#my figure skater babies are finally written

[not-yden]

The first chapter of my wenclair figure skaters AU titled "Where's My Love" is now published! It wasn't as long as I planned it to be since enid will be fully introduced in chapter 2 instead of 1 but hopefully, I get to publish it next week. I hope you guys like it!

[hischierswhore]

Can you write about Luke Hughes being in a long-time relationship with a girl who is a figure skater, she goes to a competition where she wins first place and he is there with his parents supporting her, so a couple of days later when he is doing press someone asks him about it and he is like a proud boyfriend speaking about how he feels and how his family supports her too. Please, I love your writing.💕

gold medalist

pairing: luke hughes x figure skater!reader

a/n: my first fic for an NHL player! i haven't written a fic in a WHILE so i hope this is decent. also thank u anon <3

You were currently competing in the 2024 World Figure Skating Championship in Montreal. Your parents sadly were unable to make the event, the biggest event you've even been part of. Luckily for you, your boyfriend Luke and his parents had come to support you.

They looked beyond excited to watch you perform, especially Luke, who had never seen you perform before due to his hectic schedule. They were extremely supportive and could barely contain their excitement during your performance. It was moving and you looked so elegant as you glided across the ice so effortlessly.

Finally, the competition had ended and the results were ready to be revealed. You listened and applauded as the other competitors' names were called for 2nd and 3rd place, which made the butterflies in your stomach even worse. You thought you did great, but you'd also seen your competitors perform, and you were taken aback by their beautiful performances, leaving you to think that you didn't place at all.

"And the winner of the 2024 World Figure Skating Championship is... Y/N L/N!" The announcer shouted as the entire arena jumped up with cheers.

You had not processed the words that just came out of the announcers mouth. You were frozen, your hands shaking uncontrollably as you stood in the middle of the ice. You snapped out of your daze, tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks as you took it all in. You did it. You did the damn thing.

"Thank you everyone! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I am so happy! This is such a surreal moment. I can't believe any of this is happening" You exclaimed as the announcer handed you the microphone and the judges had given you flowers and your gold medal.

Moments later, you were free to meet up with Luke and his parents. The second they saw you, Luke ran to you and carried you into his arms. He held you tight and kissed your head repeatedly.

"Y/N, baby, I'm so proud of you. I love you so much, don't ever doubt yourself" He said to you, his eyes brimming with tears.

"I won't. I promise" You replied, kissing him gently on the lips.

His parents soon approached you and they were both cheering as loudly as possible for their daughter-in-law.

"Y/N we are so proud of you honey! You deserve this, you really do. Congratulations" Luke's mother said as she hugged you tightly. She pulled back and wiped away the tears from her face.

"Now go get changed! We're going to celebrate tonight!" Luke's father added as he walked off to tell everyone else about your win.

A few days later, you were back in New Jersey, seeing as Luke had a game and you had never failed to miss a single one since you started dating all those years ago.

Luke was currently doing press while you were at your shared apartment tidying up before you headed to the game. You turned on the tv to watch the press conference while you cleaned.

You were in the process of cleaning the counter when you looked at the tv to find your own image on the screen, along with Luke and his parents.

"Luke we have to ask. Your amazingly talented girlfriend Y/n recently competed in the World Figure Skating Championship and won the first place prize. What was going through your head in that moment when her name was called?" A reporter asked the 6'2 man, holding her mic towards him.

"Well, I just felt nothing short of complete pride. My beautiful girlfriend competed magnificently and did the most amazing job she possibly could. There was no question in my mind that she would take home first place, she deserved every bit of that trophy. I am so proud of her. Her dedication to the sport and hard work really paid off and it was very rewarding to witness. I'm so glad I got to be there with her to cheer her on. It's moments like these that remind me how lucky I am to have her" Luke responded confidently.

The reporters questions continued as he began asking more specific questions about your relationship and how things were between you two now.

You smiled when you heard him say 'my beautiful girlfriend', 'lucky I am' and 'her dedication'. You couldn't help but feel extremely loved when he spoke like that about you. He was so genuine, and it showed through everything he did and said.

"One final question Luke. We saw that your parents were there to help you cheer Y/n on from the stands. What did they think about Y/n's win?" The reporter then asked him.

"My parents were ecstatic. They had such an awesome time watching her compete. Mom couldn't stop telling me how incredibly happy she was, and dad said it was absolutely perfect. They know how much effort Y/n puts into skating, and they were able to experience that firsthand. That night was a special one, and they told me how lucky I am to have found someone like Y/n and be able to share moments like that with them. That will definitely be a night I'll never forget." Luke stated happily.

Once the interview concluded, you watched the footage with a huge smile on your face. You were feeling rather giddy inside as you remembered that evening, especially when Luke had placed his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, whispering something in your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat when he mentioned how lucky he was to have found someone like you, and how special it was to share moments like that with you. You loved hearing how affectionate he was with you, knowing full well that not many men actually showed that kind of emotion towards their girlfriends or wives.

It made you fall deeper and deeper in love with him each day, despite the fact that you were already head over heels for him. It made your feelings grow stronger, making you want to spend every waking moment with him and wake up next to him each morning.

TAGLIST

@lovelynikol16

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, pls leave a comment <3

[i-yap]

Can I request a Platonic Yandere Batfamily x female reader. I wanted to to read some thing because it was my birthday 5 days ago.

Batfamily is known for being manipulative and sneaky. Y/N an adult (18)living in Gotham,and have lived there since child hood. Your life is good well and even became a professional figure skater,until you meet them.

Summary: Reader is a professional figure skater. The batfamily goes to the skating rink to see one of Bruce's friend practice skating,that's until they first meet reader. The batfamily and reader are introduced by Bruce's friend. Ever since then they couldn't get reader out of their heads,they even went as far as stalking and kidnapping reader and bringing them back to the mansion.

Happy belated birthday!! Ive never written yandere...or the whole batfam x y/n so I'm sorry if this doesn't meet your expectations.

warning- yandere , stalking, pain, torture, just plain old yandere stuff okay? manipulation mind games , cold, hunger

there is mention of cas, steph, duke..idk them that well yet

Yandere Batfam x reader (PLATONIC ONLY)

Woosh , there you go, as graceful as a swan . A warm beauty on a sheet of white. In this cold cold city , you were like a ray of sun, the pride of this city. Ever since Bruce had brought you home for a private dinner to further discuss his generous funding to the sports facilities in public schools where you volunteered to teach underprivileged kids for free, the family hadn’t been able to pull their eyes away from you.

 On the rink and outside it. Be it your home, your training centre or you grocery shopping. You were used to eyes on you. After all you were the star of the city! And in a city that only ever produces cynical, evil and cruelty …maybe it was foolish to assume you would shine so bright forever.

It was Dick who suggested bringing you in. He found tim’s cameras that were strategically placed..well everywhere, and then Damian’s stash of drawings of an ice princess that strikingly resembled you and finally when Jason beat up the reporter that criticized your latest performance.

Bruce regretted not making sure to hide you better, but after the cards life had dealt his family, they all deserved to have this one good thing in their life. After everything they have given this city, this world, why cant they have just this one gift as repayment.

After all, its not like they want to hurt you right? At least not until you misbehave that is. They want to protect you. This city turns the brightest star the dust, good people cant survive here. It was best they take you before you hardened or broke. But even as they patiently explained all that to you, you refused to cooperate . So stubborn, so strong, on and off the ice. No wonder the family was so drawn to you!

Even as they brought you an entire ice rink to put shows that you missed so much, you continued to complain. Well maybe a couple days without food would help? Don’t worry Tim got soft and brought you your favorite snacks. Hm..still not cooperating. Maybe a couple days sleeping on the ice will help, you do love spending all your time there. Don’t worry, Jason came to cuddle you.

When Alfred was not allowed to interact with you, that’s when you finally broke. With no one else to give you company, the lonliness got to you. Suddenly the Cheery sunshiney dick Grayson seemed much more funny and lovely to be around. And Bruce acted like the father you never had.

 All these years you trained so hard for attention you never got as a kid, and now you had it ! at least that’s what tim told you..and why would he lie? He always looked out for you, helped clean your wounds when you were punished. And Jason! Why would he want to hurt you ? after everything that has happened to him, would he really hurt someone else? Someone as nice as dick could never be cruel and Damian? You mean your little baby? The kid who called you Ummi and drew you pretty paintings? No you must have lost your mind. This was your true family and its good you finally realized that!

( I COULD FINALLY PUT IN ALL MY TAGS MUAHAHAHHA)

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

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

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

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

check out the post-script drabble here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

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

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

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

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

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

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

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

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

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who are you to resist?

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

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

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

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

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

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

God. 

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

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

Sighing, you pick up. 

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

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

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

“To do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about food?”

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

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

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

Who else could it be?

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

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

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

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

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

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

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

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

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

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

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

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a knock on your door. 

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

And then, you hear,

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

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

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

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

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

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He dashes down the hallway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

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

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

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

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

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

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about a dress?”

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

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

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[junhuiste]

twice twice baby (preview)

pairing: jake x gn reader x sunghoon

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, slight angst, college!au, hockey player!jake, ice skater!sunghoon, sports med assistant!reader, slowburn, mutual pining, cursing, slightly suggestive scenes

a/n: this is just a preview of the bigger piece i plan to publish much later, so it pretty much only has jake, sorry hoonists! also gonna address it here while we’re at it, but i wanna apologize to everyone who sent requests in! i have them all plotted, most drafted and written, but i didn’t realize when i moved back home how busy i would be with work, summer classes, and looking for an apartment! i will have them published before the end of summer though! this piece is coming out before only because i wrote it well before finals week lol

taglist: please let me know if you wanna be part of the taglist!

Being in a parallelogram (or was it a dodecagon? A triangle? whatever) with the two notorious ‘Ice Hotties’ at your college, Jake Sim, the captain of the hockey team, and Park Sunghoon, the world class figure skater, is easy. Geometry isn’t that complicated...right?

As you entered into the arena, a cold blast of air struck, prompting you to jump slightly in your tracks, cursing that it was men’s hockey season and not basketball anymore. Albeit arms shivering, knees wobbling, and barely being able to make any strides at all, you weren’t distraught and to some extent trembling because of the ice rink or the ice packs inside the pouch seemingly glued to your waist, or hell, even the unnecessary air conditioner giving its all. Really, did they need to keep that fucking thing on when it was already polar-arctic-adjacent inside the arena? Probably to keep the rink from oozing into water and having Atlantis actually come to fruition...whatever, fuck the cold!

“Y/N, let’s get on it. We’re a bit late.” The head athletic trainer indicated, speed-walking a little too quickly for your liking, but what were you to do when your chest was heaving upon arrival at the ice center? Suck it up? Collapse and crawl into a ball?

Nodding, even though she was practically scurrying and leaving your curtailing ass in the dust, you heightened your pace despite the fact that your legs were about to give out at any second. Weren’t cold spaces supposed to make a solid more rigid, not turn your legs to jelly?

The both of you finally reached the area where the players were situated to greet the head and assistant hockey coaches.

“This is Y/N,” your trainer (whom insisted you just skip the formalities and call her Mina) motioned to you, slightly yet noticeably panting, “a first year, but they’ve done men’s basketball, women’s soccer and some gymnastics last semester. They know their stuff!”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” The head coach reaches out to grip your hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet y—“ once more today you jump, this time not shaken by the frozen tundra or by the vehemently boisterous buzzer, though it was much more thundering than the buzzer at the basketball court for some reason, but by the announcers cheering, “first year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim!”

And the crowd? They didn’t just go wild, no, they were literally cacophonous, the ground beneath and the arena stands rumbling, practically rivaling the San Andreas fault. Craning your neck to look around the oval shaped space and just how many students from your school, clad in university regalia, were present to see guys battle it out with plastic sticks on frozen water, even that, the entire scene wasn’t what had your heart nearly palpitating out of your chest.

First year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim. Now that was enough to warrant a blood pressure monitor...and possibly a defibrillator.

Almost giving yourself whiplash from turning around too quickly, it was hard not to gape at the boy coasting across the ice, waving at the all too excited crowd. And even through his helmet and from across the rink, you could make out his dark, glimmering irises, like how the sun’s edges would peak through from behind during an eclipse. It was kind of charmingly sickening actually, that someone could be as radiant as he was, under all the bulky gear, even despite the temperature. It wasn’t convenient actually that it had to be men’s hockey this time, that you, as the athletic trainer’s sports medicine intern had to attend the games for. Yeah, it was for credits. Sure, it was for intern experience...but what was the point if you only expected to make a fool out of yourself trying to tend to Jake and his teammates’ possible injuries?

It wasn’t fair, actually, that you were hopelessly in like with Jake Sim and that he didn’t even know your name when you were in the same physics class. To be fair though, it was a class of about 400, an infamous weeder course that crushed the poor souls of innocent underclassmen, so to have him direct any sort of attention your way, even a mere glimpse, would be laughable. That was what happened when you sat in the back, though.

Of course it just had to be Jake Sim that completely bewitched you, and he didn’t have to twirl any fingers or fixate any potions to have you just so damn spellbound. All he had to do was show up to freshman orientation with that stupid inviting grin of his, and that dumb glint in his eye that no one else seemed to possess. No, of course he just had to show up and be almost too cordial to everyone in your orientation group, even though all the other students, including you, could not give a single damn about the campus tour. And yes, of course, he just had to have the masses absolutely enamored with him, both upper and underclassmen alike.

Consider all of that, with Jake’s insane schedule, not that you knew anything specific, just that he had games on Tuesdays and Thursdays, coupled with daily practices, but you were only privy to that information because Mina always gave you the athletic teams’ agendas for the month. So yes, trying to garner any attention from Jake was like floating right smack in the middle of the Pacific, sending some sort of signal through a marine radio, and getting no response back. Not a hint that anyone was coming. No helicopters whirring above, no boats sent out ashore. What would he want to do with the first-aid kid, the person that sat in the back, the person that was paying attention to something else at the moment, and not the fact that they had to observe players carefully for potential injuries?

Well, sorry to Jake’s teammates and Mina, but you just couldn’t pry your eyes off of number three. How he skated in such an agile manner while simultaneously defending assertively was certainly an image now seared into your mind. The way he commanded the court was just so—“You paying attention? Are you okay today?” Mina snapped you out of your nonsensical trance.

“Yeah, yeah of course! Always on my toes like you said...” your eyes told a different story, and deceived you at that.

“And there’s number three, Sim, with the first goal!”

Jake skated backwards to high five his teammates and to prepare to defend, and it was definitely a sight to see him so animated, feeling right where he should be in his domain.

“Ah, I see. Number three is it? I heard he’s a beast on the ice,” Mina nudged and winked slyly at you, “anyway, pay attention ‘cause if your little ice boy gets hurt you know we gotta move quickly.”

It was already enough to have your friends taunt you about your silly adolescent infatuation with Jake, now to have your mentor in on it too? Mina was right though, you were here to wrap ankles and tend to bruised hips, not ogle at the team captain.

“Gotcha. On my toes!” you winked back at her, semi-ready to do your job. If you could predict injuries before they even happened during the basketball and soccer games you should be more than capable of caring for the hockey players. Whipping your head around to finally and legitimately focus on the members, you really wished you hadn’t.

There he was, number three, adept and dodging the defensive players, with the puck sliding in tandem with his stick. Then, it happened all too quickly, in a tenth of a second, too much for everyone spectating to comprehend.

BAM.

Suddenly, Jake was on his back after he and the opposing player too combatively collided into each other. You blinked once and now he was supine on ice, clutching a leg to his chest. His teammates and the referees hastily surrounded him, but you could not watch anymore, you had to do what you were here for.

Running past both the coaches, lamenting what the hells and go go go! at Mina, you dashed to the edge of the rink, about to enter and slip on the ice, but stopped yourself, because you didn’t have skates on. Fuck. Mina and you always ran to the scene of the injury, and you’d only dealt with hardwood floors and grass fields, but never ice. There was no reason for you to just stand around though, as Jake was being lifted by the referees. As much as you wanted to glue your eyes to the catastrophe, you sprinted to the locker room to fetch the cooler.

“Everyone, move!” You shouted at the towering players standing in your way. Setting the cooler on the floor, you directed some of them to assemble a few of the chairs they were sitting on for a makeshift cot for Jake to rest his leg on. Nervously yet rapidly, you dug into your backpack for a splint, pre-wrap, and medical tape.

When you stood back up, Jake and the referees were at the rink’s entrance, with Mina extending her arms to steady him once he transitioned from ice to linoleum. And through all this he maintained the same tender-hearted curve on his face, beaming at Mina and thanking the referees.

One of Jake’s coaches and Mina propped Jake around their shoulders as he hopped on one foot to your nearby station. Assisting them in getting Jake to sit down, you were shaking slightly out of feverishness and hormones, even though it was the perfect temperature for snowfall, but forming a resistance to doing that was almost impossible.

Christ, you weren’t like this when Taehyun tore his ligament last semester at the basketball semi-finals, or when Yuna sprained her toe out on the field, yet it was due to that certain someone that you just could not find it within you to operate as you usually did. It was imperative that you got out of your own head; Jake was merely another athlete you had to tend to and someone you, quite frankly, had to get over, like now.

Once Jake was seated with his right leg propped up on the opposite chair, he took his helmet off and handed it to his coach standing guard next to him.

“Mina, you guys got this?” The coach hesitantly asked your trainer.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about, Coach Kim! We’ve seen worse than this; we’re good, right Y/N?”

You gave Coach Kim a measly thumbs up and he rushed to get back to the rest of the team to continue with the game, deliberating who would substitute in now that their best player was on the sidelines.

While Mina undid Jake’s skates and kneepads, you assessed him before you could get started, asking him what kind of pain he had in his leg, how much it hurt on a scale of 1-10, and if he could wiggle his toes.

Sharp and kind of aching, I think. 8.5-ish, actually maybe just 8. Toes wiggling.

“Um, okay. Good that your toes are still intact, which means you’re gonna be okay, but is there any other part of your body that hurts?” You tried not to sound like a complete buffoon, trying to enunciate your words properly like you did with several other injured athletes; Jake shouldn’t have been any different. He was, though.

“Yeah, I feel like there’s a bruise on the right side of my body somewhere,” he said, motioning to his abdomen.

