gesture to investigate, so Sam doesn't. His backpack is simultaneously heavier and lighter, the letter and the hangover-cure tucked securely in the second zip-pocket of his bag.

He pretends not to notice the phone booth outside of the house, and if there is a shadow in the bushes - he hopes it is imagined.

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

Okay ! Well, that took me way to long to write, over nearly 40 (or what it feels like) weeks of downright terribleness (re: personal life) but yayy

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Day 1 (September 23) - Family/Childhood

The day was blissfully calm and perfect for a nice sweet calm fall season.

The dorm of Heartslabyul was calm after a long long week of crazy class and club schedules, enjoying the smooth transition of hard student life to a relaxing hang out in the dorm’s lounge as Trey brought over more snacks and tea to study. 

The green haired gent looked up as the dorm’s head, Riddle Rosehearts, walked into the lounge with some papers of the dorm schedule and smiles. Even after being in Night Raven for a few years he always maps out every little thing that is needed to keep his dorm in order.

“Hmm? Nah, I’ve been in love before.”

Riddle and his vice dorm head look to their left at the large couch in the lounge and stare at one of their freshmen, a red haired boy with crazed taste for many insane adventures and rebellion against the morals and rules of Heartslabyul and Night Raven Collage itself named Ace Trappola, a lovely thorn in their Queen’s side.

Ace sits lazily in the couch’s center being surrounded by his fellow mates of Heartslabyul, hands busy with cards shuffling back and forth with a grin and healthy glow of flush that barely covers his soft freckles.

One of the other freshmans laughed, “Oh yeah, that girlfriend you mentioned from your Junior days.”

Ace laughs some in return, a hand reaching up and rubbing his neck’s back, “Well, no, actually. With her we weren’t that long into serious town. Nah, I mean someone else.”

Riddle bit back a sigh as he rolled his eyes, annoyed the calm afternoon was done thanks to Ace wanting to brag about his love life as self-centered as he always is. He turned his back away and looked at the schedule again, ready to interrupt this “lovely tale” with his words as another student pipes up, “Eh?? You have a list of hearts Trappola?”

“Huh? No dumb-dumb! I’m certain at the time she was my soul mate. My… first love.”

The words stopped Riddle from stopping the words that flow out the ginger’s mouth like running water.

“It was a few days before my 9th birthday, my mum just picked me up from my sports club activities and took me and my big brother to town so she can do some shoppin’. I was wondering about when I saw her.”

Ace smiles as the faint glow of nostalgic glee fills his red eyes, “She had this red ribbon in her hair and these big beautiful blue eyes, like the ocean was in her eyes instead of color. And man was her smile just so damn cute~”

Everyone looked at Ace, smiling at the surprisingly wholesome expression on his face as he talked about this mystery girl.

“Well don’t hold us out Ace-Chan, what’s her name~?” Pestered Cater with a happy grin, his hands and face features proving he’s just melting over how cute this is becoming than how it may have started if the wild card said something else with love.

Ace shrugged, “I don’t know.”

. . .

“HUH!?”

“How do you not know? Did you never ask?!” Called out Deuce, peacock eyes widen like the tea cups on the table that stare at Ace who rubbed his ear from the outburst near him.

“I tried to get her name but I was too late okay?!” After he sighs, Ace went on, “I saw her again the next day and I entered this tea cafe my family loved to go to, Mad Hat’s Tea House, they had this little book nook area where you rent stories and whatevers. And there she was, sitting at one of the tables reading a book on Magic Tricks. So I went up to her and we chatted for a bit. But then after I told her my name and she was just about to tell me her’s… Her mum called for her. And I never saw that girl again…”

Riddle’s eyes soften at the clear ache in Ace’s words when telling the tragedy of meeting, to whom he assumed, his “soul mate” only to never meet her again. Isn’t that ironic..? He thought to himself.

His blue-gray eyes soon caught Ace’s very name on the schedule for hedgehog feedings and pushed his tinted lips out in thought. 

“What about you, Dorm Head? Ever been in love~?”

Ace’s familiar teasing tone brought Riddle back to the world of reality as he held back a sign of “Oh dammit to Hell, here we go again” in his throat.

Black gloves gripping the paper slightly harsher before he spoke, mentally weighing the idea of amusing the very thought until the decision was made, “For your information, yes, I have. But that was just some puppy love of youth.”

The dorm erupted in questions when hearing such news from their house prefect, the very idea of him admitting to a childhood love is a shock after all!

“Come on, come on don’t tease us with a taste Riddle-San! Tell us more~ More~!” Whined Cater which honestly with the utter display of his spring green puppy dog eyes and quivering peachy pink pouty lips was amusing for the red head to see.

Bringing his hands up, Riddle waved in small back and forth as he suppressed the small smile of amusement as his voice croaked in words, “Okay okay, just calm down first.”

He almost snorted seeing everyone sit down fast like it’s Circle Story Time for a bunch of children.

The dorm leader brought a knuckle up and cleared his throat before he perked up, “I was 10 and at the time I was, well, on a tight leash if I shall be honest. My mother was in serious need of grocery shopping for our usual things and so she took me along. We arrived at a tea cafe to gather some of the special tea leaves my mother loved, and she allowed me to wander a bit. Then…”

With a flutter of an eye he saw a semi sweet tooth gap of a grin of a sweet face of the girl who, though he’ll never dare admit, sticks within his day dreams of hopes to see her again.

Guess it is ironic huh?

“Then… she came into my view. She stood there, telling me about these… ponies she adores near the farmer’s market and was shocked to hear I haven’t seen one at this time of my life…”

As everyone listened, Ace shifted in his seat, a question of an eyebrow on his face as the sentence circles around his head like a forgotten and broken halo. Ponies He thought, How strange-

“Sadly however I had to leave sooner than I would’ve hoped. But that single conversation got me a little… giddy I guess you can say. Her kind smile showed no bounds of my memories even. So yes, I have been in love before.” Riddle finished his story, looking at everyone’s face of awe and “Awww my Seven that’s so cute” mostly from Cater and Trey who were just staring at their friend in pure wholesome heart melts.

“Th-That’s so sad, Riddle-San… Are you okay??” Asked Cater as he tried to wrap his arms in a hug, catching out a whine of a half sob when he gets rejected of said hug thanks to Riddle’s quick step to the right. 

Trey spoke up, patting Cater’s back as he does, a soft warm smile on his lips, “I never knew that. Honestly, I’m surprised.” Riddle smiles some and nods, “Yes,” Said he, “I was surprised as well. It didn’t really take me until a year to actually realize I had these feelings and put them into words properly.”

“P…Ponies…”

Riddle turned to his rouge rebellious card soldier with a quirked eyebrow. “Yes?” He asked, confused but ready to shout if he needed to with a single wrong word of Ace.

Ace rubbed his neck with a laugh, “So your first love got you into horses huh?”

Riddle paused but smiled, even laughing a bit in return, “Ahaha, yes. I guess she did influence me in a way. And your first love seemed to have sparked some magic in you too?”

“Yep! After that day, I begged my grandpa and pops to show me some tricks so I can impress her one day. How weird though, we both met our first loves at a tea house cafe-”

“Eh? Oh, yes, a very funny coincidence…”

“Yeah, funny indeed…”

The two stare at each other in some silence, almost trying to read each other’s thoughts through eyes and stance.

Then, Ace snorted.

“Hey hey, if either of us meet her again, I call dibs on the first move!”

Riddle’s face flared up in frustration. “What? She isn’t some property we bet and call dibs on! And besides that, why would you make the first move??”

Ace laughs again, “You’re kidding right? I learned magic for her. The least I can do is wow her with it!”

As the two bicker, which as many expected ended with Ace getting collared for his tongue and Riddle marching off in a humph, the rest of the dorm replay the stories from today in their heads.

All the while, a vice dorm head and his buddy soon look at each other and give each other a knowing yet soft smirk on their lips.

Isn’t that ironic?

This fic is heavily inspired by these two songs

First fic for the @ridoaceweek

If you haven't picked it up, Ace and Riddle are both FtM Transgenders and only know of there past selves of their actual soulmates. I personally would see Cater and Trey and Chenya knowing Riddle's trans while Ace is more secretive cause he's stubborn as shit

Also, I always headcanoned Riddle chose to have red hair but wasn't actually born with it, a little nod to the Queen of Heart's black hair in the film.

I also kind of tried to imply but guess I didn't do a good job of it that after the incident where Riddle's mum found Riddle with Trey instead of studying she forbad him from doing what he loves as a punishment, this sadly resulted in taking all of Riddle's pants and making him dress in dresses and forced him to grow his hair out and be more "girlish" again as punishment for not studying

While Ace just didn't know he was trans yet

[heichou-espurr]

1989 (Jean’s Version)

Chapter 1: Welcome

Like any true love,

It drives you crazy

—The body was identified as Porco Galliard, a senior at Marley High School. Initial reports say the cause of death was blood loss from multiple stab wounds to the chest area. No suspects have been arrested at this time but investigators are looking into—

Jean officially said goodbye to his last summer break ever as he walked up the steps of Trost High with his backpack slung over a shoulder. The keys to his '87 Mustang jingled with each step and he still smelled a bit like smoke from the cigarette he'd put out in the parking lot.

Familiar faces swarmed as he entered the cold hallway and it honestly beat the heat. Everyone buzzed with excitement and nerves; new meat Freshmen unsure of where to go and Seniors already counting down the remaining days until graduation when their first period class hadn't even started.

"Oh shit, if it isn't my favorite second-best thrower?"

Jean rolled his eyes as Eren Jaeger approached with open arms, like they hadn't just all been hanging out at the movies over the weekend. Bertholdt worked the concession stands and prying free popcorn and soda after 7 o'clock came easy.

"Whatever Jaeger," Jean said, rolling his eyes and giving in to a fist bump. He was more surprised to see Eren in on time and not behind the building smoking--

"Fucking finally, Floch!"

Their morning greeting was cut short as Floch Forster walked up. Not on the team but he hung around enough to play equipment manager and occasional weed dealer. And as Jean watched Eren fork over a handful of crumpled bills and Floch slip over a baggy, Jean knew which role he played today.

“Did you hear about Porco?” Eren said and Jean slapped his arm.

“Dude, don’t be so fucking loud about it!” Jean spat. “It’s not exactly the best thing to talk about on the first day.”

“Look, I’m doing my due diligence to make sure you losers don’t bring it up around Reiner.” Eren shook his head. “Poor guy. Do you think, you know, he did it?”

“Bertholdt?” Floch whispered. Eren snorted through his nose and Jean shook his head.

“Is a little respect for the recently deceased too much to ask for? Even if Porco was a total asshole.”

