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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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17 going on 27

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

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March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you excited for prom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong, Kook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lips locked, kissing Jennie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we dating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much has changed in the past ten years.

“Hey, can you please stop crying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But we’ve always been different people.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jennie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it hits you.

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

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what?

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To a park where you’re not in!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, the car drives itself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t leave.

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”

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

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

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

“Do you have work?” you ask casually.

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is wrong with you?

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

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

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it now, Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry for what?”

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

“Well why are you upset at yourself?”

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

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

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

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

“Five-hundred a week?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, who are your models?”

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

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

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

“I’m not modeling.”

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

“Partners.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe, everything alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!”

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

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

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

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.”

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You little–”

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

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

“Why are we here?”

“For research purposes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have to?”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bun, be careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounded oddly sexual.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Needless to say, the issue is yours.

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

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

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

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

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half.

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I want to break up.”

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

“What?” he wilts, “why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things change.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to lose you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Good night, Kook.”

“Good night, Bun.”

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

Some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oui, oui.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst

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simp-for-mha-men · 4 years ago

Note

25 + hc for Aizawa Bakugo and hawks? If u do only 1 character per request pls do Aizawa on this one cuz it would be funny I think lol

Writing Weekend Prompt List is pinned on my page!

25. “Did you just slap my ass?”

HEADS UP! There’s a couple suggestive things. Enjoy!

Aizawa 🖤:

• You’re playing with fire the second you start dating this man

• In the middle of the night or directly after a nap, he will wake up and be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (or as much as his body permits) or super out of it

• When he’s more awake, you can expect soft cuddles, forehead kisses, and hand holding

• HOWEVER, this man is so ridiculous when he’s tired that it’s either hilarious or really attractive

• I headcanon that in his U.A. days, he would sometimes call Hizashi in the middle of the night to go off about the classes he was hating, and Hizashi would just sit there thinking about how Aizawa never talks this much when he’s fully awake

• Now, when Aizawa’s out of sorts, he loves to slap your ass and thighs

• It never fails to make you blush like a maniac, which causes him to tease you to no end

• Sometimes, it leads to some questionable actions (if you get what I mean), but it works tried and true every single time

A soft slap came across your backside as you bent down to get the milk out of the fridge for your morning coffee. A low whistle followed soon after, signaling the next few events that were about to go down.

“Did you just slap my ass?” you asked, glancing back at your boyfriend with innocent eyes.

“What if I did?” he mumbled in reply, rubbing the area he just slapped.

A much harsher spank soon followed, causing you to yelp out of surprise. Aizawa chuckled and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Come on, kitty cat,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “Come back to bed so I can get a couple more love pats in.”

Who were you to pass that opportunity up?

Bakugou 🧡:

• Ok, first of all this man makes me act up (too much)

• He is such a hot-headed bimbo sometimes, so I think he only slaps your ass when he gets jealous

• This man will also do it anywhere: a café, a restaurant, a movie theater, a party, a store, etc.

• It especially applies when it’s somewhere with his friends

• Bakugou giving you attention is the highlight of every day, so whenever you want to get that kind of attention, you’ll purposely make him jealous

• The best way to do it is to flirt with someone, but don’t flirt with a random guy

• If you want to hit him where it hurts, flirt with someone he knows

• Denki, Sero, and Kirishima are prime targets, but I think you know which one earns you the best slap

“The new shade of red dye you used really matches your costume, Kiri!” you commented, making sure you were loud enough to attract your boyfriend’s attention.

The music came to a pause before the next song began, and in that moment of silence, a harsh smack could be heard at the U.A. reunion.

“Did you just slap my ass?” you asked, turning around to meet the fiery gaze of your boyfriend.

“I’m leaving,” Kirishima states, coughing in embarrassment. “See you around, Bakubro. Don’t be too hard on (y/n).”

Once he was out of earshot, the music seemed louder. Bakugou lowered himself to your level, allowing you to feel his hot breath on your face.

“Oh, you’re in for it now, dumbass,” he growled. “We’re leaving. Trust me, they won’t miss us.”

How could you deny him when he was so fired up?

Hawks ❤️:

• Let me start this whole part off with a scientific red-tail hawk fact

• Red-tailed hawks mate for life and are extremely territorial (take that into consideration as much as you wish)

• Hawks is the kind of guy who thrives off of PDA

• One of his favorite things to show that you’re his is putting his hand in your back pocket or resting his hand on your ass

• I headcanon he is a MAJOR simp (I mean, the way he looks up to Endeavor screams fanboy)

• He worships the ground you walk on and considers your ass sacred, so the only time he slaps it is in private when he wants to compliment you

• Whether he slaps it so you stop hating it or because you feel good in a particular outfit, you love it either way

• It makes you feel wanted, special, and even more in love with the beautiful bird

“Well, what do we have here?” Hawks asked, eyeing you up and down.

You had just gotten a new pair of jeans and were absolutely in love with them. You loved them because they made you feel like a model, which was just one of their many perks. Your boyfriend loved them because they accentuated your sexy ass.

Showing just how much he loved it, Hawks walked over and smacked it. He relished in the way it jiggled just a bit, and you loved the attention.

“Did you just slap my ass?” you chuckled, glancing over to your boyfriend.

“Of course I did, kid,” he replied, walking over to wrap his arms around your waist. “I love every part of your body, especially that sweet ass.”

How could you disagree with his opinion?

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popculty · 2 years ago

Text

Queer as Folk Horror: A Two-Part Crossover Podcast Episode

We really put the ‘cult’ in Popculty with this one... 👑🐻🔥😶

In a very special crossover episode, Carver Casey of the Spooky & Gay podcast joins me to slice and dice our favorite (and not-so-favorite) horror movies. We talk queer horror classics, the genre as allegory, and turn a queer lens on some A24 faves to answer the burning (heh) questions:

Ari Aster: Auteur or just another white guy? (Maybe both?)

Is Midsommar actually good, or is Florence Pugh just INCREDIBLE? (Maybe both!)

Hereditary: Transmasculine allegory or transphobic trash? (Maybe...just the latter.)

🎧 Listen to Part 1 now, and follow The Popculty Podcast to get Part 2 as soon as it drops!

Part 1 transcript below 👇

SJ: [sings] Spooky and gay, spooky and gay, spooky and gay, with Carver and SJ! [normal voice] Hey, Carver!

Carver Casey: [laughs] Hi! How are you, SJ?

SJ: I'm super excited to do this crossover episode! I don't think either of us have done one on our respective shows, right?

Carver: Absolutely, this is our first crossover.

SJ: And also, I was just realizing, this will be the first episode that's, like, all trans... And that makes me really happy. [both laugh] Listeners, you are in for a treat, because you will hear no cis-splaining in this episode.

Carver: It's a guarantee.

SJ: It's just going to be us awesome non-binary folks talking about horror movies! Which is not something that I typically talk about on my podcast, although you certainly do on yours. Do you want to introduce yourself to the Popculty audience?

Carver: I'm Carver Casey. I am one-half of the Spooky & Gay with Carver & Jay podcast, where ALL we talk about is horror. [laughs]

SJ: It's great. I love the title.

Carver: Thank you, thank you.

SJ: And I really enjoy the podcast. I would say it's gotten me interested in horror again, honestly. Horror is not really a genre that I pay a lot of attention to. It's in the periphery, and I'll go see, you know, your Get Out, your Jennifer's Body, love that kind of stuff. But it has to really permeate the mainstream, or what people are talking about, for me to really want to see a horror movie. But yeah, I would say your podcast kind of got me interested in it again and looking at it from a different perspective. So that's been fun.

Carver: I'm so glad to hear that. I think that's definitely one of the things that Jay and I wanted to do coming into this. Queer folks are often excluded from these communities. And there is a thriving and interesting and vibrant queer horror community that I love sharing with other people. I was gonna say, we have also been loving your podcast. I caught up on the Black Widow episode, which threw me on a whole Florence Pugh kick--

SJ: [excitedly] Oh!

Carver: I had my roommate watching Fighting With My Family--

SJ: Yas!

Carver: We're on a whole professional wrestling kick at my house now. [laughs]

SJ: All right! And I am responsible... [sighs dramatically] I feel honored. [Carver laughs] That is awesome to hear, because I am very much on my own Florence Pugh kick, which is actually why I really wanted to talk about Midsommar. Like 80% of it is because of Florence Pugh. [both laugh] So I'm really glad we're on the same page there--

Carver: Yes.

SJ: --because I am going to geek out about her so much when we get to Midsommar.

Carver: Glad to hear it.

SJ: So for Spooky & Gay listeners, I am SJ. I host the Popculty Podcast, which is pop culture with a 'y', both in spelling and in mission, where we highlight the stories being told by and about women, LGBTQ+ folks, people of color and those with disabilities. I thought we could just start off by talking a little bit more about our own personal relationships with horror. Do you want to tell us about your horror journey? How did you get into it, what's appealing to you, what's your history with it?

Carver: I come from a horror family. From as long as I can remember-- Like, the first movie that I have any memory of seeing any part of is Rocky Horror Picture Show. When Frank-N-Furter pulls the tablecloth off, and you know that they're eating Eddie for dinner, that's literally the first image of film that I have a memory of. I would be the kid sitting on the couch with a blanket pulled over my head, crying, so afraid of what I could see through my fingers on the TV, which was literally next to nothing. And as I got older, and I had the opportunity to sort of catch these films and see myself in them, as a queer person, as a closeted, egg-uncracked trans person, seeing people facing odds and being really beat down upon by these forces that were out of their control, I could see myself overcoming them, because I saw these characters overcoming these unimaginable things. You know, all I have to do is go to high school; this person is fighting a dream demon! Like, I don't have to do that. [laughs]

SJ: I love that. I love that horror films were like an escape for you, and also, I think the way you put it last time we talked was, "an exercise in being brave."

Carver: It absolutely is. You know, you see these things, and you're volunteering to have something larger than life, something oppressive, and interact with it. You can turn it off at any time. You don't have to interact, you can stop, you can not put it on. And so, by putting it on, sitting through, confronting this thing that you're afraid of, it gives you the wherewithal to be able to do that when you're encountering things you're afraid of in your real life.

SJ: That's such an interesting way to look at it. You literally have control over it-- you have *remote control*--

Carver: Mm-hmm!

SJ: --over a horror movie. And that can help you kind of prime yourself for those experiences in real life, which yeah, as queer people, as trans people, we are much more likely to encounter in the real world. I love that framing.

Carver: I know you said that this is usually a genre that you don't break into very often. Were there ever any standouts for you, throughout your life? And maybe some of those that you've revisited that you're like, 'Oh, this has a whole new meaning to me now'?

SJ: Yeah, actually, it's funny you ask, because just this past week, in thinking about our conversation and preparing for it, I was just thinking about my history with horror... Like I say, I didn't grow up with it. The extent of my exposure to the genre was one time, one of my uncle's put on a Chucky movie and scared the shit out of me, and I had nightmares forever, because I was too young. [laughs] I know you really love Chucky, and that's actually apparently a very queer TV series now. Love that evolution for Chucky. But, I mean, that just terrified me as a child, and I really avoided it for many years. I would go long periods throughout my life without watching any horror movies. I just never really felt compelled to scare myself like that. And I already have an anxiety disorder. Honestly, my brain is scary enough, and I just didn't feel the need to, like, add onto that shit-pile. [laughs drily] And so yeah, I just kind of avoided it for a while. But over the years, I have dipped my toe in more and more, and I've found that I don't scare easily at all anymore-- it takes a lot to scare me-- but I tend to go for the socially-conscious stuff, or horror comedy, that kind of thing. If I'm going to dip my toe in it at all, it kind of has to have a purpose. I hate slash-y, gory, just for gore's sake, kind of stuff.

Carver: Yeah.

SJ: The first time I had a real appreciation for horror was in college, I audited a couple of Film night-courses. One of them was looking at horror as it was used in various social justice movements, which was really, really interesting. And that was the first time that I had an actual appreciation for horror. Before that, I just thought it was base, not for me, just blood and guts, and didn't have much meaning, right? But in this class, we looked at Night of the Living Dead, you know, and how that is such a great race allegory. And we looked at Freaks-- that movie from, I want to say, the 1930s-- which critiques how people with disabilities were looked at by society. And then we did a unit on gender and sexuality, and the movie we watched for that was High Tension. Do you know this movie?

Carver: Yeah, I know High Tension. I haven't watched it yet--

SJ: [excitedly] Ohhh!

Carver: --I'm saving it for a very special day for myself. But I do know the plot, I know what happens. Spoilers don't ruin a movie for me, ever.

SJ: For listeners who don't know, this is a 2003 French slasher movie. It kind of made waves at the time it came out. It's pretty well known...

Carver: It defines a genre, French Extremity.

SJ: There you go. So, you know how it ends? Okay, I'm not going to fully spoil it for our listeners, just in case they want to go in blind. But when I watched this movie for the first time in that college class, I wasn't sure what I was watching, and I was not beginning to interrogate my gender at that point. So it kind of went over my head as just a slasher movie. I rewatched it last week, and it really hit me in a way that it didn't hit me on my first watch. And I feel like I appreciate it much better knowing the ending, because everything clicks into place. And also watching it from a trans perspective, it's just-- For me, High Tension is probably... I mean, you asked what horror movies have ever resonated with me? I would say, this, for me, is like, the pinnacle of queer transmasculine allegory and exploration. And the whole time I was rewatching it this past week, I was just like, 'Oh my god.' Baby-me had no idea, but now, I'm just so glad this movie exists. And I do think that knowing how it ends will actually give you a better experience of it. So I'm really excited for you to watch this eventually, one day. I think it's a really interesting movie. It is gory-- It's a slasher movie, there's some fucked-up stuff in it, for sure. But wow, I...

Carver: We nearly covered it last Valentine's Day on Spooky & Gay...

SJ: Ugh!

Carver: This close.

SJ: You gotta let me know when you watch it, and when you do that episode, 'cause...

Carver: Would love to hear what you have to say on it.

SJ: Maybe that could be our next crossover episode. [laughs]

Carver: Absolutely. [laughs]

SJ: That'd be so good! That'd be so good. Yeah, so that's my horror journey. And that's the big movie that comes to mind for me.

Carver: I find it really interesting that that particular movie is one that got to you, just knowing that it is such a violent, gory movie, that many people did write off as being just a blood-and-guts movie. That's a lot of what people said about it, and so I love that it was able to speak to your own personal experience in a way that was really...touching, right?

