#(they literally told Jade what they tell everyone: go make a name for yourself and come back. you know what she did? she signed to AEW)
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Unspoken Words.
I’m trying out a new format for my posts so don’t mind me~
Summary- When Azul focuses too much on work than you, it doesn’t go well. Will he chose work or his significant other..?
Tw: Reader being sad, Azul crying, yes there’s a fucking child
Tags: Gn Reader x Azul Ashengrotto, Gn reader, Yes you are the prefect, Azul being a silly himbo/hj, happy ending, gn child, you can imagine yourself with the kid being biological or adopted, whatever you choose
Enjoy you poor unfortunate souls…
“Azul?” You called out into his study looking for your love
“I am very busy right now. What do you want?” He said, not looking up from his contracts
“They’re…they’re in bed, you don’t need to worry about them but, when will you come to bed?”
He voice displays no emotion as he continues on working
“Not right now. Later.”
You bite your lip and grip the door handle tighter. You wanted him to come back to sleep by your side. But work always was first place in his life rather than anyone or anything else.
“Azul…I…” You look up with a tiny piece of hope that he would look at you but to no avail. “Nevermind…I love you Azzy…” You don’t hear a response back but rather a pen scratching the paper.
Sighing softly, you head to the cold room hurt.
You lie down on the bed, underneath the blankets but yet, you’re still cold.
Taking your pillow, you hold it and just let your tears leak down.
Azul was a smart man. Yes, he overblotted because of various things…but he’s a smart man.
He managed to get his business far and profitable. He’s successful. The Maestro cafe being much further than he’d ever imagined.
Azul has a family and a successful life…
Yes, his family wants to spend time with him but he’s trying to keep everything together so he can grow his business and provide for them.
But…he doesn’t know why his heart feels like it’s yearning for something…
Like he’s doing something wrong, but what is it?
He ends up dozing off in the end.
“Daddy.”
Jade, Floyd, Azul and you are startled by the small child that just walked into Maestro cafe and hugged Floyd’s leg
“Floyd?! We literally took a class in biology to use prote-“
“Let’s not say that in front of the kid!” You cut Azul off
He picks up the child, expecting them to cry
“Ooh~! I could squeeze you to death little guppy!”
“Floyd! You’re going to scare-“
Instead of crying or screaming, the guppy laughs and puts their hands on Floyd’s cheeks
You put the cleaning cloth into the back of your pocket while you and Jade laugh at both of them
“Aww~! Can we keep it Jade? Azul?”
“I think we should since we need more helpers~”
“Cut it out you two, we don’t even know who’s it is!”
“You shouldn’t call a child an it…” You told your friend
Once the youngest hears you speak, they look at you and make grabby hands
And then they call out to you using their name for you
And everyone looks absolutely shocked
“I’m sorry, what.”
“Little shrimpy has a guppy?!”
“Oh great seven, you didn’t tell us this~”
Floyd happily hands the child to you and instantly, they laugh in your arms
“This baby isn’t mine! I swear on my life you three!”
And the twins start to draw closer to you as Azul looks terrified in the back
Until—
“Papa!” The 5 year old reaches to touch Jade’s cheeks
“Jade, Floyd, [Name]! Did you three have one child altogether or something behind my back?!”
“No!” “Perhaps!”
And it happens all over again…
When you four tell Crowley about it, he tells you to deal with it yourself in a paraphrased term until the baby bit his arm
He then says to keep it in Ramshackle or Octavinelle, which to keep Grim from complaining or arguing with the child, you all decided to keep them in Octavinelle
When you asked Lilia about it, he said that the baby was somehow sent to the past and that he was able to get it back at the end of the week
You silently celebrated in your confusion towards the young child. It was Monday so you only had to last until Sunday! Good enough!
After your shift at Maestro cafe, you always went to the vip room with Azul and Jade to see Floyd hanging out with the child
Strangely enough, they didn’t seem to want to play with Azul very much. Going as far as clinging onto one of the Tweel’s or yours arm instead and a frustrated Azul not knowing what he did wrong, rereading contracts
In the middle of the week, you’re busy doing something with the rest of the first years and the twins have to make up a test so it’s just Azul and the small child that for some reason, did not like him.
The child sits far away coloring with crayons, quiet, not trying to bother him to play with them. Like…it’s some sort of burden.
Azul wonders as he writes on another contract what he did wrong
And he finally gets his guts together
Rolling up the paper, he sets it aside and moves closer to the child
“What are you drawing?”
“…My family.” They say quietly, unlike the boisterous yelling they do with the others
“May I take a look?”
“Y’never look when I wan’ you to.”
That perks Azul’s attention up
“Do you know me in the future?”
The child nods hesitantly
“You…you’re my real papa. Y’don’t like me very much though.”
Azul’s eyes widen
“I-I’m y-your father?”
“Yeah…” They stop their drawing and slides it to Azul’s side
There was them in the middle of you and the Tweels. Azul being on the other side of the paper.
“[Child’s Name]…May I ask you why ‘I don’t like you’ in your time and why I’m far away even when I’m your father?”
“Y’don’t play with me. You don’t eat with me n’ [Nickname] at the table, you…you always in your study room working on…c-cont-racts.”
A sniffle comes from the child
“I see Jadey and Flo around more than you…I can see [Nickname] being sad cause y’not there. You..you only care ‘bout work.”
Oh and how Azul’s heart shatters hearing about this. He does get with his crush and have a family, but he took it for granted. Future him took his happy family for granted. The route he’s going now, only focusing on his own profit, will only cause pain.
He cusses in his head.
“No, no, I don’t care about work. Not now.” Azul moves to the child’s side, picking them up into his arms and hugging them tightly
“I don’t know what happened in the future but, I would love you. No matter what. Future me is quite silly so do not believe in him.”
“You…you really wanna be my daddy?”
“I don’t ‘wanna’ be, I am your father. I shouldn’t have taken that for granted. To have a cute mini octopus like you in my life as well as your [Nickname] makes me feel happy. I don’t know what will happen once you get sent back but for the rest of this week, I will give you everything.”
“Pinky promise?” Azul rubs the tears away with a handkerchief as they point their pinky out. He smiles happily
“Pinky promise.” He clasps their pinkys together
After they finish crying, they turn over to the table and scratches the former paper with a black crayon before getting a new one
“Oh? Why did you do that?”
“Daddy wants to be with me! I wanna remake it now!”
“Can I draw with you then?”
“Yeah!”
Needless to say when the three of you rushed over to the vip room expecting the baby to cry or be alone, you all are surprised seeing a Azul with them in his lap, both drawing while having a conversation.
What’s more surprising?
The soft expression Azul has on his face.
Your heart beats a bit faster as adoration pops up in your chest.
Lilia had told you all that after he sent them back, that everyone would lose their memories. With that, Azul used that to his advantage and told you three who the child really belonged to.
The Tweels spent an hour teasing you and Azul about it
When it’s time to say goodbye, Lilia is busy reading the spell while the child hugs the twins tightly
“Bye bye Jadey! Bye bye Flo!”
“Wahh…does guppy have to go…?”
“Unless you want a time paradox or something, yeah they do.” Lilia pats both of twins on the back
Fortunately for you and Azul who were watching in the back, the twins backed off and gave you a moment’s peace with your the child.
“[Nickname]! Papa!” They come up and you both kneel down to reciprocate their embrace
Your eyes lock with Azul’s and for a split second he sees you in a wedding outfit. Your left hand which was laying on top of the guppy’s head was adorned with two rings.
He blinks and sees you in the normal school uniform but can’t help but smile happily at his future family.
“Remember our promise. Ok?” He tells them once you three part
The smaller nods excitedly before standing in front of a waiting Lilia
And thus, he casts the spell. The spell replaces everyone’s memories with what should’ve happened without the child
And they start to progress again…
Azul wakes up, flinching
He doesn’t know how but he woke up from this…strange dream.
Did…did he really only focus on work?
He thinks back to the past few months and his face retorts in horror of the realization
He has. He needs to make it up to his family before it’s too late.
Azul rushes out of his study to the bedroom to see you asleep with puffy eyes
He leaps on the bed, shaking you in near tears
“H-huh? Azul…? What is it? Do you need something—“
He cuts you off with a hug that pins you back to the bed
“Azzy?! Wha-what’s wrong?!”
“Please forgive me. I’ve been a terrible husband and father recently. Focusing o-only on work, how silly of me to lose sight of what I truly love.” His arms tighten around you
“Azul…can’t breathe…”
Azul quickly pulls off of and sits up anxiously. Waiting for you to say you don’t forgive him or divorce him but what comes next is nothing but a soft kiss to his lips.
“I’m just happy that you finally realized it. I was so scared I lost you. But just to note, I’ll kick your ass if you do this again.” You whisper in his ear as you hug him tightly
“I’ll take that anytime.” He then sneaks under the blanket with you and held you throughout the night, whispering to you that he would never leave you again.
In the morning, he asks the twins to take over for him today. They happily agreed, cheering over the phone. Seems like they noticed his change in behavior too.
He chuckles to himself before he feels your presence next to him, rubbing your head into his shoulder.
“It’s rare you cook.”
“I plan on doing this more. Haven’t done this for you two in a long time.”
You laugh and kiss him before you both hear small footsteps in the hallway
“[Nickname], I have brushed m’ teeth by myself!” They stand proud before their shock is evident on their face at Azul’s presence
“Hi little guppy,” You pat them on their head as they look at Azul with hesitation “Good job on brushing your teeth all on your own! Papa is off work today so he can spend time with us. Wanna say hi?”
You look at him and his expression is bitter at how he left you two alone. He catches your glance and sees how you just tell him to try.
He walks towards his kid as you watch the stovetop.
Kneeling down, he held the smaller hands in his.
“I…I haven’t been a good father for you my dear fry. I’m so sorry for that. To pay attention to my work more than my own family was a huge mistake. I wish to make it up to you in any way no matter how long it takes. I’ll look at your drawings, play with your toys, cook your favorite thing. I love you so much. I am so, so sorry.” He looks down sadly as he tells him
“Nuh-uh! You’re my daddy. You are my papa! You said sorry and you wanna color with me! I like that. Jadey and Flo took care of me but you’re my favorite! I love you too!” The child grins brightly at him and Azul wells up in tears again, hugging the small child’s frame tightly.
And a whisper came from them
“You kept our promise. I’m happy.” And they rush off to the table once you call for them to wash their hands and eat.
The whispered phrase nudges at him
‘Was it…truly a dream or did we both experience that…?”
My dumbass kept thinking about how this sounds like The Christmas Carol wayyy too much. Anyways best Christmas movie 10/10, fight me. @demon-lover-669 thank you for the prompt. That was delicious.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#azul ashengrotto x yuu#azul ashengrotto x mc#Azul ashengrotto x male reader#Azul ashengrotto x female reader#Azul ashengrotto x gn reader#angst#hurt/comfort#happy ending#minniemoots#mindlessclow#x reader#gn reader#twisted wonderland x female reader#twisted wonderland x male reader#twisted wonderland x gn reader
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For Sake of a Smile (V.2) Prelude
Title: For Sake of a Smile (Revised)
Overall Rating: Mature (18+)
Chapter Rating: E for Everyone
Trigger warnings: Nothing beyond the child abuse hinted in the series, though we do explore the consequences a bit more.
Main Pairing: Balam Shichiro/Reader
Summary: Hell on earth was your motto for your job. Granted, you were pretty sure earth really was hell, considering the shit you had seen in your life. And the fact your coworker was a child.
A child named Suzuki Iruma, in fact. A kid who’s life was decidedly worse than yours, but yet he smiled despite everything. It wasn’t long after meeting him that you decided you’d do a lot for his smile. Including summoning a literal demon and signing your soul away.
But as it turns out, hell (The Netherworld, actually) was a lot better than living on earth. Demons were more humane than a lot of humans you knew.
And Iruma’s smile wasn’t the only one that would change your life.
Masterlist | Ao3| Mairimashitai! Simps Discord
If anyone asked what led you to this insanity, your answer would ultimately be Iruma's smile.
At the time, the boy had been thirteen, looked like he was eight, and worked as hard as you; washing, descaling, and gutting fish that weighed about as much as he did. You had known the company was shady as fuck, but they paid rather well for both your silence and turning a blind eye. And considering you had just started out on your own with no work experience, no higher-education, and no funds, money was really all you cared about.
And then suddenly one day you had this kid working at your station, doing his best to meet the quota despite the fact he was so tiny and so young. And he did it all with a smile on his face.
Over the course of several months, Iruma told you such horrors with that innocent smile still in place. As if he was recounting to you his summer break and not his life story of being used and manipulated.
You became a mother hen within just a few days. You couldn't steal him away and give him the life he deserved, but you could do your damnedest to make sure his life was as good as the circumstances permitted.
You gave him part of your pay so he could buy food, since the entirety of his pay went to his parents with nothing but change left for his own needs. Nights were spent in your small apartment because as much as a dump as it was, it was better than the tent he tried to call home. You worked on teaching him as best you could considering the circumstances. You were a book worm, so your home was already piled with every kind of book you could get your hands on - but none were really helpful for an attempt to home school anyone. Let alone someone who hadn't been to a school more than just a few months sporadically across their young life.
Time passed and everyone that worked at the tuna processing plant called you Iruma's mother, or just a ‘mother-hen’. They meant it as derogatory most of the time - since they were too jaded to see Iruma the way you did - but you took it to heart instead. You may not be very threatening yourself, but you showed them how much of a mother-hen you were as you did your best to protect Iruma.
Over all, it wasn’t that much of a challenge; Iruma was a good kid with a sensible head on his shoulders. Yet some how, your hardest challenge was trying to tell him its okay to say no - that it was okay to put up boundaries, starting with coworkers that asked too much of him(with the hopes of someday you could convince him of what assholes his parents were).
When that fateful day came and the boss assigned him to go out on the trawler, you threw a fit screeching and swearing. You feared that him being out on that ship with a crew whose hearts were as cold as the locker they stored the tuna would only end in disaster.
But all to no avail. It turned out your boss had a similarly frozen heart.
"Don't worry, I'll be back soon!" Iruma reassured you with that bright smile of his. "It's a few months, but I promise, it'll be okay!"
It was not okay.
He didn't return with the fishing trawler when it came back to port a few months later. To make matters worse, everyone looked at you like you were insane for claiming that he went out on the ship to begin with.
"He was called home," Was the answer you got every time you talked to anyone about Iruma. Even if the question wasn't: ‘where did he go?’
“Do you remember Iruma?”
“He was called home.”
“Who was my station-mate for the last year?”
“He was called home.”
“How did he leave the fucking ship when it was in the middle of the ocean?!”
“He was called home.”
It was like they had been brainwashed, yet you had been untouched.
The insanity led you to search out the assholes that called themselves his parents. After all - if he was ‘called home’, they would know where he really was.
You expected some tweaky junkies, vagrants of the worst kind even though Iruma had said they were ‘nice’ and lived in a nice place, which was why he needed to help. But what other kind of people would loan out their child in such a way?
After doing some probably-illegal searching and spending all of your savings, you came upon one of the nicest homes you had ever seen; complete with a manicured garden surrounded by a gilded gate.
"Where's Iruma?" You demanded as soon as the door opened, uncaring about formalities at this point. Even if the people who answered the door looked nothing like you were expecting. Nice, well to do, but certainly looking like Iruma.
You screamed and swore your way to an honest answer as his parents tried to tell you unbelievable lies;
‘He’s abroad’,
‘He’s with a relative’
‘He’s at a boarding school.’
"We sold him to a demon!" The mother finally shouted, apparently frustrated by your persistence when you refused to accept their lies. "He's in hell!"
The answer dumbfounded you as you stared at her. Really? They thought you would believe that when you called bullshit on him suddenly leaving for a private school, but then couldn't agree on where it was or what it was named?
But then his father looked equally ashamed - and with horror, you realized it was the most truthful thing they had said.
"Show me."
They took you to their basement, where the summoning glyph was still painted onto the cement, surrounded by dozens of half-melted candles. They showed you the ancient scroll as well as the rough pronunciation guide for the spell. They explained that they had sold his soul for endless wealth and an easy life.
You were the one that decided to summon the demon called Sullivan.
#mairimashita! iruma kun#welcome to demon school iruma kun#balam shichiro#balam/reader#suzuki iruma#lord sullivan#For Sake of a Smile Fic
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fluff/relationships w the liyue crew
characters included: xiao, childe, beidou, and zhongli
ik i forgot ningguang i promise i’ll include her in part 2, i just didn’t have time :(
all x a gn! reader
my liyue babies :,) ft. ningguang in spirit
an: i was listening to my soft playlist (more like listening to cupid’s chokehold on repeat, no i am not basic 🔪) and i thought some fluff headcanons would be cute w these sweet people
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xiao
ok so no surprise that he hates liyue harbor
he hates anything w a lot of people in it so he prefers to stay at wangshu inn tyvm
but by contrast, you love liyue harbor sm (it’s gorgeous i mean c’mON)
you go there often to retrieve your commissions in order to stay closer to xiao (liyue harbor is closer than mondstadt he argues but you’re well aware that they’re both equally far away)
so if anyone asked, xiao would absolutely refuse to go to the harbor like i hate people??? why would you even ask???
but,,,he’s so sOFT for you
if you asked??? he would agree in a heartbeat
but since he’s >:( angsty boy, he makes you think that he won’t go even when he’s already decided that he’s coming w you
he puts up the “if you so require, then i guess i will assist you with your travels in liyue harbor” but in reality he would definitely have said yes even without the almond tofu
while he hates the harbor, he thinks that with you anything is bearable :,) simp
you take him to see xinyan to vibe w her music and you can tell he really enjoys it
even tho he’s like 🕴 the entire time, you see the softer look on his face and the very slight smile on his lips as he listens to the music and watches the crowd
so so so cute very soft for him
i do see him as a subtly touchy person in public like brushing the hair off your face, swiping his thumb across your cheek, or gently pulling your hair back when you have a plate of food in your hands
the type to link your pinkies together - he claims it’s so you don’t get lost but yk better
after the concert is done you take him to that one waypoint near mt. tianheng and the both of you just watch the city lights and the way they reflect beautifully on the water surrounding the harbor
personal headcanon that xiao absolutely loves stargazing since he believes the stars are the one true constant in his life especially since he’s experienced so much loss (basically they’ll never leave him god i hate myself why do i make everything SAD)
mini headcanon off of that - he doesn’t stargaze with people,,, like ever
it’s something he loves to do alone so the fact that he lets you stargaze w him and even allows you to shift your head onto his lap while you watch the sky is a huge deal
he loves it when you softly whisper abt how your day was or something you saw that made you laugh
he just loves hearing your voice, it automatically calms the voices in his head
you absolutely ADORE when he has flowers in his hair especially cecilias (cecillias? ceccillias? idfk) and you make a point whenever you go to mondstadt to pick a fresh batch of cecilias just for xiao while enlisting the help of your favorite bard
these soft moments on the mountain are usually when you’ll sweetly tuck in a flower or two in his hair while laughing
he’ll blush fiercely while looking away but will tuck the cecilias in securely as you’re unable to do so due to the position you’re in on his lap
all in all - this was not meant to come out as a date idea but we’re going w it
this is so cute xiao pls let me put flowers in your hair sweet boy <3
childe
god, loml, my favorite war criminal after eren yeager
there’s never a dull moment w this man - if you wanted peace and quiet, why the hell are you dating him bestie???
