#i feel like recognizing the fact that something will end can help you cherish it more in the present

[brains-out-rn]

I don't like debating much(unless necessary for the sake of my own humanity) but sometimes it can be really Really fun specifically if it's about something that has absolutely no real weight to it(and yet if you were a spectator it might cause some concern for whatever reason)

for example: would you rather be threatened(physically mentally or emotionally take your pick) by a can of corn or a cob of corn?

Me personally I'd pick cob for a few reasons

1. I can outlast it(probably)

Fresh corn will eventually rot and decay but have you seen how long canned stuff can last unopened before it looks slightly different from new stuff??

2. Cans are made of metal not vegetable flesh

While a corn cob has its core that's not metal. Ever dropped a can? Might get a dent. If you have a good kick then you might survive but you will probably hurt your foot. Ever dropped corn? If it had it outer leaves and hair it might have stood a chance but if it didn't then bits of corn go everywhere

3. Actually fighting if needed

I feel like I could survive a fight with a sentient can but a sentient cob just seems less likely to hurt

However there are some things might change my decision

Like issue one which is how the corn moves because if the cob is fresh with hair and leaves and can move all the little hairs individually and can move the leaves then I'd probably choose the can because at that point I feel like it's less of "how would i survive with the least amount of bruising" and more of "how would I rather die but with a chance of surviving" and in my opinion i think blunt force trauma would be better then a slow death of strangulation via a sentient corns hair plus I do think I'd have a chance against a can of corn

Another issue is if it was mentally or emotionally I'd probably go with the can bc I feel like it would be easier for to rationalize it as ridiculous to be threatened by a can of corn then a cob for some reason

Like a cob is ridiculous to the point that I'd just accept it as making sense for that to happen?

a can is like "why am I listening to the can of corn. I literally own a can opener." But a cob is more like "if I were to try and deal with you in the traditional way of dealing with corn that would mean a pot and water and time and-"

Plus idk why but I feel like a cob would be less mean with its words. I can't explain it I just think cob would just go straight to physical threats instead of emotional ones but a can would stare at you menacingly making you question yourself and just judging you

[random-blurbs]

Hi I just found your blog and omg love your writing!! 10/10!! Would it be ok if I hear your thoughts or hcs on Mark but how do you think he would treat his darling if there were different species ? (Like human , mega human or an alien ?) (I’m fine with female or gn reader ^^) please 🙏

A/n: Aww thanks I appreciate reading that!! ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯

In my very professional and correct opinion - I really don’t think Mark gives a fuck if that makes sense. Like if he’s interested in you and you got a solid personality man is willing to be your #1 cheerleader. Human or not man is just happy to be there, if anything he would be mad curious wanting to know every detail about you. Which can be good for late night talks lol

So have my headcannons!!

Mark x Alien!Reader

- “Wait is that like regular you, or your costume?” He apologizes every time he remembers his first words to you when he thought he was fighting a villain recognizing how he might need to check his words from now on.

- “You didn’t know Mark it’s fine.” Even after all the apologies he always takes you out for a sweet treat every time he remembers wanting to see a smile on your face, and not hate him for his words. (Which you can never do)

- If you ever want to win an argument you always pull that card, effectively making him shut up and get on his knees to apologize.

- Without you knowing he has made a list of all your little quirks in his note apps, never wanting to forget something that can make you feel out of place with your time on Earth.

- He was always so curious where you came from, as he admired the gold lines streaking your body, it was a delicate set of patterns that glow when you’re feeling too much of one emotion. And the singular twirly antenna sprout you have on the top of your head made it hard for him to not fall for you, weirdly so. All of this effectively made you stick out when you’re walking down the streets as you’re usually beaming, a walking star practically.

-It hurts his eyes, like really bad (he’ll never tell you this) so by the end of the day he’s squinting at his mom trying to recall the moments he had good vision

- Everytime people give him the solution of sunglasses he shoots it down, wanting to embrace every part of you… even if it blinds him

- You forced him to wear sunglasses ever since you saw his trash piled with eye drops

- “How do you not find them cute?” He asked shocked, looking up at you with a scooped up kitten in his arms. “These ‘things’ are demons on my planet practically.” You say bluntly, shivering at the cat-infested home you remembered you left. Misinterpreting your words as 100% truth; whenever there’s a cat nearby he scoops you up with so much panic you always assume you’re being under attacked. But in fact it was just him throwing you over his shoulder and hauling ass away from the cat.

- He likes feeling the difference between your skin, and the gold plates practically etched onto your body feeling the difference in texture. He likes hearing the noise when he taps on it hearing a clank every time making him chuckle.

-If we’re being honest he can keep himself entertained for a good hour just doing that with every part of your body.

-He still loves and cherishes it didn’t matter what you are. He loves the crinkle your eyes do whenever you smile, the way you wear your emotions free for everyone to see never ashamed of who you were.

- You being so in tune with your emotions, you always help him understand his own considering everything he goes through, glad you’re by him through it all.

- It was a burning question every time he sees your antenna bouncing around. He needs to ask. But would he offend? He doesn’t want to. But the curiosity is killing him.

- It took him a year to ask you.

- “If like…… someone cuts your antenna do you die?”

- You couldn’t help but give him massive side-eye as you try to see if he’s holding an unknown pair of scissors. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

- “It’s not like I was going to cut it!”

- “You said it so suspiciously can you blame me!”

- You don’t die if it’s cut. (Much to your own relief whenever you see Mark holding scissors)

- He’s glad that you never joined the hero scene much to Cecil’s dismay considering he knows what’s going to happen if you do.

-Everyone is going to love you, see how beautiful you are, fall in love and there’s never going to be enough time to be one another, and you’ll leave him to rot. And he really wouldn’t want to resort to locking you in his closet so he’s grateful you’re all his.

-That’s what he says atleast as you gave him an unimpressed look at his dramatics.

- “That wouldn’t happen.”

- “You don’t know that.”

- He adores and practically kisses the floor you walk on, never feeling luckier to be called your boyfriend.

- If you get Mark to love you human or not he would do anything in his power to make you the happiest person in the planet.

[thisismeracing]

The phantom of miscommunication | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x black!plussize!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1.8k ― Warnings: not proofread; suggestive content; angst with a happy ending; mentions of an argument. Minors DNI! ― Summary: Dating a professional athlete is hard, and it’s even harder when you are famous too, and your schedules just keep crashing. how will their love beat their insecurities?  ― A/n: I took forever to finish this request, but I hope the waiting was worth it and I did the request justice 🤍.

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

You often hear about loving someone being easy and natural, a fall that you would pray the other catch you from. Turns out, as Yn discovered with Lewis, it feels natural, and she’s sure he’ll be there to catch her if she falls, but easy? Love wasn’t that easy. Or life was hard with it. 

That’s at least how it feels for her while she finishes getting ready for the last performance of her Broadway play. Alone. She’s ditching her favorite dress because it reminds her of Lewis and how he would look smug whenever she wore it because she would need his help to zip her up. Lewis loved being needed. Not in a selfish way, but in a way that meant he loved to be helpful to those he cherished. Loved to hear their joyful tones while they thanked him, or the warm arms around his body, and in her case, the cold lips against his. 

Lewis loved loudly. 

Maybe that’s why they ended up fighting that last week. Because if he loved being helpful and seeing others happy, how could he not cancel a meeting to watch her finish the play she spent months traveling around overseas? 

Yn loved silently.

It was as if she liked to feel him slide beside her in bed at night, rather than hear the noise of the door closing, and knowing he would be there. The silence that led to the moment was deeply appreciated by her. And her love somehow worked similarly. She wouldn’t ask more than twice for something she wanted, something important, something someone who loves her should know. To her, it was enough her dad showed up, he didn’t need to tell her she did a great job, no words of affirmation or bouquet of flowers and gifts whatsoever. Just their presence. And that was what Yn was expecting from Lewis: his presence. 

She felt a tear slide down her cheek and she quickly wiped it before grabbing her bag and keys and leaving her house, making her way to one of her favorite cafes. There was something so unique, it mundane on finishing her tour home. Just minutes away from the house she shared with Lewis. A quick walk to her favorite café. The view of a grey, yet very beautiful London being her company. 

Yn goes about her day doing most things on the automatic mode. Sometimes, she would think about how she always dreamt of this day when she was just younger. Starting on Broadway as a black girl was a hard task, that, in her case, was two times harder because she was also a plus-size actress. Some of the producers would reduce her to her weight, her skin tone, or just about anything, but her talent. She had to prove herself over and over until she finally became a phenomenon in the country and then, years ahead, she started to have a significant international impact. That’s when she met Lewis. She had traced most of her career, she had a name, and so did he, and maybe that was the first thing that brought them closer: the fact that it seemed as if everyone was attentively watching over them not because they wanted to appreciate the work they put on, but because they needed them to do something wrong, anything wrong, just so this wrongdoing could be talked about more than the rights.

It was hard. 

And having Lewis there to share this burden made it a bit lighter. 

Having him there to love her, and recognize her more than anyone ever would, was heartwarming. Being someone else’s first pick felt amazing. And though the ups and downs of their careers existed, they always faced it together. Just like they shared their victories together too. That’s why it felt so wrong not having him on her Musical ending show. He shared the struggles of her waking up early, and going late to bed just so she could grab each emotion needed, and memorize all the lines. She was the leading actress. The main start. Yet, she missed having him be illuminated by her light. 

Truth is, Yn felt sad without Lewis, not that her happiness depended on him showing up, but they had created those small traditions. He would always be on the final stops of her shows. She would always make it to his most expected races. 

As the saying goes, a dream you dream by yourself is just a dream, but a shared one is a reality.  It’s hard to create a reality while in a long-distance, or mostly long-distance, relationship. You gotta be ten times more attentive and understanding. So when Lewis told her he had to make it to an interview before preparing for his race weekend without even waiting for her response, it did not feel like an understanding relationship, he, for the first time, did not seem attentive. And that hurt.

“But, love, why can’t you reschedule your interview for Friday after free practice? Or maybe even Saturday after qualy?” Yn asked, a pout on her lips, while Lewis was finishing packing his suitcase. 

He sighed, “You know very well the rush after those two, Yn.”

Fair enough, “Well, then do it online! That way you could do it right before my play, and then come to the Teather after. It’s not that far from our house, you sure can make it.” She was full of solutions, to a problem that felt like Lewis himself created.

When his eyes found hers, determination written all over it, he didn’t even have to open his lips and tell her an audible “no”, she already knew, so she tried to practice healthy communication. “Look, Lew, it’s just that this is our last stop and they were okay with it being in London when most of the time it happens somewhere in the USA. You know how this city is important to me, and this play, it’s just- I can’t help but feel like you’ve been lacking in terms of support lately.”

The British finally stopped packing, dropping his shirt inside the suitcase, and leaving with a quick glance towards Yn, mumbling how he didn’t want to fight. 

“But I want you to fight with me. Fight for me!” She trailed behind him, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen. 

“Well, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Yn!” he snapped, and before he could apologize or backtrack she nodded, leaving the room. Love should never feel forced. She shouldn’t have to ask for it. 

The door slammed behind her as she made her way to the Teather to bury her head in work, sweat the hurt away, dance, and sing until the energy made her feel comfort. 

“Yn?” one of her colleagues asked, snapping Yn out of her memories. “They’re calling us for one last rehearsal before the show.”

She nodded and glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message, either an apology or a good luck one, anything that showed that he remembered, but there was nothing. Her shoulders slumped lightly and she made her way to the stage, the audience still deserved the best ending show, she deserved the best ending show. 

So that was exactly what happened: Yn shined along with the whole crew. They sang, danced, smiled, and even cried after the curtains opened to an outstanding ovation from the audience. That’s when Yn’s eyes found his, right on the front row, a bouquet of flowers on his seat, one of his shy grins, while he stood clapping the most beautiful performance he had ever seen Yn deliver.

Lewis was there.

Lewis wasn’t in an interview on the other side of the world.

He was standing there.

Smiling.

Clapping.

Proudly watching. 

And when her lips quirked up slightly he nodded as if knowing they still had to talk, but for now, he took the right decision.

When the curtains closed again and Yn made the walk to her dressing room, she wasn’t surprised to find Lewis there, “hey,” she said, closing the door behind her and staying glued to the wooden.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Lewis started. “Look, I’m-”

“Can we save all the headaches and solutions for when we get home?” She suggested, still a bit breathless from the play. “That is if you’re coming home tonight. Or are you flying to do the interview late?” 

There was a  sad smile on Lewis's plush lips, “I’m home, with you.” 

A breath of fresh air got into Lewis’ lungs when he noticed her shoulders relax with the news. She was relieved he would be home. She was happy to have him around. It wasn’t too late. 

“And I agree on saving the deep talk to when we get home, but I want to say I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t support you or love you enough to reschedule and work my way around my things. You’re my treasure, love. And I’ve been lacking lately, I’ve been stressed, and with my head all over the place, but I’ll get better. I promise,” and a Hamilton promise would always come true. You could count on that. 

Yn bit her lips, trying to hold back the tears, but they fell around her face like waterfalls just the same, and Lewis was in front of her in the blink of an eye, fingers brushing the wet splotches, lips kissing her delicate skin. 

“I’m sorry, I am so so sorry,” he whispered painly.

“I was so terrified we were about to get on a dead-end road. That you would stop showing up for my plays, and-”

“Sweetheart, breathe,” he held her face between his soft palms and Yn tried to even her breath with his. “I’m here, I’m always going to be here. You have my endless support and undying love, you can count on that.” He was a runner, one of the fastest drivers on the grid, but he could never run away from her and what she made him feel. What he could do was beat the phantom of miscommunication to the finishing line, get there first, say he’s sorry before it’s too late, and work so that this ghost won’t ever bother their relationship again. 

Yn nodded, gulping a bit more of air, and finally crashing her body on his in a tight hug. Lewis kissed her hair and found her lips with his, tasting their own tears and love. Yn mumbled how sorry she was for not being patient enough, and Lewis shook his head, kissing her again.

“I’m the sorry one, and I’m gonna make it up to it,” he explained. 

Yn arched her brows, looking into his honey eyes, “I know just the way you can express how sorry you are,” she smirked, undoing the bow for her white dress and making it cascade around her ankles. 

And Lewis did exactly that. 