“Whoa! Sorry, Mr. Funeral Director, didn’t know you had that big of a conscience.” Eren waved his hands to further sell his sarcasm but Jean still frowned. “Sounds like you’re still mad Porco fucked Reiner first.”

Jean may have been a bit scorned by Porco’s quick work but he held his tongue.

The news barely broke and it stirred whispering rumors throughout the school halls. Everyone wanted to know the bloody details more than the truth; a student’s body found gutted with stab wounds all over, face down in a football field and no cameras, the last person to see him alive was his alleged secret boyfriend from a rival school. Jean hadn’t had a chance to even ask Reiner about it because he was busy being interrogated by the cops, mourning and attending therapy.

"Anyway, see ya, geeks," Eren said, waving them off and heading toward the exit.

Floch looked on with his puppy dog eyes as a teacher stopped Eren in his tracks. Behind him, everyone’s laughter boomed because he had been caught, chastised, detentioned and all before the first bell.

It was all expected, all typical. The same way it had been last year. Jean sort of thought things would change this year. Nothing major or dramatic just not be quite so predictable. Cookie cutter. It was a scripted high school experience and he wanted a new beat to dance to for his senior year.

He’d changed and somewhere hoped the rest of the year would follow.

He slapped Floch on the shoulder, pretending to transfer a bit of confidence so he didn’t have to watch Floch suffer, and walked ahead to his class. At least they'd get their letterman patches they'd ordered--

He knocked shoulders as he turned the corner and books hit the floor faster than he could react. A planner, journal, binder, ocean blue pencil bag. The boy muttered sorry and adjusted his glasses before dropping to his knees to pick up his belongings.

Candy-colored plastic beads decorated his wrists in rows.

"Hey, sorry about that," Jean said, bending down and scooping up the planner. He glimpsed a written schedule and tucked it between the pages of the planner while sneaking a peak at the blond hastily stacking his belongings.

He wouldn't have guessed the guy was a senior but the schedule confirmed it.

"It's fine," he shrugged.

Jean held out the planner and offered a smile. "We have the same math class. Sorry, didn't mean to look, I just--"

"It's fine." Firmer this time. A flush of color blossomed over his face, his perky nose, under ocean blue eyes.

Wow.

Wow.

The first warning bell broke the trance. Jean glanced away at the scattering crowd, as students begrudgingly went to their first period classes. Some were lost on accident, some on purpose, teachers came out of rooms to stand like foreboding guardians to their classes. Jean looked back, just in time to see the blond turning away. Head down, shoulders slumped, the best way to stay hidden in the sea of faces.

And Jean never even caught his name—

“Was that Armin Arlert?”

Jean looked at Eren as he suddenly appeared at his side. He held a pink detention slip in his hand, the ink still wet.

“Who?”

Eren snorted. “The mousy blond. Armin? Wait, you weren’t even here for that.”

Jean’s mom moved to Shinganshina from Trost the summer before Junior year. He remembered it so well because he hated it. Hated the school. Hated Porco for snatching up Reiner.

He remembered the news and pushed away the thought.

“What happened?”

Eren checked his watch. “Just drama. Hey, you have history with Mr. Smith right? Can you take notes for me? I’m meeting up with that Hizuru babe from the private school.”

Jean rolled his eyes. Mikasa was a babe but it was the first day of class. Eren’s inability to maintain any patience flew over Jean’s head.

“Sure thing.”

Eren fist bumped his shoulder and tossed the pink slip in the trash’s direction — missed— and headed toward the exit. Jean didn’t watch to see if he made it or was intercepted again, but looked back in the direction the blond, Armin, scurried off to.

He started toward his own first period class but he couldn’t quite shake Eren’s words. He wondered, as he exchanged courtesy good morning’s with Mr. Smith, just what had happened Sophomore year.

~~

Jean walked into his Calculus class early. It was one of the few classes he didn’t share with Eren, Floch or anyone else on the football team. And after a messy Home Ec. Class with flying eggs and too much flour, he looked forward to something quiet and a little far from his usual rowdy group.

He stood a second in the doorway, examining the available spots. Not that it was the most popular class so the seats were plenty available. He just told himself he looked for seats because he really scanned for—

“Excuse me.”

Jean looked around as the weird goth girl stood behind him with her heavy-eyelinered glared. He knew better than to test Annie anymore than necessary so he slid aside so she could slip into the room. Great. Annie, but still no Armin. Jean walked to a desk near the back of the room and opened his notebook. Annie got the nice spot in the back by the window and he wasn’t going to fight her for it.

“Good morning, my future mathletes!” Dr. Hange chimed, walking in with a wave. Jean never understood why someone with a real doctorate would actively teach high school calculus but he appreciated Dr. Hange’s presence in the school. “I can’t wait for this year. I have so much in-store—”

Hange paused as a figure appeared in the doorway, too quiet and inconspicuous but Jean saw him like a blinding light.

“Ahh, lost?”

Armin nodded. “Sorry. I think this is Cal?” He held up his schedule, the one Jean had seen earlier, and Hange skipped over to take a look. After a glance, Hange smiled.

“Ah, yes! Welcome in, take a seat!” And they gestured to the infinite rows of desks.

It wasn’t a joke that its popularity was nonexistent.

But Armin smiled and quickly ducked his head as he headed to an empty spot. Jean looked at him, caught his eyes, and even waved. For a brief moment, Armin really looked at him and he foolishly thought Armin would come sit by him.

Again, foolish.

Armin’s face twisted at the site of him and he slipped into an empty desk halfway down the row over. Jean deflated as Armin pulled out his notebook and his textbook.

So it was a challenge. Or maybe just futile. But Armin’s dismissive response to him piqued Jean’s curiosity. Hange turned away to the board and Jean scooped up his belongings, to shift two desks up and sit next to Armin.

Blue eyes glanced over and Jean heard a groan. Against the window there was a pop of bubblegum from Annie.

“Hey,” Jean said, waving.

Armin gave a thin-lipped smile, that really wasn’t a smile at all, and a curt wave back.

“I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier. I’m Jean.” Armin didn’t reply, but he did start to scribble in his notebook. ��Um, Armin, right? I’ve never seen you before. And I know all the seniors here so—”

The bell rang again, the sign for the new period to start. They could hear the last bit of scurrying to class as Hange closed the door to officially start.

“How did you know my name?”

Jean looked at Armin, while Armin’s eyes were trained on the board. He whispered soft, so no one but Jean could hear. Jean picked up his pencil and placed it to his own notebook like he prepared to take notes.

“Eren said you used to go here. I’ve only been here since junior—”

Jean glanced at Armin and he’d gone rigid. Stiff all over and his pencil gripped tight between his fingers. Jean swallowed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Is that all Eren said?”

Jean’s throat dried. He didn’t mean to touch a nerve.

“Yeah.”

Armin didn’t reply. He didn’t nod to acknowledge. He kept his eyes on the board and his hand working the pencil as Hange taught. Like some sort of robot, or if his body was possessed by something.

He kept quiet, until the bell rang again. It heralded a sigh and stretches from the rest of his class, while Hange panicked over losing track of time. They hastily scribbled the homework assignment on the board in certified chicken scratch.

Jean didn’t know what to say to Armin, if anything. An apology felt out of place. An attempt to carry on a light-hearted conversation felt forced. He packed away his books as Armin stood up.

“If Eren says anything, just know…I’m not that same person anymore.”

Jean stopped and looked up at Armin. He still had that distant look in his eye, unable to really look at anything but the things ahead; the board, the wall, the door. Jean didn’t even know what else Eren would have to say about Armin, if anything, but he had his brewing assumptions.

He turned to say more but Armin scooped up his belongings and made for the door, to disappear in the hallways before Jean had a chance.

Across the room, his eyes fell on Annie. She watched it all with quiet judgment.

[octonauts16]

If The Octonauts Were Mean Girls. Chapter 1

Hi, My name is Peso. I just moved here from the Antarctic. I have never been to a new school before. So, it was time to say, goodbye to Antarctica and say, hello to High school.

...

"Welcome to Northshore High!" Principal Inkling smiled

Peso wandered the hallways of his new school, a place unlike any he'd known before. Having been homeschooled all his life, the bustling corridors were new to him. He entered his first classroom, where numbers danced and equations solved themselves in his mind – math, his strongest subject. Beside him, Principal Inkling was ready to introduce him to the class, a friendly face in a sea of new beginnings.

"Attention class, we're joined by a newcomer from the Antarctic," announced the octopus teacher with a grin that stretched from tentacle to tentacle.

"Welcome!" greeted the math instructor, addressing the polar bear.

Baffled, the polar bear sporting a snazzy red vest glanced up.

"Actually, I hail from Canada," he clarified.

The room swelled with an awkward silence as Peso, the penguin, perched on his desk. Peso was having second thoughts about this new academic venture; it appeared he was the first penguin these folks had ever laid eyes on.

As lunchtime arrived, Peso faced the challenge of finding a group to sit in the cafeteria, a space dominated by cliques. He had anticipated an easy task, but rejection met him at every turn, with glaring looks accompanying each denial. Left with no alternative, Peso resigned himself to eating alone in the bathroom, feeling isolated and wishing for acceptance from his peers.

A knock on the bathroom stall interrupted his solitude. Peering down, he noticed two distinct pairs of shoes. A voice with a Cockney accent inquired from outside, "You alright in there? You've been in quite a while. Is it explosive diarrhea, or did you ingest something that's causing it?"

Upon opening the stall door, Peso was met by an unlikely duo: a marsh bunny clad in grunge attire and an orange tabby dressed in the style of an e-boy.

"Who are you?" inquired Peso.

"I'm Tweak, and this is Kwazii; he's a bit too adventurous for his own good," she declared.

"I'm Peso Penguin. I'm New," he grinned, "And I—"

"Lost at sea and don't know where to start?" Tweak interjected, "No worries, we're not the usual school of fish, but we'll stick by you."

Together, they shuffled back to the cafeteria, still puzzled about where to begin, yet Peso was eager to dive into the social life of high school.

"You'll navigate this school like it's your own ocean trench in no time," assured Tweak. "Here you've got everyone from Freshmen to ROTC kids, Preppies, J.V. Jocks, Varsity Jocks, Emotional Eaters, Starving Seahorses, Mathletes, Burnouts, Sexual Active Band Geeks, and the greatest creatures you'll ever meet."

Kwazii and Tweak did their handshakes in agreement, pausing only when they spotted two or the trio of students—an otter and a polar bear. Tweak's expression soured, while Peso's face showed a storm of concern.

"Who are they?" Peso said,

"The Plastics," Tweak grumbles,

"The Plastics... who are The Plastics?" Peso inquired.

"They're teen royalty. If Northshore was us, we'd always be undercover," Kwazii explained.