“Okay...I’m gonna take your shoulder pads off and you have to take your jersey off so we can ice it, is that cool with you?” Your brain was bouncing off the walls at the mention of “take” and “off”. Come on, this wasn’t fucking NASA, although it might as well have been, as he was a universe and a half to you (in a melodramatic way of sorts).

“Yeah, yeah—for sure. Thanks.” Jake flashed an acknowledging smile, to which your cheeks heated up at. There was an injured boy in front of you—no time for shits and giggles and teenage elation.

As you aided Jake in removing his shoulder pads and jersey, he winced a bit, while trying to hide it at the same time. 

“Are you good? I’ll get some ice on that soon, I promise.” You gradually eased into your ‘medic’ mode, trying to expel as much of your nerves as humanly possible.

“Yeah I’m okay, just hurts a bit. Thanks again,” he could not stop giving you that demure yet brazen demeanor, and to be around a smiling Jake meant a tense you, regardless if your subconscious plan to initiate Nerves Exodus was kind of working.

When Mina stood up, all finished with undoing his skates and knee pads, she asked Jake to repeat what he stated about his pain earlier to you back to her. Before walking to where the coaches and other players were, she chaffed at you, with a mischievous lilt to her words, “you can handle it from here right? The star player’s in your hands.”

Audibly, you ‘mhmmed’ her, and when you were out of Jake’s sight, rolled your eyes, making sure she noticed that. You were glad though, that Mina was your trainer and not some old, stern fart like she had when she interned in your same position; it made for much more “effective” mentoring and communication, especially because she left you alone with the athletes, so you were able to think of what to do next for yourself, and if there were ever any mistakes—which there were none of to date—she would help you work through them.

Holy shit, Mina left. It was just you and Jake.

[poodlejoonas]

Dad!BC AU - before and after

Because I’m feeling so soft tonight, I wanna share my thoughts on the guys before and after they become dads. Everyone knows that kids change people, but sometimes the change is nice and wholesome. 

I blame Joel and his sentimental edgy ass for that post on Instagram earlier.

(Under the read-more for length)

As the first dad of the group, Joonas was terrified of what the change would bring for him and Kirsten. He knew he would make his mistakes and he dreaded the day they would come. He was afraid that he was too immature to be a father - he read the comments online about him as a punk, about his Danish girlfriend who could barely read the hate comments written about her, and about their baby and how so many people “wished the poor girl luck” in dealing with a childish father like him. On top of that, Kirsten’s parents were begging her to leave Finland and him so they could help raise Sohvi because they thought they could do a better job than him. He was motivated to become the best dad he could be to prove them all wrong, but also to give his daughter the best life she deserved. He admits to his mistakes in the early days of fatherhood - he knows he should have been kinder to Kirsten when she was struggling mentally as a new mom.

Years later, with their third child on the way, the first two are a little bit older and they adore the hell out of their dad. Sohvi loves music like him and unapologetically stands her ground on the things she believes in. Lukas is a cannonball of a personality who loves the ice and playing hockey as much as his cousin Enkka. And the youngest of the Porkos, Jakob (aka “Jaska”) grows up to enjoy the softer things in life - reading, baking, knitting, and cuddling on a lazy day. Even through his busy schedule, he makes time to make memories with each of them in a way that matters to them - jamming out with Sohvi, skating with Lukas, and reading bedtime stories to Jaska. They all take his punk attitude, the very thing that many people used to discount his abilities to raise one child, let alone three. His family is perfect, and he realizes now that he had nothing to fear when he held his daughter for the first time.

--

Joel had never given the thought of a family of his own much consideration. He was too busy being a rock star and conquering the world, and he was afraid of what the change after having a kid would look like for him. He wanted to be happy for Joonas when he told the group in Rotterdam that he was going to be a dad, but he was afraid of losing his best friend to an uncertain future. He grew to love his niece, after some time and a little bit of effort on his part, but he still thought they just weren’t for him.

When he went out on a blind date with Emilia Peltonen months later, he wasn’t expecting it to go anywhere from there. But she gave him a second chance, and a third, and so on, until they were finally living together. Milli finally asked him what he thought of the idea of having kids, and he thought he needed “some time” to think on it. It took him all of about 12 hours to make up his mind, but they waited almost a full year before they were finally successful. In that time, he asked her to marry him, regardless of whether a baby would even come along. Still, he had his doubts about his own abilities to give his son a happy life - he was impatient and snappy, his mental health would fall apart some days, he was never the most affectionate person. And yet, none of that matters to little Viktor; Joel is his idol and, in his mind, he’s the coolest guy on Earth and he wants to be just like him someday. He teaches Enkka to skate and fosters his love for hockey and music. When Enkka needs a hug, either when he’s sleepy or he just woke up from a bad dream, he knows his dad will be there to catch him. So many people love to see that he went from being a dark edgelord online with a pessimistic sense of humor, to being the best dad and husband of their group whose public presence is covered with the signs of his pride in his family. Joel’s transformation surprised so many people, but the change was a welcome sight.

--

(TW: mention of miscarriage)

Niko wanted to be a dad from the beginning. When he dated Jenna in high school, the hopeless romantic in him dreamed of their little family and the future they would build together. He was devastated when they went their separate ways, thanks to their very different paths in life. He gave up on his dream of their little ones, until they crossed paths again. He knew he would be a fool to give up his second chance. He was overjoyed to learn that Jenna was pregnant with their first child; unlike the first two dads, he had no fears in the back of his mind that he would be a good one. As soon as he stepped into his house, he turned off the rock star Niko the world sees, and became Leevi’s dad and Jenna’s husband with every ounce of his being.

They made a promise to each other: when Leevi says his first word, it’s time for baby number two. Blissfully unaware of his parents’ plan to give him a sibling, Leevi watched Rommi walk by and blurted out his first word: kissa! Within two months, they were expecting their daughter to round out their little family. Lahja Rose was born the next February, two weeks past her original due date. Her father was a little heartbroken - she was supposed to be born on his birthday, hence the name Lahja (“gift”). But he was happy to finally have his little Rose to pay tribute to his favorite film (even if people made their fair share of jokes about it). They hit their first real snag as a family when, between 6 and 11 months, Lahja lived with on/off inner ear infections. Her parents did everything they could to help relieve her pain, eventually opting for surgery to fix it. Niko was a wreck for the full five months, refusing to leave his family’s side and being more than willing to fight anyone who disrespected his decision to have privacy with his family. Niko helped Jenna through the painful process of losing what would have been their third child. They mourned, they healed, and they decided that they were at peace just having their two.

--

Olli wanted to be a dad, but he was terrified when he learned he had two on the way. Kaarina wanted to laugh at his adorkable response to the news - “count them again” - but she knew his fears were valid. She’d known this man since they were children, and his response to the news was typical of him as an anxious mess under his cool and seemingly collected personality. Her fears were the same; after all, she had no idea what changes were to come for her health. But both girls had a hold on his heart long before they were even born. Olli was willing to do anything to make Riina and the twins feel comfortable until their arrival a week before Christmas. The moment Elina was placed in his arms and he saw the way Elisabet fit in Riina’s, he wondered where those fears even belonged now.

Well... just a little more than three months later, when he was convinced he’d gotten his wife pregnant again, Olli was rightfully scared shitless. He loved his girls, but he couldn’t have three kids before the first two even celebrated their first birthday. Having narrowly dodged that nightmare, he took all the next steps to ensure that it never happened again. He was happy with his two, and so was Riina. The Matelas spend their summers at their beach home, the twins developing as much of a love for the ocean as him. They wear the best coordinated outfits - but not matching though, Olli and Riina want them to maintain their own personality outside of being twins. He’s more than happy to let them put a tiara on him and invite him to their “garden tea party” in their shared room. It was tough at first, but he soon became a master of carrying one in each arm while they felt tall and safe with him. But he can be a bit strict with them sometimes; he loves them, but he doesn’t want them to follow in his footsteps as a rock star. He knows it can be difficult and fun, but he doesn’t want his daughters to fall victim to the lifestyle. And yet, Elisabet was determined to forge her own path in music, while Elina took to the ice like Lukas and Enkka as a figure skater. There was no use in trying to stifle their dreams. Olli’s proud of his girls, and he’s always wanted them to be happy.

--

Tommi’s family came pre-started. He was introduced to Marja Oksanen, a single mom to a young son who escaped a dangerous relationship with the father of her child. She was afraid that learning about her son would drive him away, that he wouldn’t bother with a single mom if she couldn’t put their relationship first. But Tommi loved this woman already, and someday he was sure he would love her son. He had his reasons to be wary around the boy since he’d never had a father figure in his life (outside of his Uncle Niko for the year or so that Marja and Miikka lived with him and Jenna). He let Miikka accept him first, and he waited for his cue before he grew into his role as his step-dad.

He readily agreed when Marja asked him if he wanted a baby with her (or “another cub” to fit the bear theme they adopted for their family). Tommi would have been happy to have several cubs with her. But when her pregnancy with Anna left her on constant bed rest and their daughter was born a month earlier than she should have, he couldn’t put her through that stress again. Marja’s health mattered more than the thought of a large family. Besides, he was more than happy with “Baby Bear” (Miikka) and “Cub” (Anna), because despite the fact that Miikka was not his son by birth, he was his son by love. And he was willing to defend that from anyone who dares to insult their family dynamic. Tommi is a master of being a dad; his energy calms both kids down when they’re stressed or in need of some love and understanding. It’s not an uncommon sight to see him with one on either side of him as the three of them relax in his recliner. So many people know Tommi as a man with a tough exterior, who doesn’t let his emotions show, doesn’t talk much, and doesn’t garner much attention in a room. But Tommi with his children is a different person altogether. He shares a side of him that belongs to his family.

--

As the last to become a dad, Aleksi had a wealth of experience to rely on when he needed help with his son. He made the difficult decision to voluntarily become a single dad when his ex-girlfriend Laila expressed zero desire to become a mother. He endured so much stress and heartache in the process, from Laila dragging him in the media over his decision to announce the pregnancy to being banned from Noah’s birth altogether. He first laid eyes on Noah when he was just under an hour old, having only been held by the nurses who prepared him to meet his father. He spared no expense in spending two nights in the hospital with him in a suite, even when Laila had long checked out and left without saying goodbye to either of them.

He felt a twinge of shame when he accepted help from Joonas in taking care of his son. He wanted to do it by himself and prove that he could be a good dad alone. But having a village of friends behind him helped ease him into everything that fatherhood would throw at him. When Noah is diagnosed on the autism spectrum when he’s three, Aleksi immediately learns everything he can to understand his son better. He becomes his biggest defender when people try to push him out of his comfort zone, telling him that they can respect his decision to wear his noise-cancelling headphones when he needs them or they can leave both of them alone. He learns sign language to communicate with Noah whenever he goes mute and he shows solidarity when Noah stims in public. He stays out of the dating scene for years to stop a revolving door of strangers from coming around his son who is shy around new people and lives with separation anxiety from losing his mother at a young age. But Hanna Laaksonen was the perfect exception, as a child psychologist with a Master’s degree in early childhood development. The rest of his friends watched as Aleksi fell in love with her and as Noah began to call her Mom. Still, Aleksi always put Noah first, the same as he always had, and Hanna respected that fact.

[cherryblossomstars]

II. Navy (W. Ushijima)

Taken from my AO3 series of one-shots & reposted here

Pairing: Ushijima x F!Reader

Word count: 1,446

Genre: Fluff, birthday fic

Summary: Aoba Johsai's volleyball team has never been able to defeat the Great Ushiwaka of Shiratorizawa. Their manager, however? She can bring him to his knees in mere seconds.

Or, Ushijima Wakatoshi is helplessly in love with Seijoh's Ace's twin sister, and the Aoba Johsai VBC is not appreciative of it.

Previous | Next

It's no secret that Ushijima Wakatoshi is a baby when it comes to matters of love or any emotion that comes with showing affection. His movements on the court are lithe, careful, and precise. Mistakes rarely happen when he's playing his beloved sport, and errors will almost certainly never happen if he's at his peak concentration- then he's at a completely different and untouchable level. He has a degree of grace and beauty on the court that a professional figure skater would be jealous of (not to mention his incredible stamina).

And yet, when it comes to you, he may as well be an infant struggling to walk. It's messy, he's not sure what he's doing, and sometimes he gets hurt trying to figure it out. He knows you, that much he's sure about. You've both known each other for years now. So why, why is it so hard to figure out something to do for you on your birthday?

Around the holidays and on his birthday, he would always tell you not to get him something. He's not a big fan of presents. If he needed something, he'd simply ask his family and then in 1-2 business days, bam. The item in question would be at his front door. And yet, every time, you've still found a way to give him something meaningful.

In the three years he's known you, you've given him a scrapbook, a jar of reasons you love him, and, his most favorite gift of all, a volleyball with everyone's signatures on it. Not just his team's, but other teams as well. People from the Fukurodani, Johzenji, Nekoma, Itachiyama, hell, even Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. You'd somehow managed to coerce Oikawa into signing it. When he'd asked about Oikawa, you'd simply shrug and say "he owed me one". He decided not to press any further. While some people opted to simply write their name on the ball, others wrote little messages too. Iwaizumi Hajime had written a simple happy birthday, while Tendou had to be stopped by you from practically taking up the entire damn ball, a story told to him by his teammates later on. He even cracked a small chuckle imagining your small figure trying to restrain Tendou Satori of all people. He also learned that Oikawa likes to sign his name with a star next to his signature. Ushijima thought it was tacky, but it fit his personality well. Every year you didn't have a physical present for him, you'd take him out on a date or give him one of your homemade bentos.

He was not a fan of presents, but he's certainly grown to look forward to receiving yours.

Yet, every year, he struggles to figure out what to get you. In the past years, he'd given you something simple, but nice or something you just happened to need at the time. One year it was a phone, since Oikawa had accidentally broken yours that year. Ushijima had to visit Oikawa himself and convince him not to buy you a new phone, since Ushijima would be the one handling it. After some debate, Oikawa finally gave in. Another year he'd gotten you a simple silver band, one that you keep on your index finger. He rarely sees you go out without it on, something he's found very pleasing. It brings a sense of satisfaction to his mind when he sees it on you.

Perhaps it was the weather, he rationalized, that was getting in the way of his ideas. Or maybe it was the fact that he had another practice match coming up soon, so he was also coming up with game plans in the back of his mind. He needed to focus. Ushijima was normally ahead of things when it came to plans with you, but he's been so busy with volleyball these past few weeks that he hasn't been able to buy you your gift yet. And now it was six in the evening on a Friday, and he still wasn't sure what to get you for your birthday tomorrow.

He grumbled under his breath, he'd just have to swallow his pride and ask for help. He took out his phone and called the first person he could think of- Tendou. You two were good friends, after all.

"Helloooo? What's up Wakatoshi?" Tendou sang.

"[Name]." He said.

"You're gonna have to give me more context than that." His friend pointed out.

"We're celebrating her birthday tomorrow and I'm unsure of what to get her."

"Something sweet. She's got a pretty awful sweet tooth after all."

"I want something she can keep. Something that will last."

"Oh wow. What a doting boyfriend. Hmm... Well I don't think she needs anything right now... Oh! Why don't you just give that ace from Seijoh a call?"

"...I do not have his number."

"I'll text it to you. Later." And with that, the line went dead.

Damn. He had to ignore his pride just to call Tendou, but Iwaizumi? That was a different level. He'd do it, though, because it's for you.

Ding!

Tendou: It's +81-XXX-XXXX-XXX

Tendou: good luck~ (*´ I `)ﾉﾟ(ﾉД｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Ushijima: Thank you.

Should he call or text? Maybe texting would be the better option. You never answered any unknown numbers, who's to say your twin wasn't the same way? He gave your brother a contact before sending a text.

Ushijima: Hello, Iwaizumi. It's Ushijima. Do you have any good gift ideas for [Name]?

Iwaizumi: dude how'd you get my number?

Ushijima: Tendou had it.

Iwaizumi: cool. follow up question: why does he have it?

Iwaizumi: nevermind. not sure I wanna know.

Ushijima couldn't help but think about how you and your brother text the same way.

Iwaizumi: dunno. she likes meaningful gifts i guess. maybe an album? or a scr:"//ad39E

He furrowed his brows in confusion. A what?

Iwaizumi: sorry. oikawa made a grab for my phone. i was gonna say maybe a scrapbook.

Ushijima: I don't know how to make those.

Iwaizumi: painting?

Ushijima: I am bad at art. What are other people getting her?

Iwaizumi: im getting her a new video game for her switch. oikawa's getting her concert tickets to that band she likes so much. yahaba and kyoutani pooled their money together and got her a bunch of new clothes. kunimi's giving her $20. the rest of team pooled their money together and got her a new tablet. i know the players from fukurodani, karasuno, johzenji, nekoma, itachiyama, and inarizaki got her stuff but i dont know what.

Iwaizumi: wait actually those twins from inarizaki got her a stuffed animal and a box of cookies from a bakery she likes

Yahaba and Kyoutani got her clothes... A lightbulb lights up in his mind.

Ushijima: Thank you. I know what to give her.

Iwaizumi: yea no problem

Ushijima went to the shopping district for no reason, then. He went back to his dorm, stepping inside and immediately opening his closet.

"Figured something out?" Tendou greeted from his bunk.

"Yes." He responded, taking one of his sweaters off from a hanger and holding it out in front of him.

Tendou raises his eyebrows in shock, "she's gonna be swimming in that."

"Yes, but she likes to take my volleyball jacket all the time. She says it smells like me, so I may as well give her this one since she can't keep the volleyball jacket." Ushijima holds in front of him a large maroon sweater with the word Shiratorizawa printed in white on it. It was bought to fit him and all his 189 centimeter glory.

"She'll love it."

"Why are you giving this back to me? I gave it to you." Ushijima tilts his head slightly.

You stood in front of him holding out the sweater he had given you for your birthday a few weeks ago, neatly folded in your hands. You felt your face grow hot in embarrassment. "It... Doesn't smell like you anymore. There's no point if it doesn't feel like I'm close to you."

He's quiet for a moment before taking the sweater from your hands. "So you are returning it?"

You can't look at him in the eye, "for now. I want it back, of course. Just... wash it or something with whatever laundry soap you use and give it back so it smells like you."