SJ: Yeah, it surprised me, to be honest. Because it's the exact opposite of the kind of movie that I look for. I hate violent deaths and cruelty just to be, you know, a shock factor. I hate that kind of stuff, and this definitely falls within that category. But-- the main character, the whole time, is wrestling with her gender identity and sexuality in a way that makes that violence necessary. You know, so I say, I don't appreciate horror for horror's sake, necessarily. But I like when there's some greater value or meaning, and for me, I found that this time around. I can totally see how a lot of people-- like, I would say, straight, cis people-- probably would just watch this movie and be like, “I have no idea, it's just a fun slasher movie.” But I think for queer viewers it means a whole lot more. And I'm just, like, grateful it's out there.

Carver: Absolutely. When I was in college, I had an art history class where the teacher said something along the lines of, “you can see what each generation is afraid of by watching their horror movies.” Horror has always been an allegory, just like you mentioned, Night of the Living Dead-- The day that movie was wrapped, George Romero had the film in the trunk of his car, and over the radio, he heard that Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. And he just knew what he had, and what they were ready for. And many people weren't ready for it - He got a lot of criticism for casting the actors he did. And he always said that [that actor] was the best person who showed up. This role wasn't written for a man of color, and almost all of the lines were rewritten by that actor. He was like, "I'm not going to play someone who's uneducated. I'm not going to play someone who's vulgar. Because I'm neither of those things. And I'm not going to represent myself this way." And the reason that that character has so much power is because these people were able to come together and use the little bit of platform they had to get their message across. And I love that that's always been happening.

SJ: Exactly. Horror has always been an allegory, you know, not just from the beginning of cinema, but really, from the beginning of the genre itself. If we go back to one of the original examples of horror literature, Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein as an allegory about her own grief over losing her child. And I think that's what we miss, if we just write the whole genre off as, "it's slashers, it's blood and gore, it's haunted houses. That's not for me." I really would encourage people to give it a second look, and to realize that throughout history, the horror genre, just like any film or television, has its purpose in the current cultural moment.

Carver: Yeah. I don't think that the horror genre is for every person, but I think there is a horror movie that every person would resonate with.

SJ: Sure.

Carver: And that may be something like Get Out or Midsommar, or these things that are able, like you said, to really punch through the cultural zeitgeist. But it may also be... Well, a movie that I personally really love is All Cheerleaders Die.

SJ: I've heard of it...

Carver: It's very silly, but it's just like, a girl gets revenge for a friend's assault, and then her and all the people she associates with are murdered and brought back by her ex-lover, to really get revenge on the people who deserve it. It's campy, it's silly, it's like the horror version of But I'm A Cheerleader. I just feel that from it so much.

SJ: Interesting.

Carver: It's just a little low-budget, most people haven't seen outside of this community, movie. And there's one for everybody. [laughs]

SJ: I agree, I agree. And I think Get Out kind of proved that to a lot of people. Like, everyone saw Get Out, even people who would normally never go to see a horror movie in the theaters. Because it had something to say, and it said it very effectively. Yeah, I think there is a horror movie for everyone, whether they know it or not. I think that's a good take. Would you say [All Cheerleaders Die] is sort of your queer horror touchstone, or is there something else that really resonates with you?

Carver: Seed of Chucky is a movie that I saw the week it came out, waited, anticipated as a teenager. I was so ready for it, and I didn't understand for years why people hated it. I thought it was funny, it has John Waters in it, it's disgusting potty humor, like all the other things that were coming out at that time. But there's also this character who is struggling with their gender. They're a doll, they don't have anything, anatomically, to give them a direction on gender to go, so all they have is the ability to speculate. And when they're asked to put themselves in one category or the other, they say, "Can I be both?" And a doll says, "Well, some people..." And that tiny line in this terrible, low-budget, filmed-in-Ukraine-for-tax-purposes movie just lived in my head forever. Just that "Well, some people" line stuck with me. Every time I was like, 'Well, I don't feel right in this body...' 'Well, some people don't feel at home in their bodies.' And so, anytime I had this question, or I wanted to invalidate myself, I just had this little thing that could pop in my head and be like, 'Well, you know, some people do feel this way.'

SJ: Yeah.

Carver: And it lived with me forever. And I'm so glad that people are finally giving it that credit, because I know, at least I hadn't been exposed to a genderqueer representation before that. And yeah-- it just so happens to be a doll whose name is Shithead. [laughs]

SJ: Hey, sometimes it comes from the most unexpected places.

Carver: Yeah! [laughs]

SJ: We never know where representation will find us. [both laugh] That's great. I can totally see that. I can see how that would really stay with you, and just give you that nugget of validation for what you were feeling. Because so few movies at the time would have even had that tiny line. I can't think of any movies or TV that even acknowledged a nonbinary existence, prior to, I would say, a couple of years ago, honestly.

Carver: Absolutely. And you know, this was, I think, 2008/2009... Maybe 2007?

SJ: Wow.

Carver: Pre-2010 for sure.

SJ: I mean, that's early. That's early in the game.

Carver: Absolutely. And I think that can be wholly attributed to the fact that the creator of that story is a gay man, is someone who is in the community. And he saw an opportunity to bring just a tiny bit of information, even if it's mostly played as a joke. And I believe he had one of the first out gay characters in a horror movie, in his movie that came out right before that, Bride of Chucky.

SJ: Yeah, the person who's creating the film or show that we're seeing is so important. And that's why I talk about a lot on my show, who is behind the thing that we're watching, right? Because contrary to what fucking Matt Damon told Effie Brown on that season of Project Greenlight... [Carver chuckles]... diversity is not something that just happens in front of the camera; It also happens behind the camera. The person who is telling the story brings their own biases, their own prejudices, their own perspectives and lived experiences, to create the thing they're showing you. So everything is filtered through them, and when we're only getting to see things filtered through heteronormativity and cisgender people and men, that's so narrow! So it does mean something-- it means a lot-- when you have anyone from outside that perspective who gets to tell a story. And yeah, I think for sure the fact that he's a gay man had a huge amount to do with that - He was embedded within the community, he had probably met people who were nonbinary, and then he put that into the story, and look how much it helped you. Right? Like, that's an incredible cycle. That's incredible. And it never would have happened if he was not a gay man with this slightly different life experience to offer.

Carver: Absolutely. And I know in hindsight now, it wasn't just me. There were so many people who hung onto that representation for years, that now it is a cult classic. It gets played every Pride month at some dingy theater.

SJ: Wow.

Carver: It seems like a low-budget genre film, but every low-budget genre film has been the thing that kept somebody from taking a step off the bridge, you know?

SJ: Yeah. Yeah.

In the new ‘Chucky’ Syfy TV series, non-binary actor Lachlan Watson portrays the character Glen(da) from the original film.

SJ: Speaking of...

Carver: Taking a step? [chuckles]

SJ: Well...There is that. [chuckles] There is that, and we will get there. But no, I was gonna say, speaking of filmmakers and the importance of who is telling the story-- I have to confess that I feel a little guilty for choosing the movies that we are about to talk about today. [Carver laughs] It feels so off-brand for me. I never talk about straight white guys on my show - I'm not interested, they do nothing for me, their stories don't connect with me. And to be honest, Ari Aster is not an exception. I don't particularly care for him as a person, from all the research and interviews I've read. He just seems like just another pretentious fucking white guy. His success story is still very much a privileged one - He basically came out of nowhere and just *zooped* right to the top. And he just gets to make whatever the fuck he wants, handed a blank check to write and direct his vanity projects... I can't even think of a female director who has ever gotten that chance. I mean, he's on his third movie in a row, within the span of four years, that he is writing and directing, with studios saying, "Make whatever you want! You're Ari Aster, you're the auteur!" I can't think of a single female filmmaker, especially within the horror genre, who has gotten a chance to do that, can you?

Carver: Not really, no. Besides the woman who directed the Fear Street movies...

SJ: Okay.

Carver: She got to do all three, and she did those films back-to-back-to-back. But that was last year, you know? And they did not want her to direct all three - They actually only wanted her to direct two of those. And the male director they had for the third one wasn't available, so they let her do all three.

SJ: [scoffs] So when it does happen, women are only the second choice, never the first.

Carver: Yeah. [laughs drily]

SJ: Yeah, so, you know, I definitely come to this discussion a little frustrated with myself for brainstorming an entire list of incredible women-directed horror movies, and then at the last minute, going with a basic dude. But-- You know, it's an opportunity to do the flip-side of what I normally do. Normally, I highlight women directors and writers, and celebrate all the good that they do. The flip-side of that coin is to critique the things that we don't like so much. I have reasons for choosing these movies. Midsommar was the one that I first came to you and was like, "Do you want to talk about this?" And I have reasons for that, which we will get into. And we're definitely going to be offering some criticisms. But yeah, I just wanted to preface this discussion with that acknowledgement, that this is very much not in my typical wheelhouse.

Carver: Well, that's great, because if there's one thing I'm known for, it is making A24 fans mad, so... [chuckles]

SJ: Oh! Perfect. This is going to be that. [laughs]

Carver: Excellent. Something that we do on our show is we talk about horror movies in general. What makes them queer horror, and what makes us queer horror, is that we're queer people, and we're filtering our opinions through our lens. So we talk about lots of movies that most straight audiences are going to go to and not see most of the things we're seeing. But we can filter that through the experience of someone who has lived a different life than the movie was marketed for, than it was made for, and really flesh out what everyone else is seeing about it.

SJ: Absolutely. That is totally what I would like to do. Because everyone has seen these movies-- Mainstream audiences have seen these movies, and they have already come away with whatever opinions and experiences they've formed. But this really is, like you say, an opportunity for us to share our-- I think, going to be very different-- experiences of both of these movies, coming at it through a trans and queer lens. I think it is a valuable thing to do, to offer people a completely different take than the one they probably have. With that said, let's go ahead and dive in. So Ari Aster's first feature film, Hereditary, was released in 2018. Probably everyone listening to this has seen it, if they're going to see it. I don't really feel the need to do too much of a summary, other than maybe just a brief synopsis... I think you're probably better at those than I am, so I'll let you take this.

Carver: A family dealing with the grief of losing their eldest matriarch soon compound that grief with the loss of the granddaughter, Annie--

SJ: Oh, wait-- Charlie, right?

Carver: Oh! Charlie, yes. Annie is the mother. And so the film is really learning the truth behind the lies-- the lives-- of both the matriarch and Charlie. And maybe that involves some cult-y stuff. [laughs]

SJ: Yes. [laughs] Definitely involves some cult-y stuff. That was good! That was a really good synopsis.

Carver: Thank you!

SJ: We could print that.

Carver: [laughs heartily]

SJ: So that is Hereditary. Trigger warnings for this movie, I would say, are substantial - Suicide, decapitation, and self-harm... Those are the big ones I can think of, can you think of any others?

Carver: If you are especially sensitive to family dysfunction, this would be a very hard watch.

SJ: True. So, how do you feel about Hereditary?

Carver: I think calling Ari Aster an auteur is completely valid. These are incredibly well-made movies. The shots are intentional, the lighting is intentional. There are these wonderful elements that I think introduced a lot of people who are used to going to the movies and just having a good time, to sitting down and thinking more critically about what they're watching. And that is the credit that I will give him. [laughs]

SJ: Sure. I'll cosign, yeah.

Carver: But the thing with these films is that I sometimes feel like Ari Aster has his message, and then the movies have their own.

SJ: Yes.

Carver: And looking at them independently, it's kind of like if you're looking at a piece of artwork-- like a painting or a physical, unchanging artwork-- and then there's a three-page artist statement towards the side of it. You may read all of that and get the full intention behind it, or you may sit there and look at it, and feel what you feel about it. So that's what I'm doing with Hereditary. I had shared an article with you about people seeing themselves in Charlie.

SJ: Yeah.

Carver: And... it's very easy to see Charlie's character as a trans allegory. But I think that it contributes to one of the ways that trans people are depicted in horror. There are two main ways, in my opinion-- As either the villain and the monster and the thing you're supposed to be afraid of. And then there is the fear of the transition, the body changing, and what it takes to want to change a body. And I think that, in many ways, it is easier for trans people to see themselves in those narratives, but I think they're equally as harmful, because it's showing the actualization of a trans person living in the body they want to as a horror. And I don't love that parallel, as far as representation goes.

SJ: I... actually, am with you 100% on this. And I'm really relieved, because when you sent me that article... I don't know, I just kind of assumed that you really liked Hereditary, and I didn't want to have to fight you on this! [both laugh] But we are 100% on the same page. The article we're referencing, I will put in the show notes. It's an article from Them...

Carver: Yeah, Them.us.

SJ: They're a queer online outlet that I really like (usually). So they had an article written by Sasha Geffen, on how Hereditary is this trans masculine allegory. So I read that article, and I was like, "Huh. Do I need to rewatch Hereditary? Because I don't remember any of this." I mean, I watched Hereditary when it first came out, and honestly, it did nothing for me. I think it's very well-made - Like you say, the shots are very intentional. But I rewatched it after I read the article, and then I read the article again, and I was just like, "I see what you're saying, but I just have to blatantly disagree." I think, like you say, it's easy to see the trans allegory, but I hate the implications, right? Because I do think it plays into what you're talking about, and even what Geffen references themselves - This history, particularly within the horror genre, of having villains and monsters be trans people. We see this in Psycho, we see this in Silence of the Lambs with Buffalo Bill, right? There's this long history, and I just feel like this movie is playing into that. I don't think it's offering anything different or new.

So many of the things Geffen has to say about the trans masc experience are relatable - Their criticism of the Atlantic piece, that they're comparing Hereditary to, is spot-on. They're basically taking apart ROGD, the "rapid onset gender dysphoria" nonsense. So I think a lot of things Geffen is saying are totally valid. This one paragraph-- I'll just read it, because wow, I have a lot of feelings about it. [both laugh] They write, "Hereditary's transition allegory involves not only the violent death of a girl, but also the torture and eventual evacuation of a cis male body. Charlie does not merely change, but steals something that belongs to a man. That Charlie's transition requires so much physical violence speaks to a lingering anxiety among many cis people that transition is, at best, a form of mutilation, and at worst, a kind of death - a sloughing of one body in exchange for a new, different one. A girl dies so a boy can live as a boy. The impulse to transition is often interpreted as a form of self-destructive madness. And, in the case of trans masculine people, it can be read as a flocking to power - a magnetic pull away from the subjugated gender toward the one in control." Whoo! [both chuckle] There's a lot to unpack there. I think that reading of how cis people view the trans masculine transition is, unfortunately, more or less accurate-- as wrongheaded and reductive and harmful as that view is. You know, that's not the truth. That's not in any way our lived reality. But at the same time, I think the movie is just reinforcing those super transphobic, cisgender views. I don't think it's challenging them at all.