Tweak gestured towards the polar bear donning a cottagecore outfit, who unsuccessfully attempted to sip his soda through his nose using a straw.

"That one there, that's Barnacles Polar Bear. He's one of the dumbest guys you'll ever meet," Tweak elaborated. "Kwazii sat next to him in English last year."

"He asked me how to spell 'orange'!" exclaimed the cat.

Next, Tweak indicated the sea otter with disheveled brown hair, clad in a Dark Academia outfit.

"That tall one, that's Shellington Sea Otter," Tweak described. "He's involved in everyone's business and knows everything about everyone."

"That's why his hair is so big and fluffy; it's full of secrets," Kwazii whispered conspiratorially.

Peso glanced at The Plastics' table, then back at Tweak and Kwazii, and decided to keep his distance, choosing instead to sit with some of the most remarkable creatures he'd ever met.

"May I sit with you guys?" Peso asked.

Kwazii and Tweak exchanged glances before turning to Peso.

"You can sit with us," Kwazii offered.

"Sure," Tweak agreed.

Suddenly, a girl spotted someone intimidating and panicked.

"TAKE COVER!" a girl shouted.

Everyone halted their activities, struck by fear as the person walked through the door.

"What's going on?" Peso queried.

"It's The Queen Bee herself! Don't look at her! Just don't!" Kwazii warned.

"Who?" Peso asked,

"Dashi Dog!" Tweak exclaimed. "DON'T LOOK AT HER!"

Despite the warnings, Peso couldn't resist gazing at the individual who instilled fear in the student body. It was a dachshund with striking red hair, dressed in a baddie outfit. Evil incarnate took the form of Dashi Dog... She might appear to be your typical self-centered, treacherous, doggy bone, but in reality, she was far more than that. She doesn't care who you are, she doesn't care how you feel. 

She was seated with her worker bees when Peso decided to head towards Tweak and Kwazii's table. However, before he could get there, Dashi's voice stopped him.

"Wait, who are you?" Dashi inquired, looking at Peso.

Peso was taken aback. He glanced around, wondering if she was addressing someone else, then pointed at himself, questioning if she meant him. Dashi nodded affirmatively.

"Yeah, come over here," Dashi beckoned with a friendly tone.

As Tweak and Kwazii attempted to persuade Peso to return to them, his curiosity got the better of him, and he sat down with the Plastics.

"Why don't I know you?" she asked with a smile.

"I'm new. I just moved here from the Antarctic," Peso explained.

"What?" Dashi probed further.

"I was homeschooled," Peso added.

"Wait, you've never been to a real school before?" Dashi asked, her smile widening.

Peso nodded slowly, and Dashi's smile grew even broader.

"Shut up... SHUT UP!" she exclaimed, still smiling.

"I didn't say anything," Peso responded, with a slight smile.

"Homeschooled, that's really interesting," Dashi remarked, crossing her arms.

"Thanks," Peso said.

"And you're really handsome," she complimented.

"Thank you," Peso replied, blushing slightly.

"So you agree," she pressed on.

"What?" Peso was confused.

"You think you're really handsome," Dashi smiled, then glanced at his necklace. "Oh my gosh, I love your necklace. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, this?" Peso touched his necklace. "Thanks, my Abuela made it for me."

"It's adorable," Dashi complimented.

"So, 'Fetch'," Shellington interjected.

"What is 'Fetch'?" Dashi turned to the sea otter.

"It's like slang from England," Shellington explained.

Barnacles looked on, confused, as he observed the penguin.

"So if you're from the Antarctic, why are you a bird?" he asked.

"Oh my gosh, Barny, you can't just ask people why they're a bird," Shellington chided.

"Can you give us some privacy for like one second?" Dashi asked,

"Sure thing," Peso responded with a nod.

As the Plastics deliberated, Peso exchanged glances with Tweak and Kwazii, who were puzzled by his new lunch companions. After a brief moment, all eyes were on Peso.

"Just so you're aware, this isn't a regular occurrence, so it's pretty much a big deal," Dashi stated emphatically.

"We'd be thrilled to have you join us for lunch every day for the rest of the week," Shellington announced, his smile wide enough to display the gap in his teeth.

Peso opened his mouth to reply, but—

"Great, see you tomorrow then!" Dashi interjected with a grin.

"On Wednesdays we wear pink," Barnacles added, tossing a casual reminder to the bird.

Chapter 1/Chapter 2

[th1siswhatmakesusg1rls]

intro/pinned post.

about me <3

this is a tc blog so yes mf im finna be cheesing abt men that are 20-30 years older than me 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

im a freshmen in hs, im also african american <3 ik a lot of people and a lot of ppl know me but i wouldnt call myself popular.

im interested in roller skating, animals, painting/drawing, music, movies, talking about boys.. etc 🤭🤭

nirvana, sza, the neighborhood, ldr, summer walker, pink pantheress, artic monkeys, paramore, frank ocean, tyler the creator, PARTYNEXTDOOR, steve lacy, mac demarco, mitski, kali uchis, erykah badu, lauryn hill, lil peep, joji, the weeknd, drake, eminem, etc..

some comfort movies/shows are half nelson, dead pool 1 & 2, guinevere, frankie & johnny (1991), kim possible, american dragon: jake long, adventures in babysitting (1987), and more

about my tc(s) <3

one of them… is my vice principal 😨

ill be referring to him as k.

i don’t know how old k is cause I’ve never asked.. BUTTT he’s been working in my district for abt 15 years so I’m assuming that he’s in his mid forties or really really late thirties.

he’s the kindest!! like i love talking to him so much cause he’s so fun to talk to and he’s a very passionate person. i can tell that he loves his job <3

my other tc is an actual teacher, we‘ll call him m.

i think that he might be in his 40s too. idk how many years hes been working but I was on my schools website and i saw a old photo of him

hes a big cubs fan 🫶🏾🫶🏾 everytime i wear my cubs hoodie he compliments me on it and i love it bru

all of his students love him, he’s so good at his job frfr

sometimes i get to have lunch with him , he invites me to stay in his class and eat all the time

Reblog/like/follow to be mutuals <3

[regalfairytaleacademy]

Technical Information

Name: Cascade Bluesette

(Birth Name: Rumi Phoenix)

Japanese: カスケードブルーセット (Kasukēdoburūsetto)

Quote: "Don't fight! Let's have a talk."

Age: 17 y.o

Birthday: January 24th

Star Sign: Aquarius

Height: 172 cm

Race: Human

Species: None

Homeland: Land of Pyroxene (formerly)

Mondkristall Town (the 4th country in the Queendom of Quartz)

Family:

Kaori Bluesette (younger sister)

Malina Bluesette (younger sister / niece)

Angelina Hermes (adoptive mother / tutor)

Unnamed mother

Unnamed father (deceased)

Unnamed stepfather (unseen)

Unnamed brother-in-law (unmarried)

Nicknames / Aliases:

Cassie (by her family and tutor)

Cass (by Cadence and 2nd year members)

Cassey-senpai (by the freshmen)

Dame sournoise (by Rook Hunt; means "Sly Lady")

Blenny (by Floyd Leech)

Foxy (by Leona Kingscholar)

Miss Bluesette (by Riddle Rosehearts)

Miyuki (disguise name)

Others:

Useless child (by her biological mother)

Weakling (by the citizens)

School Facts and Fun Facts

Dorm: Melodiamour

Occupations: Student

Part-time coworker of some shops and cafés

Disciple of her tutor

Best Subject: Music | Study of Magic Relics

Worst Subject: Ballroom Dance

Favourite Foods: Dumplings

Least Favourite: Chinese chives

Likes: Her adoptive mother and sisters, music, classic, studying, her bestie Cadence, playing the Chinese zither, peace and harmony, shopping, having tea with her tutor, Chinese culture, relaxations, Chinese hairpins

Dislikes: Her biological mother, greedy people, abandoned, her sisters being mistreated, bullying cheaters, lies, secrets, physical touch, sexual harassments, abusers, lonely, long work, being absued sexually, perverts, disturbing, losing her loved ones, stalking, tragedies, oceans, untrustworthy people

Hobbies: Listening the music, tidying her room, strolling around the garden, wood craving, puppet making, crafting, playing the Chinese zither, visiting art galleries, singing

Talents: Disguise, make up, playing music instruments, levitate powers, sympathetic magic, voice mimic, vocal manipulation, strategic, medical, crafting, wood craving, puppet making

Idol Stat

Performance: Born with mezzo vocal. She occasionally use her puppet as her replacement to performance on the stage. Sweet symphonies around the areas and make people touched the emotional moments. Cascade only sing in Chinese and few Japanese.

Choreography: Grace and elegant combined with tradition. Summoning flying bird origami or peach blossom petals when Cascade keep twirling.

But to the dark music, the crow flies to her while leaving black feathers on the stage. To play the music instruments to express the tragedy.

Shimmery Wings: Cultural • Gothic

Idol Brand

Oiran Beauty

It was inspired from a man disguising as an oiran among all the women. The clothes are derived from all Chinese historical. The patterns from some clothes are stitching on flowers by kinds of thread. The fabric colors are in warm tones but some of are neutral.

This is Cascade's preferred idol brand that she had been searching for a brand about the disguise before she was chosen as a performer.

Shimmery Wings outfits: Cultural • Gothic

Etymology

The name Cascade is primarily a female name of French origin that means To Fall, Waterfall. Bluesette in the English origin, means a name of the instrumental jazz, blues song.

Her real name, Rumi is a Japanese female name meaning beauty and flow and it represents a blue gemstone called lapis lazuli — which also relates to her big sister,” says Redmond Satran, adding that the most famous Rumi is a 13th century Sufi mystic and poet.

And the last name, Phoenix is a modern given name derived from the name for a mythological bird from Greek myth that has become a symbol of renewal, regeneration and immortality. It is a name in use for both boys and girls.

For her disguise name, Miyuki is girl's name meaning "beautiful snow / beautiful happiness". The meaning of this sweet Japanese name varies depending on the combination of kanji used, but the first element mi means “beautiful”.

Character Inspired

Cascade was inspired by

Riven (Winx Club)

Feng Luoshen (Peng Shan Yuan)

Yuan Ge (King of Glory)

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 1 Part 1

Hello guys ! Here we are with my new long (very long) story ! To be honest, I have so much things I want to happen in this story... it will be a huge work :D I hope I will be more steady than with HSG.

Soooo, this story is about... Liam ! It take place 1 year after HSG, when our young hero starts College ! We’ll see some old character, some new... in a very different environment... I hope you’ll like it !

