#tonight was one of those moments in life where you’re just overflowing with happiness and want to capture the way it feels forever

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

Tonight I got to see a touring production of Hadestown and it was SO GOOD!!! I love watching live theatre so much :D

[ddarker-dreams]

Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications.  Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too… everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. “See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ” 

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” 

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

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

if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨

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. 

[writersblog20]

Comfort in the darkest hours

Henry Cavill x Reader

Not my picture. Credts to maker!

Summary: You’ve always had bad nightmares and Henry your boyfriend of a year knew that. The nightmares settled down once you were with him because you feel so safe but one night they came back. Henry takes care of the reader. 

Warnings: PTSD, Anxiety, nightmares, nudity but nothing sexual. And a lot of fluff and care taking for the reader.

Words: 2K

A/N This is really a comfort fic since i have really bad nightmares again

Comfort in the darkest hours.

 You and Henry, your boyfriend of a year now, had a quiet night in. You both cooked dinner and walked Kal. It was snowing pretty heavy so everything was hidden in the snow. It always calmed you down and you felt a peace when it snowed. The world didn’t seemed so dark when it snowed. So you played with Kal in the snow while Henry was taking pictures of you. After a while you both got cold and decided to go home. Henry held your hand tightly and gave you kisses on your head.

Once arrived home Henry dried of Kal and you got rid of the heavy clothes. Henry walked in the room where you stood in your lingerie. He just looked at you and tried to take all of you in. he walked slowly towards you still in the big jacket which was now wet because of the melted snow. He pulled you in for a kiss. you shivered at his cold hands touching you back. you both decided it would be nice to take a hot bath together.

You made the bath with all the essential oils and bubbles. You already got in the bathtub.  Henry came in naked and you looked at the bear of a man, smiling to yourself how you could be this lucky. He had a grin on his face and replicated the scene from superman with Lois in the bathtub. You giggled and you saw indeed that the water from the tub was overflowing. He kissed you passionately and instead of getting behind you, he sat in front of you. His legs by your side and yours by his. He softly took your feet in his hand and started massaging it a bit and kissed them after he was done. You smiled at him, he was indeed very clingy today but you didn’t mind it one bit. You both needed it for some reason.

Once you both got warm again you got out and dried each other off. You both didn’t say a lot to each other but it wasn’t necessary at all. All the actions, smiles, kisses and touches spoke for themselves. It was nice like this. You both sat down on the couch with blankets and tea. The candles were lit and the curtains to the backyard were open you could see the snow falling. You let Henry choose a movie since you both kind of liked the same movie genres so it was never an issue. You pulled the bear towards you and he rested his head on your lap. You stroked his hair softly until he spoke up: “ I’ve never been this happy in my life. I love you y/n” you smiled contantly at him. “I love you too Henry so much.” he just held you a little tighter.

After the movie was over you both decided to call it a night. Even though you had a relaxing night, anxiety creeped up all of sudden. You tried to stay relaxed and tried pushing it away. Henry climbed in and you immediately clung to him which made him chuckle in a low grumble. You smiled against his chest. after a make out session you just held each other and drifted off to sleep.

~time skip~

You had once again a very bad nightmare. They went away for a couple of moths but you always had times where they came back and once they did it was bad. You were covered in sweat and your breathing was heavy. Heart feeling like it was pounding out of your chest. The nightmare was so bad that you were to scared to fall asleep again. You tried getting your heartrate to a normal pace again but it felt useless. Henry must have noticed. He opened his eyes slowly but when he saw you sitting against the headboard with your knees tucked close to you he knew you had a very bad nightmare. He immediately sat up and held you while you started crying. He could feel your heartbeat going crazy. “Hey you’re safe now! I won’t let anyone hurt you!” he whispered to you. You were a very strong woman but at this moment you were extremely fragile, and Henry knew that. He would always love you in moments like this with so much care and showed his extreme soft side because he knew you needed that to feel safe again.

It wasn’t like babying you, he was just as soft as he could be to take care of you and get you out of your bad mental state. He saw that your eyes were as wide as they could get as you were panting. “I can’t go to sleep now… I’ll make some tea downstairs. Don’t worry, go back to sleep.” You told him trying to sound strong but your voice gave you away clear as day. “No I’m staying with you, sweetheart.” You were too tired to argue so you both climbed out of bed. “do you want to talk about it?” he asked you softly while his hand went over your hair with a sad smile on his face. You just shook your head and he nodded.

You went to look out of the window while Henry made you both some chamomile tea to calm you down for what it’s worth. He held a close eye on you. The snow was still falling and you felt the tears slip on your cheek. Henry came back with the tea. He looked at you and put it on the table. He softly turned you around and wiped the tears away with his thumb and gave you a kiss on your nose slowly going to your forehead where his lips lingered, he softly put his arms around you and took you in an embrace. He could feel that your heartbeat and your breathing was still not stable. He took your hand and sat you on the couch. he sat you on his lap, face to face and your legs around him. You buried your head in his neck and he held you tightly. “Focus on my heartbeat and breathing love.” You nodded.

You didn’t know how long you sat there with him, you could feel his hands rubbing circles underneath your (his) shirt. So you had more skin to skin contact to bring you back in the here and now as they call it. His other arm was wrapped around you and slowly went over your hair. You sat as close to him as possible. Once you calmed down a bit Henry praised you. “Good girl, Are you back with me?” he asked you. “almost.” Was all you could say in a whisper. Henry looked outside and had an idea. “well, almost is a step. Why don’t we get some fresh air?” he asked you. “Aren’t you tired?” you asked him softly. “you are my priority right now, tomorrow we’ll have a nice comfy day in, and just relax. So don’t worry. I’ll cross the world for you if I had to.” You looked at him with glassy eyes. he looked sincere and you knew there wasn’t a lie been told.

You nodded and he gave you a long kiss before you both stood up but he didn’t trusted your legs yet so he held onto you for a little longer. He helped you to get your ski pants on and your jacket. He put his beanie on your head which made you giggle softly which made him smile at you. He gave you a kiss on your forehead. “You look cute” he told you and chuckled. Everything you wore right now was way too big for you, because of the thickness of the clothes.

He got his clothes on too and took your hand in his. Kal patted along with you but stayed by your side. Kal knew you didn’t feel well so he was your second protector. You heard the snow crack underneath your shoes. The cold air hitting your face did you well and you started talking about the multiple nightmares you had to endure that night. His face was written with sympathy. “thank you for all that you did tonight.” Henry looked at you in surprise that you had the audacity to thank him. But he also loved that about you because he felt just as cared for and needed as you felt once he wrapped his arms around you. “I’ll never stop until they don’t stop. I will always be here for you. by your side love. I’m not letting go, ever.” You looked up at him and gave him a kiss. “You completely back to me now?” you nodded with a soft smile.

“good let’s get back and make some new tea. I bet the others are cold now.” you both chuckled and made your way back into the warmth of the house. Henry put on some warm lights and you sat on the counter while Henry was making tea next to you. He knew you needed extra loving and he had no problem what so ever to give that to you.

You both sat down on the couch and you took a seat in Henry’s lap while he kept you close to him. he got a book that laid next to him on the small table and softly started reading it to you. if you could you would almost crawl into him so you did the best you could and curled up in a ball into his lap. You felt safe again. You both sipped your tea and you felt yourself grew tired again, Henry noticed and asked you: “Do you want to stay here or go back to bed?” you thought about it but decided it would be better for the both of you to go back to bed. “Let’s go to bed.” You told him and he nodded. He took you bridal style of the couch and carried you to bed. It didn’t matter how heavy you were or how thin, he was a bear of a man, and a very strong one for all that matters so he had no problem carrying you.

He laid you down in bed and put a soft warm light on ( like a salt lamp) and softly put on some comfort songs for you that he knew you loved. It wasn’t loud but enough for you to peacefully get back to sleep and he had no trouble sleeping with those things if it meant that you had good night sleep. You loved him so much for all the things he did. He crawled into the bed next to you and pulled you almost on top of him while he stroked your hair. “how is this?” he asked and looked at you with only love in his eyes. “I love you so much, bear,” You told him getting a little teary for all the sweet things he did. He smiled brightly at you. “I love you too dove, so much! Now let’s try to get some sleep. I’m here with you. I’m not going away and I’ll be here when you wake up” he softly placed his lips against yours while he stroked your cheek. He gave you one last head kiss for the evening and laid your head softly back on his chest. he rested his head on top of yours and rubbed your back so you knew he was there. You drifted off but had no nightmares this time all you dreamed off was Henry and you happy together.

[moonctzeny]

baby, we're two strangers

pairing: jeong jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2,255

summary: "When you attend your company's black mask party, you expect free booze and boring small talk with your co-workers. What you don't expect is to meet a cute stranger, who's more than willing to take you out of your misery. You don't know anything about him, not even his name, only the two deep dimples adorning his cheeks"

warnings:  alcohol consumption, fingering, cunnilingus, smut in public (what else did you expect from me), jaehyun is a little on the subbier side at some point(??) but not really

a/n: happy birthday to our precious jaehyun! hope you like this anon, sorry it took so long :(

You always thought those business parties were a pain in the ass. You barely managed to go through 5 days a week with your co-workers without committing first degree murder, now you had to see them during your precious weekends too? The thought of you starting small talk with the lady at the front desk, or having to laugh with your boss’s terrible humour all night made you sick to your stomach. But alas, you know how much your supervisor loved those kinds of parties, and your wallet needed that promotion. He’d lecture you about how they cultivate group spirit and strengthen the company’s teamwork. You just saw it as an excuse to get drunk free of charge.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you spot a stray hair that escaped the adhesion of your new hairspray, and you quickly brush it to place with your fingers. Your favourite black dress hugged your body, simple jewellery decorated your skin. You don’t even know why you bothered with eye makeup, the obligatory black mask for tonight’s dress code hiding most of your face already, with the exception of your red lipstick. You wonder whether the people who just quickly rushed by you in the hallways, too focused on their own deadlines and to-do lists would even recognize you.

The party was boring, just like you predicted. You’d given up long ago in trying to keep the conversation going with Matt from the IT department (who proved to be the most boring man on earth, apparently) and planted yourself right next to the booze table. You had your own little wine tasting party in the past hour, trying aged drinks from 10 years ago up to vins ordinaires. The alcohol relaxed your muscles and left a pleasant buzz in your head, effectively drowning out the dj’s playlist that only had hit songs from 2016. You were content in your solitude, satisfied with just staring at your co-workers interacting with each other, noticing who disliked who, who were the funny ones, who needed help with social interactions. But your comfortable loneliness wouldn’t last for long. 

“Mind if I join you?”

Ugh. Just what you needed. Matt from the IT department probably told his buddy, Ben - who keeps rudely staring at your skirts at work - that you’re here and informed him about your location. Maybe if you ignored him he would go away. Or maybe you’d just tell him that you suddenly need to go to the bathroom. Had he ever heard you speak? You wonder if he’d believe you if you told him you were deaf, actually.

You turned around to face the man, hoping that he didn’t know sign language when you finally made eye contact with him. This definitely wasn’t Ben. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life.

He was tall, with loose curls adorning the top of his head. His porcelain skin seemed to absorb all the light in the room, then send it out three times as bright. He looked fit, his small waist cinched in with the buttons of his suit, filled in fully in all the right places. You could only manage a deranged hum that barely sounded human. 

Through the small holes of the black mask he was also wearing, you can tell he was staring at you. You tried to keep the eye contact but failed miserably, your heart picking up a pace that sure can’t be healthy.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Do you work in the IT department on the bottom floor, maybe?”

You clear your throat, begging the wine in your system not to mess this up for you by making a fool of yourself. “I also work on the top floor. Maybe you just didn’t notice me before.”

“No no”, he insists, taking a sip from his drink as well while raking up and down at you with his eyes, “I would definitely remember”.

Your cheeks are burning up at this point and you leave your drink at the table, not trusting your clammy hands to not drop the 2017 Merlot all over the floor. You were done acting like boo boo the fool. You weren’t gonna let this one slip away.

“It’s weird, I don’t remember you either. And you seem like such nice company”

He smiles at your reciprocation and you almost gasp at the appearance of two deep dimples on his cheeks, framing his lovely smile. He looks like a mixture of a prince and what you pictured Edward Cullen to look like when you were reading The Twilight Saga as a teenager.

“What department do you work at, then?”

You have to roll your eyes. The wine has made you a little impatient, and the heat of your body was getting hard to ignore.

“Here’s the thing Dimples, one thing I really fucking hate is small talk. So how about you really entertain me out of this boring party?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden confidence, yet amused either way. He doesn’t miss the fact that you’re the one checking him out now, your whole body leaning against him.

“I figured I should be a gentleman first”

“I don’t want a gentleman. I need a distraction”

He flashes you those dimples again and you get the sudden urge to tackle him.

“I see. Wanna get out of here?”

You didn’t need to hear more. Taking his hand, you lead the mysterious stranger outside the hall area the party was held at, finding an empty bathroom. You felt naughty dragging a man - a stranger at that - to a place like this, reminding you of your days as a teenager. A cold breeze sneaking through the little window spread goosebumps all over the skin of your legs that was uncovered by your short dress, yet you were hyper aware of the heat emitted from the man’s body.

The moment your hands left the rotating lock, you felt his body towering over yours, then the pressure of his soft lips. He tasted sweet, like the liquor he had enjoyed earlier, his hands snaking around your waist to bring you even closer against him. You kissed with vigor and a passion that was burning in your belly, and you suck on his tongue to show him a sneak peek of your talents. He moans in your mouth, a deep rumble that you gladly swallow up, your fingers tugging on his locks in hope you get another one out of him.

You do, and he’s had enough, wrapping his hands around your legs and lifting you up on the counter. He’s sitting right between your legs, right where you want him most, and your dress has now well ridden up, only one layer between you. He seems to be thinking the same thing as his teeth are breaking the skin of your neck, one hand behind you on the mirror, staining the glass.

“Can I make you feel good?”, he asks with a voice filled with arousal and the want to please. In that moment, you wanted to moan out his name, followed by a ‘yes, please’ but you realised you never asked for it, and it didn’t really matter at this point. 

You nod back pleadingly, your eyes watery with how much you’re desperate for any sort of friction. He lifts the hand that had been kneading the soft skin of your hips, and places his thumb right over your lips. Like a reflex, your tongue peeks out from between your teeth, tasting the saltines of his finger. He moves it further inside, satisfied with the feeling and your tongue dancing around it, and when he has finally pushed half of it in you start to suckle the digit. 

The stranger’s eyes haven’t left your lips for a second, completely mesmerized by your mouth’s work and he messes up your red lipstick a bit, dragging his finger down your chin, leaving a red line behind. Dipping his thumb back in your mouth again, he lets you suck a little more until you have coated it with a satisfying amount of spit, then brings it right over your panties.

They are cotton, dampened from the moisture of his fingers and your own arousal. He applies pressure right over your clit, just enough to see you squirm on that counter, then continues to draw figure eights over the fabric. His finger dips in your opening on the lower curve of the number and you feel yourself get wetter, holding on tightly to the man’s broad shoulders and moaning in satisfaction.

He shuts you up with a kiss, nibbling on your lower lip as he pushes you panties aside, and you’re a little embarrassed with the printed watermelons they have on them. He toys with you a little, spreading your wetness around before finally dipping in, smirking at the way your head falls back. 

The heels of your feet are sitting stubbornly on the marble surface of the counter, knees next to your shoulders to give your new friend as much access as he needed. There was no time for you to be ashamed for showing him all of you, the pleasure was overflowing and ripping out your seams. He starts a trail of kisses from the junction of your next, sucking and licking his way to your chest, and frees one of your boobs with his other hand. The cold and arousal has your nipple stay erect and he seems to enjoy the view, sucking lightly and then harshly, while following the same pace petting your pussy. 

“Am I a good company?”, he asks you then, and you’d expect his tone to be teasing but it’s anything but. He’s looking back at you with wide eyes, expecting your feedback and you pet his hair, lowering his head down with the tiniest bit of pressure so that his mouth reconnects with your chest.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Are you going to make me cum?”

He nods eagerly and you lift him up with the collar of his shirt, and you know his expensive cologne will dwell on your fingers after you’re done. You bring him into a kiss, tasting his lips before you whisper over them.

“Then you have to try a little harder”

You could practically see the determination in his eyes, and he wastes no time as he immediately gets on his knees. His breath is cool over your hot core, the feeling sending tingles down your spine. The anticipation is so high that when his tongue finally comes in contact with your sensitivity you almost yelp. 

His talent isn’t limited to his fingers, you think as he leaves kitten licks over your clit, giving the bundle of nerves a gentle suck periodically. Just as you’re getting used to the soothing circles of his tongue he dips one more finger in, successfully stretching you open and you bite your hand to stifle your moans. You’re worried that your wetness will drip down to the floor but then you’re reminded of your panties, the friction of the fabric stimulating you even more. 

“I’m gonna cum”, you moan in a high pitched tone, bracing both you and the man feasting over you on his knees. One last suck and you’re thrown over the edge, legs shaking as you’re desperately trying to hold yourself in place, before you fall or crush his head with your thighs. He lets you ride out your high, still dipping his fingers in and out slowly, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible. When you both feel like you’re done he gets up again, drying up his chin that is wet with your come. The tent in his slacks is painfully visible, and you rub over it seductively as you also rub your still exposed nipple.

“How about I pay you back”

The stranger doesn’t have time to answer, a loud knock making you both jump in shock and you quickly get decent again.

“Is someone still in there? I really need to use the bathroom”

“Coming!”

“Yes!”

You facepalm at the dumb mistake, exposing yourselves so easily at the man on the other side of the door. He lets out a rumbling laugh, and if there was really such a thing as ‘the end of the world’ you wish to any god out there that it happens right now.

“Ahh, I get what’s going on. You keep at it kids, another bathroom became available just now. And use protection!”

You bury your face in the stranger’s shoulder, and you feel him laugh silently at the ridiculousness of the situation. He opens the door just a slither, and when he makes sure no one is waiting for you outside the bathroom, he leads you back to the main hallway.

“So that was…”

“...hot”, he finishes your sentence with a naughty smile and you swear those dimples are gonna kill you.

“My name is y/n”, you say and firmly shake his hand, the gesture too formal compared to the things you’ve just finished doing together, “I still want to thank you for that, if you do too, of course”

“Jaehyun”, he says right back, then rubs the skin right under your lips with his thumb, and his fingertip comes back red. “Sorry for that, I got a bit carried away. You have nice lips.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun”

[alreadyblondenow]

Never get to hold you | Lee Haechan

Lee Haechan x female!reader x Lee Jeno

▸ Fluff, smut, angst? Haechan is poor ▸ Part of To All the Members I’ve Loved Before: Dear 127, hosted by me ​

Summary: Growing up in a fucked up household, Haechan has always been thankful for his friend Jeno for treating him like his real brother. From giving him food, to letting him stay in their big house, to lending him money for school. Jeno has always been an angel. Until one day, Haechan found another angel, you. Finally his life is now brighter than ever… but not for long, because Jeno likes you too. Will Haechan let this once in a lifetime love slip and give you to his true friend who’s always been nice to him? Or will he be selfish?