Carver: I absolutely agree. A movie that keeps coming to mind for me, as far as trans representation with this, is another movie where the character themselves never say they're trans. I don't know if you're familiar with Sleepaway Camp--

SJ: No...

Carver: --but it's a very controversial movie. It's a slasher, definitely not your thing. But to me, it's a queer classic. It is about a little girl who goes to summer camp, and all the people who bully her, or try to do bad things to her, start dying. It's sort of a whodunnit, and then at the end of the movie... And I want to say, this came out in the 1980s, 1970s... It's very old. And the crux of the movie is that... Gosh, this is hard to explain in a way trying not to be spoiler-y...

SJ: It's okay. I would say, spoil away if it takes the spoil to make the point.

Carver: So, in Sleepaway Camp, the ending of the movie is when you find out who has done it, it's Angela. And Angela is on the beach with the head of the boy who has been flirting with her on her lap. She stands up, covered in blood, his decapitated head falls from her lap, and she has a penis.

SJ: Hm!

Carver: And many, many people-- And it's a completely valid argument, to read this as transphobic.

SJ: Sure.

Carver: And I think the intentions around it were transphobic. But I saw this movie first when I was coming into my gender identity, and personally-- Angela never says that she's trans, and isn't given the choice to live as a woman. She and her twin sister were in an accident, where her sister died, and Angela was put in a house where the matriarch said, "I already have a boy. Angela is such a beautiful name." And so, I read that movie, at least, as the horrors of being forced to live as a gender you don't identify as, and the fear of keeping up with that...lie, you know?

SJ: Mm-hmm.

Carver: And so, when I think about the way I have to twist my mind around Charlie being trans... Charlie never says that she is trans.

SJ: Right.

Carver: Charlie didn't put Paimon in their body. It was all choices made by other people. And so I have a really hard time warping that idea into Charlie being trans. And when I do, I don't feel good about it.

SJ: Agreed. Absolutely agreed. Yeah, that's really the same way I feel. I think it's a bit of a stretch to say that Charlie is trans, to be honest. Because the thing that Geffen quotes as proof of that is when Charlie says, "Grandma wanted me to be a boy." Well, okay, that's not saying that *she* wants to be a boy. But this reviewer kind of takes that and runs with it as 'Charlie feels trans,' and I just don't necessarily see that for her. And then also, throughout this piece, they keep conflating and interchanging the names 'Charlie' and 'Paimon'. Paimon is the demon that is trying to possess a male body and doesn't want Charlie's female body, and so eventually-- Yeah, we're gonna spoil this movie. [both laugh] Y'all have seen it. So, Paimon is the demon, but Geffen keeps conflating Charlie with Paimon. And not only is that confusing the message, where I'm like, "Well, okay, so are you saying the demon is trans, or Charlie is?" But if you do conflate Charlie with Paimon, then you are *literally* saying that this trans person is a demon, which-- harken back to our previous argument! [both laugh] Trans people don't need to be vilified or demonized on screen any more than they already have been, historically, throughout film and throughout the entire genre of horror. And I just feel like, kind of any way you slice it, if you want to read a trans allegory into this movie, I hate what it has to say. I think it's just playing into that really tired, damaging, transphobic trope.

Carver: Absolutely, I agree with you.

SJ: And I think what would have made it feel different, what would have made me able to see Geffen's argument, is if we had at any point been invited or encouraged to empathize with Charlie. But we are never allowed to do that. I mean, she is weird, and creepy, and evil, and snipping the heads off birds for the whole 30 minutes that she’s on screen, and then she is gruesomely decapitated. We are never offered the chance to empathize or connect with her.

Carver: I think, as well, not only are we the audience not ever empathizing with Charlie, but none of the other characters seem to be either. Every relationship-- besides possibly the relationship with the grandmother, which we're never shown-- is very much at arm's length. It's the mother using her as a pawn to keep the son from drinking, but not considering, 'Does a 13-year-old want to be at a party with drinking and teenagers and unfamiliarity?' None of the characters have empathy for her until she's gone, and then they want to talk about how hurt they are. But they weren't giving her the time and attention when she was there.

SJ: Right. So how is that doing anything other than further othering trans people, if we are to infer that Charlie is trans, you know what I mean?

Carver: Especially the way the movie was marketed, where it was *only* this character and only the odd sounds that she makes. They hinged so much of the interest of this movie on this character that it seemed, frankly, uninterested in.

SJ: Very much so. And there's also possibly an element of ableism going on here... I wasn't able to fully confirm this one way or another, so I wondered if you might have some behind-the-scenes info that I don't. But Milly Shapiro, who plays Charlie, has a rare disability called cleidocranial dysplasia, which gives her kind of a unique look. And I'm wondering if there's a sort of ableism that came into the casting of this character. Because another thing that Ari Aster tends to do, for no reason and kind of randomly, he will insert these characters with some sort of facial deformity. And it doesn't seem to be for any purpose other than to unsettle us. It's just like an image of what he thinks is the grotesque, to lend more of a sinister, unsettling atmosphere. I don't know if you have any more background information, but the film seems to use lighting, makeup (or lack thereof), camera angles, and directing of her posture to emphasize her facial differences. Because if you see pictures of Milly Shapiro in real life, they're much more emphasized in this film than they are in real life. There's even possibly some prosthetics going on... If that is the case, I find that pretty troubling.

Milly Shapiro / Charlie

Carver: So, the information I have is that I follow Milly Shapiro on TikTok...

SJ: Oh, nice!

Carver: ...and she has said that they did use some facial prosthetics to accentuate it.

SJ: Oh, boy... Well, that's not great. To be clear, it's not a problem to cast a person with a disability, or who has facial disfigurements or burns, or anything like that. It's a problem to cast them and then enhance those differences, in order to make them appear more "monstrous." Charlie, as you said, was very much marketed as the creepy, evil entity in this movie. So that's why it's problematic.

Carver: Yes.

SJ: I'm so glad you have the insider scoop!

Carver: She also actually spoke *today* about how because of Hereditary, she was bullied mercilessly throughout the rest of her high school career, because she was "the ugly girl" from Hereditary.

SJ: Oh my god!

Carver: As far as I know, she does some acting now, but she's focusing more on her music. I actually believe they use they/them pronouns...

SJ: Oh, okay.

Carver: I can't remember, but I believe maybe both... Certainly 'they' somewhere in there.

SJ: Awesome. Okay, thanks for the heads-up. I just Googled it, and it says, "Milly Shapiro identifies as a lesbian and uses she/they pronouns." Okay, cool. Good to know. Wow, I had no idea about that background, but that's horrible to hear. And that sort of confirms my worst suspicions, that they did use prosthetics, and that had the exact real-world consequences for Milly Shapiro as one would expect. Again, to me, that's ableism, and that is Ari Aster, who now has this pattern-- because it shows up in Midsommar too-- of using these images of people with deformities or disabilities, or, in Midsommar... Well, actually, in both Hereditary and Midsommar, the aging female body he also thinks is disgusting, apparently.

Carver: [with distaste] Yeah.

SJ: You know, it just keeps showing up. And I really have a problem with what he thinks is "the grotesque," and the way that he uses it, and the way he enhances it for maximum shock value. Especially with this new information, I really hate the way that character was portrayed, and how that disability was played up, because that's just another way of othering them. And it really does not lend any credence to this Them article-- you know, to their thesis.

Carver: Yeah. [chuckles]

SJ: Wow. That just sort of cements it for me. That character, to me, is a combination of transphobia and ableism.

Carver: Yeah.

SJ: [sighs] I don't like it at all.

Carver: I think when you think about what we were saying earlier, about horror being a mirror of what people are afraid of at the time-- 2018 is the year after [with disgust] *the man* was elected... [SJ gives a humorless chuckle] ...and there was a constant bombardment against trans people and universal health care. And I think there is a way to see this movie as, yes, it is about grief and family, but it's also, in a larger cultural context, about being afraid of what the youth are going to accomplish, and what the youth's needs are. Because it is very much the older generation against the younger generation, and then the younger generation growing up and using those same tools to attack their children.

SJ: That's a really interesting lens to look at it through. I hadn't really thought about that. I just have to say one last thing about this article. The last line of it is, [dramatically] "Aster's fable understands just how deep gender goes." [regular voice] And I just have to say, absolutely not! As someone who has listened to and read more interviews with this man than I wish I had, [both laugh] Ari Aster is not a man who has put any time or thought into his own gender. This is not someone who set out to make a trans allegory, I'm sorry. I think it's basically an accident, and I don't think he put any sincere thought or empathy into this movie as a trans allegory. I don't think he is someone who understands gender at all. I mean, this is the guy who once said, "My method of writing women is just to put myself in them.” [Carver chortles] Are you kidding me? Like, this is not a man who knows how to write any gender other than his own. And I just think Geffen is giving him way too much credit. To me, this film is the embodiment of really the basest transphobic fears of the male cishet mind. And I think to give him more credit than that is just-- overly generous, to say the least.

Carver: This is my second watch of both these movies, and this time around I'm like, "These movies just *barely* pass the Bechdel Test."

SJ: Yeah. [scoff/laugh]

Carver: And I think they do because Ari Aster knew they had to.

SJ: Right.

Carver: Like, I'm sure there is an early draft of this where they didn't, and he was like, "I gotta give this person speaking lines, so they can talk to each other!"

SJ: A hundred percent! I guarantee you the first draft of both of these movies was genuine trash. And I guarantee you that he got some notes and had to rewrite the hell out of it. But even so, my other huge problem with this movie is that it is *so* white. There is not a single character of color in this movie. And I can't remember the last time I saw that in film. Like, this is 2018-- this is just a couple years ago-- and there was no consideration that we are only showing white people on screen here? And if you look behind the camera, it's the same shit. I went on IMDb, I'm combing through the profile pics, and it's just white guy after white guy. So that, to me, is a real problem. That's a huge red flag. Because what movie, post-2000, is this white?? Truly!

Carver: And I think when you think about race in Midsommar, it becomes even more problematic.

SJ: Whoo! Oh yes, indeed. [both laugh] I can't wait to talk about that.

Carver: Especially the world that Hereditary is in... Were there even people of color in the support group meeting that Annie went to?

SJ: Maybe, but they didn't have any lines.

Carver: Exactly.

SJ: If they exist, they're just so background that it didn't even register.

Carver: Obviously I don't know Ari Aster-- I can't say this with any certainty-- but I think it really reads as someone who is like, "I'm just not going to put people of color in this, because if I do it wrong, I'm gonna get in trouble."

SJ: [exasperated sigh] Yeah.

Carver: And it's like, do the work to put a good representation out there, instead of just being like, [whiny voice] "I'm scared I'm gonna get in trouble, so I'm just not gonna." [laughs]

SJ: It really does read that way. And you can tell he probably got called out a little bit for the whiteness of this movie, because, oh, there's one Black person in Midsommar! So we got that box checked. [exasperated sigh]

Carver: Yeah.

SJ: No, it's really glaring. This movie was co-edited by a woman, Jennifer Lame, but other than that, it's all-male below the line. So this makes a lot of sense, all the issues I have with this movie... There is a direct line between what shows up on the screen and what is happening behind the scenes. And I really believe that when you have a more diverse lineup below the line, behind the camera, that comes through in front of the camera. But here, it's just homogeny going both ways, and I think that's a big part of what makes this movie so blah for me, and even problematic. Because you don't have *anyone* with a slightly different perspective who's contributing. And then I also have to critique-- because we just came off on Popculty doing this mental health series, and we're talking about depictions of mental illness in TV and film... Guess which genre has the worst track record with this, by the way? [laughs]

Carver: Mm-hmm.

SJ: Yeah, so we talked about that. And this movie just perpetuates a lot of the harmful tropes you see over and over in media - The support group is not shown to be effective in doing anything other than facilitating Anne Dowd's character to weasel her way into Annie's life; Annie tells the support group that she has a history of mental illness in her family, like DID and schizophrenia, but then we learn in the end that that was actually attempted or successful demonic possession. That's not helpful for people with mental illness to see, and it also further others and vilifies people with mental illness by conflating demonic possession with things like schizophrenia. That's the exact type of thing that I talked to Megan in that mental health episode about, that we don't want to see anymore.

Carver: That's such a major thing in horror, specifically in the Exorcist/possession sub-genre, which is a genre that I really enjoy, usually. But it's something that I can't enjoy without really noticing the way that it vilifies these people. There's the one side of the coin that sees them as evil, or that they have evil inside of them. And there's the side of the coin that I tend to be on, where oftentimes what is being done to them is awful and beyond their control, and maybe inside of them, but isn't necessarily part of them. And as someone who has struggled with mental health, I relate often to those characters. But I can do that and still see how completely damning that could be for people who aren't seeing it from my perspective.

SJ: Horror has a lot to make up for-- I'll just say that-- when it comes to its mental health portrayal.

Carver: Mm-hmm.

SJ: To wrap things up with this movie on a slightly more positive note, I will say that Toni Collette's dinner table rant-- That is pretty iconic, for a reason. [both laugh]

Carver: Yes.

SJ: I think it also addresses the guilt and blame that happens within families, when one member is responsible in some way for another's death, or feels responsible. Ooh, that scene really encapsulates that blame/guilt dynamic she has with her son. You do feel that tension throughout the film, and I think that is really effective.

Peter: [mumbling] Just seems like there might be something you want to say.

Father: [warningly] Peter...

Annie: [calmly] Like what? I mean, why would I want to say something, so I can watch you sneer at me?

Peter: [more clearly] *Sneer* at you? I don't ever sneer at y--

Annie: [chuckles mirthlessly] O-ho, sweetie, you don't have to, you get your point across.

Peter: Okay, so, fine. Say what you want to say, then. [Annie gives an exasperated sigh]

Father: [more firmly] Peter.

Annie: I don't want to say anything. I've tried saying--

Peter: [slightly louder] Okay, so, try again. Release yourself.

Annie: Oh, release you, you mean?

Peter: [shouting] Yeah, fine! Release me, just say it! Just FUCKING say it!