He smiles softly at you and presses a light kiss to your forehead. He doesn't look like someone who could be soft. His sheer strength on the court and his powerful spikes on the court can attest to that, but he can't help it when it came to you.

"I love you."

Fin.

[teenslib]

IT’S FINALLY DONE! Every year, the Rainbow Book List Committee has more books to review, because literature is slowing getting queerer, and children’s and YA lit are at the forefront of that change. This year, our committee of 13 people had to review nearly 500 eligible titles, and 130 (well, 129) were good enough and queer enough to make the list. There were so many terrific books that we got a special dispensation to create TWO Top Ten lists--the first time the committee has done so! The Top Tens are below, and please visit the link above for the full list.

I’m proud of our committee’s focus on diversity--along lines of race, ethnicity, queer identity, and even genre. At least half of the Top Ten Books for Young Readers and seven of the Top Ten for Teen Readers are about characters of color, and most of those were written by authors of color. We also tried to feature as many different letters of the alphabet soup as possible. I’ve noted the racial and LGBTQIA+ rep for the books that I’ve read.

Here are the Top Ten Books for Young Readers:

Ana on the Edge by Sass, A.J. Ages 8 to 12. Sports Fiction/Figure Skating. MC is nonbinary and Jewish-Chinese-American. Ana is a champion figure-skater. She hates her new princess-themed program, but how can she tell her mother that, when it cost so much money? And why does it bother her so much, anyway? When she finds the word ‘nonbinary,’ she realizes why the program doesn’t fit, but she still has a lot of work to do repairing relationships that have suffered in the meantime.

The Deep & Dark Blue by Smith, Niki. Ages 8 to 12. Fantasy. One of 2 MCs is a trans girl, all characters appear to be Southeast Asian. A pair of twins flee after a political coup that puts their lives at risk. They decide to disguise themselves as Hanna and Grayce, two girls living in the Communion of the Blue, an order of weaving women who spin magic like wool. What one twin doesn’t know is that, for the other, being Grayce isn’t a disguise. This is a beautiful story about self-discovery, acceptance, and affirmation.

Drawing on Walls: A Story of Keith Haring by Burgess, Matthew and Josh Cochran (Illustrator). Ages 6 to 14. Biography. MC is a white gay man. This colorful picture-book biography traces the life and art of Keith Haring.

The Every Body Book: LGBTQ+ Inclusive Guide for Kids about Sex, Gender, Bodies, and Families by Simon, Rachel E. and Noah Grigni (Illustrator). Ages 8 to 12. Nonfiction/Health. Various identities and races included. Filled with self-affirming information, The Every Body Book uses inclusive language, illustrations, and facts to cover a number of important topics for young people including consent, relationships, gender, sex, puberty, and hormones.

King and the Dragonflies by Callender, Kacen. Ages 8 to 12. Realistic Fiction. MC is a gay black boy, his best friend is a gay white boy. King’s family–especially his father–have strong opinions about what it means to be a Black man, and they don’t allow for being gay. But King admires his friend Sandy for escaping an abusive home and living his truth no matter what. If King comes out, too, can his father learn to change?

Magic Fish by Nguyen, Trung Le. Ages 12 and up. Realistic Fiction/Fantasy. MC is a gay Vietnamese-American boy. A young Vietnamese-American boy literally can’t find the words to tell his parents that he’s gay, but cross-cultural fairytales help bridge the language barrier in this beautifully-illustrated graphic novel. 

My Maddy by Pitman, Gayle E. and Violet Tobacco (Illustrator). Ages 4-8. Realistic Fiction. MC’s parent is nonbinary, MC and her parent are white. My Maddy is a heartwarming story about a young girl and her parent. Readers learn that not all parents are boys or girls; some parents are just themselves. In this young girl’s case, that parent is her Maddy, a loving, caring parent who lives outside the gender binary.

My Rainbow by Neal, DeShanna, Trinity Neal, and Art Twink (Illustrator). Ages 4-8. Realistic Fiction. MC is an autistic black trans girl. Autistic trans girl Trinity wants to have long hair, but growing it out is too itchy! None of the wigs in the store are quite right, so Mom makes Trinity a special rainbow wig.

Our Subway Baby by Mercurio, Peter and Leo Espinosa (Illustrator). Ages 4 to 8. Adoption Non-fiction. MCs are white gay men, the baby they adopt is Black. Loving illustrations help tell the story of how an infant abandoned in a NYC subway station was adopted by the man who found him and his partner.

Snapdragon by Leyh, Kat. Snapdragon. Ages 10 to 14. Fantasy. Haven’t read this one yet, so I can’t comment on its representation. Snap gets to know the town witch and discovers that she may in fact have real magic and a secret connection to Snap’s family’s past.

And here are the Top Ten Books for Teen Readers:

All Boys Aren’t Blue: A Memoir-Manifesto by Johnson, George M. Ages 14 to 18. Memoir. Author/MC is a gay Black man. “Memoir-manifesto” is a well-chosen label for this book, which relates stories from the author’s childhood and young adulthood and contextualizes them within a queer Black experience. Although the author’s family is loving and supportive, pervasive heteronormativity, queerphobia, and anti-Black racism threaten his mental, emotional, and physical safety.

Camp by Rosen, L.C. Ages 14 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC and his love interest are gay Jewish boys. For Randy, going away to Camp Outland is a breath of fresh air, a time to be exactly who Randy can’t always be at school. But this year will be different. This year, Randy won’t be the flamboyant theater kid, this year Randy will be exactly the type of bro Hudson would want to date. Changing a thing or too will be necessary for Randy to succeed, even if that means leaving some friends behind.

Cemetery Boys by Thomas, Aiden. Ages 13 and up. Paranormal/Romance. MC is a trans Latino, his love interest is a gay Latino. Yadriel accidentally summons the wrong ghost in an attempt to prove himself a real brujo to his family who struggle to accept his gender identity. Though he thinks he is summoning the ghost of his cousin, he actually summons the ghost of Julian Diaz, and finds himself with not one, but two, mysterious deaths to investigate.

Circus Rose by Cornwell, Betsy. Ages 12 and up. Fantasy. One MC is white and one is mixed-race, one is a lesbian and one is questioning. Ivory and Rosie are twins and half-sisters, born to a bearded woman who refused to choose between her lovers, and raised in their mother’s circus. After a long foreign tour, they come home to find themselves under attack by religious zealots. As tragedy follows tragedy, will Ivory be able to save her circus family?

Elatsoe by Little Badger, Darcie  and Rovina Cai (Illustrator). Ages 12 and up. Mystery. MC is an aro/ace Lipan Apache girl. In this OwnVoices novel, Elatsoe is on a mission to discover who killed her beloved cousin, and why. If not for her cousin, then she is doing this for her people, the Indigenous Lipan Apache tribe. Elatsoe has the ability to raise ghosts from the dead, a tradition that has been passed down through generations. On this journey it will take vulnerability, wit, and the legends of her people for Elatsoe to understand all that is hidden in the small town of Willowbee.

I’ll Be the One by Lee, Lyla. Ages 13 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC is a bi Korean-American girl, her love interest is a bi Korean boy. Skye Shin dreams of becoming the world’s first plus-sized K-pop star, and a reality TV competition may just be her chance. To win, she’ll have to deal with fatphobic beauty standards, fierce competition, and intense media scrutiny–as well as unexpected attraction to one of her competitors.

Miss Meteor by Mejia, Tehlor Kay and Anna-Marie McLemore. Ages 14 and up. Magical Realism. (I haven’t read this one, but I think both MCs are WLW Latinas.) Lita is a star – literally. After falling to earth several years ago, she’s now living life as a teenage girl. When the annual Miss Meteor pageant rolls around, Lita decides to enter – but will her ex-best friend Chicky be willing to help her? Will the pageant help her forget about the past and imagine a new future? Lita learns that winning isn’t about being perfect, it’s about showing your true self to the world – even the parts that no one else understands.

You Should See Me in a Crown by Johnson, Leah. Ages 12 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC is a black WLW (woman-loving-woman). In this affectionate rom-com, Liz Lighty finds herself an unlikely candidate for prom queen at her affluent suburban school. Shy, awkward, Black, and low-income, Liz has never felt like she belonged, and she can’t wait to leave for her dream college. But when her scholarship falls through, it seems her last resort is to win prom queen, and the scholarship money that comes with it. Liz’s plan is complicated when new girl Mack decides to run for prom queen also…and ends up running away with Liz’s heart.

War Girls by Onyebuchi, Tochi.  Ages 12 and up. Science Fiction/Afro-Futurism. Both MCs are Nigerian, one is a WLW. In a not-so-distant future, climate change and nuclear disasters have made much of the earth unlivable. In the midst of war in Nigeria, two sisters, Onyii and Ify, are torn apart and face two very different futures. As their lives progress through years of untold violence and political unrest, battles with deadly mechs and cyborg soldiers outfitted with artificial limbs and organs, they are brought together again and again and must come to terms with how the war has impacted their lives.

When We Were Magic by Gailey, Sarah. Ages 14 and up. Contemporary Fantasy. MC is a white bi/questioning girl with gay dads, her friends are racially, ethnically, and queerily diverse. This firecracker of a novel follows a group of friends who attempt to correct the accidental murder of a classmate. When We Were Magic combines magic, friendship, and awkward moments to create a captivating story. Each character brings their own uniqueness to the strong group of friends, but despite their differences, their loyalty remains. Author Sarah Gailey has written another page turning novel, with the quirky strange content to boot.

[gay-salt-amber]

The phone call

Here's some notices or warnings before reading!

A trans man giving birth, Seungchuchu, Trans Phichit, Haikyuu x Yuri on Ice.

Seung-gil pov-

I entered the rink, sat down my bag and took a sip out of my thermos of coffee, "Hi coach." I greeted, tired and already done with my coach for the day.

"Greetings Seung-gil, sit down we need to figure out your skating routine for the next competition."

I nodded at my coach and sat down. I sat there, listening to my coach's instructions.. Well I wasn't really listening, I couldn't bring myself to focus... Phichit, my husband, had been really sick recently. I knew that he knew why but he wouldn't tell me, while some secrets were fine, it just felt to serious to be kept a secret. But if he wants to keep that stuff to himself, then I have no wish to pry into his business.

My coach, Min-so Park, must have noticed. She gave me a light flick on the ear and raised her voice by a inch, "Pay attention." She said.

I had to restraint myself from saying something else other then sorry, "Sorry, stuff has been happening at home."

"Don't carry that onto the ice, Seung-gil."

"..Sorry.." I said, trying to sound like I was actually sorry which I wasn't.

"Alright, now how about we do this song?" She said pointing to a list of songs she had written down.

"Sure, when are we going to figure out outfits though?"

"Probably tomorrow, we need to make sure this song is good for you before we figure out costumes."

She put the list down and walked over to the music-playing setup, "Lets start practice, Seung-gil."

I nodded as I re-tied my skates and went onto the ice, ready for a tiring day of practice. I just hope Phichit is doing alright.. I'm worried, so fucking worried.

Phichit pov-

I flushed the toilet, washed the disgusting taste out of my mouth out and exited the bathroom, I took my time walking down the stairs, holding onto the handle for dear life even though my feet were fine. I still don't wanna fall. Eventually after what felt like a lifetime, I made it to the couch where I flopped and grabbed my phone. As I massaged my headache, I hit Yuuri's contact, his nickname in my phone being 'bestie' I let out a silent swear as a sting of pain came but I hit the 'call' button and sucked up the pain.

Thankfully he picked up, even though he is at practice

"Hey Phichit, did you need something?"

I let out a small fake sob, "I feel like shit.."

"Oh, is Seung-gil with you?"

"No, he wanted to stay home but his coach made him come in.."

I could tell the Japanese skater was rolling his eyes, "Have I told you how much I hate his coach?"

"Yep."

After snickering I went back to the original topic, "But I wanted to ask you what you think I've come down with. Its been a week! I have never been sick for more then 2 days and I am scared!"

Yuuri clicked his tongue, "Ok.. Tell me more, I think I have an idea.."

"Well, I have been puking a lot.."

"That happens when you're sick typically.." Now that I think about it, yeah I do puke a bunch when I rarely get sick.

"Yeah.. And you know how I hate pickles?"

"Yes?"

"I now wanna dip those in chocolate and have it for breakfast."

"Any body pain?"

"Well my stomach and hurt like a bitch and my back wants to break."

"...." Yuuri went silent.

"Uh, Yuuri? Bestie? What's wrong?"

"Don't think I'm weird for saying this alright?"

"We've been friends for like 19 years, nothing you say will make me weirded out."

"You never got a bottom surgery when you transitioned right?"

"No, I still wanted kids so I never got much done, you know, minus getting my breasts removed."

"So, I think you should go get a pregnancy test.."

My eyes went wide, "Wha?! Why?!"

"I just think that you have a lot of the symptoms that pregnant people have. I may be wrong but its better now then later, right?"

I went quiet before speaking again, "...What will Seung-gil think?"

Yuuri went out a little chuckle, "Well, if he's as good a husband as you say, he'll stay there and help you."

I chuckled along, "Yeah.. I'll talk to you later."

When I hit the end call button, I threw my phone to the other side of a coach. Upon hearing that, Seung-gil's Siberian Husky came running over and hopped on the couch to try and make me feel better by rubbing his head against my hand.

I smiled bright "Hi buddy.."

"You may be getting a human friend in a few months if Yuuri was right.." I chuckled.

This made the dogs head perk up, his tail started wagging and he went out a bork of excitement.

"I know! so exciting!" I gave him head scratches before walking to the door and grabbing my keys

I turned back to Snow, "Dads gonna go out for a bit, don't cause too much havoc while I'm gone, ok?"

After hearing another bark from the grey-white dog, I left the large apartment and started to walk down the hallway. Even when I was in the lobby and out the front door to my car, I couldn't stop opening and closing my husbands contact.. 'Save it until you actually know..' After taking a breath and by that I mean about 10 breathes, I put the keys in and drove to the store to get the test.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I unbuckled slowly and got my hat and my mask. I did everything slowly, I was just nervous.. I then thought of how lucky I would be to have a kid.. All the happy moments, seeing Seung-gil falling asleep with a baby atop his chest, and that babies adorable face.. With those ideas in my head I opened my car door and practically ran into the store.

Once I entered, I walked to the pharmacy section and after scanning the shelf like 4 times, my eyes finally landed on the pregnancy test, "Damn I must have been staring at it for like 2 minutes." I joked, I grabbed it and walked to the counter to pay, I walked back out to my car and went about 9 miles over the speed limit to get home.

Seung gil pov-

It was coming to be the middle of practice, which was when I was allowed a really quick water break before starting practice again.

"Ok Seung-gil! You can have a water break!" Coach shouted

I nodded and walked over to the bench, right when I was about to grab my water, I heard my phone ringing. When I checked the name.. It was my husband, Phichit.

"I told you to not have your phone out during practice!"

"My husbands really sick so I couldn't really NOT have it on or out." I retorted

"Just answer it."

I rolled my eyes and answered, "Hello?"

Phichit's voice on the other line was nervous, "Uh.. Hey Seung-gil.. Can you come home? Like right now?"

"Why? Are you ok?"

"We just need to talk."

"Now?" I repeated

"Yeah, sorry for interrupting your practice dear.." He sighed

"No, no! It's ok, I don't wanna be here anyway."

Phichit laughed which made my heart glow, "Alright, see you soon."

"See you soon." And with that I ended the call, grabbed my stuff and walked to the exit.

"SEUNG GIL LEE WHERE THE WORLD ARE YOU GOING?! YOU STILL HAVE PRACTICE!" My coach yelled from the rink,

My voice went back to being cold instead of sweet like when I was on the phone, "Home."

The brown haired woman started running in my direction, "Oh hell no!" But by the time she said that the door was open and I was walking to my car and quickly on the road.

--When he got home--

Once I opened the door I hear the muffled tv in the background, I kicked off my shoes at the door gave the dog some love and went to sit on the couch next to my husband.

"Welcome home.." The Thai's boy was quiet.

"So what did you wanna talk about dear? You never call me back from practice...."

"Uh.. You know how I said I was trans? How I was born a girl not a male?"

"Yes?"

Phichit stood up and walked in the direction of the bedroom, "Its best I show you, wait here.."

I nodded and waited. he came back a minute later, holding a something that looked familiar to me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Once he sat down he handed the long stick to me,

"Guess what.. You're a dad.." His voice was nervous

I looked at the pregnancy test.

Then back to him.

"I get it if you are mad if I didn't tell you sooner that this could happen but, I have always wanted to start a family with you so, please, help me parent our child."

I couldn't even speak, I just wrapped my arms tightly around Phichit, "There is no universe where I would pass up to take care of a child with you." I breathed before continuing to speak, "I love you so much. We are going to have a happy family here, ok? I will do whatever I can to support our family."

When I finally looked up at my husband, tears were streaming down his face, I panicked, "Why are you crying?! Did I say something?!"

He laughed, wiping his small tears away, "No, you're just fine. I'm just.. happy."

I gave him a kiss on the forehead, "Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering pizza."

"Can you get me pineapple pizza..?"

I let out a snort, "Sure."

--After ordering pizza--

Once we sat down, we happily ate, I smiled as I watched Phichit devour his pizza and his cute little face have pizza sauce get dotted on the cheeks and his chin. After he chewed he started to speak

"Hey I have a question about your coach."

I put down my pizza and looked at the cute boy, "What of her?"

"Well, I think you either need to talk to her, or get a new coach."

"I mean I would love to, but why?" I asked

"She never lets you have any holidays off or anything, no special days, no calling in before hand, no calling in sick, nothing! The only way you get out of practice is just walking out. I feel like when the kid is born, that wont be an option anymore."

I nodded my head, taking a bite from my pizza, "Yeah, you're right. I wanted to find a new coach anyway, I just needed a reason."

Phichit chuckled before gasping, "Hold on! I need to go call some people!"

I rubbed my forehead, giving a small smile, "Who are you calling?"

"Y'know, Guang-Hong, Leo and Yuuri! Imma tell them they're uncles now!"

"Alright! Don't take too long!"