Work count: 6k flat amazing

Warnings: Smut, toxic household, mentions of parents fighting, Haechan is poor here, if you are not okay with the idea please click away. Unprotected sex, couch sex, mentions of rough sex, overstimulating, Haechan smoked one cigarette, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of Haechan’s sister, break up, slight cheating? but not really A/N: Pure fiction. Haechan’s character here is inspired by Justin Fooley from 13 reasons why. And the friendship is inspired by Bryce and Justin’s friendship. hehe. Originally this is a cheating au, but I’ve been writing a lot of cheating au so.... lets do the right thing for now. HAHA. also I did not include a lot of smut just because it doesn’t fit the story so i hope you understand that and still enjoy reading this. <3 

A peaceful night that’s what Haechan longs for. A night free from the screaming and shouting of his parents, the glass shattering and never-ending blaming. He turns the volume up of the song he’s listening to from his mp3 player, closed his eyes, and tried sleeping. It’s not calming or whatsoever but it’s better than hearing the bickering.

For Haechan, sleep does not fix anything but it sure does make him feel better once he wakes up and finally faces another fun day in school. Yes. That’s right, Haechan loves going to school for it makes him feel like he’s a normal person. Not everyone in school knew how fucked up his life is and that’s another thing why he loves going to school. School and his friends have been his escape.

“You’re coming tonight right?” Jeno sneaks from behind and swings an arm on his best friend.

“Of course I’ll be there. I have to drive your drunk ass home-“ Haechan jokes but he was soon interrupted by something so unfortunate.

His shoes gave up on him.

“I think I should go and get this fixed before class starts. Not again,” Haechan said, stopping to remove his worn-out shoes and check them further while Jeno watch him.

“I have my Balenciaga shoes in my locker I don’t use that anymore. If you don’t want to keep it or accept it, at least use it for the day,” Jeno smiles at his friend and pats his back. But before Haechan could even say no to his best friend, Jeno is long gone for the school bell rang already.

Every since Haechan is new in town, Jeno has been a good friend to him. Both very different boys but they are brothers by heart and got each other’s back. For Haechan, Jeno is an angel to which he almost feels bad for not giving something in return for all the things Jeno gave him. Not just material things but Jeno offers financial help to Haechan too, in fact, Jeno is the reason why Haechan’s mother got a job at a store Mrs. Lee owns.

So you see, being a loyal and true friend is the only thing Haechan can give in return for now.

After school, Haechan fixed his wretched shoes before going to his part-time job. There, while he looks over the convenience store, he does his homework on the side and makes sure that he studies in advance so he can get closer to the college and scholarship that he’s aiming for and finally get out of this hell hole.

“You like studying so much?”

A voice made him drop his pen and went to work immediately. Punching the cashier and putting the stuff you bought in a plastic bag with a shy smile. A shy smile that miraculously lights up your day, he’s like a sun you thought.

“College. You’re new here right? I saw you earlier with the student body president. I’ve been there, being new in town will get easier... with the right people” Haechan says.

“Well, I had a bad first day, but thank you.... Hyuck. It’s great to know that eventually, everything will get better ” you read his name tag and smiled so sweetly at him. Oh, you wish it’s not obvious that you’re flirting.

When you left you’re all he could think of. He can’t stop thinking about your smile, how it’s obvious that you’re flirting with him but he thinks you’re so cute rather than flirty, he even beats himself up for not asking your name and making you stay longer.

As he walks his way home under a quiet night and with nothing in his head but your smile, he replays his only memory of you in his head while smiling alone and looking like a complete idiot. But when he was just a few walks from his house, he hears the screaming and shouting again.

He ran towards the door and straight to his sister’s room, not giving a fuck about why his parents are fighting. He hugs his little sister who’s in tears and basically shaking from fear, keeping her close to him to let her know that he is here now. And this is the sadness and reality he had to face every day.

“You scared?” He whispers but his face shows no fear to show his sister that his big brother is ready to protect her.

“Where were you?” She whines and snuggles to her brother more.

“I was at work, sorry. You know something wonderful happened to me today,” Haechan ready himself to tell his sister how you two met for the first time. She has always loved Hyuck’s stories and she’s always interested in the people his brother is friends with, especially Jeno.

“Well, why didn’t you ask her name? Will you see her again?” She asks eagerly. “I want more stories about her, she sounds sweet even though your conversation was too short”

“Yeah I know. Maybe I can talk to her by Monday and tell her, ‘hey my little sister wants us to be friends’” he jokes.

And so the night went on, exchanging stories with his sister until his parents stopped fighting and eventually his sister fell asleep in his arms. To be honest,  he didn’t want to leave his sister alone after what happened tonight, but he promised Jeno that he will be there so he needs to be there.

Going to Jeno’s birthday celebration in a bar downtown is the last thing he wants to do after having a hard night. The bar was loud, packed, and it’s giving him a headache. So he promised himself that he will stay here for half an hour only, which did not happen because his heart feels heavy.

So he went out to have a cigarette and to clear his mind, having a debate with his conscience whether he’s going back in or not.

“The answer is no,” you said from behind which made him turn immediately and face you. “I’m watching you for a few minutes already and your feet is obviously hesitating to go back inside”

“It’s that obvious? Am I really that easy to read?” he takes one final hit from his cigarette before he throws it away. You nod with a smile to answer his question. It’s obvious that you’re happy to see each other again. “Why aren’t you inside? It’s cold out here,” he would give you his jacket if only he’s wearing one right now but he’s not.

“Everyone is loud inside and I feel like I’ve had enough of the screaming and overflowing booze, you know?” You answered awkwardly. Little did you know that Haechan feels the exact same thing. “But I should probably go and not ruin the silence here too so-“

“I can’t stop thinking about you” Haechan finally blurted out. He didn’t mean to but those are the words that came out from his mouth the moment he saw you turn and was about to walk away. “I don’t even know your name but my sister thinks your cool” he added, trying to sound fun and interesting. Heck, he’s trying to make you stay.

And it's working.

“You have a sister and you told her about me?” Haechan nods with a shy smile, “Well what did you tell her?” You asked with a flirty tone.

“I told her that I’ve never seen a smile so beautiful and that I feel stupid for not asking your name” he shamelessly flirts and came closer to you, making your heart beat faster and making you really nervous.

“Take me some somewhere quiet and I’ll tell you my name” you flirted back.

And without any second thoughts, he brought you to a place where you two can laugh out loud freely, and there's no loud music to bother the moment. You introduced yourself and all he did was giggle and tell you that his little sister will be happy about this. Haechan made you laugh nonstop, telling you the happy memories he holds dear and even small parts about his life, without fooling you and making you think that he’s someone else.

Now that he gets the chance to talk to you again, he wanted to embrace you while he pours all his honesty to you and hopes that you don’t mind liking someone fucked up like him. But Haechan thought that telling you that he’s poor as a rat on your first night together is not something worth staying for, so he shrugged it off and continue asking more about you.

Until you both lost track of time and he offered to walk you home, which you think it’s sweet.

“Do you want to have some water first, before you go? It’s a long way back. M-my parents are not home so no need to be shy,” you offered with a hint of other intentions that he surely understood. And thankfully he accepted.

The moment you closed the door, he stopped you from opening the lights, his hands are on your face and your lips touched immediately. Returning the kiss without hesitation, heads turning continuously and both tongues are wanting for something more.

You motion him to the couch and push him until he falls on the cushions and let out a quiet giggle. It was a pity that you wouldn’t see his bright smile. “You okay with this?” he slips his hand inside your shirt and smoothly removed it.

“More than okay,” you said and started to undo his belt and remove his pants. Soon, you’re both wearing only your underwear while grinding on top of each other. Shy to make a move but your kisses and moans say otherwise. You’re the one who initiates it this time, unclasping your bra and making him knead and cup your boobs shamelessly.

“Do I need a condom?” he asks, removing his boxers brief, throwing it on the floor, and immediately slipped his hand inside your panties while you’re on top of him kissing him like there’s no tomorrow.

You moaned softly when his fingers made contact with your very wet slit and told him, “No. But pull out?” he nods and told you he will. And because of that assurance, you finally removed your panties and went on top of him.

“It’s hard to pull out if you’re going to be on top, maybe next time?” He says and effortlessly switched your positions, putting him on top of you. He pulls away for a second and pumped his cock in between your opened legs, came in closer to kiss you before he pushes his in.

His kisses were gentle and sweet like he’s not about you fuck you in the next few seconds. But when he finally lined his cock and slowly thrust in, both of you moaned and forgot that you were kissing for a second. Sharp gasps escaped your mouth while delicious groans escaped from his. Slowly he takes his time pushing in and out without thrusting all the way, which surely builds the momentum and it definitely made you want more of him.

“I’ll go deeper” thankfully he noticed and pushed in finally. Thrusting a little bit quicker than earlier while his fingers are busy drawing circles on your clit.

Soon, you’re both on edge. Too shy to admit it but you can’t stop clenching and unclenching around him, “Stop doing that,” he says and kissed your neck, bitting the shell of your ear to hear you giggle while he makes you moan deliciously.

He came first as expected because you can’t stop moaning behind his ears and making him feel good with your tight walls. He shoots his cum on your stomach, away from your pussy while his other hand is continuously drawing fast circles and making you cum in no time.

You shivered like crazy and tried closing your legs but Haechan got a hold of it and overstimulated you.

“Wild-brutal, that’s you” you said while you continue to shiver, curl yourself in a ball and beg him to stop.

He kisses your body, avoiding his cum but still managed to suck your nipples good as you come down from your high. When you’re finally calm, you reached for the tissue on the coffee table to wipe yourself clean but he snatched the tissue from your hand and did it himself. After that, you moved your body and make room on the small couch so he can lie beside you, using his arms as your pillow, keeping you close to his sweaty body.

“You’re the second girl I kept in my arms tonight,” he says softly. Looking into your eyes directly. You know that it's his sister and it made you smile and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Can you keep it that way then?” you said, softly like how he spoke. He nods and tightens his hug.

“To be honest I feel like I’m a slut right now because I slept with you first... on my first day of school, my first day of meeting you-“

“Sssh. You think too much. You’re not a slut. I like you, you like me. It’s a normal reaction” he kisses your lips and your cheeks one too many times to make you giggle and eventually let go of your thoughts. “I have to go back to my friends” he added.

“What- No, stay, please. My parents wouldn’t mind” you begged but he shook his head and got up from his comfort.

“I’ll find you again”

“Well give me your phone” you said, eager to make him stay. Eager to stay in his life.

“I don’t have one because I can’t afford one” Haechan was shy to tell you the truth but he didn’t want to lie to you. But of course, you understand him instead of prying. You sat up, kissed him sweetly and told him,

“It’s fine. You know where I live, so we're going to do this old school then” you giggle and make the most of the few minutes you have with him. He reached for your panties and helped you wear them together with your shirt, leaving a soft kiss on your lower abdomen.

“Is that fine? Going old school?” He asks smiling and asking for another kiss.

“More than fine, that means I get to see you always” he giggled and told you that’s right and continued wearing the rest of his clothes.

The next day, Haechan woke up with a smile on his face by just merely thinking about you and thinking of going to your house tonight and surprise you after he hangs out with Jeno at the amusement park.

As his day went on with his best friend, all he thinks about is you. Did you eat already, how was your sleep, do you think of him, and what are you doing now? These are questions that he wanted to ask you because he misses you already, but also, these are the questions that attracted the universe into putting you both in the same place.

Just a few minutes ago, Haechan is thinking about you but now you’re right in front of him... with a blindfold at The Kissing Booth and about to kiss Jeno.... Jeno of all people.

There, Haechan stood and watch you and Jeno kiss in front of the audience. Watching your friends take a video and giggle as much as they want because you have no idea who you’re kissing right now. Oh they would kill to be in your position and taste Jeno’s lips. While you... you think about the gentleman who made you laugh over and over again last night, the gentleman who’s honest about everything, and the gentleman who made you feel good on your family couch last night.

And when you removed your blindfold, you can’t help but feel disappointed. It’s not Haechan you’re kissing, he hasn’t found you again.

When Jeno came closer and attempted to kiss you again, you pushed him away in front of many people, smiled and whispered, “We had our fun already, I think that’s enough. Sorry, I was hoping you’d be someone else” and came down from the stage to join your friends.

The disappointment in Jeno’s face was evident. He felt like he violated you or something and wanted to apologize further but you didn’t give him a chance. He saw Haechan standing in the corner with a soda in his hand and joined him, “That was something. I feel like I was taken to another dimension while I was kissing her. Damn I like her already” Jeno admits, having no clue that Haechan knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Hey.... Haechan” you taped his shoulder which made him and Jeno turn around. You didn’t want to be bold and flirty with him in front of his friend so you just said hey.

Jeno was shocked to the core when you approached his friend and not him, and he was even more shocked to see you smile so sweetly at Haechan. “You know each other?” he asks you both nervously.

“Yes”

“No”

“N-no. Not really. Dude, everyone knows her. New girl in town plus she came by the store during my shift yesterday after school” Haechan explains. Completely denying that you two shared something special the other night.

Good thing Jeno believed and accepted Haechan’s explanation, so this time he didn’t waste any more time and shoot his shot. “I want to apologize to you. Can we go for a walk? Alone together-“

“Good idea man. I think I should go. I have a shift at the store, s-see you at school. B-both of you,” he says and awkwardly walks out and left you with Jeno.

You wanted to follow him, you would rather want to watch him work at the store than be with Jeno and waste your time strolling around the park, you’ve been wanting to be with him ever since you opened your eyes this morning and now you can’t believe that he denied you in front of his friend.

The whole time he was walking in circles around his neighborhood, Haechan can’t stop thinking about you and Jeno. Even hating the universe more for making him and Jeno like the same girl. Fuck, he murmured frustratingly until he came to a thought that maybe life brought you to Haechan’s life so he could finally give something back to his best friend.

Maybe he’s doing the right thing by letting you and Jeno get to know each other.

“You’re a fool,” his sister teases him while he watches her brush her teeth. Haechan just snorted and let out a small laugh knowing that his little sister is smart and that she’s growing up wise.

“But when you grow old you can’t just commit to something or someone if you know to yourself that you can’t. Be honest,” he kisses her sister good night and tucked her to bed. Wishing for her sister to grow up strong and smart, and not like him.

///

After a few weeks of seeing Jeno and going out on dates with him, you force yourself to think that what happened between you and Haechan is just a one time thing. That you were just horny teenagers that night who both had a bad day that’s why you thought it was something special.

It’s not that you’re using Jeno to forget Haechan, but Jeno is the one making his moves and trying so hard to impress you. He’s almost as nice as Haechan you thought. Maybe that’s why they’re best friends, and maybe that’s why now you look forward to seeing Jeno every day because you see Haechan in him.

Until one night, you and Jeno had a rather hot night that leads you two to his bed. Sex with Jeno is rough and fast and to be honest you forgot how many condoms he used because the sex was that good. And in that very moment, you realized that the only difference between Jeno and Haechan is the way they fuck. Jeno made you forget Haechan whenever you two are in bed and that made you want Jeno to fuck you more each day.

But Jeno is a natural sweetheart, a lover boy who shows you that he is a great man and a good person. “I know we fuck too much and it's obvious that something is bothering you” he says, hugging you closely while you’re on top of him after a very good car sex. “You can tell me, you know?” he added but you just shook your head no. “Okay okay, I understand. I love you. Whatever you’re going through or whatever that’s bothering you, continue to lean on me. Use me if you must,”

And right then and there, you decided to return the love Jeno is giving you.

It was not easy but it was worth it. Jeno loved you so much, more than you could ever imagine. You spend your senior year together, made memories each day, have good sex after school or during weekends, be the life of the party together, and meet each other’s family.

“Are you happy with me?” he whispers behind your ear while he hugs you from behind.

“What kind of question is that?” you said, turning around to meet his eyes and rake his hair away from his face. Not giving a fuck about the people watching you two flirt in the middle of a crowded place with drunk teenagers.

“Just a question. My way of checking if I’m still a good boyfriend” he admitted shyly. You rolled your eyes and came closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips which soon became heated and his hands roamed freely around your body.

“Mhmm. I'm happy, I love you” you whisper and you mean it.

“I love you too” he smiles and continues the kiss.

And while you two are in your own private world minding your business, Haechan watches from afar with a beer in his hand. Jealous, but not mad. Happy, but for you and his best friend. You deserve each other, he thought.

So as you and Jeno make your relationship strong and pour all your love on each other, Haechan became even more hardworking, focused more on his studies, and looking for more jobs to save more money. It was his way of forgetting you.

During a party that Jeno threw in his house, everything was intensely wild and everyone got drunk during the party, except Haechan because he was late due to his shift from one of his part-time job.

He saw you laughing with your friends near the poolside. You look beautiful tonight, as always. And at the same time, you look drunk already and all he wanted to do is take care of you but that’s not his job.

“Great that you’re here man, ugh. I’m so drunk” Jeno whines, almost about to throw but he’s still in control. “Here. Promised her dad I’d bring her home, but obviously, I can’t now. I can’t drive while I’m like this, knowing that she’s in the car with me. Too risky. Please dude, thank you”

And just like that, the responsibility and the power to take care of you is passed unto him.

“Baby, Haechan will bring you home- I can’t drive” Jeno admitted to you. Giving you his jacket before he walks you towards his car.

“W-what? Let me stay then, I’ll take care of you. Then you can drive me home when you’re sober” you said but your boyfriend said no and told you you’re as drunk as him. So you didn’t have a choice but to go inside the car with Haechan. He watched you two kiss goodbye and say your I love yous with each other before he drives away and takes you home.

The drive was silent. You didn’t dare to open your mouth and ask how he’s been, he didn’t dare to open his mouth and tell you that you’re beautiful. And it stayed like this until he reaches your house and parked in front of it.

“Do you remember the night that you walked me home?” you started, and you think it’s the alcohol that's talking. Haechan just nods and lets out a heavy sigh. “I wish it never happened. I wish I didn’t flirt back then and went back inside that bar instead of asking you to take me somewhere quiet” you admitted, feeling your heart break but you can finally breathe better now that you told him what you really feel. But deep inside you didn’t mean it. You’re just saying that because you’re still mad at him for denying you.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and reached for you, shamelessly hugging you, and placed a sweet kiss on your temple. You feel his tears and that made you hug him back. Staining his shirt with your tears that you kept for months.

“I’m sorry. I can’t give you what Jeno can give you. My life is a mess, I’m a trash and you deserve someone better. Someone who can take care of you, I can’t” he hugged you a little bit tighter to let you know that he’s sincere. And after a few minutes of silence, he explained his part to you and you listened attentively not because he owes you an explanation but because you miss his voice.