He whispered apologies and love promises in her ear, the sound of a symphony with her body banging against the door. That was their private play. Their favorite one. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hiii!! I hope you guys liked it! I hope your Friday is amazing! Don't forget to reblog and leave me a comment if you can, it means a lot and it usually inspires me to write more *mwah*

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[serejae]

I DONT FEEL LONELY WHEN I SEE HER | SEOK.MATTHEW

WHAT ! - matthew bf thoughts for my menda😇

WHEN ! - (warnings) fluff, kissing, petnames

WHO ! - i get you. ill be completely new to a group but THATTTTT one is my man. ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY MENDA BOOKIE SNOOKS😇

! - dating matthew is like a breath of fresh air, he isnt too distanct nor suffocating

! - i think thats mainly based on the fact that he took time to study and know you before he asked you out. by the time it was your 1 month he already (been) knew the temperature you like certain drinks, how much milk is too much in your cereal, and if we wanna be normal, when you need space

! - i feel like the trope that most resonates with matthew to me, is bestfriends brother. him and his sister have such a cute bond that i feel like he’ll recognize some of his sisters friend, but when it was you it was different. he couldnt pull himself away, his sister quickly caught on and realized what he was up to (before helping you both out)

! - matthews favorite parts of his day is definitely the morning and nights time. how he’ll wake up with you in his arms taking some time to admire you before carefully sneaking off and getting ready for the gym. he’ll wait for the clock to go off at a certain time that he memorized to start making your breakfast and drink, cause by the time you get ready and freshen up it’ll be the perfect temperature

! - speaking of gym, i see some people describe matthew as friendly, in which yes he is BUT HE DOESNT HAVE EYES ON ANYOJE BUT YOU. in his mind you guys already have a white fenced house with a dog and 3 kids running around. but i digress, he’ll call you and work out while talking to you because there’s nothing that gets him more pumped than you. if any other person tries to talk or hit on him he’ll act like he cant hear them through his headphones as he speaks to you

! - he loves the night time, because after a long day or you both being tired and stressed at least he knows he can come home to you and relax with you in his arms again. he loves how his day begins with you and ends with you

! - if hes away he’ll definitely buy a stuff animal that reminds him of you before the trip and take photos of it doing the most basic things “look were on a breakfast date:)” captioned to a photo of a breakfast platter with the stuff animal sitting infront of it sitting straight up (he adjusted it making sure ur postures always right)

! - his family loves you, they hear all abour you 24/7. his family knows that when matthew cherishes something he means it. mattthew has a big heart that he doesnt take for granted , he’ll try to bring you over to canada as much as he can to bring you to his family, talk about his childhood town, as well as trying his favorite childhood snacks

! - you dont have many arguments with matthew but when you do, he does get rather defensive wanting to defend himself but after a couple arguments with you he learned that being defensive wouldnt get him anywhere, so he tries to keep his composure. on those days he does slip up, he reflects why and what made you two get here. afterwards he’ll try to start a convo so you both can go back to normal and the way he missed

! - sometimes to matthew he gets tired of the basic ways of showing affection. he loves physical touch yes, but he knows you know he basically latches onto anyone he loves. so he decided to make a new system for you, and just for you. he loves you more than the words i love you, i love you isnt enough to describe his love for you so he tweaks it a little. he’ll say phrases that make your heart flutter

“i wanna be with you in every life time”

“you make me believe in love”

“you make me feel safe”

“you look like the in bloom instrumental”

! - matthew would love to indulge in your interest, could be as adventurous as rock climbing to as calming as bird watching. he never complains. if you like it , he does too

! - he loves to try new things with you. he wants his first to always be with you, if the members invite him to go to a new amusement park he’ll drag you along or go later with you because he knows he’ll constantly be in a state of mind of “yn wouldve liked that”, “i wish yn couldve seen that”

! - please. before there was rizz king matthew, the amount of tries he took on you. you were his first victim at all his flirting attempts. more of them making him look silly than 🫦🫦 but youd never tell him that. for all he knows he is your rizz king❤️

! - everything always relates back to you somehow. if someone asked him what happiness meant to him the conversation will lead back to you. if someone asked him if he knew the technique of how to make the best slime, its still gonna lead back to you

! - yeah sure you’ll have to fight jiwoong and gunwook every so often for your own boyfriend but hes worth the fight right? or at least thats what he constantly tells you 🤨

! - when matthew loves you you know he does, not because he tells you all the time but its the little things he does that remind you “im right here if you need anything”

[schmerzafte]

Cloudy with a heavy chance of rain. (w/ WJSN Eunseo)

(As always, much appreciation goes to @a-casual-kpopfan for the help given to me by editing this post, it's been a while since I've posted a fic, and I hope my skills aren't that rusty. Love, schmerzhafte.)

Rain.

It always enamours you in this weird way.

It always reminds you of a…

Memory.

Is it sweet? bitter? or something else?

You do not grasp it well, but you feel it anyway.

Especially when you are accompanied by someone you adore, someone you care about, someone you love, and someone you cherish until the end. It always brightens your days when you spend time with her, seeing her smile and laugh whenever you crack a joke or two. It is a smile you will never forget, even if you have already seen it a thousand times. It still hits you deep. And hopefully, you will always experience this forever and ever.

“Hey, dummy! Don’t just blank out like that! I’m here you know.”

And with that, your thoughts that are starting to grow, embracing your memories, fade instantly. Because there is a smile that warms up your life when you look away from the window. It’s the smile that you won’t forget, after all.

“Jeez, I sometimes wonder why you do this often, you know? You always blank out randomly every time we hang out.”

Right. You know that she recognizes this behaviour very well. It always occurs whenever you spend your day alone or with her. The thoughts always linger around, emitting a bright light in what currently is a dark place. It is night, after all, which is always the time when both of you finish work, and decide to spend the rest of your days together, in this café. The café that you know well holds every beautiful moment that you and she create every time both of you come to this place after dealing with the mess that is life, especially when you work in such a busy office, and she also deals with the same thing as you are, albeit in a different environment.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, it’s just…remembering what happened to us, what we deal with together in life, and what we have to face every day, yet we get to meet here, in the exact same place, every day. It’s just…comforting.”

“After all these years, I’m still confused, and it’s slowly grinding my gears, you know.”

Oh…shit.

You know this expression very well, whenever the mood starts to shift, you can easily recognize it by staring at her face, which, while expressing an angry emotion, seems to make your smile wider, just by imagining how cute she is whenever she gets angry.

“You are a cute princess whenever you get angry, Juyeon. I’m starting to notice that as well.”

“Jeez, focus on the topic! I’m asking you why you do this!” she pouts in the most adorable way possible.

“Well, here’s why.”

And then you do the most sacrilegious thing you’ve ever done in your whole life, one that you never thought you could do to other people. But you need to do it anyway, just to prove a point, just to declare something, to her.

A boop to her nose.

“Hey!”

“That is why.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means I love you, dummy, it means that you are important to me, to my whole life.”

The expression suddenly changes, gone is the pouty face that you thought was the cutest thing in the world, and appearing to you, a surprised face that you rarely see, because she always expects the most unexpected thing from you.

But whenever you talk about this kind of stuff, she blushes very easily, like it’s second nature to her. Maybe it’s coming from her past, which you are very knowledgeable about, or because of how much you care for her, she didn’t expect it to come from you, due to how different you are acting towards your acquaintances, friends, or…someone you cherished forever.

“Don’t…just say that to me, after the fact that you BOOPED MY NOSE!”

That blush again, it’s hard to hold a smile and a laugh, seeing that beautiful expression.

“You’re so damn cute, I wish I could see this expression from you every day, every time.” You replied, whilst holding and stroking your hand to her right cheek, remembering how cute she is whenever she gets like this. And you just wish you could do this forever and ever.

“You know you can, right? We always meet at the end of our work, and whenever the weekend arrives.”

“Yeah, but I just wish I could do this to you every day, 24/7.”

“That’s just wishful thinking, you know? Oh, by the way…” she glances at the barista, which you also know well, because, of course, both of you come here after work hours, ordering the same type of drink, and spending the rest of your days together, eventually, someone from the café would recognize both of you well. “The same one!” she spoke to the barista, ordering her favourite drink, which is the hot cappuccino with brown sugar instead of white, which she always claims “It is healthier than white sugar you know. You should try it!” of course you ignored it, but you just love to see her complain about it every time you ordered a drink with white sugar. Those small things are what keep you alive, those memories that you hold forever. But, whenever she ordered a drink, you know damn well you must keep up with her, just to not leave her alone with her drinks.

“Oh, and for me, one espresso with a shot of rum.” You said to the barista. A rare combination, but you know damn well that you must work late tonight because your boss asked for an egregious amount of wishful thinking that gets approved by the department. With how close the deadline is approaching, you know that you must work harder this evening and stay up late, making letters and invitations to different companies.

“Damn, not just an espresso, but a rum as well? Guess your boss is acting up again, huh?” She scoffed at your order. “Yeah, he’s acting up again, asking for ridiculous favours, adding weird things to an already approaching deadline, which means we have to work double the time to requisite more budget and items to the other department.” You replied to her with a disgusted look.

“Well, such is life, sometimes you get a good workplace environment, sometimes you get a shitty one, just be glad that you have a nice workplace, but with the handicap that is your boss.” There’s a hint of truth in what she said. Yeah, you work every day from 9 to 3, but the workplace you live in is comfortable; a good internet connection, pantries with many ingredients to cook something when you have downtime, an actual good income, and many friendly colleagues that always support one another. It is a rare blessing for some people, because many of those people get a shitty workplace, and a shitty boss too. That is what you’re proud of, but of course, the downside is that your boss is a tough one.

“Yeah, you’re right, anyway, the drinks have arrived!”

The barista comes with both of your beverages, her hot cappuccino, and your espresso with a shot of rum. “Still together, are we? What a lovely couple both of you are, I hope the best for both of you, living the best life, and loving each other!” she happily exclaims. You saw your soulmate smile gently whilst laughing, with a hint of blush on her cheeks. That’s a good expression to see. “Thank you, miss. We wish you the same thing as well, we hope your café keeps running well!” she happily replied to the barista, and you as well said the same thing. The café actually runs really well, it was constructed and ran probably 3 to 4 years ago, which is a good accomplishment for a self-owned café. The owner and the staff have been great to both of you, and made a drink named after both of your favourite moments in life, “Cloudy Rain”, a grey-coloured cocktail with egg white that has been shaken in order to form a “cloud of foam” that floats on the top, representing a drink that symbolizes struggle, and a hardship that both of you need to tackle to move forward in life.

“Miss Juyeon, if you have the time, can you come here at around 9.30 a.m.? We need to deliver an order, but when we saw the place where we were supposed to deliver it, we noticed that it’s your workplace. So…if you wouldn’t mind?” the barista hesitantly asked your soulmate. It’s not often that the café gets a delivery order, because it’s supposed to be a “traditional vintage café, which only serves a dine-in customer”, but when there’s an order, it usually comes from your Juyeon’s workplace, because of how she promotes the place to her colleagues and acquaintances, which in turns, creates a huge profit for the café. A rare occurrence indeed.

“Oh sure, it’s probably Hyunjung or Sojung, since both like this place’s beverages. I’m sure it’s the same order as the previous one, correct?” she asked. Call it intuition, but she knows her colleagues well enough to the point where she remembers the exact drink her colleagues ordered every time, she asks them about ordering beverages from the café. “Yes! Wow, someone’s a great colleague, huh? You’re very lucky to have a soulmate like her who cares about her colleagues.” The barista happily exclaimed. It surely puts a smile on your face too, seeing her being this cheerful, especially with how busy both of your life has been, it’s a rare occurrence, but when it happens, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment, that you will surely remember for the rest of your life.

But you feel sleepy all of a sudden, it feels like a weight is put on both of your shoulders, and your eyes share the same sensation, forcing a situation that you damn well can’t pull out from, with how intense work and life is. It’s weird, because you’re supposed to be awake, with how you ordered such heavy caffeine, combined with a rum as well. It’s supposed to help you with your work tonight. Instead, it forces you to fall asleep, knowing well that you need to drive home with Juyeon back home, in order to work more, and maybe get a proper rest. But luckily, she notices it well enough.

“Hey, dummy! Don’t go to sleep yet, you must drive us home, remember? Hey! Wake up!” she shouts while nudging your shoulder.

But the rain, the heavy feeling, and the warm sensation of Juyeon’s smile put you to sleep quickly, and you can’t help but notice that the rain continues to ring in your ears, keeping your company. It’s been like this for hours, but surely the rain will end soon, right? You clearly checked the weather app this morning, and it predicted that the rain would come to an end at around this time.

But it doesn’t.

Instead, it’s the sleepy feeling that comes to an end quickly.

You wake up in the same place, facing a window, watching the rain outside, you don’t even realize how long you have been asleep, but there’s one thing you do realize.

A familiar voice peeks into your left ear, shouting.

“Hey, it’s 1 a.m., and we are about to clean up before closing the café.”

It’s the Café owner, nudging your shoulder, whilst on her right hand, holding a broom.

After that, do you realize, that you are still in the same place.

The only difference is that you’re alone.

The heavy sensation that you felt, now comes again, but it doesn’t put you to sleep. Instead, it heavily pushes your mind and your heart. The rain, forcing you to memorize a certain moment that you, and the other person you used to be here with, shared.

With your phone in your grip, you checked, and a notification from the Calendar app came.

“11th November: Cloudy Rain.”

As you pull away from the window and your phone, there you see, on the other side of your table.

Grey-coloured Cocktail, with heavy foam on top.

And a familiar portrait of a person.

In front of it, a bouquet of White Chrysanthemum and Gladioli.

Someone who you’ve cherished all the time.

Who you’ve shared those moments, those memories, those sensations.

Someone, with whom you shared the rain together, after hour, in this very place, with a hot cappuccino, and an espresso with a shot of rum in front of you.

Someone, who you loved, to death.

And indeed, as you stare at the portrait,

of Son Juyeon.

[art-crumbs-main]

Hello. This is a oneshot fic about the cursed cat Alastor on my dash I wrote in 2 hours. No beta, we die like demons.

A.K.A, where Alastor went for 7 years. Whether I finish this is up on the wall, but I haven't written in a while and have been dying to. Here's a drabble to get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy.

CW: murder basement, implied cannibalism, Alastor being a prick, three dickhead cats

It is a happy day in Hell, and you are a horrible cat.

Your name is Alastor, and due to some unfortunate circumstances of a deal you made to save your own hide, you have found it transformed. If a bit inconvenient, your new body isn't terrible-- it doesn't quite strike fear the way it used to, but it's quite covert and just as deadly. Being something so unassuming most certainly has its perks, and you're not going to complain about all of the new information you've gained about your new surroundings. Not to mention, anything, frankly, other than a dog is fine by you, and (you're sure) by Rosie, for that matter.

Yes, your old friend, Rosie. Naturally, you're on her way to her now. You'd managed to find her in your afterlife pre-predicament, and while you know she won't recognize you at first, you're counting on the fact that she has a certain fondness for the softer things in life. Cannibal Town has been a godsend, truly the only place in Hell you immediately felt like you belonged, and finding someone you knew and quite cherished in life there didn't hurt to mould a rather high opinion of the place.

You find her at once after walking through town, of course, and who wouldn't? That distinct voice could turn heads from across the room. Or, better yet, across the square as she announces she would be off shift for tea. Tail up in the air and head cocked, you pad into town hall and find her back in a rather cozy study, munching on a bit of demon flesh with her cup. It smells fresh, and the blood coating her lips is immediately enticing, but it is far more important to get her attention first and foremost.

Swallowing your pride, you make your way across the room to her, and rub against her leg, a horrible chattering sound escaping your feline throat. You despise so much bodily contact most of the time, but Rosie has always felt rather safe to you. As such, it's not as abhorrent as you expect, and it's quite effect. You hear her gasp and you know you'd gone about this correctly.

“Oh?? Who's this, findin' his way into my private area?” She picks you up and places you on her lap. You feel small. You don't like it. She strokes you, and the fur on your tail stands on end. If she takes notice, she doesn't show it. “I'm on break, y'know, little guy! Oh, but I can't say no to a face like that... I'll take an appointment. Just for you.” Unable to thank her, rather sardonically, you make a crackling noise that resembles absolutely nothing even close to human speech. She laughs --a bright sound that made your ears flick fondly-- and scratches behind your ears. Most embarrassingly, you find yourself leaning into it. It does really feel quite nice... You lay down on her lap, suppressing the infernal motor wishing to spark to life in your chest. You must preserve whatever small dignities you have left.

Your eyes open (you're rather startled to find that they had ever closed) when Rosie offers you something from her plate, the darling. You have a passing thought about such things being unsanitary, but you don't object. You swipe it from her and take it with your rather useless mittens, licking and gnawing at it with hooked tongue and sharp teeth. She coos at you some more, which is rather embarrassing, but you can't say you didn't expect, and you let it fade into the background as you start figuring out how to divise a plan to make Rosie aware of who you really are and what you've become. You're not entirely sure why, but you have a distinct feeling she can help you. More than anyone else.

You wouldn't dare summon one of your soul contracts, after all. Sure, you could always threaten them into silence, but it's about the principle of the thing. Husk, for instance, would probably laugh in your face, and you can't have your reputation tarnished as such. Niffty... you have no idea what she'd do. Rather unpredictable, that one, though you quite appreciate her unhinged company. Anyone else is either dead by now, or too far beneath you for you to possibly offer you anything useful. You're startled from your deep train of thought by Rosie nudging you into a standing position. “Well, alright, this engagement has been lovely, but I'm gonna need my legs to work, I'm afraid!"

You nodand jump off of her, and she regards you with a funny sort of expression. Too busy to dwell, you suppose, she shrugs it off for the time being and returns to her post. You can only hope that she'll put together that something isn't quite right. Finding yourself alone, you decide to explore.