A few minutes later I could hear excited gasps and congratulations coming from the kitchen

---A few months later--

Phichit pov-

I was on the phone panicking, Seung-gil couldn't be here, his coach wouldn't let him leave no matter how hard he tried so I was on the phone with Yuuri.

"Stay calm till I get there! I'll get you to the hospital Phichit."

"It fucking hurts!"

"I know just hold on!"

A few minutes later of trying to talk to keep the pain away, the door swung open with Yuuri behind it, he came over, helped me up and we got into the car.

"You're going to be a dad.. Mom? What do you wanna be called anyway?" Yuuri asked

"Whatever the child prefers."

"Do you know the gender yet?"

"No we decided to wait till he's born, which I guess is soon!" I was excited but also nervous.

"..Seung-gil will find a way to get to the hospital to see you, even if he has to jump out a window or something."

I snorted, "Victor did that didn't he?"

"I mean, yeah~"

We finally made it to the hospital and after circling the parking spot a few times, we got out and walked through the entrance.

"When I come out my life's gonna be so different.."

"Mhm! But that's a good thing!" Yuuri reminded me

"Yeah."

--About 15 minutes later--

Seung gil pov-

Once I finally got away from my coach by jumping out the window of the boys locker room and was able to maneuver my ass through the rush hour traffic, I arrived at the hospital. When I entered I instantly spotted Yuuri Katsuki, my husbands best friend and ran over to him.

"How is he?!"

"Thank god you're here."

I sat down and panted, "Yeah, my coach forced me to stay at practice, I had to crawl out through a window."

"Knew it."

"Anyway, is Phichit doing ok?"

Yuuri nodded, "Yes, they have him back there now."

"Can I not go in?"

"Ok."

I started tapping my foot from nervousness I didn't notice Yuuri get up but when I did he was holding coffee in his hand, "Here. They had a coffee cart over there, I figured you would want something to drink."

I took it from his hand, "Thanks."

"So what are you hoping for?"

"Heh, Phichit was hoping for a boy and I would be dead if I said a girl." I laughed

"Do you have a name in mind?"

"Not really, we know we want to change his last name so he can live a normal life though."

"Any ideas for that?"

"We'll figure it out. Phichit is a spur of the moment person, y'know?"

"Oh I know that too well." Yuuri took a sip of his drink before speaking again

"So, you remember when I was watching your dog at my house?"

"Yes?"

"Our dogs cuddled."

My mouth went wide, "Do you have photos?!"

"Yep!"

about 4 hours later-

"Family and friends of Phichit Lee may come in now." The doctor called

I looked at Yuuri, "You go by yourself first Seung-Gil he wants to see you more then me."

I got up and walked to the room and sat on a chair next to the hospital bed,

"Say hello to your son!" Phichit said, a smile from ear to ear on his face.

"He's adorable." I said, reaching out my pointer finger, which the little boy grabbed and held onto with his tiny hands.

"Mhm."

The child blinked a bit, "He has your eyes." I pointed out

"Just as cute too." Phichit added

"Mhm."

"So, what are we thinking for names?"

"Uhh.. I was actually thinking about it in the car."

"Oh? What did you come up with?

"I was thinking of naming him Sakusa Kiyoomi."

"That sounds good."

"Do you want to hold him?"

"Sure."

I reached my hands out and Phichit handed me my son, "I'm really a father.."

"Mhm. I love you so much."

"I love you too dear," He reached out and booped Sakusa nose

"And I love you too, Sakusa."

-16 years later-

Sakusa pov-

I was texting Atsumu, my boyfriend about practice and such.

----

'Tsumu: Hey sweet, adorable love of my life ♥♥! I have a question

Omi: Please use normal pet-names

'Tsumu: Nah

Omi: 😶😑Yes, dear?

'Tsumu: When am I gonna meet your parents? 🤔

Omi: You can come over after practice, if you want.

'Tsumu: Woah! 😲 Really?!

Omi: Sure, I don't care.

'Tsumu: Wait, aren't you at practice too?

Omi: Yeah we're taking a water break

'Tsumu: Well, I'll leave you alone! Love you! See you later tonight Omi-Omi! 😍😘💗💓

Omi: See you then, 'Tsumu <3

----

When I turned off my phone I didn't realize my cousin, Kimori, was standing right over me reading my texts.

"So, hows the married life?

"CHRIST!" I yelped

I regained my composure as the rest of the team looked over, "Great, how are you and that snake boy?" I was referring to Suguru Daishou, who was the captain of the Nohebi Academy volleyball team.

Kimori let out a gasp of betrayal, "Rude!"

"Right.."

The coach called us back onto the court, I stood up and ran back to the court with my team.

--After practice--

I sat there at the train stations coffee shop and sipped on a thing of tea while working on my laptop. I wanted to finish up school work before 'Tsumu got here, after all. While I was typing away on a writing assignment, my phone buzzed, it was one of my dads, Phichit Lee. I finished typing the paragraph, I placed a period, picked up my phone and went to answer the message.

---

Pops: Hey Kiddo👋, me and your dad will be late coming home from practice. Stop by the rink ⛸⛸ if you need anything! ♥♥

Kiyoomi: Will do. Also I will be having my boyfriend over.

Pops: Oh! 😲 Me and your dad can stay out later if you need us to😁

Kiyoomi: No, he wanted to meet you and dad.

Pops: We'll try to get home early in that case!

Kiyoomi: Alright good luck with that pair skate practice

Pops: We're gonna need it 😗

--

After about 15 minutes I looked out of the store and saw that Tsumu's train was pulling in, I got in and waited closer to the train for him. Once he got out I called out for him.

"'Tsumu!" I called

When I did that he ran full speed at me and wrapped his hands around my neck, with my hands wrapping around his waist.

He started placing kisses on my cheeks, "Its been so long!"

I laughed, "Its been a week."

"Same difference!"

I gave a final smile before I grabbed the fake blondes hand and led him to my car.

"So, I'm meeting your parents today?"

I nodded, "They may be late home, but yes."

We got into the car and kept talking about what was going to happen tonight,

"I'm so nervous, y'know?"

"Heh, you don't need to be, don't worry."

I then remembered something, "Also my uncle is dropping by so you'll get to meet them."

"Oo! Cool!"

I plugged my aux cord and handed the phone to 'Tsumu, "Its your turn for music this weekend dear, please don't play The Bee Movie sound track the whole way home."

"Awh! You're lucky I love you Omi!"

He put on Shinedowns new album Amaryllis, so I was happy.

"Nice song choice."

Tsumu rested my hand on top of mine which was already resting on his thigh.

"Do you want me to stop and get coffee or something? Or do you wanna head straight to my place?"

"Meh I had coffee earlier, we can head to your place."

"Oh you haven't been to my place before have you? It's always me visiting you."

"Yeah! That just makes me more excited!"

I smiled.

"Wait.. I NEED TO ASK FOR YOUR BABY PHOTOS!"

"NO!"

We finally pulled into the garage of the apartment complex and exited the car. When we entered the lobby Atsumu spoke up, "This is a really nice looking place."

"Yeah my folks make good money so we have a good sized apartment." I explained as we walked to the elevator

I hit the '8' button and waited till the doors re-opened, we exited as an elderly couple entered and walked to the apartment as the numbers went up across the doors, 801, 802, 803, 804... Finally we reached the apartment, with the silver plaque reading 810. I twisted the key and was instantly greeted by Snow and Makkachin. Makkachin was staying here just because Victor and Yuuri were in Russia and Makkachin was getting too old to travel, y'know, being 15 and all.

Atsumu instantly got down on his knees to give Snow head scratches, "Oh my god! You have dogs! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Snow is my parents and Makkachin," I said pointing to the dogs as I mentioned them, "Is just staying here till my uncle comes to get them today."

"They're so pretty!"

"Mhm."

Me and Atsumu took off our shoes, I went to the kitchen, filled up the dogs bowls, washed my hands and then crashed on the couch.

Once Atsumu noticed my presence he laid his head on my lap "Your place is nice, Omi-Omi."

"Thanks."

"..Can I change positions so we can both be comfy?" I asked

Atsumu nodded and sat up so I could lay down, Atsumu then laid onto my chest, listening to my breathing and heart beat.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

-10 minutes later-

After we laid there and watched tv for a bit, I heard a knock on the door, "That must be my uncle." Atsumu shot up, and followed me to the door.

When I opened it, I saw my uncle, Nikiforov-Katsuki Yuuri and his husband Victor standing to his left. Once they took a step in the door Makkachin came bolting towards them

"Makkachin! My baby!" Victor called out as he lifted Makkachin into his arms.

Atsumu stood in surprise for a minute while I talked to them. Does he know that they're famous figure skaters? No, I think his twin brother Osamu and his team captain Kita are into that stuff.

"So, before you go I want you to meet someone," I started, I gestured to my boyfriend as I spoke, "This is my boyfriend, Atsumu Miya."

Yuuri smiled and shook his hand, "Its a pleasure to meet you, Atsumu."

After Victor did the same they turned to leave before Atsumu spoke up, "Wait! Can I get your autographs? My captain and brother are big figure skating fans and they would kill me if I passed this up."

Victor and Yuuri laughed and nodded, "Sure! We'd love to!"

Victor and Yuuri signed the autograph to Osamu and wrote below it, "Your brothers cool!" and the one to Kita with "The best captain ever! Kita!"

"Thank you."

"Of course! Your family now after all!"

After we said our goodbyes, Yuuri and Victor left me and my boyfriend alone again. I looked at Atsumu, grabbed his hand and we walked back over to the couch to watch tv while Snow slept on her bed near us. Atsumu kept insisting that we watch Gilmore Girls until I finally gave in and we ended up binging to season 3.

"I'm telling you! Luke is the best!"

"Aand why do you think that?"

I shrugged, "Meh Lorelai is better."

"No!"

We kept bickering like children for a few minutes before I pulled my lover in for a kiss, that managed to shut him up. But his red face was too cute to not kiss over, and over, and over again. So that's exactly what I did.

"A kiss here." I said giving a kiss on his cheek, "And a kiss for the other side," "A kiss here," "And a kiss here,"

"Omiiiiiiii~"

I laughed, stopping my kissing spree after I kissed every spot on his face, "I love you."

"I love you more, baby dearest."

I smiled, "Just call me baby or dear. Baby dearest sounds weird."

"Awh but its cute!"

Snow barked as they awoke from their nap

"See? Even snow agrees that its cute!"

I looked over at Snow with a deadpan look, "Really? I know you like my boyfriend because he gave you belly rubs, but, really?"

--When Seung-gil and Phichit got home--

I was too focused on the snoring Atsumu on my chest to hear the clicking of the front door, the removal of shoes, or the hanging of keys. It was only when I was a flash off a camera did I know that my parents saw my boyfriend laying on my lap.

My dad started rapidly typing on his phone, "Seung-gil! Get in here! This is adorable!"

The black haired Korean walked into the room, "Phichit, lets let them relax and get dinner started ok?"

"OK!" After that, Seung-gil was walking to the kitchen and Phichit speed walking to keep up.

After a few more minutes Atsumu woke up from his nap with a yawn, "Hey Omi-kun."

"Good morning dear."

I started petting his head when spoke, "Did your parents come home?"

"Mhm."

"WAIT WHAT?!"

"Shh.. I just wanted you to sleep, its fine."

"..OK."

Then I heard a gasp from the kitchen

"SEUNG-GIL! SAKUSAS BOYFRIEND IS AWAKE!"

My dads had came peaking out from the corner 2 seconds later, "Atsumu, this is my dad."

The cheerful boy sat up and shook my dads hand, "Hi, I'm Atsumu Miya."

"Im Phichit Lee."

"Hold on im gonna go get your other dad." My dad said before leaving the room to go grab his husband.

"Wait... YOU HAVE TWO DADS AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME?!"

"You never asked."

"Humph." Atsumu huffed, turning his head.

"Oh come on.. Look at me dear."

"Nu!"

"I'll let you see baby pictures of me later." I offered.

"..."

I sighed and grabbed his hand, "We'll go get fatty tuna tomorrow with Kimori and his boyfriend."

Atsumu head perked up, "Yes! I love you!"

After that, my dad came in the room with my other dad, "My name is Seung-Gil Lee." He greeted before shaking Atsumu's hand.

After that we sat down at the dinner table, with me and Atsumu on one side and my parents on the other.

"So how long have you two been together?" Phichit asked

"Since our first year of Highschool." I answered

My dads smile grew, "Wait! Are we the first ones in the family to know?!"

"Nah, Uncle Leo and Guang-Hong know."

He gasped dramatically and put a hand on his chest, "My own squad betraying me like that, so tragic~"

"Also heres a question." Atsumu started

"Yes?"

"Whos your favorite character in Gilmore Girls?"

"Luke." Seung-Gil said

This caused my dad to look at him with bewilderment, "Am I just getting betrayed tonight?! Lorelai is SO much better!"

"Nope."

After we finished eating we went to the living room and chatted.

"So what happened at practice?"

"Oh I got a story," Seung-gil started, putting his cup down.

"So you know how me and your dad are skating on the same rink as the Russian team till our rink gets redone?"

"Yes?"

"So apparently Georgi is dating that one French skater."

"Which one?"

"Jean.. Douche? Y'know that Akaashi boys dad."

That comment made Atsumu nearly spit out his drink, Phichit's dark eyes went wide, "Are you ok?!"

"Yeah, my best friends just dating Akaashi so it was just surprising that he's part French."

"Wait, I thought Oikawa was your best friend?"

"I have multiple best friends, Omi."

"Anyway, so, I heard that Kimori got a boyfriend~"

"Phichit, dear, love of my life, please don't tell me your using your sisters kids life as blackmail."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Yeah he does." I answered

"Do you have photos?!"

"Dad, I wouldn't be your child if I didn't have blackmail."

I quickly pulled up a photo and showed it to my dads,

(Here's the photo, credit to the artist)

And with that my dad started gushing over the photo, "Awh! Thats so cute!"

"Speaking of cute, do you have Sakusa's baby photos?"

"Oh you bet I do!"

For the next half an hour they looked at baby photos.

Once Atsumu got ready to leave, he asked for a final thing, "Can I get your autographs? My captain and twin brother love figure skating and you two are some of their favorites."

They nodded and signed the papers, and with that, I gave Atsumu a kiss on the cheek and he left.

.

.

.

.

"Sooo whens the wedding?"

[13tinysocks]

HHHH The Hunt Is On original concepts that were scrapped and I feel like rambling. For context THIO is Jane/clockwork/Jack x reader currently on Quotev. At first it was just Jack tho. Anyway *shakes my ass* Mild thio spoilerz 

-As I said, THIO at first was supposed to be only a Jack X reader. I understand it would have been a lot more popular if it was but tbh I don’t really care. We thought to ourselves, “Ight Jack’s epic but what if lesbians?” And slapped them in. 

-Also put them in for a better story. Jane vs Jeff is super popular and we wanted to do our own take on it. Jack vs Jeff is interesting but Jack has no emotional attachment to Jeff in this universe. Wouldn’t have been much drive without Jane and the lesbianism xoxo.

-THIOs name was supposed to be linked to YN searching for Jack. We kept the name bc these bitches lookin’ for Jeff and how to stop him. The name kinda bothers me now but it’s sticks well enough.

-In early concepts YN was the host of a popular cyptid hunting/buzzfeed unsovled style webshow. She was still going to be autistic w/ a special interest in the supernatural. 

-She was going to be more driven though. She would do fucking anything to prove that ghosts and/or monsters are real.

-Prob 21/22

-Jack was going to live in some abandoned mall or hospital. Same goth aesthetic but less neat and quieter. A lil more unhinged but still wicked smart.

-Soulmate AU!!!!!

-The writing on your skin shows up on your soulmate’s! YN would get hastily written science notes until she was 19 then it all stopped. Occasionally a random mark that was accidental. 

-They were too driven to really communicate much. They both figured, “Eh I’ll get to it when I’m 30.”

-YN writes her entire routine for the day on her forearm. It’s a habit that she can’t shake.

-Jack’s blind and can’t see it. But if Rake were to catch it he’d point it out prob. If Jack so desired, he could take a (shitty) pic of the text and have it read out to him

-He figures it out way before YN

-Uses it to avoid her when she comes lookin’. She doesn’t get how he keeps giving her the slip.

-When he reveals it to her she’s like MOTHERFUCKER!!!! ! !! !! !! But also, ayo? Hot gray dude with a god complex? Wanna make out?

-When it was just a Jack/reader the plot was gonna go a lil like this:

-YNs crew were going to be her buds. One of them was going to be killed by Jack for munchies pre-story. Later on, YN would use a spirit box and make contact with him (Noah) More on this in a bit

-Noah was going to be punk, loud, annoying, and a skater.

-The group is still in shock and mourning even thought it’s been two months. A few people from their block have gone missing here and there. Something isn’t right. 

-YN and co. were going to film an episode where Jack and rake live. Seedeater was contemplated on being there too but we didn’t really connect with him.

-They catch something black and blurry on camera but only see it when they’re editing. 

-Go back over and over. Nothing.

-YNs like fuck it! Im going alone bc y’all loud.

-Night vision handheld camera like outlast

-Gets a good pic of Jack. It’s unclear, he has his mask on, he’s on all fours.

-Thing is, he like, is faking being a feral animal bc he wants YN to fuck off. 

-Just imagine being smart but crawling around and growling so this girl will go away.

-Doesn’t attack her bc he’s very aware that if too many folks go missing around the area then more people will look. He doesn’t fell like relocating again.

-YN gets in contact w/ Noah via the spirit box.

-Ghosts r real baby!

-He spills on what happened to him. Tells YN that it’s too dangerous.

-His ghost is super duper fucked since Jack got to him when he was STARVING

-YN sort of heed his warning. She’s like ayo!!! Monsters are real that’s so swag but also I’m gonna expose that thing for what it did to you >:

-Noahs like on god literally dont you will die

-No <3

-There’s a big reveal when Jack finally stands up normally and YN is about to piss herself bc the entire time she thought he was a smart dog xoxo

-YN peaces the fuck out

-Goes back a lil later. Scared but determined. No one believes her abt the spirit box and Noah won’t show himself to anyone else.

-YNs upset about Noah but a curious person. Wants to examine Jack from every angle before she exposes his ass.

-Trail and error. Lots of him chasing her off or almost actually fucking killing her. 