Liam Monday September 4

Monday. Monday and the return from the summer holidays. A mortal combination for the young lad. He was lying onto is bed, under his sheets. His alarm clock had already rung ten times this morning, but he wasn't brave enough to stand up. Unfortunately, today, his sister wasn't here to tire him out until he goes to the bathroom (yeah, when he was in highschool, she had always been there to wake him up). (He wasn't proud of this, but please, no judgment). Slowly, Liam turned his head on his pillow, and rose his duvet. He was so fine here, drowsy, warm and without any problem. (It definitely was one of his favourite feelings). But obviously, it wasn't endless... (the boy would have love to be infinitely drowsy, warm and without problem but yay, that's not life).

"Dude, you gonna be late." laughed his roommate. "When you told me you weren't a morning person, you weren't exaggerating."

Liam mumbled something imcomprehensible.

He had moved in town two days ago, for the university beginning, and had met in this way Nicolas Lawson, aka Nick. This one was a friend of his bestfriend Nate, who fortunately went to the same university and owned an appartment in the student accomodation. Not directly in the campus, but close enough. Because college was far away Liam's home and state, his mother asked Nick's parents to let her son live here, and there he was. All that because there were no place left in the dormitory. The two boys didn't know each other very well, but it appeared they shared severals interest in common, and Liam thought this apartment share would be fine. However, they got a different point of view about mornings, obviously.

Groggily, the brown lad sat up straight and looked at his roommate, who was in the living room eating breakfast. Am I smelling pancakes ? Shit. I told him I hate theses craps. Liam just stood up, and ran into the bathroom in order to escape the aromatic flavor. Pancakes were his worst nightmare. A forbidden thing. To be honest, he hated food in general. At least since bad things had happened in 12th grade. Anyway, it wasn't the most important today. Liam took off his pajamas, and looked at the mirror. In order to be good-looking for his first day at college, he had exercised during the whole summer, and he was rather satisfied with the result. Standing up at 183 cm (6'0"), he had a nice and slim body. No six pack, but a flat stomach, with a strong chest, which he shaped by swimming the last five months. Indeed, he had stopped soccer during his 12th grade, because his friend and captain left, and the team had changed, becoming less interesting for him. With some of his buddies, he tried some sports, before choosing swimming. However, Liam didn't like to think about this part of his life, because it ended bad (no detail).

The young boy dressed up with jeans and a sweater. He greeted the unicorns under his bed (yeah, don't ask) and then joined Nick, who waited at the door.

"Are you seriously going to the opening course without taking breakfast ?" asked this latter.

"Yeah, I'm not hungry yet, I'll take some dietetics things later."

His roommate nodded silently. He can't understand... I mean, I don't want to have anything to do with food anymore... I'm eating only because it's obviously necessary, that's all. They walked together towards the amphiteater B, where took place the introdutive lesson. Meanwhile, Liam looked a bit more to Nick, letting the dark-haired boy walk in front. Probably around 180 cm (5'11"), he was a twig, without neither muscle nor fat, but only skin and bones. Maybe not as much as... whatever, maybe not enough to be called anorexic, but he was quite thin anyway. During those two days, the brown lad had understood two things : Nick loved to speak about everything, without any awkwardness (which was making Liam blush often, because himself was a prudish boy), and he loved videogames. He brought with him a whole collection of games and consoles, and played like ten or more hours per day. That was probably why when they entered in the amphiteater, they both knew no one. Well, at least they didn't see anyone they knew, and they just sat together, next to a bunch of girls and boys. There were around a thousand of students, from everywhere in the country and maybe beyond that. Who expected economics studies to be so attractive ? And they told me it's a small college. It was so big compared to highschool (to be fairly honest, Liam felt like a little tiny 8yo boy lost in a crowd, and it was scary). Anyway, the head of the faculty was making his speech, barely listened by overexcited students, and the young boy couldn't hear a single word. And for almost two hours, it continued like this, with a boring hubbub. Eventually, after the head of economics department's speech and the head of professor team's speech, they allowed a break. (There were head of somethin' everywhere). Following Nick, Liam went outside, and sighed with weariness.

"I thought it would be boring, but not that boring dude." he mumbled.

"You think so ? I found the speech of the head of the students department about the canteen rather interesting. She said we can eat whatever we want for low price, and it's sound good, isn't it ?"

The mention of food made Liam's belly gurgled loudly, and he blushed when several other students stared at him.

"Told ya it would happen." stated Nick. "You should have eat this morning dude..."

"Quiet, I'm not that hungry." lied the young boy, knowing perfectly he was starving.

Back in 11th and early 12th grade, food had been his weakness, and he had loved it. He even had been named the black hole, because he had been (and he still was) able to eat a lot before feeling full. But this was an old story he didn't want to remember. Some experiences were better to forget...

At noon, the two roommates decided to try the canteen. (Ok, Nick wanted absolutely to, and Liam having no willpower, he came with him). Anyway, it was a buffet, except for the meat, and they could pick whatever they wanted after paying a few dollars. He's right, it's cheap as hell for this food... That could explain the rumor about the freshman 15, but Liam didn't feel concerned. He chose some fried chicken, french fries and water, and then sat on a table. His roommate joined him with a bit more food, but not that much, and they started to eat in silence. The brown lad finished quickly, and while he was waiting for Nick, observed nearby. Here and there, people he had already noticed from his promotion were eating in groups, manifestly knowing each other. According to Nick, there were several parties the last week, but Liam had family issues, and he moved in town only two day ago (sad story, nobody wants to know). He had tried his best to avoid the forces of evils since. (Don't ask).

Suddenly, he glimpsed a familiar face walking outside, with blond hair, but he didn't get time to think about it, because next to him, his roommate finished a sentence by saying his name. Curious, Liam turned his head, and stared at the boy Nick was speaking to. Certainly older than them, he was around their heigh, but with a well built body. He worn a bermuda short and a vest, showing his strongs arms and legs. However, he was rather V-shaped, with a large chest, and Liam judged he probably did swimming.

"Nice to meet you two boys." smiled the newcomer. "I'm Theo Meyers, by the way. Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I saw you and I could not stay overthere without saying anything."

Creepy. He sounds like a stalker. Just, Liam knew some shit about creepy stuff. Parents of his ex were a witch and a serial killer. And they hated him, so he was like an expert about creepy stuff (he had a quite good imagination, but his ex's parents were seriously scaring). Anyway, Theo continued :

"I'm the head (again, the head of something) of the swimteam, and when I noticed you, I immediately knew you were made for the pool."

Nick opened his mouth, but Liam replied faster :

"Thanks man, and you're right, we want to be part of the team. But I thought enrolment would only start tomorow ?"

His roommate looked at him, surprised by this uncommon motivation, but Liam just smiled. Dude, I trained hard for this. Before, he was doing sports with his friends in order to make a physic activity (and because his highschool was like the main place to practice soccer), but now, he needed that to clear his mind.

"That's true, but every club is trying to recruit before." confessed Theo. "You'll see, to be part of the club, it's quite easy : just come to the campus pool tomorow, and ask Laura. Okay ?"

"Sure."

Nick tried again to say something, but didn't get the time to, because Theo stood up and left them with a last smile.

Rebecca Monday September 4 – Tuesday September 5

With meticulouness, the beautiful girl took a little medal out of her cardboard box, and put it on her desk. She smiled with pride when she glimpsed the cup in the box. She won this one last january, for her last tournament as an highschool student. Rebecca dropped it off next to the other, and then stood up to admire her whole collection. Being a national runner had led her to win a lot of reward, and it was one of the thing she decided to bring with her at university. Well, it also allowed me to earn a special scholarship for economy. That was why, in contrary of the others students, she got an appartment for her, and her shedule was modified to let her train. Slowly, she headed towards her bedroom and took off her clothes. It was already 11pm, and after the introductive conference this morning and her exercising this afternoon, she felt exhausted. She lay onto her bed, but heard suddenly a loud voice swearing.

At start, she tried to ignore it, closing her eyes in order to get some sleep. But the boy (she was pretty sure it was a boy) continued to scream, and she could also hear the music of the game he was playing. Jeezus, did I seriously need to do this the first night ? She moved this morning in town, because of organisation issue, and never met her neighbors. It was a college facility, but out of the campus, with bigger apartment. However, Rebecca wasn't a shy girl, even far from it. And she was restless. Definitely restless. When the boy shouted again, saying something like "fuckin' noob", she decided it was enough. The girl stood up, put her clothes back on and went out angrily. She knocked strongly to the next door, and heard someone coming. Eventually, a boy (as she said) opened, quite surprised by this impromptu visit.

"Hi ! I'm your unlucky neighbor." she stated openly. "Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to know if you can shut the fuck up when you're playing video games ? Some people try to sleep when it's late."

A swear word resonated in the flat, revealing she was not talking to the right boy. By the way, this one looked at her absent-mindedly, and he didn't seem offended by her rough attitude. A bit taller than her (she was 181 cm or 5'11"), and broad-shouldered, he worn a striped pajamas, and was probably trying to sleep too. He had dishevelled chestnut hair, and tired eyes. Anyway, he seemed to realise she was speaking about the other guy, because he yelled :

"Nick ! There is a girl here who want you to stop shouting ! Get it dude ?!"

You probably are waking up the whole floor man... Sometimes, boys were just idiot. But the named Nick replied that he understood, and it was all Rebecca asked for. She was about to leave when the lad continued :

"Did I already saw you somewhere ? You look familiar to me..."

Curious, she looked at him. For her tournaments and running, she travelled the whole country, and met a lot of people, but she did not remember him. However, his face lit up, and he exclaimed :

"You're this champion of athletics who won Shirley every year at the tournament in our town. My sis' Chloe is a huge fan of you !"

"Chloe Strucker ?"

It was the only Chloe she knew, a young girl who was rather gifted for running, like her. The lad nodded, enthusiastic. Well, and I remember Shirley Vince too, she was a good opponent last year...

"Rebecca Bab." she introduced herself. "Despite the circumstances, glad to meet you."

"Liam, Liam Strucker." he replied. "Nice to meet you too. Anyway, I should let you sleep, shouldn't I ?"

The young girl smiled. This boy looked a bit odd, but he was certainly sympathic. She may have misjudged her neighbors, after all.

The next morning, Rebecca woke up excited. Today, students were all invited to visit the campus and discover the differents clubs and places. Obviously, because she already had athletic every afternoon during at least 3 hours, she was not supposed to join another club, except, according to her trainer, a sport club. That was why, once dressed and ready, she headed towards the hall 5, where were all the university's sport facilities. Here and there, she glimpsed some students who were in her promotion, but she was too fascinated by the sophomores and juniors which were pluging for their clubs. She glimpsed the cheerleaders and the football clubs, which attracted most of the students. No way. I don't want to be a fuckin' dancer. She hated cheerleading since her mother forced her to try. And obviously, football club looked more for boys than girls. Rebecca went to the fitness club, and then the tennis one's and then, headed towards the swimming club. The town wasn't famous for swimming performance, and the freshman were few. But... according to Bob (her personnal trainer) a bit of swimming would be good for me... She came closer, and looked to the brochure. They asked freshmans girls to join the sorority Alpha Delta, which was the smaller of the campus, and freshmans boys to join the fraternity Theta Omicron, which was also small. But anyway, she didn't care about sorority.