Annie: [fists slam on table] DON'T YOU SWEAR AT ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT! [chair clatters] Don't you EVER raise your voice at me, I AM YOUR MOTHER. Do you understand? All I do is worry and slave and defend you. And all I get back is that FUCKING FACE ON YOUR FACE! So full of disdain and resentment, and always so annoyed. Well, now your sister is dead! [calmer, more sympathetic] And I know you miss her. And I know it was an accident. And I know you're in pain. And I wish I could take that away for you. [cruelly] I wish I could shield you from the knowledge that you did what you did. [shrieking] But your sister is DEAD! She's gone forever! [sobbing] And what a waste... If it could have maybe brought us together, or something! [accusingly] If you could have just said, "I'm sorry," or faced up to what happened, maybe then we could do something with this. [practically spitting the words] But you can't take responsibility for anything!! So now I can't accept. And I CAN’T forgive. Because... [catches breath] Because nooOBODY admits ANYTHING THEY'VE DONE!!!

Carver: Peter wants to blame himself-- He does already. And Annie wants to blame Peter, but she won't say it. She's not willing to take responsibility for anything that she's a part of in this movie. And that is not how mothers are normally depicted. Women are usually expected to have everything together and be planning for every emotional need of the men in their lives. And that is a role that Annie has refused to take on. Which is refreshing in some ways. [laughs]

SJ: Totally. I'm all here for female characters getting to be more complicated and nuanced and messy, and maybe unlikable, than we typically are used to seeing them. I'm here for mothers blatantly expressing to their children that they never wanted to have them. Because that's the complete opposite of the really idealized version of motherhood we so often get. And to me, this is a more honest one-- Like, a lot of mothers resent their children at some point, a lot of mothers experience postpartum depression. And that's just not something we acknowledge or talk about. So anytime that is hinted at or addressed head-on, I'm all for it. I love a complicated mother. [laughs] You know? I love a complicated female character.

Carver: Absolutely.

SJ: [over spooky synth music] That's it for this week. But don't worry, Carver and I still have plenty more horror to discuss. Stay tuned for Part 2 next week, when we talk about Midsommar - The Ari Aster film we maybe, actually, kind of liked? Be sure to follow The Popculty Podcast and Spooky & Gay with Carver & Jay to find out. In the meantime, Happy Halloween and Dia de los Muertos! I hope you're watching some good scary movies. We've left our favorite women-directed horror flicks in the shownotes, so have fun with those if you need some recs. Is there a horror movie that has really resonated with you? We'd love to hear about it. Tweet me @popculty and Carver @spooky_carver. You can follow me on Tumblr at popculty.blog, and Carver on TikTok @acamp.slasher. If you enjoyed this episode, please leave either or both shows a review on Apple Podcasts. You can also support The Popculty Podcast at patreon.com/popculty. Until next time-- Support women directors, stay critical, and demand representation. [music concludes]

Matt Damon: When we're talking about diversity, you do it in the casting of the film, not in the casting of the show.

Effie Brown: Hoo! Wow. Okay.

#the popculty podcast #podcasts #horror #horror movies #hereditary #midsommar #ari aster #transphobia #ableism #racism

2 notes · View notes

lilsuzn · 4 years ago

Text

MLQC Victor - Fluff abc headcanons

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

Warnings: None. Fluffy flluff. The reader is gender neutral :)))

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

The ambition.

The witt.

The open-mindedness.

The kindness.

The creativity and imagination.

The passion.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Smile. He loves it, because it’s a clear indication of your happiness.

Your eyes light up, cheeks become so adorably pink.

He has a different picture of your smile on a main screen and lock screen of every device he has. Even his work laptop.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Given his initial attitude you couldn’t believe how after your first time together Victor got cuddly out of the sudden.

He’s not clingy. He doesn’t do it at any given occasion, but when you are alone in the comfort of his home - he will want to cuddle and might even get a bit touchy-feely sometimes.

Spooning on the couch is his favorite. He can be a big or a small spoon. He doesn’t really have a prefered role. Victor just wants to be close and keep you warm.

Candles and slow music.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Perfect gentlemanly manners.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

His ideal date would be a cosy, romantic dinner at his place. Just the two of you. Everything will be served to you. And don’t even think about helping him wash the dishes afterwards.

He can be quite aloof in public.

If he bares himself to you - it’s only in private (if at all).

When the look in his eyes softness and the corners of his lips tug upwards - that’s when he pulls you close and lays kisses all over your face.

Doesn’t really know how to talk about his feelings. Won’t really try unless absolutely necessary.

Will take extremely good care of you if you need it. Sick? Tired? Grumpy? Sad? He would nag, but is ready to stop the earth and move the sun if it is to make you smile at him again.

He’s a hard worker and would rather die than to give up on keeping you happy. And by his side.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

YES.

Whenever you are ready and if you want to have kids at all - he will be happy to provide.

Only thought of you carrying his child makes him all hot and bothered, but that’s obviously not all.

He just wants to have everything with you. Beautiful wedding, big house, children... maybe even a dog, if you into THOSE -.-

He sometimes imagines you both gray and old with your grandchildren. Making cookies in the kitchen or walking around the park.

He (very) secretly dreams about ending your love story the same way it ended in the Notebook (that he has officially never seen!). Embracing each other. Closing your eyes for the last time knowing that your children are safe and happy. That’s just who he is deep deep deep inside - a hopeless romantic.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Well, he doesn’t really believe that gifts are an indication of love. People give each other gifts all the time and for no apparent reason.

He cherishes every gift you give him, but if it was the only thing you did, he wouldn’t be too happy about it.

Same goes for him. He’s a man with money. He might not be able to give you ANYTHING you might want, but he can sure provide you with a lot.

And he will. He could never leave you wanting without a good reason. He sees it as his responsibility to gift his beloved one with everything a woman might want.

Every work trip - a bag full of ‘I’m sorry I left’ gifts. He just needs to prove it to you that he was thinking about you every second he was away and how else could he do it?

He also likes to present, well, himself with jewelry or clothes for you to wear. Something beaming like your smile? Something precious like you are for him?

He just can’t deny himself the pleasure of seeing you look so gorgeous in something he personally picked out.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Oh, so you thought you would be able to NOT hold hands on every possible occasion? Cute.

Don’t feel like cuddling on the couch or in the bed? Okay, hands holding it is.

Feel like cuddling? Okay, but don’t let go of his hand.

Walking around the town together? You better believe he won’t let a chance to show off his wonderful woman slip. Yes, madam old lady walking by, yes mister homeless guy going down the trash container, yes madam sales lady and you, random guy on a bike - she’s my babe.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If you injure yourself by being distracted while ie. cutting something with a knife or stirring something hot - he will get a bit upset with you.

But even though he will bumble discontentedly under his nose, he will take better care of you than you need. Hurt your right hand? He will feed you, write things down for you and whatever else he sees necessary. Hurt your foot? You’re being carried around and he will be mad if you try to walk on your own. “I know it’s nothing serious, but what if it gets worse when you always walk so carelessly?”

If somebody else hurt you? Well, he’s ready to kill with cold blood. Wouldn’t hesitate.

Stabs as a warning.

If you got seriously hurt he would probably close himself in the bathroom and cry for a while, but nobody but him will ever know.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He finds such acts very childish and would never prank you. He flinches with only a thought of the word.

If you attempt such a thing to him, he will get VERY UPSET.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Full of love.

He doesn’t like to kiss just for the sake of it or for the expectation to kiss your partner.

If your lips meet it’s always in an emotion-filled kiss.

No matter if it's a featherlight, sugarsweet, lovingly sensual or burning hot kiss - it's always intense in it’s own way.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Acts of service - His mane operational system. He lives to please you. To treat you like a goddess you are for him. Acts like he’s taking notes of your preferences, dreams and dislikes. Only buys the coffee you like. Stops eating meat for you. Do you remember saying that you wanted that cute, sakura starbucks mug, but had no idea where to get it? He does. He ordered it for you already. Remember briefly mentioning that you would want to see Tokyo in winter? He already has a whole trip planned.

Gifts - well, I already covered it in G, but I’ll just add that he will surely be reluctant to buy you some seemingly useless stuff even if you ask for them.

Physical touch - once again, Victor isn’t really clingy or touchy feely. He has his moments, we all do, but usually he just likes to hold hands and that’s all he wants for outsiders to see. At home he gets a little more physical, but not too much. Some affectionate caressing and hugs. Kissing is not that often of an occurrence, but when it happens is usually preparation for devil's tango (which with him happens pretty often but that’s not the list for the details).

Quality time - See Q.

Words of affirmation - Well, he is a good critic. Too good. However it’s just because he wants you to push your limits to thrive. He will tell you that he’s proud of you, appreciates what you are doing for him/your relationship and other things that are usually task/success related, because that’s the only appreciation words he appreciates. Words are empty for him. He’s a lawyer, he knows how willingly people lie to get what they want and how hesitant they are to make some more effort when it comes to it. Will tell you that he loves you at least once a day, because he always adds it to his to do list. Won’t praise your beauty too much, but you can tell he likes what he sees when he likes it. If you wear red lipstick the man will basically drool, but will not say a word until he pushes you down on his bed… and the rest is history.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

Remember that third date I mentioned? The one his kissed you for the first time on?

It was a very nice date.

He took you for a walk around the rose garden. Bought you your favorite coffee to keep you warm during the breezy evening.

Didn’t let go of your hand for a moment.

You looked so pretty that night. Smiled so pretty. TALKED so pretty.He didn’t even realise when he stopped and leaned down. He could not have noticed when you closed the gap between you.

But the kiss was outwardly. That first one and every other you shared that night.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

To disappoint you.

He sure is scared of losing you, hurting you and a few more, but seeing you disappointed by him…

To imagine such a thing is already hurtful for him.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Taking photos of you while you’re asleep.

He just can’t help it. You’re so beautiful. And cute.

Would never show them to anyone though. Not even you.

No… He couldn’t even confess to you about it. It’s just his little secret.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Is ‘dummy’ a pet name? Because… Dummy.

‘Baby’ might also happen if he's feeling playful or you did something cute.

If he’s in a good mood you can count on ‘my love’ or ‘my lovely’ - but never in public.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Can’t do without it.

As I said in D, Victor will both serve you and entertain you. Whatever you want to do - he’s okay with doing it with you.

He might not really pay any attention to some of your movies and work on his laptop instead, but he wouldn’t even dream about leaving you alone and doing it in his comfortable office instead.

He rearranged his home office so you would come over and you both work together more often and more happily. Now you sit across from each other and, heh, see H.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Me? Myself?

Beyonce - Ego. OBVIOUSLY. Check it out if you don’t know it. (it’s a tiny, little bit suggestive, beware)

But in the more romantic mood…

The Neighbourhood - Sweater Weather

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

You need to put a lot of work for him to finally open up.

After that first time, however, if he finds your reaction pleasant, he will start testing the waters on his own from time to time.

THEN, if you won’t fail his many, many tests of course, he will open up for good.

No secrets. No hiding his feelings. He’s your book that is eager to be read.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

He doesn’t fall for anyone. Ever.

If he was to, I’d have to be a conscious decision. With a lot of thought put into it.

That’s what he was telling to himself his whole life, a least.

But then when he met you… it wasn’t a love at first sight, but it took approximately a fithteen minutes of group conversation for him to get all tingly on the inside.

He didn’t ask you out that day and he regretted it alot. The next time you run across each other on the street, he spears no time.

He kissed you on your third date. Neither of you voiced it, but the situation was very clear.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He acts upset.

He’s angry and he either actively doesn't talk with you or throws passive aggressive comments around.

He doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s upset.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

You're absolutely supreme in his eyes.

Beautiful, intelligent, talented.

He takes a lot of pride by introd you as his partner. Takes you everywhere he can as his plus one, so he can show you off to even more people.

Talks instead of you as he does that, but obviously you are more than okay with that.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Do I even have to say it?

Because it’s obvious. Have you even ever heard about this guy?

He would kill and die for you.

Do anything to keep you by his side and happy. That’s just who he is - a fighter… for you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

His talent to read people is one of the main things he owes his success to.

Even if you don’t show what’s inside your head in your face, he sure will find other ways to read you.

You can’t hide anything from him.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

As I said, he doesn’t show it off much, but it’s quite clear in his gestures towards you - he’s a hopeless romantic that is madly in love with you.

Christmas morning. Sipping on hot chocolates that Victor made for you. You open your presents.

As always, you end up ashamed of how little you spent on him, even though you couldn’t really afford more. He bought you so many things you’re not even sure you’ll be able to store it.

After going through a few bigger presents, you finally go down on the smaller ones.

One of them particularly tiny, causing an awwww to leave your lips.

You got a few rings from Victor before and even more pairs of earrings. It really didn’t seem suspicious, especially since you’ve been dating for only a few months then.

But after you open up the box and see it… you get a bit confused at first.

White and yellow gold molten together creating an uneven coloration of a band that bends and twists and splits like a branch that holds two gleaming diamonds like they were two blooming flowers. One white - bigger, other pink - smaller.

Their cut - unseen. Enhancing their flower-like look even farther.

At first you are consumed by inspecting every detail - the way the metal cups the stones to like a tree does flowers. Causing a petal ilusion to grow even more realistic… You don’t even notice when he goes down on one knee before you until he puts his hand on your thigh.

You look at him. Your eyes wide in shock.

He has never been a man of words and some might say that his proposal ‘speech’ wasn’t romantic… But for you it was more than just perfect.

“Marry me, (Y/N).”

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Seeing you calm. Seeing you happy.

Knowing that you don’t have to worry about another day, because he’s been working hard his whole life to provide for you.

#mlqc victor #mlqc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fluff

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purpleyoonn · 3 years ago

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writers block anon (again) ~

my favorite movie is the outsiders but favorite childhood movie is peter pan (from 2003). i’ll give both a rewatch and see if that helps (honestly never really occurred to me to watch them to get inspiration)

i have way too many favorite books if i’m totally honest,, but i haven’t read anything in over a year. i used to be an avid reader and had a new book every week (sometimes every other day) but since i’ve been in university it’s just harder for me to read. but i really really want to read 😅 (i have about 15 books on my shelves that are unread 💀)

i’ve been writing my whole life as well!! i’ve never posted any of my writings but i’ve been published,, my schools literary magazine and our newspaper ☺️☺️ writing has been my hobby for forever it helps my mind get at ease

i day dream a bunch about nothing in particular so writing helps me get a lot of those restless thoughts on paper and out of my head. i usually write poetry but i’ve been for the past two or so years trying to write short stories instead. (poetry is a dying art)

sorry that i just rambled a bunch 🤡 thank you for the advice!! and for reading about my conflict with inspiration! honestly excited to rewatch my fav movies and see if inspiration sparks ☺️

So just based off of Peter Pan alone, you could do like the lost boys as bangtan and make it like yandere, where they kidnap woman who are submissive and naturally care taker types, and take them to never land and when they take the mc, something in them like becomes more obsessive and possessive. Like maybe she is like tink and thrives on attention and she is maybe a villain as well. Like she uses the situation in her favor because the boys become possessive and need to have her by them at all times.