-Eventually, there’s like a weird unorthodox interview.

-YN asks him questions from across a tiny table. He’s so fucking tall, he could reach over and snap your neck in an instant. 

-Learn about one another. 

-Bonding. Some frenemy type of shit.

-Jack is YNs 7ft tall lil secret

-Closer. Forgiveness.

-Someone else is like ayo? There’s body parts at (Jack’s place of residence)

-Ruh-roh law enforcement.

-YN and co. saves Jack 

-Friends feel betrayed but they like ight ig, monster fucker lookin ass

-Gets muddied here bc this is where we did an overhaul to the plot where it was more of a character driven, tragic, depressing, hope punk, sort of thing with lesbians and mullet Liu. 

-Note that I’m not going to write this. I’ve found I only enjoy writing polyamory fics instead of solo stuff x.

-THIO is currently ongoing and it is a lot different and very, very plot heavy. The link for the fic is in the thio/ the hunt is on tag. 

[astoldbygingersnaps]

Harper’s 2020 Fic Wrap-Up

my very good friend and incredibly talented felow writer @sagemoderocklee came up with the idea of doing an end of the year fic wrapup in an attempt to polish the turd known as 2020, and since i actually managed to get some writing done this year i figured, why not jump on the bandwagon? 

a lot of super duper fucking shitty things happened in 2020, but i will always be proud that in this incredibly chaotic, stressful, and challenging year i managed to produce almost 180k of content (and that’s not even counting the writing i started in 2020 but haven’t published yet). so, to celebrate what’s been a pretty big achievement for me, i wanted to go through the various projects i’ve spent the last twelve months working on and give a preview of my plans for 2021.

let’s jump in!

projects i worked on/completed in 2020:

first off, let’s start with the beast to end all beasts, my personal baby, and honestly probably the reason most people follow me -- star trek au:

something bigger than the sky (shiita; 44,163 words; completed): 

i’ve said this before, but the whole idea for star trek au was literally just a joke between me and my-then girlfriend, now-fiancee, and eternal shiita enabler alexa aka @durintrash (by the way, if you follow me for my fics and you DON’T follow alexa for her corresponding art WHAT, exactly, are you doing with your life????) where i sat in a space-themed diner and said ‘haha imagine itachi as a vulcan.’ but then i blinked and suddenly somehow i’d written the prologue and the first chapter of SBTTS in the span of a week. it’s like i was possessed by a fanfic demon.

it sounds super cheesy but i honestly can’t say enough how important this fic has been to me and how much it’s pushed me to be a more productive and more dedicated writer. previously i spent a lot of time Thinking about writing and occasionally i’d put a few words on the page and then i’d go... do... something... else. but star trek au was the first idea i loved enough that it actually pushed me to write and keep writing and not give up even when i was confronted with things like writer’s block and worry over the quality of my writing. so thank you, star trek au, for being the light in a very dark year for me. 

by the end of SBTTS, i felt like i accomplished everything i wanted to do with the story’s beginning installment: i introduced all the characters and set the groundwork for their development; i showed what life on the corvus was like and how starfleet, the federation, and the universe functioned; and, more than anything, i was able to sketch out both the main protagonists -- itachi and shisui -- with all their strengths and flaws, show their relationship to one another, and hint at how that relationship would progress. 

all the stars are closer (shiita; 75,195 words; completed)

considering how slow i used to be at writing, i thought it would be, like, twelve years before i managed to get to the second part in the series. BUT then covid happened and i half-lost, half-quit my job, and like a lot of people this year i ended up with a lot of free time on my hands. and so, like a fucking demon, i finished this part in two and a half months. 

when i originally planned this part out, i really thought it would be a lot shorter and a lot lighter atmosphere-wise than it turned out. instead, this second section of the story ended up being pretty meaty in terms of length and in subject.

that said, overall, i’m really happy with how ATSAC turned out. i loved the way the characters progressed, how the relationships deepened, and how we were able to see this universe grow bigger and more complicated. and i’m very satisifed with how it set the stage for part three, which takes us to...

lovers alone wear sunlight (shiita; 41,518 words; in progress)

there’s... a lot about this part that i just can’t talk about yet, a) because it isn’t finished and b) because it contains some of the biggest plot points in the entire series thus far. if you’ve been keeping up with the stardates thus far (which i encourage you to do!) you know what part three is leading up to: itachi leaving the corvus and the dissolution of shisui and itachi’s growing relationship. 

with that in mind, i’m... more than a little terrified about writing part three, which is why the third chapter has been languishing in my google drive for months now. (and also why i started not one, but TWO new fics to cope with my writer’s block. whoops.) chapter three is where all the parts come together and shit hits the fan, and i can only hope that everyone will be as excited to read it as i am to publish it. 

next up, the two other projects i began this year:

salvation comes only in our dreams (shiita; canon divergence; 16,835 words; in progress)

for a long time, i’ve wanted to write something that’s actually set in the naruto universe and works to correct a lot of the flaws that i see in the series. there are a lot of things that bother me about naruto, but i think one of the things that frustrates me the most is the really messy and in some ways offensive resolution to the uchiha coup plot thread, and i wanted to write a story that dealt with the complicated themes of the series--imperialism, oppression, genocide, child soldiers--but, like, didn’t suck and completely drop the ball. thus, the massacre au was born. 

my main goal was to tell a story that showed a lot of these characters in ways we’ve never seen them before, specifically itachi. i didn’t want to write itachi as just an idealist who suffers and Suffers AND SUFFERS for konoha yet still remains loyal to the village for some unfathomable reason like he is in the series. i wanted to write an itachi that was sharper, more jaded, and more suspicious of the world around him, but overall was still a good person with a kind heart. and for shisui, well... obviously there’s a lot going on there, too. 

this is easily the darkest story i’ve ever written, and as the plot thickens it will certainly get darker with relationship dynamics that are complicated and unhealthy At Best. i hope that as the story goes on it’s a ride people continue to enjoy, as i was super pleasantly surprised at how popular this fic became (compared to my usual stats, at least) 

oceans between us (shiita; alternate universe; 15,039 words; in progress)

it’s good to know that i continue to be the most ridiculously niche version of myself as yes, i wrote a fucking shiita atonement au. 

with each fic i write i try to have a very specific voice that suits the particular piece and distinguishes it from other stories that include the same characters. for example, star trek au chapters tend to be more fun and light-hearted (especially shisui POV chapters) and lean more into the action movie and sci-fi adventure feel of the star trek universe, while the massacre au is written in a way that’s much heavier and guided by itachi’s emotions and experiences. my main goal with this story was to give it the same romantic, operatic, almost hazy quality that the movie has, which reflects the period setting and also the nature of this grand tragic love story. 

i knew from the beginning that there were going to be a lot of things that i cut from the film in my retelling, like the lola subplot and obviously the setting of pre-wwii england. i also knew i wanted to explore some of the aspects of the film that were implied more than outright stated, like the themes of classism and upper-class privileges. and more than anything i wanted to structure this piece around this idea of tension building and building until it finally snaps and there’s just a world of mess and hurt and loss that affects these two characters in two very different ways. 

also, the sex scene. i haven’t written a sex scene for anything in, like, a decade, so that was a lot of pressure. but i’m happy with how it came out and i think it ended up being an aspect of the story that felt like both a natural progression and necessary to show the affection these two people have for one another.

originally i was just going to end the story with shisui going to jail, but when i told alexa this i genuinely thought she was going to kill me. so, that didn’t happen lmao. but the more i tried to imagine what a second chapter would look like, the more i realized she was right, and it would have been a terrible idea to end the fic there. as for whether or not the final chapter will keep That Ending... who can say?

goals i have for 2021:

finishing lovers alone wear sunlight and, if i’m very lucky, beginning the fourth and second to last part of star trek au (yes, as it currently stands this 160k+ word series is only halfway finished. sorry not sorry)

publishing the next chapter of salvation comes only in our dreams (i don’t know when it will drop. i don’t know anything about this fic. please do not @ me) 

completing oceans between us (the second and final chapter is currently sitting at about 4k words and will probably end up at about 15k in total)

completing and publishing a new fic i’ve started at the very end of 2020, which is the shiita jurassic world au nobody but me and alexa knew they wanted. it’s essentially a 90s romcom with dinosaurs and i cannot Wait to share it. (it’s at about 9k right now and will probably end up being around 20k to 23k in total... maybe...)

FINALLY starting my dream project: the shiita olympics au i’ve been planning for years, where itachi is a figure skater and shisui is a hockey player (i’d like to keep this under 150k but at this point trying to keep my stories at a managable word count is a losing battle)

anyway, that’s it! if you managed to get this far in this very self-indulgent and shameless bit of self promotion, congrats! also, a very big thank you to everyone who’s read my fics, left me kudos and comments, and spent their time on my work, because it really does mean the world to me. 

here’s hoping 2021 is a much healthier and happier year for us all! 

[artxyra]

When It Rains, It Pours | One-Shot

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a name that hasn’t said in the halls of Dupont for years. A name that there graduating class of 20XX so much pain and guilt. 

It’s judgement day. 

The former students stand proud in the crowd of other graduates as their ten-year high school reunion starts. The majority of the people are excitedly chatting it up to those they haven’t seen in years. However, there is one group of alumni that stands out: former teacher Caline Bustier’s class. 

Let’s start with Alya Cesaire nee Lahiffe, a stay-at-home mom with a running self-help blog. 

With all the blog post that consisted of Lila Rossi, a woman she loathes to the bottom of her heart, her chances of being a famous reporter died when entered her first journalism class at her University. It was a day that she’ll never forget, the day when her entire life’s work became the laughing stock and the perfect example of what not to do. She ended up dropping out of the class and registering herself as undecided. Not even a year later is when she fell pregnant with her first child out of four with Nino. The embarrassment of a pregnancy in college and her stubbornness to prove herself that she can make a successful blog changed her to become a stay-at-mom and write down all that she has experienced. 

Nino Lahiffe loves and supports his wife despite the ups and downs they went through after the invasion of Lila Rossi. He lost contact with his childhood best friend only to be replaced by Claude Mime, a famous filmmaker who is currently located on the other side of the courtyard. Due to Lila’s fake promises of getting to meet famous filmmakers and artists, he lost opportunities to make connections in the U.S. Still Nino went to school for music production and was able to start a music production company here in Paris after the birth of his second child. 

“Hey Nino,” Adrien Agreste greets his former best friend after seven years of no contact. “I didn’t think you would be here.” 

Nino, along with Alya, turns to Adrien. The glares on their faces fade seeing how much the blonde model has changed. 

Adrien Agreste, the former face of the Agreste brand, turned into a physic teacher and a comedian on the side. After the reveal that his father was Hawkmoth, Paris’ notorious villain, he wanted nothing to do with the Agreste brand or its name. He even tried to take on his mother’s maiden name but after the fallout with his aunt and cousin, he decided against it. Currently, the blonde is happily married but no one knows who that person is. 

“Agreste,” Nino greets back. 

“How are the kids, I watch your videos Alya.” It was a sad attempt to start a conversation. 

Alya curtly nods, “Adrien, it’s good to see you. The kids are great.” 

It didn’t take Alya long to move away from the conversation by finding a distraction with the punch bowl. 

Thankfully for Alya, she sees Alix, Juleka, and Rose standing over there with no indication that they’re planning on moving. 

Alix Kubdel tried to become a high-class skater, but her dreams fell through when she accidentally twisted her ankle during a big race that would have lead to some big sponsors. She did leave Paris and travel as her back up plan. 

For Rose and Juleka, after Kitty Selection broke up, they went their separate ways for a couple of years. Rose was under Lila’s influence longer than Juleka due to her lack of mind to communicate with Prince Ali (now King) until it was too late. Juleka became a model for the Paris division of the famous designer NETTA. It was just four years ago that the two came back into contact with one another. 

“Hey gurls, it great to see you guys again,” Alya speaks walking closer to the small group of women. 

“Hey Alya, motherhood has gone you well,” Alix speaks as she passed a freshly made cup over to the mother. 

“Thank you, it wasn’t at first but now I wouldn’t change it for the world.” She replies taking the cup into her hands. 

“Has anyone heard from Marinette?” It was Juleka that broke the peace. 

With the mention of the one student that didn’t walk with them during graduation, all conversation ceases to exist. People turn to one another wondering the same thing. It wasn’t long before they started looking around for the familiar blue hair upcoming designer. 

“Jules, didn’t Luka say that Marinette would come to the reunion?” Rose asks looking at her girlfriend with confusion written across her face. Juleka shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. 

Alya finds interest in her cup as she hardly looks up from it. A daze look brush across her eyes as she remembers the messages, those cruel messages. It was no wonder Marinette returned her calls and pleas when she found out the truth about Lila.

“I hope she shows up.” It was a whisper on her lips, but the underwhelming undertone of grief stood there. 

“I’m sure she will,” Alix reassures. 

 The reunion continues as is planned that is until the arrival of the one person everyone wanted to see. 

It was Max, that spotted the blue-haired designer first. Since graduating, getting a job in technology was a struggle. Somehow, people had gotten word of how he thought a napkin could do damage to the eye. So when all the offers were rejected, he spoke to his mother and was able to run a self-employed IT job with the help of Markov 2.0 and his supporters. Surprisingly, leaving Paris in favor of England was the best decision he has ever made. 

“Marinette is that you?” He asks the mysterious woman. 

Of course, it was Marinette; however, this Marinette is different. She wore black dress pants with a floral halter top. Her hair is much shorter, there was no chance to really style it. Marinette had a ladybug tattoo on her wrist abled with a date underneath. 

“Hi Max, how’s life going?” She asks with that infamous kind smile. 

Suddenly everyone turns to the two with a mixture of emotions. Those who hang out with Marinette after the Lila incident walks over to smiles on their faces while those who had forgone the woman stares in shock. 

“Marinette thank the lord that you’re here…” It was Aurore that took control of the conversation. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a woman of many secret finally came back to the center of where her life truly began. A little over ten years ago when the Lilia situation was at its peak, Marinette left for a week to herself. She came back, reborn. Cutting the ties with Mlle. Bustier class and working on herself, she started up an online business. It started off small but by being endorse by Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, her business took off. By the time her final year of lycee began she had her first storefront open and a name for herself under NETTA. 

“How’s the baby?” It was a question thrown for a loop. Everyone waited for an answer. 

“He’s fine, in fact, he’s started crawling recently,” Marinette answers with a bright smile on her face. 

Everyone gushes over the thought of seeing Marinette’s son trying to crawl. 

Several minutes past before Alya managed to find the courage to speak to the bluenette. 

“Marinette?” She asks walking over to the designer with a look of determination and backed by their former classmates. Alya takes Nino’s hand into her own. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t believe you about Lila. I thought--”

“I figured as much when my phone began to blow up with messages from all of you.” Marinette interrupts. 

“Is there any way we can work this out, maybe get caught up on life?” Alya’s determined to rekindle her lost friendship. 

“I-I don’t know, Alya. You and the rest of the class really hurt me, broke my trust in you.” 

They all look down. It was a painful reminder that trust is the foundation of any friendship. 

“However, I’m willing to give you all a chance. Don’t waste it.” With that Marinette walks away leaving the group in a mist of hope.

[chaos-caffeinated]

The Illegitimate Son

Rating: T; General Angst

Word Length: 4,265 Words 

Chapter: Chapter 4, Part 2/3; The Intervention

---

          He shyly knocked before poking his head in to see the counselor, and hero, sitting behind his desk, waiting for him. Hound Dog met his gaze and waved him in, taking note of Aaron’s attempt to make himself more presentable -washed face, swept back hair, straightened uniform- as he sat in the plush seat across from his desk.

          "Aaron, right?" He asked. Aaron only nodded politely in response, his body tense.

          Organizing his thoughts and being careful not to intimidate the young redhead, Hound Dog relaxed his shoulders and softened his scrutinizing glare. Aaron kept twiddling his thumbs, nervously glancing back towards the door he entered through. The tension was palpable, and it came from only one person.

          “Aaron, you aren’t in any sort of trouble.”

          The young male relaxed, a heavy sigh escaping his once pursed lips as he leaned back into the chair, but he still seemed on guard.

          It would be a gradual process, but Hound Dog was patient, he had to be. Partially because his Quirk made him incoherent when he got upset, but also because of his background as a counselor. He knew Aaron would answer in his own time, all he had to do was ask the right questions at the right time.

          “I just want to know how you’re doing. It can be difficult adjusting to a new school, let alone a new country. So, are you well?”

          His body retreated into the chair.

          His frame shrunk slightly.

          His eyes glued to the floor.

          "I am." Aaron blatantly lied, biting the inside of his lip, "I'm just...it's hard to get accustomed to... a new culture."

          This is good, he may be lying, but at least he’s talking. And that is all Hound Dog needs.

          "New culture?”

          “Um… well, not really the culture… uh, heroes? They’re seen…differently, I guess.”

          Hound Dog was silent as he thought of his reply, watching himself. “Aaron, does this difference in perspective have anything to do with this?”

          He pulled out two papers, placing them in front of Aaron and patiently waited.

          Hesitant, Aaron glanced at the fine lines of the papers, the words for him blurry but recognizable. Getting a closer look, his attention was focused on the paper that was written on. It was filled out in its entirety, even the margins had scrawling. Finally, he brought himself to look at the blank paper, his paper, beside it.

          "You left yours blank, yet you wrote your name on it and gave it back. Wouldn't it have been easier if you just kept the paper?" His voice was softer, and he leaned forward.

          Aaron clenched his jaw, he didn't want this right now, he wanted to leave. Looking anywhere besides the counselor in front of him, he shrugged his shoulders and sunk back into his seat.

          "I suppose you want to leave, want to talk about anything else, but Aaron,” Hound Dog took a deep breath, “is that really what you need?”

          Aaron flinched again and glanced at his eyes, he wanted him to be cold and critical, intimidating and unable to speak properly like the other day, his eyes boring straight through him but… they were so soft and filled with genuine worry.

          He didn't like that at all.

          "I’m not feeling well, and I'm sorry I brought it to the campus."

          "Why are you apologizing for something you didn’t do?"