"Hey you. Wanna some information ?"

Rebecca turned towards the boy who talked to her. Smiling, he was wearing the jacket of the swimteam, and held in his hand a brochure like the one she had just read.

"Well, I wanted to know when and where are the training, who is the trainer, how much competitions are you doing and how many girl there are in your club."

(Yeah, she was direct, and she wanted a lot of things. When she started a new sport, she liked to be aware about every detail before). The boy frowned, and answered slowly :

"The pool is open every night, so it's up to you to come training as much as you want. The trainer is Theo, a junior in law pretty good at swimming. You can do as much tournament as you want, and there is at least five girls, without you."

She smiled. Five girls... that's a few. Rebecca got a pen out of her bag, and asked the boy where she was supposed to sign. He showed a little girl next to them, and added :

"I'm Pete, by the way. I have to go or I'll miss registration for the cooking club, but I'll see you tonight for the club party, I guess."

She nodded and then called the girl in order to join the club.

Pete Tuesday September 5 – Wednesday September 6

"Here are the lockers." announced Laura. "Right for boys, left for girls. Please, don't get the wrong one's."

Some people laughed. The young boy, as for him, looked in the large mirror next to him, lost in his mind. For the party, he decided to worn a flowery cool shirt, and0 black jeans he loved. His blond hair were cut short, and he got blue eyes. Eventually, I'm not that ugly... His mother had told him he was ugly just before he moved in town. She also had said he was a fucking little selfish asshole, and a cheese cake (yeah, when she was upset she often said nonsense). Of course, he wasn't an Apollo, unlike several other new swimmer recruit, but whatever, he was fine with himself. The lad followed the group behind Laura, who was presenting the pool's facilities, when he heard someone whisper to his ear :

"You lied to me dude, I thought you were a sophomore or junior, but it seems like you're a freshman..."

Turning back, he ran into Rebecca, the black girl taller than him and way more impressive. She was wearing a sweater and sweatpants, and looked at him with a bit of aggresiveness. Okay.. I shouldn't have talk to her at first place I guess...

"To be fairly honest, I didn't say I was a sophomore or whatever..."

"Yeah, you said nothing. Look, I'm not searching problems, but if you're a pervert or something, just don't try it with me, am I clear ?"

Wow... She's crazy... a pervert, me ? No way, absolutely not. Actually, he talked to her only to be polite. Fortunately for him, Laura called the group to show the pool, and they all joined her. According to rumours (yeah, Pete listened to rumours since the first day), the small girl was Theo's girlfriend, and a pretty bad swimmer, but everyone loved her.

"Just look to the water." she ordered. "You'll see how transparent it is."

The lad believed hear a bit of humor in her voice, but he watched the water anyway. Suddenly, he could feel someone pushing him, and he fell into the pool with a scream. Around him, freshman were all jostled while the olders members were laughing.

"Hello everyone !" shouted the team captain. "I'm Theo, the swimteam leader, and tonight, we're here to welcome the newcomers ! Let's have some fun !"

They were supposed to have a lesson in five hours, at 8 am. But a lot of them were still having fun, like asked Theo. Pete was strating to feel a bit exhausted by this long and hectic party. He wasn't drunk, unlike the great majority of the students, and the heat in the pool added to the brouhaha and his moist clothes made him feel bad. (Honestly, Pete wasn't used to parties... In highschool, he was quite solitary and unpopular). Anyway, the lad went discreetly outside in order to take a break, and once alone, sighed with release. From his position, he could hear the different parties taking place everywhere, according to the club and the fraternity joined. University, the start of something new... He dreamed about this moment during the whole summer. There was something different between the atmosphere here and in highschool. People are not looking for popularity anymore... We're so many... I'm sure to find somes dudes like me here... His mom had always been telling him he wasn't ready to university. That he would come back home in no time, and take a year to make things the right way. But he already survived one week without her. One entire week ! Pete glimpsed a lad sat on a bench not far. I didn't notice him before... He's discreet... Coming closer, the young boy released he was one of the swimmer freshman. Half naked, because of their unvoluntary bathing, he only worn gray sweatpants, and Pete could admire quite a good physic. Light brown-haired with almost grey eyes, the freshman was tall, and well-builded. No abs, but a nice V-torso body, with strongs arms, and a beautiful chest. When he saw Pete, he raised an eyebrow and smiled prudently.

"Hi. Name's Liam. Am I doing something bad ?"

"What ? No, absolutely not. I... I just saw you alone on this bench, in the dark, and I thought I would come to see if everything was fine."

The named Liam had a comforting voice. The more Pete stared at him, the more he found him cute. What am I doing ? I don't even know him... Far away his thoughts, the chestnut boy smiled.

"There is no problem." he assured. "I don't really like parties. Not anymore at least."

"I understand. Too noisy. But you don't have to stay alone for all that, you know ?"

Holy shit. (Just, one of the reasons why Pete was not popular in highschool was quite simple : he was gay. And he decided to join the swimteam in order to... okay, check the boys out). (In other words, this situation was kinda awkward for him).

"I like solitude." stated Liam. "I feel better without people surround me. I can think peacefully. Anyway, thank you for being that polite."

"Well, you're welcome. Being nice is one thing my momma taught me."

Am I serioulsy speaking about my momma ? My mother. Jeezus. Shame on me. Fortunately, the light-brown haired lad didn't seem to note, and he just smiled sadly. Damned... He's so cute when he's doing this... (Pete was the kind of people to get turned out fast. Really fast). However, he had to keep calm. Firstly, because he didn't know the sexual orientation of Liam. Secondly because a young boy smiling sadly had necessarily problems, and Pete didn't want problems. Luckily, Theo saved him from this embarrasing situation when he hurtled and shouted :

"Boys here you are ! You must come ! Come ! We have something for the news recruits ! Come !"

Needless to say, he was heavily drunk, and while speaking, he tried to grabs theirs hands but only caught a bush. Liam as Pete decided to follow him before he pull the poor vegetable off, and the trio went inside.

The whole swimteam was gathered around an enormous cake. Laura handed paper plate and spoon out to every freshman while the other were yelling something like "cake, cake, cake". (They were so drunk that Pete was understanding "coke, coke, coke"). Anyway, once every new recruit had a plate, Laura served piece of the cake, and they all started to eat. Strangely, when the young lad took a large mouthful he didn't recognise the taste of chocolate he expected. Even more, he felt something weird. Seing he was hesitating, Theo just took his spoon, and stuffed it in his mouth.

"You'll see, it's delicious ! With awesome effect ! Just swallow it !"

Having no choice, Pete obeyed easy. At first, he felt nothing more than this weird taste, but soon, he starting to sense at ease. And he enjoyed it. Slowly, like a robot, he turned his head towards the captain, and asked :

"What the hell did you put in this cake ?"

"Why are you talking about cake ?! We told you it was coke dude ! Have a good trip !"

Pete wanted to say something, but only smiled. Damnit, it feel so nice...

To be continued

Well, there are our three mains characters for Chapter One. This is an introduction to the College Society, where a lot of shit will happens. And don’t worry, weight gain will obsviously happen :)

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.  

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.  

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.  

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.  

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.  

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.  

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?  

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

[gleekto]

Fic: Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You (5/?)

Short Summary: Blaine coming of age in 1969. Columbia University. Hippie!Kurt. Elliott and Sebastian as Blaine’s mentor-friends. Unironic use of ‘groovy’. Coming out and fitting in and falling in love.

Amazing Poster by @caramelcoffeeaddict

For @slayediest who gave an inspired prompt for this way back when.

Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four

Day Five: Friend

"Good evening, everyone." Elliott smiles out at the group of long haired, colorfully clothed, probably half stoned freshmen who are sitting sprawled out on the couches and the floor of their residence common room. "Thanks for having us tonight."

"Free love, man. Am I right?" Blaine can't help but smile at the slightly curly haired guy in the center of the room who stands up to welcome them. He has a short, dark brown haired girl on his arm, so he isn't one of the tribe, but he's supportive. And clearly wants people to know he is.

"For sure, brother," Elliott says warmly. He's a showman and Blaine can appreciate that. "I'm Elliott from the Student Homophile League. And this is my friend - " that's nice, Blaine thinks - "and co-leader, Blaine."

"Happy to be here," Blaine says to the room of about fifteen people.

...

Elliott finishes the intro about himself - He's from San Francisco, California. Fortunate that he was able to grow up somewhere where there was a gay and lesbian presence. Realized he was gay at 15, when he felt jealous when his best friend, Mike, got a girlfriend. But he wasn't jealous of Mike. He was jealous of the girlfriend - Everyone laughs. It's a pretty friendly audience and Blaine feels a sense of relief. Maybe even a freedom.

"Hi. I'm Blaine. I'm from Westerville, Ohio and I'm a homosexual." Just as he smiles widely at his own courage, another student quietly opens the door to sneak into the rap session, fashionably late.

Kurt. His musical theatre hippie. Lives in the hippie residence. Of course he does. And he's here.

"I'm umm, I'm-" Blaine bites his lower lip and quickly turns away from Kurt's eyes that are in the process of recognizing him. Hey Kurt, that guy who also laughs at Roger Smith, oh yeah, by the way, he's also one of those homos.

"I come from a big city, with other people like me," Elliott rescues him. "But Blaine comes from a much smaller, more conservative town. But he still made it to the big city, right Blaine?" Elliott senses his distraction. Bless him.

"Yeah," Blaine nods, regaining his composure. "I didn't know anyone like me growing up." Blaine takes a deep breath. So what if Kurt is unlikely to be interested in small talk with him anymore after this - soon to have more personal information about him than even his roommate Sam? This isn't about some fashionable hippie in his music history class. It's bigger than that.

Blaine continues, "But even when I knew I would never be able to reveal my crush on my best friend - I knew there were other guys like me out there in the world. And I knew deep down that two people loving each other, guys, girls or whatever - I knew that had to be a good thing. I mean, here we are fighting an endless war across the ocean, and we are worried about people loving each other?" Rule number one of presentations - know your audience.

"That's right, man," A pretty blonde girl in a long flowing dress stands up and speaks calmly but surely. "We wage a pointless war killing people in the name of freedom but we condemn people loving freely. This has got to stop."