is the type of person to yell out “Y/N, i can’t believe i ran into you here!” if he sees you somewhere even tho you explicitly told him you were going to be here in the morning (ik you have a good memory ajax don’t lie to me 😐)
i don’t see him as being obnoxious w pda unlike someone else kaeya but he would definitely participate (think: handholding, cheek kisses, an arm around your shoulders)
loves it when he comes home and sees you in an apron cooking
domesticity just makes his heart melt so you can be sure that your face will be peppered w a lot of kisses afterwards <3
absolutely ADORES it when you trace his scars absentmindedly when you’re lying down or even when you’re having dinner in public
he’s been far from his family for so long that small acts of mindless affection like this really make his heart happy
you have him drunk on your love luv haha see what i did there
he will let you put makeup on him. no i do not take criticism ⛄️
he already has on lowkey thick eyeliner,,, don’t be shy put some more bestie
he will shamelessly go out in public w whatever you made him wear - doesn’t really give a shit even tho he has a reputation to maintain
speaking of reputation,,, yk his mask? yeah that one - the red hair accessory that he has on his head
well on the mask, he attached a little charm the both of you got together on your first date during lantern rite
it’s this adorable fox that we all shamelessly kill for meat and he placed it so it anchored to the side of his mask so when he fights it isn’t a nuisance or anything (does that make sense??? i hope it does)
his subordinates notice and while they’re stoic around childe, behind closed doors they do whisper abt the mysterious person who’s captured his heart
not so mysterious anymore when they literally see him cling onto you during his daily patrol around the harbor 💀
it’s ok tho he’s lucky he’s cute
bestie,,, pls give him a neck massage
i just KNOW he’s tense there idk something abt the way he carries himself just screams “my neck hurts so bad someone pls help me i would ask but my pride literally will not let me”
so give him a neck massage :) don’t worry tho he’ll definitely return the favor and then some
LOVES TICKLE FIGHTS
he’s obsessed w them,,, it’s just the faces you make??? he can’t get enough
he loves seeing the pure joy and the brief fear (he’s kind of a sadist) in your eyes before he attacks you w those damned hands
it reminds him a lot of simpler times w his siblings and he’s happy he brings you joy and makes you forget your worries - at least for a little while
all in all, he’s a good boy and no i will not tolerate childe slander 🔪 kaeya slander tho 😏
beidou
you pulled beidou??? wow everyone’s jealous (pulled as in literally from the banner and in this context but no i do not have beidou and no i definitely do not want to talk abt it)
god made beidou and zhongli just so all of us could have a sexuality crisis
anyways, being w her is hard i will not lie
not bc she isn’t a capable lover - no, quite the contrary
she’s an amazing partner but the problem here lies in the fact that she’s almost never on land
it’s hard working a long distance relationship but y’all love each other so it works out :,)
when she is physically present however, expect to never be bored
she’ll quietly fix the wrinkles on your shirt or fiddle with your fingers in her hands while she recounts her adventures out on sea
she sometimes gets worried she bores you, however the way your eyes light up every time she tells a tale always reassures her otherwise
definitely the type to let you use her claymore if you want to learn
she’ll provide useful tips as she tucks her hands into your sides gently, positioning you correctly so you don’t hurt yourself
miss girl is an AMAZING cook
i just know she cooks the best meals - i mean she’s friends w xiangling after all
whenever she comes home from a voyage she’ll always insist on making something for you even if she’s abt to pass out
pls tuck her into bed and promise her that she can make you something in the morning <3 the poor woman needs rest
brings you back trinkets but they’re actually very practical
she knows you won’t have much use for a simple charm (not that there’s anything wrong w that) but she believes you’ll like something practical more so she might get you a new engraved knife from the most recent place she’s been to
definitely the type to surprise you when she docks
i can imagine her anchoring her ship out a little ways from liyue harbor and rowing to the dock in order to make sure you aren’t alerted of her presence (i’m sorry the mental picture this made in my mind is SENDING ME INTO ORBIT but she means well i love you)
will take you to remote spots she’s found in her travels through liyue
for example - the little heart shaped island and the island quest (?) that you had to use kaeya the bridge maker for in order to get to im sorry i’ll stop w the kaeya slander
she’ll get you seashell bracelets or necklaces idk why but she gives me those vIBES
they’re super nice ones too, only the highest quality for you
yes she’s a bruh girl but i also see her as someone who would enjoy intimate moments like watching the sunset or something
“yo wanna catch the sunset, i heard it looks sick from the jade chamber” said before ahem it yk fell from the sky
kasdjksfashfjsahf yes ofc i would love to catch the sunset w you pls come home luv
anyways, she is a woman i would give the world for
zhongli
ok gimme a sec i need to get my gentleman mode on
this man,,, THIS MAN
everything w him is so soft like your entire eXISTENCE w him could go in a museum it’s that beautiful
in the morning when he visits you, he always brings you a cup of your favorite tea and a bouquet of glaze lilies he got from madame ping
holds the door for you, pushes the chair out for you, uses a napkin and brushes sauce off your lips when you’re eating - you name something sweet, he’s done it
secretly loves it when you fuss over him
he doesn’t like to fight but say he encountered a group of hillichurls he couldn’t avoid and promptly defeated them but ended up tearing a part of his tux(?) (is it a tux? i could not tell you)
not that big of a deal, i mean it’s a scratch, he’s a 6,000 year old god, he’s dealt w much worse
but seeing the worried crease in your brows as you usher him to sit at the table while quickly grabbing antiseptic to clean his wound
“it’s just a scratch, my dear. do not worry i’ve dealt with much worse.”
you quietly protest abt how “yes zhongli, i understand you’re an archon and have gotten worse injuries but i’m worried about infection just please let me take care of you ok? <3″
when you say that he feels weird emotions,,, wdym take care of him?
he’s always taken care of himself or been expected to take care of others as the former ruling deity of liyue so having someone else genuinely worry abt his wellbeing creates a warm feeling in his chest
he strikes me as the type to knit you something??? idk maybe it’s the grandpa vibes but i headcanon that he would knit you a scarf for the colder weather, it’s cute
in the privacy of your home, he really likes picking you up
he loves it when you wrap your legs around his middle while he gets up to go do the dishes or smthg
domesticity go brrrr
if you’re into making flower crowns, he would totally have you on his lap and wordlessly hand you a glaze lily whenever you expectantly hold your hand out while weaving the flowers together
he expects you to make the crown for yourself but when you place the crown on his head and it fits perfectly while simultaneously tucking a glaze lily behind your ear, he looks at you dumbstruck
his mouth parts open in awe and it’s quite literally the cutest thing
you’ve broken him
thinks it’s the sweetest thing - will keep it on his head for the whole day
he’ll even put it in water before he sleeps so it won’t wilt and he can wear it the next day <3
scenic picnics!! scenic picnics!!
the type to take you to the nicest spots in liyue to chat abt the history of the land w you over a cup of tea and your favorite food (whatever you like, he doesn’t mind)
recounts the people he’s met in his long life before finishing off by saying you’re by far the best person he’s met
zhongli strangles lovingly come home soon
thanks for reading! if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them in <3
#teethrottingfluff#xiao x reader#childe x reader#zhongli x reader#beidou x reader#genshin impact#genshin headcanons#genshin imagines#genshin scenarios#childe genshin impact#zhongli genshin impact#xiao genshin impact#beidou genshin impact#genshin fluff#tartaglia#childe#kaeya#zhongli#beidou#xiao
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Hi hi!! Could I request the dorm leaders (if that’s too many, your favorites!) with a child MC? (Parental or older sibling sorta relationship) (also by child I mean 8-10 years old) Have a wonderful day, drink some water and eat protein! 💕
@moomoo-mochi OMG THANK YOU??
I love this so much I’m just a sucker for this kind of prompt!!
Also, this will be based on how I acted as a toddler (spoiler I was a stupid kid)
a health potion with risu giggles for a fellow merchant!
(also sorry I didn't know what to write for iidia or vil and I didn't want to write something that I wasn't satisfied
The beginning
-you careless puppy, How many times I told the two of you to be careful!- professor crewel was scolding you and your lab partner...well at your lab partner more than you, you were kinda busy trying to get out of the cauldron to listen
You and your lab partner were assigned to do a regression potion that was supposed to work in reviving dead plants or turning rotten food into edible again but when you were measuring the exact amount of the last ingredient to finish the potion, somebody accidentally pushed you making you spill all of the ingredients...and yourself into the cauldron.
so now there you are extremely confused about what just happened and incapable of taking care of yourself for the 3 days the potion was supposed to last and now your lab partner has to take care of you until the potion wore off or mister crewel finds an antidote
Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle has an abusive mother and no younger siblings so our dear tomato is lost, he doesn’t know any rules that would help him take care of a little child so he asks trey for help (like most of heartsalybul when they have problems).
trey lets you eat pastries while riddle does his dorm leader duties but he looked away for a second and oops no child in sight...ok time to panic.
riddle was scolding some heartsalybul students that spilled all of the red paint in one of the chairs so now not only the other members of the dorm couldn’t continue painting but now the unbirthday party had to cancel and you know what happens when you break one of the queen’s rules
-OFF WITH YOUR- Riddle swung his magic pen
-wead!- riddle turn around to see you with a rose in your hand pretending it to be a magic pen
-off widd your wead!- you repeated swinging the rose up and down
riddle was stroked by your cuteness like a truck; he was speechless (also because picking roses was against the rules but lest ignore it) the two students he was scolding ran away because their dorm leader was picking you up and giggling at your little imitation of him
-nono Off, with, your, head!-
-off wid your wead!-
Leona kingschoolar
-agh how annoying- the savanaclaw dorm leader wasn’t a big fan of children and much less taking care of them, he probably was gonna throw you at Ruggie or jack, both of them had younger siblings so they could probably take care of you better but there is one thing he didn’t count off
-LEONA OJI-TAN-...fuck, today was the day Cheka came to visit his dear oji-tan, now Leona is not only stuck with a brat but with a furball too.
-who are them uncle?-(owo who this) Cheka waved at the child that was behind his uncle’s legs-hi I am Cheka, wanna play tag?!-oh ho ho this gives him an idea
-Cheka this is Y/N, your new playmate-the lion cub had a little sparkle in his eyes
-you two can play all day and ill be watching you from that tree so have fun-hell yea he was a genius Cheka and you are entertained, and he can nap is a win-win situation for everyone
-WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH- and there it goes his perfect plan
-oi, what happened- you were in sitting on the ground while hugging your knee and crying your heart out and Cheka kneeled beside you trying to comfort you
-I’m-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to push you it was an accident- now he looked like he wanted to cry
-agh you two cut it out-Leona said in a low growl while kneeling beside you-is just a scratch don’t worry just let me-he picked you up.
now all of you were in his room he gently bandages your knee while Cheka was holding your hand for “moral support”
-kiss to make it better Leona oji-tan!-
-only if both of you promise to be more careful-Cheka nodded- ok “pain, pain go away *woshh*, there you go- you moved your knee and started to giggle while Cheka was already dragging you to continue playing, the two of you were lucky that both were cute because not everybody can see this side of Leona and live for telling it
Azul Ashengrotto
-Come, come everyone!-the leader of octaville tapped his fedora-For the price of 25 madol you can have for a limited time only a photo of our dear Y/N as a toddler!-
and of course, our dear capitalist Ursula is taking profit from this situation.
you were sitting in a little chair all dolled up while jade took pictures of you with different students and Floyd was taking the money from dose poor unfortunate souls
An hour passed and there were still about 50+ students in line for a photo when Azul notice something about you.
your hands were in the form of a tiny fist and your eyes were watery and you haven’t smiled at the camera for the last photos even when Floyd made funny faces behind jade you weren’t enjoying this.
usually, he wouldn’t care about it, he was making some good money and that was the important thing but you were different, you were his friend
-the lounge is closed, everyone get out, Floyd take care of that and jade-he looked for a second at you-make something warm for our little guest-
all of the students in line emitted different protest sounds but a look at Floyd grin and everyone was already on the exit
-sorry for all that little one- he lightly patted your hair-what about I pay you for your work with some treats?-
-*happy gasp* YESH!!-you hugged his leg with a strong grip-
-nee~ nee~, why Azul can have a hug from shrimpy and I cant?-
-FWOYD!! :D-
Kalim al asim
-Kalim, please calm down-Jamil said looking like he is gonna pop up a blood vessel
-LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y/N LITTLE Y-he was let’s say...excited about this situation
-JAMILLOOKATTHEMTHEYARESOCUTEANDTINYIWANNATROWAPARTYFORJUSTTHEMOMGTHEYARESOCUTE-
-Remember to breathe Kalim and please calm down you are scaring them-Jamil said while kneeling to be on your level
-*gasp* I’m sorry y/n, I’m just so happy to be with you, are you hungry?-you give a quick nod
for the surprise of Jamil, the fact that you turned into a child made Kalim more independent???
he knew that crewel sensei asked Kalim to take care of you but he kinda assumed he is the one who will end up taking care of both of you.
-emmm Jamil-and here we go-have you seen Y/N around?-
-excuse me whAT??!!- Jamil shouted- HOW DO YOU LOSE A CHILD?-
-I didn’t lose them I just….temporally misplace them...OK YES, I LOST THEM BUT IS NOT MY FAULT WE WERE PLAYING HIDE N SEEK!-
-sure sure Kalim never anything is your fault-Jamil said between teeth-
Kalim could be a literal ray of sunshine but one of his bigs flaws were his “rich person behavior”
because he was spoiled and lived in a bubble he didn’t understand that his actions had consequences, in the good side he was working on it.
two hours had passed since that moment are you were nowhere to be found
now the scarabia duo was starting to panic
-OMG HOW IM SO CARELESS THAT I LOST THEM WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO THEM IM THE WORST FRIEND IN THE WORLD-
-KALIM CALM DOWN, PANIC WILL NOT HELP IN THIS SITUATION-
-WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME-
-BECAUSE YOU ARE YELLING-
-*snore*-
-..............................-
-Jamil,...did that pillow made a sound?-
-I think so ?-
*SNOOOREEE*
and there you were sleeping under a big mountain of pillows you fell asleep while playing so that, why you didn’t, respond to the calls of the two boys
-ok Kalim we found them and I hope this had taught you a lesson about taking care of things...well taking care of people-
-oh for the great seven I thought I was gonna have a heart attack-
-now you know how I feel and I really would appreciate it if you used this experience to-
-*SNOOOOREEE*-
And now Kalim was sleeping beside you
great seven give Jamil patience and have mercy on both of you when morning comes
Malleus draconia
-arent you a little thing fufufufuf-
-old man be careful with them-silver said
you might be wondering, I thought malleus would take care of toddler Y/N?
Well, that was the plan...malleus is a reserved man, with no friends more than his two guards and the older fae that raised him, that was until he meets you, you looked at him in the eyes with no fear just a hint of curiosity.
you gave him his first nickname,”tsunotaro” a childish name that was almost disrespectful to the heir of the valley of thorns and one of the most powerful wizards of all twisted wonderland, yet you called him that silly name, you hugged him, you listen to him and he listened to you, you were his friend and precisely because that he left you at the care of Lilia, the mere thought of you screaming and running away from him made his heart ache
that always happened…
Malleus is used to that, since he was a child people looked at him with fear or caution but never with kindness except for one person, you
and he was determined to let that like that, but he couldn’t stop thinking what if something happens to you?
what type of friend he would be if he lets somebody take advantage of you in this vulnerable state?
a peek wouldn’t hurt
there you were, in the flower bed of ramshackle dorm both planted, taking dandelions from around and with inexperience and tiny hands crafting a flower crown too small for anyone except you.
he looked at you from the shadows carefully to not being spotted warding you like the dragon he is.
-hewo-small and tired eyes fixed behind a large tree
malleus was behind that tree…
-whats yowr name?-now standing up and slowly walking to the tree in question-are you shy?, is oke I won’t hurt yow-
like if a child could do any damage to him
-I made thwis fow you-you said reveling a second flower crown that was just a little bit bigger than the one in your head
you let the flower crown on the floor near the tree and waited, malleus knowing how stubborn you were he knew you wouldn’t leave so he left his hiding spot thinking about the screams and the fear your little face will have
-waaaa, you big! (giggles)-again, no signs of fear-uppa uppa!-you said while rising your hands to the sky and opening and closing your little fists
malleus emitted a low chuckle and picked you up, when you got to his eye level immediately went for his horns touching and grabbing all your little hands could
-you sure are a strange thing, little child of man-
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland au#twisted wonderland kalim#twisted wonderland x reader#riddle#riddle rosehearts#twst riddle#twisted wonderland riddle#Leona#leona kingscholar#twisted wonderland leona#twst leona#azul#Azul Ashengrotto#twisted wonderland azul#twst azul#kalim#kalim al asim#twst kalim#jamil#Jamil Viper#twisted wonderland jamil#twst jamil#Malleus#twisted wonderland malleus#malleus draconia#twst malleus#inty's.potions#twisted wonderland headcanons
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Hello and welcome back! May I request hcs for dormleaders with a s/o who wears shades a lot till' they found out that everyone in their middle school wanted to gouge their beautiful eyes out beacuse some are jealous or wanting to sell it to the market? Thank u!
(Yes I am referencing the eys from Gojo from JJK)
I haven't really watched Jujutsu Kaisen (tho I watched sukuna and gojo scenes in YT) but I already know Gojo and Sukuna, seeing the thirst tweets on Twitter back then. I plan on watching it once it's totally finished. (But seriously Gojo’s eyes are so pretty) Thank you for the request and I hope you like this!~
Dorm Leader Headcanons
Riddle Rosehearts
He'll had to admit. The first time he met you, he almost chop off your head for wearing those shades all day. Even at night, much to his utter disbelief. Being the strict abide-to-the-rules person he was back then, he ordered you to take them off. Seeing those eyes had startled him for dear life.
This was the time he finds out everything you've been through because of those eyes. Constantly in danger for people in your school who might possibly attack you. The redhead was upset as you predicted. You further explained more about your eyes and how those shades affect your vision.
Riddle quietly observed you. How come you are so strong despite all the pain you have been through? The redhead held your hands and pecked your lips.
Even himself was flustered with his own actions, he wasn't really good at expressing his feelings for you but he'll try his best. Seeing how he was doing his own way of comforting someone, you giggled at the cuteness of your boyfriend.
"I'm not strong physically but with my magic, I'll make sure those who have ill intensions towards you will have their heads cut off."
Leona Kingscholar
This lion never spoke a word about it as he respects your space. Until you decided to open it up to him. That sunglasses didn't really bothered him the slightest except when he discovered you even wear it in the dark especially at night much to his chagrin.
Can you even see in that especially in the dark? He'll just huff at the idea that popped in his mind. It is definitely impossible for a human like you to see clearly in the dark.
When he thought you were just an odd herbivore, he was taken aback when you suddenly opened up your past and explained more about your eyes. Both of you were lying down his bed cuddling, when he crawled atop of you stopping you from your story.
As he held your face, both staring into each others eyes for a moment. Leona's face was blank yet so many emotions are going through his eyes. Yet you recognize anger, worry and fear. Knowing many thoughts were running in his head, you lean your face close and your lips met with his and that calm his mind. Leona's body became relaxed as he bury his face to the side of your neck.
"I may not always be beside you, but just call my name. I'll be sure to be there."
Azul Ashengrotto
Azul merely shook his head at how violent land dwellers were. He have heard stories of how humans can be cruel ever since he was small. But to think you were a target just because of your eyes is what made him distraught. Your boyfriend silently hugged you from behind as he thought of the possibilities of you being targeted once more but here in Twisted-Wonderland.
He would suggest you to have a contract with him to hide the true appearance of your eyes. In exchange of it, you will have to spend your entire life with him. He offered this, his cheeks bright pink and shaky voice.
You let a little laugh at what your lover what implying. Pecking his lips, you held his hands and stare at his bluish-gray eyes.
"Darling, I would love the thought but that will not change the effect of how I see the world. I would also love to spend the rest of my life with you but marriage can wait."