“When I was new here, bullies just won't stop teasing me, then Jeno became my friend and suddenly they all stopped. Jeno didn’t mind if I’m poor, he just wanted a brother and found it in me. That’s why whenever I’m in need he’s always to the rescue, my books, my mother’s job, this Rolex watch that I only use whenever I need it at work. I remember he gave this to me because he didn’t want to give me cash because he was afraid that will make me feel small. So instead he gave me this watch and expected me to pawn it. But I can’t because it’s like a token of our friendship”

“I get it. Bro code” you said calmly and watch him nod. “But who are you to tell me who to love. My heart still belongs to you when Jeno was courting me, I think about you when he kisses me-“

“Do you still feel the same way?” he blurted out, looking at your lips and thinking of kissing it one last time before you have your closure. But he won't.

“I love Jeno but you still have this great effect on me, you still have my heart” you admitted.

“I’m sure you understand me now. Why I don’t want to hurt my friend” you nod because you do understand him, you don’t want to hurt your boyfriend either, “He’s an angel” Haechan added.

When Haechan left and drove away, you feel like he took your heart away with him. Like that one specific night you had sex with him and you didn’t want him to go. You know what you said. You don’t want to hurt Jeno and you do love him, but what can you do? Your heart still belongs to Haechan.

After that understanding with Haechan, you suddenly became cold towards Jeno and all you could think about is Haechan. Obviously, Jeno can see right through you. He knows you, whenever something troubles you, you will keep it to yourself and you won’t tell it to him. So he made a way to cheer you up, but it ended up annoying you.

He invited you to his house to have a sleepover and movie night with him. The thing is, Jeno knew you love having sex with him so the moment you two are alone in his room with all the lights off and only his big flat-screen TV is on, he tried putting you in the mood and became way too touchy.

“Stop” you whine as Jeno starts kissing your neck while his hands roam free around your body. It feels good you can’t lie, but you’re not in the mood so you pushed him a little too hard which made him even more frustrated.

“What did I do wrong? I wish you could open up to me more, Y/n” he gets up from his bed and gave you space. “You’ve been like that for days and days already, I don’t know if I did something wrong. Baby, just tell me. I’ll fix it,”

And there it is. Your very reason why you loved him “Why do you have to be so nice?” you murmur and sat beside him. You knew that this isn’t the right time to tell him about Haechan, but he asked what's bothering you so you’re going to tell him the truth and do the right thing. Bravely, you told him every inch of your feelings, the truth about you and Haechan, and hopes that he will not get mad at you or his friend.

He listened. While Holding your hand. Close to tears but he won’t cry in front of you. Not yet. But now that he knows the truth about you and his best friend, he felt like he stole you from him.

“Don’t be mad at him, he just feels obligated to give back to all the kindness you have done to him and his family” you wait for his reaction. You expect him to get mad or throw a fit but all he did was kiss your knuckles, hold them tightly, and kept you close while he can.

“So what now? Do you need time? Space even? It hurts like hell, I must admit but I can’t force you to stay” he says, with tears in his eyes and trying so hard to look strong.

“I need space from the both of you, choosing is not easy. I don’t want to hurt you in the future Jeno” you said.

“I can’t force you to stay, but I can beg right? I love you-“ He cups your face and leaves too many kisses on your lips, saying he loves you over and over again, begging you to please choose him.

“I’m sorry Jeno, please don’t beg. You don’t deserve this,” you made him stop begging and pull him into a tight hug. Inviting him to come to bed with you and savor this night together while you can because, on the next day, you will leave him.  

///

When you broke up with Jeno and focused all your energy on school, you walk almost every day from school to your house just so you can sort out your thoughts.

Jeno stopped begging you to come back after a few months and got himself a new girlfriend while Haechan… well, he’s doing his best with avoiding you. Still, breaking up with Jeno is a wise decision because now it’s clear that you don’t love him like how you love and long for Haechan.

“Fuck” you curse at the rain for pouring out of nowhere and you have no choice but to enter the store that Haechan is looking after. Just like the rain, you came out of nowhere and shock him. But shocking him and ruining his peace was not your intention, you’re just waiting for the rain to stop so you can go and walk again.

Shivering because of the store’s air conditioning, you hug yourself to keep yourself warm in every way you can but it’s not enough. You tried going out again but the rain kept pouring and it started to rain hard again when you tried and open the door. But then you heard the sound of the air conditioning being turned off, and Haechan is behind you holding the remote and some extra clothes.

“You’ll get sick if you stay wet. Here-“ he awkwardly hands you an extra shirt and his hoodie, “You can change back there. There’s no one else in this store except me,” he says and points at the door for the staff room. Of course you accepted his offer and you’re happy that he still cares.

When you got back, you saw him preparing you a hot drink and made you sit on one of the vacant chairs. “How are you?” he asks, stirring the drink and puts it in front of you carefully.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. How about you? How's your sister?”

“I’m doing good too. And my sister is fine”

And after that, an awkward silence made you both giggle and feel shy about being alone in this cold store. But not for long. Haechan initiated the conversation and made small talk with you. If he’s being honest right now, he doesn’t want you to shut up. He wanted you to talk and talk freely without being shy… like that first night you spend together.

When the rain stopped, he walked you home again and you both enjoyed the cool breeze and wet street. Admiring the calmness that the rain brought. “Why did you avoid me? After me and Jeno broke up?” you asked calmly.

“I know we learned the hard way and we’ve been through some stuff” he came closer and put strands of your hair behind your ear, “I’ve been helping myself to be better for you so this time I won’t fuck us up, and I wasn’t avoiding you. I’m giving you time to heal” he smiles and looked into your eyes deeply.

“Can we start again?” he finally blurted out. “This is my final attempt on keeping you, and… I just want to fight for you this time”

The rain was a blessing after all. You don’t know if the rain was a sign of starting over again but you’re glad that you decided to walk today and got soaked in the rain and did not have a choice but to enter that convenience store. But you’re happy that the rain brought you back together, so you hugged him tightly as your answer and warned him with all your might.

“If I wake up tomorrow and you deny me again, I swear Lee Haechan-“

And just like that, he cuts you off with a kiss, an act of promise so you won’t need to worry for the next day. “My sister will kill me if I let go of you again” he giggles and continue kissing you.

Who would have thought that you need only the rain for you and Haechan to get back together? Because after that night, he kept his promise to you. He never left your side and you never left his. Life wasn’t easy for him still, but you made sure you stayed with him through thick and thin.

Even though Haechan can’t bring you to expensive dates or movie dates, being with him while he’s working at the convenience store is more than enough for you. “I love my job. I can earn money while having a study date with you in this cold store” he says, kissing your temple while you’re busy reading and studying beside him.

Your remaining high school days were full of him and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

After graduation, you and Haechan planned on living together even though you’re both going to different schools, thankfully your schools aren’t that far from each other. Living together is not easy, your parents warned you. But Haechan made it easy for you because he loves you so much. Nonetheless, you would still choose a hard life with and just so you could be together the moment you open your eyes in the morning until you close them to end your day at night.

“It's you and me from now on, Y/n” he whispers beside your ear, hugging you from behind so tightly like you’re going somewhere and finally kiss you good night.

MAIN MASTERLIST FAQ / WIPS / CALENDAR ABOUT B

To this blog’s audience, please do not steal my works save yourself from the shame. Do not translate my works, they’re not worthy. Also if you see someone who stole my work, kindly reach out to me.

[babbushka]

hey mrs z! for sinday, could I possibly request a lil something something about kylo having a praise kink?

1.4k, NSFW, (subby Supreme Leader Kylo, PIV, praise kink); mild angst (kylo just has a lot of feelings)

It isn't easy, being the Supreme Leader. If he thinks about it for longer than two seconds, it really isn't easy being Kylo in general. He's the commander of the galaxy, he's the leader of millions -- billions -- and that comes with a heavy price. The long hours, the late nights, the war, bloodshed, murder. He's used to those, however exhausting they can become, he's been trained through those fires. But it's the tactical negotiations and treaties and diplomacy that Kylo's not so keen on. He's lived his life killing to get his way, and now, that isn't so simple.

There's always been someone there to help him along the way. For a moment it was his parents before they abandoned him. Then it was Snoke, before he betrayed him. And then for a long time he was alone, ruling the galaxy pitifully, painfully alone. No one to guide him through his decisions, no one to let him know if he was doing well.

Kylo had always had a desire to please. He struggled with it, struggled with the failure that was disappointment. Everyone demanded so much from him all the time, his family, his mentors, the galaxy. He worked so hard to meet expectations, doing everything he could, and it always seemed to fall short.

Until there's you, and everything changes.

Praise flows freely from your tongue, for the first time in Kylo's life. For the first time, he doesn't have to beat himself raw for validation and gratification of his actions. You just...give it to him, for everything, and it flips a switch in Kylo's brain in a way he's never felt before.

He's never gotten the words before, at best it was only a nod of approval. So when the words do come, he finds they hit him deeply, make him melt straight through the floor. You give them to him in bed, when he's pleasuring you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue his lips his cock oh how you gasp for him on his cock! He chases the feeling of your happiness as it surges through the Force, praise in its own kind when you cry out his name and come so hard that he can feel it in his own body.

You’re crying out for him now, beneath him in the plush bed of your shared quarters. He’s married you, fallen so deep into his love for you that he’s sure this is where he’s meant to be. You give him more power than the Dark Side ever could, simply by carding your fingers through his hair and gasping moans and shouts of pleasure that he gives you.

“More Kylo, please, please your cock is so big, it feels so good -- give me more!” You’re clinging to him, clutching at him, your hands digging deep dark bruises into his body that Kylo will put on display, he’ll wear them proudly, because you put them there, a gift.

The feedback loop from your bond has the hair on Kylo’s arms standing up, on the back of his neck, he’s electric from the way your pussy clenches and spasms around him, the way your hands clutch at the muscled flesh of his back as his hips thrust and thrust and thrust into you. His eyes are wide open, staring at your face, drinking in the way you whine and moan and cry and gasp for him, a litany of pleas, of praise falling from your mouth.

“Stars! Kylo, darling, I’m going to come, make me come please!” Your chest is heaving and your toes are curling as your body writhes beneath him, breath catching in your throat as he bites at the corner of your mouth, “Fuck! Oh it’s so good.”

Kylo drinks it up, he thinks he’s drunk as he loses himself in the warm tight embrace of your cunt. He’s drooling, he’s sweating, droplets of both falling onto your chest as your tits bounce underneath him, the harsh slap of his skin on yours filling the air, masking the sounds of his pants.

He could cry he’s so overwhelmed, so in love, desperate to come inside you for the fifth time today, desperate to fill you up and have him tell you how happy you are that he did it. Every day he thanks the stars that they brought him to you, he will prove his worth for you as long as you will let him, and you’re letting him now.

“Almost there almost there almost there -- yes!” Your body snaps up in a tense moment, before going completely limp, limbs twitching and shaking and the Force is singing and Kylo’s mind is reeling as he fucks you through your orgasm, unable to take his eyes off of you for a moment, unable to look away for an instant.

You’re so loud, he’s certain half the ship can hear you, and that’s another kind of praise too, isn’t it? You screaming his name as your pussy throbs on his achingly hard cock, come gushing between your legs and slicking him up as he grinds himself deep against your gspot, fingers rubbing fast fast fast on your clit to milk your pleasure for as long as he can.

He can’t hold back any longer, not with you so pliant and warm and wet under him, and he comes with a shout so loud, a burst of energy so strong that it sets off alarms down in the sector below your quarters, and delirious from your own orgasm, you’re chuckling. Kylo’s arms give out from underneath him, he’s been fucking you for close to two hours now, and he lands with a sweaty thud against your breast. Immediately, your weak hands find themselves through his hair, and he shuts his eyes against the wave of emotion that simmers in his chest, the intimacy that warms him through your bond.

“Thank you darling.” You say softly, panting shallowly as you gulp down air enough to give him this that he so desires, “You really did a number on me, didn’t you sweet boy?”

“I love you.” He’s too tired to really say much else. He had just landed from a mission earlier that morning, one that kept him away from you for ten entire days. Ten days of torturous distance that he endured, all with the knowledge that soon he’d be back to you -- and now he is.

“I love you too handsome.” You smile at him, tired in your own right. You’re covered in marks and sweat and come and spit, your hair is a mess and you’ve never looked more beautiful to Kylo, but he can’t really think of any of that, because all he can think of right now is the way your praise makes his cock twitch and leak more come inside you when you continue, “That’s what you are, so strong and handsome. Look how well you did for me, look how long you lasted. I’m proud of you, did you like it too?”

“I loved it, I love you.” His mind is a pleasant buzz, he feels safe, always feels safe when he’s with you. He pushes his hips deeper against yours, a steady stream of come filling you up so much that he knows it’ll overflow when -- if -- he pulls out.

“We’re staying here tonight, just you and me. I’ll call to send dinner up for us, I just want to be close to you.” You say, and sometimes Kylo wonders if you’re a mind reader too.

“Good.” He rolls you over so that you’re resting atop his body, his arms caging you in, holding you tight. Kylo doesn’t think he’s letting you go anywhere for a long fucking time, not with the way you make him feel.

And maybe you are a mindreader, because you smile at him then, reaching up to place the softest, gentlest kiss to his plush lips, before snuggling against his body. With the Force, Kylo pulls the blankets over you so that you don’t get cold, and clings to you, grateful that no matter what, he’s got you here beside him, forever.

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Tagging some Kylo lovin' friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @lovinghufflepuffgirl @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea

[newtonsheffield]

Hiii i absolutely loved the epilogue, sooo cute and funny and the ending 🥺 but now i have this teeny tiny question if you don't mind how do you imagine the night of the Formal if Katie had actually gone with someone else? like I just know jealous baby Anthony will be so funny, sorry i know that would be like an au of an au of an au (lol) but i just loooove fics with dances because i don't get any of those where i am from

I'm so glad you enjoyed the epilogue of A Letter That You Never Read! I really had no idea when I posted that story that people would like it quite so much but... I guess you guys did?

Anyway I would be more than happy to share with you a tiny taste of Jealous teenage Anthony, quietly brooding away in the corner. @missfairygodmother was also interested in seeing Baby Anthony get a little green eyed over Kate

In this AU of an AU of an AU

Anthony had been nervous all afternoon, well, for weeks, months actually, as he'd tried to pluck up the courage to ask Katie Sheffield if she would go to the formal with him. But every time he'd been around her, he just couldn't choke out the words. She always seemed so far above them all, distancing herself from the mundanity of teenage life, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria quietly reading a book while idiots hit each other with the dinner trays around her, her eyes rolling slightly as she walked past them. So he hadn't done it.

But he'd found himself considering what she would like, when he picked out his suit. Her backpack was green, was that her favourite colour? Would she like it if he wore a tie that colour? What flowers would she like to see on his buttonhole? Roses? or tulips or peonies or something else completely?

"Why don't you ask Katie to go with you?" His mother had said gently as they'd stood in the store and the woman taking his measurements had asked what his partner was wearing. "She doesn't want to go with me, Mum." He'd mumbled, more than a little embarrassed, deeply regretting the incidents that had caused her to become aware of his futile crush. "Did you ask her?" He shook his head "She barely says anything to me, Mum. She doesn't like me back." And his cheeks had burned with shame His mother had sighed, "I don't suppose it's occurred to you that she might also be too nervous to say anything?" And while Anthony had scoffed, he'd desperately hoped that she was right, even though he knew the very last word that would ever be used to describe Katie Sheffield was nervous.

Be'd told himself, as he got ready, that when he got there, and he saw her, he'd ask her to dance. He would, he would find the courage somehow. And he would tell her that his heart wanted to beat out of his chest whenever he saw her, that he thought she was beautiful and smart, and funny and he wanted to know her. He'd arrived and loitered nervously in the corner of the school gymnasium and then he saw her, and his heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest.

Kate had walked in, heartbreakingly beautiful, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, just like always, her glasses abandoned for the night, which made Anthony frown a little, but that wasn't why his heart broke. No, she was arm in arm with someone else. She paused at the doorway, listening to something her annoyingly handsome and square jawed partner said, her face breaking into a wide smile as he finished. Anthony felt something white hot rip through his chest seething at the back of the other boy's head as they walked further into the room.

Whoever he was, Anthony had never seen him before, but he looked older, a little more mature, and Anthony hated him. Petulantly despised him, almost as much as he despised himself for not asking her. She already has a boyfriend you idiot, of course she does, because you're a fuckwit and she's incredible.

He stood stock still in the corner jealousy tearing through him for god knows how long, wincing as he saw her boyfriend smile down at her, his fingers lightly brushing the flowers at her wrist. Roses Anthony noted, despising the pink tulips currently on his buttonhole. "You could have just asked her yourself you know. She's here with him because he actually asked her." Simon's voice said gently, as he followed Anthony's line of vision as Katie's boyfriend laughed. "Fuck Off Si." Anthony spat out, hating the truth of it, unable to stand in the room another minute he swept outside ignoring her completely as he past, leaning against the side of the building his chest aching.

"Anthony? Are you okay?" Of course she was here. Standing just a few feet away from him, the green of her dress shining in the soft lighting, an Amy Shark song, Adore playing in the background he realised a little belatedly because of course it was. "Yeah, fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He said, ignoring the lump in his throat. "Are you having a good time? Your boyfriend seems nice." Her brow furrowed just a little, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "You just looked kind of upset." Her voice was so soft, her eyes so concerned that right here, in this moment, it was so easy for him to pretend that she felt the same way he did. But she didn't. "Freddie's nice, we always have a good time together." Katie and Freddie. They even had matching names, his stomach churned while his chest burned with jealousy, and he instantly felt sick because he was making this so much about himself, when he should have been glad to see her happy.

Anthony nodded. "You look really nice tonight, Katie." He couldn't help himself. Her eyes widened for a second before she smiled. "Thanks, it's amazing what happens when a girl takes off her glasses right?" "It doesn't have anything to do with that." Anthony said sharply, his eyes catching hers. Surely she knew how beautiful she was. Silence echoed between them for several moments before "Katie?" A male voice called out softly, Freddie appearing seconds later. Katie smiled at him when he arrived, and Anthony's stomach churned again. He wondered for one wild moment, what it would have been like if she never came, if he never came, then he could have gone on pretending he had a chance forever.

"Sorry, Mate, I don't think we've been introduced, Freddie." He said turning towards Anthony, his hand outstretched. Anthony stared down at it for a second and then gritted his teeth. "Freddie this is Anthony." Katie said lightly and Freddie did the oddest thing, his eyes widened, a smirk on his face as he looked between them. "Anthony, I'm so glad to meet you!" He said, suddenly overflowing with happiness. Anthony felt his brow furrow as Katie ducked her head embarrassed. "Mate, I wonder if you could do me a favour, I hurt my leg at Rugby this week." Of course he's a rugby player, Anthony thought savagely. "And I think someone ought to dance with Katie." Anthony's heart stopped. Katie looked nothing short of aghast. "Freddie!" She hissed angrily, nudging him "Anthony, you don't have to,- I'm not- Freddie I'm telling my Mum on you!" Anthony's brow furrowed again, he was missing something here, something he couldn't quite place but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity. He cut across Freddie's "Please, Auntie's not going to do-" "I want to dance with you!" Katie's head nearly shot off her shoulders as it swivelled towards him. Anthony felt his hand ruffle his hair nervously, cursing himself. "If you want to... dance with me that is." He couldn't breathe as her eyes flicked over his face, more than a little guarded until she said.