          Aaron's lips quivered and he looked down, his eyes beginning to tear up. "Because... Because U.A. is a prestigious school and... I don't deserve to be here… I only applied because I thought I wouldn’t pass, and the only reason I even had to apply was because my mom got a job here and my brother moved here. I’m a skater, not a hero and I have too many problems and god dammit I shouldn’t be feeling sorry!”

          He shut down; anxiety turned to anger. Aaron hated that he felt sorry for himself. More important people had greater issues, so why should he worry about himself? He didn’t matter, and he shouldn’t.

          Should he?

          "So, you think yourself unworthy?"

          Aaron shook his head, "No I... I feel weird, when I know I’m not the only one that's having trouble and I feel bad for... feeling bad about me."

          That… was not what Hound Dog was expecting, but it was progress and that is what he wanted.

          "So, to sum things up,” he began, organizing Aaron’s jumbled thoughts, "you don’t like feeling sorry for yourself when you ‘should’ be helping someone else?"

          Aaron nodded, but the way he said ‘should’ stirred something inside of him.

          "Do you have someone you trust?"

          He nodded again. "My mom and my brother."

          "Do you talk to them about your troubles and feelings?"

          "No, and that’s the last thing I would ever do. At least…” he trailed off, unable to discern what he was thinking.

          "What do you mean, do they pry into your life or…?”

          "No, I just feel pressured and... and yesterday was what drove me over the edge, I guess. … I'm sorry, you probably have more important things to do and I don’t want you to waste your time on me." Aaron shifted forward, about to stand up and exit before Hound Dog could stop him.

          But he had everything he wanted, and knew what Aaron needed. Though, he did have to stop himself from instinctively growling at the kid when he tried to ditch.

          "Aaron, I assure you that you're not wasting my time. I take my job seriously, when a student needs help, I'm there to provide that help -whether they need someone to talk to, career advice, or simply just to vent- that is what I am here for.”

          Aaron sat back in his seat. He felt, well he couldn’t tell how he felt. This was different than when Aria or Faian said he could talk to them. He thought they said that out of obligation, but…

          “Even the top hero students need someone to talk to. It's why I'm here, to help you students out and, right now, I’m helping you. Even if you just want to scream and get it all out… Though, I do ask you warn me so I can cover my ears.”

          Aaron had the slightest hint of a smile, almost impossible to see if one didn’t know what to look for, but Hound Dog did.

          “With that said, would you like to talk about yesterday?”

          That small smile quickly vanished, and he stayed quiet for a moment, pursing his lips and taking a deep breath before releasing it in a heavy sigh. He shifted in his seat some more, finally muttering “Will anyone know?”

          Hound Dog shook his head. "Nothing ever comes out of this office; of that I can promise.

          Aaron nodded slowly, gathering himself for what he would say. A few minutes passed when tears began to stream down his face. "Uhm... yesterday...” He hesitated, worried, but he had to do this. "Yesterday I found out that my dad is alive and ... very well, actually…"

          "Oh?” Hound Dog was surprised, but the lack of a father figure did explain some things. He urged Aaron on, kindly, of course.

          "I had never met my dad, and he doesn’t know I exist."

          Hound Dog was putting the pieces together, but he wanted Aaron to tell it at his own pace, so he continued to listen.

          "My mom..." Aaron placed his hands on his knees, gripping his slacks tightly. "She had a very different mentality back then, before she met my best friend and later adopted him, and before she took therapy, too.”

          Hound Dog nodded, signaling that he was listening. "What happened?"

          Aaron paused for a moment. "She had this thought, this… fear… that the person she cared for most wouldn’t be able to keep doing what they did forever. So, she decided that she would carry this baby, his baby, and train them, train me until I was exactly like that person… like my father.”

          Aaron’s tears wouldn’t stop, and he had to take a moment to collect himself. Hound Dog offered him some tissues and reminded him that they had all the time in the world.

          He could, and will, wait.

          “I honestly don't remember much of it since I was pretty young, or maybe she felt guilty and hid it but..." He pursed his lips again, shaking his head slowly as he rested his intertwined fingers in his lap. He couldn’t bear to look into Hound Dog’s kind eyes, so he kept his focus below at his chest.

          "It's hard to think about it. That I was the product of some delusion and that I was being groomed for some prophecy that never existed…” Aaron’s words became harsh, his anger rising again. “What if I fulfilled it? What if I became a puppet for my own mother because she was afraid?”

          Hound Dog grew wary of the sharper tone in Aaron’s voice. He knew Aaron needed to let it out, but he had to make sure he didn’t hurt himself in the process.

          “Well, did any part of it come true?”

          Aaron was caught off guard, his demeanor softening. "I-I don't know anymore... that's why I wasn’t sure about going to U.A., but I couldn’t leave Faian behind. It’s why I applied to both the hero and general departments, so I could stay with him.”

          "You really trust him, your brother. Your mother must trust him a lot, too.”

          "They want the best for me, but I don't even know what's best for me. So, yesterday with the assignment, I didn't know what to write down. I know I’m not going to be a skater forever, the only career I thought about was coaching but… I don't want to be a coach. I want to help people, like really help them… I want…” Aaron rested his arms on his thighs as he paused, thinking. "I'm not special, but sometimes I think that I can be like Faian…” that last part slipped out, and he stopped talking.

          "I know he is your brother and in the hero course, but what else can you tell me about him?” Hound Dog asked.

          Aaron was honestly surprised to hear that question. Coming from a ‘middle town’ (Faian liked to be deliberate/specific), most everyone knew everyone, and he and Faian were amongst the most well-known. Though, it made sense that all the way in Japan, he would be unknown.

          "He's my best friend… my brother, has been since kindergarten. Our mom adopted him when he was 8 after… After an accident.” Aaron was a little hesitant talking about Faian, concerned he might share something he was entrusted.

          Hound Dog took note of this and thought it may be a good idea to speak to him, too.

          “Yet, despite everything he’s been through, he’s still just so… awesome. He’s compassionate and intelligent and so powerful, but he’s humble and loves helping people better themselves. He even has his moments, his lows, but he always gets right back up, stronger than ever and just…” Aaron had to stop himself, worried he was going too far, but…

          When he was talking about Faian, he realized how much in common he had with him, more than he previously thought. ‘Two sides of the same coin’ came to mind, but he internally scoffed at the idea.

          "Interesting… Does he share his troubles with you or your mom?”

          "Mm, rarely. He’s strong enough to handle some things alone, but he knows when to reach out.” Aaron realized the irony in that statement, but he continued, hoping Hound Dog would ignore it.

          He didn’t.

          “Our mom once told me she noticed the closeness of the three of us. Like, we don't necessarily have to say something, we just know, sorta like a sixth sense. But Faian is really smart, intelligent, and when I'm with him and my mom I just feel... out of my league? I don’t feel stupid, but I feel like I don’t have to talk, or even be there… Like the two can manage without me. I even feel the same with Shinsou, with how reserved and determined he is.”

          He was surprise by how much more willing Aaron was to talk about his loved ones. Admittedly, it sounded like an inferiority complex to Hound Dog at first, but with the way Aaron spoke with genuine respect and love about his family, he began to think otherwise. He thought that Aaron might be fascinated with them, that he wants to prove that he is just as good. Or perhaps he feels like they aren’t letting him flourish, having such influence on his perceptions. Of course, it was too early for Hound Dog to make any conclusion, but he knew one thing:

          Aaron knows what he wants and how to get there, he just needs a little push, so to speak.

          “Perhaps, then, you want a change of pace? It sounds like you’ve spent so long with one type of person that you could use a fresh view. Some new, more extroverted friends.”

          Aaron thought for a while and shrugs indecisively. "I don't know," his confusion evident, "I just know that... that I'm social. At least, I try to be. I’m always moving about, trying to make small talk with new people and even interacting with my… uhm… my fans…” He whispered that last part, his cheeks dusted pink.

          "Oh? Fans? " Hound Dog asked, amused. "I take it they’re fans of your skating?”

          Aaron's eyebrows raised slightly; would this be how people talked with his mom? Like they were talking to a friend? Just sharing more and more as they grew more comfortable. He had watched her go into her psych mode, the almost genuine smiles and laughs, something that would seem incredibly real to anyone but her own children who see her real smile every day.

          Hound Dog watched Aaron's gaze focus on his desk, and he leaned forward a bit. "Aaron...?"

          "It's just... weird that they're so interested in me, either for my skating, or my looks." He had a proud smile for a second, but quickly dropped it as he continued. "I do really appreciate their support, but sometimes I feel like they don’t really care about me as a person. Like I’m just there for their entertainment."

          Hound Dog rested his hand beneath his chin and smiled, chuckling even. "You're a little skeptical about their motives for supporting you, huh? Sounds like a hero thing. Do you mind if I…?” He pointed at his computer and Aaron looked at it for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head slightly, silently asking for clarification.

          "Well, I'm pretty sure there's something I can find that'll make you understand the real reason you have fans.”

          "Like what?" Aaron was lost completely. How did they get from him being a mess to talking about his fans?

          "You’ll see soon enough but let me ask you something else while I do this. Why did you join ice-skating? You said your mom was going to turn you into a legacy for your father, but your life seems to revolve around ice-skating.”

          Aaron hummed softly, smiling faintly at the thought. "Oh… I was 3, maybe 4? At that time my mom was either working or taking night classes and she paid the neighbor to babysit me. She was an old lady ... Lucia? I think that was her name, I don't remember her much, but I do remember this one night when we were both watching TV.”

          Wistfulness spread across Aaron’s face, his eyes staring off into the distance as he imagined the scene in his head. He didn’t remember much from his toddler years, naturally, but he remembered this.

          “She was changing channels to see what interested us until I saw a flash of something bright and shiny. I asked if she could turn it back and..." His smile grew, his eyes held an enchanting gleam as he reminisced about one of his defining moments. "She was so beautiful, her dancing so wonderful with the way she moved her legs and body… like it was easy to skate. She had a snow Quirk, so every move she made there was snow coming from her hands and drifting behind her, catching the light and making her look ethereal..."

          Hound Dog was listening intently, seemingly done with his search. He watched the young male wave his hands about, as if he was mimicking what he was remembering.

          "She captured my attention, and it was like ... like I wanted to be her. She was smiling and having so much fun, like she was made of confidence..." he trailed off and sighed dreamily. "It was a night I never forgot ... and I was so excited to show off to my mom- I was twirling and dancing about the whole time until she finally returned, a huge smile on her face as she congratulated me, but … knowing what I know now, I’m thinking she was hiding how upset she was..." He slouched back, wiping some tears from his face as he looked up at Hound Dog, finally meeting his gaze ... and realizing just how massive he is.

          "Just look where you are now: A skater for almost a decade; numerous awards; fans all over; and now you’re attending one of the best schools in Japan, regardless of whether you want to be a hero or not. And you think your mom is upset with your choices?”

          "Sometimes I think she…” Aaron couldn’t bring himself to finish his thought.

          "What if I told you that smile she had when you first discovered ice skating was genuine?”

          Aaron was confused all over again, cocking his head and asking the counselor what he meant.

          "Your mom clearly loves you dearly, whether she had you only to fulfill a fantasy or not, she didn’t interfere with your choice to become a skater. If it took her adopting Faian to change, then it only shows just how uncommitted she was to that delusion and how much she wanted you to become your own person.” Hound Dog went back to his computer, bringing up his original search, but he wasn’t done sharing with Aaron.

          “U.A. is a school of opportunities; we prepare students for a variety of careers ranging from heroics to business to design. Parents often try to control their children by choosing the choices they present them. Yes, your mom didn’t start off as a regular parent, much less a good one, but she obviously wants to rectify that and let you be you, whatever you may choose to be. She likely abandoned her plan as soon as she saw those bright blue eyes of yours open for the first time. Do you think she would have gone back to school to support you? Or let someone else take care of you when she wanted a very specific outcome?”

          At this point, Aaron was beginning to doubt everything, again, unsure of what to make of his life. On the one hand, his mother did only have him out of a grand delusion, possibly faking all the times she was happy when he wanted to do anything other than heroics, but on the other… She actually loved him and wanted him to write his own story, doing everything she could to fix her mistake and prioritize him.

          He didn’t know which version seemed more real.

          “She probably would've trained you and it is far too common for parents to force their ideals and beliefs onto their children. And what happens then? Maybe the child will be like they wanted, a puppet they alone control and empower to stroke their own egos, or perhaps that child grows up aloof and imbittered, doing all they can to further distance themselves from their heritage. There will always be a point when the child will question the decisions, the abuse, the hate, but whether they do anything about it is impossible to say.”

          Aaron was shocked at what Hound Dog was saying. He had always thought of himself as a burden, and when he learned about his father and the circumstances regarding his birth, he felt as if everyone would be better off without him. But after everything he’d heard, Aaron couldn’t believe just how wrong he had been, and how right Hound Dog is.

          “You, however… We are all given the power to choose, but rarely can we choose our choices. What's stopping you now is doubt, doubt that you’re good enough, doubt that you matter. That doubt is holding you back and eating away at all that you could be. Your mom changed, your brother loves you, and the only reason you think otherwise is because you don’t talk to them. Now, I’ve found what I was looking for, but I want you to reflect on what I said for a few moments.”

          Aaron was speechless, his mouth agape. Was he truly that afraid? Was he so full of self-doubt that he blinded himself to the truth? But … there was still the matter of Faian. He thought he felt jealous… Jealous not just of his powerful Quirk, but of his technique and knowledge and determination and and and…

          Jealous of how he always brought smiles to the faces of those he helped…

          "Hound Dog ... what about ... Faian?"

          He paused for a moment as he was turning his computer screen. "Faian. What about him?"

          “Am I really jealous of him?”

          "Hm, on a counseling level, yes, I do think you are jealous of him.” Aaron frowned but it quickly changed to intrigue as Hound Dog continued, “But on a personal level, I think you’re jealous of what he represents.”

          "So, it’s not that I’m jealous of him and the things he can do, I’m jealous of the fact that he’s a … s-symbol…” Aaron stumbled around that last part, but before it could be questioned, he hastily asked “But isn’t jealousy wrong?”

          "Hm… Well, that's really up to you. It's okay to be jealous, healthy even, in small doses. It can inspire you to better yourself, to reflect on what you have and what you can do to improve yourself and others, but if you let it control you? If all you want to do is be better than him and prove that you are the one who should be getting the attention, then you risk hurting the ones you love as you go to further extremes to do so.”

          "No, I don't ... I don't want to be better than him... I just want to know what I can… I just want to be able to help and know that I am capable of it.”

          "In order to do that, you’ll need to work on your confidence. If you don’t think you can do something, why should someone else think you can? Here, I think now is the time to show you.” He beckoned Aaron to the turned monitor, pulling up a video.

          The thumbnail was of a kid, smiling and holding up a pair of signed ice-skating shoes. It must have been recorded on a computer webcam, since the kid looked like he was in a bedroom with posters on the wall…

          Posters of ice skaters, and the most common ones featured a young male with blond hair, red in the more recent ones.

          "So, I know I'm not supposed to be on here after my bedtime, but I just wanted to thank Aaron Granchester for saying hi to me at the State Championships!!! He was just like ... like ahh..." The young boy struggled to describe his feelings or what he had seen, but he was shouting in excitement, nearly falling out of his seat as he gushed. "So cool!! The way he skated and moved on the ice! The way he just had fun and smiled and and and just- Everything was so awesome!! Here, we even took a picture with him! I'll be back!" And he scurried off camera.

          As the video played, Aaron teared up, one hand over his mouth in surprise as the other pulled at the hem of his uniform. He sobbed softly, staring into the kid's eyes, recognizing the look he had … for it was the same one he had over a decade ago. He looked down, trying to collect himself in the few seconds the child had ran off.

          The boy returned and held up his mother’s tablet, the one Aaron remembered her holding as her son ran up to ask him for a photo. On its screen was a picture of him kneeling next to the boy, a huge grin on both their faces. "Look! Can you guys see? He's so cool and amazing!! Everyone likes him, well, not everyone and they’re wrong but still! He’s just the best and- Ahhh!!!!” He beamed with joy. "So friggin’ awesome!!"

          "Language, Trance!"

          The boy gasped before shouting back "Sorry mom!" as he looked to the side then back at the camera. "But yeah … I wanna be just like him when I grow up!!! He even gave me his skates and signed them for when I fit in them! I can’t wait to start practicing!!!”

          Hound Dog paused the video, the boy’s massive grin and shining eyes frozen on the screen.

          Aaron knew what he was talking about, he remembered that day. It was the State Championships… and he had just won 1st place.

---

Hope you all enjoy part 2/3 this week! One more to go, then we’ll be bringing back Adamance of a Dragon!

[maviemesregles]

Twas two days before Christmas

This one-shot fic was written for @thelallybrochlibrary​ Holiday exchange.

A prompt from @maryooch​ :  "How about Jamie meets Claire while she’s trying to skate (badly) at Rockefeller center during the Christmas season. Both are unattached and in the city for different reasons."

Special thanks to Anne  @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​  for always getting my messy ideas and improving them. For once again for making sure it's nice and readable for you guys.

Hope you enjoy and feel a wee bit festive! ❄️

AO3

New York, New York Frank Sinatra sang. The Big Apple stretched out all the way to the horizon in a milky white blanket of snow. The skyline pierced with gleaming structures of steel, glass, and concrete.

Claire stared out of the window where snow became even thicker than an hour ago and turned the buildings into giant ice cream cones.

“Honey, are you there?”

“Yes, Mum.” Beauchamp pressed her ear to her iPhone and climbed onto the high hotel bed. “I’m listening.”

“Baby, what did they tell you about the flight? Father has been calling British Airways at least a hundred times today. You know what he’s like.” Julia Beauchamp rattled around in the kitchen cupboards.

Claire dropped her head into the mass of pillows crispy scented of fresh laundry.

Of course, something like this could have happened only to her. After the three-day medical conference in New York, with bags full of gifts, sweets, booze for Dad, and cosmetics for Mum, Claire was ready to go back home for the holidays.

But this year the family tradition wasn’t going to happen because Claire got stuck in this city for God knows how long. The heavy blizzard came upon New York, forcing all the transatlantic flights to be cancelled. Red-faced, hands full of bags, and sweaty in her jumper, the English surgeon hissed “Fucking morons” when she was told she’s not flying today. And most likely not for the next three days. Her cell-phone kindly reminded her today is the 22nd day of December. Only two days left before Christmas. If not for being scared to be without a means of contact, Claire surely would have smashed the device on the white airport tiles.