Azul had a huge smile as he peppered your neck with kisses. If ever someone planned on laying a hand on you, your lover will certainly pay them a visit with the twins. In the end, he would suggest to you to atleast have Jade and Floyd near you at all times to which you rejected.
Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim would be that type of person who is very vocal of things. He would bug you about why you wore shades all the time. Upon catching a glimpse of your eyes, he was stunned. This soft boy loves complimenting your eyes despite not knowing the story behind those. Learning how others wanted to take your eyes just for their own benefit or out of jealousy, he'll shower you with lots of attention and affection.
Kalim is the type of person who'll empathize with someone who has experience things he himself didn't. He'll even apologize even if it wasn't his fault.
This boy would even cry for you which made you comfort him and tell he shouldn't feel responsible. There were times you thought he was too good that others may use this against him.
The next day, a stressed out Jamil will approach you to question why Kalim suddenly wanted to buy lots of shades. Hearing this you immediately run to find your boyfriend to stop him.
"They say jewels and gold are have far more worth but for me, your worth is more that those things."
Vil Schoenheit
Vil thought those shades was just part of your fashion and it looked good on you. It may have startled him before, that you wore it the whole time until Rook pointed it out to him.
He loves putting different shades of eyeshadows that compliments your eyes. It didn't help that your boyfriend will stare heatedly at yours, making you feel shy.
After hearing what you've been though back in your world, he understood how it is to be envied by others for something they don't have nor feel threatened by someone. But to the point of wanting their eyes out of jealousy or to sell them?
The thought of his s/o being in danger back then all because of their eyes, he felt sick and disgusted. Who in the world would gouge out someone's eyes? (cougheyesonmecough). Vil would then press on to know if there are ever people following you lately. To which you reassured no one was.
Also being aware on how the sunglasses affects your vision, your lover made sure to tag you along to buy different kinds that will fit to your outfits. You just let yourself be dragged by your boyfriend seeing how fired up he was when it comes to fashion and makeup.
Idia Shroud
At the beginning, Idia was creeped out when you wore shades all the time. Be it during History class, Physical Education, even Alchemy (much to Crewel's dismay). Upon discovering your eyes, he was fascinated by them.
When he find out how people back in your middle school wanted your eyes just to sell them for their own profit made this lovable boyfriend of yours speechless at human greed. He would literally made a special glasses just to hide your unique eyes.
A small part of him was guilty that he felt like he didn't deserve someone like you. But hearing your story, a surge of determination overcame him.
You tried to convince him that he doesn't need to build one for him, but he was already gone by the time Ortho told you.
Much to your surprise, the glasses let you see normally than you usually would whenever you don't have your shades.
Idia would explain to you the other functions it can do and the precautions. He even handed you the contacts just in case. Moved by the efforts of your usual gloomy boyfriend who is now , you happily kissed your boyfriend who suddenly turned into a blabbering mess at the sudden kiss.
"I may not be so reliable but I'll make sure to protect you from the shadows..."
Malleus Draconia
Your eyes is what made a lasting impression for Malleus. It was as if those eyes could swallow his whole being despite you being a human. Hearing this all from you, he wasn't surprise that your fellow humans would try to gouge out your eyes. Humans are fickle and easily swayed by their desires. Jealousy was an ugly thing.
Caressing your cheek, he kissed both of your eyelids as he spoke. "When I am here, no one will dare to hurt you. If they ever do, they will have to suffer my wrath."
Seeing your lover was emitting dark aura, you immediately hugged his waist and reassured that was in the past. Many thoughts ran through this fae as he wanted to ease your burden. When he offered that he might find a way to make your eyes normal, you rejected it.
He didn't have to go through so much length just to change your eyes. As much as it was hell for you but thanks to these eyes, you met many friends here in Twisted Wonderland.
Malleus merely shook his head. HIs s/o was too kind for their own good. As much as he didn’t agree with your decision, he’ll definitely be more protective for the next few days than you thought.
"Others may find you a thorn to my side, but to me you are my human, my heart, my soul and my weakness. My other half."
#twst dorm leader hcs#gojo eyes prettyyyy#thank you for the request!#riddle x reader#leona x reader#azul x reader#kalim x reader#vil x reader#idia x reader#malleus x reader#twst headcanon#twsted-writer request
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okay so I love littlemix!reader x Tom holland??? the best pairing ever??? Anyways could you do something based of Holiday, like it’s obviously based off their lovers and maybe his reaction to the song & mv? Pls I’m in love with Baby Mix btw 😌❤️
Glad you’re enjoying the Little Mix member!reader x Tom Holland fics, I’m enjoying them too🥰 Thank you for the support on Baby Mix, btw, I appreciate it! Sorry for taking so long! Much love and happy reading💖
💌.
Holiday
I completely forgot when the girls dropped the video so I’m making up a time. Enjoy:)
Counting down the minutes to midnight, Tom continuously refreshed the YouTube app on your smart tv. The two of your were in his shared home with Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine. You’ve been staying with the lot since the beginning of quarantine; London’s travel ban prevented you from catching a flight back home to your family, resulting in your boyfriend, Tom, begging you to stay with him and his mates. You didn’t have a problem with it in all honesty, the boys were great and respectful roommates. Though you were the only woman in the house, they provided you with entertainment and respected your alone time. They were a nice group of lads, letting you in on inside jokes and making you feel like you were part of the gang. By now, you probably were part of the gang. Harrison even considered on replacing Tom with you.
“Bubs, the video’s not gonna be up yet.” You glance at the screen that showed the previous videos the band’s channel posted. Tom huffed, nudging your arms apart so he can squeeze through them to lay on your chest. The two of you were currently in his room waiting for the release of Holiday’s music video. Tom had been anticipating the video all day, asking for hints about the music video’s concept and wondering how it looked.
With his body snuggled up against yours, he rested his head on your chest and wrapped his arm around your torso. His other hand reached towards the tv with the remote as he clicked the video for Break Up Song.
“I know it’s not gonna be up yet, but what if they accidentally uploaded it early? I wanna see the video already.” He whined. His fingers began to drum to the beat of Break Up Song on your stomach.
You laughed, fingers carding through his brown curls that have grown for the past months. He hums along to the song while you text the girls. He lets out a chuckle once he sees you on the screen doing the dance that he’s been helping you learn for the video. You had been struggling to get the choreography down and doing the moves on time. Noticing your desperate attempts at the moves, Tom offered to help you. Obviously in the end you perfected the choreography, seeing as it made the video, thanks to Tom.
“You are so cute.” He mused watching you dance around in the video. “Look at you dance, I don’t know what you were so worried about. You look so adorable when you dance and look at your face! Just wanna squish those cheeks together.” He began to tease you. You whine his name out as he reached up to squish your cheeks together with his hand. Your phone began to rang causing him to stop. He glances at the sceeen, “It’s my best friend, lemme answer it.”
“Go ahead.” You giggled handing him your phone. His head remains on your chest as he answers the FaceTime call. Jesy pops up on the screen with a giant smile but it drops once she sees Tom, changing into a playful scowl.
“Hi best friend!” Tom greets her loudly, a playful grin on his face. Jesy rolls her eyes at the boy.
“Hi Tom.” She greeted him sarcastically. “Give the phone to (y/n).”
“She’s right here, see,” Tom moved the phone further away so you were both in the frame. You waved at her, “Jess I miss you!” You cried.
“I miss you too darling—Tom give her the bloody phone!” Jesy scolded him through the phone. He let out a dramatic sigh before handing you your phone and snuggling into your stomach, mumbling something about “not being able to catch a break from the constant bullying of Jesy Nelson.”
“Right just a few minutes left, I’m trying to get the other girls on here.” Jesy explained as she tapped around her phone. Sooner or later. The two of you were joined by Perrie, Jade, and Leigh-Anne.
Perrie let out a squeal as she saw everyone on the screen, “You guys I miss you so much!”
“Didn’t we all see each other just a few weeks ago?” Jade asked sipping on a glass of wine as per usual.
“Yeah, on the set, but it’s a few weeks too long.” You pouted. You noticed that everyone was drinking except for you, “Wait, has everyone got a drink except for me?”
Leigh-Anne’s eyes scanned everyone on the screen, “You are, are you in bed already? It’s so early babe.”
“Leigh-Anne’s it’s literally about to be midnight, it’s late.” Jesy chimes. Jade makes a sound of disagreement, “I mean does time even matter anymore?”
“What day is it anyway? I’ve lost track.” Perrie thought out loud. You moved to get up from the bed but Tom stopped you. “Where are you going?” He whispered.
“I’m getting a drink, I’ll be back.” You patted his cheek before sitting up. He stops you once again and stands from the bed, “I’ll get you one.” He kisses your temple and leaves the room.
“Aww, was that Tom?” Jade asked leaning closer to her camera. You hummed, “Yup, being the amazing boyfriend he is and getting me a drink.”
Perrie smirked at you, “Gosh, there’s that smile again. She’s whipped for ‘im ladies!” The girls began “ooo-ing” like a bunch of elementary school girls. “Guys, stop.” You whine.
“Have you told him the part you wrote was inspired by him?” Leigh-Anne asked, chin in her palm.
“No, I’ll tell him while he’s watching. He’s been so excited the whole day, probably more than me.” You chuckle. As if on cue, Tom comes back in with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
“Tom’s going to be so nerdy about it, like a cute nerdy, you know what I mean? All mushy gushy. Like how he gets whenever (y/n) kisses his cheeks.” Jesy said as the girls cooed. Tom peeks from beside you.
“Did I hear that correctly? Did Jesy just compliment me?” He asked everyone, looking back at you for confirmation. You shrugged as you looked at Jesy. Jade stifled a laugh at Jesy’s annoyed expression.
“Oh fuck off you div. It’s an observation. You could barely compose yourself whenever you’re around (y/n).” Jesy playfully jabs at him. You adored their friendship, it was like a brother/sister bond. Jesy being the older sibling and Tom being the annoying little brother.
“Jes, leave the poor boy alone, he makes our baby happy.” Perrie defended Tom. Tom smiles thankfully at her, “Thank you Perrie, at least I know some of you like me.”
Tom pops open the champagne and takes one of the glasses to pour the beverage in, “But I’ll take it as a compliment Jes. Cheers to that.” He raises his glass and clinks it with your phone screen. You and the girls continue to talk until midnight. When the video was finally released you all celebrated and took some screenshots of each other to post later.
When your FaceTime call with the girls ended, you turned to Tom, who already had the video up on the screen. He made grabby hands at you and pulled you to sit in between his legs. With his back against the headboard he made sure the two of you were comfy before asking you, “Can I click play now?”
You chuckled at him as his leg bounced, “Yup.” He pressed play, placing the remote down and wrapping his arm around your front to pull you closer to him. The intro to the video starts, the title of the song appearing on the screen in a water type font. Jesy pops up on the screen singing her part, Tom cheers yelling “It’s my best friend!”
Tom hypes each of the girls up while they appear on the screen, cheering their names. When the chorus comes, his brows furrow as he looks down at you. “Wait where are you? Why—why didn’t they show you yet?” He questioned you, visibly upset. You were about to answer but instead pointed to the screen when you realized your part was coming up.
Boy, have I told ya?
You give it to me like no other guy
We got that heat, yeah, like the summer (summer)
And that's why I'm so glad I made you mine
You appeared on the screen, body cladded in a white bikini that had gold straps for both the bra and thong. You bursted out laughing when you saw Tom’s reaction. His eyes look like they were about to bulge out his head while his jaw was slacked.
“Holy...shit.” He mumbled eyes glued to the screen as you sang. The scene was you in that blue hallway type set. You looked at the camera, bedroom eyes fully activated as your back slid down the wall. You felt his grip around you tighten, his breathing getting deeper.
The scene changed to the one with the planets, sculptures, and lounging chairs. You were seen walking towards a Chaise lounge, giving the camera a perfect view of your bum. While you sat sideways on the couch in the video, Tom couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous you looked in the video. You looked like a goddess, confident as you strutted around in that little number of yours in the video.
You turned to look at him once your part was done and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You know my whole part was about you right?” His head snaps to look at you, “You wrote something about me in a song?”
“Tommy, I always do. Who else would I be singing about?” You asked him amused. He took a second to think before shaking his head, “I thought it was in general, like it was based on how you would feel if you were with someone that made you feel that way.”
You nod at his explanation, “Well yeah, the fans could see it that way. But when I sing it, it’s about you.”
A goofy grin made its way to his face before he giggled, “It’s about me.” He pulled you into a hug from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. He turned back to the tv to see you all dressed as mermaids while you sang your part in the chorus.
“Wait what—you’re mermaids?” The look of confusion appeared on his face again as he tried to figure out the video. He looked at you then back to the screen, repeating the action a few times.
“I never thought I’d say this, but if you were a mermaid, I’d still fuck you.” He confessed with a shrug. You bursted out laughing at his confession, “How do you even fuck a mermaid, Tom?”
His hands gripped your sides, voice going down an octave, “You tell me, (y/n). Get the mermaid tail back and we’ll find out.” You looked at him shocked, “Thomas!”
He laughed dropping the act and went back to watching the music video. “Wait, I’m still cofused. I thought you guys were in space cause of the planets and stuff. Why are you guys also underwater? And mermaids?” You tilted your head trying to come up with an answer for him.
“Um—it’s a spa, on a another planet, which also has an ocean I’m guessing, and that’s why we’re also mermaids?” You explained, also questioning yourself.
“I like the concept, probably the most random video you guys have had, but it’s sick.” He approved of the video with an impressed look on his face. When the video ended, he immediately pressed replay. Though when your part came up this time he let out a “GOD DAMN” before his eyes scanned you up and down. When he finally felt like he’s processed the music video, he let it play in the background and paid attention to you.
He leaned down to kiss your lips sweetly, “Love, that was amazing. I’m proud of you.” He was quick to add on, “And thank you for writing a part of the song about me, I never thought someone would write a song about me, not even a part. But thank you, I love you so much.”
You giggled shoving your face into his neck as you both moved to cuddling. Suddenly you remembered something you and the boys promised to do.
“Tom! We were supposed to watch the video with the other boys! Remember we promised to not watch it without them?” You leaned back to look at Tom who was already shaking his head.
“Oh they’re not allowed to watch the video.” He muttered. Your brows furrow at him. Tom motions to the tv, the part where your bum was facing the camera on the screen.
“Because of that, I don’t need them seeing that, that’s mine.” One of his hands trail down the length of your back to grip your ass. He rolled over so he was on top of you, dipping his head into your neck, his lips ghosted fluttery kisses along your skin. You let out a content sigh, running your hands through his soft hair. When his lips reached your ear, he whispered, “But seriously though, you should think about investing in a mermaid tail.”
#marvel#mcu#avengers#Tom Holland#Tom Holland x reader#Tom Holland imagine#tom holland fluff#tom holland one shot#tom holland drabble#tom holland headcanon#little mix#jesy nelson#jade thirlwall#perrie edwards#leigh anne pinnock#ally’s requests
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if i told you | jjk
summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.
{friends to lovers!au, college!au}
pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader
genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks
word count: 22k
warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual
a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!
check out the post-script drabble here!
Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.
You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center.
He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour.
“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex.
You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack.
Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.
“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen.
“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus.
“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little.
“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks.
You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks.
“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going.
“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”
“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”
He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough.
“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”
“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”
“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”
“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”
“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon.
“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”
“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”
Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”
“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly.
“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”
“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”
Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”
“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”
This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:
Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol.
I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well.
I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater.
Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!
It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile.
The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.
The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration.
Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties.
On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost.
Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking.
“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”
“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”
You knew that already. How could you have forgotten?
You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”
When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session.
That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.
“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies.
“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully.
You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?
“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended.
“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology.
Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right.
“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own.
Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean.
“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired.
“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!”
“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study.
“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble.
“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student.
“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it.
As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale.
“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now.
“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown.
“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier.
Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table.
“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed.
“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”
Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah.
“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli.
“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to.
You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him.
Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”
You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth.
“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes.
Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”
And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check.
Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life.
And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes.
But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years.
It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.
Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.
Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way.
It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door.
On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is.
Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life.
Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”
Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”
He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”
Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing.
Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all.
Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”
It’s so hard to say no to him.
“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do.
The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine.
Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you.
The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison.
“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask.
“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”
“So I’ve heard,” you muse.
“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs.
“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades.
“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”
You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks.
“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already.
“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway.
You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”
“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”
“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”
He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different.
Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo.
“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion.
“What?” You ask, turning to look at him.
“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it.
“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center.
“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”
You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post.
It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth.
Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕
“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably.
It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway.
“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch.
“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”
Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”
And who are you to resist?
You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off.
The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep.
You’re best friends.
This is normal.
(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)
He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity.
He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side.
God.
Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end.
This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Sighing, you pick up.
“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”
“Chaewon—”
“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”
“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you.
“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”
“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly.
“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”
What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them.
“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.
“Who’s that?”
You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you.
“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”
“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”
“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”
“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday.
“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts.
“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”
You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”
Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up.
“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud.
“Chaewon,” you tell him.
“Oh, why was she calling?”
“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”
“To do what?”
Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing.
“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans.
“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”
“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”
“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.
“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them.
“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”
“What about food?”
“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests.
You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”
“Gross.”
“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”
“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”
“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”
“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you.
“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not.
“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin.
“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer.
“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”
“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”
“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”
“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet.
“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”
“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting.
Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”
The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different.
You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place.
You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon.
“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”
“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout.
“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”
“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door.
“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”
You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”
“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”
“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”
“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”
“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”
“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”
“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true.
Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight.
Who else could it be?
It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance.
You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.
[October 17th, 4:12PM]
You: do u want to get dinner tonight
Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(
You: ok next time then!
[October 23rd, 1:03PM]
You: yo what r u doing
You: i have so many readings to do rip
You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study
Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/
Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!
You: yummm sure thing!
[October 30th, 9:58AM]
You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃
You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die
[October 30th, 11:13PM]
Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry
Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year
[October 31st, 2:02AM]
You: ok
You: thanks for telling me
It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why.
Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters.
You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with.
Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once.
You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.
No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not.
Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!
There’s a knock on your door.
Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense.
And then, you hear,
“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”
To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did.
When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster.
“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure.
“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him.
“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”
“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”
“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”
“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it.
“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”
“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”
Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores.
He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him.
And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.
The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it.
“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay.
“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning.
“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him.
Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink.
“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask.
“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you.
“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”
“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”
It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason.
All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away.
“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot.
“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”
“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough.
“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”
He dashes down the hallway.
And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone.
Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life.
Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there.
“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments.
“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh.
Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”
“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her.
“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say.
“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire.
“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business.
You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”
“Thanks?”
“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.
“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”
Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents.
“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning.
“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”
Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance.
“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year.
“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders.
“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner.
“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”
“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly.
“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”
“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive.
It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him.
(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)
“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”
“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen.
“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner.
“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun.
“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”
“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot.
Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach.
“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”
“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”
“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”
“She’s a goddess.”
“Indeed.”
Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”
Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does.
“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide.
“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”
You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back.
“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed.
Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”
“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns.
“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”
“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook.
It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.
“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.”
“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”
“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”
“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on.
“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook.
Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all.
“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”
You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you.
Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either.
“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other.
“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”
“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”
Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”
“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?”
“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”
If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him.
“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone.
“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet, “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”
“How about a dress?”
You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?”
Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated.
“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”
“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”
“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her.
“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully.
“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase.
Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads. “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”
“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan.
“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”
A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since.
“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.
“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.
“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not.
“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”
She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year.
“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”
“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?”
“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.
Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.”
Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?
“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”
“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”
Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality.
When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen.
In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?
As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.