"Okay. I'd like that." Anthony felt his face break into a bright smile, his heart pounding in his chest as he tugged her back though the doors, leading her to the dance floor, his heart pounding as she wrapped her arms a little awkwardly around him, standing so lose he could count the tiny line of freckles on her nose. Content silence between them as the music swelled in the background. And then everything came slipping from his chest. She was so close he just couldn't help it.

"I really wanted to ask you to come tonight. And I'm sorry, I know it's not fair because you're with Freddie, but I've liked you for a really long time and I can't let you go away to University thinking don't care about you." He was breathing a little heavily by the end of his speech, the warring emotions that had been playing on him all night finally getting the better of him as Katie stared at him, dumbstruck. Anthony let his hands drop. "And now i've made you uncomfortable, I'm really sorry. Sorry." God he had to get out of here, tears were pushing at the back of his throat, clouding his vision, and then her hand caught his. "Freddie is my cousin!" She said, all in a rush, "Well, my step mum's second cousin's son. But I had to bring him because I didn't have anyone else and I was too nervous to come by myself but I really wanted to see you one last time and-" Anthony couldn't help himself, his heart was beating out of his chest as he leaned towards her, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say with his lips on hers.

Her lips were soft against his, unmoving for a moment, before her hands tugged him more tightly against her, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. There was a small smilie on her lips when Anthony pulled back, a broad grin on his own. " I've wanted to do that for a really long time." "Was it worth the wait do you think?" "Abso-fucking-lutely." Their lips met again with a small giggle, and even though Anthony had just said the most embarrassing thing he possibly could have said after kissing a girl, he really couldn't bring himself to care.

[ktheist]

you can sit with us. | m

pairings. taehyung x reader x jungkook

genre. slice of life

words. 5.7k

warnings. explicit content, semi-public sex, threesome (obviously), everyone’s a switch at this point, but top!jungkook, big dick!tae, big dick!jungkook, discussions of sexuality

synopsis. the person frowns, confusion clearly painted on his face, “how can you be dating two people at once and those two people date each other while dating you?”

“it’s cause we’re a thruple - like a couple but with three people.”

x

the first time you met jeon jungkook and kim taehyung was at a bar downtown. you’d bumped into the tall, dark haired man at the bar who was in the middle of turning around after what seemed to be a reminder for the bartender to serve him and his companion at “table 6.”

“oh sorry,” you find yourself saying to a broad chest before letting your eyes travel up past the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple and finally his beautiful, mesmerizing eyes but it was the sweet, tender smile that gets you clenching your hands together in hopes to stop them from coming up to fan yourself, “oh there you are! wow, you’re tall!”

the sound of his chuckle was music to your ears, “i get that a lot - have a good one,” with a good natured nod and a parting farewell, he disappeared into the crowd.

you knocked on the counter, fixing the bartender a smile, “hi,” your half buzzed smile dragged out the word into something that might or might be interpreted the wrong way, especially considering where you were but when she smirked at you, you knew this one was going to be on the house, “oh, your teeth are so pretty!”

“thanks, baby, what can i get you?” as self-assured as she was, she still steered the conversation back to the reason you’re there, butt half sitting on the stool and arms propped over the counter, leaning a little too close than one should.

“oh!” you gasped as though you’d just remembered something, “can i have a bloody mary, please?”

“sure thing, sweets,” she winked and you giggled.

the whole time she was preparing your order, she’d kept her eyes on you and you were a giggling mess, eyes of stars staring at the way her nimble hands did their work up till the moment she slid it over to you with a, “it’s on the house.”

“oh my god, thank you!” a pause in the moment and a linger of gaze later, you were pushing the piece of paper with a sequence of numbers into your bra.

there was skip to your step as you made your way over to what was supposed to be a booth that you booked with your friends - who, in the short span of time managed to get their of companions for the night and consequently left no space for you to even sit.

so you stood there, not knowing how much time passed, with your jaws on the ground and the bloody mary held midair. completely frozen in place.

that was, until the handsome stranger beckoned you over from two seats away. he only had one other person with him. if his hair was dark, his companion’s was jet black, “hey, you can sit with us.”

with a dry sniffle, you’d marched way over. a stomp in your steps and a huff as you plopped down across from him and his companion. he’d introduced himself as taehyung and his companion, jungkook. and you had, forgetting everything about your untasteful encounter, brightly announced your name, “thanks so much for letting me sit with you guys,” you gushed, “me and my girlfriends made a promise that we’d never let any man or woman get in our way of girl’s night,” with an face full of dissatisfaction and an exhalation, you continued, “but guess that plan went out of the window.”

“is this your first time? don’t think we’ve seen you before,” jungkook’s voice, if there existed a word to sum up how to describe it, it would be melodic. a hymn of the heavens in the body of a man - a very beautiful man at that.

“no but this is my second time,” and halfway-drunk you had no filter or any sense of shutting the fuck up before you shared too much to strangers, you went on about how “a girl i was sorta a thing with brought me here,” you and her clearly didn’t work out because, otherwise why would you be here with, “so my girlfriends wanted to go to a gay bar and thought why not bring them here, right?” you scoffed, remembering the sisterhood promise made just a few hours ago, “wrong - they ditched me as soon as they saw the only few straight men here.”

that seemed to bring a rise of chuckle from taehyung and a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff from jungkook. for the rest of the night, you drank and did shots and danced on the floor - the two of them seemed a tad bit protective over you, especially when a man got too close. they weren’t looking for any because, “so how long have you guys been dating?”

“we’ve known each other for seven years and we’ve been dating for-” jungkook began before taehyung chirped in, “two years.”

“oh my god, you guys finish each other’s sentences,” you cooed, vision blurred but still somewhat able to process the information that went through your ears “goals.”

so they had no reason to let anyone else come into your little circle of three on top of the very obvious fact that you were too far gone to even consent to even a dance with any man or woman.

you remembered your friends, some time into the night, finding you and thanking the two men for looking out for you before they dragged you out with them. neither of them actually went home with anyone but it still didn’t stop you from holding a vendetta against them because, “girls, we made a sacred promise and you broke it!”

they’d bribed you with ice cream and sushi and you were a puddle of delighted jelly by the time you all walked out of the sushi place.

it was a month later that you’d returned to the bar, decked in your best curve-hugging skin-tight dress. this time, you were alone.

the plan to earn brownie points from the bartender fell through when you found out that she was quit a few days ago and the employer refused to give you any details about her - even her number to you because you’d regrettably got it wet beyond repair after dumping the clothes you’d worn that night into the washer before going to bed and setting the laundry to wash the next morning, forgetting the treasure that you’d gained the night before.

with shoulders sagged and a mournful pout, you’d walked over to one of those two-people tables, hoping to get a beer in a leave. but then they were there, sitting at the same table, beckoning you over like the good overnight friends that they were.

“what’s with the long face, sweetie?” taehyung pouted, eyebrows knitting together as he shot you the prettiest puppy eye to which made you giggle in response.

so you’d told them about how you’d fucked up with one of the cutest girl you’d seen in ages. “ugh, i hate when that happens,” jungkook made an over exaggerated eyeroll, probably to cheer you up which partially worked.

until you three decided to dance again with taehyung holding your hand up as you twirled around like a princess in red. when it’s jungkook’s turn to twirl, he had to bend his knees and gradually make a full circle in an awkward way but still ended with a hair flip.

and so it went, a friendship of mutuality and overflowing gayness. you’d become eating buddies who travelled all over seoul for the best foodplace that’s ever been reviewed. had stay overs when you’d driven out of town and back to their place. went to the bar every so often which they’d taken up the task of being your wingmen.

they succeeded in their jobs a few times. but the girls you’d slept with never stayed and you never thought of proceeding to reach out beyond a one nightstand. because you were young and they were sweet but you didn’t think a relationship of trust and confidence could ever spawn from meetings at bars and spurred into a hot, passionate romance that simmered into ashes the next day.

“i don’t know you guys,” you sigh, “i think i’m done with girls.”

“oh no,” taehyung looks genuinely mortified while jungkook shakes his head “a loss for the gays and girls” and you giggle-  never a dull moment with these two.

“i’m not saying i’m done done but it’s been awhile since i’ve sucked a dick, you know?” and with friendship came honesty and the comfortableness of saying things for what it is without being judged for it.

“oh don’t we know,” jungkook snickers, while taehyung shoots him a look - he’d always been the shy one between the two. the younger man goes in for a kiss, to which the elder accepts, meeting him halfway.

and all of it only makes you a tad bit lonely as you scan the crowd. some gorgeous beings catches your eye and you’d like to think you caught theirs too but instead of the gentle and loving affection you’d seen between the two men, their eyes were sparked with lust and passion. like nymphs of the night who’d leave you high and dry once they got what they wanted.

so you left to get a drink at the bar, ordering a shot of jeager in hopes of drinking away the creeping hollowness that begins to fill the lonely parts of your heart. several shots in and you’re tumbling over to your two friends who seem to be have taken things up several notches after your leave. with taehyung on top of jungkook and the first not so shy anymore to let out unrestrained moans as his younger other half laps on his neck.

you’re halfway drowned into your own little world and probably will be going home with them and crashing in that spare bedroom you’ve started calling your part time bedroom.

until you lock eyes with jungkook. his lower face buried in taehyung’s shoulder while the latter pauses, glancing over to you as though just remembering that you were there. still having the sense to lift an inquisitive eyebrow, you do so with a, “oh don’t mind me, i’m just happy that you guys are getting some tonight.”

“you know,” jungkook pauses, letting the seconds trickle on like the droplets of on the wall of the glass before it hits the surface of the table, “you wanted to suck a dick, right? welll we’ve got dicks.”

it takes you a long winded, painful moment to digest his words. another to let out a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff as if to say, “you’re kidding...” but the “...right?” comes a second too late. a second too hopeful.

and that’s how you end up in the washroom - you’re not quite sure if it’s the men or women’s but you’re surprised that it could fit three adults in one tiny cubicle. but the matter of how to suck whose dick was an entirely different problem.

“shit ___, your elbow’s in my stomach,” jungkook hisses in a muted whisper, his hand on your hip, no doubt the culprit of your ridden up dress until your cotton panties are out in the open.

“fuck, jungkook, move over, i can’t reach tae’s dick,” you grumble out, the aforementioned man’s hardened dick in your hand but the space not allowing you to even crouch in front of him as he sat on the toilet whilst jungkook stood behind you.

“will someone just suck my dick?” the latter sighs just as he throbs in your hand.

“wait,” jungkook says, earning a dissatisfied groan from you and his boyfriend but before either of you can say anything, he’s turning you around, hands guiding your hips, “tae, push her panties down.”

almost as though controlled by an invisible force, the man’s hands are quick to get those baby pink panties down until they’re hanging around your ankles.

“hey wait wait wait!” you repeat like a mantra as you feel jungkook’s hands guiding you down onto taehyung’s lap which, if you remember correctly, was sporting a protruding hardness in between.

“oh fuck,” yes, you’d just confirmed that an extremely erected and extravagantly lively dick is excitingly welcoming you with the way it’s jolting against your lower lips.

“oh my god,” taehyung moans, hands on the curve of your hips as he gently lowers you onto him until he’s fully inside you.

“that’s nice that you two are enjoying yourselves but - remember i’m the one that made this work,” a voice says before a hand wraps around your wrist, guiding it to a similarly throbbing hardness but of a lesser length than taehyung’s to which you soon realize that he makes it up with his girth.

“someone’s jealous,” the person behind you snickers - you have half a mind to join in on the teasing if it isn’t for your hips and knees focusing on keeping up your weight whilst you hand strokes the length in front of you, mouth lapping on his tip.

“shut up and kiss me, pretty boy,” you can almost hear the eye roll from jungkook’s voice as the tip of your nose hits his pelvic, mouth stretching wider as his leans over you, possibly to lock lips with the man he vindictive but lovingly complimented.

and so it goes, your first dick - two actually - after a long while. needless to say, you come out flushed and walking silly but both men had their hands around the opposite hip from the side they’re standing beside. it helps you hold yourself up at least until you’re in their car, switching from sticking your tongue in taehyung’s throat to jungkook’s when he stops at a red light. body stretching over the leg space between the passenger seat and the back of the driver’s seat, his neck probably hurting from having to crane around until he reaches your lips whilst taehyung’s keeps himself busy with a hand under your panties. teasing, rubbing your pleasure nub just above your lips until you’re soaking by the time the car rolled to a stop in their parking lot.

“scoot over,” jungkook instructs, unbuckling his seatbelt, “we really need to normalize waiting for the third person to finish doing whatever they were doing before deciding to fuck in the back seat of the car while they’re driving.”

“can i have your mouth, sweetie?” taehyung announces, sending waves of excitement down your core as you feel yourself clench in anticipation.

there’s just something about how they manhandle you - your hips particularly as taehyung lifts you up and slides away to the right of the car and setting you down like a little doll, hand pushing down his pants and letting his erection shoot up like a roly poly.

“great cause i want her pussy,” jungkook’s displeased tone is replaced by a breathy agreement.

and just like his other half, he’s making you stand on your knees, body bent over taehyung until his dick is in your face, oozing with precum.

“tae baby, at this point, you don’t even have to ask,” you fix him a smirk, savoring the way his eyes darken with a sort of godless desire as you lap at his tip like you would a lollipop.

the second time around, you’re much better at focusing on what’s in front of you despite the other length filling you up balls deep.

you’re not sure when you’d stopped or what time you fell asleep. but all you knew, you were sore and full by the time you were drifting between the waking world and the dream world.

the morning when you woke up, it’s been because of the way the bed shook like an earthquake was wrecking up the room. an earthquake that moaned, “deeper, jungkook, oh fuck.”

the sight before you has you clenching your thighs together but at the same time, the giggle that left your lips is what causes heads to turn and eyes to focus on you.

“did we wake you up, sweetie? i’m so sorry,” taehyung is the first to worry, “oh yes-” but that worry subsides when jungkook starts moving again, skin slapping skin.

but the elder isn’t quite ready to give up just yet, “we wanted to wait for you to- ah - get up - fuck - oh,” he whimpers, burying his face into the mattress before peeking at you with eyebrows knitting together, “when we were talking about l-last night, we - we couldn’t help ourselves.”

“don’t worry about me, i had plenty of dick to go for at least a whole month,” you stare at taehyung’s pinked lips for the briefest moment before searching his eyes, feeling a sudden heat rise to your cheeks when you notice he’d caught the lingering stare - last night was fun but all three of you were buzzed and possibly horny as hell, you’re not so sure if a kiss would be welcomed by either of them now that you’re all sober and awake.

“i’m gonna go shower,” you announce, throwing your feet over the edge of the bed, the sound of your padding steps drowned by their pleasured moans.

the hot shower helps ease the knots in your muscles and calm your mind - or at least partially. the sight of the two boyfriends shamelessly fucking in front of your eyes still plays at the back of your mind like a graphic scene. and so you find yourself caressing your hardened nipples, your free hand snaking down between your legs as a whimper escapes your mouth. almost as though anything louder, and the whole world would know what you’re doing.

“what? you’re touching yourself?” a melodic but dangerous voice reverberates against the wall and cuts through the sound of running shower.

before you can even call out - ask who it is even though it’s obvious whose voice it belongs to, the curtain is torn open, revealing a sculpted god - you didn’t notice last night because it was dark but even then you’d known those strong arms that held you must be hiding something else underneath those layer of clothes.

“oh, hey, tae - the bathroom’s kinda oc-” you were about to ask what he was doing because the bathroom was obviously occupied - besides the fact that it’s the guest room’s bedroom and the main bedroom had their own bathroom - but before you can, a pair of arms are pulling you against another body. muscular and deliciously built but exceptionally predatory.

“you weren’t gonna come without us, are you?” taehyung’s crestfallen expression is all you see. his downturned lips and puckered lips being your weakness.

“y-you guys were busy, so i-” your words are cut short when you feel the coldness of a breath against you damp ear, “uh-uh, who said we were?” jungkook’s teasing denial is what makes you clench your legs together, only for them to be pried open by the dark haired man who’s fallen to his knees right in front of you.

“tae!” you shriek, caught by surprised at the sudden lost of balance as he hooks one leg over his shoulder whilst your hand claws onto jungkook’s arms that’s banded over your chest for a sort of leviation.

“shhh,” jungkook hums in your ears, as though to say ‘we’d never let you fall’.

but you didn’t fall and taehyung’s looking at you with the prettiest eyes, “what? you said i didn’t have to ask, right?”

“n-no,” the heat comes on full force - all of a sudden, the hot water trickling down your bodies aren’t even remotely sufficient to keep you warm, “you don’t have to.”

and so it goes, your many firsts within the short span of less than 24 hours, spurred by the two wonderful souls you never thought you’d come to know so closely within the duration of your friendship.

you waited with nothing but a towel around your body until jungkook knocked on the door, a folded set of clothes in hand.

“oh hey thanks - don’t know what i’d do if i had to walk in the streets in fishnets and flashy red dress,” you force out a chuckle, cheeks heating up as you swipe the clothes off his hands in a blink of an eye. to which he heaves out a sigh, but the smile on his lips tells you that he’s all but angry.

“hey, i know what went on in the last few hours was crazy,” he starts, sounding uncannily casual about it, “but we don’t want this to get in the way of what we’ve built - can we talk about this over breakfast? tae’s making it now but- i mean, if you want to, of course.”

and that’s when you finally let the walls come tumbling down. standing there bare - quite literally - with your chest washed off its initial worries, “honestly, i’d really like that.”

“perfect,” the brightest smile lights up on his face and for a moment, you thought everything went back to normal. back when all three of you are hanging out and joking about the littlest things one of you realized and pointed out to the other two.

“oh and,” jungkook tilts his head to the side, “sorry if i was rude or anything last night,” he quickly adds, “and just now - i tend to be like that during sex.”

“oh,” is all that follows your response, thoughts running around before you can actually reach out one by one to process it - so single celled brain goes, “i kind of like that side of you, actually.”

“really?” there it goes the smile that could quite literally blind you as his shoulders visibly sags, “tae hates it when i boss him around - thank god that’s not the majority opinion from now on.”

“from now on?” you echo his words but before you can interrogate him some more, he’s out of the door and yelling for you to come to the kitchen when you’re done putting on the clothes.

so you find yourself sitting in front of the two boyfriend whom you’ve spend quite a night knowing. they’re gazing at you with eyes that can’t stop squinting into crescents and smile that can’t stop smiling.

“okay should i tell or you?” taehyung turns to the darker haired male, their hands that are twined together moving towards the man he’s pointing.