"Amen Quinn," The curly haired guy says back. "And thanks for showing us the way, Blaine and Elliott. I'm Jesse St. James," Ahh the guy from the phone. Of course it's him. "I'm not gay but I support you. It's all about love, man."

...

With intros done, and a warm reception, Blaine and Elliott get to move on to the myth busting part of the dorm rap. They have an icebreaker list of ten myths for participants to read out loud to break the ice and encourage questions.

"I'll start," The dark haired girl on Jesse's arm eagerly puts up her hand. "Number one - Nobody is "the woman" in a gay male relationship. We're just two men." Everybody laughs. Again.

"Number two," Quinn reads. "Being gay isn't a lifestyle. Just like you, we set our alarms, brush our teeth, and eat three meals a day." Pretty basic.

"Number three, you can't tell someone is gay by the clothes they wear." A guy at the back of the room reads. Blaine looks down at his specifically chosen plain dark blue jeans and smart yellow button down. As ordinary as can be. But still stylish of course. He thinks he sees Kurt roll his eyes at that one. Whatever, if the guy wants to be a homophobe.

"Number four," Jesse pipes in. "Do not assume we're attracted to you."

"That's right, Jesse," Quinn pings back at him.

"Hey I can't help it if people notice me." Blaine leans against the wall behind him, arms crossed and amused. They are a fun group these hippies. Kurt's smirk notwithstanding.

"Please Jesse, don't flatter yourself." Kurt speaks for the first time, shaking his head in disapproval. "Ignore that guy," He says to the speakers and Blaine looks down. Too self conscious to make eye contact.

"Oh I will," Elliott says. "How about you take the next one, I didn't catch your name-"

"Kurt and sure." Kurt takes the poster from Jesse and promptly turns bright red. Blaine can't not look. "Do not assume that we're not attracted to you." Kurt looks up and Blaine is sure they make eye contact for the slightest moment before Blaine quickly turns away. This is dangerous and a recipe for a very awkward class tomorrow. God, could he be more obvious?

"There you go, Jesse. I'm sure some guy somewhere is noticing." Elliott is so good at casual banter.

Before they leave, Elliott passes out their flyers - The Student Homophile League, Tuesday evenings at 7pm. Earl Hall. Homosexual, heterosexual, ALL are welcome. "You guys were a great audience. Maybe even the best we've ever had." Blaine sees that girl with Jesse preening at the compliment. She and Jesse share a knowing smile like they know they're the best. "We'd love to have any of you at our meetings - not just for gay people like us but for anyone who wants to show their support for love and tolerance."

Blaine could actually imagine Jesse or his girlfriend coming for support, though he muses that they might end up taking over the meeting. The rap was definitely a success.

As Elliott and Blaine exit John Jay Hall and part ways, Blaine feels light, made even better by Elliott's profuse appreciation that he joined the League this year. Blaine actually finds himself looking forward to next Tuesday - a meeting that a few weeks ago made him feel slightly nauseous. Truthfully, only one thing is making Blaine nervous right now and that's his music history class tomorrow. Facing Kurt is not going to be fun. Ugh. Coming out is so complicated.

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

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

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

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

check out the post-script drabble here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

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

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

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

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

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

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

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

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

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who are you to resist?

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

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

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

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

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

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

God. 

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

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

Sighing, you pick up. 

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

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

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

“To do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about food?”

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

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

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

Who else could it be?

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

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

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

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

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

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

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

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

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

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

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

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a knock on your door. 

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

And then, you hear,

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

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

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

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

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

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He dashes down the hallway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

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

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

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

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

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

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?” 

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him. 

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. 

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet,  “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?” 

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated. 

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her. 

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully. 

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase. 

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads.  “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan. 

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. ���Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[cheelduh]

How to strike your way into someone’s heart (Highschool AU)

Part 2 to this. Can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing I mean what do you expect they’re all teenagers. Lots of brick slapping. Childe clowns Scaramouche. OH YES this isn’t edited at all lmfao have fun.

Synopsis: It’s your big date with Childe after you lost the bet miserably. You decide to pay the occult club a visit in hopes of finding something that can...ease your concerns. Childe on the other hand has Signora give him a friendly piece of advice, believe it or not. 

Note: SRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH

For as long as you can remember, you've never believed in ghosts, demons, or souls that lose their way in the endless void, forced to roam the earth in repentance.

Believing in the unknown takes creativity, adventure, maybe even a little sense of fear. Scratch that—a shitton of fear, because humans love to weave in their insecurities and inability to explain something into something of a phenomenon.

Bad luck lies in this category. Bad luck is simply a way to justify the catastrophe that one cannot admit they have fabricated themselves. Everyone wants a reason as to why shit hits the fan, and it can be anything but their own fault.

Bad luck is nothing but a load of bull to you. That's totally why you're standing outside the calculus classroom during lunch break, which happens to be the official meet spot for the occult club.

You raise a fist to knock, but then falter, thinking over your options once again. Is this what it has come to? Putting your faith into the weird kids that once tried to summon Schrödinger's cat for the physics final.

Fischl kicks the door wide open, a smirk playing at her lips once she spots you. "One cannot refrain from the song of your cogitation. The feline for which thou dwell on—"

A squeak leaves your throat and you flinch back, cutting her off. "You can read my mind?"

"Fischl," An icy eyed boy shows up from behind her and points a thumb back. "Mona needs your help."

Fischl squints at you for a brief moment, and then spins onto her heel to go back into the room.

The blue haired lower class man, Chongyun you guess, narrows his eyes at you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Finally you manage to speak, palms all sweaty. "Yeah uh, I need your help. You know, with occulty things." You use your hands to articulate your thoughts, but ultimately give up.

You're not sure if it's pity towards your pathetic explanation or simply annoyance, but Chongyun widens the opening. He silently gestures for you to follow.

Stumbling on your feet and putting on your big girl pants, you hurry inside of the room, hoping you aren't seen by Beidou. She wouldn't let you hear the end of this.

The temperature instantly drops, and you have to adjust your sight to navigate. There's heavy incense in the air as well as a a few lighted candles from the dollar store, you guess.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of all the demonic markings is Mona, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chongyun has made his way next to her, crossing his arms with a sigh, and Fischl is busy cooing at her bird.

"Well well well..." Mona's amused, eyes almost twinkling as she gets up from the poor desk that had to suffer the wrath of her ass. "If it isn't Y/N."

Mona is a glorified dick wiper in your books. One time, she partnered up with you in chemistry last year and refused to do any work because apparently her "star sign" said she was incompatible with science. You haven't forgiven her since.

"I need your help." You barely manage to choke out the words, reigning yourself in by clenching your fists instead. It'll be unethical to claw her face, especially since you're the one who's come to her.

"Oh?" She smiles wickedly, revelling in every moment of this no doubt. "Why would the high and mighty Y/N need help from the 'Whoroscope whore'?"

Fischl nearly slips out a laugh, trying with her upmost ability to refrain from rolling all over the floor.

You blink away your tears of almost-laughter, casually sliding in twenty mora across the table dividing you two. If she's a whoroscope whore like you say she is, she'll definitely put it in her bra.

Mona raises a brow, but her eyes linger on the bill for a second too much. "What makes you think I'll do it for money?"

"That's simple," You say, rolling your eyes. "When you see mora, you cling to it like a baby clings to a tit. Now just take it and solve my issues."

She fumes a litany of curses but snatches the money up anyways.

"What do you want?"

You breathe in, then out. "I need a talisman."

Mona raises a brow, hand on her hip. "I'm sorry. Did I get that right?"

How dare she. You will your eye into not twitching, the beginnings of fire thrumming through your veins, scalding hot. How dare she make me repeat myself.

"You know, the thing to fend off evil spirits," Your statement hangs heavy in the air as the cogs in their brains click into place. "I need one that can remove the most evilest thing times ten to the power of twenty five on this planet."

Everyone immediately thinks of Hu Tao.

Chongyun is the first to speak from an area of expertise, seemingly shocked at your words. "Are you sure you want a talisman that powerful? How bad is the evil spirit you've come across?"

You glance out the window, through the semi-open blinds. The apprehension curls in your stomach once you spot Childe chasing Aether with safety scissors, and you've never been more sure of than anything in your life.

Gulping, you turn back to the exorcist. "I'm 110% sure."

He doesn't ask any more questions and goes to fetch the talisman.

Mona clears her throat. "So I hear you have a date with Childe today. Quite the character you've taken to."

"Oh please," You hiss through your teeth, your blood pressure going up tenfold, "you're the one that told him our star signs were intertwined and that we're fated lovers."

She shrugs innocently, stance casual unlike your own that is ready to lunge an attack.

"Here you are," Chongyun hands you a talisman, a colourful mix of some charms, some kind of liquid in a bottle, and about a shitton of other things. "You'll need these if you're going to face the most demonic of all evils."

You think of Childe's stupidly handsome smirk, the playful life of his eyes, and how gentle and considerate he is with you. You think about how cruel he is to others, but how loving he can be to you.

"Oh, I will be."

—

Childe is getting his ass handed to him by Scaramouche on the switch. It's just that he can't seem to focus, not with the forthcoming date all over his mind.

He hasn't experienced these kind of jitters in a long time. Has to endure that foolish smile that's about to plaster all over his face.

Scaramouche may be a son of a bitch with an agenda, but he doesn't appreciate his acquaintances safeguarding their personal crap when it starts to leak onto him. Especially when it comes to video games.

"Okay," The short boy sighs, stretching over the staff room sofa to drop his controller on the cushions. "Let's hear it." He can't even properly enjoy his victories when Childe isn't giving it his all.

"Hear what?" Childe lays his head back, relaxing from all the strain of endless gaming during the lunch hour. He seems too relaxed for someone who's broken into the teacher's lounge.

"Why you're so distracted." Scaramouche points out. "Not that I care—hey! I'm serious here!"

Childe's cracking up for absolutely no reason, rudely cutting him off. "I'm sorry—sorry it's just so hard to take you seriously when you're wearing that stupid fucking hat."

"Don't question the drip." The older moves his head to glare at him, but the thin stripe of silk on his hat swooshes with him, and it's enough to have Childe clutching his stomach in pain as he barks out in laughter.

"Grow the fuck up." Scaramouche says, no doubt exasperated from the constant shit he gets.

"Ok—ok I'm sorry."

There's a knock on the door before Scaramouche gets the chance to intimidate him again.

"Fuck shit fuck who is that? Wasn't there a staff meeting?" Childe whisper yells, panic clear in the ocean of his eyes.

Scaramouche shrugs and downs a can of soda with no care in the world.

Childe would be nonchalant too. If it were a normal day, he wouldn't give two shits about getting caught.