At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so.
“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale.
“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”
“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep.
“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do.
On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing.
But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo.
You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands.
“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”
Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little.
When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all.
Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time.
“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before.
“Im Chaewon, is that you?”
“Mrs. Kim!”
A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face.
“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes.
“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot.
“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time.
“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”
You are not pre-law.
“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.
“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly.
“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there.
“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim.
When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”
“You like mingling, I take?” You joke.
“Just murder me.”
“Have any tips?”
“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?”
“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”
Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her.
The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach.
Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once.
Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks.
“Tired?”
“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”
“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically.
“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”
And then, you spot him.
He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms.
You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here.
Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours.
Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him.
From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy.
Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright.
It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities.
You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with.
“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.
A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself.
You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here.
You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”
That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place.
“You’ve been acting weird.”
“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place.
“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”
You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”
“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares.
“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.
“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything.
“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep.
“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands.
“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”
“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted.
“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”
“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”
“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon.
“Is it? How?” Chaewon says.
“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”
Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”
“You?”
“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”
“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”
“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high.
“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all.
“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”
“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse.
“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”
“Why would I?”
When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode.
Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge?
“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”
The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock.
“Jungkook?”
He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you.
“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”
“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly.
“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter.
“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal.
“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”
“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”
“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them.
Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”
“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”
“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”
“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you.
You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name.
He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”
“Good?”
Jungkook moans again in response.
“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly.
“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”
“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”
“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”
“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course.
Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars.
“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec.
“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”
“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”
Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”
“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse.
“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”
You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night?
“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would.
“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.
Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”
“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement.
“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”
“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”
“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”
Oh?
“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”
“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?
“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”
Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know.
“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”
Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time.
Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself.
So, you aren’t that lonely.
Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted.
You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.
Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night.
And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down.
There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually.
Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it.
“Y/N?”
Oh, God.
Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option.
You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter.
When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side.
Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him.
“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”
“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.”
“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”
“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”
“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”
“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”
You can’t say you didn’t do the same.
“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”
“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side.
(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)
“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa.
Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing.
“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.
“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”
“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”
“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”
He had come? You didn’t know if he would.
(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)
“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”
“I always come after my events. You know that.”
“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct.
“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real.
“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”
“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears?
“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”
“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm.
“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else.
“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest.
“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend.
“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”
“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him.
“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”
“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”
“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”
“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”
“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”
“Jungkook, what—”
Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together.
Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go.
When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking.
“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape.
“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”
“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”
“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”
“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”
“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer.
“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone.
Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”
“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”
“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you. He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”
You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”
It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes.
“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate.
You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time.
On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies.
“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you.
“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom.
“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”
“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”
“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”
You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself.
“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs.
“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”
“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”
“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”
“You do?” Jungkook asks.
“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless.
“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over.
“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”
“Mine too.”
“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”
“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest.
“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”
“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”
Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.
You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates.
“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.
“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.
“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.
“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”
“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”
“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”
Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”
You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”
“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”
“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh.
“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you.
“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center.
Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin.
Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”
“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”
↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!
↳ check out the post-script drabble here!
#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts fluff#bts angst#bts scenario#jungkook scenario#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#bts au#jungkook au#w: if i told you#god this fic.... i cant believe i wrote this.... how did i do it
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wish you were here
Characters: Mark Lee & you
Setting: wish dragon au (and a bit of aladdin because mark even has a tiger in their garden like jasmine did. don’t ask why, just blame the regular mv), childhood best friends to lovers (at least there’s potential?)
Genre: fluff and humour
Warnings: mentions of a sick animal and a wild animal kept as a pet in a huge garden (just like jasmine’s tiger, it’s very tamed)
Summary: A magical teapot, a dragon that wants everyone to be happy and an old friendship being revived. Oh yeah, have I told you that you have 3 wishes?
Words: 6.4k
For @restlessmaknae 💕
When your mother told you you got delivery to your childhood home, you certainly did not expect this: a brown box as big as a small watermelon with your old Canadian address and MARK LEE scrabbled next to your name as another recipient but no sender. Not to mention, the first stamp on the thing was dating back to the early 2010s. Where the hell was this package for 10 years? And what would you and your old neighbour slash best friend have gotten together?
Okay, first things first:
You and this clumsy, kind of cute kid, Mark had been quite tight while growing up. You were born in the same year, only a month apart, and his family lived in the house next to yours in the suburbs of Vancouver, so it was kind of natural. You two might have been against the world kind of comrades, playing hide and seek when you were six and wondering about whether time travelling was possible through black holes at twelve. But no matter how close you used to be, you fell out of touch when Mark's family moved to the other end of the world, back to Korea, their roots when you were fourteen. You slowly forgot about him, and started university in the city, moving away from home, so nothing really reminded you of him ⎼ and your stupid, big fat crush on him that you had no courage to tell him about in middle school ⎼, nothing until this box.
You put the delivered package on your kitchen table while you make some dinner for yourself out of what you have gotten during grocery shopping earlier just before you picked up the mysterious stuff at the post office. You eye it suspiciously over your pasta, really not wrapping your mind about what it could be but instead of annoying yourself with this pointless curiosity, you put your fork down and stand up to open it. It’s a struggle at first, the box being secured with multiple adhesive tapes over the years but when you finally get rid of all that and can look inside of it, an intense feeling rushes through you… immerse disappointment.
“A teapot? For real? What were we thinking?” you furrow your brows taking the small, green and pretty old teapot into your hands. It looks like a piece of a traditional Asian set with its jade colour and dragon pattern. It couldn’t have been in a much better shape 10 years ago either seeing how wayworn it is but still, you expected something more… exciting? Something funny that might or might not give you an excuse to look up Mark Lee on the internet and message him for the sake of old times. But how lame it would be to befriend him on Facebook only to tell him that you got delivered a teapot under both your names. Hah, you would rather not embarrass yourself like that.
You shoot one last glance at the teapot before leaving it on your counter and going back to your food, you successfully forget about the whole ordeal. You carry your life on with only one small difference: Mark Lee back on your mind after long, long years.
It was just a small crush, you tell yourself, sighing as you look into the mirror, absentmindedly wondering how he’s doing. Does he think of you sometimes as well? Did he go to music college like he has always wanted? Is he happy? You wish he was even if he’s half a world away and with that thought you think it’s time to go to sleep despite the upcoming weekend days. You don’t want to mess up your sleep schedule over some boy but as soon as you pull the blanket over your chest and close your eyes, something explodes in your kitchen.
You jump out of bed faster than lightning, in slight panic over the fact that your neighbours will hate you for bothering them late at night and your landlord would kill you if you managed to blow up your microwave. But the sight that welcomes you is like no other that you imagined. The whole room is covered in thick pink glittery smoke. Like your worst Barbie nightmare.
“What the⎼” you cough, waving your hands to clear the air and once it dissolves into nothingness with its weirdly cotton candy smell, there’s a boy in the middle of it all, sitting cross legged on your kitchen counter so casually as if he owned the place. His pink-ish purple hair hangs into his eyes and he seems to find your coffee machine strangely interesting. You grab the first thing you can ⎼ a blender ⎼ and hold it up in defensive before yelling at the boy: “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”
The stranger’s mouth pulls up in a charming smile, his eyes sparkle as he turns his attention to you, hopping off the counter. He’s all thin and long limbs, so you hate how you hate to look up at him as he walks towards you before bowing ceremoniously.
“Hello, sorry for the sudden appearance, I just couldn’t wait any longer! I’ve been stuck in that teapot waaay too long. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. My name is Taeyong, I’m a wish dragon and you’re my new owner,” he smiles and what he says makes absolutely no sense.
“A wish dragon?” you mumble in shock, looking around to see if this is just another prank of Johnny. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him jump out from under one of the cupboards. Or maybe you just fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Yeah, that seems like a realistic scenario.
“Ah, yes! I know I don’t look like it but modern times require modern solutions. Most people freak out because of my dragon form, so human it is,” the boy who seems only a few years older than you grins as he’s chatting and you have to give it to him, he takes this role pretty seriously. “You have three wishes as my owner. You can ask for anything as long as it’s not about death or love.”
So you got yourself someone who thinks he’s basically a genie? Oh gosh, is he that drunk?
“Aha, very funny. I’m too tired for this prank, so I would appreciate it if you left the same way you came...” you point towards your window because there’s no way he came through the door. Putting down your blender because the guy looks pretty harmless despite his crazy blabbering, you move to go back to your bedroom.
“No, no, no, I can’t do that,” the boy, Taeyong as he introduced himself, appears in front of you within a second and grabs your shoulder as if he could shake some sense into you. He looks pretty desperate. “I can only get a new owner if I fulfill all wishes of yours. It was super stuffy in that box the last decade, you know.”
At that excuse you let out a laugh.
“You don’t even fit it the⎼”
“You were saying?” Taeyong is suddenly nowhere near ahead of you but instead a small creature, supposedly a dragon, in the size of your palm flies in front of your eye level. “It’s magic!”
Okay, now that sight makes you feel like it’s you who is drunk. Or worse.
“Am I dead?” you have to ask in a small, uncertain voice, trying to think back what could have happened. Maybe that explosion literally blew your apartment up? But it hurts when you pinch your arm and turning back into his human form, Taeyong wants to prove the very same thing. Not the hurting but the not dead part, obviously.
“No, you’re very much alive and a happy owner of a wish dragon. Not permanently, of course, but still,” he tells you as he drags you onto your couch in the living room. As if sitting down could help processing all this.
So you have a wish dragon in your home, a magical creature that can casually switch between its dragon and human form and he says you should wish for three things, so he could leave and you could go back to your old, boring life without magic and things that scare you to death at 11PM.
“Can I ask… why? Why me? I’m not really owner-material,” you whisper because heck yeah, you even managed to kill your cactus before. Taeyong purses his lips as he sits down, a hand at his chin.
“Well, it’s unusual indeed to have a peasant girl, no offence, as my owner but as far as I know, you and your friend asked for a sign that magic was real.”
Oh, you remember that, being so obsessed with shooting stars and other stuff like that, you two used Mark’s brother’s computer to browse the internet, trying to find evidence about all that. You were kids wanting to believe in a world beyond the one you knew. But...
“That was like 10 years ago,” you furrow your eyebrows, not getting the timing.
“Well, sorry, you weren’t put on the top of the Heaven wish list and the shipping from Shanghai to Vancouver isn’t the fastest either,” Taeyong shrugs as if it was supposed to be natural. As if that was the most unbelievable thing. Well, delivery services are sometimes a pain in the ass, that’s true but getting a wish delivered by Heaven was something you would have never thought of and it all drains down on you. Strangest realisation of your life.
“So… it’s all real,” you whisper ahead of yourself: magic, dragons and all that. You could basically see your old best friend��s I told you so smile and let out a soft chuckle. “I wish Mark could meet with you, too.”
At that the guy ahead of you claps his hands and rubs them together, creating the same purple smoke from before. You look at him alarmed.
“Your wish, my command,” Taeyong grins and lifts his hands and before you could make a sound of protest because gosh, you didn’t mean it literally, you feel the ground move under your feet and you’re falling, into the darkness but despite shutting your eyes automatically, fearing the impact of the crash, nothing comes. Only the smell of soy sauce in the air and warm sunshine on your skin… Wait, what?
Your eyelids fly open and you notice in shock that you’re not in your flat anymore, ready to sleep. Instead, you stand in the middle of a goddamn street somewhere in Korea based on the signs still in your PJ shorts and tee. Oh my gosh! You hide in an alley right away and yank the seemingly proud Taeyong with you.
“I didn’t tell you that I meant right now! I can’t meet Mark in my PJs and I need my phone and wallet to function anyways. Not to mention, I don’t speak Korean at all...” you ramble panicking, the realisation that you’re indeed on the other side of the Earth due to some magic is yet to register. But the awkwardness from the stares you have just gotten has already turned you bashful.
Listening to you, the wish dragon seems sheepish and slightly embarrassed as he scratched his nape, his colourful hair falling into his cast down eyes.
“Oh… sorry. I got so excited over the wish that I didn’t think about it! It’s been a while since I did teleport magic but hey, I still have it in me. Anyways, sorry. Phone and wallet, you said? Here you go,” he pulls out something from his pants which magically seems to be indeed your belongings. That definitely makes things earlier.
“Uhm, thanks. Where are we exactly?”
“Ah, well you mentioned your friend Mark Lee, so we’re here. Well, one bell away because I did remember that it’s rude to intrude other’s houses without permission first,” oh now, you know, you snicker internally and gulp because hell, even if you wanted to see Mark, you wouldn’t have thought that the meeting would come so soon. You didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself mentally.
“So… you’re telling me that this… is where Mark lives?” you point at the impressive apartment complex on the corner of the street but Taeyong shakes his head.
“Nope, This is where your Mark lives,” he says and before you could object about the ‘your’ part, the dragon points at the other side of the road at a luxurious house with a huge garden, basically a palace. Seeing the beautiful fountain, the modern and yet traditional Korean style building beyond the fences makes your jaw drop.
“Hahaha, alright for a magic dragon you must have made a mistake. There’s no way the Mark Lee I know lives here,” you look back at Taeyong finding it funny that the kid who used to wore his favourite tees until his mother basically threw them out would live at such a place.
“Mark Lee, korean name Minhyung, supposed to be 22 years old internationally soon. Bad eyesight, contagious laugh, clumsy but has surprisingly good reflexes, gets embarrassed easily. Sound familiar?” Taeyong crooks a brow at you as he reads the information off from a parchment he just took out of his pants. Everything he listed is just so Mark that you’re left in disbelief.
“Uuh… that sounds about right.”
“His father hit it big in 2016 with a tech company, their net worth has too many zeros to count,” Taeyong explains, seeing how surprised you were over the fact that he lived a lavish life like this. Not that he doesn’t deserve it! Mark is such a sweetheart, so of course, you would only want the best for him but as if half the world wasn’t enough, now you have another huge gap between you.
“Gosh, I really can’t believe this. How am I supposed to just ring the bell and say hello after so much time?” you sighed with your head in your hands. “Argh, I need to buy some clothes and change.”
Taeyong approves the idea based on how enthusiastically he hollers, you wonder why nobody on the street seems to pay no attention to him. Maybe only you see him, just more reason for you to be crazy.
“Good idea because we’re having dinner with Mark!”
“What?” you look up in shock, not following through. Taeyong grins down at you, flashing a giddy smile and with a twirl he’s changed from his baggy, casual clothes to something more chic but still laidback.
“Your wish was him meeting me, so I arranged everything. I can't meet him without you and the teapot there, you know,” he explains as if it was supposed to be obvious. You aren't ready yet though.
“You just want to eat all the fancy delicious food he has,” you squint at him suspiciously and the dragon stays silent, so you must be right. He laughs nervously.
“Maybe, but can you blame me? I haven’t had a feast since a literal decade!” he hollers and somehow you really cannot find it in yourself to be angry at him. You are in Seoul for god's sake after all and magic is real, you can put up with the inconvenience of buying clothes and making yourself look decent before dumping all this surprise on Mark.
An hour later you stand in front of the gates of the Lee mansion and nervously you wipe your sweating hands into your dress. You can totally do this, you just say hi to an old friend, it's not like you're afraid he wouldn't remember you, hah, of course not–
"Y/N!"
You whip your head at the call of your name to the source of that all too familiar voice. Sure it's deeper than you remember but there's no mistake in whose it is. Plus, who else would call your name in South Korea of all places.
"Mark, hey!" you wave the boy who just got out of one of the fanciest cars you've ever seen in your life. And yet, despite the Prada suit and expensive shoes, styled hair and Swiss watch on wrist, Mark Lee still has that goofy little smile and the doe eyes that used to make you weak in the knees. Hah, who are you kidding? They still do.
"Oh my god, dude, you… you got pretty," Mark jogs up to you and having no filter like always he blabbers immediately only to stutter as his ears turn red. It was so him talking before thinking, so you didn’t really mean to dwell on his words. Although you felt your cheeks dusted with pink soon enough. "I mean, it's really good to see you! I was so surprised to see your name in my calendar for today's dinner! You should have told me you were coming to Korea, I would have picked you up at the airport."
His calendar? Ah, of course, he must have been busy and all that. You wouldn’t have been surprised to see an assistant run after him at this point, so you wonder how your wish dragon magically put you onto his list of important people to meet. Gosh, it was so weird.
"Ah, I have a funny story about that…" you chuckled to yourself but before you could have get out anything, even a please, can we go to a more private place? Mark’s eyes zero on the guy next to you and his eyes grow comically wide.
"And uhm, who is your friend?" he points at Taeyong who waves him in exchange with a kilowatt smile. He looks back at you with his mouth agapé. "Oh my god, you came to invite me to your wedding?"
He says oh my god way too many times for an eloquent rich kid, he really is the Mark Lee you knew.
"No, never! I mean, of course, I would invite you but Taeyong and I– I literally met him on my way here," you explain hastily cursing yourself for the silly lie. You came to tell him the news not to try to make it believable.
“I heard there’s food,” the wish dragon pipes in very helpful and you shoot him a disapproving glance he doesn’t notice. Luckily, Mark doesn’t seem to mind.
“Oh, yeah, of course, dinner! Come on in, let’s get you two settled,” he grins albeit a bit awkwardly as he leads you through the gate after opening it with his card.
On the way through the very, very, very big garden, he’s chattering about how he misses the Vancouver weather, especially on humid, hot days like this and talks about how he thinks the fountain in their yard is a bit too much but his mom loved it and then before you know it, you sit by a huge dining table with fine food in front of you. Suddenly you can’t decide whether you're grateful for Taeyong’s shameless presence – he digs into the jjigae right away – because at least the situation isn’t awkward because of your silence or you’re annoyed by it because you must seem like a weirdo because of him. That’s why you decide to rip off the bandage and tell Mark as soon as the last maid has disappeared too.
“Okay, so actually I came here because I have a surprise,” you speak up, probably too serious because the boy almost chokes on his food due to how fast he turns his head towards you.
“More surprise?” he coughs out and you offer him a glass of water which he takes with a smile.
“You literally won’t believe this one!” you assure him and wait until he gulps down the drink. Only then you point to Taeyong and tell him that your childhood wish has come true.
Mark almost falls off his chair this time.
Not after you tell him that though. He laughs at that with that wheezing laugh of his as if you told the joke of the century then pats you on the shoulder murmuring That was a good one, bro and turning back to his food. But then you look at the magic dragon pointedly and Taeyong puts down his chopsticks with an exaggerated sign. Then he flexes his magic: turning into his dragon form among additional sparkles and Mark suddenly looks like he’s about to faint. He reaches out to tap on your shoulder while not taking his eyes off the wish dragon.
“Am I dreaming?” he whispers and honestly, you totally get his reaction while Taeyong mumbles something about ‘people these days not believing in dragons’ as he shows off all the things he could do: gift riches, make one stronger than they are, giving skills of whatever one wants. He starts rambling about how this one Chinese emperor became wealthy thanks to this, how that one actor in martial arts and all this before changing back to his human form and he continues eating his pasta like nothing ever happened.
“I can do this all day,” he shrugs as if he didn’t just perform the coolest magic tricks.
“This… this is the best thing ever!” Mark exclaims with those sparkles in his eyes you missed so much. He was always so excited about new things and it automatically makes you smile how he bombards Taeyong with million questions like: ‘So you are the wish dragon that grants wishes?’ or asking him about his scales, his unique color, how it feels to live in such a small teapot, how old he is and the dragon glows under all the attention. Can’t blame him but Mark has always been so curious about the world, it’s endearing.
“So your first wish was to meet me?” he turns to you after long minutes of interrogating Taeyong and suddenly, under the spotlight you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can feel yourself blushing because you didn’t necessarily mean to wish for that but it’s not like you’re regretting it, it’s just… you don’t want him to misunderstand.