You'd been in Rosie's dwelling enough times, but never like this. Everything is so big compared to you, and the weight of it all pins your ears flat to your skull. In annoyance, mind, not intimidation. You're not as mobile, nor do you have the same perspective on life that you used to, and that's going to make investigating difficult.

What you're hoping to find, plain and simple, is something that could help you signal to Rosie that you're not some mindless beast. You note her radio with a certain pride. You're sure even before you found her, knowing her tastes, she probably listened to your show... Oh, your show. You can't possibly run it in a form like this. You can't talk! All you can do with your given vocal chords is screech into a microphone and hope someone finds it appealing. You sigh. Passions will have to be grieved at a later date. There are other things you would do better to focus your energy on.

You search the kitchen and the larder. Fresh meat is hanging from meat hooks in a chilled section of the place. You sniff at it, and its sharp smell confirms your suspicions. Rosie must have made a deal recently. You walk out of there, manipulating the doorknobs as such, and pad back into her parlor. There's a table and cozy chairs, and bookshelves-- those could be an option. After all, if you saw a cat reading a book, you would certainly think to question it. You'll reserve it as an option. It could be good if you finish exploring and need something to pass the time.

You skip over her chamber. It's not your place to go snooping in a lady's quarters uninvited. Besides, you're sure you won't necessarily find anything of use in it. You also skip over the restroom. Anything that could help you in there, isn't necessarily something you want anything to do with.

The basement is locked, but that poses little obstacle to you. You still have some of your powers, after all. You only have to look at it for it to click and open for you, the door swinging on its hinges. You suppose you could always show Rosie your magic, but you're not sure that would be enough on its own to tell her not just what, but who you are. You trust in her intelligence, but even you think you might not be able to figure it out just by the cat possessing telekinesis. Sure enough, it is Hell. There are stranger things afoot (or a-paw, you suppose) than a cat with psychic abilities.

You descend the stairs and your ears immediately prick at the moans of the wretched. You hear someone start to beg for their life, and another person exhale a gurgly breath. Your tail waves contentedly. The sounds of the broken and destitute never fail to bring up your day. Upon seeing that you are apparently small and cuddly, the begging stops short, and the poor soul it was coming from slumps back into despair. Rosie has to keep her surplus fresh, you suppose. What better way than alive? You pad up to her more lively prisoner and jump up on his lap, fixing him with a gaze devoid of sympathy.

In a desperate bid to self-soothe, he reaches up to pet you.

You bite him.

He swears, rather uncouth, you think, and attempts to swat you away from him. You evade expertly and swat back, swiping him across the face. He clutches his newly-bleeding wound and cries out. You land and turn up your chin, turning tail while you're at it, and pad back towards the stairs. You're not sure what he expected, behaving so rudely. Touching you without your permission. The nerve. The audacity. The pure entitlement! You stop at the base of the stair to lick the blood from your paw. Rather unbecoming of you to be covered in the essence of such simple-minded, inconsiderate filth.

At the top of the incline, three pairs of eyes shine down at you from their shadows. They whisper amongst themselves, before the leader of them trills down at you. To your surprise, you understand her perfectly. Mrrrow? “Just who are you?" You stop grooming and cock your head.

Prrrip! Purr-- purreow. “Who am I! You've some nerve-- I admire that.” You start up the stairs. Rrrreow. Mr-mrreow! “I've just as much right to be here as any of you, and you should know already that this bid for intimidation you've got going on isn't about to work.” The others bristle. A low growl comes from the ringleader's throat.

Rrrrrrrrrrrr... “Do watch yourself, stranger. When I asked you who you are, I meant it earnestly. Your smell is strange to me.” She hisses. “I suggest you mind your manners and answer my question to save us all quite a bit of trouble. Are you new? A stray?” You narrow your eyes.

Prrr! “Trouble! Oh, dear, well, surely no one would want that," you shoot back playfully, “And just what kind of "trouble" might I be inviting?” One of her posse finally gathers the nerve to speak for herself.

Rrrrrrrroooooowwwwww... “For you? The trouble of being torn to shreds. For us? The trouble of picking your sinew from our teeth.” You trill, amused.

Chrrrreow! “Hahaha! My, how assured of yourselves you must be. It's adorable, ladies, really. This has been fun, but let me on by, if you would. I need to keep looking for ways to communicate with your master.” They look at each other, seem to come to an agreement, and part for you. You walk past them, tail waving, entirely expecting what happens next.

The three of them, in their combined power, pounce upon you and begin trying to do as they threatened. You let them tear you up a bit --it'll make your case when you go running to Rosie far more convincing-- before you strike back, summoning your lovely pet to knock them away with its numerous shadowy limbs. They skid across the floor one by one and scatter, fur on end. A bunch of fraidy cats after all, you suppose. You hear Rosie enter the room, drawn by the commotion, you suppose.

“Mr. Radio Demon!” she scolds. You look up at her. Wait, what? She sighs. “Oh, what, you thought I wouldn't recognize the feeling of your power? Give me some credit, Al.” She interrupts your relief as she picks you up by the scruff, resting her hand on her hip. You attempt to struggle, but this is apparently your weak point-- your body is useless like this. Embarrassing as it is, it's somewhat comforting. It sort of reminds you of when you mother would grab you by your ear to scold you as a child. “Now, just what are you doin', terrorizing my cats.” Your tail waves with annoyance. They attacked YOU. Not your fault you defended yourself. After a pause, you realize she expects you to answer her. You stare at her, rather deadpan. You open your mouth and meaninglessly chatter at her.

This seems to trigger her realization.

Only just now apparently deciding to be of help, your shadow comes around and taps Rosie on the shoulder. It communicates via gestures that you're not in this form of your own will, and can't speak, and she arches her eyebrow. Then, she bursts into laughter, setting you on the floor. “Oh! Oh, Lord, what kinda mess did you get yourself into this time?" She wipes at her eye. “I'll tell you what, let me finish my work day, and then I'll call around and see what we can do to get you back to your regular imposing self, hmm?”

You blink at her in acknowledgement, irritation (however fond) plain in your gaze, and she just laughs again. “Oh, pray I don't change my mind! You're adorable! Y'know how much I like a fluffy thing with whiskers.” She kneels down and pets you, smoothing out your fur and scratching behind your ears again. They pin flat, but you don't shy away from her.

You have a feeling it's going to be a long time waiting.

[crying-fantasies]

A Wonderful Life Ahead (5)

Masterlist

Part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | 5: Time

When he was young, Blurr wasn't the best bot, Kup and the other Wreckers made sure he was aware of it before a blaster ended up killing him by his stupid confidence or by angering someone enough with his fast intake, he was way too selfish, sometimes acting way too cowardly on his panic, way to hurried on his own way to feel every pleasure life could get him, well, he kept distance from the ones that could harm his precious body or his excellent performance, but all the others: high grade energon, interfacing, shanix, the love of every mech and femme on Cybertron; you name it, he had it all.

Maybe that was the main reason he tried to deny the simple horrible fact with greedy and destructive hunger approach, the process in which his own planet and life was being torn to pieces.

Still, he found purpose once again, the fastest bot alive could still get the love of many and he was drunk on it again, he was better, he wasn't like before, Blurr committed himself to the autobot's cause, war ripped away many things he got to cherish, friends, allies and occasional lovers, he found his way going as fast as he could along all of it in hopes it would hurt less.

And then, when the war ended, Blurr had his oil house, a little later, Blurr had you, well, more like he found you, he has seen some dead humans during his time on earth and he really thought you were a corpse rotting on the street before you blinked, creeping him out of his armor, you looking so drained with the little details of your little face, plastic protection over it while he recognized you were part of those humans doing maintenance inside of Metroplex.

At first he felt disgusted, was that energon dripping from one of your side? First, ew, second, poor little thing, why did you look like that? He couldn't phantom the idea of Windblade overworking little organics, that was more like a Starscream's thing, and Metroplex wouldn't be pleased with that, so, how come that he saw you in the damaged area near his oil house so often, bots were a lot more resisting, he himself has gone about his day without a proper recharge and still going, he knew humans needed their eight hours of sleep, he saw it in a program back on earth it was a kid's show.

You looked in the need of recharge, right now.

He tries to talk to you, maybe try to make you see how badly you really look like, but you just look at him from helm to pede, those black things under your eyes make him worry, but you don't want help, you just want to sleep and when you can't you are monitoring what provides oxygen to your fellow humans in the most deep parts of the titan.

Blurr tries to talk, make little conversation, he is not the only bot interested in you, many are concerned about you, of how your organic body can be there for so long, some bots get you organic beverages which you are thankful for, removing your little protector and drinking while catching your breath then paying the bots back even when they just tried to help you, Blurr also tried but he didn't know where to get those so he did one himself, you refused profusely because, while Blurr may be one of the best bartenders on all Cybertron, he was inept in making organic friendly beverages even with all his years on earth.

Fear is something normal, so he couldn't blame you when his supposed green tea started to boil in the cube, and also he couldn't blame the bots that started to get away, he couldn't let you alone, and, in some way, this was an opportunity for him, to be close.

Most humans are soft, by their own physical nature and by their mostly peaceful environment, this kind of things are a real shock to many bots and cons that have been at war for so long, humans and their kind behavior is quite good for some.

Was it because he missed, in some way, Earth? His humans friends? He didn't know, and he was starting to suspect it wasn't exactly friendship that he was searching in you.

You see, most bots come to him, to his oil house, to talk to him about their problems and see if he can give them a different point of view and a possible solution, so expect his anxiety when he returned to his habsuit after leaving you in your living unit, his leg joints were still hurting after the incident in the highway, the receptors on his servos were sending him the shivers, the sensation of your body, your shape, the way his scanner showed your frantic heart.

It wasn't normal, it was deviant, but he could feel his spark hum soft, trying to reach out to you, calm you down with the expansion of his EM field, one you would never feel or understand, not even distinguish from simple static electricity.

Was this what he had been hearing around? Are humans really good for bots? He isn't sure, and, in all honesty, it feels way more awful than it should be giving than, even if he can entertain the thought of giving in and really think of something more then what? Really, he needs somebot to tell him a yes or no answer, he doesn't want a detailed explanation, he only wants to know if it's really worth it to go out there and ask you out, Blurr knows you see him as a sentient being as any other mech, but you are polite, maybe a little daring with him, slag it, he could even describe you as playful from time to time.

He isn't sure is you could even see him in the way he could want, he isn't made of flesh like you and while he can so easily scan you to know how your biology works to some level he has still to learn if you are serious or not when you call him "handsome".

Color him surprised, also hyper aware of where he is getting to, when he does ask you out with all the intentions of this being something else he gets a new kind of feeling when you say yes, a new pulse of happiness that makes him have the energy to run down every race track on Cybertron, but it also brought an endless spiraling thought.

"When do humans usually die?"

It was silly to ask such a thing when you two are together during the night cycle, Blurr's optics are the only light in his habsuit since the window is closed, he wished his mouth and brain processor would think twice before asking, it would have been a stupid question for anyone but you look at him before sighing and smiling, as if you knew deep down such a question was eating him from the inside, or at least that's the one you get to understand from his endless words.

"After having sex for the first time, that's what you ask me?" You sound incredulous, maybe a little playful, your hand is holding his faceplate or at least tries to do so.

Blurr is grateful for having you here, on the way you try to be around even when is so difficult given how your body is so little, only hearing a little sound of amusement escape your mouth when his inner system had to reboot when the sensation of your body was way too much for him, he feel your soft hands on him, the way your heart is going on slowly after such a fast movement he thought was going to tear the tissue apart, he was scared as he was being hyper focused on the way you were near him, in more ways that he thought would ever happen at some point, "I mean, I've a vague idea of it"

"Some people don't get long, some do"

"What makes the difference in those cases?" How can he keep you alive for a longer time? You seem to have all the answers sometimes, when you two are arguing or when you are trying to calm him down.

He is being greedy, because he doesn't want this, any of this to end.

"There are too many: diseases, injuries, life or death situations can't be predicted" you seem to catch on his worries, kissing him with your soft lips which he accepts at the second, using his servo to keep you close and moving around to have you above him, his ankle guard pressing into the berth just like his back strut.

Such desire on his spark can't be described, thoughts difficult to give a proper way to express through with his vocalizer to make it know to you, still, after what you call "love making" he is still amazed by the way your heart and whole body can get in tune with his, how your way of describe the act of interfacing make this so much deeper, so much intimate than before, how your touch can make him feel something different everytime your little fingers get their way on his spark chamber and make feel totally different and new to all the times he spark bonded with any bot during interface, the way you kiss his spark and how his vocalizer glitches and all you get is neocybex that is impossible for you to understand but can only describe how much Blurr loves you as fast as he can in just a matter of seconds, his worries fade away by a moment to cherish it to the fullest when you experience desire for him and also love, rendering him almost blank in the processor with the only objective of bringing you more pleasure while he can, finally, express what his spark wants in a single human word: "Stay!"

If he could or if it was on his power you would live forever, stay with him forever.

Such a thing is wishful thinking.

But live goes on, it goes slow for him in comparison with you own lifespan which, to your surprise, has been expanded, there is still questions as to why it happened but he is happy nonetheless, specially when he receives on his servos the little piece of you that he has been waiting for 9 whole earth months, not really hearing the baby's crying or the nurses trying to stop him when he gets your new born daughter, his new born little femmling, to bask in the sunlight that is the center of the universe, the little baby slowly ceasing her crying while she snuggles near to his chest armor with a sour expression on her funny face that makes him cry and laugh at the same time before going back to you, "slow, slow" he chants between tears of coolant and getting himself inside the medbay again.

Time is a beautiful thing while he gets to cherish while it goes by slowly, he doesn't care how slow because that means more time with you and Ripley, it means more time to love you and also more time to see Ripley and Typhoon grow.

Still, time is so merciless when he notices how Ripley grows up way too fast, no spark to stop her from aging normally like any human, how Ty is already a totally developed mech even when he was the littlest sparkling Blurr has ever seen, how your hair take a silver color, it's slow, taking centuries in comparison to other humans, but time is still going to take to you away from him in some point.

"Blurr?" Your voice gets him away from his usual worry, Typhoon is looking at you both, his son's golden visor glowing, worried in a way he shares with Blurr by the fact of your own nature and also Ripley's.

So, Blurr smiles before kissing you softly, placing you over his shoulder armor while saying: "It's nothing".

[ash-imagines]

The I HATE YOU Mario creepypasta, even though it's satire, kind of left a big impression on me, and I will now attempt to articulate why.

Canon Luigi is content not to be in the spotlight with his brother. He doesn't envy Mario's fame. He admires Mario and wants to be capable of doing similarly heroic things, but he doesn't feel that way because he wants any sort of recognition for it. Luigi just knows that helping others is a good thing to do, and he doesn't mind living in his brother's shadow as long as he's impacting people's lives in a positive way.

The idea of flipping this narrative on its head has been explored plenty of times, but I think the I HATE YOU creepypasta does it in a way that is surprisingly evocative for something that the author wasn't intending for anyone to take seriously.

Unlike canon Luigi, IHY Luigi is incensed that he doesn't get the recognition his brother does. He's tired of being the lesser version of Mario, of nobody even caring enough to remember his name. He could do all the same things that Mario does and then some, and he'd still get overlooked. So, if he can't stand apart from his brother doing what's right, he can make everyone regret writing him off by teaming up with Bowser and putting an end to Mario.

Of course, he ends up dying for challenging the status quo like that. Turning to villainy and attempting fratricide is a great way to put yourself in the path of karma. It is kind of tragic, though. I don't think it's wrong to want to be recognized for the good things you've done. I don't blame IHY Luigi for being upset that his achievements are completely ignored in favor of his brother's. The fact that IHY Mario mourns having had to kill his brother makes me wonder if IHY Luigi wasn't bottling up those feelings. Maybe IHY Mario had no idea his brother was pissed like this in the first place.