Or you could do the boys as Captain Hook and his pirates, and maybe Peter Pan just annoys the crap out of the mc and she chooses to go with hook (joon) instead. It could be like a slow burn and like enemies to friends to lovers story.

I’m kind of the same way with books to be honest. I was a college reading level by first grade and was an extremely avid reader up until late high school where I just got so burnt out. I have a huge to be read list but no motivation to read them.

I always wished I could get into poetry but it does nothing for me🥺 like I took a creative writing class in high school and in college and both times I absolutely bombed my poetry units.

Please do watch them and let me know if it helps!!🥰

#purpleyoonn #purpleyoonn ask

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slygirl666 · 4 years ago

Text

lack of self control pt. 2 (F.W)

a/n this took soo long. summery in part 1

warnings: gets dirty, 18+, blah blah

word count: 2,984

https://slygirl666.tumblr.com/post/632831780023631872/strawberry-lipstick

You woke up with an exceptionally bad headache and a pair of freckled arms around you. Looking up you could see Fred Weasley sleeping peacefully. You took a moment to drink in the sight, his strong freckled chest that had scars from experiments and the war. Your fingers trailed them before you untangled yourself from him. Quickly collecting her dress and underwear.

“Not leaving without saying goodbye are you?” Fred sat up in his bed with a satisfied smirk.

“Merlin,” you jumped. “I was. I wanted to get home so we don't have awkward conversations.”

“Love, you work for me,” he laughed humorlessly. “We’d just have to do it tomorrow.”

You didn’t think of that. “Okay, well that was enjoyable but we really shouldn't go it again.”

He smiled at her moving to get up letting the blanket fall. You covered your eyes for your sake more than his. “You've seen it all, haven't you?”

“Don't be a dick.” you uncovered them, thankfully he had pulled some sweats on. He led you to a kitchen where he made coffee. He handed you a mug of coffee and some milk.

“I’m not being a dick, what happened wont leave here.” he gave her cheeky smile.

“I work in ‘this place’ so it won’t leave the apartment,” she glared at him. “One time thing.”

He held his hands up, “one time thing.”

One time thing, right? Of course not. Because that's exactly how a week later you ended up in the back of the shop after a busy day with Fred’s lips on your neck and his hands up your skirt.

His hand traced her underwear while she growled at him. “Don’t tease me Fred.”

He laughed bringing his lips up to yours pulling the lace to the side. You moaned into his mouth as the pad of his finger circled your clitoris. He thrived off of your sounds as he moved his hand down to your entrance he started with one finger. Pumping it in and out.

“Your Dripping aren’t you? Have you been thinking about the way it felt to fuck me.” you nodded you really had been all week. Everytime you lie in bed the only thing you thought about was him between your legs, behind you even under you. “Because I've wanted to feel you all week, love.”

You shivered as he entered another finger, earning him another breathy moan. “Freddie please,” you slid a hand from his neck to the growing erection in his pants. His breath hitched as you palmed him.

He took his hand out from under your skirt reaching for his wand, a moment after he leaned down to kiss you there was a lout cracking sound and you were in his apartment. He was quick to remove your clothes mouth nipping and sucking at the exposed skin as you fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

You gasped out ‘merlin’ when his mouth found your nipple. Unlike the last time when you were both completely sloshed, Fred wanted to commit everything about you to memory to take his time and he did just that.

* * *

An hour later you were on Freds bed, legs twitching slightly but feeling satisfied.

“So much for this can’t happen again,” you rolled your eyes moving to get off the bed, Only to be stopped by his arms winding around you to pull you onto him.

“It didn’t have to be,” he whispered into your ear. “It still doesn’t have to be.”

You moved to straddle him. “You’re right, I mean we're two healthy adults. Were obviously attracted to each other, we can just keep fucking, I guess, casually.”

You bit your lip, you could feel how much you were blushing. He licked his lips nodding at you. “Casually.”

You could feel your stomach sink slightly at his lack of protest, you half wanted him to confess his undying love for you right then and there.

So that's how a heated affair started, after the shop closed the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. In the back of the shop, restocking the shelves, in his flat, kitchen counters, his bed, couch but his personal favorite was to have you in his office. Actually his and Georges but that didn’t matter while he was away.

It was almost exactly two months since the wedding, you and Fred were still going at it constantly.

The two of you were finishing restocking the snack box display when Fred grabbed your waist, pulling your back to his chest. You placed the last box on the shelf as his hands started to work the buttons on your shirt, lips finding your neck.

“You know Freddie, I think the only reason you hired me is so you could fuck me.” you breathed out a laugh. You could feel the cheeky smirk on your skin.

“Oh, absolutely Princess.” his mouth found your ears nipping at it, “It was all part of my plan, first I hire you, next I get you naked.”

You laughed turning in his arms to kiss him. “This is probably the last time we can be up to no good in the shop.”

“Ah, yes, Georgie will be back,” he sighed dramatically. “He always ruins my fun.”

“I’ll let you choose how and where you want me first, Mr. Weasley.” you gave him an innocent smile, though what you were talking about is anything but.

“Office,” he growled. “Now.”

You grabbed his hand, bringing him upstairs opening the door to his side of the office. He quickly lifted you onto his desk. Kissing you as he took your shoes off sliding his hands up your thighs, discarding your stockings. His hand reached up your skirt, instinctively you moved your legs apart to give him better access. His fingers tracing the lace to find your clit.

His hands giving you all their attention, as his lips found the spot on your neck that never fails to make you moan.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he murmured. One hand pulling you panties off as the other went straight for your core. “Already so wet for me.”

His lips found yours once more, reaching for his pant button and zipper. “How do you want me Freddie? It’s your choice.”

His hazel eyes were clouded with lust and adoration. “Get off the desk.” You did as he commanded shivering at the loss of touch. “Clothes off.”

He tugged at his own as you pulled the skirt down, finishing off the buttons he hadn’t undone. Both left I'm your undergarments. he smiled, eying you as blushed. “Gorgeous, now Princess, I’m gonna bend you over and fuck you on my desk so hard you can’t say a full sentence.”

You giggled and squealed as he turned you around. With a tug your panties were off, one hand on your hip with a bruising grip the other on your spine guiding your chest flat against the wood.

You felt his length line up to your entrance, the tip teasing you, making you whimper for more. “Just say please, princess…”

“Freddie, please I need you…” you whimpered with want. Truly, you did feel like you needed him. Fred made you feel like no one you’ve had sex with ever had. The way he filled you, the way his hands guided you. He was everything.

He entered you with a low grunt, his own name dripping from your lips. As he started at a slow pace, basking on how you felt around him. He still had the fim hand on your hip. As the other one went for your hair, pulling it lightly making you arch your back.

“Freddie, harder… please,” you know sometimes he liked to take it slow. But right now you wanted more.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he pushed himself into you harder, going at a rather brutal pace. You gasped the noise quickly turned into a needy moan, at the sudden movement. “There we go princess, such a pretty noise just for me. Right Y/N?”

You couldn’t focus, the slight growl of his voice and the feeling of his skin moving against yours left you in a daze. The hand on your hip found its way down to your clit.

“Fuck Freddie,” a loud moan came out of you.

Fred stopped completely inside of you, “you can still speak.” his hand went to your waist to pull your body flush to his. A hand finding its way around your throat.

Your brain short-circuited, he'd never done anything so aggressive. Hagged breaths and half moans were all you were capable of making.

“That’s better, isn’t it love?” he purred in your ear before his lips sucked on your neck. You nodded the best you could.

You felt the familiar pull of an orgasam, body twitching, Fred felt it too. His hand going back to your clit to circle the sensitive bundle.

“You can let go, cum for me princess.” he whispered.

With his hands working you it was seconds before you were undone with loud gasps and needy sounds. You finished seeing stars. Fred kept you upright as he thrusted into you as he climaxed.

He pulled himself out of you.

“That was intense,” you giggled, going to pull your skirt back on.

“Too much?” he looked a bit flustered, putting on his own clothes.It was slightly adorable to see the bold and sexy Fred Weasley get shy.

“It was perfect, in fact we should explore that side of you again.” you grabbed his collar bringing him to your height for a soft kiss.

“I think we should too,” he smiled. “Want some dinner? I'm going to make some pasta, maybe watch a movie before we try to explore a little more.”

You nodded and the two of you went up to the flat another floor up. This was the part of your arrangement that kind of left hope for something more. Often the two of you had dinner together and your lunches were always spent in his office joking. A few days a week you would even stay the night, he would say ‘it's convenient you work right here.’ but nothing more than the sex ever came up no announcement of his love for you.

You sat on his couch looking at the small selection of movies he had. Finding a movie you considered okay. Fred was in the kitchen putting water in a pot setting it to boil on the stove before joining you.

He sat on the opposite end the two of you made comfortable conversation about anything you could think of with in the next hour the two of you had eaten and were on the couch watching an older movie about a young woman in new york. Not that the two you were paying any attention to the movie.

He had you in a heated kiss, laying on top of you. You had a leg around his waist, your hands tugging at his hair.

“So Princess, want to experiment some more?” that cheeky smirk told you tonight would be trouble.

“I was the one who suggested it. “

“How do you feel about being tied up?”

* * *

Waking up next to Fred was something you enjoyed, the way his bare chest rose and fell with his rhythmic breath, how the sun reflected off of his red hair, and his slightly parted lips. You felt him against your backside. You grinded against him, his perfect parted lips letting a groan slip out.

One thing you had learned about Fred these two months is that the man had a neerly impossible sex drive. You couldn’t always keep up but were more than willing to please. This was one of those times you would please.

His eyes twitched, and his mouth lifted into a smile, “good morning to you too.”

“Hi Freddie,” you twisted into his arms, letting him flip the two of you over for a kiss. You smiled into his kiss letting your hands explore. The few mornings you spent in his bed you learned they will always be slow and sensual.

The two of you were so caught up you didn't hear the loud ‘CRACK!’ in fact the two of you didn’t notice anyone was in the room until a loud “Oh shit!” was heard through the room. Fred got off of you, luckily you were still in one of Fred's sweaters but kept the blanket around your legs.

“Well isn’t this a surprise hello Y/N,” George laughed loudly as red got up and shooed him out of the room. You got up extremely embarrassed, you got up pulling on your skirt that had been discarded last night.

You walked out into the kitchen to see Fred and George sitting at the small table with a cup of coffee in each of their hands. Fred handed you a mug as you sat awkwardly,

George cleared his throat, “so how long have you two been together?”

“Well-

“We aren’t-”

You and Fred started at the same time, you nodded at him to continue, “we aren’t together, we’ve just been-”

“Screwing?” George supplied.

“Yes,” you cringed at the vulgarity. “I’m going to go home, get ready. I'll see you in two hours.”

The boys nodded at you as you got out your wand and apperated out of the room.

“So when are you going to tell her?” George stared his brother down.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Fred couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Fred, don’t be daft, you are absolutely smitten with her and you know it.” George rolled his eyes, “you were taken with her at Hogwarts and now you're absolutely done for. Why haven’t you said anything?”

“We don’t really talk much if i'm being honest,” Fred smirked, and then sighed while sipping his coffee. “I just don’t want to ruin this now, I’ll take being with her the way she’ll let me.”

“You two are idiots.”

* * *

And George was correct.

You spent time away from Fred for the most part, your heart ached to be near him, but he didn’t want attachment and you would do what you could to respect that. But the man was infuriating he would put a hand on your waist to steady you when the latter shifted slightly. His strong hands when he rolled his shirt sleeves up, and his lover lip between his teeth. Oh how you wanted to have his lips on yours again.

Fred caught you looking, he sent you a wink causing your face to heat up. You continued to talk to the woman and young boy looking at the more child safe products. You smiled as you recited the information. Once the woman left it was time for your lunch break.

“Y/N?” Fred called from his office. “Could you please join me in here?”

You walked up to the stairs, it had been five day since George caught you two. You saw the two of them at their desks, George was engrossed in paper work as Fred sat back in his seat looking deep in thought.

“Freddie, what did you need?” you leaned against the door frame. “I was going to pick up lun-”

“We ordered in from that sandwich shop down the alley,” Fred gestured to the seat across from him. “George was just about to go pick it up.”

“Oi! What are you-” Fred threw him a glare. It seemed like something registered to George as he got up and put on his coat. “I’ll see you in a bit, have fun.. Maybe not too much.”

You let out a humorless chuckle, “so did you have a question? Or did you just want to-”

“Why are you avoiding me?” he caught your eye, you stayed silent. “It's just frustrating Y/N, I miss you, and i haven’t seen you outside of work in days.”

“We’ll i just thought that what you would wa-”

“Why would I want that, If the fact that I couldn't leave you alone for a single day.”

“It’s just George-”

“I don’t give a shit about George Y/N,” he rose his voice knuckles white from hanging on to the edge of the desk.

“no , but George catching us made this completely real. And that is scary Fred its so scary because what we were doing was just for fun we both said, but I don’t want it to be-”

“And you don’t think I want it either. That I didn’t feel like the luckiest man on earth everytime i woke up with you in my arms, or that it’s not absolutely ridiculous to have you ten feet away from me and not be able to say how I feel.”

By this time the two of you were standing shouting. “And you want me to believe that you Fred Weasley don’t feel more than lust and attraction-”

He cut you off putting his mouth to yours heatedly. “I am absolutely taken with you Y/N Y/L/N.” He leaped over his desk to continue in his embrace.

“And I'm most definitely taken with you.”

The door slammed open loudly and there stood George with his hand dramatically over his eyes a takeout bag in the other. “Nobody’s naked right?”

“No, were completely decent.” Fred’s arms stayed around you swaying slightly as George went to his desk to decide whose food is whose. “Y/N why don't i take you on a proper date? Tonight, I can pick you up.”

“Think that would be lovely.” you gave him a small peck on his lips.

“You two horny basterds I got food, can we please eat before we have to open back up” George barked at the two of you.