“I thought you should meet him, too, after all the package was delivered for the two of us,” you look down, trying to sound nonchalant while picking your food, avoiding Mark’s gaze. No matter how open armed he welcomed you, you still aren’t convinced that it’s okay to be here because the more time you spend with him, the more you would like to stay a part of his life. “It’s just… I wasn’t really sure we could ever meet again. We didn’t keep contact after you left.”
With dropped shoulders, you try not to sound too downhearted because of what happened because you know all too well, it wasn’t his fault, it was a family decision and look at him, it did good for him! He seems happy, they live in a practically mansion but most importantly, he didn’t seem to change with the wealth. He might wear expensive clothes but under it all he’s still the boy with the most loveable smile.
“I… I was thinking about you a lot, I just thought you forgot about me,” Mark admits with a sheepish smile, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly. He really still is the same and it’s playing silly little games with your heart. If this was a cheesy Disney movie, a slow bgm would start to play as you look into each other but your moment is broken when Taeyong accidentally kicks into his chair as he stands up. At first he looks alarmed but then giggles.
“I will just… go. Don’t mind me,” he disappears like smoke with a wink, leaving you two alone at which Mark lets out a woah. You chuckle at his cute reaction, heart doing somersaults in your chest.
You thought it would be awkward, just the two of you alone after long years but Mark has this thing that he makes people feel comfortable around him, so it’s actually quite nice. You catch up on everything and anything that comes to your mind: old neighbours, studies, friends, what are you doing now and what would you like to do, too.
After finishing the delicious dinner, Mark offers a home tour which you would never refuse and you jaw drops at the huge crystal chandelier in their living room as well as their swimming pool but your favourite place in the whole mansion is Mark’s room because it’s just so him. You can’t describe it well but the moment you step inside, it feels like home. It’s cozy to the point it makes you want to cuddle a pillow. It has colours of pastels, a synthesizer here, a guitar there, posters of singers framed on his wall and vinyl records hanging down. His window has a view of sunset and Namsan above their green garden and although you haven’t been in Seoul before, you’re pretty sure it’s your favourite place in the whole damn city, too.
“Wait, there’s someone I would like you to meet,” Mark suddenly exclaims while you’re looking through his pictures and he pulls you out of his room, out of the house, into the garden: You giggle all the way as he’s being so secretive about it but then your steps halt unexpectedly and the hand you have in Mark’s yanks him back.
“Mark… why is there a tiger in your garden in the middle of Seoul?” you ask as quietly and as immobile as you can. You don’t want to attract the sleeping animal’s attention to yourself. But to your biggest surprise, the boy just laughs, his thumb caressing your skin soothingly.
“She’s Jasmine and she won’t hurt you,” he reassures you but needless to say, you’re not too calm and you’re pulled close to the wild animal that lifts its huge head towards you lazily. “She was abandoned by her mother as a cub and she was outcast in the zoo because she’s a bit sick, so she has always been weaker than her siblings. Dad made a donation and we have raised her since she was young.”
You hiss when Mark reaches out without fear but the tiger basically purrs as he strokes down his fur at the neck. You watch in awe as this big wild animal becomes a soft cat under the hands of Mark Lee. When the boy encourages you to pat her too, you hesitate but he promises you that it’s gonna be alright and you take a leap of faith.
“What’s her sickness?” you wonder aloud as your fingers get lost in the soft fur of the tiger. You hope she’s not in a lot of pain.
“It’s an immune system thing, not sure what exactly but she wouldn’t have survived this long in the wild,” the boy tells you and his mouth curls up in a smile when Jasmine licks your hand. It seems like you’re tiger-approved. You look into its warm brown eyes and your heart churns at the thought of her condition.
Mark tells you stories of Jasmine, about that one time she crashed his birthday cake or how much she likes to swim with him in their pool during summer and gosh, you could listen to him go on and on forever. You’re only reminded of the reality, that all this is just a possible one-time thing, a weekend getaway with magic when Taeyong shows up in swimwear, ready to crash in said pool.
“I guess he might have been bored in that teapot,” Mark laughs, not minding at all. He even offers you to join but you have a better idea.
“Taeyong, I have my second wish!” you call out for the wish dragon who’s suddenly much more excited about that than the water. He’s beside you in a moment, beaming and curious. You glance at Mark with a soft smile before looking at your personal genie confidently.
“I wish Jasmine would be healthy,” you whisper, playing with the tiger’s furry ears which she seems to enjoy. You were a little bit afraid the dragon would say it’s not possible, that he can’t cure sickness but to your relief, he just grins.
“Your wish, my command,” he nods and puts a hand over the animal. Nothing but a smoke of purple signals the magic being done but you believe in it and so does Mark by the looks of it. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes it gently.
“Thank you,” he smiles and you smile back. He used to be your best friend after all, it’s the least you can do for him.
Mark convinces you to stay the weekend and there’s no way you could tell no to him, not when he clears his schedule just for you. He never complains about how busy he must be working for his father’s business while being a music major at a local university. All he ever talks about is the places he wishes to show you and he takes you around Seoul as if he was your certificated tour guide. It’s lovely how enthusiastic he is about it while what really matters to you is the time you spend together. He makes sure you two take a million photos to remember by, Taeyong posing on half of them since he joins you on your little trips and sometimes it’s just the two of you watching the wish dragon being genuinely in awe by modern technology, 10 years is a long time after all.
On the last day before you have to go back to Vancouver (thanks to Taeyong’s kind offer to take you the same way you came back since he misunderstood you, you don’t have to sit through a 10+ hours flight and you have more time), Mark not only tries to make you breakfast despite having an in-house chef (his eggs are ugly as heck but you appreciate his efforts and can’t help but coo at his dreamy smile under that grey hoodie when you tell him it tastes yummy) but he also introduces you to his friends in Korea. Of course, they tease you (mostly Mark) about where he has been hiding you but it’s all chill and fun you’re not quite ready to say goodbye. But you should go because the more you stay, the more you don’t want to leave. You’re lucky enough for this chance to reunite with Mark but all good things end eventually.
“Let’s not disappear from each other’s life again, okay?” the boy grins at you as you’re ready to go, Taeyong already working on his magic.
“Yeah, let’s not,” you agree easily, looking forward to your video chatting and constant texting even if it’s from the two opposite ends of the Earth with a terrible time zone difference.
You glance at the wish dragon who’s drumming with his fingers while pursing his lips as if he was waiting for something and you let out a huff before working up the courage to actually do something about these feelings inside of you. You might have regretted not confessing in middle school, you have spent years wondering about the what ifs, so you don’t want to make the same mistake twice but still, you want to give Mark a chance to ignore it all if he wants to. So you step forward and wrap your hands around him as you hug him close. It’s obvious that your action takes him aback, he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands and his body tenses under you but it all melts as you say those words that have been threatening to fall from your lips all this time:
“I have missed you.” you confess, honest and based on the hitch in his breathing, Mark must be surprised. You can’t blame him though, you just wanted him to know. You step back with a weary smile, his big Bambi eyes on you but before he could say anything you nod at Taeyong and you feel yourself falling, purple fog pulling you in. A few moments later you’re back in Vancouver, in your apartment, without him.
The first few days pass in a blurr, you can still barely believe what just happened. Your weekend with Mark feels like a too good dream but Mark kept his side of promise and texted you almost immediately as you left. He sends you selfies, songs that remind him of you and you talk about your days like you never did before. Still, it feels like you’re dancing around certain topics which are basically the elephant in the room and maybe that’s why Taeyong tries to cheer you up in his own way. Though, he soon realizes that you not being happy isn’t the problem, you are happy, you just… miss Mark more than you ever did.
“Enough of moping, you still have a wish left!” Taeyong exclaims, throwing himself onto your bed. “Come on, close your eyes, imagine what you want the most in the world and make a wish!" he singsongs. However, before you could even just indulge him, your phone pings with a new notification.
fullsun00 tagged you in their post!
You click on it right away, wondering what Mark’s friend Donghyuck is doing online at 1AM. The uploaded post turns out to be a photo of you and Mark when you all hang out near Han river. You were too busy at the time laughing at how the boy almost lost his whole scoop of ice cream before he could have had a single bite to notice his smile while looking at you. Based on his caption Donghyuck apparently wasn’t.
fullsun00: just old friends, they say. friends my ass @buttercupyn @onyourm__ark
You click your tongue wondering what Mark thinks of the callout but you press like on the post anyways. You put your phone aside before you could see how his other friends join the teasing in the comment section.
“Actually, I do have my third wish,” you speak up as you turn to Taeyong before he could make a remark on your tinted cheeks.
You’ve been thinking a lot about it during the past days. You could wish for anything but you’re at a point of your life where no riches or fame would make you happier because you’re happy enough just the way it is. It might not be perfect but you don’t want to be selfish and you want to make decisions you won’t regret: like catching up with Mark, curing his tiger and bringing happiness into the life of somebody who only ever served other people in his life.
“Ooh, what is it?” Taeyong claps, giddy as if he was waiting for this to happen. He probably did.
“I wish you would go on a vacation and enjoy life,” you tell him but unlike his usual reaction, this time the dragon’s smile fades and he blinks at you, confused.
“You could ask for anything in the world and that’s what you want? Are you sure?” he furrows his brows, not quite believing your words but you just smile, knowingly.
“Yes, Taeyong, I’m sure.”
“Your wish, my command,” he bows with his hands put together and with a twirl suddenly he’s in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, looking as ready for a holiday as one can be. You chuckle and tell him to just go, you’ll be fine.
You’re fine, you really are. Life goes on, you study and work, you laugh with your friends, you video call with Mark regularly and his friends are regulars on your social media, too. It’s just sometimes the feeling of missing something hits you harder than other days. Especially when you’re looking through the pictures you have from your Seoul weekend.
“I wish you were here,” you whisper ahead of you at one particularly good photo of Mark and the sunset, smiling at you behind the camera. You miss his smile, the cute wrinkles around his eyes when he crunches his nose, the sound of his laughter, his hand on your wrist… you miss him.
Ding-dong.
You stand up startled at the sound of your flat’s bell, running to the door to open it even though you have no idea who it could be so early on a Saturday morning. Not having a better idea, you expect it to be either a neighbour of your landlord but on the other side of your doorstep stands a boy who you thought was a continent away. He’s dressed semi-casually this time, his shirt tucked in his jeans, hair lightly falling onto his forehead and a nervous smile on his thin lips.
“Mark! But I⎼ I don’t even have more wishes,” you blink, taken aback, looking around to look for Taeyong in case he came back. But your behaviour just manages to confuse Mark instead.
“What?”
“I just wished you were here,” you blurt out without thinking, your words only processing later in your brain and it’s then when heat creeps onto your cheeks. Mark tries to but can’t really hide his growing smile at that.
“Really? I’m glad then. I just took my new private plane on a test drive,” he says bashfully, a silly excuse for real.
“All the way to Vancouver?” you tease, watching Mark fumble with the hem of his shirt. Your heart beats overtime just because of the fact that he’s there.
“Well, what can I say? I did miss the weather here,” he plays along with a shrug but he’s more serious when he looks deep into your eye and adds: “And you left without letting me answer.”
Oh yes, you did. You were kind of afraid of his reaction but seeing how he was ready to travel across the world just to see you, maybe there’s no reason for you to be so afraid. It feels like deja vu but a reversed one in a way as Mark gently pulls you into a hug, his lips grazing your hair with a whisper that makes your heart skip a beat: “I have missed you too.”
You really wouldn’t wish for anything more.
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rich girl | m.
⟡ word count: 6,708.
⟡ genre: smut, a bit of angst if you squint.
⟡ contains: a blowjob, facefucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, copious use of petnames, just a whole lot of sin.
summary: wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.
a/n: this is a reupload because for some reason tumblr wasn’t showing me my own posts? anyways, sorry for the wait!! enjoy hehe.
your parents don’t like wonwoo.
even better – they don’t like the fact that you like him.
wonwoo isn’t supposed to be someone you like. he’s kind of foul-mouthed, awfully conceited, and he probably makes deals with the devil in his spare time. he likes to hang around those dimly lit corners at night, just outside the local shops, puffing from a cigarette beneath the dusty street light and chuckling amongst his friends. they all hang out together. they’re very tightknit in the way that they only meet on the corner to smoke and laugh and then head their separate ways when it gets late enough.
honestly, you didn’t think you were going to like wonwoo either. most friday nights you go out for drinks with the daughters of your mom’s friends. she’s a business lady, very professional, makes good money, and has the politeness and etiquette of a true monarch. her friends mirror her every quality, and so do their daughters. you like them, even when they snap at you to sit straighter or give you unnecessarily stern glances while you swallow your alcohol in inhumane gulps. they’re great, but they give you a headache.
also, they’re the only friends you have, even if they’re not very good ones. they once left you to get home by yourself when you got too “drunk” for their liking. not wanting to soil their sophisticated reputations, they literally abandoned you after your wobbly trip to the bathroom to fix your makeup. you came back to an empty table. when you left the bar, this unknown man tried to take you by the arm, promising that there was a telephone just around the corner for you to make a call. your cellphone was dead anyways.
“what the fuck are you doing?”
there was a deep, displeased voice that echoed from the street corner as the mystery man tugged you away. you couldn’t help but stumble in your saint laurent heels. they didn’t add much height, yet you felt as though you were walking on stilts. quickly, you made eye contact with wonwoo. he stepped away from the pole and removed the cigarette from between his bubblegum lips, just before he adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. the air was cold, so he wore a beanie that pulled his hair back.
the man stuttered in response. he attempted to configure a convincing statement, but wonwoo cut him off.
“do you know him?” wonwoo asked you directly. his friends were silent as they crowded the corner, but they looked ready to pounce.
“n-not re-really, no.” you fought to respond sluggishly.
wonwoo then narrowed his eyes at the man who was digging his nails into your skin.
“do you know her?” the man countered. he sounded almost petulant.
“no,” wonwoo admitted impassively, “but i’m not an idiot, and i’ve hung around here long enough to see my fair share of fucking weirdos. go slink back to the other side of the street before i shove my cigarette past your eye socket and into your cranium.”
honestly, wonwoo’s words almost turned you completely sober. the man looked like he wanted to argue, but his pathetic type doesn’t usually put up a fight when their plans are directly thwarted. he released you, and melted away into the night like a sad, shrinking shadow.
“do you need to use my phone?” wonwoo was already revealing it from his pocket.
you nodded. you knew your mother would explode into fumes if you called her at this hour, so you dialled the local taxi service and decided to wait right outside the bar. you wanted to thank wonwoo for intervening when he did. he didn’t necessarily look like a bad person, but his tainted mouth and snarky expressions didn’t exactly shift him into the light.
“thanks,” you told him as you handed over his phone, “i-i appreciate what you dd-did.”
wonwoo made the effort to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from your face.
“it’s fine,” he shrugged, “happens all the time. figured i’d just stand here and be useful i guess.”
so there is a reason you’re always at this corner.
that’s what you wanted to say, but you were too shy, too foggy, to articulate any other acknowledgement apart from a tight-lipped smile. since then, you knew wonwoo would be someone you liked.
wonwoo liked to call you a rich girl. it bothered you, mostly because it’s true. you wore diamonds in your ears, pricey jewels on your fingers, dressed in luxury outfits and designer products. you lived a lavish life because your parents were well off, but it’s not like you tried to rub it in everyone’s face. in fact, you were quite modest, and you only wore the jewelry because your mother never stopped draping you in it. after your first encounter with wonwoo outside the bar, you greeted him again on the street upon exiting the floral shop.
he was alone, not even smoking a cigarette, instead sucking on a vibrant, cherry red lollipop. you could smell its sugary coating the second you stood in front of him.
“hey, rich girl.” he nodded. “how’s life treating you?”
the only reason you approached him was out of gratitude. you had already thanked him for his intervention that one night, but you wanted to thank him again now that you weren’t intoxicated and cloudy in the head. notably, your expression soured at his words.
“rich girl? that’s not my name.”
wonwoo looked you up and down skeptically. his eyes were a strong, earthly shade of brown behind his glasses, but in that afternoon sunlight, they flared up slightly, and the colour was more molasses-like. thick and sweet.
“are you joking?” he seemed like he wanted to laugh, and swirled the lollipop to the opposite corner of his mouth. “babygirl, those heels you’re wearing are more than my rent.”
you didn’t know why, but you were transiently overwhelmed with the urge to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth right there on the corner. was that too soon? oh well. you already thought it. remembering you were supposed to feel disrespected at his comment, you crossed your arms, though it only accented the jaded bracelet your friend bought you as a birthday gift.
“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear anything you just said. i wanted to thank you for getting me out of that situation last week. i thought i should tell you again, now that i’m… well… sober, i guess i could say.”
you then swallowed tightly. “do you really stand there to stop creeps from taking advantage of people?”
wonwoo shrugged. he then tousled his hair, which had been flopping in multiple directions. it was on the longer side, and seemed to be the same colour as dark, silvery ashes, though the roots were pretty much black. his hair looked so soft and springy. you almost wanted to comb it down for him.
“i’m just at the right place at the right time.” he said.
what did that even mean? you simply accepted his response and pressed on.
“well, i wouldn’t mind repaying the favour one day. do you want a coffee or something?”
“no.” wonwoo replied sharply. “you could do me one better and slip me a couple hundred from your pretty bank account. i’m trying to get the local black tar heroin dealer off my back.”
you nearly choked.
“wha-what? are you… serious?”
wonwoo maintained his staid, emotionless expression, and you were really starting to believe that there was a black tar heroin dealer running rampant in the streets that might pop wonwoo if he didn’t pay him off. but then a gradual smile pulled up his lips, and you wanted to retract your entire offer.
“yes, it’s a joke. you’re too easy. the only drugs you’d find in this part of town is the ibuprofen for your grandma’s arthritis. you don’t get out much, do you, rich girl?”
you gaped widely at him.
“careful, baby,” he smirked, and he suddenly brought his hand out, raising your chin with his cold fingertips to close your mouth. “don’t breathe too much of this cheap air. it’s not filtered.”
in a bubbling, festering haze of anger, you snapped his hand away.
“for your information i—,”
abruptly, you heard your name echo from down the street. turning around, you watched your mother exit the floral shop, carrying a pale green wrapping of scarlet poinsettias. they were so huge that the petals almost covered her entire face. it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for you, especially when she was cloaked in the thick warmth of her sable fur coat. you sighed deeply and faced wonwoo again. he’d lost his lollipop, attempting to spark up a cigarette instead.
“aren’t these just gorgeous?” your mother swooned, running her fingers over the butter-soft petals. “they certainly cost a pretty penny to get such an exquisite arrangement, but i couldn’t help myself!”
you wanted to sink straight into the earth. wonwoo was looking between you in pure amusement as he crammed his lighter inside a pocket on his jeans. your mother didn’t even seem to notice him until he took his first puff, the distinct potency of the smoke making her nose scrunch.
“a-and who’s this, dear?” she couldn’t even mask her discomfort as she inquired you about wonwoo. at that point, you hadn’t even known his name yet.
“wonwoo,” he introduced himself, “a new friend of your daughter.”
“oh, how lovely,” she nodded at him while forcing a crooked grin. “honey,” she then placed her hand on your shoulder and spoke closely into your ear, “your father is parked down the street. we need to leave soon and get these out of the cold, so please finish your conversation quickly.”
as soon as she slipped past you and began striding swiftly toward the car, you could already taste the muddled defeat on your tongue. if you weren’t protruding the mirage of a spoilt rich girl then, you certainly were now. at least he didn’t blow any smoke into her face, though that didn’t diminish the fact you were going to receive a lengthy lecture in the car.