I think what makes IHY so evocative is that, even if it's being tongue-in-cheek, it's touching on ideas that are pretty devastating if you imagine yourself in the place of the brothers. What if you were betrayed by someone you love and trust? What would make you mad enough to betray the people closest to you? What if you actually can't trust the people you thought you could? What if it's true that life isn't fair, and there's just nothing you or anyone else can do about it? An often overlooked aspect of horror is the horror of the mundane. We know at the end of the day that monsters can't really get us, but there are plenty of real-life things and people that could hurt us in ways far worse than any monster could. And, more often than not, those things and people are what we cherish most. That's effective horror.

[shxtodxroki]

Match-Up Exchange

This is part of an Obey Me match-up exchange done for @courtofmatchups for the exchange we arranged! Hi hi, thank you for agreeing to an exchange with me! I wrote this using second person for your OC that you sent the request in for, so when I say “you” I mean your OC! :D I hope you enjoy the match-up :>

I’d Match You With:

Simeon! :)

Reasoning:

Honestly, I found that you and Simeon had quite a few similarities both in personalities and in hobbies/interests, but you also both had enough differences that your relationship would be a perfect balance of having your own interests/hobbies but also plenty of things to do together :) I also just thought he’d be the perfect partner for you based on your description of yourself as well as what you do and don’t like in a person

Headcanons About Your Relationship:

- First things first, I think he would find your hair really beautiful, and he loves helping you with it if/when you’ll allow him. He enjoys brushing through it and is so gentle to make sure he doesn’t cause you any pain, and he’s an expert at styling hair (because Simeon’s good at pretty much everything lol) so he loves to put it up for you if you’ll let him :>

- And he love love loves your aesthetic as well! He thinks the put-together, academia type style is so attractive in general and it looks especially good on you in his eyes, and blue and purple are both two of his favorite colors too <3 He’s constantly complimenting your style and wardrobe, he literally adores every outfit you put together

- He finds your tradition of baking a homemade cake on birthdays so endearing, the first time you baked one for him and he saw the silly message you had put on top he was literally close to tears hehe :] He’s very sentimental and he loves things like that, and I think he would take a photo of the cake on his phone (after a few minutes of figuring how to turn the flash off lol) before anyone’s allowed to dig into it. It’s become his favorite part of his birthday, getting to enjoy something you made for him and feeling loved by the person he cherishes most <3

- He would also adore your cooking. He has quite the sweet tooth between your baking and Luke’s, but he can’t deny that he absolutely loves a nice warm home-cooked meal as well, and he gets so excited whenever you cook your favorite South Asian foods :D He’s not picky so enjoys almost anything you make, and if you’re ever in the mood to try out a new recipe, he’s more than happy to be your guinea pig 

- He knows how much you adore stargazing, and so sometimes on clear nights, especially when he knows you’re having a hard time or going through something difficult, he’ll meet up with you and bring you out to a nice, clear field in the Devildom and just hold you as the two of you stargaze together. He’s happy to stay there with you as late as you’d like, he would spend the whole night out there if you asked him to just to see you smile <3

- Simeon knows how incredibly smart you are, and he regularly praises you for that fact and is the first to recognize your achievements, but he also notices when you’re struggling with feelings of burn-out or imposter syndrome. He’s incredibly perceptive especially when it comes to you, and he’s always the first to notice when you just feel like you’re at the end of your rope 

- And when that does happen, he'll pull you into his lap or wrap his arms around you from behind as you work, bringing you a cup of herbal tea or affogato and gently massaging your shoulders and back. He won’t force you to stop working, because he doesn’t want to undermine you, but if you even hint at wanting to take a break he’s quick to jump on it and convince you that you’re more than smart and good enough, and that you deserve a chance to rest and take care of yourself <3

- He also really isn’t a fan of unnecessary conflict. He can be sassy sometimes and is very particular about things that are important to him, but he never takes it too far, as he hates genuine arguments or hostility. And because of this, the two of you strive to communicate well and avoid those kinds of conflicts in your relationship, which makes your relationship so open and healthy <3 You two hardly ever fight and are usually quick to resolve disagreements just because argumentative environments quickly get overwhelming to both of you

- He can be a little bit cheesy at times, though, and he particularly loves getting you space-themed gifts for any major celebrations or holidays. Some of them are super cheesy and things you may not use often, but you can tell he thought of you the moment he saw space patterns and he looks so proud when he gives you all his gifts :> And sometimes he finds beautiful things to give to you, so it’s clear his heart is in the right place <3

- I think he’d also really enjoy reading with you <3 As a writer himself he loves a good piece of literature when he sees it, and you two will often either read the same book so you can converse about it when you get together, or one of you will read to the other while you cuddle or lay down together so that you can share your thoughts right in the moment :]

Second Choice:

I almost matched you with Barbatos, just because you two also have many similar interests, likes, and qualities. I think that a relationship between you two would also be really loving and you’d fit really well together, I just thought Simeon would be the better choice in the end since I figured he provides a good balance of similarities and differences to you.

Song For Your Relationship:

Labyrinth by Taylor Swift <3

[eternalwritess]

I would like to request an mha match up please :)

Gender: demigirl (she/they pronouns)

Sexuality: bi and ace flux (I fluctuate all over the asexuality spectrum and it's random af)

Appearance: I'm about 5'2, have green eyes, ginger hair with black dip dye, my hair is curly/wavy and almost reaches my butt, I'm also really pale (I have been compared to a ghost before), I have a little bit of a chubby belly, I dress alt/emo/goth

Personality: I'm quite stubborn but I'm more willing to figure out a potential compromise with people I care about. I'm extremely loyal and protective. I'm quiet in social situations and tend to avoid big gatherings, however when I'm alone or with people I'm comfortable with I can get quite loud. I'm also just a bit of a silly goose :>

Likes: I love music, mostly metal and rock music but I do have a soft spot for disney songs, monster high songs and mlp songs (they have no right to be that good). I also love gaming, I like games like call of duty, minecraft, mario games, horror games and stuff like that. I also love to read manga and watch anime.

Dislikes: I hate spiders. I also hate people who are indirect with things/beat around the bush a lot. Also I have coffee.

Fun facts: I'm autistic. I'm a vegetarian. I can bake really well.

Love languages: I love giving and receiving physical touch, quality time and words of affirmation.

What I'm looking for in a partner: someone who can provide stability, make me feel safe and cherished. Someone who listens when I need to vent but also someone who I can have fun with, in other words, someone who can be serious when needed but also knows how to have fun.

Take as much time as you need with this if you choose to do it, and here's a silly goose for good vibes 🪿

i match you with... 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓪 𝓐𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓸 ██ 20% _ ████ 60% _ █████ 80% _ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

✥ I think the two of you would meet before UA and would've been relatively good friends before then. You were mostly likely in her circle of friends at the time and she helped pushed you into getting to UA once she heard that you might do it

✥ As the two of you would train for UA she would blasts songs the entire time and constantly took songs from your own playlist too and whenever she would recognize one she would sing her whole heart out along with it

✥ She'd always encourage your more loud and energetic side and would commonly bring it out without much trouble at all

✥ Once she heard that the both of you had gotten into UA she was absolutely ecstatic jumping up and down and demanding that the two of you celebrate almost instantly. You guys ended up playing a bunch of video games and watching all of your favorite anime shortly after... Mina also brought snacks :)

✥ Once the two of you actually got into UA a few weeks after she started noticing that she was in fact actually in love with you and quickly decided to do something about it. She was a little embarrassed at first as it was her first crush but she quickly got over it and ended up asking you out rather quickly

ヽ(｡◕o◕｡)ﾉ

✥ She totally vibes with your style and the way that you dress. She thinks that its cool and unique and will sometimes take you shopping for the both of you to buy more clothes

✥ If you ever don't like a social gathering or situation Mina will do literally whatever it takes for the both of you to get out of it as she doesn't want you to be alone. She constantly makes excuses and rather good ones too for getting the two of you out of them. Then afterwards you both go and watch an anime of some kind or play a video game

✥ Mina doesn't mind the fact that you're a vegetarian and in fact she respects the hell out of it and if anyone tries bullying you for it she's one of the first people if not the first person to stand up for you and tell the person to fuck off

✥ She spends all of her time with you and will constantly hug and cuddle with you. If you're both sitting on a couch in the UA dorms she crawls over to you and cuddles it literally does not matter what you're doing at the time or what the group is discussing

✥ She always will listen to you whenever you need to vent and offers good advice for you too as she wants to make sure that you're okay more than anything... she does love you after all :)

[myristicisms]

Life had such a funny way of working out, Genesis had figured in his youth that maybe he'd work his way up through the ranks of ShinRa and eventually maybe catch a glance of ShinRa's most cherished hero; Now here he sat trying ( and in his eyes, failing miserably ) to comfort the man as best as possible. Were Rhapsodos the immature fool he'd been mere years prior, he'd likely relish in the fact that the almighty Sephiroth was just as human and vulnerable as the rest of the nobodies within the company; Now though, it does little to stroke that ego he'd managed to tamp down into submission.

He couldn't begin to imagine how the other man grew up, he'd known bits and pieces of how Sephiroth was raised and such conditions were not at all suitable for a child to thrive in, especially with what knowledge he'd been forced to learn by Hollander regarding the origin of their births, the research that went into it. Disgust briefly sends a wave of nausea through his body, an unwelcome limb itching to be freed from the confines of his coat only to remain securely tucked away despite the discomfort. Monster. Not Angeal and certainly not the man he rests against, the crimson mage certainly had earned the title, though.

Falling back into that thought wasn't good for anyone though, it's what helped kickstart this mess he'd landed himself in, after all and apparently from the sounds of it, had dragged the silver haired man into it with him.

“ You know how I am, you're... Certain you'd want to do that? I fear I'll only end up asking for too much and hurt both of us in the end. ” The bite in the younger man's voice is enough to keep Genesis from pushing back too much, arguing with the man would do neither of them any good and the ginger was content to acquiesce given he's caused enough strife for them both. “ If that's the case then... I'm honored, I wish there was more of me to offer in turn but I fear what you have laying against you is all that I can give. I won't ask nor beg you to give up everything, I don't think I'd be able to cope with losing you should something happen but so long as you're doing what you believe will make you happy then I'll be content, ShinRa does not deserve you. ”

( Nor do I. )

That same little bug of a thought ghosts upon his tongue, lingering heavy within his mouth and building a growing pressure of hesitation, lingering nerves adding into that; Genesis recognizes the feeling as fear, fear of the fact that eventually Sephiroth will open his eyes and see the red head for what he is, decide that being in the crimson clad man's presence really isn't in his best interests and leave him behind and the worst of it all is the fact that Rhapsodos would not blame him one bit. The older man would leave too, if he could, unfortunately there is no leaving oneself no matter how terribly he loathed being who he was, not unless he finally allowed himself to die and rejoin the life stream that is.

“ Whatever for? Don't be ridiculous, you... You have every right to grow bothered by your autonomy being constantly ignored. ” Such a silly thing it was too, having your ability to make decisions for yourself was one of the most important things to Genesis, it damn near made him abandon his hopes of joining ShinRa just because he couldn't stand being told what to do, hated how strict the company was. He forces the odd little creature in his head to quiet down, not to preen at the subtle weight against his skull despite how soothing it is. “ I apologize, I shouldn't have made the remark I just... I'm worried is all. ”

Slender fingers awkwardly shift within the grasp, gently adjusting to properly embrace the black clad hand clutching onto them and offering a gentle squeeze in turn. He hopes it's a soothing gesture, the position itself is relatively calming, distracting enough to ignore the chill running through his typically overheating body while he further presses into Sephiroth's side. An attempt to ensure his presence is known, carving his place within the general's life further in a sorts, Genesis was many things but a liar certainly wasn't one of them and he planned on sticking around for as long as his body would allow.

“ I'd reckon I've still a few years left before I need to truly worry about anything, ” A subtle sniffle cuts through whatever remark he was going to make, still weepy it seems but for once it doesn't bother him to display such an emotion; Sephiroth was barely faring better than him in that regard and he decides perhaps now he can try to lighten the mood once more now that both have poured their hearts out. “ With that said though, if you really were serious then I expect you to tell me how divine I look on a scale of one to ten every day, any lower than a four and I fear we'll be in trouble, dear friend. ”

He does not mean to destroy the good mood Genesis had tried to create between them. He wants to laugh freely, too, and to be happy. But Sephiroth cannot find it in himself to. His heart is a fragile thing, easily broken because he hasn't yet learned how best to keep it safe. How does one learn to protect their heart without it breaking completely through the painful teacher that is life? It is a truth well hidden beneath the stoic exterior, and it is a truth few could guess at.

Professor Hojo had warned him once when he was a child sent to put down a poor, injured beast. He had told him that the world was cruel and heartless, that he needed to be cold to survive. He hadn't listened, hadn't understood, but now, faced with the impending loss of his dearest friend, he understands.

How Sephiroth wishes he didn't understand. How he wishes he could be that cold, unfeeling weapon that those outside his walls see him as. It would all be so much simpler.

"I do know." It's almost insulting, and try as he might, the silver-haired man can't quite keep the lightest hint of ice out of his tone. "My entire life, I've never been given the choice of what to do with myself. My body has never been my own. Now, it is my own, and it's my choice. To hell with ShinRa, to hell with SOLDIER, with Professor Hojo... I want to give myself, whatever it takes, to someone of my choosing." Then as quickly as it had come, he seems to regain some of the stoicism, silencing himself in a moment of self-consciousness. It was foolish talk, the talk of giving himself to someone.

But it was all he had. He'd never known himself to be anything of particular importance except as something that had, against so many odds, survived where others had not. From failed experiment to bring back a dead race to being repurposed as an efficient weapon, he has always been less a person and more of a thing. Even now, after so long in the presence of those who genuinely had seen him as a person, he defaults back to old thoughts.

"...Sorry, I..." he mutters, embarrassed, and he looks away. But his friend's head on his shoulder is warm, and even though his face is turned away, he dares to let his own head rest against Genesis's.

So emotional, the both of them, and he wonders if he's overstepped boundaries. But he doesn't want to let go of the hand in his, afraid that it might disappear. He'd lost so many people already, and his life hasn't even been that long yet.

"We'll figure it out. There is still time." Somehow, someway, he has managed to recover himself, though there is a small waver of emotion in his voice and his eyes are still a bit too soft and shimmery with tears.

[charcadett]

Can I get some good old domestic headcannons with either Larry or Brassius? Idk like their morning routines with their spouse. I bet Brassius’s bead head is hilarious

Yessssss, two of my favs. I had fun thinking about their morning routines. Larry’s mornings are normal (with little sprinkles of odd) and Brassius’ mornings technically aren’t even mornings half the time. I also think Brassius wakes up how moms wake up. You know, with a full body jolt and wide eyes.

Domestic Mornings With Larry & Brassius

Larry

- Mornings with Larry are, ultimately, uneventful. He sticks to his routine like a well-oiled machine, and it’s up to you whether you want to get up with him. While he cherishes the mornings that you spend with him, he recognizes it’s early and won’t begrudge you for sleeping in. He doesn’t use an alarm clock. He wakes up at the same time every day. It’s earlier than you’d expect. The first time he accidentally wakes you up getting out of bed, you look at the time, confused. It’s to make up for his insanely long showers and breakfast at his favorite diner.

- You can get him to stay in bed and cuddle for a little bit if you cook him breakfast. Larry will never pass up a chance to eat something you make. Having you up also helps to get him out of the shower faster. If you don’t want to cook, he’d be ecstatic to buy you breakfast. He enjoys the company. It helps him feel more energized for the workday.

- On the weekends, while he wakes up at the same time, he’ll lay in bed for hours on end waiting for you to wake up. If you talk in your sleep, he’ll respond to you like any other conversation. It’s the only time you can get him to do nothing, and you aren’t even awake for it. As soon as you open your eyes, he’s out of bed. He brings you a cup of coffee and asks if you want to get breakfast somewhere. He already has the menu pulled up on his phone for a place he wants to try and will lay next to you while you scroll through it.