“how about together?” jungkook suggests, a glint in his eyes that makes you stare, wide eyed and unblinking. pancake lying cold and uneaten as you wait with bated breath, “...tell me what?”

before you can even finish your words, the two bursts out in exclamation, “we like you.”

taehyung’s is a bit more excited while jungkook’s is a tad bit reserved.

“i like you guys too!” you declare, hands clapping together in excitement.

“oh my god, you do?” taehyung squeals, bringing his free hand and the one he has twined with jungkook to his heart.

“don’t i?” you make a ridiculous sound, hand waving away the ludicrosity of the possibility of you saying otherwise, “i’m glad we get to put last night behind us and still be friends.”

“i don’t think she gets it,” jungkook says a whole heartbeat later whilst taehyung’s upturned lips gradually but surely falls.

“what?” your eyes flit between the two, as if trying to spot the thing you seem to obviously miss.

“sweetie,” taehyung reaches his hand to you, to which you gladly accept before jungkook does the same with his other hand and you similarly meet halfway over the table “we like like you,” the taller man emphasizes.

it takes you a moment to digest his words. another to squint your eyes at them with a ‘okay where’s the punchline?’ kind of smile. and one last moment for it to sink in, “i thought you guys were gay and last night and this morning was a mistake?”

“i thought so too,” taehyung is the first to break the bond, his free hand coming to his chest, bent in a 90 degrees angle, “but i’ve had girl crushes and they went away after i met jungkook so i thought they were just me being in denial of my sexuality but i like spending time with you and jungkook,” he slips his large hand into yours that stays frozen on the table where he’d left it, his thumb caressing your knuckles, “i like the way you smile, the way you’d team up with me to tease jungkook,” that receives a snort from the man in question, “the way you’re always so supportive and optimistic- i just - i like you.”

“well, what he said except i like everything he’s not about you,” jungkook simply says, “and unlike him, i know i’m bi.”

“and we want you to be a part of this wonderful, beautiful, delightful relationship,” taehyung adds, fixing you the most tender smile as he gazes at you as though he’s never seen such a magnificent creature before.

“i mean...” you breathe out, a sea of emotions crashing against your chest before you finally say, “this is a lot to take in guys. i don’t know what to say - i think i need some time for myself.”

“oh,” it’s the way taehyung seems like he has more to say, the way his smile is completely replaced with a hesitant flat line and the way jungkook lets go of their twined hands to rub the elder man’s back.

“it’s okay, take your time,” he says, and you shoot him a grateful but awkward smile before taking your things and leaving through the door. unsure of whether you’ll ever return. whether you’ll ever laugh about the stupidity of bravely idiotic characters in horror movies again. whether you’ll ever huddle in the kitchen trying to cook dinner for three again. whether those peaceful days will ever be yours again depending on your own choices.

days go by and then one week and then two and you’ve confided in at least two people whose reactions are similarly perturbed by what you’ve told them until you’ve concluded that nobody will truly understand the confusion and frustration and jitters that courses through your veins when you think about the two charming but glaringly different ends of the spectrum men.

one is like the blue sky, bright yet vast and a trove of never ending possibilities while the other is like the midnight sky, decked with fleeting moments of vulnerability and endless mystery. but both, you’ve come to realize, are the reasons your view of the world has changed for the better. made your days a little more worth looking forward to. and it’s exiting and daunting all at once because the people you’ve confided in have expressed their concerns and dissertation of what they think hides behind the veils of normality. a box they’re not so used to stepping out of and deems those beyond the cardboards uncommon. foreign. unknown.

and truthfully, you’ve already decided what you want - know what you want to do on your way back that day after you’d made a beeline for the door. and as you stand in front of the same door, sniffling from the remnants of your fight with your parents after your sister - one of the people you’d confided in - deliberately told them about what she thinks - and she thought right - you’re about to do.

two rings later, you’re staring at a face of an angel. doe eyes hiding behind jet black locks widening as the sight of you hits him like a brick.

“____, hey, it’s okay,” jungkook says in the softest voice as he gathers you in his arms like an old cardigan.

“baby, who’s at the door?” comes the loud but smooth baritone a minute later.

he must have seen himself - who their uninvited guest is as silence settles in between all three of you before taehyung’s coos, “oh, sweetie.”

it’s only after an hour of ice cream and watching friends and the two boyfriends wrapping you up in a burrito blanket that you blanket do you spill the beans on why you showed up at their door at 11 in the evening, looking like a mess they never ordered.

your parents are livid. they think this isn’t real - that you’re being delusional and that both taehyung and jungkook were messing with you. it was the slander on the two soul’s names that has you unleashing the words you’d never thought you’d say to your own parents.

“i can take liking girls. that’s fine - but a relationship of three?” your father had stood in front of you, fingers pointing at his head as he spat out, “are you crazy?”

the family dinner had turned into a family quarrel. and your sister had been caught up in between - she’d wanted you too see the ludicrosity of it all and if not her, then maybe you’d listened to your parents.

and listened you did.

like a time bomb surrounded with dynamites, you’d eventually exploded. anything you say would never get through the and anything they said, you’d taken negatively.

so you took the cab straight to taehyung and jungkook’s.

“i just - it hurts because they won’t accept you guys and that means they’re rejecting me,” you sniffle, “i’m sorry i took so long.”

“hey, it’s okay, you’re with us now,” jungkook gathers you in lap whilst taehyung wraps his arms around the both of you from your other side, “yeah, cry all you want sweetie, we’re here for you.”

you wake up the next morning huddled up in a king sized bed with the two men on either side of you, almost like a knights protecting their princess as she slept like a baby after crying her eyes out for another half hour. your legs are tangled together, a pair of mismatched hands on your stomach while a snore resounds from your left where taehyung is sleeping like a beauty and jungkook on your right like an angel.

and for the first time in a long time, that hollowness in your chest cowers away in the light of the day that seeps through the blinds, painting paralleled shadows over your skin.

“i love you,” you whisper, looking between their two peacefully sleeping faces.

x

“hey, beautiful, you come here often?” a gruff voice reverberates in your ears just as you’ve placed the order for you and-

“yeah, with my boyfriends,” you shoot him a polite smile before attempting to slip past him and the stools you’re trapped in between but before you can even manage to move, he inches closer.

it’s been a year since you’ve been dating taehyung and jungkook. eight months since you’ve decided to move in with them for good. your parents reached out to you two months ago after declaring your banishment from ever stepping in their property let alone attend family dinners and gatherings. your relatives have all heard about your unusual but not unreal relationship and so have taehyung’s and jungkook’s families.

opposition still rises from both sides of the families’ distant relatives. it’s not too far off from yours.

“oh, you mean how girls call their lady friends girlfriends,” a lecherous grin forms on his face, “i get it.”

“no,” you hiss, needles of annoyance getting to you earlier tonight than most nights, “i mean my boyfriends who i’m dating.”

the person frowns, confusion clearly painted in his face, “how can you be dating two people at once and those two people date each other while dating you?” he doesn’t even wait for your response as he takes a step back, “a simple ‘no’ could’ve done the trick, you think you’re better than me?”

“it’s cause we’re a thruple - like a couple but with three people,” you tilt your head to the side just the slightest bit, seeing him in a different but not any more attractive angle, “and honey, i know i’m better than you.”

and with that, you raise a challenging brow, daring him to say otherwise just as a smooth but deadly voice calls for you, “____, you were taking so long so we decided to check on you, is everything okay, sweetie?”

“hey man, what business do you have with our girlfriend?” jungkook lifts an eyebrow in a similar fashion as you as he glares down at the man who’s at least a few inches short.

“you-” the man steals a petrified glance at you as the realization sinks in his eyes but before he can say anything, you strut in between the two men, smirking when one of their arms snake around your waist in a possessive nature.

“nope,” you say simply, “shorty here was just leaving, weren’t you?”

he mumbles out something incoherent, between a ‘liar’ and ‘rude’ before scurrying away and out into another part of the bar until you can no longer see him.

“thanks for having my back, babes,” you stand on your tip toe only to have taehyung chuckle, bending over until your lips press his before doing the same to jungkook, “baby,” and the two sharing a kiss together a heartbeat later.

“let’s dance!” you grab their hands and begin to drag them to the dance floor which does nothing if they hadn’t move themselves and they know it too as they laugh, the taller men patting your hair gently because he knows how long you worked on it.

“our girlfriend is so cute, isn’t she?”

jungkook pushes taehyung’s hands away only to ruffle the top of your hair despite your protest, “sure is.”

“my hair!” you lament, “babes, baby messed up my hair!”

you tug on your boyfriend’s sleeve, the man looking between you and his boyfriend, unsure of whether to be the pacifier or the scolder. in the end, he goes in for a kiss on your pouted lips, “you look beautiful either way, sweetie.”

“oh my god, it’s ruined, isn’t it?” you question, eyes filling with dread.

the culprit has the gal to laugh at your predicament until you announce your choice of dance partner being your taller boyfriend for the rest of the night and him not exactly opposing it whilst jungkook is left to trail behind you until he catches up between you, arms around your waist and taehyung’s, “okay, okay, sorry - i’ll make it up to both of you later tonight!”

at that bold yet careless exclamation, you look at taehyung, only to see the corners of his lips lifting into a devious smirk similar to yours.

“it’s been awhile since we took out the whip, hasn’t it?”

[lorei-writes]

Lost Letters

Masamune x MC Fluff Parts of this work include suggestive content. [To avoid suggestive content, skip the following months: May, January.] Word Estimate: 2k

Honourable Customers,

We are pleased to inform You all the lost letters were successfully delivered.

Your trustworthy messengers, Azuchi-Kasugayama Postal Service Crew

Content Warnings: war mention, injury mention, suggestive content, food mention, anxiety mention

To my beloved Masamune. It is March now, and the frost has begun its retreat from the air. You are not here, and I do not expect to send this letter… Yet I miss you so much the words seem to be writing themselves without much help. In this very moment, I wish I could ask how your day was. It is one of those rare instances where I miss modern technology – my helplessness is simply disarming me completely. I console myself with the thought that you will be back tonight. I missed seeing your face so bad. There are so many things I want to tell you, my heart is overflowing. I don’t think I should let any of them spill, yet I cannot hold all either. So, even if just on this paper, I must confess: I love you, Masamune. I love you so much it hurts. I could not focus on anything but your return the entire day. I cannot let you see this letter. You will never let me forget it. Although maybe... Maybe I should.

To my beloved Masamune.

It is March now, and the frost has begun its retreat from the air. You are not here, and I do not expect to send this letter… Yet I miss you so much the words seem to be writing themselves without much help.

In this very moment, I wish I could ask how your day was. It is one of those rare instances where I miss modern technology – my helplessness is simply disarming me completely. I console myself with the thought that you will be back tonight. I missed seeing your face so bad. There are so many things I want to tell you, my heart is overflowing.

I don’t think I should let any of them spill, yet I cannot hold all either. So, even if just on this paper, I must confess: I love you, Masamune. I love you so much it hurts. I could not focus on anything but your return the entire day.

I cannot let you see this letter. You will never let me forget it. Although maybe... Maybe I should.

~

To my courageous Masamune.

It is April now, and you came back all beaten and tattered. Your muscles tensed whenever I touched your skin. The disinfectant seeping into your cuts did not help either, I suppose… But you hugged me tight all the same, and did not let go for long. Your breath tickled my neck as you held your ear pressed against my pulse. I wonder, how bad was it this time? But do not get me wrong. I do not mind, I can stay in your arms for however long you desire.

This time, however, it was different. I cannot describe the feeling that I felt when you looked up at me and simply said you feel terrible and need rest. You… Appeared so vulnerable? And I know it never comes easy to you to be in this state.

I love you so much. Thanks for coming back yet once again. I am writing this as you sleep only a few meters away. Please, rest well – and thank you for trusting me yet once again.

~

To my flirtatious Masamune.

It is May now, and the weather has got quite warm already. However, my dear tiger, treat this as a note of complaint! Although… You will never see it, hopefully. You would see all the other ones then.

Never mind that! How dare you! You big, unruly, sneaky…!!! You know my knees get weak when you kiss me, and yet…! In the middle of the crowd, at that! Truly, my “knees were not a problem” as you put it after lifting me up, but my face surely was! I was red like a crab, Masamune!

How dare you uphold that air of coolness! If it were not for what you whispered… Curse that too, argh! Surely, nobody realised, and you always walk this fast, but… But it is the next morning, and I still am a mess after all the things you did to me the last night!

How dare you stay on my mind even now. Well, you did leave some marks, so surely, it is hard not to think of it, but… ! I want to lay in your arms a little longer, but alas. You had to start work early today of all days…

~

To my caring Masamune.

It is June now, and somehow, I managed to catch a cold. It is nothing much, really, but you insist I don’t leave bed today… Honestly, I feel a little guilty, but I am enjoying myself. You’re spoiling me quite a lot, my love, and I can hardly oppose it…

You brought some of your work here, so that you could watch over me while I napped. You checked my fever, brought me more covers when I was cold, even got Shogetsu to cuddle me up. When I woke up, you cooked me porridge, and I don’t know what rituals you did in the kitchen,  but it was beyond delicious. Or perhaps I’m getting better?

My eyelids are heavier and heavier… And you’re insisting I stop writing and cuddle with you now. You didn’t want to move to sleep in a separate bed either…  How could I refuse? I swear, tiger, some may say you hardly care, but whenever I see you acting like this, my heart beats faster.

~

To my curious Masamune.

It is July now, and this is both a letter of praise, and of complaint. For somebody who learns so fast, you surely never learnt not to get taken away by challenges. However, here end my complaints, as it… Surely is quite entertaining.

We are still running away from our own allies now. We have just settled for the night, and you are calling for me to come eat and sit with you by the fire. Have I ever told you you are the most beautiful when you are free and wild? No? Because your eye sparkles so gorgeously now.

You’ve made me appreciate so many new sides of life. I love sharing it with you, both the good and the bad. I don’t know what you’ve made, but let’s be honest, there are only starts above us and I couldn’t care any less about food right now.

Yes, yes, I’m coming, you impatient cat…

~

To my hardworking Masamune.

It is August now, and you are swarmed with work. I do not know how you manage to stay on top of it… But truly, you seem tired now. You set off early, and come back late, and it takes little before you fall asleep.

You… You cannot know it, but each night, you return my embrace quite strongly, even if deep slumber has already claimed you. You are adorable – your nose crinkles slightly whenever I kiss your forehead. I started telling you I love you, and you usually mumble back that you love me too… Then you generally get a little upset and nuzzle into my neck, and sometimes scoff about some pillows or radishes, whichever one it is this time around.

I must never reveal the fact that you talk in your sleep if you are tired enough. What if you forbid me from ever indulging in it ever again? I don’t think I could live without it anymore.

Signed,

Your Beautiful Futon

~

To my joyous Masamune.

It is September now! I want to go celebrate with you, so this letter will be brief:

Thank you for having been born, Masamune.

Please, live a long life. I want to love you plenty more. I need to love you plenty more. To hear you laugh, to see your smile… Your happiness is infectious, and I want for it to last for as long as it can.

~

To my resilient Masamune.

It is October now, and it came in sour, as if to balance the joy of the previous month. This battle was harsh. You emerged victorious, but at what price? So many were lost… Although I think you would care even for a single person just as much. War is a dreadful thing, to say the least. You know it better than I will ever be able to. That is why you protect me from it, is it not? I wish I could carry half your burden...

When you returned, you only latched onto my wrist. Your hands were cold, and you looked almost lost. Were you scared that I would be gone too? My love, my heart… You held yourself together bravely the entire time, but I am glad you let yourself unwind once in our quarters. I needed to feel that you were alive too.

I helped you wash, and you seemed to relax when I ran my fingers through your wet hair. Perhaps the bath was a good idea in the end. I hope no nightmares come your way today – but if any do, I will do my best to chase them all away. I know you would do great by yourself… But I love you, so please, do share some of your concerns.

~

To my grumpy Masamune.

It is November now, and oh my, I got to pay you back for how sweetly you cared for me when I was ill. It appears it was your time, my love. I did not expect you to resist so much! “Sleep in a different room”?! As if I would even consider that much! But… You were quite sweet once you caved in. If we were in the future, I would give you a good patient badge!

Kojuro came in later too. You were so adorable when he started telling stories from your childhood! Ah, and you were locked in bed, so for once, I got a chance to actually listen to them too! A shy little Masamune… I wish cameras were a thing in this time.

It was a good day, but please, do not fall ill much. I will always care for you, it is only that… As much as your pouts were a sight to behold, I love your content smile even more. I will have to make some of today up to you.

~

To my thoughtful Masamune.

It is December now, and you surprised me yet once again. I do know we celebrated Christmas together once, but I did not expect for you to hold onto the idea. This time, you organised everything by yourself, with your own twists to everything.

The party was great – the music, the food, the gifts, I loved every single moment of it. You dressed well too, and I swear, you look even more handsome in the more so festive clothes. It was just cool enough for me to shamelessly cuddle into your side as well… Did you plan that as well?

I must thank you for the gift tomorrow. You must have had ordered this fabric months in advance. It… It really feels amazing knowing that you truly listen to what I say. I love you, Masamune. Somehow, you have this way of making me feel loved even without using any words.

~

To my adventurous Masamune.

It is January now, and winters in this part of the country tend to grow rather harsh. The snow is thick, and it seemingly keeps on falling, and falling… I did not expect for you to suggest taking a trip, much less one to the hot springs.

I do not know what heated me up more – your kisses or the water. Good thing we retreated to our room fast, otherwise we could be thrown out of the estate. I am quite relaxed after we have made love… Perhaps my initial fear of you suggesting doing it in the snow was completely unfounded. Well, you would not force me to go forward with it anyway, but your drive for novelty is infectious at times.

You went out to get some food for us to share, and I am still lying in bed. The pillow smells of you, and the covers are pleasantly warm from our shared heat. I think you will want to slide right next to me once you are back, will you not? I know you do better with cold than the heat, but is it not too tempting? Ah, I think I can hear your steps… I wonder, what are those plans for tomorrow you have made.

~

To my calm Masamune.

It is February now. You seem to be at home plenty, and I welcome the change. We cook together nearly everyday, and I am enjoying it a lot. At first, those were more of classes than anything else, but now… We recreated some of the future dishes I told you about. Is that not amazing? You truly could be a chef in my original time.

However! Today I shall take my revenge! Just you wait and see, Masamune Date! I will pay you back for all those hugs from behind, and “sampled dishes”, and for all those “you seem to have a bit of the sauce over your lips”! I prepared something you did not expect yourself, and you have made me this devil!

I hope I can get this surprised face out of you. It should be tasty enough for that? I should carry it to you before it gets cold…

~

To my beloved Masamune.

It is March again, and I love you all the same.

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[band--psycho]

Negan x Reader-You’re Different

For  my amazing friend @little-diable writing challenge!! I hope you enjoy this!

Prompt: In my heart there was a kind of fighting that’s would not let me sleep (Prompt in bold)

Warnings- A lot of smut (18+ if you’re under 18 do not read!)