“why would you say we’re friends?” you scolded wonwoo.
“because you don’t have any.” he responded matter-of-factly while tapping some ash off his cigarette.
“that’s not true! what do you even know about me anyways, apart from that i’m rich.” you made sure to incorporate in-air quotations.
wonwoo pushed back the silver tresses dancing in front of his glasses, embracing the cool, afternoon current against his face.
“not a lot,” he admitted, “you come for drinks every few fridays. sit at the table looking like you hate your life and all the people in it. then you leave with your phony little rich clique.”
“not to be rude, wonwoo—” you almost wanted to laugh; you came here to thank him. now that ship had completely sailed— “but you’re kind of a dick.”
he then had the nerve to roll his eyes. “you’d drop to your knees and suck mine in a second, babygirl. now didn’t your mother say you should hurry up and get in the car? the princess can’t be out of the palace i’m guessing, especially not to talk to assholes on street corners.”
what else could you do apart from swallow your own frustration, bite your lip, and brush past him? there was nothing. it was too bitter to stand outside anyways. a strengthening winter wind was beginning to pick up from the north, the sting making your eyes water. at the same time, your cheeks were hot metal. if no one were on that street, you certainly would have taken him right into your mouth and sucked him dry. he was ridiculous and cruel, but you loved the unhinged nature he unearthed in you. it was liberating in a sense.
you wondered what would become of your relationship.
“where did you say you were going again?”
you looked up from the porcelain dinner plate, in which you’d been picking at the last few crumbs of your wine reduction pineapple cake. it wasn’t your favourite dessert, though you always finished every meal out of respect for the family’s personal chef. you saw your father reach for his water glass. he took a long sip and eyed you over the candlelight and scarlet poinsettias. it was in a way that was completely and unabashedly suspicious.
“ester and i are going to the jewellers to get a custom necklace as aria’s christmas gift. i told you like five times already.”
of course, that was a gigantic lie. you and ester had already gotten the precious necklace last week, you just needed a reasonable excuse.
“and you’re coming straight home, correct?” his voice was stern and unnegotiable.
“i always do.”
“not always.” your mother chipped in as she cut a piece of the glazed cake with her fork. “you’re not going to see that one character, are you?” she always called people with less fortune characters, like they weren’t even considered to be real.
“who?” you acted clueless, and poured yourself more of the sugary, pink lemonade.
“you know who,” there was already a note of displeasure in her voice, “that boy from the corner. the one who smokes. i wasn’t very impressed by his actions.”
you started to squeeze the white cloth across your lap. “he’s trying to quit. i’ve persuaded him.”
“he won’t do it,” your father shook his head, “and he’s not right for you. i don’t want you near him.”
“and that’s why you’re coming straight home after the jewellers.” your mother continued, not allowing you the breadth to speak.
this family couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you were tempted to scream. instead, you pushed out your chair and collected the utensils sitting on your placemat. a maid passing by had scrambled to assist you, though you told her thoughtfully that you could take care of yourself. in actuality, it was the perfect time to get going, just as you could feel the anger warm your own blood to a boiling crimson. you threw on a long peacoat, a spritz belonging to a vanilla perfume, and your saint laurent opyum heels.
“i’ll be home soon!” you shouted down the marbled corridor, but it was only your own voice that echoed back to you.
your knees were beginning to lose feeling from being pressed against the sponge-like carpet of wonwoo’s bedroom, and they would probably ache like hell whenever you came to your feet again, but for the time being, you really didn’t care. your hands were braced against wonwoo’s knees as his hand tangled possessively through your hair, each of his tugs causing your scalp to burn and tingle. you were crying. you loved to be used by him, and he loved using you. especially the warm inside of your slick mouth.
“ff-fuck, that’s it, babygirl, j-just let me fuck your pr-pretty fuckin’ face.” quickly heeding his words, wonwoo bucked his hips up in a sudden snap, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against your throat.
consequently, you gagged, and there were glossy trails of your own saliva uncomfortably pooling down your chin. he bucked up again, his fingers clasping your hair even tighter. you were struggling to breath around him, white, cottony spots blurring your vision while he forced you to take him even further. you were clutching onto his knees with enough strength to bruise his pale skin. but hearing his voice, lined with lust, heavy and laboured, how it hitched when everything felt too good; you were addicted to it.
“you’re so good at this—,” wonwoo grunted through his teeth upon jamming your head down again, “m’gonna cum down your f-fuckin’ throat, baby. be a good girl n’ m-make sure you swallow a-all of me, huh?”
you learned that wonwoo was really filthy. he didn’t have a preference for where he came, though you had to regulate his carelessness. if any of your clothes even got one rip, one pulled up thread, or god forbid a stupid ejaculation stain, your mother would put your head on a mahogany plaque. wonwoo always made fun of you for belonging to a rich family, having to act like the town’s local sweetheart because one wise crack might cost your parents a lost business partner. but you knew he loved it.
the elegant daughter of a rich heir running around with the outlandish punk? he adored it.
eventually, you had to come up for breath or else you would’ve fainted between his thighs. the air gushed into your lungs and coldly filled your chest. a string of your spit was connected from wonwoo’s flushed, hard cock to your wet lips. you could hardly discern anything that surrounded you. the oxygen had yet to thoroughly circulate and the tears were creating a thick blur. wonwoo started to stroke himself while you prepared to take him once more. the empty void in your mouth was a horrible feeling.
“you look like a fucking mess.” wonwoo grinned as he noted that your body was shaking. “am i being too rough with you, babygirl? should i just jack myself off and cum all over your face instead?”
“n-no,” you suckled in a half-hearted breath, “i-i can do it.”
wonwoo smirked. “you still want it down your throat?”
you could see him clearly now. his cheeks were tinted pink, and his eyes were impossibly dark, glittering in anticipation. without thinking, you nodded eagerly, knowing this was what you wanted. he then tapped his cock against your swollen lips, to which you opened up again and calmly took him as deep as you could. he watched your eyes glister with more tears before he started thrusting up into your mouth. his fingers were gentle. they brushed the stray spindles from your face, now destroyed by tears and drool.
“i’m surprised your tears aren’t pure gold,” he laughed, “i guess you aren’t so special.” your spine tingled as his hand crept back through your hair. “m’gonna make you cry even harder, baby.”
his grip had turned to solid iron against your scalp. you got less than a sliver to brace yourself for his unrelenting treatment, in which he pushed you straight down on his cock and kept your face right where he wanted it. with his hand against the back of your head, wonwoo snapped his hips upward, feeling you immediately gag in response. then, he unleashed on you, using your mouth as a mere fucktoy, getting all his pleasure’s worth from you in each of his hard thrusts. everything was so overwhelming and rapid.
wonwoo couldn’t help the mantra of guttural, taunt curses. he started to moan even, his deep voice cracking the second he felt his sticky cum start to abundantly spurt. without a warning, you struggled slightly to accept and swallow it, though wonwoo was intent on keeping you flush to his pelvis until every drop was polished off. he was still thrusting shallowly into your mouth, and you could feel his length gradually begin to soften. his release was warm, and it was similar to cream sliding down your throat.
after he removed himself from your mouth, he titled up your head by the chin.
“did you swallow it all yet?”
you shook your head. quickly, the side of your hot cheek was met with wonwoo’s hand. he’d given you a timid slap, one that wasn’t meant to hurt, but stung gingerly.
“i wanna see you swallow, babygirl.” he purred. “be good, won’t you?”
your tears were dribbling uncontrollably as you fully swallowed his seed. god, your throat felt like it was on fire. each muscle in your jaw was burning up ardently. your knees were so numb you didn’t even think you could stand. there wasn’t enough time for wonwoo to return the favour. you were sure he could smell the thick scent of your arousal, especially as it ruined your underwear and shone on your inner thighs.
but you didn’t care. having him use you for the night was enough.
“are you alright?” wonwoo asked, getting himself back in his pants.
you didn’t respond, just gripped onto his knee tightly and attempted to stand. your opyum heels were still on, and you nearly broke an ankle as the blood rushed into your legs. wonwoo stood also. he stabilized you by holding your shoulders, at least for a good minute. pulling back your sleeve, you rid the tears that stained your face with a quick wipe from your hand. you were going to have to be very speedy getting back to the house, unless you wanted your father to send the swat team after you.
“god,” you sighed with a raspy, dying voice, “i hate my life.”
wonwoo scoffed at you lightly.
“what lie did you tell them this time?”
you muttered, “i was going to the jewellers.”
“that’s a long time to be at the jewellers.”
“i know that,” you snapped quickly in response.
more tears pushed at your ducts. you couldn’t believe how unhappy you were, even despite having every material thing you could ever want. sometimes that particular thought would just pummel you out of nowhere and you’d fight back the urge to cry.
wonwoo’s hand cupped the side of your face. his thumb stroked gently beneath your eye and he leaned in to kiss your mouth softly. his tongue tasted like a cherry lollipop. he really was trying to quit smoking.
“what are you gonna do, babygirl?” wonwoo hummed, pressing his forehead against yours as he continued to brush your cheek.
you held his waist. “i dunno,” you croaked, “my parents don’t like you. my dad doesn’t want me near you.”
“then don’t tell him i fucked your face, princess. it’s easy.”
there was a puff of meek laughter in your chest. for a few more minutes, you let wonwoo hold you. it was the most comfortable and happy you’d felt all day. you were running short on time. the first thing you’d do when you get home would be to run a hot shower and most likely finger yourself while you thought about wonwoo’s cock lodged deep down your throat. maybe one day you’d really snap and stuff all your belongings in a suitcase and come live with him in the shitty scope of town.
but for now, that seemed unattainable.
you’d have to come up with another lie as to why you just spent two hours at the jewellers.
“the earrings were the most magnificent things i’d ever seen! i’m going to wear them for my modelling gig next month, in paris of course. i’ll even text you guys some photos of them when i get home. they have these little opal centres that absolutely sparkle.”
just one more word. if you had to listen to aria babble one more word about her modelling gig or her stupid opal earrings or her all-expense paid trip to paris then you might have to throw your glass of chardonnay in her face. those were the only three things she talked about. then the month would change and she’d have another three things to drive into the mud, yet everyone at the table ate up her words like they were a slice of chocolate cake. you were starting to develop a headache.
“that’s wonderful, aria!” ester was gleaming as she readjusted the strap on her pearl-white dress. you could just tell she was dying to incorporate tales of her own wealth into the conversation. “i can’t wait to see your modelling pictures. that reminds me, i still have some old videos from when i went parasailing in bali. do you guys wanna see them?”
everyone started crowding around ester’s side of the table, attempting to view the footage she was pulling up on her phone screen. however, you didn’t budge, and continued to stare with a dull look in your eyes out the bar’s front window. through the glass, you could see wonwoo standing at the street lamp with his friends, swirling around another lollipop from cheek to cheek. you wondered if it was cherry. his last flavour had been green apple. you tasted it on his tongue when he’d fucked you in the backseat of his car.
but that was a week ago.
“don’t you want to see?” ester was smiling at you.
winding your fingers around your thin wine glass, you shrugged. “i’ll pass.”
“suit yourself.” ester replied, and started to play her first video.
you hated everything about this situation.
wonwoo was right. you really didn’t have any friends, and that became especially clear as you observed everyone at the opposite end of the table, adoring ester’s cute, ditsy little parasailing videos that her boyfriend took. you wished you liked the same things these girls did. your life would be one-hundred times more enjoyable if you just embraced your sumptuous blessings and shed a couple brain cells to be on the same level as them.
then again, you didn’t want to be exactly like them.
they left you to get home by yourself just because you drank too much. at a bar.
pressing the wine glass against your lips, you tilted your head back and easily gulped down the remaining chardonnay. it was a pleasant coolness that streamed down your throat, and you slammed the glass onto the table once it was emptied; even slouched back in your seat and didn’t bother patting your lipstick dry with a tissue. aria raised an eyebrow at you. she looked like she was itching to say something. you were in the mood for a challenge. if she was going to make a passive aggressive comment, it better be soon.
“i hope you have a designated driver.” she finally decided to chuckle.
you rolled your eyes. “shut up, aria.”
ester and her friends immediately looked up from the phone.
“excuse me?” aria replied while tucking a strand of her behind her ear. she seemed a bit baffled by your sudden disdain. “i don’t believe i’ve ever heard you speak like that.”
you were beyond a point of caring. “what are you gonna do then? tattletale on me? you’re such a fake.”
“that’s way out of line.” ester intervened, staring you down intensely. “why are you acting like this?”
“whatever.” you stood up from the chair and reached for your coin purse, revealing a wadded clump of cash that you slapped on the lacquered table. admittedly, the alcohol concocted with your frustration (not to mention being around wonwoo’s snide personality) had quite the effect on your behaviour. if you never had to see these girls again, it would be too soon. you couldn’t believe that you’d even went through the effort of buying aria a christmas present. the only thing she gifted you was a card with her signature on it.
like that was fucking useful.
“i think you need to leave.” ester announced like you weren’t already gathering your things.
“exactly.” you falsely commended her.
she probably had a pea-sized diamond in her skull instead of an actual brain. “i’m leaving now before you guys get the chance to ditch me. don’t worry about it though. i can actually walk myself out this time.”
if only you had a camera ready to capture their gobsmacked expressions. it would have been embarrassingly laughable. you flicked past them toward the door and pushed into the nighttime air, which was crisp and wonderfully cold to your warmed flesh. you felt powerful for summoning the courage to break ties with them, and yet, at the same time, you found that you were on the verge of tears. they deserved to have their toxic behaviour thrown back in their face. it was just that you felt a bit broken.
now you truthfully were alone. well – apart from wonwoo.
you approached him as he stood at the corner, still suckling on his lollipop. him and his friends were in the midst of a humorous conversation when you tapped on wonwoo’s hard shoulder. you always wondered what they spoke about. it always seemed more interesting than the lifeless talk you once endured inside the bar. he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you, though he did look with concern at the watery film across your eyes. you could smell the sweetness of his lollipop; it had to be strawberry.
“are you okay?” wonwoo asked, his breath forming wispy cotton against the dark sky.
you ignored his question. “i want to go back to your place.” you told him.
“now?” he raised his eyebrow.
“yes. now would be good. i’ve just been thinking, and i really want you to eat me out.”
you didn’t care if his friends overheard. apparently, wonwoo didn’t care either. he smirked at you and licked his lips, though there remained a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. you had yet to answer his initial question. from inside the bar, you knew those girls were staring at you, watching you talk to wonwoo.
they were definitely going to tattle to your parents.
your fingers clawed mercilessly over the bed, practically uprooting the linens tucked beneath the mattress as wonwoo kept your thighs tightly locked apart. everything felt so dense, so hot, like the universe was pushing down on your chest and igniting flame inside of your body. you lifted your head off his pillow, only capturing a mere glimpse of his pink tongue gliding past your slit, the muscle coated purely in your arousal. he started to fuck you with his tongue, digging it as deep as he could within your heat.
unabashedly, you moaned, extremely loud and most likely disturbing everyone in his apartment complex. everything about the technicality and purpose of his movements was pushing you toward a climax that would be unlike any other. he was so impatient to get a taste of you that he hadn’t even taken your skirt off, instead bunching the pleated material up against your stomach while your underwear were thrown to the floor. suddenly, you were gasping, and your head collapsed back to the pillow.
wonwoo had managed to wriggle his hand between your thighs. as he ran his tongue in hot, fervent licks against your needy clit, he pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open.
“ffuh-fuck, wonwoo!” you wailed, your hand grasping at his soft hair to keep his tongue against you. “it fe-feels s-so … s-so fucking go-good!”
he’d been taking his sweet time in building up your climax. you allowed him to have his way with you, since he knew how to work your body as though he were magic. his fingers started to curl. it didn’t take him long before they were hitching up into that one golden spot, the one that caused the entire room to whirl. you could tell that he was smiling. he began to messily circle his tongue around your clit. the sensation of the warm, wet muscle pleasuring your most sensitive region was leaving you breathless.
“c’mon, babygirl,” wonwoo mumbled against your core, his fingers thrusting up heavily and abusing that spot inside of you, “you gonna let go and let me taste your cum? you’re fucking dripping all over the bed.”
there was a glimmer of drool leaking from the edge of your mouth. you were so blissed out and crammed with euphoria that you could hardly articulate a response. wonwoo wasn’t giving you much of a chance either. he started a brisk pace rubbing his tongue against your clit, and then he closed his plump lips around you to better flick it with the pink muscle. his bicep was probably burning as he slammed his fingers deep into your heat, making you squelch. your slick had thoroughly soaked the sheets beneath you.
“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted, arching your chest into the air, “i-it’s s-so much, w-wonwoo—m’gonna—nngh—m’gonna cc-cum!”
wonwoo kept your hips pressed firmly to the mattress with one arm as your pleasure exploded. the tears easily streamed down your flustered, glossy face as this extreme contraction passed through you. it was incredibly wet, too wet, and you knew exactly what had happened as wonwoo pulled out his glistening fingers and completely buried his face between your thighs. god, it was fucking embarrassing. you would have curled away from him if wonwoo wasn’t so persistent. he kept licking at you, hard and fast.
at that point, your tears were no longer tiny beads. the sensitivity had left your nerves completely raw, and you sobbed helplessly as wonwoo continued to eat you out. his tongue felt like it was lapping everywhere, impatient and hungry. you tried to pull him away by dishevelled hair, but he swatted your hand back and bit down softly on your swollen clit. before you even knew what was happening, wonwoo had somehow forced your body into another orgasm. his tongue was inside of you as the second wave hit.
“pl-please,” you whimpered in utter fragility, the mixture of pleasure and pain becoming too overwhelming as wonwoo attempted to lick you clean, “pl-please, wonwoo… i-it huh-hurts..”
he chuckled against your sore flesh warmly. “are you sure you’re done, baby? bet i could make you squirt again if i was real gentle.”
“i-i don’t want to talk about it…” you said shakily. honestly, you didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling that much stimulation and pleasure. it was cosmic.
“awe, don’t be embarrassed,” wonwoo hummed, “you have no idea how fucking hot that was.”
“i don’t want to know.” you sighed.
wonwoo scoffed innocuously. he pecked the inside of your thigh, then each hip bone, before he crawled overtop of you and let you taste your own sweetness off his tongue. you spent a few minutes idly making out, smearing saliva over each other’s flushed lips, running your hands up and down his broad, hard chest, leaving scarlet rivulets along his biceps. wonwoo began teasing his fingers against your slit again, and you gasped into the kiss as his finger sunk into you, slowly, deeply.
“what’s wrong?” wonwoo asked while pumping the digit at a gentle pace.
“what do you mean?” you squeaked, staring into his brown eyes tinged with his earlier concern.
“you know what i mean,” wonwoo hummed, “why were you about to cry outside the bar? what happened?”
“are you sure we should discuss this while you’re fingering me?”
“baby, just tell me.” wonwoo urged with a comforting tone in his voice. he started to massage his thumb over your clit, and your entire body jolted.
you sniffled. “i-i just, i— i kind of cut ties with my friends. a-and i’m glad i did it but now i’m just gonna be even more a-alone.”
“of course not,” wonwoo shook his head, “you have me.”
“are you sure?”
slight amusement and shock coloured wonwoo’s face. he pulled his hand away from your core and looked like he wanted to laugh. you couldn’t blame him, but you also couldn’t help your insecurity.
“i’m sure, baby.” he told you firmly. “i’ll always be here for you. i promise.”
you smiled up at him, feeling your heart start to soften.