- Fun facts: Larry’s morning breath is really bad. He doesn’t move when he sleeps, and sometimes, he sleeps with his eyes open. He’s scared you a few times. He won’t wake you up when he leaves the house. You’ll text him asking where he is, and he responds, “I went for a walk.” accompanied by a picture of a bird. Brings you back food if he goes out to get some; he has your order memorized.

Brassius

- Mornings with Brassius are interesting because he doesn’t sleep often. When he does, it’s always at ridiculous and erratic times. One night, he’ll go to bed at 8 AM, another Brassius is asleep by 10 PM. On top of that, he might sleep for two hours or twelve. It really depends on the night. To him, morning is the time you wake up, and breakfast is the first meal you eat that day. He can go days without sleeping sometimes. When he eventually rolls into bed, it’s in his clothes, covered in paint and clay.

- Because of this, Brassius doesn’t have a morning routine. On some mornings, when he’s got a particular sculpture he’s working on, he’s out of bed and in his studio in a flash. On other mornings, he’ll sit on the couch wrapped in a blanket with a cup of coffee. You’ve even caught him pacing back and forth and muttering to himself a few times. The one thing that stays the same, is that he always greets you with a kiss on the cheek. Brassius also tends to be a bit grumpy when he first wakes up, so he won’t say much.

- Where you fit into his schedule is up to you. He’s not talkative when he first wakes up, but he always appreciates your company. Sometimes, he’ll wake up mid-afternoon, so, likely, you’re already out of the house by then. Brassius will shoot you a quick text that he’s awake. It’s not really common that you wake up at the same time, but on the off chance that you do, the only difference is Brassius mutters a husky “good morning” and holds you for five minutes before heaving himself out of bed. He times it. If he stays any longer he’ll fall back asleep. Which would probably be good for him you try to tell him. It never works.

- Brassius doesn’t expect you to cook him breakfast. He knows his sleep schedule is abysmal, and he’s rather unpleasant in the mornings. However, if you choose to surprise him, he’ll light up. Breakfast for him is usually a slice of toast at best and a handful of the first thing he can grab at worst. (Nuts usually, but it’s been shredded cheese before) Even something as simple as scrambled eggs will be met with high praise.

- Fun facts: Like Larry, he won’t wake you up if he leaves. However, he will leave you a cute note written with dramatic, swooping calligraphy. His bedhead is bad. Really, really bad. If you laugh at him, he’ll scowl. Total blanket hog. You've woken up to the sound of him falling out of bed before.

[venomous--fics]

Anon Requested: Omg wait can i request a fic where reader feels like they aren’t good enough for eddie and venom so reader breaks up with them and eddies sad and just a lot of angst (BUT happy ending) if not thats okay !

A/n: Day 5!! I'm think about just extending the weekathon to the entire month! Not too sure yet, but I should decide quickly huh!! I just think it'd be fun to do something like that. Maybe get more and more festive along the way. What do you think?

Song: Halley's Comet by Billie Eilish

"So, that's just it? You're just gonna up and leave and not tell us why?"

He wanted to sound mad, but his voice gave it all away. You couldn't stand the thought of what you were doing to them both. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at them as you left. You didn't even bother to grab your things. You just left emptyhanded.

Subconsciously, maybe you knew you'd find your way back eventually. But...Not now.

The weight of the world began to crush you with every step you took away from their place. You knew they were watching you from the window. If you had to leave, they'd at least make sure you'd stay safe.

It all felt like a cruel punchline to an unfunny joke. How could you be such a fool to think you'd be good for them? They....They were a protector. A lethal one, but still a protector. They helped people and saved the world from every threat imaginable. You sometimes couldn't even drag yourself out of bed.

It didn't seem fair to drag them down like that. They deserved better. They deserved the world, and you just couldn't give them that. Someday they'd find someone who would.

That night was spent alone on a friend's spare guest bed. The world was so quiet. There were no streetlights beaming into your room. There was no more sounds of late night traffic or the people talking and walking as they passed under your shared window.

There was no more fighting Venom for the comforter because he'd purposely hog it just to get your attention. It always worked. There wasn't the usually jokes about forgetting to set your alarms for the work morning ahead.

You simply set your alarm and laid down. The world seemed so much colder and emptier. It didn't seem fun and bright anymore. The bed felt much more spacious now.. The pillows felt too squishy and new. The sheets looked nothing like his.

Staring at the wall wasn't going to put you to sleep any faster, so you rolled over and clamped your eyes shut. You willed yourself to not cry.

The tv kept repeating the same old stuff. Robbery after robbery. Someone got shot. A car accident. Oh, it's going to rain tomorrow.

We should be fixing that..

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore."

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore either, V."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Normally there'd be some form of a pep talk from you, but now.. Your spot on the couch was empty. All that was there to suggest that you even existed was your favorite throw pillow.

With hesitation, Eddie grabbed the pillow and held it in his lap. It still looked brand new, and that's simply because you always knew how to take care of things. Nothing of yours ever really got broken or misplaced..And you always knew just how to handle things.

"I miss them."

A thought they shared in common. It's felt like months, but it's only been a couple of weeks. Your things were still occupying space here. It was almost torturous having to look at them each day and know that you weren't going to come home.

It was that thought that broke them both. They curled up on the couch, sad and defeated. The world was incomplete because you weren't here to make ti better. A rough day at work? You'd say, "Oh, don't worry." as you made some hot coco to relax with. Emotions getting out of control? You were always there with ways to fix them.

Did they take you for granted? Did they forget to cherish you? Did they do something wrong? Everyone always told them that they were just screwups who ruined everything, so maybe they just fucked it up again.

Maybe they'd learn to live with it. Just not today.

It's just not home anymore. Home is where you were.

The rain was awfully heavy today. But you were thankful. Today was hitting you harder than the last few. You were stumbling down the sidewalk, tears streaming down your face. Nothing seemed to hold any meaning anymore. You'd pass by Mrs. Chen's shop, and normally you'd stop by there to get Eddie and V a snack or two. But now, you simply keep walking.

Today you just let your body walk. To where? Wherever you felt like you needed to go. You were so tired, and so worn down. That only help cement in the fact that you just... You were an absolute nobody. Who could love a nobody?

If only you were born gifted with the brains, the talents or even the powers. Maybe you'd be worth something. Maybe you'd see yourself as more. Maybe if you felt like you held any importance to anyone, you'd find a reason to stick around anywhere, with anyone.

Despite wanted to be more to literally anyone, all you could think is being better for them. They meant so much, no, no, they mean so much to you. It felt so dumb and childish to be so hung up on two of the goofiest creatures on this planet. You couldn't lie to anyone. You were hopelessly in love with Eddie Brock, a man who truly was a breed of his own. And you were in love with Venom, an alien with a heart bigger than his stomach but he's too embarrassed to say it.

You don't want to love them anymore. Because you still believe it was better to not be with them.

You slumped against a light post and wiped your eyes. You tried everything to stop the tears from flowing, but that only made them multiply. You'd scold yourself if you had the energy.

The world really did begin to feel more and more empty. People seemed to walk pass and not even give you a second glance. None of them cared, and to be honest, neither did you. Normally you never noticed other people, because you'd be so wrapped up in whatever it was you and Eddie, and yes, Venom too, were doing.

But they aren't here anymore. You were back to where you started. Alone and afraid of what the world had in store. You used to wake up knowing what you'd be doing...But now you weren't sure.

You remained leaned against the streetlight for an eternity. The sun had set and the moon had risen, yet you remained put. Everything was cold now. The rain had subsided, but the light continued to drip down on you, but even then, you didn't have the willpower to move.

It's better to be cold than to have never been warm, right? That is how the saying goes...Right?

You sniffled, waiting for the next set of drops to hit your head, but they never did. You slowly looked up and saw someone's hands holding up a jacket. They looked like they were doing their best to hold it up like an umbrella, and without touching you. You recognized the jacket immediately, even just from seeing the inside of it. You'd worn it so many times.

You stood up straight and turned around, being greeted with the sight of Eddie. He looked just as tired as you, and just as lost. He looked like he had a million things to say, but it seems like the cat had his tongue.

The universe was giving you a chance. For some reason.

"I'm sorry." was the first thing to spill out of your mouth.

"We're sorry, too."

"You didn- It was me. I was.." You took a step back from under the jacket, but it seems like Venom wasn't having any of that. He moved Eddie's body for him, this time, draping the jacket on your shoulders.

You gently crossed your arms and held them close, appreciating the gesture now.

"You can leave now. If you want." Eddie moved back a little, "We just saw that you were cold.."

"I don't want to go." you gripped onto the jacket, trying to fight the new wave of tears threatening to come out, "I just.. I had to because I felt like I wasn't good enough."

You were about to ramble on when Eddie cut you off, "That's why you left?"

"I'm sorry." You felt like you could just curl up and die on the sidewalk.

You looked down, staring at the cracks that littered the walkway. You'd find someway to make this poetic.

Two hands, one human and the other very much not, wrapped themselves around you as they pulled you into a warm embrace.

"Did we make you feel that way?"

The way Eddie's voice cracked made your arms go limp at your sides.

"No. I made myself feel that way- But I can't help it. You guys do so much good and I-"

"We love you."

The hug got tighter, "We used to do what we did because it was the right thing to do. But then we met you and it all changed. It seems so cliche to say that, but...It's true."

"You're just saying that."

"We adore you. We promised to do everything we can to make sure we leave this world a better place for you."

Your hands shook as your fought with yourself. You wanted to hold them just as close as they were holding you, but you felt-

"I don't deserve this.."

Unworthy.

In typical Brock fashion, and never knowing how to truly deal with his emotions, Eddie clung to you, almost pleading, "Would you just listen to what we're saying."

"You can't love me."

"Why the hell not? Huh? Whose going to stop us?"

"Nobody's going to stop us."

"Why is it me. Out of all the worthy people, why me?"

"You're such a good person. I know you don't see that..But you're the kindest person I've ever met."

"Certainly the nicest I've met..."

Every last word you wanted to yell out into the night sky just vanished from your mind. You wrapped your arms around Eddie and squeezed as hard as you could.

"How many times do we have to say it to make you believe it?"

"I'll say it a billion times," Eddie said, "Most guys would quit at a million but me? I don't know when to quit."

"It's true. He doesn't. But if saying it a billion times gets you to come home, then I'd do it a million more than him."

"I," You started, taking in a deep shaky breath, "I wanna go home regardless."

"We can talk more there if you're comfortable."

"With coco."

"I would like that."

The walk home was a talkative one.

Eddie's hand held yours tightly, but not too tight. He was so afraid that if he didn't hold it firmly enough, you'd simply slip away again. He was sure as hell not letting that happen again.

The apartment looked the exact same as when you left. You were so surprised by that. Normally they'd be a mess if you were gone for too long, and the apartment would reflect that.

"It all looks the same."

"Oh. Yeah." Eddie busied himself with fetching the hot chocolate ingredients.

"We couldn't bring ourselves to ruin your hard work...Or move your things." For the first time, Venom seemed sad.

They both seemed tired. You wanted to feel bad, knowing that they felt that way because of you. But knowing that they loved you meant that they felt bad, not because of you, but because you were gone.

Without thinking, your hand reached out and grabbed Eddie's arm, startling him a little.

"Can we go lay down for a little bit.." you asked quietly, "I think we all need a little rest."

Relief washed over him as he set down the cups and lead the way to the bedroom. There was no more words as you three crashed onto the mattress. Venom used a small tendril to turn the lamp off and pull you closer to Eddie.

"Are you okay with loving a nobody like me?" you asked as you watched him shut his eyes.

"Are you okay with loving two nobodies?"

"We are all losers."

Venom pulled a blanket over you and Eddie, going so far as to fluff the pillows under your heads.

"And that's okay. I love us the way we all are."

You yawned for the first time in ages as your eyes closed, "I love us too."

There was that familiar light coming through the window. And there was the sounds of the cars and the people. The world felt just right and you were home. You moved closer to Eddie and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips, and his arms were quick to wrap around you.

You felt a soft tendril wrap around your arm.

"I know what you're feeling and what you're thinking." His voice sounded surprisingly quiet, "But you are more than enough for us. We don't say it, but sometimes we feel the same way. You could certainly do better than us. But.."

The tendril tighten a little, but not enough to really do much.

"You left and we realized...We don't know what to do without you. We didn't feel like doing anything anymore. It felt pointless."

You turned your head to look at your arm, seeing two small white eyes staring at you with a mixture of sadness and adoration.

"I know I'm not good with these human emotions..I might never be good with them, but..I know that I love you. And Eddie loves you too. We always try our best to show you..But you are truly all we need to be happy in this life."

You were a bit shocked with how much Venom had to say. Most of the time, he tried to use the least amount of words possible to get his point across, so you knew that he meant it.

"You both complete me, and for once, I finally have the courage to say it, because I don't know when I'll get the chance to say it again."

You smiled softly at him, and moved your arm in a way where you could place a soft kiss onto the top of his tiny little worm head.

"I won't leave again. I promise we can talk about it first."

"Talking is good."

"I love you, V."

"I love you too." He seemed to pause as he shot a glance up to Eddie, just to make sure he was still asleep, "More than that guy."

"Not possible." Eddie groaned, adjusting a little.

You smiled a little as you curled up under the blanket and actually shut your eyes for good for the night. Finally, a good night's rest. You still had doubts, maybe not many and none as big and frightening as before, but that was normal.

Not everything in life is a given or a certainty. You're not promised to tomorrow and it's not a give that you'll be a millionaire. But where you are now is where you're supposed to be. Don't doubt it. The two halves of your heart will quite literally walk to the ends of the universe just to see you smile, and that's more than enough for you.

[heliads]

Patch Me Up

Thomas can’t help but set his heart on the prettiest Med-Jack in the Glade, Y/N L/N. The only problem is that Thomas is fairly sure that she’s way out of his league.

masterlist

The first time Thomas winds up in the med-jack clinic, he’s kind of embarrassed about it.

It wasn’t like he really meant to injure himself, anyway. It just so happened that he was really behind on clearing the weeds from whatever woebegotten section of the gardens the track hoes had allowed him to use, and Newt and Zart had stepped away for the time being, so Thomas got the bright idea to grab a longer blade from their casual resting place in the grass and try to lop all of the vines down before his friends saw. It was a great idea, of course, until his shins happened to be in the way.

Now Thomas is standing in the middle of his garden plot, blood leaking down into the soil, and all he can think about is the fact that he has no idea where to go from here. The vines have all been savagely cut away, which is perfect for him, but it’s too late to hide the bloodstain on the blade or the smear of red on his leg. He doesn’t really know what he expects Newt to say when he finds out, but he definitely doesn’t expect the blond boy to start laughing.

“Jeez, Greenie, you really are a klutz. First you trip while running to the Maze when you’re not even five minutes out of the Box, then you manage to stab yourself while gardening. How do you do it?” Thomas glares at his friend, who’s almost doubled over laughing now. “It’s not like it happened on purpose. Besides, I didn’t stab myself, it’s just a scratch.” Newt attempts to control himself. “Right, I’m sure about that. Not sure why you would go around slicing yourself, but I’m not about to question you. Come on, then, you’ll have to get the med-jacks to see to that.”

Thomas frowns, but follows Newt as the blond second in command starts to lead him away from the gardens and back towards the buildings of the Homestead and the center of the Glade. “The med-jacks?” Newt nods. “They’re what passes for doctors around here. They’ll fix you up with some bandages and antibiotics and you’ll be good to go, so long as you don’t stab yourself when trying to pick the tomatoes.” Newt was expecting Thomas’ attempt to hit him and dodges easily, which is unfortunate.

Eventually, Newt and Thomas enter a door into a structure that’s less a building and more just a hut. A roof is propped up on logs and twigs and whatever else the Builders could find, and Thomas can see rows of beds and tins of medical supplies lying around. It’s a mess, that’s for sure, but what isn’t in the Glade? Thomas has to hurry over to Newt, who’s already disappearing around a corner. 