Y/ns POV

In my heart, there was a kind of fighting that would not let me sleep and this wasn’t the first night this had happened either. And it was all because of one person. Negan. The leader of The Saviors. He was someone people feared, hell most people saw him as a monster and I knew he had that side to him...but he was different around me. He was real, not the fierce leader he was in front of the other Saviors. We’d talk about our life before this, about the threats he and our people were facing. And overtime I grew a sweet spot for him, one that saw past the act he put on and he grew a soft spot for me too, I wasn’t a wife and I’d never so much as kissed Negan but I had all of the privileges of a wife and he’d bring me back gifts from runs. Unlike the wives who normally got some form of lingerie or something else sexual, he gave me books, so much so I basically had a whole library in my room. But recently, I couldn’t help the thoughts that crept into my night when I was alone. The other day when I walked past his room and heard him moaning I couldn’t help the dampness that I felt in my panties. I tried to brush away those thoughts, but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. I craved him in a way I never craved anyone before. I knew he wasn’t seeing any of his wives tonight and before my brain could even really register what my body was doing, I was knocking on his door. I rarely ever visited him unless Simon had told me he wanted me to, normally Negan would come to my room which would explain the quizzical look he had on his face.

“Doll? What’re you-” before he could say anything else I pressed my lips to his, the pent up need I had for him taking over my brain and my body. Soon enough, he was kissing me back just as intensely. His salt and pepper beard was rough against my skin, but I didn’t care, both of us were too entranced in the kiss, our lips attacked each other for a while, fighting for dominance, which of course he won. The kisses weren’t slow and sensual they were quick and desperate and right now that’s what I craved.A small noise of shock escaped my mouth at the feeling of my back colliding with the cold door which was now firmly shut. But it didn’t take long until my attention was back on the kiss. I craved him, every part of him and that’s when I felt his growing erection pressing against my thigh as the kiss got more intense and I couldn’t resist grinding against him, desperately trying to search for something, anything to cure the aching pleasure I had.But without any hesitation his hands held my waist in place, his dominant touch making the arousal I was already feeling multiply causing the dampness in my panties to grow. I’d never felt anything like this, not even for previous boyfriends I had when the world was normal. He lit a fire inside me that I couldn’t dim.

“I need you,”I whispered against his lips, he studied my eyes for a few moments, more than likely trying to figure out what was running through my head, but when I repeated, I noticed how his eyes grew dark with lust, a look that made the pleasure I was feeling almost unbearable. He knew it as well as I did. Instead of attacking my lips, he attacked my neck, sucking and biting all over my sensitive flesh.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and do exactly what I tell you, understand?” He drawled in a deep voice, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered obediently, knowing full well I was going to do whatever he said, no questions asked. A low chuckle left his lips, his gloved hand lightly tilting my chin up to look at him directly in the eyes,“Oh sweetheart, you call me daddy when we’re alone, understand?” All I could do was nod in response, feeling the words I wanted to say get lost in my throat as I stared into his eyes.

“Speak when you’re spoken to sweetheart.”he ordered, the softness in his voice contradicting the fiery look of desire in his eyes.

“Do you understand,” he asked, moving his gloved hand downward and wrapping it around my throat just hard enough to make the pleasure inside me build. 

“Yes, daddy,” as soon as I said those words, that all too familiar smirk came upon his face.

“Strip,” he breathed into my ear, the warmth of his break making the hair on the back of my neck stand up in excitement as he slowly released his grip on my throat. I menatally whined as his body backed away from mine slightly,taking the warmth of his body with him. Of course I obeyed his orders, quickly disregarding my pyjama shorts and top, leaving me in nothing but my sports bra and panties. He stood there, his eyes wandering down my body but as I felt his eyes on my body I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? I thought to myself, the reality of the situation suddenly dawning on me. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as his eyes  wandered down my body. What if he doesn’t like what he sees…that thought kept running round and round in my head, but that thought was halted in its tracks when I felt Negan's hands on my face.

“Doll,” he asked softly, both of his hands simultaneously tracing small circles on to my cheeks before moving closer to me. 

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous, doll,” he reassured, his hands slowly trailing to the bottom of my sports bra, his eyes searching mine for permission to remove it. I simply nodded as he lifted the bra over my head, throwing it into the pile of clothes already on the floor. Negan’s eyes darted down to my breasts, smirking as he slowly kissed down my chest, his hands now delicately rubbing over my nipples, His actions made all the anxiety I had fade away, all I could focus on was him, his hands, his mouth. A deep chuckle reverberated against my skin as he got to the waistband of my panties, his middle finger tracing along my clothed slit; instinctively I attempted to close my thighs, not knowing how much longer I could last.. 

“Get on the bed and spread those sweet fuckin’ legs, sweetheart” he mumbled against my skin as he kissed from my abdomen all the way back up to my lips. Of course I obeyed, quickly making my way to bed and spreading my legs near enough as soon as my body hit the silk sheets of his bed. 

“I’ve barely done anythin’ yet and you’re already this fuckin’ soaked,” it wasn’t a question. It was a statement and one he was more than happy to make, the pride oozing out of his voice. As he said those words I felt the bed dip slightly under the weight of him as he kneeled at the bottom of the bed. He then started kissing my legs, working his way up from my ankle to my thigh and back down again, going from one leg to another, his beard only adding to the pleasure I was feeling ,while his hands tightly held  on to both of them making sure I couldn’t move. Waiting was torture, I knew exactly where I wanted him but he wanted to tease me instead, which was all well and good, but the more he did this the more I felt lke I would come undone without him even touching my aching pussy.

“Daddy, please,” I whined, the desire I was feeling nearly overflowing. 

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he cooed, his finger lightly tracing over the place I craved him most. 

“You,” and that was the only answer he needed before he ripped my panties from my body, freeing my dripping pussy.

“I’ll give ya the choice, sweetheart, seen as I don’t think you’re gonna last long,” he whispered against my skin, one hand coming up to caress my breast, whilst the other was still holding my thigh. 

“Do you want daddy's tongue and fingers or do you want daddy's cock?” the hand that was once on my thigh, moving to my pussy, a single finger tapping against my swollen clit. I knew Negan was an experienced lover, even his wives (who hated him) always sex with him was something out of this world.I knew either way, I was going to be screaming and moaning in pleasure because of him but as the thought lingered in my head I felt eyes  drift down to the erection that was covered by Negan's trousers. 

“Use your words baby girl,” my heart fluttered at the nickname he called me as I tried to find my voice.

“I want you cock, daddy, please” I begged, desperately craving to release the pleasure that was still building inside me. 

“As you fuckin’ wish,” he cooed, leaning up to place a quick though heated kiss on my lips, before getting off of the bed, stripping himself bare. The confidence he had just seemed to flow off of him and I couldn’t help but stare in awe at his body. My eyes started at his chiseled tattooed chest and then moved further down to his cock. He. Was. Huge. 

“Like whatcha see,” he teased, kneeling between my thighs, the head of his cock agonizingly close to the place I needed him the most. But instead of entering me, he just stared at me for a while, the look in his eyes changing from lust and desire to a look I’d never seen on him before. A look that made my heart swell. A look of adoration...of love…

“Negan?” I asked, leaning up slightly, placing a hand over his chest lightly. 

“You’re different,” he whispered, his eyes still locked on mine as his hands went back to my face, caressing my cheeks again. 

“Different?” I asked softly only causing Negan to let out a small chuckle at the confused look on my face. 

“I love you,” he whispered  so quietly I wasn’t entirely sure that I’d heard him right but before I had time to say anything back, he was crashing his lips onto mine. It was different then before, it was slow and loving. As he continued to kiss me, I felt him lightly push my body back down on the bed. While his lips were still placed on mine, I felt him guide his throbbing hard cock into my soaking wet pussy. Both of us letting out a moan at the sensation of each other, it was an incredible feeling and he hadn’t even moved yet. Slowly he began to move his hips, his cock gently thrusting inside of me and then the speed of his thrusts began to increase and I couldn’t help but roll my hips back at him in response, when we broke away from the kiss and locked eyes with each other we both knew we were chasing our release. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good, babygirl,” he whispered breathlessly as his thrusts increased in speed; all I could do was moan in response, edging towards my climax even more. He kissed down my chest, just as he had done earlier, one hand squeezing my breast while he sucked on the other one. His tongue rolling over my hardened nipple, the other hand pinching at the sensitive budd on my breast, whilst he was doing this his thrusts began to get deeper, every single one of them hitting my G-spot. 

“Da..Daddy,” I stuttered out, feeling his thrusts get quicker. 

“Cum,” he ordered, and as if on my cue, my body responded, clenching around his dick as he spilled his seed inside of me. I couldn’t help but moan loudly not being able to contain the amazing feeling I felt releasing all of the pent up pleasure that had been building, I was sure half the sanctuary was going to hear me but I didn’t care. Both of us were panting as he pulled out and rolled off of me, before sitting up slightly, pulling my body into him. 

“You were fuckin’ amazing babygirl,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head, whilst his arm soothingly stroked my arm. I smiled in response, my finger lightly tracing over his tattoo before whispering “I love you too, Negan,” into his neck. I saw a smile on his face grow, it wasn’t a devilish smile, it was a pure smile. He held me close to him, like he was scared I was going to vanish and I reassured him the only way I knew I could, with featherlight kisses and comforting words and eventually we fell asleep wrapped in each others arms, not waking until the sunlight of a new summer's day bled through the curtains.

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[justasoftstan]

This Moment

Characters: Junhui x Reader

Genre/warnings: Angst. Little Fluff. Idol!Reader , Idol!Seventeen Jun

Word count: 1592 words.

The burden of being an idol. How does it really weight?

Is it heavy as the make-up you wear? Or the clothes and costume changes’ you wear?

Is it heavy as the harsh criticisms and training period you must endure?

Is it heavy as the burdens and problems you share with your members that you are leading?

Or is it on the opinions of the media and prying eyes of the public on you and your personal life?

How does a person can carry all of it without breaking their backs and crumbling down when everything else seems to fail? You do not know how, but you managed. Or trying not to crumble down. Not when you have other people to think. If you go down, they will go down too.

So, you close your eyes and take a deep breathe. Allowing yourself to be consumed by the energy coming from the screams and cheers of the people who supported you from the start. They are the exact reason you are standing there. The very people who helped you achieved your dream. The very people who spent their money and time to see you there. You have no excuse for petty problems you have in your life.

“5 MINUTES, BE READY TO BE ONSTAGE”. The shout from one of the directors distracted you from your thoughts, reminding you where you are. You scramble in the dark trying to find your way to your members before going onstage.

There they are, forming a circle. You squeezed in between them, “Sorry, I forgot were doing this.”

“Relax, Leader-nim. We are going to rock this stage tonight.” One of your members said with a reassuring smile. Earning a form of motivational cheering from other members. Well, it seems like you are not the only one nervous tonight.

You did a final speech hyping your members up before wearing the fake confidence you are forced to practice even in the corners of your practice room. Soon you are met by the thousands of people who came to spend their night to see you perform. Allowing their energy to consume you as give your best performing your songs and singing with your heart. It is one of those nights where feel all the energy and the emotions of your songs that feels like it is the only way to express your emotions. And as you prance around the stadium, you see familiar faces cheering alongside the fans. Despite being half-covered, you recognized their faces. It was Dino who you first recognized, shouting for your name when you made eye contact with him. Then he pointed out Jun, who is just a seat from him beside Hoshi. Your first instinct was to wave at them with a big smile. Then one of your members noticed you waving at some guys, and soon she was there beside you are waving along with you, even sending finger hearts at them.

Some fans around them took notice of this and start looking around them. Not long enough, they realized that 5 of the members from Seventeen are in their area. Loud screams from their area ignited as the news spread in that side of the venue. They did not go unnoticed by your other members and soon they are going on that side saying hello to the members of Seventeen. This made you nervous and self-conscious as you go on with your concert. It didn’t help when you heard a fan in the crowd say, “Yah! Seventeen is here watching the concert. Bet they are dating one of them.”

The weight of those words lingered on your mind as the light gone off and you descended backstage. Are we getting obvious? Are my actions getting easy to read? Did the fans know? Or did they just make an assumption? Thoughts are running in your mind as you are led into changing rooms for a quick costume change before the final part of the concert. The other members are cheerily sharing stories and funny encounters they had during the concert. One of them even saying she saw a fan screaming loudly because she saw seventeen not the dance break. This makes you even more nervous.

It is not a secret that your group and the seventeen are close. Despite not debuting at the same time, most of your members are the same age with the maknae line. Keeping a close relationship with the latter group. Fans even admire the senior and junior relationship your group have with them. But will they admire you still if they found out that you are dating one of their members? You just opt to expect the worst-case scenario. It is your members that only knows about your relationship with Jun. Not really trusting your outside circle and definitely not agency and the media. You would not take the risk.

Your change of demeanor does not go unnoticed by Jun when your group came back the stage for the final part of the concert. Your stiff posture and calculated moves, trying not to face their area are already a confirmation that you are avoiding interaction with them. He would not deny that this hurts him too. The weight of you being a leader is enough and he would not want to add another burden to you because this relationship between the two of you. He too, is scared if the media exposes your relationship, he will not want you to be hurt, he wanted to be your comfort, the one who will be there for you when the world crumbles down. Now he is having second thoughts if coming here for support added some stress in you. For him it is the only thing that he knows to express his love for you. Even if it is masked by being a senior in the industry in order to protect you.

Even your members did notice your stiff posture, constantly joining you on stage, putting their arms around you and being playful with you trying to cheer you up. It did cheer you up and you are thankful for the members deeply for being there always. You kept your energy up, trying all the things to keep that smile on your face. Until one of your ending songs came, the melody of the song undeniably makes people cry.

You probably will not know yet

How precious you are

I hope the you in you don’t forget

Your every moment, moment

If I tell you this, will you know

That the paths you’ve walked on are beautiful

If you pause for a while and look back you’ll know

The beautiful moments you’ve left behind

It feels like you are singing to yourself. The lyrics consumes your body, and you can’t help but to tear up.

Your every moment is all you

Wherever you’re standing

I will hug you so you won’t feel hurt

Just like the day you hugged me

I love all of your every moment, moment

Even if the day comes when I’m not by your side

Even if I remain just as a small piece of memory

I’m fine, they are all your moments

After the chorus you are full blown crying, you are thankful that you are placed behind the members so that the fans do not notice your tears and you try to wipe your tears away.

Just like the day you hugged me

Always like that day

I am thankful for having met you

Who left happiness in my life

I will remember this moment

No matter what hardships come

We will always be together

You remember this moment. This in front your fans, together with your members. Despite the burden of being an idol and the hardships you have to go through; you’ve found happiness in your life. From the encouraging words your fans, the overflowing love and support you receive from the people whom you do not even know personally. Even if you think you did not deserve any of this. You will definitely remember this moment. You will treasure it deeply in your heart. That is why you sing the last few parts of the song with that in mind.

Remember this moment, moment

This happiness that we discovered together

I will hug you so you won’t feel hurt

Just like how we’ve always done for each other

Even when the days we’ve been together become moments

And the days we were together all leave

Love the past days that we were each other’s moment

Every moment, moment

The concert ended well, and you cannot wait to go home and rest. When you and your members had gone backstage you are welcomed by a strong pair of arms, engulfing you in a tight hug.

“You did well. I am so proud of you. You deserved all the love that you receive, and I hope you don’t doubt yourself anymore.” Jun said softly in your ear as he gently swayed the two of you. Hearing those words, you hugged him tighter burying your head in chest. Muttering a couple of thank you’s. The two of you stayed like that a couple of seconds before Hoshi grabbed you out of Jun to hug you pouting playfully that you do not pay attention to him. You just laughed as your other members boo’ed him. This moment right here, together with your members and your loving boyfriend, you know that you have enough to face anything and share the burden of being an idol.

a/n: I really liked this imagine and spent my afternoon making this. This is by far the longest imagine that I wrote. The song I used is Moment by Apink.

- summer

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[drabbles-mc]

“A Family? With Me?”

Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, oral sex

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Thank you so much to @masterlistforimagines​ for this request! It was so much fun and also got me out of my comfort zone since I haven’t written anything for Bishop yet. A little steamy, and a little sweet too. I hope you enjoy it!! 🥰❤

The two of you were lying together in bed, half watching the television and half trying to decompress. You were draped across his chest, your legs tangled up with his. It had been a long week for the both of you for completely different reasons. You were working through the second week of school with your students, still trying to get them back into their routine after their summer vacation of being able to wreak havoc at home. And Bishop had been in deep with a lot of club and cartel business. You had learned over the years that you really only had to ask so many questions. There was a lot that you didn’t need, and didn’t want, to know. You trusted him to tell you everything that was necessary and the rest was left to your imagination.

“You’re sure you’re alright with staying home tonight?” you looked up at him, wanting to see any shift in his expression. There was a party at the clubhouse tonight, but earlier in the day he had told you that he was happy to spend the night recovering from the week at home.

He smiled, pressing a kiss against your forehead, “I told you, mi vida, I would much rather be here with you.”

You smiled to yourself as you snuggled more into his chest. You took his hand in yours, toying with his fingers as he watched the television. You ran your finger along his wedding band, the only jewelry he wore at home. A quiet laugh escaped your lips, “Settled down looks good on you, Obispo.”

He chuckled, gazing down at you, “You think so?”

You resituated yourself so you were sitting up, cross-legged on the bed next to him. “You think you would’ve given up a Friday night at the clubhouse for this five years ago when we first got together? Or two years ago when we first got married?”

He smirked, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at you, “Maybe not. I guess you have settled me down,” he reached out and pulled your hand towards him, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, “I’m thankful for you for that, Y/N.”

“You don’t think I’ve made your life too boring?” you raised an eyebrow.

He shook his head without any hesitation, “Not at all. The stories you bring home about your students? Your life is anything but boring.”

You laughed, nodding, “Yea, the kiddos certainly keep me on my toes.”

“You have the patience of a saint, Amor. Your students are lucky to have you.”

“Mmm,” you hummed in approval, “Can I ask you something?” you still had your hand in his, tracing your thumb along his wedding band.

“You can always ask me anything.”

You pressed your lips together for a moment, trying to choose your words carefully, “Have you ever thought about…you know…having some kiddos of your own?”

His eyes went from looking down at your entwined hands to searching your face, “Kids?”

You let out a nervous laugh, nodding, “Yea. You know, you ever pictured having a family? With me?”

He sat upright and faced you. You couldn’t tell from the look on his face what his response was going to be, and it put your stomach in knots. You couldn’t really believe that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, even if he had thought about it and thought it wouldn’t be a good idea. But you couldn’t tell.

“Of course I’ve pictured it,” a smile broke out onto his face as he took your hands in his own, “I’ve thought about it from the second you said you’d spend the rest of your life with me,” the smile faded for a moment, “But are you sure that’s what you want? The life I live, Amor, I know it’s not exactly—”

You cut him off, cupping his chin in your hand, “If the life you live scared me, Obispo, I wouldn’t be here with you right now,” you smiled when you saw how his body relaxed at your words, “You’re a good man, a good husband,” you leaned in and kissed him on the lips, “And you’d be a great father.”