However, he's looking forward to that date he has with you today. Detention is going foil all his lecherous plans.

"It's me." The feminine sound of a threat calls out from the other side. "Open the door." The clicks and clacks of her toes tapping the floor indicating her impatience.

The two sigh in relief, Childe getting up to open the door. It's way too early in the afternoon to deal with this crap.

"Surprised to see me?" Signora greets sweetly, and if not for the murderous glint in her eyes, he would smile back.

"Yeah, I didn't say Bloody Mary three times." The ginger replies, keeping a steady eye on the upperclassman in case she pulls a fast one.

The blonde shoves him aside in offence, and prances in like she owns the goddamn place. Scaramouche greets her with the bird.

"There's this rumour going around—I'm sure you've heard..."

"Oh?" Childe pockets his keys, ready for an attack, not even remotely interested in the topic.

"Something about how Y/N gave Mona a visit today" Signora muses, elegantly taking a seat on the arm of the couch, "with your date and all, I just thought you should know."

"Hah!" Scaramouche bursts out in laughter, tears in the corner of his eyes. "I can't believe she went to get a horoscope reading on how shitty your date's gonna be."

"Get castrated." Childe growls, flipping him off on both hands.

"Now now boys," Signora's lips curl, and she clasps both manicured hands together, prepared to break the fight if it ever reaches its peak. "Settle down. You two are comrades."

"As if I'm comrades with this SIMP!" Scaramouche has to wheeze out the words.

The youngest clenches his fists, unclenches, and then lets a smirk grow. "Oh? I'm the simp? What about that time Mona pantsed you in-front of all the freshmen and you fell in love with her."

Scaramouche glares at him, a glare strong enough to have anyone shaking in their shoes. "I'm attracted at her sheer audacity of trying to fuck I, Scaramouche, the 8th harbinger, over. It takes balls."

"Mad respect." Signora leans forward to place her phone on the coffee table, then approaches Childe. "Moving on, the reason I've decided to bestow my precious intel on you is because I have a favour to ask of you."

"What?" He says blankly, confused that she has a request for him out of all people.

"I need you to let me get you ready for this date of yours." She gives him a gaze that is enough to wither away any arguments.

Childe shares a look with Scaramouche as if to say "am I fucking deaf because I sure as shit didn't just hear that."

"You sure as hell did, boys." Signora intercepts the connection of their two brainwaves with a dreaded sigh. "I hate Y/N. This is the only way I can get back at her."

"Hey!" Childe exclaims loudly, waving his hands in the air incessantly. "What makes you think I'll let you shit on my future girlfriend."

"I'll be doing nothing of the sorts." She points out, giving him a sly smile. "I just know she's terrified of what's coming. The better the date is, the more she's gonna hate herself. What more do I need but to sprinkle some inner conflict within her airtight resolve?"

As favorable as the proposal is, Childe  contemplates for a second. Signora...helping him? This could work to his advantage if he plays his cards right.

His inner turmoil takes him into the future, where you two are happily married with eight and a half kids. If you ever managed to find out Signora was the culprit that was finally able to set you two up, you'd never forgive him.

"Nah I'll take a hard pass." He doesn't want to think about divorce and custody battles this early on. He'd rather face the brunt of Signora's wrath.

Scaramouche chooses right then to make a tactical withdrawal out through the window since he doesn't want to be a witness to a murder he hasn't caused.

Surprisingly— "Fine then." Signora shrugs, unbothered when summoning out a minty juul from no where. She's disappointed nonetheless.

Childe tilts his head, perplexed, but decides against mulling over it for too long. Instead, he strides off to the door, wanting to get the last two periods over with so he can run home and freshen up for this date.

"Oh and Childe?" Signora calls out to him, but he barely acknowledges her, only pausing momentarily without looking back. "A piece of friendly advice. A diligent student like Y/N, there's no way she'd be into rash things like fighting. So try and control yourself, hmm?"

He flashes the senior a sheepish smile, the front row tickets to the illegal underground fight-club burning in the back pocket of his pants.

—

Childe conceals near the bushes by the gate, expertly hiding his shaking hands by pretending to look for something in his back. His goal isn't to seem desperate, even though he's raced out here at the speed of light after Havria's dismissal.

It's not like he's trying to eavesdrop or anything. He just wants a little insight on how you're feeling about this, in case the rumors of you visiting the occult club wasn't a farce.

From his peripheral, he spots you and a familiar figure that is Lisa, leisurely walking side by side as you approach the main side walk.

"Ready for your date, Y/N? You've been daydreaming all afternoon." Lisa winks, and dodges the shove you send her way with experience like no other.

"Yes, daydreaming about punching you in the face." Your left eye twitches in annoyance as you fix your hold on your skateboard.

"Well then, I'll be off—ah!"

The gorilla grip you have on her sleeve takes away all the time she has to get on the last bus she's about to miss.

Your utter strength is enough to make Childe's knees weak. How pathetic he thinks.

"Oh no you don't," You say in a sing-song voice, "you got me into this, so you're going to help."

"Help with what?" Lisa fakes a hard pout as she bats her lashes, trying to collect pity points.

"I—" You inhale, loosening your grip on her and averting your eyes nervously to see if anyone's watching. "Don't make me say it."

The older girl motions for you to continue, and you're sure you've suffered more for less at this point.

"I've never...been on a..." The sentence ends in a trailed murmur.

Childe doesn't think he's ever seen you so flustered. He's about to snap a picture for later, but decides against it. They'll be plenty of moments later on to see your cute expressions.

Lisa's grin is both seductive and terrifying, Childe notices. "You've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" You hiss, dropping your board so you can cover her lips with your palm, eyes darting around your surroundings frantically. "Not so loud."

He has to bite at his fist to hide his amusement.

As if she has a sixth sense, Lisa's eyes somehow find Childe's through the abundance of leaves, and there's a glint in her eyes that nearly makes him shart his pants.

"Of course Y/N," She replies sweetly to you, who is currently unaware of the staring match going on. "I'll teach you everything you need to know...and more."

Childe doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Nor does he want to find out.

—

You ponder on what's taking him so long, more on edge than you usually are. Thankfully, Lisa basically pried your hair down from its usual up-do. Said something about how you can hide your lack of shits given as to not offend him.

Except you think you're giving more shits that you expected to. Why else would your heart be pounding so hard?

"What took you so long?" You sense him creeping up on you, ceasing his chance to pounce.

Childe groans playfully and slaps a hand over his face as he comes into view. "How'd you know?"

"You have a douche-styled gait." You reply as you remove your gaze off your phone to approach him.

He's prepared to shoot a witty reply, but it dies halfway through his throat when he procures a good look at you. Your hair frames your face elegantly, eyes shining despite the tiredness that's so clear, all complete with a cooling spring dress that hugs you just right.

Mouth going dry, he forgets how to speak the common tongue, unable to tear his gaze off your form.

You shift in place awkwardly. "Uh are you okay? Looking a little...blank."

"Sorry—sorry just thinking." Childe stumbles over his words like the complete idiot and a half he is, berating himself countlessly on the inside. He regains his confidence once he spots the light dust on your cheeks. "You ready for the best date ever?"

"The best date huh?" It's the first time you smile today, and he swears his heart leaps in his rib cage. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. "I'm ready. I better not be disappointed."

"I wouldn't dare disappoint, girlie." He feigns mock offence as dramatically as possible. "I'll show you how to have some real fun. Cool keychain by the way, for good luck?"

It's one of the charms Chongyun urged you to carry with you at all times to keep all forms of evil away.

"Yeah...something like that."

The two of you ease into the walk in a relatively comfortable fashion, contributing with lively chatter and a few jabs here and there. It's not awkward at all, not like you thought it would be. Your nerves loosen up, mind diverting from the roots of the stress of high school.

"—And you won't believe what Kaeya did the other day. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him because that SoundCloud rapper wannabe Venti goaded him into birdboxing through the hallways at lunch."

"And the son of a bitch did it?"

"The son of a bitch did it." Childe confirmed, gasping through his laughs as the two of you converse in psychobabble. "And guess who he bumped into?"

You're choking in laughter, tears in your eyes as you hunch over and shake. "He didn't. Childe—no he didn't."

"Straightttt into Diluc. And he had the balls to feel him up because he thought he bumped into a hot bab—"

Childe crashes into a sturdy chest and stumbles backwards towards you, but manages to catch his balance midway. Both of you freeze when faced with a buff guy from another school, bandages on his fist and a crooked smirk on his face.

Fuck. You think. Classic high school cliché.

Realizing he can't risk the remainder of this date when it hasn't even begun, Childe raises a hand in apology, aiming to be the bigger person instead of socking the kid in the face.

"Sorry. I wasn't looking." He offers to the guy, but you can tell he isn't buying any of it. There are about four more kids who group, a setup that isn't going to end in your favour.

"Hey punk. You don't remember me?" The upperclassmen barks out, glaring holes into your date.

You deadpan towards Childe, but he's too is racking his brain to remember. Ends up shrugging with no recollection.

"I have a list of names but they're in my other pants." Shit, what an a-grade reply. Now you know you're done for. "Listen dude, I'm kind of on a date and the vibe is going great. Don't ruin it."

"It's a good thing she's here to watch then!" The guy yells, stomping so that he's right in-front of Childe, ready to pounce. "You humiliated me in front of my gang last week. I'm here to rip you a new one."

Childe blinks, tries to remember, and when he doesn't, he grabs a wad full of cash from the his Fanny pack and throws it at the guy's feet.

Everyone's eyes bulge out of their sockets, including yours at the amount of money placed there casually on the crack of the dirty sidewalk.

"Hopefully this is enough for the damages." Childe offers, aiming to not further escalate the situation albeit how pissed he is right now. If you weren't here...well that would be another, much more violent story.

With a soft tug, Childe brings you close and begins to pass the guy, until he's abruptly stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I don't think so!" The guys barks, and his lackeys move to surround you two. "You gotta pay taxes too buddy." Oh he's getting way too comfortable now.

A feral smile grows on Childe's face as he looks over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah shithead." The guy seethes, puffing out his chest to size him up.

Childe itches for a fight. He can no longer keep in the urge and is just about ready to raise a heavy fist, but is beaten by the sound of a loud thwack, and then a painful groan following.

There you are, standing in front of the trembling asshole, spinning your crossbody bag in circles like it's a nunchuck in all it's glory. There's a deadly glint in your eyes, pure, unadulterated vexation in your features.

If Childe could fall for you any harder, it's probably happening now. In that exact moment, his heart beats in his ears uncontrollably, and there's nothing but raw adoration that piles up all at once.

You're an angel of destruction, a force not to be reckoned with, and shit, you're the eye of the fucking storm.