“They put me into the hotel. It’s all paid.” She glanced at her suitcase, surrounded by shopping bags. “All flights to London cancelled.”

Reaching into one of the bags, Claire grabbed a chocolate bar, not caring about a proper lunch at the moment.

“What about Bristol? Manchester? Anything at all?” Her mother sighed, looking at the shopping list for Christmas dinner. “Dad could pick you up. Lamb just got the car back, all fixed.”

Chewing on the mint chocolate, Claire flicked through the menu on the side table.

“Nothing. I even checked flights to Edinburgh and Dublin. It looks like I’m stuck here.”

There was silence for a while. Claire could hear their dog Pop, an old pug, snoring in the background. All she wants to do is cry. Is it so much to ask? To be home for Christmas time?

“Oh, darling.” Her mother’s voice is soft and reassuring. She knows. “It’ll be fine. I’m certain that you will get home right in time for Christmas.”

After a brief goodbye, Claire checks the flight schedules again. Her frustration mounts and she begins to pace a circular path for at least ten minutes. Her nerves begin to fail her and she decides a cup of chamomile tea would be just the thing.

“Or better yet, a bottle of red," she speaks out loud filling the void for the room. She may as well take advantage of all this suite has to offer.

Her body relaxes into the lavender-scented bath foam, warming her chilly flesh as the fruity Sauvignon Blanc infuses her mouth. Later spurred by the TV forecast (damn the winter) Claire gets into leggings and oversized, knitted horridness of a sweater (decorated with mistletoes and festive ornaments all over it).  She shortly video chats with Geillis who is hugely disappointed Claire won’t get to the annual work party at the hospital.

“I do hope ye willna waste yer time in New York, a thasgaidh,*” hummed her ginger colleague. “Go to Time Square, Central Park or… Oh, weeeel, ye can go skating! Mebbe ye’ll find some attractive American who’d lay an eye on ye.” Geillis smirked.

Checking the explosion of hair on her head in the mirror, Claire sighed.

“If that attractive American is a pilot that takes me home, I would not mind, just tell me where to find him.” She tried to secure the naughty curls into something that could resemble a bun but eventually giving up.  “I feel like bloody Kevin McCallister,” Claire said as she slid into her boots.

“Weel, just dinna get in trouble with burglars.” Edgars barked a laugh and wished Beauchamp to have fun.

                                                   🎄  🎄  🎄    

Claire surely could say that Christmas time in New York must be wonderful. Even though her mood sunk to the lowest level, she became determined to raise her spirits. God, all those books about positivity and visualization her Mum reads out loud to her should have a hint of truth to them. Right?

The streets were decked with glimmering lights and dazzling displays. The chill in the air burned her cheeks and Claire was swept up into the herd of people like a fluffy sheep in her soft white woolly coat.

Roads were covered in a sparkling powder that made a nostalgic crunchy sound under feet. People were dressed in layers of scarves, cardigans, and warm winter coats. Some held onto hot beverages to warm their hands as well as their bodies. Some brave tourists were sporting red noses just like the one of Rudolph the reindeer Claire had seen in a Macy’s display. Everything was bright and festive. All the Christmas lights twinkled and the colourful signboards reflected off the snow. Christmassy music played from the shops displaying their wares touting them as the perfect gifts. The sounds of Christmas could be heard coming from phones and the passing cars. It was everywhere. Claire softly hummed a tune as her feet followed the crowd leading her to Rockefeller Center. When Claire lifted her head, her heart grew tender with childhood memories. She stood right in front of the huge Christmas tree, adorned with all its lights, the star on top causing Claire to get teary-eyed. She literally felt like a movie character standing here now. Glancing at rosy-cheeked, laughing people on the ice rink, she joined the queue.

“To hell with it.” She could make her own Christmas memories here, alone in NYC.

Claire had to admit she underestimated herself, thinking that skating is like riding a bike. But, she found that it most assuredly wasn't. She tried to keep her legs as steady as possible, trying to get used to gliding on the ice. Holding onto the rail, she wobbled around before she braced herself to finally go into the middle, and actually skate.

She surely thought that she looked like a penguin trying to find its friends, as she awkwardly moved around in the crowd. Occasionally, she squealed and even closed her eyes when particularly fast skaters passed her by. The moment Beauchamp thought she had got it, she pushed harder and began to glide on her skates. Before she knew it, she crashed into someone else. Clenching her fists and closing her eyes before her body hit the ice.

“Jesus. H. Roosevelt Christ!”

Falling down on her bottom, surgeon hissed at the burning feeling of her palms meeting the ice.

“Here, let me help ye.”

After no needed pause, Claire opened her eyes, glancing at the owner of the soft burr. The stranger whose hand was stretched out to help, smiled, a pair of blue eyes studying her intently.

“Thanks.” Giving a faint nod, Claire accepted the man’s hand. A swift pull and she was back on her feet, trapped between the arms of this bloody good looking man.

He was handsome from the depth of his cobalt blue eyes to the gentle tilt in his voice. A face with striking features Claire was sure she likely won’t forget. The strong jaw with a shadow of stubble and lips that took the soft shape of a smile. A scent of expensive cologne swirled around him. And the hair of the brightest red she’d ever seen.

“Yer didna hurt yerself, lass?” The man steadied her with both of his hands firmly on her waist.

Claire’s cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink and she could feel the heat of his touch growing on her skin. Beauchamp dropped her gaze down her feet, mumbling.

“I’m fine. Though it takes some time for the pain to settle in and I can only hope I will be able to walk tomorrow.” She waved her hand in no particular direction but rather in frustration.

The stranger smiled as they awkwardly skated to the rail. Claire glanced at him through her lashes smiling back.

“So yer a Sassenach then.”

“Excuse me?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows, unable to stop looking at him. Damn him, he was attractive.

Her saviour let out a soft laugh.

“Yer English, no?” Besides his remark about her Englishness (Claire figured he was a Scot in mere seconds), his tone was kind. “It means an English person or an outlander.”

“How lovely.” Claire snorted examining her palms.

“I didna mean to offend ye.” He leaned to touch her shoulder gently. It took Claire longer then it should to speak up, the words burning against her dry throat.

“You didn’t.” The surgeon gave him a lopsided smile, stretching out her hand. “I’m Claire. Thanks for saving my arse.”

The Scot barked a laugh and took her hand in his. Claire wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but the way his skin felt upon hers gave her the rush of goosebumps all over it. Did he feel it too?

“I’m Jamie. And I’m more than glad to save such a lovely arse.”

What an eejit, he thought to himself. Who says that to a lass ten minutes after meeting her?

He already opened his mouth to give her a stream of apologies but she bit her lip and the bell of laughter warmed his heart. A Dhia, she was lovely.

Jamie had noticed her almost immediately when she entered the rink. That mass of curls that made her look like a fairy that stepped out the Scottish legends. He had to smile at the lass when she tried to skate (and very badly to his own good luck). Jamie watched her for a while when he could catch a glimpse of her absolutely horrid Christmas jumper and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her arse did not escape his attention either, perfectly round in those leggings.

As they made their way toward the lockers to gather their belongings, he learned she was from London. A surgeon visiting here for a medical conference. And no, she has never been to Edinburgh.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the window, Claire mentally admitted there were times when she had looked better when a man approached her. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her back as she did her shoelaces, slowly she brought her head up, eyes locking with his.

The blue oceans met the whisky rivers. Claire wanted to say that she should go, it’s getting dark, and this day had got the better out of her. But instead, she took a step as if an invisible magnet was pulling her towards him. There was a silence that drowned them both into the abyss of unknown but much-needed connection.

“Jamie, I -” Her tongue, feeling like sandpaper, moved ever so slowly.

She felt hypnotized, barely registering that she started to walk the opposite way to the exit. But the next second, she found herself staring at their linked hands and his eyes travelling to her face.

“Wait, Claire.” Jamie wet his lips, the corners curl into an almost apologetic-like smile. “I ken it might be daft as we just met, but would ye do me the honor of joining me for dinner?"

She glanced at him, with eyes warm like a fine aged scotch.

“I would not mind a company.”

“I ken a perfect spot.” His hand on the small of her back, leading out of the crowd.

                                                   🎄  🎄  🎄

Claire was sure the air crackled with electricity or chemistry (or whatever they call it) as she and Jamie walked through the snowy streets of New York. The roads have been only partially plowed and cleaned. Beauchamp found her legs drowned up to the ankles in the fluffy mass. Jamie carried her over the asphalt where the snow began to turn into mushy puddles from the trampling of an endless stream of pedestrian traffic. Claire giggled as he carried her across each puddle, and felt the tips of her ears turn scarlet red.

The distance between them grew closer and closer until eventually, their shoulders were brushing against each other. She had learned that Jamie was born in the area of Inverness. He had a huge family, a sister and a brother which included many nieces and nephews as well. Claire smiled when she noticed his proud tone when he spoke about his father and the particular tenderness when he mentioned his older sister Jenny. Jamie had worked for the last three years in the US and at 34 years old he was a successful entrepreneur.

Claire mentioned the nomadic lifestyle she lived when she was a child. Her parents worked a lot and she had spent two years travelling with her uncle Lamb. She had a best friend, a Scottish lass named Geillis. Beauchamp liked to read and spend time in the garden with her mum. She sadly recounted that she had made the mistake of getting married only to find herself divorced after four months of the young marriage. Her ex-husband’s name was Frank. The memories made her uncomfortable and she did not want to remember more. Jamie did not ask further, only stating he never married.

“And yer telling me ye have no boyfriend?” Fraser’s hand curled over her delicate shoulder, encouraging Claire (to her own delight) to nestle closer against him. It was such a casual move that she had thought she knew Jamie for ages already. The warmth that was radiating from him rooted deep in her belly and was rising up and up, making her ache at the very core of her being.

“Seeing no one.” Claire shook her head, peeking at him through her lashes. “And how is that my fellow Brit is not with a lassie? ”

Jamie made a sound deep from his chest, something typically Scottish she’d gathered.

“I am with a lassie, and a verra bonnie one, I must say, am I not?” He smirked, though his voice was painted with seriousness.

“Flatterer.” Claire dropped her head, pretending her boots were much more interesting than anything else she’d seen. In truth, it was to hide a smile.

Later their hands merged together, fingers entwining. The strangeness and absolute familiarity of their palms fitting together was something neither of them could explain. Everything seemed to be suspended around them causing the time to become disjointed. Finally, they arrived at their destination.

“Highlands NYC?” Claire read out loud the name of the place Jamie had brought her. “Really? Out of all places in New York, you brought me to Highlander bar?”

The tips of Jamie's ears burned, the red matching his hair. Letting a shaky breath, his lips leaned over to her ear.

“Sassenach, ye should experience Scotland to its fullest.”

That moment Beauchamp went weak in her knees. The raspiness in his voice and… God damn, all of him almost forced her to drag Jamie to the nearest toilet and indeed enjoy one of Scotland's sons to his fullest. She did not.

They sat at the bar since all the tables were booked. The barstools migrated as close as possible for Jamie’s fingers to run freely at the expense on her back, sending goosebumps all over the skin. Her knees accidentally touched his. She laughed, loud and infectious at his stories. Throwing her head all the way back, exposing the pale skin on her neck, placing the blue of her veins in full view. The sight made his cock twitch. She laughed heartily, smacking her palm on his thigh when she found his joke particularly funny. Jamie's breath hitched becoming shallow and broken. She licked her lips. Claire slid her hand over the cold glass containing her cocktail. Her movements were deliberate, slow, down and up over the patterned glass mimicking... What did Geillis say about the unconscious signs?

Fraser shifted in his seat, more than ready to suggest they go somewhere where they find their way to each other. The hot air inside the pub and between them made both ache for each other.

But the food arrived distracting them from their lustful thought. They dined on Haggis dressed in whisky butter, and warm quinoa with crispy spiced chickpeas. They laughed and joked, speaking of this and that learning about each other. As the evening wore on, Claire found her heart beating its way out of her ribcage. She leaned in planting a soft kiss on Jamie's cheek fearful of having to whisper words of parting lying on the tip of her tongue. But she found she was not yet ready to say goodbye yet.

“Would ye like me to walk ye to yer hotel?” His voice was hoarse, scented with the whisky he had drunk. Claire leaned into him whispering:

“Yes.”

They hadn’t said goodbye in front of the hotel. Not in the foyer, either. Certainly not in the lift. As they stood in front of each other surrounded by glass cubicle she moved first.

Before he knew it Jamie’s mouth was claimed by hers. Chest heaving and gasping for air, both parted and stared at each other until the lift announced their destination with a soft Ding.

Claire’s hands shook, the room card almost slipping out of her sweaty palms. The second her feet entered the room, Jamie had pulled her closer by the waist. The lengths of the bodies pressing, Claire’s cheeks flaming hot. He breathed heavily as he left a trail of burning kisses down the column of her neck.

“Christ, I want ye.”

Cupping her arse Jamie’s lips traveled up, taking her bottom lip between his. She smiled against his mouth, hands pulling at his nape, closer and closer, until the kiss could actually hurt. She could feel the length of him, hard and ready through his jeans and it made her almost blind with animal-like want.

“Take this off,” Claire whispered pulling at the hem of his shirt. Aching for him became powerful to the point where she could not bother unbuttoning his shirt, Claire just yanked the soft material over his head.

She could swear she heard him growl when her sweater followed the same destination as Jamie’s shirt and landed into the fabric puddle on the floor. No bra in the way, Jamie did not hesitate to kiss his way down Claire’s cleavage, stopping for the thorough exploration of each breast. Her mouth dropped open in a silent plea when his lips captured the nipple. Almost burning with the heat that grew between her thighs and made her belly ache, Claire reached down, to unbuckle his jeans. Tongues danced, lips bitten surely to swell come the morning, teeth raking over the soft skin of the neck. Pulling the leggings with underwear to her ankles Jamie definitely left blueish trails where his fingers pressed. But it was a delicious feeling that bordered with painful pleasure. They stumbled upon the bed, falling into it, a suppressed laugh emerging between their mouths. Gently but firmly Jamie had pushed Claire flat on her back, letting his hand trace the invisible paths all the way from the high hills of her neck, down to the valley between her breasts, the plain expanses of her belly, all the way down to the hidden secrets between her thighs.

She moaned into his lips when his fingers had found her apex between her thighs. His bold caresses drew sighs, moans, and keening that he longed to hear. With the right pace and rhythm he drew those sounds out of her. Claire’s curls flew all over the white pillow. Air! She needed air and began to take deep lungfuls. Writhing as the sweet torture continued, Claire took large fistfuls of linens as an anchor. Arching into his hand, she had lost all the train of coherent thoughts.

“Jamie…” Gasping for air burning hot in her throat, she finally broke into the million atoms finding herself thousands of light-years later, breathing heavily, the sweat trickling down her nape.

“Ye’re so beautiful when ye become undone.” Jamie murmured, lips pressing a soft kiss at her brow.

Still shaking Claire reached between them finding a condom and gladly placed it on him. She’d found herself again in Jamie’s embrace. Still, she kissed him hungrily with the remnants of her own satisfaction yet to fade, asking for more. Jamie did not need much encouragement and with the slightest nod of her head, guided himself into her. The sudden, hot sensation of him made Claire throw her head back. Seized lungs could not produce any coherent sound. As Jamie’s hips moved fast into her, reaching that right spot, again and again, she could only cling to him for dear life. When Jamie’s own breathing became slow and shuddering, it wasn't clear where he began and she ended. The world expanded beyond itself. It grew into a million colourful stars shining brightly around them.

Well into the night, as Claire slept, he drew tender paths with his fingers mapping the lines and valleys of her body.

Later she awoke from her sweet slumber by the quiet rustle next to her. Jamie sat upright, hands roaming on the floor in the search of his underwear and jeans. For some reason, it bitterly stung. Claire slowly brought her hand up, gently touching his back.

“Please stay.”

                                                 🎄  🎄  🎄

Claire was sure it’s all had been a dream. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and in ten minutes her mother will call her downstairs to help start making dinner preparations. The brussels sprouts and mashed potatoes are not going to cook themselves. Her still sleepy mind started registering unusual noisy traffic outside, quite the opposite of the calm London neighbourhood where her parents lived. She turned to her side, eyes still tightly shut. Claire wasn’t sure now if she wanted to open her eyes and find herself home (where she so desperately wanted to be just twenty-four hours ago) or to wake up to the reality of finding one particular Scot next to her?

The mattress felt unfamiliar and too comfy. Her old bed in Beauchamps house surely did not feel that way. Moreover, the heat radiating from her left side was more likely from a person than the furnace. Claire’s eyes snapped open and she had to blink several times to get used to the bright sun, bouncing off the snowy scenery outside.

“Weel, hello to ye, sleeping beauty. I was afraid ye’d been cursed and would never wake.” Jamie rolled onto his belly, propping himself on the elbow. “Though it’s rather a nice sight to observe”

He ran his fingers down the line of Claire’s jaw before leaning in to kiss her.

“So you’re not a dream.” She smiled and pulled the blanket up higher than her waist, suddenly feeling shy. “What’s this?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion as Jamie fished his phone out, nodding to the screen.

“I don’t understand.”

“Ye’re going home, Sassenach.” He chuckled, feeling quite proud that he’d managed to find them both tickets to Edinburgh this evening. Jamie rather never did say out loud the price he paid but the look on Claire’s face was worth much more than that.

“Bloody hell!” She squealed, not believing her eyes. “How can I ever repay you?”

Jamie smiled when her hands wrapped around his neck.

"Love me some more, Sassenach.”

[alitaimagines]

character: EMIL NEKOLA - Yuri on Ice 

song recommendation: butterfly’s repose - zabawa 

note: this depression episode last nearly two months. I can’t believe it lasted THAT fucking long. I’m ashamed and feel like I should crawl in a hole to apologize. while writing this imagine, I lowkey made the realization that the Crispino twins are literally those Russian twins from Shake It Up. 