The three of you burst into laughter. Applying for a job at the joke shop was easily the best thing you've done.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fan fiction #fan fiction #Harry Potter #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n

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poetrusicperry · 3 years ago

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hi!! i was wondering if you could do a matchup/ship for me? some things about me is that i have short, curly brown hair and blue-green eyes, i’m not sure if appearance has anything to do with it but i thought i’d add it in! i’m pretty sarcastic around my closest friends and generally good at making new ones, even though i get a bit anxious at big gatherings like dances and parties. i stick to a close group of friends, like 99% of the time. i’m also an avid theatre kid lmao—i’ve been singing and acting for over a decade. i write a lot. like, i have twenty seven half-finished book drafts and a million poems in my notes app. i make super super extensive playlists in which every single song has a specific reason for being on the playlist. i also work at a coffee shop and have an addiction to caffeine! i’m a maladaptive daydreamer, so i’ll literally spend hours daydreaming about being in my favorite movie/book/tv worlds and romanticizing relationships with my favorite characters (i’m bi, so there’s a big playing field in this lol). i have legit zero volume control at times and i’m an empath (like, too much empathy at times that it makes me physically incapable of doing anything). i read a lot and i like to annotate/highlight my books. i write on my hands a lot (i have a million markers and pens it’s insane) but i’m t e r r i b l e at drawing. i do lots of peace signs and finger guns when i don’t know what to say or just at random times so i don’t have to continue conversations lol. i don’t know if this affects anything, but my favorite dead poet is definitely todd—i relate to his anxiety but i love seeing his character grow and make friends and become more confident throughout the course of the movie! he’s so sweet i love him so much. AH that was a lot of information that you probably didn’t need, but i really appreciate you confusing these ships!! i honestly love them so much, they make me smile like crazy. thanks love <3333

thank you so, so much for sharing all these details about yourself !! i relate to a lot of what you said, so writing this was very fun for me. i really hope you like it and thank you for the inspiration <3(:

ship:

shipping you with charlie, but you’d most definitely be best friends with todd ((:

hcs:

charlie would absolutely thrive off of your sarcasm. you guys would definitely have a lot of tension, but like… the good kind ? like it’d just be very flirty between you two almost immediately lol

hanging out with todd at big functions (prom, ball, concerts, etc.); you guys would find a corner that would be mostly quiet and just try very hard to disappear into your own worlds while this big event was going on

staying up for HOURS just writing with todd and bouncing ideas off each other, charlie begging you guys to just quit for the night and for you to come to bed, but you guys would be completely stuck on writing your hearts out

charlie surprising you at work where you’d make him his favorite drink (plain, black coffee)

gifting charlie a cd/mixtape with a playlist you made just for him, with extensive descriptions about what each song means (he would absolutely love this– the amount of attention you paid to him would make him absolutely thrilled)

you and charlie would have absolutely CHAOS-FILLED nights with lots of yelling and screaming song lyrics at the top of your lungs, laughing, and just being agents of chaos/mischief

you’d be one of the only people that todd trusts to help him when he’s not feeling his best. your way of being there for him was one of his favorite things and he appreciated it endlessly (‘:

running lines with neil, where he’d love to pick up on your techniques bc you’ve been acting for so long and he really admires that

charlie would like to read books after you had finished with them bc he liked reading your little annotations and stuff

you’d take to drawing on charlie’s hands, and he would find it so cute. he’d return the favor as well

charlie’s family would probably like how happy you make charlie (: you’d bring out this whole new side of him. like a side that was still all goofy, but also empathetic and deeply caring

blurb:

you and charlie would have a really fun first date; he’d take you bowling (where you both would do pretty terribly, but the music and the jokes you two would crack made it completely worth it), and then to have dinner at one of those 60s diners. he’d give you quarters to pick music on the jukebox and insist on dancing in the middle of the floor with you, even though you were a bit nervous/embarrassed by it at first. when you got home from your date, you’d write about it, sharing it with todd, who thought you and charlie were very cute together (‘: he’d mention to charlie that you had written something about him and plead you to read it to him. when you finally caved (bc who could say no to charlie dalton??) and read it, he’d sit there completely enamored with you and the way you could wield words to your advantage. hearing the way you described him and how much you cared for him would make him fall that much harder for you. and he would look so forward to future nights where you two could be your rambunctious selves with one another.

#dps #dps headcanons #charlie dalton #dead poets society #charlie dalton x reader #angelina writes

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hecallsmehischild · 3 years ago

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Recent Media Consumed

Books

War Nerd by Gary Brecher. I have a lot of conflicting feelings about this book. First off, I had to try three times to read it, because the first two times I read it, I was in an emotionally unstable period, and this is NOT a book to read in emotionally unstable periods. On the third try, I blew right through it. Second thing is about the way it’s written. On the one hand, I wish all history texts were written with HALF the color and vigor and humor of this writer, because I would have retained way more information. On the other hand, it was incredibly difficult for me to come to terms with this style of angry, bitter humor combined with a worldview I can’t really understand. Which, I suppose, leads into some of my major take-aways from this book: human nature is not basically good (I already believed that, but this is a pretty good secular argument for it), human nature seems to crave war and peace is the exception, and there literally are people in the world who I will never understand no matter how hard I try because they want things that are antithetical to absolutely everything I deem important. I don’t mean minor things or even the things we all know come into conflict, like religion. I’m talking about things like peace. If you look at what peoples’ actions tell you over their words, it seems like some people (individuals AND nation groups) genuinely thrive on death and war, and that that was in fact the state of things for far longer than attempts at peace. It’s a difficult book on all fronts (except readability, it’s quite readable and certainly more enjoyable than most history texts as I’ve said), but it makes you think. I also can’t speak for how accurate this book is, but it is written by someone who clearly has a hyperfixation, so...

Inside The Robe by Katherine Mader. Judge Mader, a criminal court judge in LA County, kept a court diary throughout 2016. This book is the result of that diary, and is her attempt at giving an “insider’s view” on being a criminal court judge. She is a colorful writer with very clear descriptions and a distinctive voice. This book was a pleasure to read and gave me a better understanding of the incentives and constraints on judges through her daily vignettes.

Economic Facts and Fallacies by Thomas Sowell. I read this in the wake of my second reading of Basic Economics and thought this would be a good follow-up read. There’s a lot of overlap here, but this book delves more in-depth into some concepts that Sowell had to give less attention to in Basic Economics for the sake of providing a broader overview. As usual, there are some concepts that get a little too abstract for me to hang onto very well, but the majority of his work is very understandable and makes sense to me. I am grateful for the clarity with which he writes.

A Man of Letters by Thomas Sowell. This is actually a good accompaniment to his memoir, A Personal Odyssey. He collects several letters he wrote (and a few select ones addressed to him) to sketch his reactions to various events in his life. He has quite the dry wit. It was a treat to get a further glimpse into his life.

Books I had to drop and why

Battles of the Bible by Chaim Herzog and Mordechai Gichon. Sometimes I have to admit I made a mistake and not keep trying to force myself to spend time on a book I’m not enjoying. I thought perhaps this book would help me understand some context of the Biblical stories more, but really what this is is comprehensive step-by-step war strategy (complete with diagrams and TERRAIN MAPS) of each battle in the Old Testament. And… that’s not what I’m looking for.

The Road to Serfdom by Friedrich Hayek. I’m kind of sad about this one. Thomas Sowell has referenced Hayek reverently and I was told The Road to Serfdom would be a good read for me. Unfortunately what I’m coming to understand is that it’s very difficult for me to grasp ideas when talked about ONLY in the abstract. This is why Sowell is usually a much better read for me, because he tends toward giving concrete examples, so after about 3 chapters of barely getting what Hayek wanted to convey, I switched over to…

Marxism by Thomas Sowell. And I was also crestfallen here. From the fragments I gather, Marx (who Sowell studied extensively and followed wholeheartedly in his college days) broke things down almost exclusively to their most abstract concepts before building back toward concrete ideas and tended to look down on any economist who only examined things as they appeared. Prior to this I had some vague notion that maybe I could eventually read Marx and understand the root texts of socialism/communism, but according to Sowell, there’s a lot of pre-requisite reading involved in really understanding what Marx & Engels were talking about. He also criticized most interpreters of not bothering to do their homework on surrounding texts and that many have mangled some of Marx’s points. I was not able to make it past chapter two of this book because I was floundering pretty hard. It’s a little discouraging to feel the limits of my comprehension so sharply. I’m going to take a break with some fiction.

Video Games

Bendy and the Ink Machine. Want to talk about being late to the bandwagon? I mean, I got on the bandwagon when everyone was talking about it, but then I got through chapter 3 and there was a graphics reboot, so I started playing from the top and then kind of… dropped off? Never got past chapter 3. Finally, I felt like I was in a good place and could take the jump scares, so I blasted through the first three chapters in about a night. Then for the next couple days I played through the last two chapters. I have to say, chapter 4 is my favorite and has probably the most disturbing image that, while disturbing, was epic and fantastic in its own creepy way (merry-go-round-and-round, anybody?). I didn’t really understand the ending, but there were some interesting theories to be found on Youtube about what it all means. This was an enjoyable game for someone like me who can’t really handle high level horror and isn’t too adept with controls because it had simple controls and the horror was… toned down, I’d say. I played through Soma and I tried (and absolutely ditched) Amnesia, and Bendy is at about the level of horror I can deal with. Good game.

Confess My Love. Started and ditched it. I was very, very annoyed at the girl by five rejections. In the end, I rejected HER by uninstalling the game.

Movies

Wolfwalkers. *inarticulate noises* f-f-found family…. nnngh…. *gentle sobbing*

#recent media consumed #n00b gamer child #child loves books

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Chapter 24 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

~|Emily Fox|~

Friday isn’t any better than Thursday. Though Madi and Mitch kind of filled up the void in my heart yesterday, it just seems to seep out the very next day. I don’t go to school yet, but Madi does today. Her mother allowed her to skip once, but not twice. I don’t blame her for it. Just because my life is ruined and I have no future, doesn’t mean Madi’s life needs to be ruined too. No. I want her to thrive. I want her to graduate High School and go to her dream college. I want her to have the things I don’t have. “Muffin,” Mitch’s voice sounds from the other side of the bedroom door, “I made you breakfast. Can I come in?” I let out a chuckle at how adorable my uncle is. He’s been like that since last Saturday. Just the cutest, greatest uncle alive. “Yeah, come in!” I sit up straight in bed, placing my phone to the side. I’d been scrolling through Tumblr aimlessly. At least the memes are still somewhat hilarious. Unless they’re memes Charlie sent me, because then I cried. “Made you some eggs, your favorite comfort food besides Madi’s mom’s lasagna!” He places the tray on my bed, the delicious smell of freshly made eggs hitting my nostrils. “If it were healthy to eat that much lasagna, even in the morning, I’d let you. But you know… Got to stay healthy.” He sits down at the end of my bed and grabs his own plate. “What movie are we watching today?” he asks before taking a bite. I grab the other plate and start eating too. “You can choose,” I tell him and take a bite, then hold up my finger to tell him to wait until I swallow. “But it can’t be a musical or anything Disney. Especially not Aladdin!” “Ten Things I hate About You?” He suggests hopeful. I think about it for a moment, then nod my head. “Kat does play guitar in that, though?” I shrug. “At least they don’t break out into music every other minute and it’s not the guy that plays the guitar because that would remind me of… you-know-who…” I tell him and take a sip from the orange juice he’d brought along. “Voldemort?” Mitch jokes. I tilt my head a little and raise my eyebrows as if saying ‘really, dude?’. “I’m kidding, Muffin. ‘Ten Things’ it is then!” We continue eating in silence for a moment which gives me the time to think about life. What am I going to do with my life? Since the Music Academy didn’t work out and I don’t have the band anymore, maybe I should do something more … Parent-approved. “I’m thinking of looking into other colleges,” I blurt out, capturing my uncle’s attention. “Maybe check out those colleges my parents wanted me to go to. I do like languages? Maybe I could do something in that direction?” “Are you sure you want to do that, Muffin?” I take a deep breath, placing my knife and fork on my half-empty plate. “It’s better than doing absolutely nothing, you know? I can’t spend my entire life wrapped up in blankets, eating eggs and lasagna and ice cream, and cry. I mean, I can keep dreaming like I’ll live forever but I have to live it. Now or never.” I can’t help but smile at the fact I just quoted the boys’ song and I think Uncle Mitch even noticed it too. “Wise words,” he says with a smirk, “But yeah, I mean, if you really want to do that, then I’m 100% behind you, Muffin. Whatever you need.” The smile on my face widens at this, and it surprises me that my lips can still curl up this far. It feels like I haven’t done that in forever. Mitch’s smile then suddenly vanishes. “Does that then mean you’re going back to your parents’?” he asks. I swallow the lump in my throat. I hadn’t even thought of that. “No,” I reply, “No, I don’t think so… Unless you want me out?” “No! God no! I could never do that to you.” It stings a little hearing him say that since my parents could, apparently. But at the same time, it makes me happy, knowing I have a man who loves me stand on my side for once. “You’re the best, Uncle Mitch, you know that?” The smile reappears on his face, along with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I heard that before,” he chuckles, “I love you, Muffin.” He places his plate on the tray again as I do the same with mine, knowing a hug is about to ensue. “I love you too, Mitchy.” I wrap my arms around my uncle’s neck as he wraps his around my waist. A bunch of oxytocin releases in my body, and for the first time in about a week, actually makes me feel happy again.