When Thomas catches up with Newt again, he’s surprised to see the blond boy talking to someone, a bright smile on his face. Newt, upon seeing Thomas approach, beckons for him to come over. “This is Thomas, by the way. Thomas, this is Y/N. She’s the one who patches most of us up around here.” 

All of a sudden, Thomas feels like he’s been caught in the middle of a sunspot. There’s a girl in front of him now, a beautiful girl that makes Thomas wonder how on Earth he hasn’t seen her around before. He’s sure that he would remember her- even now, he’s doing his best to carefully memorize every detail of her face and hands and smile so he can cherish the memory for the days to come. She’s gorgeous, that much is certain, and she’s looking at him with so much happiness over just him that Thomas wants to grin stupidly.

However, he can’t just stand here gaping like an idiot, so he closes his mouth and manages a nod in greeting. Newt, watching with a raised eyebrow, seems to be enjoying this. “Don’t get too infatuated, Greenie. Y/N’s used to all of us and so she won’t ever go out with any of us. That’s just how it is.” Y/N laughs. “Maybe I’m just sick of the rest of you coming in here all the time to bother me.” Newt shrugs. “That too.”

They talk for a few moments, then Y/N claps her hands together, almost startling Thomas. “Right, Greenie, what’s your problem? I mean, what happened that would bring you to the med-jack hut?” Newt grins first at Thomas, then at Y/N. “I’m going to let you explain that one, greenbean. I’ll meet you back in the gardens.” With that, and a parting wave, Thomas is left alone with the closest thing to an angel he’s ever found in his life.

He doesn’t have time to sit and think about this, though. Y/N’s still regarding him expectantly, and Thomas can feel his cheeks start to heat up at the ridiculousness of his injury. Of course, the first time he meets a girl like Y/N he has to do it by the stupidest of means. Thomas gestures roughly towards his leg. “I, uh, accidentally cut myself.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “While in the gardens?” Thomas nods. “While in the gardens.” 

He half expects her to laugh at him like Newt had, but instead she shrugs and reaches for a roll of bandages and some ointment. “Not the worst injury I’ve seen, or the worst story. You should have seen the things Newt used to come in here for. I think he once twisted an ankle when he was walking too close to a tree and forgot to move out of the way.” Thomas almost snorts. “He what?” Y/N looks up at him, halfway through treating his cut. There’s a laugh dancing behind her eyes that makes Thomas’ smile widen in spite of itself.

“Yeah, he tripped over a tree. We all thought it was hilarious and wouldn’t stop teasing him about it for weeks. Ask him and he’ll deny it, of course, but it happened nonetheless.” Thomas’ cheeks almost hurt from smiling this much. “Is that why he limps all the time? He hurt himself doing something like that?” All of a sudden, Y/N’s smile slips away from her. There’s a look in her eyes that tells Thomas that something happens, something bad that she can’t seem to shake. “No, not that.”

She stands up now, pressing a roll of bandages into his hands. “Here, that should hold for a while. Change your bandages before you go to bed, you don’t need me for that. It’s a shallow cut, so you’ll be fine.” Thomas wants to curse himself. Why’d he have to bring that up and make her feel so bad? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Y/N forces a smile, which is almost as bad to see as if she’d just started glaring at him. “No, it’s fine. You should probably go back to the gardens, though. I think Newt is waiting.”

Before he knows it, Thomas is standing outside the med-jack hut, staring at the door closed right in front of him. For a moment, all he can do is just stay there and think about what just happened. Thomas thought that whatever had happened to Newt was old, an injury that happened a while ago. Judging by Y/N’s reaction, though, it’s still fresh in her mind, and now he’s gone and reminded her of it. What does he do about that?

The second time Thomas finds himself in the med-jack hut, he does his best to avoid it.

It wasn’t like this injury was all that bad. Still embarrassing, still ended up with blood on his hands, but he didn’t need to go to the med-jacks, he’d be fine. That’s what Thomas tried to tell Minho, anyway, but his friend wouldn’t listen. “If you end up getting that cut infected, it’ll be a lot worse and Y/N will kill us all. Just go, you’ll be in and out in ten seconds and it’ll be fine.” Thomas tries his best to protest and come up with excuses to stay away from the flimsy hospital room, but in the end, Minho won’t take no for an answer, practically dragging him towards the hut anyway.

It’s not like Thomas has a particular aversion to getting medical treatment, it’s just that he’s afraid to see the girl there waiting for him. Ever since that day, when he’d mistakenly brought up Newt’s injury, Thomas can’t help but feel guilty. He can’t figure out quite what it was that would make Y/N’s seemingly ever-bright eyes darken like an approaching storm, but it was definitely something he’d said. He’s not sure that Y/N will really want to talk to him, as she’d more than given that impression by shooing him out of her workplace, so he’s done his best to avoid the med-jack hut.

However, he can’t exactly tell all this to Minho, so all Thomas can do is try his best to argue his friend out of a trip to the hut. Minho refuses, of course, and Thomas finds himself waiting in the med-jack hut a few minutes later, arms crossed over his chest in annoyance. He sends up a silent prayer to whoever is listening that he’ll get Clint or Jeff, but when he hears someone say his name in a surprised voice, he recognizes it as Y/N and Y/N alone.

She walks over to them, holding a thermometer from where she’d been organizing a box of supplies recently arrived from the Box. “What’s up, you guys?” Minho jerks his thumb towards Thomas with a grimace. “This shank went and cut himself on the walls of the Maze while we were out running. He tripped and caught himself, but his shoulder bit it. It was kind of funny, actually.” Y/N playfully swats Minho while she walks by. “No making fun of injuries, Minho. We’ve talked about this. I’m the only one who gets to do that.”

Now she’s standing in front of Thomas, grimacing in sympathy at the small bloodstain over his shoulder blade. “You’ll need to clean that up pretty soon. Minho, you go ahead to the Map Room. I’ll take care of Thomas.” Minho flashes her a thumbs up, already starting to jog out of the room. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Y/N grins as she watches him go, then turns back to Thomas, who’s still standing there with apprehension rising in his chest. What is he supposed to say now? Sorry I brought up what might have been a traumatic incident in your past, I didn’t know and kind of felt loopy whenever you smiled at me? Yeah, that wouldn’t really work out too well.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to think at all. She’s already conjuring up a fresh grin for him, an inquisitive expression on her face. “You know, usually whenever Greenies show up, they go through the same routine of showing up here with fake injuries just to see the one girl in the Glade, but seeing as Minho had to physically drag you here, I don’t think that’s the case. Bandages again?” Thomas manages to nod. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Y/N’s already spinning back across the room to grab the roll of bandages, but she holds up a finger in the air just in case. “That’s good, because I wasn’t asking. That’s a little check, just to make sure you aren’t out of your shucking mind.” Thomas snorts. “Who isn’t?” Y/N laughs as she starts to dress the wound. “Well, I was kind of wondering if you were. You’ve practically been avoiding me ever since we met.”

Thomas has to admit that this is true- in all of his fear to misspeak again, he’s been constantly passing up opportunities to talk to Y/N again. He doesn’t sit next to her at meals, he doesn’t cross the bonfire to say hello. Looking back at it now, it does look as if he’s been trying to distance himself, even if that couldn’t be further from how he felt. Thomas scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maybe I’m still a dumb Greenie who doesn’t know how to talk to the one girl in the Glade.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “That’s a lie and you know it. Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?” There’s a hesitancy in her question, like she’s second-guessing herself. Thomas almost rushes over himself in his haste to convince her that this isn’t her fault. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just- I know I upset you the last time we talked, and I felt bad about that. I guess I just kind of figured that you wouldn’t want to see me for a while.”

Y/N looks up at him in surprise, bandages forgotten. “What are you talking about? Thomas, that was a one time thing, I swear. It was just a hard day and a hard memory, nothing more. Shuck, you’ve been guilting yourself over this the entire time?” Thomas shrugs, a slight smile on his lips. “Well, not the whole time.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, he clarifies. “Maybe a little bit more than most of the time. Okay, a lot.”

Y/N giggles, and Thomas almost wants to make a fool of himself a few more times just to hear it. “Consider this whole thing over and done. I officially forgive you for something that I forgot about an hour after the conversation.” She grins, and Thomas grins with her. “That sounds good to me.” Y/N nods, taking a step backward to consider her work. “You know what would sound good to me? If you stopped injuring yourself all the time. I mean, I go through a roll of bandages like every hour.”

Thomas scoffs. “That’s because there are more shanks in the Glade than just me, Y/N. I’m not the only one getting hurt.” Y/N points at him to further her point. “Yeah, you’d better not. In fact, simply stop being injured. Easy as that.” He can’t help but laugh, and Y/N’s eyes sparkle triumphantly at this. “You’ve got a nice laugh, Thomas.” As with anyone else, Thomas’ laugh dries up slightly when he hears this truth, like the second he’s complimented he has to hide that very thing.

He doesn’t know what to do now, where to go from here. All he can really do is stand here and watch her smiling at him. To be honest, Thomas is fairly sure that’s all he would ever want to do. He knows it’s time for him to leave and stop bothering her, but Y/N’s looking at him like she just might give him a chance, so he decides to offer her one. “I hear they’re having a bonfire later tonight. Want to go with me?” Y/N’s grin broadens. “Absolutely.”

Just like that, Thomas’ day is made.

maze runner tag list: the a-maze-ing (haha) @underc0vercryptid​, @ellobruv

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“Yoongi left a bunch of painkillers for you. He said you can take up to three per day.” Jin said calmly , carefully slipping the sleeves of my t shirt over my wrist as i held my arms out for him. He slipped the shirt over my head gently but his arms hit my shoulders, jostling me.   I swallowed the whimper of pain that shot through me at the movement. Mina was now awake, happily wiggling around on her rocker. 

It was a little past seven in the evening and Jungkook wasn’t due to arrive for another hour . 

“I could sleep on a bed of rusty nails right now. I’m so tired and i don’t know why. “ I whispered, staying still as he carefully drew the fabric down over my ribs, before stepping back. 

“I’ll sleep in the nursery with her. You should take the bed. You’re in no shape to be up and taking care of her when she wakes up. Jungkook’s asked me to stay here during the day because I’m not going to be performing for a couple months anyway and I’ve been losing my mind, rattling around that huge ass mansion all by myself. ” 

The phone rang, startling both of us. 

I groaned before moving to get up but Jin oppa held a hand up.

“Stay in bed. I’ll go see who it is.” 

I watched him disappear out of the room, settling back against the pillows and reaching for the ice pack in the small cooler by the bed. I had to ice my ribs every hour or so and while it didn’t seem to be helping much, I definitely appreciated the temporary numbness it offered. 

Jungkook’s guilt had driven a new wedge between us and he hadn’t so much as looked at me in three days. 

I wasn’t sure entirely if this was a good or bad thing. The fact that he seemed to be considering that he had to get his emotions under control to stop hurting the people around him was a welcome change. But the idea of going back to being ignored and treated like furniture , wasn’t really all that appealing. 

“Jungkook’s parents are on the way.” Jin’s voice broke through my reverie and i jumped. 

I resisted the urge to sob out loud . 

Mr and Mrs. Jeon were on the opposite side of the grief spectrum and just as annoying. 

Where Sooah’s parents were intent on making Jungkook remember their daughter as often as possible, Jungkook’s parents were intent on making him forget her. 

The only thing the two of them had in common was a burning hatred for me. 

Jungkook’s parents had wanted him to quit the company and sell it when it went into loss but Jungkook had categorically refused because that would result in all of his employees getting laid off, and back then Jungkook had been nothing if not ridiculously compassionate. Jungkook’s parents firmly believed that if it hadn’t been for me, their son would be back in Busan, letting them raise their granddaughter. 

“Great, that’s great. Did you tell them their son is not around?” I grimaced. I’d only met them three times in total and the last time was in the hospital two months ago when Jungkook had crashed in the middle of a board meeting, weeks of starving and dehydration catching up to him. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, getting cursed out in front of the doctors and nurses and it probably won’t be any fun in the privacy of my home either. 

Jin gave me a sympathetic smile. 

“He’s already told them he’s on the way. I’m going to take Mina out on a walk. Give you guys some privacy. Shoot me a text when they leave.” he said gently. 

“Can’t I come with?” I begged and he laughed. 

“That would be a bad idea, even if it weren’t for the cracked rib. Just relax. Smile and nod and let them spew whatever nonsense they want and then they’ll leave. ” 

I opened my mouth to tell him how many flaws there were in his plan when the doorbell rang. 

“And that’s my cue. Text me, yeah?” Jin moved to pick Mina up from the rocker before reaching for the baby carrier on the table. 

I debated the pros and cons of staying in bed and finally decided against it, gently throwing my legs off the edge and raising myself up to a sitting position. I heard vague voices by the front door, Jin’s sweet tones mingling with Jungkook’s slightly gruffer ones. 

I heard the door close and the stillness of the apartment was as oppressing as ever. I could hear him quite clearly though. The clink of the keys as they hit the bowl, the small click of the door as he locked it. 

i could imagine him, exhausted from the day’s work, briefcase held in one hand while the other tugged on the knot of his tie. 

I imagined for a second, what it must have been like for him with Sooah. She was a bright , incredibly cheerful person. Everyone kind of faded into the background when she was around. Sooah had always been the first to smile at a stranger, the first to laugh even if the joke wasn’t funny. The first one to stand up to help someone in need. 

I swallowed, clutching the sheets to ground myself. 

I guessed that she must’ve always rushed to greet him at the door. I could imagine him wrapping both arms around her waist, drawing her into a hug or even a kiss. 

 How was your day, Kookie?  (I’d heard her call him that, once when they had been at my father’s house for a charity dinner. )

I wondered if perhaps the very sight of her would have taken away all of the day’s exhaustion from him. Perhaps, he would forget all the ways his company had been failing back then at the sight of her beautiful laughing face. Perhaps losing his company hadn’t been as terrifying as losing his job.  

And perhaps once he lost her, he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing his life’s work too. And so he’d agreed to meet my father’s demands. 

My fingers began trembling a bit .

I could imagine her moving around the house, pregnant and glowing, laughing as he nuzzled into the curve of her belly. Had he perhaps pressed his lips to her skin, whispered sweet endearments to his daughter through the fabric of his wife’s clothes? Had he perhaps loved Mina, deeply? WAs it just his grief that made it hard to be near his wife. Or was it perhaps me? Me holding the baby that should have been in his beautiful wife’s arms. 

The wife he had been so madly, deeply in love with. 

Love, I thought vacantly.

It wasn’t something I had ever felt, for anyone until I’d began caring for Mina.

But what Jungkook had with his wife was something different wasn’t it? 

The love a man had for a woman. Laced with desire, longing and passion. A love that made you put their happiness over your own.  

Love like that had never been in the cards for me. 

Ever

I was an Omega. Rare and hated and known for being selfish and greedy. People didn’t love my kind. They avoided me. They always assumed I would take advantage of them. My peers growing up had treated me with so much contempt. 

 The girls would whisper how I was trying to seduce their boyfriends. The boys would call me a tease, even when I stayed far away and did nothing to attract their attention. I’d gotten used to it. It didn’t bother me. it was the way of the world for me. Ad it wasn’t like I could honestly deny some of it. 

I looked at handsome alphas and wanted them. I wanted to be held and cherished. To be bought pretty things and cared for. It had taken decades for me to beat that part of mine into submission. To remind myself that if I ever let that part of me out, it would destroy me. 

But love? Being in love with someone? 

I didn’t know what that could have been like for Jungkook. 

Or maybe I had but I couldn’t recognize it because I’d never received it myself. Whatever the cause, it was for me, a fairytale. It was hard to imagine people loving each other so much, to the extent that they would die for each other. ( Jungkook’s words still hung in the back of my mind : that he had wanted to follow her even in death ) 

Jungkook was right.

I could never know what his loss was like. 

Because I would never know what he had lost. 

It felt a little like being dipped in an ice cold lake in the middle of winter. My skin broke out in shivers, hair standing on end and I felt my throat go dry so swiftly. I’d never wanted to run away so much. I wrapped a hand sound myself, scooting back on the bed again. I reached for the blanket, wanting to pull it over my head and curl into a ball. 