Fire courses through your veins as you pulverize the guy with your bag, swinging with such expertise it has Childe in awe. "He may be an absolute idiot for not remembering—"

"Hey girlie you're killing me here!" Your date snaps out of his astonishment temporarily.

"—but you don't get to call him a shithead, you asshole!" You snarl angrily, gripping the handle of your bag tightly, decking everyone that lunges at you, letting out strings of curses with every hit. Every hit sends a flock of them either stumbling back in pain, or knocked out completely.

Childe doesn't even get a chance to lift a finger by the time you're done violating them with your heavy ass pink bag. Stands there like an absolute loser.

"Apologize." You pant, prepared to send another flurry of attacks at the leader, who is crawling away with a battered face. "Apologize or I'll—I'll fucking Russian neck tie your ass."

"S-sorry!" The guy whimpers out and tries not to piss his pants at the threat.

Childe is still in too much shock at the whole ordeal to reply, short circuiting.

Another thirty seconds pass until he registers the smaller hand waving in front of his face. He catches your cold hand through his haze, brings it closer.

Running a free hand through his locks, he doesn't hide his astonishment. "You're fucking gorgeous, girlie." He whistles lowly, eyeing you with a new kind of regard.

"I-I uh." Your face is all shades of red by now, the adrenaline from kicking ass wearing down. "Let's go."

"How is that bag so heavy?" One of the fallen gasps out in pain, clutching his ribs as he trembles on the floor. "Like a buh-brick."

A part of your zipper in open, and Childe briefly peeks out of morbid curiosity. His jaw slackens. "Is that a...no, it can't be."

"It's a brick." You murmur guiltily, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Just in case." Fingers tentatively play with the straps.

Childe is head over heels by now, all smitten as a foreign warmth bubbles up in his throat, and he's just about sure he'll puke his heart out.

His next words are picked out carefully. "There's an underground fight club going on—"

You lock and aim for his right kidney.

Worth a try, Childe thinks.

"SIKE. Joking—joking. Just a joke." He insists, gloved hands raised by his ears in defence.

Clicking your tongue, you scowl and rush past him.

It hasn't even been an hour and it's been the most exciting date Childe's ever experienced. When he sees your lips twitch, he knows it's the same for you as well.

"Are we going or not?" You mumble, avoiding eye contact, a tinge of red still decorating your cheeks.

Childe crumbles into his hands at your deadly duality. One that comes for his enemies and one that comes straight for his heart.

[sakuramidnight15]

-TW OC Information-

Character Bio

Name: Nerine Cassidy

(Japanese: ネリネキャシディ)

Romaji: Nerine Kyashidi

Quote: "Ah, please return and focus on your studies, or else I'll do solidification on you."

V/A: Karin Nanami (Japanese)

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Birthday: January 26

Star Sign: Aquarius

Eye Color: Nevada Sky (Her Normal Eye Color)

Punch Pink (Second Eye Color and Half-Myth power activation)

Hair Color: Cyber Grape

Height: 167 cm

Race: Half Human, Half Myth/Hybrid

Species: Nereid

Homeland: Wintergreen Village (The fourth country in the Island of Enchantment)

Family: Isaac Delaney (Father)

Tania Cassidy (Mother)

Marina Delaney (Older Sister)

Apollo Delaney (Uncle)

___________________________

School Status and Fun Facts

Dorm: Corfringusdale (@stestylius)

School Year: Third

Class: 3-A

Student no. 3

Occupation: Student

Club: Horseback Riding Club

Best Subject: Math, Potions and Science

Dominant Hand: Left

Favorite Color: Iris Purple and Teal

Favorite Food: Macaroons and Pasta

Least Favorite Food: Bittersweet

Likes: Music, Her Older Sister, Horse-riding, Her Friends, Anime and Manga, Video Games,

Dislikes: Getting teased, Haru's pranks, Lazyness, Slacking off and Someone skipping their work

Hobbies: Studying, Singing, Horse-riding, Tutoring others (mostly for the main trio just in case), Sweets (but she doesn't want to admit it), Gaming,

Talents: Transforming into her half-myth form, Water Abilities, Hypnotism, Crystal Voice, Ice Magic, Reflection, Fast Memorization,

Nicknames:

Nerine-san or Nerine-chan (From her family and friends)

Nerine-senpai or Cassidy-senpai (From the freshmen students and mostly for Lynn and her friends)

Neri (From her Older Sister Marina and Kiara's cousin Valencia)

Ne-chan (From Freya and and Lynette)

Omnivore (From Leona, since he had no idea what to call her)

Ice Fish-chan (From Floyd)

Chanteur de glace ("Meaning: Ice Singer" From Rook)

Other Nicknames:

Milady or Lady Nerine (From the servants)

___________________________

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Nerine has a curvy and slender female body build with pale-white skin. She has cyber grape purple hair which she ties it into a braid and it reaches towards her back. She has nevada sky eyes which they can turn into punch pink when using her half-myth abilities.

She's a well-mannered and looks pretty serious on the outside but is secretly geeky and also sassy and friendly high-class noble who often helps her older sister since she's a heiress but currently in training. Is secretly an otaku but the others knew about it.

Personality: Nerine is the second child and daughter in her family, she's quite close with her older sister and uncle. She became an otaku because her uncle stuffed her interests with anime and mangas and her older sister spoiled her with a lot of sweets. This would be explain her love for sweets, despite not wanting to admit it towards the other.

Her family and uncle runs a gaming company and her older sister will inherit the business when she's gets older.

Nerine seems well-mannered like any other high-class noble but is actually sassy and geeky, she seems have no interest towards her status as a noble and wants to live her life out instead.

Despite her cold, strict and serious appearance on the outside for everyone to see and fear of, besides her good friend Kiara's presence. She's actually pretty friendly and sweet and if you're on her goodside at least.

On her good side, she's pretty friendly and also sassy and sly, I can expect her to beat you in a couple of games that she plays or not but will still beat you since she owns a video game company, of course.

If you're on her bad side and if you cause a slight trouble on her watch, do expect a ice cold glare looking down on you if you don't do your work properly or else, you're in big trouble now. Since the dorm is cold as ice, she's probably do a quick solidification on you eventually like any other ocean myth. Don't disappoint her now okay?

Despite her very own status as a high-class noble, it doesn't stop on what makes her happy for her life.

___________________________

Trivia

-The name 'Nerine' In Greek Baby Names the meaning of the name Nerine is: The sea nymphs while her surname 'Cassidy' is a common Irish surname and is sometimes used as a given name. The surname translates to "descendant of Caiside".

-She's based on two characters, The Nokk and Elsa. The creator decided to make a mix for Nerine.

-Since she likes to sing for much, she has a great talent for an soprano singer but only dang anime openings and end songs.

-She, Lynette and Freya would often play their favorite games together online after schoolwork.

-Nerine takes her work pretty seriously without any distractions.

-When she in a young age, she and her family visited the opera take to see her older sister sing but during the rehearsal, the lights above the stage almost killed older sister but Nerine sacrificed herself to save her but gotten a serious head injury in the aftermath.

-She sings a lot of anime songs but in secret though.

-Nerine and Kiara are in good terms with each other, which Nerine and Kiara often do singing battles.

-Nerine's voice sounds like any noble lady but it still holds some sass and geekness in it. Which is why I chose Karin Nanami as her voice actor.

[firebuug]

have not done an oc au ramble in a long time here is my madoka oc au cringe. gotta write my ideas down and share them or they will sit inside my blood stream and rot. it got pretty long so its just buggy ideas for now

i dont know any of the intricacies of madoka magica im just doing shit and like this show. i watched it like a few weeks ago dont come at me

buggy

he's the only bitchh ive got rotating in my mind rn. his entire magical girl theme is ocean and sailor. his little magicalgirl outfit is a sailor suit with a big ribbon and a matching ribbon in his hair because he fuckin loves dumbass outfits!!!!!! they r all like freshmen in high school so buggy has braces. his weapon is a big navy blue metal anchor attached by really long chains and he swings it around to hit, but the chains are also barbed so he can wrap people up in them to do damage! i think his wish would be something along the lines of "i wish this person/thing would never do harm on someone again" or smtng like that, so now his weapon's chains are barbed so whenever he wants to do harm on someone he will also harm himself as kind of a. equal justice kinda thing. double edged blade. he wraps bandages around his hands to try and make it hurt less but when it comes 2 protecting a person he will just grit thru it . he is a lot like sayaka in the sense that he feels like its his responsibility to protect everyone and stop witches before they happen, but seeing how no matter how much energy and will he dedicates to fighting for others the world will continue to throw punches it will. um. itll be a lot for just a little guy 😔

also witchsona bc im a slut for the witch designs, im still drawing both his magical girl form and witch form ough... idk what his witch name would be but when he turns into one his labyrinth is like a big cardboard ocean kinda like this:

n the sky is a bunch of stock images of overly cheery sunny days and vacation magazine cutouts just flashing all over the place fuck it. it looks like a big stageplay and there r always cardboard cutout islands in the horizon that r unreachable

and when you enter the labyrinth you’re on the shore of a beach with a shipwreck. and u see this huge looming shape in the distance. and its like this big bunched up sea siren mermaid thing with tentacle hair obscuring her face tangled up in a tangle of barbed chains and fishnet and its kind of like a cocoon bc the chains extend up up up into the sky and to the sides endlessly. there r pieces of sea debris and barrels and shipwreck parts in the sea floating that u have to jump across to reach the actual witch (the siren) and she is singing so so sadly to u . but the chains surrounding her act like kraken tentacles and try to pierce or at least topple anyone into the water who tries to come near her. if someone falls into the water or one of the chains draws blood the siren will start wailing and her hair tentacles will shoot out from the cage to try and grab them and pull them closer to safety, however unfortunately that usually spells instant doom for them because once she pulls you into her cage you are going to be just as fucked over by the barbed chains as she is😔so basically anyone trying to defeat her has to dodge both the chains And her attempts to save u but the more u dodge her attempts to save u the more distraught she gets which means her song hets more frantic which means the chains go wild. if u cut thru a chain it has the consistency of an octopus tentacle and will bleed strangely enough, but it will hurt the siren and count towards u fuckin Killing This Thing

also her familiars are little seagulls in sailor suits. they swoop at you to try to get you to fall over and drown 😳 in buggys magical girl transformation i think itd be cute if some seagulls fly around him tying the little ribbons together for him lol. foreshadowing! anyways he’d probably become a witch after realizing even when hes trying to help someone and use his wish for good it will always end up hurting someone else and himself even worse than he intended. which results in a witch that hurts everyone it tries to help and cannot control the harm it causes😦 anyways um madoka magica causes me so much emotional destruction