“I hate the way you talk to me, And the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare. I hate your big, dumb combat boots, And the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, Even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, Not even close, Not even a little bit, Not even at all.” I recite the poem along with Kat as Mitch and I sob. This movie always makes me cry, no matter how many times I watch it. It’s such a feel-good sad movie, perfect for the situation. My phone rings then, and after having blown my nose and wiped my tears, I pick it up. Ash’s name flashes on the screen. “Hey, Ash,” I greet with a slight quiver of my voice. “Have you been crying?” she asks, her voice instantly filled with worry. “Yeah, Mitch and I are watching 10 Things I Hate About You.” I glance over at Mitch, who’s sniffling in his tissues. “Ah,” Ash says, “The poem.” “Yah, the poem,” I whisper. In the background, I hear a couple of faint voices. She’s probably at the store, handling some customers. “So, anyway, I’m calling to see if you would like to come help me out a little. I asked my brother the last couple of days to fill in for you, but he can’t, and I really don’t have anyone else…” The voices in the background come through again. One of them faintly sounds like Owen, but I could be wrong. “It’s fine if you’re not up for it… I just really could use your help.” I draw in a deep breath. “I’ll come,” I say, which makes Mitch snap his head towards me in surprise. “Really?” Ash asks, not expecting me to say ‘yes’. “Yeah, I could use some distraction, I guess,” I tell her, and rise from the couch. “I’m going to get showered and dressed and then I’ll come, okay?” I hear the voices in the background again. I swear I hear Owen and Jeremy now. “Yeah, perfect! Thank you, Emily!” She sounds relieved. “No problem, Ash. See you in a bit.” “See you.” We both hang up and I start making my way upstairs. “What’s happening?” Mitch asks me before I get to the stairs. “Ash asked if I wanted to come help,” I tell him nonchalantly and rush up the stairs. I quickly take a shower, put some jeans and a top on, add a light layer of makeup and we’re done and ready to go. “You’re leaving the house?” Mitch asks, following after me as I grab my stuff. “On purpose?” “Yes, I am. It might do me some good,” I tell him with a simple shrug. “Okay… I’ll see you tonight then?” I’ve never seen my uncle this confused. “Yes, see you tonight,” I kiss him on the cheek and run out of the house, grabbing my bike to get to the store as fast as possible. It sounded kind of urgent when Ash called me. Plus, if those voices really were Owen and Jeremy, I might still catch a glimpse of them. The store is completely empty when I arrive. Ash is behind the counter, reading a book. “I’ve never seen it this quiet,” I tell her as I drop my bag onto the counter, making Ash jump. “Hey, Emily!” She says louder than necessary. “Hey, thanks for doing this! Uhm, my girlfriend kind of needs me, so…” She pats my shoulder before grabbing her bag and leaving the store in a hurry. I start sorting through invoices, wishing Charlie were here to do it for me because Ash’s handwriting has gotten gradually worse. As if on cue, I hear guitar strumming. Is this in my head? No, it’s actually happening. There’s no Charlie to be seen, only his voice to be heard. “First things first We start the scene in reverse All of the lines rehearsed Disappeared from my mind” He now appears from behind the wall and into my eyesight, an apologetic smile on his face. “When things got loud One of us running out I should have turned around But I had too much pride” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I can’t move a muscle. I’m completely frozen. “No time for goodbyes Didn't get to apologize Pieces of a clock that lies broken” My heart beats faster at the sound of his voice. He sounds incredibly sad and remorseful. “If I could take us back If I could just do that And write in every empty space The words I love you in replace Then maybe time would not erase me” My breath hitches in my throat, and I can feel the tears pricking in my eyes, getting ready to escape. I thought all my tears had dried up. “If you could only know I never let you go And the words I most regret Are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily” Finally, my legs start moving and I walk towards the grand piano where the boys make me jump by starting to play their perspective instruments. Charlie follows me and takes his place behind the microphone, the volume of his voice increasing along with the impact of his words. “Silent days Mysteries and mistakes Who'd be the first to break Guess we're alike that way” My legs give out now, and I drop down onto the piano’s stool. “He said, she said Conversations in my head And that's just where they're gonna stay forever” Tears are now rushing down my cheeks as if they have a race to win. All the while Charlie’s voice gets more and more vulnerable. “If I could take us back If I could just do that And write in every empty space The words I love you in replace Then maybe time would not erase me” I missed this boy with all of my heart. How did I even survive days without him? “If you could only know I never let you go And the words I most regret Are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily” The boys take a musical intermezzo, just singing out ‘aah’s while Charlie walks up to me. He holds my gaze, his eyes teary and filled with absolute sadness that breaks my heart into pieces. I can tell he’s missed me too. I can tell he’s trying to make amends using the only medium he knows so well. His voice now gets lower, and he’s singing the bridge to me with only his guitar guiding him. “If I could take us back If I could just do that And write in every empty space The words I love you in replace Then maybe time would not erase me” The boys now pick it back up too, making my heart swell and feel heavier and heavier with sadness. Sadness Charlie feels and resonates with me through his music. “If you could only know I never let you go And the words I most regret Are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily” He finishes off with a couple more chords on his guitar before completely stopping. “Charlie…” I sniffle, wiping my tears with the back of my hand, but he shakes his head. “Please, Emily, let me talk?” I nod my head to give him permission. “The boys and I, we’re really sorry for ruining your chance with the Music Academy. We tried, but we couldn’t get you a new audition. But we realized, all of us realized, that we didn’t want to be a band without you. We just couldn’t do it. You’re so important to all of us, you’ve changed all our lives for the better. There’s no way we could go on, knowing you were angry at us. So, I wrote this song for you since that’s the only way I seem to be able to convey how I feel…” I chuckle airily, making him chuckle too. “Please, Emily… I can’t not have you in my life.” “Can I talk?” He nods his head. “These past days have been really difficult for me. The Music Academy was my dream and to see that go up in flames, I don’t know, I felt like I couldn’t go on. But I realized that just because that one dream didn’t turn out as planned, I shouldn’t give up. I’m not saying I’m going to beg for another audition, because I am not. I considered it a sign that maybe that school isn’t for me,” the three boys are listening to me intently. “So, I though this morning, if I don’t have the Music Academy and I don’t have the band, I might as well just go to a parents-approved college.” Charlie glances at the rest of the band. “I mean, you do still have the band though?” Owen chimes in with a shy smile. “We can’t be Emily and The Foxes without Emily.” “Yeah, we’d just be The Foxes,” Jeremy adds with a light-hearted chuckle. I shake my head at him, a smile tugging at my lips. “I missed you guys,” I say. Charlie kneels down in front of me now. “So, what do you say, Emily? Will you join the band again?” he asks, which makes it look like he’s proposing to me. “Please?” He looks up at me with those puppy-dog eyes that I just cannot resist. Even Owen and Jeremy stare at me with hopeful eyes. “Hey, Jere,” I turn to the bassist, “I think there’s a jam you can play now.” He looks confused, but Charlie gets it and starts playing the chords to This Band is Back. “Come on, Jeremy!” Charlie counts us in, and Jeremy starts singing, placing his bass back in its stand to move freely while Owen moves away from the drums, tapping his body again. “Can you, can you hear me?” “Yep! Loud and clear!” I shout happily, jumping up from the stool. “Gotta get, gotta get ready” “'Cause it's been weeks!” I smile at Charlie’s lyric change. “Oh, this band is back,” Jeremy sings alone, grabbing my hand and twirling me around. “Oh, this band is back,” Owen, Charlie and I harmonize. We dance around the grand piano together, singing along loudly. “Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh This band is back!” Jeremy then grabs me by the waist and puts me on top of the piano, then jumping on himself. We all burst into a fit of laughter, and when we die down, I find Charlie staring at me with an endeared smile on his face. He tugs at the guitar strap, so his guitar is on his back instead. Jeremy and Owen take this as their cue to leave after both having kissed my cheeks. “So, now that the band is back… What about us?” he asks carefully. I take a deep breath. I haven’t given that a thought yet. “I don’t know, Charlie…” he looks like a hurt puppy. “I love you, but I just want to focus on the band and figuring out what I want to do with my life…” I bite the inside of my lip awaiting his response. It makes me wonder if he can hear my heartbeat. “That’s fair,” he says with a half-hearted smile, “Let’s focus on the band and become better friends instead.” His face lights up when my mouth curls upwards. “I’d like that,” I say, and hop off the piano to embrace him. “And, thanks for that song, by the way. It’s so beautiful! Definite Emily And The Foxes vibes,” I wiggle my eyebrows before walking up to Owen and Jeremy and hugging each of them. “I missed you so much!” Jeremy grunts into my ear as he picks me up from the floor. “I missed you guys too.” So much.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @ashleyleblancx @calamitykaty @lolychu @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @siennanoelle01 @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @luckylouiebug @kiss-themoongoodbye @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13

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uwua3 · 5 years ago

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Hi Bunnie! Your Misumi jealousy headcanon was so so amazing! Would it be okay to request the same hc but for Kazu, Tenma + Taichi? Ty and can't wait to see more from you! 🐰

oh my gosh! thank you so much!!! that makes me so happy to hear you enjoyed it; tbh i was a bit nervous due to the different take on misumi’s more thoughtful, erratic side so i’m glad it wasn’t too ooc! for you, i’d love to do a jealous hc for kazunari, tenma, and taichi! let’s GOOO !!!

summary: everyone gets their heart broken, and you were the cause of their broken hearts

warnings: anxiety, cheating, fake/toxic relationships, heartbreak, unrequited love

author’s note: i hope you enjoy it! thank you so much for your support ♡ this is definitely on the longer side for sure, i hope it’s worth the read!!!

i explored different types of jealousy for each person and how it would affect their daily lives! sometimes, the best thing to do is not act on your impulses. is it really worth losing a relationship with someone over? arguably, the only person with a “happy ending” would be taichi~ fair warning!

word count: 4,799 (total) — 2,078 (kazunari), 1,616 (tenma), 1,105 (taichi)

music: ghost heart – closure (kazunari), shouldn’t couldn’t wouldn’t – niki, rich brian (tenma), needs – verzache (taichi)

jealousy (pt.1)

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

it was so hard to always thrive off the attention of others when it was exhausting keeping a smile up

sure, kazunari was a burden when he was excited with his nonstop, loud rant about whatever he learned in his liberal arts university... but people seemed to like him even less when he was quiet and contemplative. he was the butt of the joke, so he had to fake it until he made it

he’d rather be the funny jokester of the group and be remembered as the tolerated clown than forgotten completely

kazunari wanted people to come to him, be his friend, and find him important in their life. kazunari wanted to be everyone’s favorite, the #1, the name you’d say when asked who your best friend was

but no one liked him like that. no one looked to him first when a joke was made to check if he was laughing, everyone assumed he was. but it was so much energy to keep this happy go lucky act and it began taking away from his art

envy made up every cell of his being as he saw groups of supportive friends, students congratulated in front of the class, and just happiness in general. kazunari was always jealous, he wanted so much. he wanted someone to be his best friend

and then, you aced the role with no auditions needed. you made the cut, you entered his life as kazunari’s best friend

you made an effort to include him in group activities, responded to his over–the–top DMs with too many emojis, and even amused him with his spontaneous ideas like road trips to the next town over for the hell of it

it didn’t matter if he called you at the crack of dawn, you picked up before the last ring with just as much enthusiasm to go wherever to make lifelong memories

kazunari didn’t have to pretend like he was full of energy around you, because he was! you charged him up to his full battery and he wouldn’t stop moving until he had you to himself for a few hours

at first, it started out by staying a little bit longer after group project meetings, offering to get absolutely buzzed on overpriced hipster coffee he had to perfect as a barista, and exchanging obvious notes in class while getting in trouble for snickering way too loud

then it became seeing premieres of movies kazunari honestly didn’t care about, he just wanted to do the yawn trick without getting made fun of. he liked dramatically fighting over the popcorn with you before pretending to give up, knowing damn well at the end he’d let you have all his snacks. movies became any event possible: single mixers that were just them huddling in a corner planning to make the most memorable exit ever, mall trips that had inappropiate fashion shows in the dressing rooms before getting kicked out, even beach visits year–round and complaining when the temperatures were too extreme but still having the sickest bonfire

all these moments were posted on his private, more personal instagram where his feed would have your face in every row (he also posted the extremely candid shots of you, he was sneaky with his camerawork). everyone with a social media account knew you guys were platonic soulmates, people destined to meet each other and be by their side for every lifetime

it moved into territory like bringing you to his favorite secret hideouts. eventually, it came down to places he knew his other friends would trash and poke fun at. he began trusting you with his most prized places. his safe space that became yours as well

even his art studio rented out at the border of the urban city with a water–damaged wooden floor. you would drop by everytime he didn’t respond to your text within 10 minutes, with plenty of food because you knew kazunari gets into an obsessive state with completing a project in one sitting. he let you in without a second thought even though you had the spare key; now you were lounging upon a thrifted sofa staring at the sunset

golden hour was gorgeous on you, kazunari thought out of no where, shocking him to the core when he nearly dropped his paintbrush onto the plastic covers. get a hold of yourself man! whatever, he always hyped you up, it wasn’t a big deal. it was just usually, intentional

you didn’t seem to notice, scrolling through your phone as your shadow giggled at something on screen. kazunari felt sick (and it wasn’t the cheap takeout), he hated not being in on the joke and getting left out. jealousy brewed at the pit of his stomach as he faked a childish huff to get your attention. you didn’t look over, too busy sending a meme to someone

“whatchu laughing at?” kazunari asked curiously as he resumed painting, to which you fidgeted under his gaze. shrugging nonchalantly, you pocketed your phone that pinged with a notification. the vibration caused you to read the screen immediately without a second thought. huh...

“just some guy.” you offhandedly mentioned, opening some dating app kazunari could pinpoint. he didn’t know you even liked those types of meet–ups, he dropped his brush this time before fumbling to pick it up as cool as possible

pretending to pay attention to the painting, he lost focus as he glanced at your frame. you looked so relaxed, so casual, who were you so close to? you always told him about the few partners you had, this one threw him for a loop

“guy? don’t tell me my best friend is falling in love~!” kazunari quipped, feigning a pose of shock like it was the worst thing he’s ever heard. honestly, maybe it was, or he was a damn good actor and those hours of practice were working. maybe they were if his best friend couldn’t even see past his facade

you blushed at the implication, but didn’t deny it. you just muttered something about having privacy and rolling over to your side, continuing to text at an inhuman speed

kazunari frowned slightly, drawing his eyebrows together as he couldn’t help but steal glances at your backside. usually he got a joke, a confirmation he was basically your boyfriend, and they both hysterically laughed about it at the end of the day. not this time, apparently

this time, it was different. next time he saw you wasn’t sitting next to him in class, or beneath his arm hiding from the scary film on the projector, it was at the café you frequented to see him. except, you were with someone else. kazunari hadn’t seen you in so long, ever since you were caught messaging someone else

you ordered the same thing as always, you didn’t even have to ask before kazunari had it ready for you. but his whole personality was jittery, like he accidentally ate the entire stock of cacao beans raw. he stammered and his tone fell flat, contrasting his lively speech and flair for drama. he looked... overwhelmed

kazunari spilt your date’s drink last second, his chaotic mind barely controlling his limbs as he knocked over the order. as you tried helping him, every customer saw kazunari hide back in the shell he tried so hard to break. he simply shook his head and delivered his customer service monologue about being very sorry and the next one was on the house

there was at least in attempt in sounding cheerful, but coach would’ve definitely cursed him out for his terrible performance. he knew he was showing too much teeth right now and his eyes were too big to be genuine, but he couldn’t do anything else without his foot tapping repetitively

when you shot him concerned side–eyes from their usual table by the window, you looked different in the orange��hued sky. you were gorgeous in golden hour, kazunari bitterly thought as he wiped down the surfaces until he could see his teary eyes staring back with disgust. he was letting his guard down in front of everyone, how lame

he could hear your walls coming down, you becoming attached to the hip with that date of yours as you two became the only customers left. he heard it all, the flirting, the conversations that would definitely lead to you going back to their place with them. he excused himself to his indifferent manager before hiding in the employee stall, sliding his back down against the wall to sit down on the cold tile floor

kazunari found dates boring. all they led to was him getting his unfinished meal in styrofoam boxes and taking an uber to your place to spill what happened like it was a daily struggle. you laughed and laughed, never having stories of your own since kazunari lived through a lifetime of them for the tall tales

kazunari wanted to go back to that, when both of you were single and laughing together about how absolutely dumb committed relationships were. who else would they need besides each other? kazunari remembered asking, knowing all they could trust in was each other forever

but more importantly, maybe kazunari wanted to be more than your best friend. you were the one who cured his constant artist’s blocks with just words of affirmation, the heartfelt gestures making his serotonin levels skyrocket to oblivion before maxing out on the motivation to create anything that would make your efforts worth it

kazunari thought he just did his best with his friends by his side. but, was it normal for friends to feel like this? kazunari began imagining a painting of a figure, of someone that looked like you, except they were so far away and out of his reach. he wanted to jump through the frame and find you, manifest you for him only

no matter what he did, he couldn’t get the face to resemble anything like yours, like you weren’t his to claim creative rights over anymore

kazunari was jealous. jealous of how easily passerbys fell in love with the way you made anyone feel like they were the main character of their own story. kazunari felt stupid, like he was your comic relief sidekick who so desperately would do anything to be your final love interest

alone, kazunari laughed pitifully to himself as he picked his head up to hear your voice through the thin walls. whatever elaborate joke you were playing on him, it wasn’t funny in the slightest

he only wanted you to laugh with him, hell, he’d go make a fool of himself at any time even if meant you laughed at him

you weren’t one of his artworks, yet you were a masterpiece compared to any canvas he could have made in his entire career

kazunari wanted to paint you in all the colors possible, make you see how you were the rainbow after his rainy life

pushing himself up, kazunari stumbled out of the bathroom before shaking his head. it wasn’t worth it, he got what he wanted, didn’t he? you’re still his best friend, you just loved someone else, that’s all. all he ever wanted was a best friend, why wasn’t he satisfied with that?