Shut out the world and all the things that didn’t make sense. 

“Are you alright?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the haze in my head and I swallowed. He had an alpha’s voice and my body responded even if my mind resisted. It didn’t happen all the time. Jungkook couldn’t control me. But sometimes when I was feeling vulnerable, instincts took over . I was already dropping the blanket and smiling softly.

“Mina’s out for a walk.” I croaked out, surprised at how awful my voice sounded. 

I felt the press of something against my fingers and I blinked, staring at the glass of water Jungkook was pressing into my hand.

“Don’t worry, I called them and told them not to come over.” He said quietly , watching me drink with still trembling fingers. 

I swallowed and stared at him. 

“I... Thank you. “ I said fervently, feeling a few knots come undone in my gut. I couldn’t really stand up to Jungkook’s parents the way I did with Sooah’s parents. Because Jungkook loved them deeply and hurting them would be the same as hurting him. 

“There’s a party in a couple of days. It’s my birthday. I’m turning 34.  Yugyeom’s organizing the whole thing, so I’m going to hire a babysitter for Mina, because Jin hyung will be there too and you need help caring for her anyway. You can stay home and rest. ” he said . 

I scoffed. 

“I’m going to come with you.” I said firmly. 

Jungkook frowned. 

“What?” 

I glared at him. 

“I’m not letting you go to a party organized by your shit for brains friend, Jungkook. You’ll probably end up getting drunk out of your mind and killing someone and I’m not going to hang around to clean that up. I’m coming to that party and I’m making sure you don’t have more than one drink.  “

Jungkook’s frown deepened into a scowl. 

Did you ever look at your wife , like this? With so much loathing? I thought stupidly. Or did she only ever get to see the sweet and wonderful side of you? Did she ever annoy you the way i seem to every second of the damn day ? Did you hate certain things about her too? Or was she so perfect that you could only feel love ? 

“ I can take care of myself. Its my birthday , I can do whatever the fuck I want.“ He snapped. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Not unless you’re a five year old kid in the sandpit, which you’re not. You’re an adult and when you make stupid decisions as an adult, very real people end up paying for it. You’re old enough to know this Jungkook and for once, just listen to me. You can drink, fine. But I’m going to be there and if I see that you’re getting drunk, I’m going to bring you home. You either agree or I’m going to call Yoongi oppa .” 

That made him pause. 

“Fine. Fuck you.” He snapped, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. A few seconds later I heard the door to the shower slam shut.  

 I wanted to follow him and shake some sense into him but before I could decide if it was worth jostling my body, when another sharp pain lanced through my ribs.

Oh great. 

I took deep breaths the way Yoongi had taught me. Apparently, pneumonia was a thing that could happen, so i had to breath carefully to reduce the risk of that happening. 

The birthday party organized by Yugyeom was going to be a whole entire migraine inducing disaster. I could already feel the headache come on. It still amazed me that Jungkook was friends with him and his cronies. 

Yugyeom and his friends were the typical; brain dead alphas who thought themselves superior to all other ranks. Even worse, they viewed omegas as objects: fucktoys to be more precise and I bristled when i remembered the way he had always stared at me. 

Well, if he stepped anywhere near me, I would kick him in the teeth. 

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

When Jungkook’s mother turned up at home the next day, I wasn’t entirely surprised. I wasn’t surprised but it didn’t make things any more pleasant. 

“We’re willing to take Mina for a couple of days if you would both need time to prepare for the party. This is the first big event Jungkook’s holding after Sooah’s passing and we want it to be perfect. As his wife, i hope you’ll do your part.” 

Mrs Jeon’s pinched face did nothing for my already frayed temper. 

“There’s not much i can do with a cracked rib, mother.” I said politely. It stung, having to call this bitter, cruel woman mother but then, such was life. It was late afternoon and Jungkook was probably sitting in the comfort of his air conditioned office, being flattered and doted on by his smitten secretary while I sat here entertaining his vicious mother. 

“Nonsense, you’ve probably just scratched it. I know how you omegas like to exaggerate. “ she waved off my injury easily. “ There are so many details that need to be decided on and its unfair to drop all of those responsibilities on poor yugyeom’s head. Why don’t you go with him and help out a bit?” 

The idea of going anywhere with Kim Yugeom was easily the most repugnant thing to me. 

“I’m sure he knows Jungkook much better than I do. If i interfered, I’d only be getting in his way.” I said politely. 

Mrs. Jeon hummed.

“Well, its good that he’s agreed to the party at least. That woman never let him meet with Yugyeom or his friends when she was around.”

That woman being Jungkook’s late wife. 

I felt a sudden fondness for her. Clearly she had also recognized Yugyeom for the absolute pig that he was and kept her husband away from his rotten influence . But unlike with her, Jungkook didn’t actually care about me. So I had no way of stopping him from meeting the idiots. Yugyeom’s family was rich and reputed and it was clear that the Jeons wanted the friendship and the connection. Why else would they keep pushing for it so much?

“Is there any particular reason you’re here, mother?” I said finally, after hearing her babble on and on about caterers and invitations and what not. 

“I was hoping to meet Mina...why isn’t she here?” 

“I’m not able to care for her well, what with the rib. The doctor has advised me to rest so Jin oppa takes care of her during the day. Jungkook picks her back up on his way back from office. I can send her over to your place with him this weekend.” 

“That would be fine i suppose. Have you spoken to the decorators about changing the portraits put up in the house?”

I blinked.

“Sorry?”

“The penthouse, we’ve got it back now right? why don’t you move there. We have a cook and a housekeeper .”]

“this is closer to Jungkook’s office.” I had no idea where the penthouse was and could only hope it was farther way. 

Mrs. Jeon frowned. 

“This apartment is too small. Not to mention, you still have Sooah’s photos everywhere in this place. Surely that’s not healthy. Get rid of them and put up pictures of you and Jungkook.” 

Jungkook’s parents didn’t know that our marriage had an expiry date. i wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. But they saw me as nothing more than a way to get rid of Sooah from the deepest recesses of Jungkook’s mind. 

“I’m sure, with time...Jungkook can make that decision by himself. When he’s ready for it.” I said gently, beginning the fresh throb of pain near my temple. 

“Nonsense, Heejin. Men won’t ever move on until you force them. Have you considered getting  pregnant?” 

I jumped about a foot into the air.

“I...what.” I croaked out. 

“You need a child too. He mated you. He owes you that. I’m going to tell him that he better do his duty by you.” She said firmly. 

“Please don’t.” I shouted, stunned out of my mind. Was this woman even sane?

“Why not?” She frowned looking at me like i was the one being unreasonable. 

 Why not? Because its barely been four months since he lost his wife of seven years to childbirth. Surely, you don’t think the remedy to that is to have him go through it all over again. 

 “ Mina is still small, mother. I’m sure we can wait a while. Maybe after she’s one or two.” 

 Jungkook would probably move on by then. Of course he would. Grief was overwhelming but it was also finite. It did get smaller over time. Easier to cope with. Jungkook would eventually be able to navigate his life around his grief. He would learn to make new connections and who was to say one of those wouldn’t be a compatible match? 

So two years from now, there was no reason Jungkook shouldn’t meet another lovely woman, a beta maybe and eventually expand his family. Of course i would be nowhere in the picture at the time. But that was fine. 

I remembered something I’d read somewhere, a while back. 

 If two people are like ships that pass in the night, they meet by chance for a short time , then do not see each other ever again. 

Like ships passing by each other in the night,  I reminded myself. That's what Jungkook and I were. 

“Well, if you think that’s wise.... fine. But now that Jungkook’s doing well, why don’t you entertain people more often? You haven’t had a dinner party here yet, have you?”

And so it went on, over an over for a whole two hours until I was wrung out from sheer exhaustion, my head throbbing and nails having dug half moon indents into my palms from fisting my hands too hard. 

By the time i finally closed the door on her face, I couldn’t help but sag against the door, sinking to the floor in a heap, cracked rib be damned. 

I glanced up at the solo portrait on the wall. The one my mother in law had wanted gone. 

“She must’ve really hated you, huh?” I said casually pulling myself up to my feet and moving to the dining space to stare at her face more closely. 

She was dressed in her wedding gown, a fitted mermaid dress with lace and satin detailing. She had a bouquet of white lilies in one hand, elbows bent and the blooms resting on her shoulder while her other hand curved around her slender waist. 

Beautiful was an understatement, I thought vacantly. 

“ You look like you didn’t put up with people’s bullshit. That’s cool I guess.” I smiled a little. “ You know in another world, we may have been friends.” 

I bit my lips.

“Yugyeom was shitty to you too huh? He seems the type. i’m glad you kept Jungkook away from him. I wish you’d somehow help get him away again. He doesn’t listen to me. Thinks I’m trying to control him or something. ”

It was ridiculous. What was i doing.. Why was i talking to a framed picture on the wall. God.

But now that I’d started, I couldn’t quite stop.

“About what happened with Jungkook... I don’t want you to think i was seducing him or anything. And when i said that I hated him calling your name when we... well you know why i said it right? It wasn’t anything personal...i was just pissed. I don’t enjoy the sex by the way... I don’t think he does either but he’s an alpha and you know how it is…they need that release or they kind of lose their mind .. So trust me we both hate the principle of it.... but at least he cums and well I don’t. He’s never made me cum. That should say something about how we feel about each other.......”

“Uh.. Should I come back later?” The voice near the doorway was so unexpected my heart jumped right to my throat and I screamed, stumbling a bit to the side.

Min Yoongi stood framed by the door, one hand wrapped around a bouquet of flowers and the other clutching his bag and stethoscope. He still had his white coat on over his shirt and slacks, hair mussed like he’d run his finger through it.

It took me a second to remember that Yoongi had a key to the house.

Another second to remember exactly what I’d been doing when he came inside.

Good God.

Had he heard the part where I’d talked about Jungkook not making me cum? Surely not? Oh Please no. 

“Jungkook told me to check on you. That you couldn’t sleep last night? Are you in a lot of pain?” 

Jungkook and I had shared the bed in his room last night and I had apparently, tossed and turned and whimpered through the night in pain. Or so Jungkook claimed. 

“Uh... I’m not sure. He said so... so..” 

“you guys sleep together right?” Yoongi asked casually, taking his coat off. I stared at the way the material of the shirt strained over his shoulders, my throat just a little dry. 

Yoongi smelled so ridiculously good. He was a doctor and he was so handsome and kind to me. The attraction would have been there even if i had been a beta but as an omega, the urge to just fling myself at him and beg him to make me his, it was kind of horrifying. 

Tamping down that part of me, I gave him a casual shrug, heart still pounding. 

“Yeah. There’s just two bedrooms here and one is Mina’s nursery. So ...” I finished awkwardly, watching him move around and place his bag on the table before unwinding the stethoscope, placing it around his collar. 

He gave me a small smile. 

“I’ll just take a quick look and check how your breathing sounds. that okay?” He asked gently. 

“Oh... sure. You need me to take my shirt off?” I asked curiously. 

He gave me a quick little smirk. 

“Not for medical reasons no.” He winked. 

I felt blood rush to my face along with guilt. What was I doing? This was Jungkook’s best friend!! His hyung. Someone he trusted and I was his....

His what? 

Nothing. I was Jungkook’s nothing. When was the last time someone had flirted with me . Someone who wasn’t a grade A creep. 

Yoongi moved closer, sitting down on the kitchen stool and beckoned me to come stand between his thighs. i moved, achingly aware of how much more potent his scent was up close. He looked up at me through sooty black lashes, a small smirk on his lips, feline eyes warm and open . 

“Put your hands on my shoulders, yeah?” He prompted. 

I hesitated, fingers shaking just a little before reaching out to rest on this shirt. I kept the touch feather light , the softness of his shirt the only thing I could feel.

He hummed and bending  down to lightly tug the hem of my shirt out of the waistline of my jeans. I bit my lips to stop myself from squirming. 

He glanced up , eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze. 

“You good?” 

“Uhuhbuh.” I stuttered and he grinned wider, pulling the fabric up to the curve of my breasts. He lightly ran his finger tips over the bruised skin , humming thoughtfully .

“You’ll be fine in a few weeks. Hang on.” He pulled back, plugging the steth in his hear before holding the other end up to my chest. He pressed it against my skin, just before the underwire of my bra and it was unexpectedly cold .

I jumped, fingers curling on his shoulder and squeezing down. 

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” Yoongi whispered, hands reaching for my waist, gently holding me steady and I flushed. He looked genuinely worried , lips turned down and brows furrowed and i felt absolutely stupid. 

“Sorry. Sorry.... It’s nothing.. i just.. it’s a little cold.” I laughed nervously and his gaze softened. 

One hand still curved around my waist, he brought the diaphragm up to his mouth, holding my gaze as he gently breathed warm air all over it. 

My throat went instantly dry and i had to swallow. He pressed it against my chest again and this time it was so much warmer. .

“Better?” He prompted and i nodded, guilt and discomfort churning in my stomach. What was i doing? I had no business indulging him. i had no business indulging any man. Ever.

 I looked away, pulling my hands up off his shoulder, pushing his hand off my hip as well . He didn’t say anything his shoulders stiffened at the subtle rejection. 

A mantle of awkward tension settled over us, a small thundercloud of regret and that threatened to rain misery all over us. I wanted to kick myself.  He was older than Jungkook by four years. Thirty eight years old. 

Did he have a girlfriend? Oh god, what if he was martried?

Nausea threatened. 

“Your breathing sounds fine. Are you practicing those breathing exercises , I taught you?” He asked casually and I nodded . I couldn’t trust myself to speak. 

“Hey...” He said gently and I flinched. 

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out. “ I didn’t mean to lead you on or tease you in any way and I’m sorry if i came on to you ...”

“What?! Heejin, stop. That’s bullshit. You never did any such thing. This was all me.” He said firmly. 

I stared at him.

“I know you’re married but... your marriage, its going to end right? Eventually.” 

I made to step back but he grabbed my waist again, this time a few inches over my jean and his fingers on the bare skin of my midriff made me want to melt. He had long slender fingers, a surgeons hands, and the press of it on my skin felt so foreign and gentle and different and good. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I just... I thought we could get to know each other. Over coffee or dinner.”

I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

Because Yoongi was beautiful and handsome and so good and so much more than I could ever even dream of,  but he was and would always be so intricately woven with Jungkook and with Jungkook’s life. And I couldn’t imagine anything more messy than sticking around and watching Jungkook and his daughter forget me and move on.

“It’s.... probably a terrible idea. “ I said roughly, shaking my head. “ Its the kind of idea that would never end well.” 

“Are you sure? Because unlike Jungkook, i could probably make you cum.” He winked and I felt my face flame red. 

“Oh God...” I hissed, stumbling back. This time he let me move away, merely chuckling and reaching for his coat and bag . 

“I won’t bother you again. But the offer’s always open, yeah?” He smiled again. “ You need me to send over more pain meds?”

I shook my head mutely, begging him to just leave already. 

He nodded and held his hand up in a casual wave before walking out of the door. I collapsed on the stool and dropped my head into my arms , groaning. 

What had i gotten myself into. 

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

I didn’t actually see Jungkook for a couple of days. The meds knocked me out and he worked overtime, only arriving after I’d slept off and leaving before i woke up. Jin brought Mina around everyday and there was something absolutely exhilarating about watching her clutch at her little teething toys and rattles, gummy smile peeking out every few minutes. 

On a whim, i told Jin what had happened with Yoongi and much to my surprise he actually laughed. 

“About time . He’s been pining for what three years now?” 

I gaped at him, completely thrown.

“I..he.. what.” I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what I had heard. 

“He saw you at that art exhibition you put up in the Hyatt . By the way, don’t you paint anymore?”

I flushed. 

I had no proper response to that. What could i say? That my painting had just been yet another way to control me, only appreciated by father when he could use it to make more money. And that part of my marriage contract included that I wouldn’t paint or make any money off my art for the duration that I stayed with Jungkook. 