“can we take a shower?” you then proposed. “i want to get these tears off my face before they dry.”
while wonwoo was busy getting the water running inside the bathroom, you noticed your phone start to glow and vibrate on his nightstand. it was your mother’s number on the screen. taking a long, slow breath, you flipped your phone upside down and ignored the call. it was a risky move, but it felt almost healing in a sense to turn away from the stress in your life. instead, you focused on what mattered in the moment.
wonwoo joined you in the shower, the water gliding in silk-like pathways around his lean muscle and smooth skin. he pushed back his wet hair, sparkling droplets sticking heavy to his eyelashes. he pressed you against the tiles, and their icy touch sent a shiver up your spine. in the midst of the steam and heat, he was kissing you again, suckling softly on your tongue and squeezing your breasts in his hands. his aching length, hard and heavy, brushed between your thighs, to which your palm started to glide up his shaft.
he smiled against your mouth, “you want my cock inside you, babygirl?”
the fire slowly rebuilt itself from the embers in your stomach.
“yes please.” you lilted innocently.
wonwoo decided to press your front against the glass wall instead of the tile. his lips were leaving drifting pecks up your shoulder blade, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. a rough, deep groan filled your ear as wonwoo rubbed his cock between your folds, allowing your arousal to coat him generously. however, you were yearning to feel how he filled you entirely, until you could feel him nestled right to the brink. wriggling your hips against him, it was your non-verbal cue for him to start sliding in.
he cupped your breasts in his hands, whispering into your ear, “how should i fuck you, baby? do you want it hard?”
as impatient as you were, there was something about the atmosphere that told you to prolong your intimacy. “n-no,” you mumbled as the fog swathed around you, “s-slow, i want to feel you.”
your moan was almost louder than the water spraying against the tiles when wonwoo started to push inside of you. once he was buried as far as could fit, he started to grind into you, extending his pace so that you could truly feel his every inch and vein. his fingers were massaging your chest, the round flesh almost like velvet to his touch. everything about your body was endearingly soft and warm. he loved it.
“does it feel good, babygirl?” wonwoo purred. he was situated at such a pleasurable depth inside you that you felt like complete gelatine. he thrust into you a little harder, but it was enough to make you cry.
“s-so good,” you stuttered, licking the water off your lips. “do i feel good t-too?”
wonwoo smirked. he moved his hips at a shallow pace. “mmhm. you’re so tight and warm around me, baby. feels so perfect. how pretty do you think your pussy would look with my cum dripping out of it? should we try it?”
you pushed yourself back against his pelvis, “fill me up, wonwoo, please.”
“of course,” he grinned, and slowly dipped a hand down your stomach until you felt him begin to rub soft circles into your clit.
“let’s see how much you can take, babygirl.”
you were exhausted. you were sore. but you felt safe. you made an audacious decision and decided to spend the night at wonwoo’s rather than going home, where you knew you’d be greeted by an equally displeased mother and father that aria had snitched to. it was the first time you’d gone to bed without wearing pyjamas that weren’t expensive, pink satin. you were clad in nothing but one of wonwoo’s old t-shirts. he tried to give you one that didn’t still carry the scent of stale cigarette smoke.
his arm was around your waist, your spine resting comfortably against his chest while you lay together beneath the bedsheets. the sheet that was stained in your arousal had been tossed in the laundry hamper. you knew wonwoo would never stop teasing you about it. anyways, life felt different at his apartment; in fact, it felt better, especially when wonwoo kissed your temple before shutting off the light. your wealth had never been a defining factor in your personality, but it did make you consistently miserable.
that night, it was just you and a boy, a boy who you were quite positively in love with. maybe he loved you too. you weren’t completely certain yet, and you didn’t want to rush anything; however, you felt fairly confident his heart was likewise when he buried his face into your neck and wished you goodnight in his low, sleepy voice.
whatever your parents had to say, you’d find out tomorrow morning.
right now, you weren’t the rich girl, but a happy girl, and that mattered more to you than anything else.
#wonwoo smut#seventeen smut#seventeen scenarios#wonwoo scenarios#jeon wonwoo#svt smut#svt fanfic#seventeen imagines
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can i request a soft fluffy little drabble of fanboy yoongi and idol reader?
soundcloud rapper meets professional idol- myg
it’s #starrieselcaday !! where everyone posts their selfie in the hopes of their bias replying to them! alternatively, yoongi is a shy fanboy and you’re an idol with an undercover account where you stalk your fans.
masterlist
listen
min yoongi is not a liar
HOWEVER, if you happen to ask him what kind of music he likes to listen to..... that’s a rare exception.
he’ll probably reply by rattling off some of his favourite hip-hop rappers etc etc (emInEM!!! KANYE!! THE CLASSICS!!!!! beyonce)
which,, is not entirely a lie, okay?? he DOES listen to those artists! but his greatest guilty pleasure is this ... idolgirlgroup UGH he feels lame just thinking about it.
not that it’s a pathetic thing, ya know? it’s just that he’s ~min yoongi~ jin literally told him once that he would be re-born as a rock and he AGREES WITH THAT.
it’s not like he’s ashamed of saying he’s a fan of your group, it’s just that it’s not expected of the stone-cold soundcloud-rapper yoongi.
but secretly, he winds down by watching your fancams, mass streaming your albums, screaming about your debut anniversary, the list goes on... the day in a stans life never ENDS GOD.
he literally screamed at his laptop and bursted into tears for a good 4 hours your last comeback.
he even got jimin and namjoon to end up liking his ult group!!!
seokjin refuses to ‘lower himself’ to their standards but everyone knows he secretly has all of your albums downloaded
the group (lomls) called dreamcloud consists of five members- yoona, jisoo, lia, chae, and y/n. the fandom name is called starrie, even though nobody knows how that came about??
(his favourite single is their newest song called cloud 9)
three guesses to who’s his bias gO!!
if you guessed y/n congrats you’re CORRECT. other stans say that the bias they started with is NEVER the bias they have no but you’ve been yoongle’s ult bias since debut and it’ll forever be that way!!!
he’s been bias wrecked approx. 30 times but we don’t talk about that.
like lia is THIS close to stealing the bias spot but you’ll always have such a special place in his heart :,-)
which is why when he sees the hashtag #starrieselcaday which was trended by you when you tweeted out a selca he POUNCES ON THE CHANCE TO POST A SELCA
on his secret fan account of course.
oh boy he really hopes nobody from uni is going to see this..,,, he’ll deal with it if the time comes.
he definitely spends 30 minutes with jimin trying to figure out where the best lighting in the dorm is and then an additional 30 minutes just taking the damn picture.
he ends up taking the photo in his black bucket hat (the e-boy one) with this slightly awkward half smile plastered on his face.
he kinda hates it but it was also the best shot out of the 2000 he just took so that one it is!! (he’s also pretty tired of jimin telling him to ‘pOSE’)
he just posts it on his twitter with nothing but the #starrieselcaday hashtag. it’s the first time he’s participated in these so he’s kinda ~nervous~ but whaddya know!!
other starries are already hyping him up in his mentions!! [proud tears] gosh he loves this fandom so freaking much. he links jimin’s selca below his, telling his followers to go hype jimin’s picture too.
it’s slightly concerning how big of a following yoongi has on his stan account.
#STARRIESELCADAY! ✨@/liabby
replying to @/ynssuga
you look so cute suga!!!! ur bucket hat omg where did you get it send LINKS!!!
dreamcloud D-14!!! 🍬@/starriejoonn
replying to @/ynssuga
so THIS is what you spent an hour doing with jimin. owo looking good my friend! 😎
jade 💜ot5 @/vitaminchae
replying to @/ynssuga
omg you did #starrieselcaday !!! congrats on 50k by the way!! we’re all anticipating your album review (keysmashes) <3
awhhhh
how cute!
see? best fandom.
honestly he wasn’t even aware that he hit 50 thousand on his stan account what the FRICK that’s insane!!
the only thing he does on this stupid account is give album reviews (which are quite useless at this point it’s always a 10/10) and scream about the comeback stages.
occasionally he’ll go on to remind his fellow starries to drink water and take breaks from streaming- because contrary to popular belief he can be soft.
☁️STREAM #CLOUD9 ☁️@/yoonsoohearteu
replying to @/ynssuga
hOOOOOOOTTTT!! woohoo!! why didn’t you tell us you were attractive irl?? 👀 ru single bby? 👉👈
yoongi snorts reading that comment, replying to tell @/yoonsoohearteu that he’s far from attractive and is unfortunately, single. it’s all y/n’s fault, he jokes in his reply. dreamcloud has raised his standards too much.
y/n ✅@/dreamcloudy/n_official
replying to @/ynssuga
💞💞💞
[blink]
[bliiiink]
[?????????]
wut.
are his eyes deceiving him? WHAT?
yoongi checks again, and sure enough, the little checkmark verifying your OFFICIAL twitter account lays next to your handle,.,, WHICH IS BELOW HIS POST.
he takes a deep breath, trying to recall whatever breathing exercise his therapist taught him just last week.
it doesn’t work.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- “
💤☁️.
“y/n!“ yoona calls from the kitchen. in your large XL hoodie, you step in, humming a ‘hmm?’ to your leader. all the other girls are camped out in their rooms, preparing for the comeback coming soon.
yoona’s scrolling on her phone with a confused look on her face.
“why is hashtag starrie-selca-day trending? did you tweet something or was it chae?“ she asks, and you hide a slight smile.
“oh yeah,“ you reply. “i tweeted my selca this morning. you guys can tweet out yours too.“
yoona raises her eyebrow. “okay,” she asks. “just be careful.” you blink.
“be careful... of?“
“make sure the agency doesn’t find out about your secret account you use to stalk the starries.“ you sputter, spitting out a random excuse.
“you’re too obvious these days, y/n,“ yoona says, not unkindly. “i figured that your comment wasn’t intentional... was it on that guy suga’s page? anyways, your official account didn’t reply to any other fan’s selcas, so maybe you should comment on some other fans twitter accounts too.“
huh?
what on earth is she talking about- OH NO.
you scramble to take your phone out, immediately clicking into your twitter notifications.
you groan when you see ‘y/nsuga’ is already trending. you should’ve double checked which account you were on before commenting, for god’s sakes!
this is amateur stuff, you scold yourself. how could you forget?
like yoona said, you begin commenting on other selcas, so it doesn’t look like you’re singling just one fan out.
(except you kind of already did that.)
yoona stifles a laugh. “so,” she says. “we’re not going to talk about how you commented three heart emojis on this guy’s selca on your secret account... right?”
your cheeks heat up. “please don’t tell the other girls.” you plead. jisoo unnie would never let you live this down.
it’s not your fault some of your fans are. like, really cute, okay?
this guy- ‘suga’. well, that’s the name you’ve been calling him in your head- since it’s the alias he goes by on twitter.
he was one of the first fan accounts opened on twitter- just when you debuted! he posts these detailed and insightful reviews every time you have new music, and he’s always been such a loyal fan!
(plus, it’s super fun seeing him shut down your haters!! he always comes up with the most awesome comebacks)
((your personal favourite is ‘y/n could single handedly step on you with the heel of her five inch stilettos while she continues to do the choreography perfectly. shut your bitchass mouth up’))
so is it a crime to check up on a devoted fan’s twitter page every once in a while... on your secret twitter account??
he still hasn’t replied to your comment, which you’re slightly down about. he’s just busy, you reason with yourself. it’s not like you can expect his world to revolve around you, you scold.
yoona nonchalantly waves her hand. “i already screenshotted the evidence though, so that’s going in my y/n blackmail folder.”
you let out a multitude of complaints, noises that mostly consist of various versions of ‘fuck you uwu’
at least it was yoona who found out first. she’s the most gentle in the group... even though she has blackmail folders for each of the members.
you reassure yourself by telling yourself that she’d never actually use the folders for real blackmail purposes.... probably.
looking down at your phone, you frown.
cute boy suga still hasn’t replied.
you don’t know it, but the only reason why is because he’s still screaming.
“AHHHHLHFH*HDFGLHHHHH?&$5FLIQJARSODFILJQWOI?!!!?!?!!”
#bts fanfiction#bts suga#min yoongi#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#bts scenario#bts au#idol! reader#idol! au#bts imagine#bts fic recs#bts edits#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi crack#yoongi fanfiction#btsgif#yoongi fic
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Misery Loves Company (Clay Bidwell x Reader)
Summary: After leaving his hometown and all of its chaos, Clay Bidwell meets the reader at a strange bar and the two of them have a much-needed break from their troubles.
Word Count: 2,262
Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (allusions to suicide), and some references to the film Clay Pigeons
If there was one thing that Clay Bidwell could change, it would be his decision to trust Lester Long. I mean, what the hell was he thinking, trusting some new guy in town with a big old grin to keep him safe. That guy's self-appointed nickname said it all: Lester the Molester. What a son of a bitch. What a smiling, cheery, fucking son of a bitch.
He should've seen something wrong when Lester opened his mouth and laughed like a goddamn coyote. He should've seen something wrong when Lester kept a cheery spirit around a corpse floating around in a river. Who in their right mind wouldn't be freaked out by something so creepy? Clay himself vomited at the sight, way before he could even catch any of the stench from the rotting body.
Until his best friend Earl shot himself in front of Clay, he'd never even seen a dead person before. Even though he was from a town so small that everyone knew everyone else and their business, death was always something so…covert. It was a covered-up thing, something private. The family would have their little funeral, and next week the obituary would show up in the newspapers. No one ever really kept the casket open, and it was just assumed that the deceased were off to a better place.
It turned out Earl was just the first one in a morbid domino effect. Next, Clay's ex-girlfriend was shot dead…while she was fooling around with Clay. Finally, Earl's widow, who was fooling around with Clay before Earl died, was found dead in her own home.
And of course, Clay was found to be the common thread linking all of those murders. The cops tried to string together a bunch of bullshit and frame him - Clay fucking Bidwell - as some serial killer with women issues or something like that. He could still hear Agent Shelby interrogating him. "You're dating one victim, you're having an affair with another, and you find the body of the third. Kind of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" The agents even came into his house one night and conducted some stupid raid for no reason. Right, they thought he had weapons. But hunting was a tradition in his hometown; almost every guy his age had at least one shot gun in their house, even if it was their dad's or uncle's.
So much for having faith in law enforcement to punish the guilty.
Thank goodness they finally came to their senses and went after Lester Long instead. Clay didn't remember much after watching the police cars chase after Lester. All he wanted to do at that time was leave. Leave this small town, and never look back.
So he did just that. As soon as the sirens began to quiet down, Clay jumped into his creaky pick-up truck, stepped on the gas and drove as far from town as possible. He didn't know where he was going, what direction, what road, or any of that shit. All he knew was that he was leaving the town that had nothing left for him anymore. He drove and drove for hours until the sun went down.
It was a long journey, and Clay found himself thanking his past self for leaving a few beers in the passenger seat. They were all empty by the time that twilight turned into night. Though, if Clay was being honest to himself, it probably wouldn't be enough alcohol for him to forget about spending a night in jail on false accusation, or erase all the death he'd seen.
With some of the money left in his glovebox, he pulled over at some gas station and filled up the tank. According to a sign on the road, he was about fifty miles from some city called Great Falls. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, Clay thought to himself as he held the diesel nozzle, to try his luck in a big city. He heard stories about people having their own rags-to-riches story by leaving their small hometowns behind for busier places. And if nothing else, it'd be great to try and drive around the state just for the hell of it.
With a sigh, Clay watched as the meter reached its limit and the gasoline stopped flowing through the nozzle. The price wasn't all that bad for its mediocre quality, though it probably meant that Clay would have to sleep in his car tonight. It was hard to gauge the quality of the motels around this unfamiliar place, but he was sure that it would cost a lot more than whatever spare change Clay had left. Better to buy a drink, and get some sleep in the backseat, than to risk sleeping at some flea-infested room and wake up to a missing truck.
He parked the truck close to a neon sign - probably some saloon founded by a jaded business fellow - and walked inside. The place wasn't too crowded, with a few heads turning as soon as Clay walked in. Some of the guys were sitting around a table playing cards, and a lot of the customers seemed like they were regular patrons. Were they outlaws? Probably not. Based on the kinds of guys Clay saw in the saloon he used to go to, those guys drinking were probably just looking for an escape from their deadbeat jobs.
He almost smiled a little when he saw a pool table in the center, though it was strange to him that there was no one playing at the moment. Nevertheless, it reminded him of the good days when Earl and him would perfect their skills. By the time Clay turned nineteen, he was one of the best players in town. If he wasn't so blue right now, he'd be willing to show this new place a trick or two.
Clay looked out the window for a moment as he lit a cigarette. No cops in sight tonight? Good.
Taking a seat at the bar, he continued to people-watch until the bartender came up to him and asked for his order. Just as Clay told the bartender the kind of beer he wanted, you walked right inside and sat next to him.
While the bartender went behind to get the cold bottle, Clay looked you up and down, his lip curling upwards into a tiny boyish smirk. Maybe it was the after-effect of the alcohol from this afternoon, but you looked gorgeous to him…and almost a little mysterious, but also approachable. And you definitely looked nothing like the other customers in the saloon. Maybe you didn't come here often, or you were from another town, just like him.
"Hi."
"Oh…um, hi," Clay stammered, realizing you'd caught him staring. "Um…"
Taking control of the conversation, you introduced yourself to him and reached out to shake his hand. "How do you do?"
"I'm fine. You come here often?"
"Not like this." You shook your head and chuckled to yourself before ordering a drink for yourself. Clay sipped from his beer, listening to you tell him that you used to come here with a partner, on a Friday night after the two of you were done with work. "We had a lot of fun," you told him. "But things eventually just went south, we started fighting, and…I found them in bed with someone they'd been seeing on the side. So I packed my things and left…straight here. My stuff is literally sitting in my car right now."
"I'm sorry," you apologized casually, taking your drink. "I just met you. I don't even know your name and I'm already telling you about my break-up."
"It's fine," he replied with a crooked smile. "I'm Clay, by the way."
"So what brings you here, Clay?"
"Um…just, rough times. Needed to leave." He lied, not wanting to talk much about the things that really forced him here. "Sorry about your break-up. I know what it's like. It really sucks."
"To sucky lives and leaving shitty things behind." You toasted in a mock-celebratory tone, raising your drink and clinking it against his bottle. Clay's smile grew just a bit wider, and he even laughed a little.
The next hour felt like it passed by in the blink of an eye. Over the course of two beers (and who knows how many songs on the jukebox), Clay felt like he'd known you for years. Just by the way you talked about how you were almost done with school, and how much you hated your own little town just like he hated his…it was refreshing, to say the least. You seemed earnest, decent, and probably not tangled up in some kind of crime.
"Do you, by any chance, play?" He asked you after a bit of silence.
"Play what?"
"Um, pool." Clay pointed to the table at the center.
"No, never tried it before."
"I could…I could teach you if you like," he suggested. Now the beer was really taking his toll, making him want to show off a little for you.
"I'd love to learn."
You let him lead you towards the table, where the balls were already arranged for a new game. Clay was really friendly in teaching you the basics, on how to hold the pool stick (which was called a cue). He came up behind you, carefully guiding your hand to the right place on the stick and telling you to keep a good grip. Placing a hand over yours, Clay told you that a good shot involved getting the right angle. With another hand on your waist, he shifted you around nonchalantly so that you faced the right pockets of the table.
The alcohol was quite present in his breath while he spoke, but his voice…damn, you could listen to him talk all night. It was nice that you could get him out of his shell by agreeing to learn. And the way his hands felt on you was pretty nice. Eventually, you were able to make a few combination shots, and Clay was pleased.
"Damn, you're a fast learner."
"Thanks. You're a good teacher."
"Put enough quarters on a table like this one, I sure as hell have to be a pro." Clay bragged a little before the two of you laughed.
Suddenly, you put the stick down and walked closer to him with a smirk, not sure about what had gotten into you. "I…uh, I like the way you put your hands on me," you confessed in a whisper.