He wasn’t always the most expressive man, but over the years you spent with him, you had learned how to read the small shifts in his facial expressions. You could tell that he was fighting the urge to let a smile take over his face. He was guarded. He had worked hard on letting you in, and you knew that this conversation didn’t come easy for him. There were a lot of concerns and insecurities you knew he had bottled up. Your hand was still on the side of his face and he leaned into it, melting into your touch as his eyes closed for a moment. Your heart swelled inside your chest at the thought of starting a family with the man sitting in front of you.

“I love you,” your voice was soft.

He looked up at you, pressing a kiss into your palm, “I love you too.”

There were a few beats of silence before he reached over, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you over to you were situated on his lap. His hands rested on your hips as your fingers found their way to his hair. You gently ran them through the waves on top of his head as you kept your eyes fixed on his. You felt him lift your shirt enough to slide his hands underneath the fabric so they could feel the soft, warm skin of your back. It sent chills all across your body, but you settled against his touch nonetheless.

“I can’t wait to have a family with you, Y/N,” his voice was low, his overflowing emotions palpable as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

You smiled, leaning so your forehead was pressed against his. “Then let’s not wait,” you kept your voice quiet too.

One side of his mouth kicked up in a smirk and you could see the thoughts racing in his mind. You smiled and kissed him hard on the lips before leaning away from him just enough so that you could pull his t-shirt off over his head. You cupped his face in both your hands and kissed him again, letting your hands trail down his neck and chest, fingernails setting in just enough to get a rise out of him. He bit your bottom lip lightly, just enough to let you know that you had gotten to him. A giggle escaped you as you lowered one hand, stroking him through his boxers as you kissed along his cheek and jawline. His breathing hitched for a moment before he lifted your chin so that he could kiss you, his grip tightening around your waist.

He pulled your shirt off over your head before holding you close to him and turning so that you were on your back underneath him. He caressed your face for a moment before leaning down and kissing you. You couldn’t help but to smile at how needy it felt—it was nice to see this side of him. His hands were roaming and grabbing you, trying to keep you as close to him as he physically could.

He reached down, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. You laughed as you lifted your hips so he could slide them down your thighs before you kicked them off the rest of the way. He positioned himself between your legs, his hands running over your thighs before gripping them, causing you to gasp. He was kissing your neck, his stubble causing you to giggle slightly as it brushed against your sensitive skin. You placed one hand on the back of his head, moaning quietly as he sank his teeth into you to leave a mark for when this was over.

He left a trail of kisses down your chest and stomach as he came to rest between your legs. You looked down at him as he kissed the insides of your thighs. You whimpered in anticipation and he looked up at you, a smirk on his face. You could feel his breath against you and you wanted to reach down and push his face into you.

As if he was reading your thoughts, he leaned in and kissed your folds before running his tongue along them. You let out a shaky moan at the sensation. You couldn’t help yourself as your fingers found their way to his hair, gripping and making sure that he didn’t move from where he was. You felt a vibration against your core as he chuckled at your neediness. You filled your bedroom with the sound of his name as he continued to lick and tease you. His hands gripped your thighs tight for a few moments before he took one of your wrists in each of his hands, pinning them down onto the mattress. You whined, trying to fight against his grip even though you knew it was futile.

You looked down at him and his eyes met yours, and you could tell that there was a smile on his face, loving every second of driving you crazy. His tongue grazed over your clit and you whined at how good it felt as he continued. You felt your legs start to tremble and you wished that he wasn’t keeping your hands pinned down.

“Obispo,” you gasped, “I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

At those words, he let go of your wrists, allowing you to grip onto his head, pushing him against you as he pushed you over the edge. Your eyes shut tight, letting out a loud moan as your thighs pinned either side of his head. Despite the fact that your whole body was shaking, he didn’t stop until you pushed him back, and even then, he put up a little bit of a fight. There was a smirk on his face as he came up, kissing you hard on the lips. His tongue ran along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, letting him make you taste yourself off of his tongue.

You hadn’t noticed that at some point during that, he had slid out of his boxers. But as you were locked in another kiss with him, you felt him pushing lightly against your entrance. Your eyes opened and a smile spread across your face as you looped your legs around his waist, pulling him inside of you. He let out a moan as he sank into you. He bit down on your shoulder as you ran your nails down his back.

“You feel so good,” his growled in your ear.

You moaned as he began to thrust into you, “I love when you fuck me.”

He kept a firm grip on your hips as he quickened his pace. It wasn’t often that he was overly vocal, but he couldn’t keep himself from moaning as he pounded into you. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself a little contained, but it wasn’t easy. Your hands gripped the sheets, eyes rolling back for a moment at the stimulation.

He lifted one of your legs so that it was draped over his shoulder and you gasped as he hit you from a new angle. You knew it wasn’t going to be long before you would cum again. You moaned as his hand slid up your chest and landed around your neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you locked your eyes on his.

You felt his thumb press a little harder into your throat as his pace faltered for a moment. He was close. Your moan came out hoarse because of the grip he had on you. He grunted as he continued thrusting into you. His jaw went lax and he let go of your throat completely as he came inside you. He let your leg drop back down as he tried not to collapse all of his weight on you.

He looked down into your eyes, and you could see on his face that he was a little dazed from the whole experience. You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress a smile as you cupped his cheek in your hand. He leaned into your touch as you traced his bottom lip with your thumb.

He slowly and carefully pulled out of you, lying on his side next to you. His hands traced all of the curves of your body as his eyes raked over you.

“We should’ve started doing this a long time ago, Amor,” he let out a winded laugh.

You smiled, shaking your head, “Yea, it’s all fun and games for now, Obispo,” you patted his chest, “Just you wait. You won’t think it’s so fun when I’m all fat and hormonal.”

“Hmm,” he peppered your neck and shoulder with kisses, “I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Remember you said that,” you laughed as he pulled you on top of him and into a hug.

You rested your head against his chest, loving how you could feel how fast you made his heart beat. He started running his fingers through your hair and you settled against him. There was a long road ahead for the two of you, but you couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

It had been a few months since you had talked with him about having kids. Like most things, it didn’t happen on the first try. You knew the chances of that were slim to none. And, as far as you and Bishop were concerned, there wasn’t a huge rush. He liked having any excuse to have a lot of sex with you, and you had to admit that it was a definite bonus of this whole process.

You were almost a week late. You didn’t want to get your hopes up too high because you knew that your cycle had never been super consistent to begin with. For that reason alone, you figured it was going to take a little bit to conceive. But still, you decided it couldn’t hurt to take a test.

Or two, when the first one came back as positive.

“Obispo!” you called out from the bathroom.

You heard his footsteps leading up to the door, and then a gentle knock as he asked for permission to come in. He poked his head in, a confused look on his face, “Everything alright, mi vida?”

“Come here, please?” you were sat on the toilet with the lid closed, staring hard at the counter.

He stepped into the bathroom, still clearly lost as to what was going on. You tossed him the test you had taken first. He caught it, but barely. His eyes grew wide as he took in the word “Pregnant” in small letters in the tiny window.

“Y/N, are you telling me—”

“I took a second one just to be sure,” your voice was shaking as you waved him over.

He sat on the edge of the toilet, wrapping his arm around you as both of you now locked your eyes on the second test that was resting on the counter.

“I need to wait two more minutes before I can check for the result,” you gripped his hand in yours, “It��s going to be the longest fucking 120 seconds of my life.”

He pressed a kiss on your temple, “We got this, Amor. No matter what.”

You let out an unsteady sigh. You thrived off of how sure of himself he always was. He balanced you out better than anyone else ever had. The seconds ticked by and the two of you sat there, uncomfortably perched on the toilet lid.

He glanced down at his watch, “It’s time.”

You shook your head, “You do it. I can’t.”

He reached forward and delicately took the test in his hands. You couldn’t look at what was in his hands. Instead, you kept your eyes on his face because it would tell you everything that you needed to know. He let out one short, choked laugh as his free hand came up to cover his mouth. For the first time since your wedding day, you saw tears gathering in his eyes as he smiled.

“Y/N,” his voice was trembling, “Y/N, we’re having a baby.”

Tears were already running down your cheeks as your face broke out into a huge grin, “Yea?”

He nodded, standing and scooping you up into his arms and pulling you tight against his chest, “We’re having a baby,” he pressed his lips against the top of your head, and you could feel his body trembling from all the feelings coursing through it.

“We’re having a baby, Obispo,” you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile.

He smiled as you wiped the tears of joy off his cheeks, “Yea, we are.”

[uhgoodmoni]

Oil Paints | MYG

Summary: t’s Yoongi’s bday!!! His girlfriend has noticed how he’s been blowing off the idea of anything happening for his birthday. Everyone will be busy. You don’t have to get him anything. He just wants to relax. Blah blah blah. Despite all that, she still wants to do something a little special. Nothing crazy because she knows he wouldn’t like that, but just a nicely set dinner, some wine, and a couple of gifts to surprise him when he gets home from work. It’s perfect, mood lighting at all! Surprise, surprise! He’s not answering his calls, worrying her to death.

(This is so late for his bday but thats okay because life happens! Thanks for reading!)

Warnings: - angst, pure angst - fluff -

Ao3 - Wattpad

How’s it going?

This was the tenth message that I had sent to Yoongi. It was also the tenth message he didn’t respond to. He was just busy. I already knew that. He told me. But I was just worried. He had a horrible week. Each day was more draining than the last, and I was sure that he wasn’t giving himself a break either. I can always tell when he’s about to hit his limit. I wish he wouldn’t hold it in so much. Especially since it was his birthday. Big Hit wouldn’t overwork him on his birthday? Would they? 

Well, they probably would, except I knew that Yoongi himself was overworking himself too. He works so hard. Too hard sometimes, and the boys or I would have to remind him to take some free time. But he wanted the projects to be perfect. I was proud of him for working so hard but I just wished he would take a break when given the chance. 

Today was one of those chances. Of course, he went to work early, so did I. But he said he would be working a bit late, he wouldn’t get home until around eight. It was a little disappointing to not be able to spend his birthday with him. Not that he wanted me to plan anything, but just being able to shower him with affections would be enough. Watching movies, listening to him rant about his next mixtape. That’s all I wanted for today. Instead, I had to watch his birthday live from my work desk. He seemed happier than he had been the whole week. Namjoon and Jin came in to visit him. It was refreshing to see him smile so freely. He really was happy doing this job, it just always seemed to nag at him, till he overflowed. Even the things you love can be stressful. Usually, he never got this bad, holding onto the stress and then letting it out on a song for something, but recently he hadn’t found time to work on his solos. Busy with schedules. 

That’s probably the same reason Yoongi’s bday live didn’t last very long. Yoongi didn’t seem too happy to be leaving. But he had said that they had more filmings coming up, and to look forward to new works. How much work did he really have? I just couldn’t wait for him to get home. He could kick up his feet, enjoy some good alcohol and be the little spoon if he wanted. 

Despite his wishes for me to do absolutely nothing for him. I had catered his favorite dinner to the house. A surprise for when he got home, I didn’t mind a late dinner. With his busy schedule he hadn’t found time to do more art. He enjoyed painting so I got him some art supplies for home. Tonight I knew he would just want to stay home and relax so I figured dinner from home and maybe a movie didn’t sound too bad. The boys had already greeted him separately from their busy schedules and now it was my turn. Waiting, waiting. 

The day went by slowly. My worries were rapidly taking over my mind, however, I tried to assure myself that he was just busy. He’ll come home and the rest of the night will be okay. 

Except he didn’t. It was nine and he wasn’t home. No answer to any of my calls or texts. I tried to not spam him too much, but knowing that he normally always answers, I was beginning to stress. 

“I’m sorry for calling, I just am really worried about him.” I bite into the skin of my finger, tapping my foot on the floor. In front of me, the dinner sits. Cold now. 

“No it’s okay, maybe he just fell asleep in the studio.” Namjoon hums through the other side of the phone. I let out a strained chuckle. That would be such a relief. Worked himself so hard he just took a nap. Namjoon is always the right person to call in these situations. He doesn’t sound as worried. He knows Yoongi a bit better than I. Maybe I should be less worried too. “Mhm, he’s not here. I’ll give him a call, but maybe he just left and is on his way home. Maybe his phone died.” Namjoon’s explanations were perfectly rational. But that didn’t change the fact that I was worried. 

“Okay…” I tried to hide my tone, “I’ll let you know when he gets home.”

“Yup, and I’ll let you know if I hear from him before that.”

I sighed, “Thank you.” We said our goodbyes and hung up. Now all that was left to do was wait. But each moment was an itch in the back of my head. Something must have happened. Why else would he not respond? Why would he just disappear like that? What if there had been an accident? What if he got into an accident on the way home. There were so many possibilities. What if he got mugged. Oh god, I was starting to sound ridiculous. But maybe there had been a car accident… no. 

Not allowing myself to continue thinking like that I packed up the food into containers. He can take it tomorrow for lunch. I’m not hungry anymore anyway. After I packed up the food I tidied up around the house, distracting myself with anything. The house was already clean but double-cleaning isn’t bad. He still wasn’t home after everything was cleaned up. I took to the couch, watching the door with a frown. No texts from him, and no texts from Joon. 

Constant fidgeting. What was I supposed to do? Glancing at the phone, I see that it’s now ten pm. Something was not right. With nothing else to do. I called his number again. 

It rang, no answer. It went to voicemail. “Yoongi where are you?” It was only the same exact thing I had been leaving in his messages before. It’s just that I knew he was having a rough time and I didn’t want to guilt-trip him. At this point though… “You’re worrying me and the others. Please just let us know you’re okay.” 

I hung up, wondering if he was even receiving them. Damnit. I threw my phone over on the side, it was only making it worse. Maybe I could just go to sleep? But then if something was really wrong… What if I wasn’t there when he needed me? What if...

With the click of the door opening and closing slowly I flipped my head down the hall. I swallowed, stunned at the sight of Yoongi. Who else would it be?

He was hunched over, hood over his head. A shadowed form in the single yellow light of the hall. My body found itself immediately at his side, scanning over him for any sign of injuries. What had happened? Why was he gone so long? Except I didn’t really know how to start the conversation with him. He just stood there, dropping his bag off by the door, sliding off his shoes. Silent. 

“Yoongi…” There was something. Something keeping him from talking to me. Something keeping me from really talking to him. It just felt wrong to ask. Because I already knew. Knew that he was struggling. I often tried to get him to open up to me. But he always did it in his own time. Over the course of our relationship, I had learned to let him come to me when he was ready. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, and I barely heard him, his face hidden away under a cap. 

I shook my head trying to lift his chin to me, but he didn’t budge. “Yoongi why didn’t you answer my calls?” I bit my lip, obviously, he didn’t want to talk that’s why.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I…” his hands clenched at the zipper of his coat. My mind was spinning. I didn’t know what to say to him. I wanted to be careful. I didn’t know where to start. 

“It’s okay…” I hummed, thinking. “What happened?” 

He swallowed, still not looking up at me, head hanging low. His thumb traced over the corner of the zipper sow. No response. Okay. That’s okay. My hand reached, outstretched, and offered for him to take it. 

His hand trembling, tentatively took hold of it. It was cold. It was cold outside after all. “Are you hurt?” Internally I rolled my eyes. Of course, he was hurt. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a physical injury. He shook his head. “Okay.” I smiled a little, squeezing his hand softly. 

“Kei…” He sighed, unable to say anything more than my name. 

Although he wasn’t giving me much to respond to I wanted to assure him that it would all be okay. That he would be okay. “It’s okay…” I repeated, pulling him by his hand into an embrace. He didn’t put up any fight, his weight falling over my shoulders as I pulled him close. “You can…” My sentence was immediately cut short by the muffled sound of his sobs into the fabric at my collarbone. My heart instantly broke. His soft sobs heightening to weeping, his arms squeezing me closer and closer. His fingers clung to my back, my shirt soon soaked. 

I too held him closer, rubbing softly at his nape. He didn’t let up, it was likely that he needed it. It had been coming a long time. But I wish he knew that it was okay to have come to me before. I was always here for him, and so were the others. 

Something had released in him, and even after the sobs turned into lone tears he hadn’t moved from my shoulder. And although my feet were beginning to ache from standing there for so long, I didn’t mind staying there for him. 

“Kei I’m so sorry.” He eventually whispered, his breaths still evening out. 

“Yoongi it’s okay.” I pressed against his cheek to lift his face up to where I could see. “What happened?” My eyes stayed softened, hoping that he knew I wasn’t mad. Why would I be? I was just worried. So I told him just that. “I was just worried about you, but you’re safe here.”

He sniffled, rubbing his fingers against his dampened eyes, lashes clinging together. “I just…” His face contorted once more and he shook his head. I remained, holding his hand and soothing the words out. “I had an awful day.” He shrugged, almost giving a halfhearted laugh. “I thought maybe because it was my birthday I could ignore the pent-up shit.” He shook his head clearing his throat. 

I nodded to show I was listening. He continued, “I thought that vlive would help.” He frowned, “and it did, but I was so busy I couldn’t stay on long, and…” he was starting to ramble. “And then after work, I just wanted to think for a little bit I had my phone shut off and it only made it worse. And then I realized that you were waiting for me and I felt like such a dick.” For the first time that night, he made eye contact, tears dripping down his cheeks. “And I really was a dick.” He cried, pulling me back into his arms. 

“Yoongi…” “I love you.” He squeezed tighter. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yoongi babe, seriously I know.” I kissed his neck where I was able to reach. “You don’t have to apologize. I just want you to tell me these things before you disappear. Yeah?” He nodded. “I want you to be safe…” it sounded silly, after all, he wasn’t a child. But bad things can happen to anyone. 

He hummed in response keeping me in his clutches, “Can we stay like this?” He asked quietly, and I nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“You must be tired though Yoons,” I pushed him off softly, “Why don’t we go to bed?” He took a shaky breath and nodded in agreement. He slid his jacket off and set it aside. I wanted to ask him more questions but I didn't want to pry. But had he cried while he was driving? I hoped not, hoped he hadn’t been alone either. 

We walked back together, me picking up my phone on the way back. I texted Joon, knowing that by now he’d probably be worried too. Yoongi looks around, “You didn’t do anything for me right?” He seemed to be more worried that he had missed it rather than him not wanting anything. 

I shrugged, “Dinner, but you can have it tomorrow.” He frowned as we left the living room and into the bedroom. “Do you want to open your gift now?” I whisper, looking at the box wrapped up. There were oil paints and special brushes. I remembered he wanted to experiment with them. 

“Mhm, yeah.” He sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his cap, hair falling over his forehead. His eyes were swollen, maybe I could get him a cold spoon. 

He took the box gently, sliding the silver ribbon away, and picking up the lid. I couldn’t help but smile, as he looked down on the tubes. 

His lip twitched, and he set the box to the side, holding out his hand to mine. He kept his eyes on the ground as he pulled me in by my hand, hugging me close all over again. “Thank you.” 