when would he stop being jealous? (when would he be your #1 boy? he thought against his will)

taking a deep breath to compose himself, kazunari smiled and waved at the new couple. he saw the relief on your face before you resumed the discussion with the most animated expression he hadn’t seen in a long time. he couldn’t even recall when

everything would go back to normal before you became kazunari’s best friend. you would begin hanging out with the other person more, taking them to all kazunari’s best events. you would eventually stop answering his calls because it interfered with the other person’s schedule. you’d have plans outside of him, and kazunari would go back to being by himself. he’d keep going on dates and stay till the end this time, searching for his #1

(he would have to mute your account after seeing your posts with them, but he never told you that)

kazunari heard something other than you. he looked towards the window: it was raining again, again, and again. he opened his smartphone to take a picture:

kaz–PIKO [new post!]: i hope this rain ends soon!!!

it didn’t, at least, not for a very long time

🌻☀️ sumeragi tenma

tenma was what you would call, gifted. grew up with successful, charistmatic parents who watched his every move like a hawk, never giving him the time to improve from his mistakes

so every time he didn’t immediately get something, he’d give up and find other things to beat others at

the only thing he did that was acceptable to his father was acting, so he never looked back

tenma became a headliner of countless blockbuster movies and walked the red carpet as a fabricated actor with no authenticity

magazines labelled tenma as the playboy with on & off again relationships, although they were staged by his label to make him appear like some heartbreaker

truth was, he’s just like every other high school student who was really bad at focusing on academics (and had definitely not been in a real relationship)

but tenma was famous, fake friends came and went every time his popularity rose, hitting him up for favors. it was okay, he was famous, anyways. it’s not like he needed a bunch of no–bodies

at least, that’s what he told himself every time he sat with his parents at awards banquets with no one to share his success

(tenma was not jealous at all of stars with full rows of people of their friends who were always so loud and supportive)

(it wasn’t awkward going up on stage to receive a trophy with only polite clapping in the background)

you got cast as tenma’s next love interest

you were supposed to be a fake relationship that lasted longer than every other person he’s been with before

you were an up and coming actress full of potential and enthusiasm to boot, ready to take on in the industry like you were the biggest threat around

but it was clear, you loved acting

you loved playing different characters like they were an extension of yourself, paying close attention to other people’s habits so you could incorporate it in your own persona

it was strange—meeting someone who loved acting at its core and didn’t do it for the money. most people wanted their name in lights, drama with them in the middle, to have an adoring fanbase. who actually liked acting as an art form?

tenma was sure you were just hiding something, lying about your sweetheart public image to gain fans

you and tenma became public by having a public brunch date (tenma hated brunch, it was so pointless!) where photographers hid in bushes to take expensive pictures of tenma’s newest girl

tenma at first put on a facade, pretending to be the cocky star everyone made him out to be by flexing his muscles with a charming but practiced wink. why not, right? every girl loved that!

all of a sudden, you were gripping the tablecloth, dying laughing as you tried your best to stifle your outrageous response. tenma grew hot under the collar when it was clear you were very much a real, hard to hide your feelings type person off screen

immediately, he told you off in an aggressive manner but before he could apologize for being so suddenly boyish, you retorted back just as quickly. the friendly banter between you two sent sparks flying from the electric energy

those staged acts didn’t have any effect on you (unless he was in the mood for some serious jokes which he gladly fought back) so a genuine friendship formed

due to you both being competitive at heart, you guys were always caught in a friendly rivalry where you two shared real bonding moments together

your chemistry was off the charts (your managers were both very pleased with the outcome, oblivious to tenma’s defensive no ways!)

tenma’s favorite memory was ditching a panel interview without his parent’s permission to go blow his money on a popular chain arcade im the mall he could most definitely afford with his credit card. it was impulse but he texted you the address and miracously, you showed up on your own

both of you wore the worst disguises possible: snapbacks and funky graphic tee shirts as if you two were just regular students. tenma tried everything that even caught his eye, and you knew he wasn’t entirely happy with anything he got despite winning ten games already

clearly he wasn’t getting distracted enough, something must have happened on set

so you made a bet, whoever won the basketball hoops game would take all the tickets. you knew this would ignite the competitive flame within tenma

“you’re on!” tenma declared, shaking your hand with a firm grip and wolfish grin. that would be one of the last times tenma saw you as “one of the boys”

it was when you finally won against his bruised ego but chose a prize for him that tenma realized, he liked you for you. normally, he’d be showering his fake partner with stuffed animals before being ditched on the street corner, the plastered smiles gone and replaced with nasty annoyance

(he’d never admit it, but even the fake affection was nice while it lasted)

no one really liked him for him, he was just another famous teen actor with passable looks to be the side boyfriend

yet, you still got him something despite winning, giving him the plant and ignoring his surprised face

it wasn’t expensive, but it was the most meaningful gift he’s ever received

it was the first time tenma was given a present like that: a tiny bonsai tree

“maybe that’ll teach you some responsibility!” you joked, pushing him teasingly as he just stared at the little tree, feeling like something inside grew as well

he ignored it by challenging you to a DDR tournament (you won, again)

tenma began seeing the bonsai as a symbol of your friendship with him, and it felt good to finally have someone who would go out of their way to be his friend

(as a result, the bonsai was as healthy as ever)

but maybe, his macho–man act turned you off the wrong way and made him seem like a spoiled rich kid. you never could open up seriously about problems you had without laughing at tenma’s serious face, always messing up his bright orange hair and calling him a loser

tenma was tired of being a kid in your eyes, he wanted to be your manly boyfriend that wasn’t just a legacy actor

he was jealous every time you talked about your actual friends from home, who you shared everything with and made them out like they were the best people on the planet

it was silly, but did you think about him like that? did your friends even know you were with him?

tenma, for the first time, wanted a relationship that was more than just a publicity stunt. he wanted to be your boyfriend, more than just the faker

he wanted to meet your friends, then your family, and learn more about who you actually were. know what you were made up of, past the glamarous movie lifestyle he knew too well

tenma wanted to stop lying to the media because you deserved the truth

tenma wanted to recite his script about love but mean it, pretending like he was staring into your eyes and delivering the best performance of his life (if you ignore the fact he almost said your name)

but every time you guys went out, you acted like you were a babysitter and tenma was a child. you never could see him as a potential partner, just a rival who reacted like a brother would

but you read his behavior all wrong

(though honestly, tenma took every opportunity possible to have you close, because he knew you’d never be his again)

by the time the contract was up, tenma was too late. you were ruffling his hair and smiling like a sibling would, commenting on how fun it was to be with him and he could call you up anytime for tutoring. to you, he was just some high schooler who needed you to study with

but to tenma, he had caught feelings and there was nothing he could do about it

tenma would soon see the tragic news titles of how japan’s favorite it–couple split and you moved onto someone else

(someone much more serious and cool than he was, unfortunately)

tenma began booking roles in much more different films, ones with much more somber tones and melancholy scenes that fit his jealousy perfectly (he was often reviewed as having a “real connection” to his character, like he lived through the pain)

tenma noticed the way you were around the same age as your idol partner, how you actually held his hand while blushing for once. you even kissed them and hugged them in front of the cameras, which you refused to do with tenma, saying it would be weird to kiss a kid

tenma was jealous. jealous how he wasn’t as grown up as you wanted him to be. how he wasn’t mature and had a fiery temper and didn’t think things through. but his next partner was assigned and he had an outing with them soon

as soon as tenma met up with them, he flashed a picture perfect smile and heard the cameras flash behind him. they seemed to like that

his new partner didn’t question a thing as tenma addressed them by your name without noticing

that day, tenma came home to his bonsai dying, despite watering it properly

tenma gave up on you, despite the jealousy. if he wasn’t good at this dating game, there was no need to try anymore

he didn’t return back to that arcade for a while

🍁🛹 nanao taichi

the moment taichi saw you, he was convinced you were the one like every hopeless romantic out there

he was literally blown away. the wind picked up stronger when he saw you and he swore he saw red hearts around you

pretending to skateboard like he was just passing by, he bumped into you on veludo way and pretended like he had no idea where he was going

“sorry! i’m a bit lost... could you help me?” taichi paired it with his puppy eyes and tragic pout, unaware he was a bunny face to face with a wolf in sheep’s clothing

but you recognized him, the famous actor from mankai’s autumn troupe

yet, you pretended to follow his plan, knowing how quickly mankai was regaining its popularity status in theatre

(hey, maybe you’d even get free stuff if you played your cards right)

then began your relationship with taichi, where he was head over skates for you and did everything in his power to make you stay

taichi rearranged his schedule for you, staying up countless hours into the next day just to text you and have every possible moment with you

taichi always reserved you front row seats for every mankai production, sometimes even bringing you backstages despite the warnings from his other members

(they never really liked you, especially not the way you had so much control over taichi)

“taichi... you look tired. are you okay?” omi asked one day, when taichi had been on his phone the entire meal and anxiously fidgeted for a reply

(you sometimes did that just to mess with him a little, by leaving his multiple messages on read) (he hated it)

“me? i’m doing the best i could be!” taichi exclaimed, sneaking a glance at his screen to still see it dark

when omi carefully nodded and turned around, taichi’s posture slouched and the insomnia he was developing just to talk began catching up to his performance

taichi did everything a perfect boyfriend did in plays: wrote you love letters (you never read them), created thoughtful playlists that flowed well (you never listened), even learning new fun talents just to impress you (you never paid attention)

it was never enough to make you see him as more than a key to the theatre industry

to you, taichi was nothing more than a loyal puppy on a leash

taichi didn’t realize how tight his collar was until he was confronted by his troupe members, all who were as serious as it got with them

“what’s up?” taichi offered, faking a grin and suppressing the yawn building in his throat. the bags under his eyes were dark, and his blue eyes were dull. he hadn’t slept in so long. he was low on money for buying too many things. he couldn’t remember the last time he finished a meal

omi exchanged looks with the others, knowing he had to be the one to deliver the news because well, maybe he’d soften the blow a bit better

it must be bad if even juza and banri are not fighting, taichi mused, not really listening until he heard:

“—they’re cheating on you, taichi.”

taichi’s head snapped up, his body becoming rigid from the accusation. his sight landed on a digital image on banri’s phone screen, where you were clearly all over another person

(taichi remebered them, they were your lockscreen. he never questioned it)

(even if he was always jealous of how you hung out with every other friend much more than him, you own boyfriend!)

there was nothing to justify. banri explained how he and juza came upon them at the mall, and he was sorry

(it wasn’t banri’s fault, but he apologized because he was genuinely sorry for all taichi went through)

it’s not like he could say anything, the photo was clear as day! but taichi’s fists were tight by his side and he stood up defiantly

“that’s not true! maybe, that’s just their friend! or family member! i trust them, stop making baseless claims against them!” taichi knew he was making a scene, but it gave him a window to storm out of the front door and run down the sidewalk

“taichi!” he heard, but no one dared followed him. maybe he needed to face it by himself and open his eyes

they’d be back waiting for him at the end of the day when he finally realized he didn’t deserve to be in a toxic situation like this

(taichi did so much to become even better, just so you would like him more... it never worked)

taichi stopped at the park, panting deeply and leaning forward to catch his breath

this couldn’t be possible! he was the perfect boyfriend, right? he did everything for you... what wasn’t enough? when would he be enough?

but the proof was right there. taichi could see you with the same person in the image right in front of him

that’s when it hit. you knew taichi had acting practice right now, he wouldn’t know any better

all the pent–up anger within him exploded, his desperation masking a much more weak, unstable truth: fear of abandonment and the unrequited jealousy of the other person, no matter how much he hated to admit it

taichi was jealous. jealous of how you liked everyone else so much better than him, taichi wanted to be better, for you

but you were gonna leave him, toss him aside like your time together was nothing, like he was nothing

you never loved him, you liked the attention

taichi finally saw the signs, the red flags you were manipulative and knew he was easy enough to twist and break. he opened his eyes and you hadn’t even noticed him

but then, he tried to tell himself maybe he actually liked that, but it sounded hollow and fake even to him

taichi had to say no now

taichi was hurt, but he couldn’t show that to you anymore. you didn’t deserve the privilege having a say in his feelings anymore

walking by and pretending to bump into you, your face didn’t change as you saw him, simply raising an eyebrow in question

“just leave me for somebody else,” taichi humorlessly laughed, staring at the way you felt nothing for him

you stepped onto his heart and broke it, there was nothing else to say. even then, he wish he was the person you loved, even if it killed him

“enjoy yourself.” taichi finished, knowing these would be the last words he would ever say to you before returning back to the dorms

he didn’t look back, not anymore

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