It was just yet another way my father reminded me that he controlled him. I didn’t fight him because he would win anyway. And the only thing he loved more than controlling people was winning battles that were always rigged in his favor. i wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I would soldier through this awful marriage and at the end of it , i would disappear without a trace. 

I shook my head vaguely and Jin hummed. 

“Yoongi doesn’t understand art but he hung around the entire nine hours , morning to night . Three whole days of him just pretending to look at the artwork while secretly making moon eyes at you.”

I could only stare in sheer disbelief. 

“i... i never knew.” 

“How could you? Yoongi’s idea of courting is pretending he doesn’t exist and fading into the background. “ Jin rolled his eyes. “ He tried approaching your father to officially court you but your old man shut that down rather brutally.” 

I swallowed . 

“I... I’m sorry.” i said feeling foolish. Three years...what? I couldn’t think beyond the shock of the information. 

“Does Jungkook know?” I asked , scared. 

Jin shook his head.

“Like I said Yoongi never made it known . He was afraid it would make life difficult for you. He didn’t want any rumors around because everyone knew your father was looking to offer you to someone rich and young. Yoongi was what , fifteen years older? That’s quite a difference.”

“Thirty eight isn’t old.” I said sharply and Jin’s brow went up. 

“Oh?” He questioned teasingly and I flushed. 

“Jungkook is eleven years older. What’s another four more years?” I shrugged.

“You’re interested then.” Jin said thoughtfully. I recoiled, shaking my head quickly.

“I...what? No. No I’m not. “ 

“Why not? If it isn’t the age, then there’s no reason  to say no. Yoongi is handsome , settled and a great guy all around and besides,  your time with Jungkook is finite right?” 

“I... I won’t cheat on him.” I said firmly. “ i can’t... I... besides, Jungkook and I... we’re... we have sex.” My ears turned red, “ I can’t do that with two guys... I’m not like that. “ 

Jin nodded.

“Its alright.. Heejinah ...I’m sorry if i pressured you or anything. You don’t have to do anything. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. Yoongi probably got carried away . More than likely he’s going to panic and avoid you for a year just to recover.” He laughed and I smiled reluctantly. 

“He’s nice I don’t want to hurt him. “ I said softly. 

“ Sometimes that’s just inevitable . People get hurt no matter what we choose.” Jin gave me a sad little smile. “ Jungkook is just as nice a gy as Yoongi. If not better. He’s just...not in the right headspace to show that side of himself to you. I wish you’d known him before Sooah. He used to be this...playful and funny kid. We all went out of our way to keep him safe. Sooah was just as amazing. Usually , we try to find flaws in people our friends  date right? Well trust me Sooah was hard to dislike .” He laughed, eyes misting over as his gaze landed on her  portrait over the mantle. 

I followed his gaze and swallowed. 

“Do you think Jungkook will ever get over her?” I asked simply. 

Jin hesitated. 

“Someday? Probably yes. But it won’t be easy. He’s ... He feels things deeply. He always has. He loved her deeply, he cared for her deeply and so its only obvious that he’s going to feel the loss of her presence very deeply too.” 

I nodded. 

“Its his birthday tomorrow.” I said softly. “ I have a gift for him. Well its not a gift from me, but a gift nonetheless.  But I’m not sure if I should give it to him.” 

Jin gave me a surprised look. 

“What do you mean?” 

I smiled bitterly.

“Just that sometimes fate can be very cruel when it chooses its players. I’m forever wondering if he would be better off or worse without me in the picture and I just can’t decide.” 

“Different. He would just be different.” Jin said calmly. 

There was nothing else i could say to that. 

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

Yugyeom had rented out the rooftop restaurant in one of the poshest Hotels in Seoul and although the party was a pool party, I hadn’t bothered dressing for it. I wore a plain sequined top and burgundy skirt that fanned out around me knees. 

The place was teeming with people his age , friends acquaintances and business partners. The women had changed into bright , skimpy bikinis and lounged about in the brightly lit pool tossing a ball around .

The older people were being hosted by the Jeons on the lower level of the restaurant in a posh ballroom. Jungkook and i would have to visit them later but for now I was content sipping a mocktail, leaning against the bar while Hoseok and Lisa flanked me on either side, pointing out who was sleeping with who. 

Jungkook was in the pool with Yugyeom and Jimin and it was impossible to tear my eyes away from him. He looked happy almost, laughing and shaking water out of his hair as he moved around with the strength and agility of an Olympic athlete. Yoongi was in the pool as well and on the opposite team with Jin and Namjoon....and it was increasingly obvious that the half a dozen bikini clad women were there simply for an excuse to touch the handsome alphas as they worked up a sweat. 

“Jungkook is such a competitive bastard.” Hoseok laughed. “But I don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi today. i can’t believe he’s in the pool. “

“Of his own volition. “ Lisa added. “ usually someone has to strip him and toss him in. 

Yoongi kept glancing at me every few minutes. It was impossible to miss. It was also impossible to miss that at least three of the six women in the pool were trying to get into his pants. 

I sighed and turned back to the bartender asking for a refill. when i turned back around, Jungkook and Yugyeom were climbing out of the pool and Jin was moving to the opposite side to take their place with Jimin. 

“Jungkook and i are going to go get a drink. Anything for you , beautiful?” Yugyeom reached out to touch me and I almost fell in my haste to get away from him. 

“Keep your hands off me.” I snapped . Jungkook frowned. 

“No need to be rude, Heejin , he was just being polite.” He said softly and i smelt the alcohol on his breath.

“Don’t drink too much Jungkook.”

“Oh come on, beautiful., Its his birthday let him live a little...” Yugyeom laughed and I glared at him.

“I’d rather have him live longer “ I snapped. “ And that can’t happen if you keep trying to give him alcohol poisoning.” 

Yugyeom rolled his eyes. 

“Is she always this dramatic, Jungkook-ah.” Yugyeom laughed. Jungkook didn’t laugh but he gave me a look that said, ‘ please don’t make a scene’ and I bit my lips. 

I didn’t want to ruin his night. He looked ....so close to a normal person tonight and whether I liked it or not Yugyeom had contributed to that. The music was apparently Jungkook’s favorites only, the pool because he loved volleyball in the water and the buffet had all his favorite foods. Yugyeom had gone out of his way to make the party perfect and i suddenly felt like the troll stomping on Jungkook’s happiness. 

Swallowing my own instinct to drag my husband away from the alpha who had his arms around him, I turned away and walked off to the pool. Yoongi’s face lit up when he saw me.

“Hey there, angel. Here to watch me kick some ass? “ He cupped his hands in the water, before tossing a handful of water at me. I blinked in surprise, laughing a little. 

“I’m just here to cheer Jin oppa. “ I said impishly, moving over to the lounge chair near his side of the pool. Yoongi’s pout was adorable and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

Maybe I could stop worrying about Jungkook for a while. Yugyeom wasn’t dangerous. Even if he got a little drunk, I was still here. So were all of our friends. 

It would be fine. 

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

it wasn’t fine. 

An hour later, I found Jungkook in a room filled with cigarette smoke and light music, yugeyom and his friends scattered around the place with a few beautiful women lounging about on their laps. 

“You said one drink Yugyeom...he’s completely out of his mind.” I said shrilly staring at where Jungkook sat on the couch , shirtless and laughing as some girl in a bikini ran her fingers up and down his arm. She had one leg draped over his thigh.  I felt sick at the very sight of it. 

its because he’s drunk ,  I told myself.  He’s drunk and can’t consent, that’s why you feel sick, nothing else.  

Yugyeom gave me an easy smile. 

“Guy just wants to have some fun. Reina’s a friend of mine. She’ll take good care of him don’t worry. She’s the birthday gift i got him. “ He leered. 

I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. 

Glaring at him, 

“Jungkook, we’re leaving. Come on.” I made to move towards him but a hand shot out, gripping my wrist like a vice. 

“Not so fast baby.... I already paid for her. You can’t just waltz in here and take away her livelihood.” He sneered. “ Unless you want to take her place. This is a special bar you know. All these lovelies, they have something in common with you.” 

I stared at him frowning.

“What does that mean?” 

“I hired them from an omega escort agency...you know because that’s all you omegas are useful for anyway.” 

I rolled my eyes, yanking on my wrist. 

“You and your medieval ideals can go to hell. I’m going home. Jungkook!!” I yelled again and this time Jungkook turned eyes landing on me. 

“Heejin?” He slurred. 

“We need to go home, Jungkook.” I said firmly. 

“Now?” He blinked. I nodded. 

“Yes now.” I made to move away but this time Yugyeom wrapped both arms around my waist, pinning me to his body. Pain , sharp and unbearable shot up my ribs and I whimpered. He was squeezing too hard and God what if the cracked rib just snapped? 

Panic began setting in and I yelped.

“Let me go you bastard.” I struggled to get away, staring in disbelief at my husband . 

Jungkook was standing but he swayed dangerously. There was no clarity there and his eyes were hooded. He was drunk. Really, really drunk. 

“Jungkook tell him to let me go!!” I yelled , trying to tamp down the panic that was rising up my throat. 

“Don’t worry Kook. Just gonna ask her to wait outside for a while. Why don’t you finish your conversation with Reina.. i’ll entertain your wife for a while.” He drawled and i felt my entire body go ice cold at that. 

Jungkook was blinking rapidly, the words clearly not registering and genuine terror began to bleed into my veins. Jungkook couldn’t even fathom that i was in genuine danger here, let alone help me. Oh God, why had i come alone? Where were the others??

Yugyeom held me tighter and i swallowed a groan . My ribs felt like they were on fire. 

“Let’s take this somewhere private, Heejin?” He whispered into my neck and i couldn’t believe it. Yugyeom was drunk yes, but was this idiot also insane? 

“Wait...no.. Yugeyom don’t be a fucking idiot. If you touch me, that’s fucking rape...You can go to prison for that .” I shouted, trying to drill some sense into his head. He wasn’t going to risk prison to make a point was he?? 

“Not if you seduce me angel...and you’re going to... Or I’ll just tell people you did...same difference , right?” he whispered. 

And then he began dragging me off to the corner and my eyes fell on a side door leading out of the room . 

 If you let him take you there this is going to become frighteningly real,  a voice screamed in my head and I inhale deeply, ready to scream loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the damned building. 

The door opened just as I opened my mouth and I froze, watching Mrs Jeon walk into the lounge, looking lost.

“What is this place?” She muttered out loud looking around and the arms around me fell away so fast, I crashed to the floor. 

“Heejin-ah!” Yoongi’s voice came from right behind her and I flinched, willing my shaking legs to stop trembling. 

“Mrs. Jeon...” I muttered, voice strained and ribs throbbing. 

“Heejin? What is going on here? Where’s my son?” 

“Fuck... Jungkook-ah...” Yoongi moved to get him and I took a deep steadying breath. 

Years ago , I’d taken a self defence class and one thing i’d definitely enjoyed learning was how to throw a punch. And It wasn’t something i’d forgotten. 

Planting my feet firmly , i lightly rotated my hips, a subtle shift, before engaging my core , drawing all the fury and helpless rage inside me into my fist. I pulled my shoulders in and took a deep breath. Punch past your target , i told myself. You’re not just going to break his jaw you’re going to put him in the hospital tonight. 

“Mrs. Jeon, Jungkook had a great time toni-” His voice was all i needed to hear  to know exactly where his mouth was behind me. 

i relaxed my muscles as i threw the punch, contracting them just as my fist landed on Kim Yugyeom’s face.  

The satisfying sound of flesh on bone felt like music to my ears and Yugyeom’s sharp cry of sheer agonizing pain even sweeter. 

He crashed to the floor in a heap and I could feel my fist throb like hell. I was going to bruise so badly. But it was worth it. 

“That was for telling me that you were going to rape me and tell everyone that i seduced you.” I said calmly. 

Yoongi let out a noise of disbelief. 

“What the actual fuck.....” He shouted. 

“Yugyeom what the fuck man? Are you out of your damned mind?” One of his friends yelled. Yugyeom merely groaned. 

He couldn’t answer, blood trickling down his chin and hands cradling his jaw, whimpers falling out of his  mouth. My own fist throbbed like hell so the damage had to be significant. 

Mrs Jeon looked horrified and when she opened her mouth i quickly held a hand up.

“I’m not doing this. Not tonight. “ I said calmly. Jungkook was quiet, the way he always got when he was drunk and I groaned. 

It was going to be a long night. 

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

“We need to talk.” I said calmly and Jungkook swallowed. 

“Heejin, I’m -”

“Hear me out first Jungkook.” I said sharply. “ I don’t need your apology, it means nothing to me because it means nothing to you. You’re not sorry that you didn’t help me last night. You’re just angry that you had to help at all. You don’t give a fuck about me. I know that and I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is you getting drunk to the point that you don’t even recognize that someone’s in need of help. “ 

I took a deep breath. 

“If you did it to me, you’ll do it to your daughter too. Yugyeom is going to get you drunk someday when you’re taking care of Mina by yourself and then when she needs you, what are you going to do?” 

“You’re right... I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk -”

“I’m only here , talking to you , because of your daughter. If it was just you, I wouldn’t give a damn because you’re an adult and if you make your bed , you can just lie on it. It wouldn’t bother me. But Mina...she’s not capable of making the right choices. She need a father who can make the right choices, because whatever shitty choice you make, your daughter is going to be there along for the ride whether she wants to or not. You drive your car off a cliff tomorrow , she’s going to be there in the car seat laughing because she doesn’t know the consequences of your choices. “ 

I clenched my fists to keep my voice even. To stop myself from yelling. 

“I have something for you. “ 

I grabbed the brown paper wrapped canvas from under the table. 

“It’s a painting . Your wife commissioned me to make this a year ago when she got pregnant.” 

He froze so eerily still that it made me nervous.

“At first , i wasn’t sure if i should be giving it to you because well... because i was marrying you ... I wasn’t sure that it would be right, coming from me ...because I was taking your wife’s place after all...”

i laughed. 

“Now I know that's just bullshit. I don’t have a place in your life. I’m a nobody. This isn’t about me. This is about you. She told me back then that you were nervous about being a father. That was all she said. And she wanted me to pain this. “ I held the canvas out to him. 

“You can see it. I’m going to go stay with Jin oppa for a few days. I want you to see it. It shows how your wife saw you. The kind of father she hoped you would be. I want you to see it and make a choice. You can either get the help you need. “ i took a deep breath, “ Or I’m going to tell Yoongi that you’re incompetent to be a father. He’ll file charges , “ I had to close my eyes to get the next words out, “ and you will lose custody of your daughter.” 

Jungkook inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists on his knees. 

“i hope you make the right choice.” 

I wrapped both my arms around myself and walked out. 

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

Author’s note. :

I’m so exhausted I’ll tag people tomorrow! 

.@girlinthemikrokosmos  @xius-exos  @sugainfireslex  @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa  @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland  @veronawrites  @blr1004   @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay@squishyjk  @itsdingdong @emmmui  @honeeybunneey  @yeonkiminnie

@just-me-and-myselfs  @delicate-snow-flake  @kpop-lore  @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld  @btsmylife21  @teresaisla

.@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie  @ meraki--life   @somewhereinthestarss  @mawwnsterr  @kookiesbreaky  @chimchoom 

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

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

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March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we dating?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much has changed in the past ten years. 

“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But we’ve always been different people.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jennie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it hits you. 

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

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what? 

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To a park where you’re not in!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, the car drives itself?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t leave. 

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 

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

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

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

“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is wrong with you? 

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

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

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it now, Jungkook?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry for what?” 

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

“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 

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

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

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

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

“Five-hundred a week?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, who are your models?” 

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

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

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

“I’m not modeling.” 

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

“Partners.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe, everything alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 

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

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

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

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You little–” 

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

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

“Why are we here?” 

“For research purposes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have to?” 

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bun, be careful!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounded oddly sexual.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Needless to say, the issue is yours. 

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

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

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

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

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 

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

“Excuse me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scream. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 

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

“What?” he wilts, “why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things change.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 

“Good night, Bun.” 

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

Some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oui, oui.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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