“Sara, I’m tired, can I please just go back to bed?” you asked her while she dragged you to the ice rink, “nope! I promised Michele I’d be here at eight and since we’re competing in a few months, we need all the practice we can get,” she explained. 

you dramatically started to fake cry as she ushered you to the locker rooms, “can we at least get coffee? I haven’t drank any all day!” you exclaimed making Sara role her eyes, “relax, we’ll only be here an hour which give us enough time to do our routines a few times before you get cranky.” 

you begrudgingly went to your locker and put on your skates. you knew you had meet Michele here and if you were to guess, Emil would be right alongside with him. 

you and Emil had a small past with each other. not many people knew that the two of you had dated once but when both of your skating careers took off, the break up became inevitable and the two of you broke it off. from what Sara had told you, Emil never got another girlfriend after that and all of your pictures with him were still on his Insta page. 

Emil had been one of the best boyfriends you had ever had so once the two of you broke up, she had to comfort you on the days you came crying to her. 

“do you know if Emil is coming with him?” you asked her. she gave you a small smile, “I know they were bunking in the same room together so assumedly yeah, he might be with him,” she admitted. you didn’t bother to give her a response but she could tell you felt bittersweet about it.

Michele and Sara were on the same page when it came to the both of you. mostly everyone was. they knew it was a matter of time before the two of you would get back together. 

you grabbed your headphones from your gym bag and told Sara you’d meet her in the rink. the competition in Barcelona was only a few months away and since the both of you qualified for it in March, the past few months were dedicated to practicing all day and all night. 

the rink you and Sara were using was closed off to the public for the weekend as they knew a lot of pro ice skaters were in town for different press events. it came off as a surprise when Sara had told you that Michele booked a flight later than hers considering he was attached at her hip but you figured that he must’ve caught the same flight with Emil.

the mens competition was also being held in Barcelona which you had heard that both Michele and Emil had qualified for. you were happy for Emil but the feeling of seeing him more often made you feel some type of way. 

“wow, you’re wearing Emil’s sweater, how convenient,” Sara joked as you immediately looked down to see that you were in fact wearing his sweater. it was one from his previous competitions as the huge Czech flag was slapped on the side of the right sleeve and his last name was on the back, “I seriously didn’t even realize I was wearing it. I’ve gotten used to wearing sweaters he used to leave at my place that they more or less became mine,” you said rapidly.

Sara put her hand on your shoulder, “relax, I was joking. I’m sure Emil is going to freak out if he sees it but enough of that! you can take one side of the rink and I’ll take the other?” you nodded as you skated towards the right side of the rink. 

it was easily distinguishable that they had just used the rink for a hockey game which was a bonus for the skaters. you popped in the headphones and clicked on the mix you were planning on skating too. 

Sara was on the other end of the rink already skating by the time you started. for a few minutes, your mind was completely scatterbrained on the thought of Emil until you realized that you were completely messing up your routine. you were sure that if your coach had seen you, she would have screamed at you by now. 

what was supposed to be an hour felt like fifteen minutes when you looked up at the clock again. Sara had been chugging down her water when you skated to her.  

“god, this routine might actually kill me,” you huffed before chugging your own water, “SARA!” you heard a familiar voice scream. Sara instantly seen you stiffen up as you both heard Emil’s voice and Michele telling him to quiet down. 

the two of you locked eyes for a moment before looking away from each other, “I’m going to take my skates off and I’ll meet you in the lobby in five?” Sara nodded as the three of them watched you leave. 

“how awkward,” Sara joked. Emil remained quiet making the twins a bit concerned about him, “you okay Emil?” she asked. 

he didn’t respond for a few moments, “she’s wearing my sweater,” he muttered. 

the twins looked at each other knowing there was only two possible outcomes for tonight. one of them being that the two of you would get back together and other would be you ditching them because of Emil. however, it didn’t go unnoticed by Emil in your sudden change of physical features. your hairstyle was different, the color was different but your outfit stayed very much the same. 

you took a terrible amount of time putting on your shoes again that by the time you walked out, Michele had begun complaining that you were taking too long. 

“god Michele, patience is a virtue, you know?” you scolded making Emil and Sara laugh, “so, where are we getting breakfast? I’m hungry and I want to eat and go back to sleep,” you told them. 

Sara shook her head, “all you do is eat and sleep. isn’t there other things you like to do?” she asked rhetorically. you couldn’t help but laugh, “nope. I have no boyfriend, outside of you and Michele, I have no friends, and my only hobby is skating so no, I don’t like to do other things.” 

this time it was Sara’s turn to dramatically roll her eyes as all four of you found a small restaurant by the hotel all the skaters were staying at. you noticed how silent it was and how much it would increase the awkwardness between you and Emil. 

“hi, how many?” the waitress asked. Sara gave the girl a smile, “four,” she mentioned as she ushered all of you to a table outside in the small patio. 

it felt like an eternity when finally someone spoke up. you noticed a few fans coming towards the table.

“hi! you’re ( your name ), right?” one of the boys asked. you nodded as the girl he was with smiled at you, “do you think we can get a photo with you?” he asked. you nodded as Sara offered to take the photo. 

you stood in between the boy and the girl as Sara took the photo. once you released the two of them, the boy looked up at you with a smirk, “are you single?” he asked suddenly. that made everyone instantly look at you. 

you stood uncomfortably for a moment, “uh, yeah, why?” you asked awkwardly, “can I take you out on a date?” he said with such confidence that it made you feel a little bad that you were going to deny him, “I’m sorry but I don’t date fans. I appreciate the compliment however,” you tried to say as nicely as possible. 

you could tell that the girl he was with was his sister as she stood there, mortified, “Luke, let’s go! I’m so sorry for that,” she exclaimed before dragging her brother away. 

as soon as you looked over to everyone, they couldn’t help but laugh at your embarrassed expression. “shut up, it wasn’t funny,” you muttered before looking down at your menu. 

you discreetly looked at Emil who had a bit of an annoyed expression written on his face. you didn’t bother to give it a second thought as you assumed that he was annoyed with something Michele or Sara did. 

after breakfast was over and you managed to get away from the three of them, you went to your hotel room and sprawled on the bed before yelling into your pillow. 

for a few hours, you remained in bed, hugging your pillow and trying to calm yourself down. “this is such bullshit,” you screamed into the pillow again before hearing a knock on your door. you immediately stood up, wiped your stray tears, and walked up to the door before looking into the peep.

it was Emil. 

you immediately looked at yourself through the small mirror they had and tried to fix your hair but the puffy look on your face didn’t go away. you slowly opened the door and seen Emil looking at you. 

the two of you remained silent before he gave you a smile, “hey,” he whispered, “may I come in?” you nodded, fully opening the door and letting him in. 

“what do you need?” you asked quietly as both of you sat on the table, “just wanted to say hello. you were really quiet at breakfast and wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admitted. 

you nodded, “I’m fine, thank you for checking in on me,” you managed to say. the music you had playing before he arrived didn’t really help the very somber feeling in the room.

“cause, I’m right here, darling, I’m right here. close your pretty eyes, my butterfly. baby, have no fear.”  

you had no idea what triggered your tears again but before you knew it, you were crying into Emil’s arms as he tried calming you down. “it’s okay, don’t cry,” he tried to comfort you. 

you pushed yourself out of his arms as he tried to hold your hand. 

“no Emil, it’s not okay,” you exasperated, “I thought I was over you but here you are, coming into my life like it’s okay, and now I’m back in the same stage I was in when you first broke up with me.” 

Emil wanted to interject but decided to let you keep talking, “I don’t know what gives you the right to come back into my life and act like we didn’t have a past with each other. I don’t understand why you’re even in my room! are you here to make me feel like shit?” you continued. 

he brought you in for another embrace and this time you wanted to push him away again but you didn’t bother too. his hug was warm, inviting, and frankly, you had missed them. 

“I’m here because I want you back,” Emil confessed. you immediately retracted yourself before giving him a surprising look, “wait, what?” you asked rhetorically. 

Emil grabbed your hand, even going as far as getting on his knee before looking at you, “I want you back. I know for a fact that we never truly got over each other and I think it’s ridiculous that we’re not together knowing we still like each other.” 

you stayed silent, waiting to see if he would continue what he was saying, “I wanted to give you this while we were still together but we broke up and I never got the chance to present it to you,” he said. 

Emil dug into his pocket and pulled out something that looked like an engagement ring, “I’m not proposing but I’m promising you. this time, we’ll go all the way. I wanted to give it to you on our year and a half anniversary but you can see why I never did,” you couldn’t help but gawk at the promise ring he was holding. 

“this ring is my promise that we will get married,” he continued, “not now or anytime soon but we will. you have every right to deny it but I knew today was now or never.”

you stayed quiet making Emil petrified that you were going to deny him. you hadn’t fully processed what he was telling you until he put the ring into his pocket and got up to leave. 

“Emil!” you yelled as you got up and ran to him. he looked at you before catching you for another hug, “yes, I’ll accept it,” you replied as you gave him a kiss. he smiled in between kisses as he got the ring out of his pocket and slipped it on your middle finger. 

once the two of you broke away, he wiped the stray tears you had running down your face before putting his forehead on yours, “I never stopped loving you, you know that?” he whispered as you nodded, “neither did I,” you said. 

the two of you stayed looking at each other for a few moments before you brought him in for another kiss. 

ALITA 

[yuuri-katsuki-is-a-bottom]

YOI AU where everything is the same except Victor and Yuuri are so destined to be together that they spontaneously and single handedly spawn soulmates into existence. The universe or god or fate or all of the above sees these two losers find each other in nearly every possible version of reality and says “damn, they gotta hook up here too” and goes all out to make it happen. Victor and Yuuri both have multiple soulmate signifiers, but since soulmates didn’t exist until Victor (and later, Yuuri) was born, they have no idea what any of it means.

Victor is born colorblind with a small birthmark shaped like half a snowflake on his hip and the phrase “Be my coach Victor” scrawled along the inside of his thigh in shaky Japanese characters. His parents don’t recognize it as writing, and resolve to ignore their son’s weird birthmarks. They never even consider that it might be saying something. Victor, when he’s old enough to wonder and has a few years of international experience under his belt, copies down the characters as best he can and decides to get it translated the next time he’s in Japan. When he finds out his birthmark is actually a demand for coaching that identifies him by name, he’s very confused, and wonders if maybe his parents had it tattooed onto him when he was a baby? Perhaps they were drunk? They’re not around to ask anymore, of course, but that’s the only explanation he can think of. Surely this mark isn’t natural. Eventually, he chalks it up to yet another thing he’ll never know about his family, and does his best to put it out of his mind. Some days, though--his worst days--he can’t help absently rubbing the mark on his thigh. Whenever he does, he gets an odd, phantom weight deep within his chest. It feels like happiness and light and hope and everything beautiful and pure in the world. Later, when hope and happiness is sorely lacking in Victor’s life, that phantom weight is sometimes all that gets him through the day.

Yuuri is also born colorblind with a snowflake and words on his body, but that’s where the similarities end. Where Victor’s half snowflake is tiny and almost unnoticeable even against his pale skin, Yuuri’s takes up the entirety of his back. It’s loud and in your face and Yuuri spends most of his life trying to avoid situations where anybody might see it. His words, written in elegant Cyrillic, loop around his right wrist and trail up his arm. Unlike Victor’s parents, Yuuri’s are very curious and concerned about the strange markings on their newborn son. They also recognize the writing as letters, though they don’t quite fit the English letters they learned in school and mostly kept up with in case of any international tourists. They don’t have many resources, but eventually they find out it’s in Russian and get it translated. The words “A commemorative photo Sure” make absolutely no sense to them, and they begin to fear for their son. They never quite get over the way that mark in particular bothers them, and it’s something young Yuuri picks up on. Unconsciously, he tries his best to hide his words as best he can as well, and never mention them around his parents. When he gets older and discovers Victor and spends his tween years going through a Russia obsession phase, he notes the similarities between the flowing script on his wrist and the strange, almost-English-but-not-quite letters that adorn all the original versions of Victor’s posters and other assorted merchandise and marketing. He’s too scared to try and translate them, but he holds onto them tightly as a talisman that, maybe, this means he’ll meet Victor someday (which incidentally means he’s the first person in the world to come close to figuring out what soulmate marks are) and, for the first time in his life, he isn’t ashamed of them. He finds himself touching the words often, even if he’s sometimes brought to tears by a sense of deep, nearly soul crushing loneliness when he does. It’s a feeling he’s familiar with, but it’s also foreign, and sometimes when he’s having a particularly bad anxiety attack, focusing on a feeling that doesn’t feel like his own is enough to calm him down faster than he would be able to manage alone.

The first time Yuuri and Victor’s eyes meet isn’t the first time they speak, and the first time they speak (”A commemorative photo? Sure.”) isn’t the first time they both speak to each other (Be my coach, Victor!”), thereby thwarting, in one meeting, pretty much the entire point of every single one of their soulmate signifiers. Still, their destiny is to be together and nothing, not even the boys themselves, can stand in the way of that. Later on, when a drunk Yuuri stumbles up to Victor and looks him in the eyes, the world explodes with color for the first time. Victor is so surprised he almost misses the slurred words spilling from Yuuri’s mouth. Almost. He spends the rest of the night in awe of the sexy, drunken nymph who literally brought light into his world. He’s also, for the first time in his life (or at least since he was so young he can no longer remember) feels those phantom feelings without touching his words at all, though this time they finally feel natural, like they’re actually his. He’s not sure what it all means, but he’s not a stupid man. He knows it means something. And now that he’s found Yuuri, he never wants to let him go. When Yuuri disappears after the banquet, he’s devastated, and over the next few weeks the only thing that keeps him from falling into despair is touching his words. They still fill him with phantoms of happiness and light and hope, but they’re also a physical reminder that he’s supposed to meet Yuuri. That he was always supposed to meet Yuuri, even before the other man was born, which is slightly scary but even more reassuring. Yuuri is meant to be in his life. He refuses to believe he was born with these marks and made to live nearly three decades seeing the world in shades of grey just to have one drunken night dancing with his Yuuri. (Incidentally, this makes Victor the second person to come close to figuring out what soulmarks mean, though he’s much closer to the truth than Yuuri)

Yuuri, on the other hand, wakes up in his underwear in his hotel room and has absolutely no idea why he can suddenly see color. Eventually, once he’s done throwing up from a mix of sixteen glasses of champagne and suddenly seeing every color in the world after just over two decades of half-thinking colors were something people made up to mess with him, he decides that he must have smacked his head on something during his bender. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Despite his shame at his FS, his grief over Vicchan, and his embarrassment at the thought that someone might have seen him before he managed to get back to his room and pass out, he can’t help spending his entire trip home scrolling through Victor’s Instagram and re-watching every Victor video he can find. Experiencing them in full living color is almost like discovering Victor for the first time all over again and, at least until he gets home and is once again reminded of Vicchan and his failure in Sochi, his entire body feels like it’s made of joy and wonder.

After Victor shows back up in Yuuri’s life, he very quickly makes the last connection: Yuuri has a snowflake that matches his perfectly, aside from the size, and those words on Yuuri’s wrist strike a chord and he remembers (with a small twinge of shame that he didn’t recognize this beautiful man in front of him as the skater whose musicality and step sequences had begun to waken corners of Victor’s soul he thought long since buried and gone as he watched his SP in Sochi) that those are the very first words he’d even spoken to Yuuri. He’s even more certain now that this means Yuuri is meant to be with him. Literally every single great mystery of his birth has the same answer: Yuuri. He has no idea why Yuuri refuses to mention the banquet, and he has a few moments of panic when he thinks, marks or no marks, Yuuri will never want him in the ways he’s coming to realize he needs Yuuri, but every time that happens Yuuri will say ( “I want you to stay who you are, Viktor!” ) or do (pulling him close, demanding his attention) something to renew and reaffirm Victor’s hope and conviction.

Yuuri, for his part, never actually sees any of Victor’s marks until after they kiss in China, mostly because he spends every second where Victor’s hips and thighs are exposed desperately trying not to look at those very areas, lest he explode (in every possible connotation of the word). Once he gives himself permission to look, he’s utterly floored. Victor shares his birthmark? And those words on his thigh written in what almost looks like his sloppy handwriting when he’s nervous or drunk... Be my coach, Victor. Did this mean that Victor had always wanted to be a coach? So much that he had the request tattooed into his skin? Or was this something he’d had since birth, like the Cyrillic on Yuuri’s wrist? (He still can’t bring himself to translate those words, now more than ever. What if they say that Victor hates him? What if they tell him to let him go? He can’t deal with that; with knowing they have real meaning to his life while also telling him to get rid of the one person who had always given his life meaning. Ironic, considering how close Yuuri almost comes to doing that very thing on his own anyway)

Once the’re finally together, and engaged (with rings that match their snowflakes, no less), and all misunderstandings are cleared up and they’re both looking forward to their future as skater and coach-and-skater and husband and husband (after he wins Victor his gold medal, of course, and oh how Victor will come to regret that particular bit of word vomit in the months to come), they finally talk about the marks. Victor shares what his meant to him over the years, and Yuuri does the same. Yuuri tells him that, even though he doesn’t remember asking, the feelings Victor describes when he touches Yuuri’s request on his skin sounds an awful lot like the way Victor’s skating had always made Yuuri feel mixed with how Yuuri feels when he’s drunk. Victor, in turn, opens up about the loneliness and isolation that were ingrained in his daily life when he so thoughtlessly offered Yuuri a photo with his empty smile. They come to the conclusion that, embedded within each of their words, are also the feelings that the other person was experiencing while saying them (when they said them, when they would say them). They also come to the conclusion that this means they were always meant to be together, that their shared marks and colorblindness was given to them so that they’d know when they finally met their other half. (Incidentally, this means that they both are the first people in the world to discover what soulmarks mean, though only a very select few will ever learn this and even fewer will believe it)

As they reaffirm their love for each other, the universe or god or fate or whatever looks on and thinks “this actually worked out pretty well for a beta test. With a bit of tweaking, I wonder what would happen if we did a full roll out?”

And so, on the day after Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov discover soulmates together, the entire population of the world wake up either colorblind, with one half of a complete mark, or with the first words someone out there will ever speak to them somewhere on their body (along with a few other variations that get patched in later for variety), all of them completely unaware that the love between two silly male figure skaters was transcendent enough to will the entire concept of soulmates into existence.