I pet the top of his head, with a soft smile, “Do you like them?” 

He shook his head into my neck. “Of course I do.” His breath was hot on my skin, and his body shook into another bout of tears. Pursing my lips, I leaned into him. 

Lightly teasing, “Well who would have thought paint could move you to tears.” I kissed the top of his head, and he continued crying. I knew he didn’t let it all out by the door. I was stuck standing again, caressing his back, soothing him until he calmed once more. 

“I love you.” He sighed, burying his face into his hands. 

My fingers brushed his hair back. “I love you too.” I finally sat down next to him, both of us lying back onto the bed. My eyes found his and my thumb brushed his cheek. “You can tell me all about it.” I wipe away a stray tear, “Or not, whatever you feel comfortable.” 

He let out a hum, pulling me into his chest, much warmer now after all the previous embraces. “Okay.”

Like this? This is a drabble from my A Year of Fics with Han series found here

[undyingskies]

Remember The Mornings Pt. 2

request: no 

A/N: This felt so self indulgent, but I love it and loved writing it. Part one was also self indulgent so I guess this whole story is just me wanting to hurt my own heart and put it back together. I really hope you you guys enjoy! xoxo

warnings: no 

 here is part one for you!

tagged: @mah-gah-lee

____________________________________

Before you were able to get the door closed, Owen has his hand sprawled out against the front of your door, not letting it close.

You step back a little from the door, your grip on your blanket tightening. The feeling of Owen’s eyes on you making you feel bare, it seemed like no matter how tightly you pull the blanket against your body you couldn’t escape from his gaze.

The both of you just stand in the silence, you not wanting to start this conversation and Owen not knowing where to go since his last confession.

Another gush of wind blows past Owen and into your house. The two of you shiver in sync, both of you becoming well aware of the rain that’s falling and the 30 degree weather.

The sight of Owen breaking your heart, the water from his hair starting to drip off of the ends of it. You watch as he pulls on his jacket trying to get it closer to his body, trying to keep the heat in.

“Why don’t you come in?” You sigh, opening the door wider to let Owen walk in.

He looks at the ground and then up at you, shocked at the invitation. Owen nods his head yes, walking in fast not wanting you to change your mind and miss his opportunity.

You close your front door and follow Owen’s lead into your living room. The two of you sit at opposite ends of your couch. The silence is overwhelming, the only sound comes from the rain falling onto the windows.

Something that was once calming isn’t so much anymore.

Your eyes focus on the tied ends of your blanket, you catch yourself toying with the ends, letting the pieces of it fall between your fingers. You feel his eyes on you the entire time, something that you were once used too but now it makes you feel insecure almost.

“So?” Owen is the first to break the awkward silence.

You don’t say anything, afraid of your own words and what would come out. You didn’t trust your  voice.

Silence falls over the two of you yet again that night. Neither of you fully comfortable in this situation, a feeling that neither of you were used to around each other.

That’s when Owen opens his mouth again, uttering the words for the second time tonight that you were so desperate to here for so long.

“You’re all that I want Y/N.” He says, scooting a little closer to your side of the couch. “You’ve always been all that I wanted. It scared me...” He trails off trying to collect his never ending thoughts of you. He wants to prove to you just how much you do mean to him.

“It scared me so much Y/N. I never expected to be 20 years old with the love of my life. I never expected being this young and being with the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.” Once the words start flowing from him, he can’t seem to stop. “I expected that I would wake up and my love for you wouldn’t still be growing, yet I woke up every single day more and more in love with you.”

After each sentence that slips from his lips he scoots closer to you, wanting the distance between the two of you to disappear.

“I panicked. I panicked and pushed you away out of fear for these big and real feelings for you. It wasn’t right.” Just one more push of his body and he would be right next to you.

Just one more push and your walls would be broken down. Your head facing down looking at your lap, not wanting to let Owen see the tears that are escaping your eyes.

But what you were doing was cheating yourself of seeing the emotions pouring out of him. How his whole face was showing how much he cares, how his own eyes were welling with tears at seeing the pain he has caused you.

“I just can’t stop thinking how am I supposed to live not knowing that if we gave this another chance that it wouldn’t end up like this.”

At his last confession his body is next to yours. He has his hand moving underneath your chin to pull your face up, forcing the eye contact you were so desperately trying to avoid.

“I kept hoping you would change.” The words escape your lips before your mind can catch up with your mouth.

Yet you continue.

“I keep hoping that you will change, so that it’s not a mistake if we go back to the start.”

You let the confession leave you, one that you were holding onto this whole last week. All you could think about was the chance that if he changed, if he let you back in, that the two of you could start all over forgetting all of this mess that plagued your relationship these last few months.

“Y/N,” Owen begins, his hand dropping from your chin, trailing down your arm to reach its destination at your hand to entangle your fingers together. “I have loved you from the day we met. The me you that you loved, well I hope still love.” He chuckles lightly at his own small joke. “Hasn’t changed from that person. But what has changed is the fear that I had, I’m not going to let it rule the way I live anymore or the way that I show you I love you.”

Tears leave the both of your eyes. The love the two of you had for each other had never disappeared. Owen’s was just overshadowed by his fear.

You reach out to wipe the tears that had escaped from his eyes off his cheek. He leans his head into the palm of your hand, enjoying the warmth it brings him.

“I don’t want to fix this just to have it break.” The honest truth coming from you. You didn’t want to fix the relationship just to have it end and deal with this heart break again.

“Y/N, I promise you that if we fix this, we fix us, that it will not break. We were strong, we will fix this and come back from it stronger.” Owen let’s his hands leave yours to make their way up to cup both of your cheeks.

This time he is the one to wipe his thumbs across your cheeks, gathering your tears on them.

He smiles softly at you, his love for you overflowing from him.

“I just, I don’t know O.” Your voice quivering, you just weren’t sure. “I just don’t want to feel like this again.”

You let your eyes fall from Owen’s to look down at  your shaking hands.

“Y/N, look at me.” Owen says seriously, his hands on your cheeks just moving slightly to get you to look back up at him. “Remember the mornings, our mornings together. That happiness and love that we both felt.”

“That is what we will be going back too, none of this. None of what our last few months were filled with. We’re going back to those times.” He tells you. The passion in his eyes and his tone convincing you.

You knew you loved him with your whole heart and nothing would change that. His words and actions now proving to you that he felt that same way.

You just shake your head yes. The first time in months you weren’t crying from anger, frustration, or sadness. They were happy tears. A smile graces you face for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I love you Y/N and I am so sorry for the way I acted these last few months.” Owen says to you.

Your quick to pull him into a hug, the both of your bodies melting into each other. It finally felt like the two of you could breath again. You needed each other.

“I love you too O.”

At your words Owen is pulling back from the hug to look you in the eyes. The biggest smile on Owen’s face.

Those were the words he was dying to hear. The words that he needed to here.

In a blink of an eye, he has his lips on yours and they’re moving together in sync. The love and passion from the both of you being poured into this kiss.

Your lungs start burning from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t want this kiss to end. You pull away reluctantly, the both of you breathing heavily.

Large smiles covering both of your faces, neither of you pulling away from contact of each other.

The two of you had been craving moments like this for the last week. Owen felt like home to you, his touch and presence were like calming waves to you, his voice was the best music to your ears.

Everything you felt for Owen, he felt back about you. You were his home, at the end of any day, any long crazy filming period, days full of anxiety, just any bad or unpleasant day, Owen wanted you. You calmed him, you brought him peace.

Your laugh and joy were contagious, he could never feel anything but joy when he was with you.

“Now, where should we start?” You ask Owen, matching smiles on both of your faces.

“I think we should start right here.” Owen says. “Now give me some of that blanket and let me cuddle you damn it.”

The both of you laughing at his words, the happiness flowing through both of you.

You move to let Owen under the blanket, his body and skin finally coming in contact with yours.

Sighs of relief leaving the both of you.

“I love you so much Y/N.” Owen says leaning up to leave soft kisses on your neck, causing you to giggle.

“I love you too O, so much.” You say, leaning down to catch his wondering lips.

Another kiss full of love and passion. The two of you settle into each other and the couch. Your limbs entangled in one another, not knowing where either of you started or ended.

You spend the rest of the night cuddled up on the couch, talking and enjoying each other’s presence. You fell asleep that night holding each other, happy and in love.

The love the two of you had for each other was real and overwhelming. It wasn’t always easy but neither of you would change one thing about it.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH2

The feeeeeeels have only just begun! I think this Remix is going to pack a bigger emotional punch than the original, but the payoff will be so, so sweet. :)

As always, I am only sharing these here on this blog for you guys until like June when we reach chapter 21, so I need all of your love and support in the likes, comments, reblogs, tags, everywhere. Give me your feelings. I am fed by your keyboard smashes and emojis,

---

Previous  Next   AO3

Chapter 2: The Archer

Marinette froze on the sidewalk, scrambling to process what was happening. She closed her jaw and shifted her weight to mask her unease. Of course, she’d expected her friends to question her decision, but seeing Adrien outside the bakery door still came as a surprise. If there was anyone from her old school she was hoping to avoid, it was him. Alya she could handle, but she couldn’t bear to hear Adrien say how disappointed he was in her.

“I, uh…I have a lot of homework to catch up on and-” Her voice trailed off at his pained expression, and she tapped her feet hesitantly for a moment before sighing. She had never been good at resisting him. “Okay, you can come in.”

Adrien followed her up to the apartment silently, gaze fixed ahead. Marinette could only imagine what he was thinking. How could she do this? Why didn’t she tell anyone? Marinette avoided eye contact with him for fear of what she might see.

“Can I make you some tea?” She offered, setting her bag on the stairs.

“Sure.”

Perfect. Tea was a good excuse not to look at him, and she kept her back to him while she worked, pretending that she didn’t know where things were to stall for time. She was hyper-aware of his eyes on her, following her every move. Watching. Waiting. She couldn’t keep this up forever, so she might as well get it over with.

“So, what’s up?” she asked while she filled the kettle.

“Marinette.”

“Do you like sugar in your tea?”

“Marinette.”

“I think we have some honey around here somewhere…”

“Marinette.”

“Preference on cup color?”

“Marinette.”

She pressed her lips into a line, tapping her nail on the counter before turning around to face him. “I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “‘Why did you leave? How could you do this? I thought we were friends. Why didn’t you tell us?’ Look, I know, okay?”

Adrien waited for her to finish, expression grave, though he didn’t look disappointed or angry. No, there was something else in his expression, those green eyes clouded and hazy. Sad, she realized. Adrien’s eyes were full of sadness and worry, and honestly, she would have preferred disappointment. If he was disappointed, she could defend her decision, but sad only made her guilt worse. She would rather Adrien forget her entirely than look at her with those big sad eyes.

Marinette flinched when he took a step toward her, hands shaking at her sides until Adrien reached out to place his hands on her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Tears bubbled in the corners of her eyes. “Don’t you want to know why I left without saying goodbye?”

“Because you’re hurting.” He trailed his thumb across her cheek to catch a tear. “No one believed you about Lila, and you felt like your friends were shunning you, so you left because you were hurt. How could I be mad at you?”

“I’m not just hurt…” Marinette shook her head. “I’m angry and heartbroken and frustrated and-” Her vision blurred, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Adrien pulled her against his chest. Burying her face in his shoulder, she let all of her pain overflow.

A week ago, she would have killed for him to hold her like this, but the numbness weighing down her heart left no room for happiness. All of the color had been drained from her life from the friends she left behind right down to the clothes on her back. Everything was gray and dark. Even Adrien couldn’t bring light back to her world now.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” he whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not!” She shook her head, sniffling noisily.

Adrien brushed another tear from her cheek. “I told you not to confront Lila, but I didn’t know you felt that strongly. If I hadn’t stopped you, then you wouldn’t have left,” he said. “I just didn’t want to cause conflict, and I hoped that Lila could be reasoned with if we could just get through to her, but…”

“There’s something else I should tell you,” Marinette said. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone because I didn’t think they’d believe me, but you already know the truth, so…”

The screech of the kettle interrupted before she could speak. She turned to tend to it, rubbing at her nose. Her hands shook as she poured, so Adrien placed his hands over hers to help her hold it steady. She’d almost forgotten how kind he was. At least this part of her old life wasn’t entirely lost. This precious, beautiful part.

“Talk to me,” Adrien said once they sat on the couch, and Marinette took a deep breath.

“I don’t think that there is a way to get through to Lila,” she said, voice hoarse as she swirled her index finger around the rim of her cup. “The day she came back to school, she came up to me in the bathroom and tried to manipulate me just like everyone else, and when I called her out on it, she turned on me in an instant. She told me that I was either with her or against her, and that if I didn’t play along, then she was going to turn everyone against me.”

“She said that?” Adrien gasped, and Marinette nodded, biting her lip.

“That’s not all,” she continued. “After she left, I was crying in the stall, and…an akuma came—the one that ended up turning her into Chameleon. It was meant for me.”

“Marinette…” He shifted closer to wrap an arm around her. “I had no idea.”

“I fought it off.” She shrugged, sipping her tea. “I’ve always been good at finding the silver lining, but with Lila…”

“Well, that would explain a lot about today then,” Adrien sighed. “She told everyone in class that you didn’t say goodbye because you don’t care about us and that you just wanted attention.”

“And let me guess, everyone in the class believed her?” Marinette grunted, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t think people know what to believe, but it made me sick to hear her say those things about you because I know they’re not true, and I think deep down everyone else does too.” He shifted his gaze down to his lap. “I should have said something, but…I guess I’m just a coward. You must think I’m a pretty bad friend.”

“I don’t think that!” she insisted. “You came over because you knew I was upset which is more than I can say about anyone else.”

“What do you think we should do?” he asked. “I still don’t think outright exposing her is the way to go.”

“No, she’s too crafty. She’ll just lie her way out of it.” Marinette affirmed with a disgusted scowl. “Honestly, I don’t think there is anything we can do to her without backlash. It’s our word against hers.”

“Yeah…” Adrien shifted with a guilty grimace. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How did you figure out that Lila was lying?” He glanced up to meet her gaze.

Marinette pursed her lips, debating how much truth to reveal to him. She supposed that lying wouldn’t be ideal in this situation, but she couldn’t exactly tell him everything. Sighing, she set her teacup down on the coffee table and turned to face him head-on.

“You’re probably not gonna like it,” she said, “but I’ll tell you.” She paused for a moment to draw in a breath before continuing. “The first day that Lila came to school, everyone was so impressed with everything she was saying, but the more stories I heard, the more suspicious I got. Everything seemed too amazing, then I saw her talking to you, and… I got concerned, so I followed you two—mostly Lila! I watched her buy that necklace at the store dump your father’s book in the trash, and I heard everything when Ladybug showed up, and so yeah.”

“You really followed us?” He quirked a brow. “So, you know how I know then.”

“Yeah…” She clasped her hands together in her lap and tapped her index fingers together. “I didn’t trust her, and I was worried about you.”

A smile curled on his lips, and he tilted her chin to look at him. “You’re always looking out for your friends,” he said. “I’m really sorry that everyone else sided against you. For what it’s worth, I prefer your company to Lila’s any day.”

She smiled at that. “Thank you, Adrien.”

“I wish you hadn’t left, but I understand why you did,” he said, “I’d never ask you to come back somewhere where you felt victimized, but I am going to miss seeing you every day.”

“You can come by any time you like.” Marinette offered. “You’re my friend, Adrien, and just because I changed schools doesn’t mean that has to stop.”

“You’re right.” He took her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Promise me you’ll keep in touch?”

“Oh, I will,” she said. “One of my new friends is a big fan of yours.”

“I’d love to meet them, and if ever you need me, I’ll always be here for you,” he assured her.

Marinette relaxed at the sentiment before letting out a deep breath.

“I guess we just have to hope that Lila lies herself into a corner,” she said.

“She will, eventually. Then everyone will see her for who she truly is,” Adrien said. “Liars only hurt themselves in the end.”

“Yeah…” Marinette pursed her lips, then taking a chance said, “Well, if you’re free for a while… we could do our homework together. It’ll take our minds off of everything.”

“That sounds nice, and you can tell me about your new school.” He perked up.

The tension in the room faded, but before they could move, Marinette’s dad burst through the front door. “I brought up some fresh baked cookies for you two.” He announced, setting the plate on the coffee table.

“Thanks, Papa.” Marinette stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Adrien and I are gonna do our homework.”

“I won’t get in your way then,” her dad said. He brushed her cheek with his finger. “I can’t wait to hear all about your first day tonight. Your mother and I will be down in the bakery if you two need anything.”

“Thanks, Mr. Dupain,” Adrien said politely. When her dad retreated back to the bakery, he added, “Your parents are nice. I can see where you get it from,” he said sincerely. “You’re always doing your best to help others without ever asking for anything in return. I’ve always really admired that about you, Marinette. The world could use more people like you.”

Marinette covered her face with her hands, cheeks hot with embarrassment. She wasn’t prepared for such compliments today, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t cheer her up.

He chuckled, pulling her hands away from her face. “I’m happy we’re friends, Marinette, and if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

The golden glow of the setting sun through the window illuminated his face, and for one fleeting moment, all of the colors she once loved flashed in his eyes. For the first time since making her decision, Marinette felt like everything would be okay.

She gave his hands a squeeze and offered him a shy smile. “Thank you, Adrien. For everything.”

♪♫♪ Haunted ♪♫♪

Alya stuffed her books into her bag, lacking her usual enthusiasm. Nothing in her world seemed right that day. Every time she glanced over at Marinette’s empty seat, her chest tightened. Now as she stood in front of her locker, staring at old pictures hanging inside, Lila’s words echoed in her mind.

“Maybe she wasn’t really your friend after all.”

That couldn’t be true. Marinette was her best friend. They told each other everything.

“If she really cared about you, she would have told you she was leaving.”

There had to be an explanation, but Alya couldn’t think of one.

“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you thought you did.”

True, Marinette was always running late and coming up with excuses, but Alya always thought she was just scatter-brained. Maybe Lila was right, and Marinette was hiding something from all of them. Maybe all she wanted was attention. The only people Marinette ever clashed with were Chloe and Lila—two people who got tons of attention from everyone. Not to mention she was always strangely possessive of Adrien…

Alya shook her head to clear it, but her doubts remained, questioning everything about her friendship with Marinette. What was real, and what wasn’t? Everything she thought she knew had been turned on its head so quickly that she didn’t have time to get her bearings. Marinette was gone, and from the looks of it, she wasn’t coming back to offer any explanations.

The photos of the two of them smiled back at Alya, and the pressure in her chest returned as angry tears bubbled in her eyes. How could she leave without saying goodbye? Didn’t their friendship mean anything to her?

With a growl, Alya reached inside and ripped the photos out, tearing them to shreds as she sank to her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the last picture as tears rolled down her cheeks. Lost in her anguish, she didn’t notice the black butterfly hovering over her until it touched the edge of the photo, and a familiar voice sounded in her head.

“Hello, again.”