Catching your tone, he leaned against the table with a raised eyebrow "You did?"
You gave him a nod and mimicked his posture, leaning against the table as well. "I kinda like you, Clay."
"Yeah…I like you too." He goofily admitted, saying your name like it was something absolutely precious.
Making the first move, you gently pecked him on the cheek and ran your fingers through his messy, dark brown hair. A naughty glint in his green eyes, he took your gesture as encouragement…for something he'd shamelessly thought about since he led you over to the pool table. Boldly wrapping his arms around you, he crashed his lips into yours.
You moaned a little, surprised by how dizzying his kiss felt. "Take this…somewhere else?"
"Fuck, yeah."
The two of you made your way over to a slightly more private booth in the saloon, not wasting any time and continuing your make-out session. Clay didn't hesitate to pin you against the wall, bringing your leg up to get closer to you. Soon, his kisses grew sloppier and hungrier, covering your jawline and your neck. Right now, everything else seemed pretty much like a blur to him.
Kissing him back and lightly tugging at his hair, you painfully gasped his name the moment he got a bit too carried away and sucked at your collarbone. That was definitely going to leave a mark for the next morning…but it was totally worth it.
"Stop," you panted, breaking your lips away from his when you both needed air. "That was…that was...wow."
"Yeah, it really was." Clay agreed, his fingers still brushing your thigh. "You're really pretty. Like movie pretty."
"Maybe you're pretty drunk," you retorted. "A cute, pretty drunk who happens to be great at teaching pool."
"Maybe I'm drunk on you."
"What a line." Giggling, you smoothed your hair before going back to the bar, placing some change for the drink you had.
"You leaving already?" Clay followed you with a surprised and crestfallen expression.
You told him it was almost closing time, pointing out how empty the saloon had gotten since you arrived. "I'll tell you what, Clay." Taking a a pen lying around, you wrote your phone number on a napkin and handed it to him. "It's actually my friend's number, but they'll take a message. Besides, that's where I'm heading to stay until I can find my own place."
"That sounds great. I'll, uh, see you around."
"See you around. Thanks for a great night, Clay." You smiled, leaving him with one last kiss before walking out.
Clay took a long look at the napkin before folding it up and keeping it in his jeans pocket. Throwing some of his change on the bar, he left the bar and sat down in his truck. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the wheel and hoped he'd be sober enough to drive again tomorrow.
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UPDATED Reverse Crush Origins!
There were a couple problems with how I posted this originally, so after some character analysis I changed some stuff and I like it better now. I hope you guys do too!.
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“So, you’re friends with Chloe, huh?” The boy sitting next to him gave Adrien a bored, disapproving look. He was taken aback; was being Chloe’s friend a bad thing around here? He’d always assumed she must be popular at school. He looked around to see her and her friend Sabrina sticking a wad of chewing gum onto the seat across the aisle from his.
He stood up. “Hey! What’s that all about?” Adrien hated getting on her bad side, but this just seemed…gross.
“The brats that sat here yesterday need a little attitude adjustment. I’m just commanding a little bit of respect, that’s all.”
“Respect? Are you kidding me?” The demand came from a high, feminine voice behind Adrien. He turned and instinctively sank back into his seat. Two girls stood fuming in the doorway. The one with red and brown hair sent a murderous glare in Chloe’s direction, and her friend, an Asian girl with iridescent blue eyes and pigtails the color of midnight, stalked forward. “You know what, Chloe? Your attitude is the one that needs adjusting. I’m not putting up with your bullying anymore, whether it’s at me or Ivan or anybody else around here!”
“Ugh.” Chloe leaned dramatically toward Adrien. “You see, Adrikins, what I have to put up with in this place?”
Adrien couldn’t believe his ears.
The girl crossed her arms defiantly. “Don't you dare try to play the victim here. You're not going to scare me anymore, Chloe, so next time you try to pick on anyone in this school again - Ivan or Juleka or Mylene or anybody else - remember that from now on, you'll have to go through me first."
For a second Adrien swore he saw fear in Chloe's eyes. Then that nasty sneer was back. "Oh, please, who do you think you are, Duapin-Cheng? Nobody can grow a spine overnight, least of all you."
"You know what I think?” The girl took her friend by the hand and they parked themselves at the desk behind him. “Your gum, your seat. I’m taking my desk back.”
“WHAT? You can’t do that!”
“Actually, we can,” The other girl said. “After all, all that is necessary for the triumph of evil – ”
“ – is that good people do nothing.” They fist-bumped and the rest of the class laughed and cheered. Chloe sat down on the right side of the abandoned desk, leaving Sabrina to scoot as far away from the gum as she could.
Adrien blinked in wide-eyed amazement. He wasn't sure what exactly just happened, but he'd never seen anyone stand up for themself like that. Stand up for other people like that. This school was blessed with its own guardian angel. He would gladly go blind just to see her on a righteous warpath.
“Whoa,” Adrien’s desk mate said. “I’ve never seen Marinette shut her down like that.”
Marinette. That was her name. It made electricity arc through his fingertips and his heart pound. “She’s amazing,” he mused.
“You cannot be friends with both Chloe and Marinette, dude. They’re like, mortal enemies.”
Adrien sagged. “It’s just… Chloe’s the only friend I’ve ever had. I’ve known her since we were little kids. She’s abrasive, but…” He glanced at the guy, who gave him a single raised eyebrow. He sighed. “I had no idea she was this awful with other people.”
Several beats of silence passed where Adrien just stared forlornly at the wood in front of him. The next words he heard surprised him.
“I’m Nino, and it’s time for you to make some new friends, dude.” Nino offered Adrien a hand. Smiling, he shook it.
-
“Leave it to the professionals, you already failed once.”
Marinette’s breath hitched. She turned around to look at Stoneheart still holding Mylene in his fist. “He’s right, you know. If I’d captured his akuma in the first place, none of this would’ve happened! I knew I wasn’t the right person for this job.”
“No.” Marinette looked up at Chat Noir. “He’s wrong, because without you, she’d no longer be here. And without us, none of these people stand a chance. We’ll prove that to them.”
She didn't know what to say. "I - "
He placed two gentle hands on her shoulders and bored into her with his bright green cat eyes. “I know how you feel, Ladybug. I'm scared of messing up too - I wasted my power yesterday and nearly blew the fight. But you and I are a team and I know we can do this together. Trust me, okay?”
Mari – Ladybug felt her face heat up. Chat Noir’s gaze was so sharp but so soft at the same time, like he could see into her soul without hurting her at all. She finally understood what the poets meant by 'the eyes are the windows to the soul;' Chat's exposed, gentle sincerity could have drowned her. She felt his support and his confidence flow into her body, making her feel like she could take on the entire world. When she spoke her voice cracked. “Oka – okay.”
She would have completely zoned out in his adorable jade eyes if it weren’t for Stoneheart’s grumbling roar from the Eiffel Tower.
Ladybug felt all gooey inside when Mylene gave Ivan a huge hug. “Aw, they’re so made for each other.”
“And they’re together now. All thanks to you, LB.” Chat Noir smiled that cute, playful little smile of his, and Ladybug kind of wanted to kiss it off his face. The thought surprised her and sent her heart thumping. She squeaked a little when he gently shoulder-bumped her. "That was an awesome speech. You've made everyone in Paris feel safe again after getting attacked by a freaking supervillain. I told you you could do it."
At his praise, Ladybug blushed so hard she felt sure her face now matched her suit. She was saved by Chat Noir's Miraculous beeping.
“Whoops, looks like we gotta split, see you next time, kitty!” She didn’t wait for his reaction to her word vomit before she swung away from him and over the rooftops. If this new fluttery feeling in her stomach was a crush it was going to be an unbearable one. She didn’t even know who Chat Noir was!
Marinette wished she could call Alya about this.
-
Adrien walked into class the next day. He paused at his seat, about to say hi to Marinette. She wasn’t looking at him, and he chickened out and sat down without a word. Nino looked between them and nudged him with his elbow.
“You should go talk to her.”
Adrien blushed. “What?”
Nino lowered his voice. “Marinette. If you like her, you should go for it.”
“But what do I say?”
“Just be yourself, man. She’s super easy to talk to, literally everyone likes her.”
Everyone? He glanced back behind him, where Marinette and Alya were laughing over something on her phone. She held herself with such genuine ease it made him jealous; she probably didn’t have to pretend a day in her life. Remembering the way she’d smirked at Chloe from behind that same desk made his heart flutter and he turned away before she could catch him staring.
Adrien was used to being pushed around by Chloe. Like with his father and tutors and photographers, he just learned to bite his tongue and ride it out. But yesterday, watching Marinette put her foot down and tell her no, you will not treat me or my friends like this - it was like getting struck by lightning.
Marinette probably had tons of friends already. But…it was worth a try.
By the time school ended it was raining outside. Marinette was in the doorway, looking dismayed, when he approached her. “Hey. Marinette, right?”
She raised her chin and side-eyed him, one eyebrow quirking upward. “Aren’t you Chloe’s boyfriend?”
The question actually made him choke. His cheeks burned. “Wha – no, no, god no, she’s just a friend.”
“Why are you friends with her? You don’t seem like a bad guy.”
“She’s…” Adrien got caught up in Marinette’s skeptical expression. She looked guarded. He wondered how long Chloe had been picking on her that his mere association was a major strike against him. “We grew up together. I’ve never been to school before. I’ve hardly been around kids my own age, so it was be friends with Chloe or be alone.”
He sighed and opened his umbrella, gesturing for her to walk with him. Sharing the meager shelter while they walked down the steps meant he could feel the warmth from her body right next to his. “So you’ve never had any other friends?” she asked.
“Not really.”
They stopped when they reached his car. She faced him, and that put her captivating eyes about a foot away from him. Adrien resigned himself to having permanently red cheeks from here on out.
“I think you need better friends. Adrien, right?”
“Right.”
She held out her hand between them. “Well, then. It’s very nice to meet you, Adrien.”
He took her hand and, on an out-of-nowhere impulse, kissed it. “Lovely to meet you as well, Marinette.”
Marinette giggled at the gesture.
Flustered, he asked, “Do you need a ride home?”
“Don’t worry about it; I live at the bakery next door. It’s not even a block away.”
He hesitated. “Well, if you’re sure. Here.” He handed his umbrella to her. “It’s still not fun to walk in the rain. You can borrow it if you’d like.”
Marinette graced him with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Thanks, Adrien. I promise I’ll give it back to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. Um, see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.” She turned away and Adrien leapt into the car before he got soaked. The Gorilla blessedly ignored whatever just happened, but Plagg decided to stick his head out of Adrien’s shirt to smirk coyly at him. He shoved the kwami back into his hiding place.
#reverse crush#marichat#adrienette#ladynoir#ml#mlb#miraculous#miraculous ladybug#tales of ladybug and cat noir#cat noir#chat noir#ladybug#origins#stoneheart#alternate stoneheart#adrien#marinette#adrien agreste#marinette dupain-cheng#fanfic#fic#badass marinette
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Anon again: Thank you!! I appreciate you taking the time to answer me because I am kind of active in the community but very very new. I did know your opinions but being new I just wanted to know whether those recent posts held any weight. I want to be socially responsible with my media consumption and I was worried there was something I was missing, given I have seen specific call outs for certain cast members (Travis, Laura, Sam, and Liam) recently. Thanks again!!
Anon pt2: you don’t have to post this but for context the call out posts were as follows: Travis actively supports the military, Laura voiced a black character?, Sam did brown face??, and Liam is fake woke/virtual signaling (or something along those lines). Obviously I can find out information about this for myself but I have seen more anti-CR stuff lately which prompted my ask.
As with everything, I suggest you do your own reading on those topics, and any topic that comes up in regards to the media you watch. Below is simply my opinion. Note: this gets long.
Travis does support the military - but not as an institution. He has family in the military. He supports the soldiers. He works with Operation Supply Drop and I’d encourage you to look into OSD specifically. Whether you agree with the idea that we should even have a military or not, you cannot deny that our veterans and soldiers are given the short end of the stick. We cannot just abandon them because helping them might be viewed as giving money to the military. I have so many military vets in my disability groups. The VA is awful because it has no funding (I know good people who work at the VA too, but they just cannot help everyone like they’d want to). Programs like OSD are genuinely helpful to a lot of hurting folk and the people who shit on Travis and CR for promoting and helping them out have clearly never actually sat down and talked to a vet or a soldier before.
Laura and many many other voice actors have voiced people of color in various shows. Yes, this is a legit problem. However, obviously as with most things, the problem is nuanced. The fault mainly lies with the VO industry as a whole, in that actors actually have very little control over what they do. There was a whole strike about this very topic (though the strike covered other issues in the industry as well). In the case of Laura, for instance, she was never told what her character would look like until after the fact. And that is super common in the industry. One of the things they tried to get in the strike was more transparency so that actors could make the decisions themselves whether to voice characters or not - not just based on race or culture but also based on type of work (stressful screaming vs chill dialogue) and whether the content of the game itself was something they wanted their name attached to.
Sam’s blackface scandal is extremely old news. That’s not to say it isn’t important to note, and in fact Sam made a point to note it again back in 2018. I know people who can’t watch CR because of it, even after his apology, and that’s fine because its not my place to judge others for how they react to that kind of thing. However I know a lot of people who read his apology and the circumstances surrounding it and decided to forgive. To some people, the fact that he was asked to do so by will.i.am changes the situation. To others, it doesn’t. To some the fact that he apologized and has clearly worked to improve his behavior matters, to others it doesn’t. You have to decide that for yourself. You can read Sam’s letter HERE.
Now. Regarding Liam. * sigh * I think, and again this is my opinion, that you cannot proclaim someone you do not know as ‘fake woke.’ I think there are parts of this fandom that have it out for Liam because of a whole bunch of gross reasons, many of which I’ve spoken about before. He is sensitive and a man - that makes people uncomfy. He plays a lot of women characters and tends to embody them in both personality and body language - that makes people uncomfy. He fully embraces the bi energy (this is not to say whether he himself is or not) - that makes a lot of people uncomfy (and angry). He loves theatre and loves to explore the human condition, warts and all - that makes people super uncomfy. Now. There are people who thinks he’s homophobic. Do you know why? Its because his bi character ended up with a woman instead of a man. That is biphobia, no matter how they twist it. Bi people being “allowed” to be bi and not ‘pick the right side’ in the LG (not BT, lets be real) community IS revolutionary because its so very hated.
Another reason they say he’s homophobic is because of the jokes he is often involved in - some gay men in the fandom believe that joking about sex is him ‘making fun’ of gay relationships. As a bi enby, I disagree, and I read many of the jokes he himself makes as the kind of humor I use among my own friends. I think there is a definite disconnect between bi vs LG humor and I’m not entirely sure who would be considered in the ‘right’ on that. However, when LG people in the fandom claim that he cannot talk about gay relationships because he is cishet? They cannot know that. That is an assumption they are making. When LG fans say that he alone is responsible for this issue and not -literally every single member of CR- ? I have to question whether its really the issue and not just that they still hate Liam for deigning to make a bi character bi instead of gay.
Another thing re: Liam. Aside from Marisha, he is the one I see the most hate about. People on Twitter and Tumblr both have legit uttered death threats about him if he doesn’t do exactly what they want his characters to do in the game. Usually this is about shipping. I have seen people claim that they WISH he was ‘like vic mignogna’ so they’d have a reason to hate him more. I’ve seen a certain group of people and one in particular say they have ‘dirt’ on him but refuse to say what the dirt is - and yet continually bring up that it exists, but that they just cannot say. Why would you incessantly bring up information you possess just to say that you cannot divulge such information?
Legit issues about CR that is attached to Liam is the whitewashing issue. Some say that only Liam is responsible here because he controls all the art. I would say that we actually don’t know that for sure. He is ‘Art Dad’ and clearly has some pull. I do think that CR should address this issue, but I’m not sure they can legally do what the fandom wants them to do, which is “call-out” artists by name and denounce them.
Now, this too is more nuanced than the fandom makes out because its often way more about colorism vs whitewashing. Many people do not draw Beau as white, but they do draw her as much lighter skin tones than her original art. Colorism is a real problem, but white allies tend to go about talking about it wrong or making smaller things a bigger deal when POC would really rather talk about something more important to them. It was these same white allies that tore Mica Burton apart on Twitter because she liked and enjoyed a drawing of Reani, her own character, that was a few shades lighter than the drawing she herself had brought in, even after she had said that she appreciated the variety of skin tones due to seeing herself in each of them. On the topic of whitewashing/colorism in the fandom, I personally tend to wait to hear from POC over the masses of white allies.
The CR fandom is very big for a niche thing like DnD. As such, there are many many corners of the fandom that can get really jaded, really dark, and really up their own ass in regards to the discourse. There are legitimate issues in the fandom and with CR as a whole. Nothing is perfect, nothing ever will be perfect, and people should absolutely do what they can to do better and to ask their media to do better. That being said, there are also people who think that if you don’t do something exactly like they want, then you’re Problematic by default. There are also members of this fandom who have an active vendetta against certain cast members and will use any opportunity to co-opt legit issues in order to shore up their false arguments. These people are only using the real issues and it becomes clear pretty quickly that they don’t actually give a shit about the people they say they are trying to speak up for.
There is also some fandom drama that has occurred ONLY in fandom and has absolutely nothing to do with CR other than the fact that the people involved happen to be CR fans. Certain people in the fandom think that CR should arbitrate this issue and involve themselves, call out the individuals responsible, etc. This is, I believe, a GROSS misconception of what CR’s role is and asking way too much of a source of entertainment. The fact that CR has not involved themselves in this issue has led certain members of this fandom to claim that CR is homophobic. I would caution that most callouts of CR as homophobic are directly linked to this first issue, and also a callback to the Vaxleth drama from campaign one, and is incontrovertibly tied to bi and enby-phobia and a seriously sick misunderstanding of the responsibilities a show has versus the responsibility individuals have as viewers of said show.
That’s it for now. I could go way more in depth on this problems, but I’m tired of typing. Suffice it to say, its easy to make a list of things Problematic with CR, but once you actually delve into each topic hopefully you’ll realize how complicated and filled with nuance and Different Opinions going on back from the first episode of Campaign One... Listing problems without actually addressing them head-on isn’t a good way to deal with the problems that are true anyway, let alone tell them from the false ones.
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Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight prologue (part 1)
I’m back, with as much verbosity and discussion of identity as ever, this time featuring Lan and Perrin.
Loial gets the epigraph this time. Good for you, Loial. Live your dreams.
Prologue: Distinctions
Wait a second. Hold on. Is this… are we… am I being greeted, upon my return to this series after several months, by a Lan POV? Is this possible?
Mandarb’s hooves beat a familiar rhythm on broken ground as Lan Mandragoran rode toward his death.
Because of course. Of course we get Lan’s POV, for the first time in the series, when he is riding at last to his private war with the Blight, to avenge the country that died decades ago and whose death he has always seen as his own, only delayed. Of course we get his POV now, when he is riding to what he believes is, at last, his death.
This has always been his purpose. He is a sword, a weapon, an oath, a fallen nation. A weapon doesn’t get to have a voice. A dead nation doesn’t get to speak. A sword can’t tell its own story. Especially because, all that time, he was held back from this, which he has always seen as his purpose. His only purpose. He let himself be bonded all those years ago but he never really gave up that sense of… I was about to say identity, but it’s both identity and total lack thereof. Identity, but not as a person, not as someone with agency and a story to tell. Just a weapon, forged for a single purpose.
And so, riding to his death, this is the closest he comes in the main series to feeling alive. Now that he is fulfilling that purpose, now that he is following the one path he has always considered his own. This, here, this ride to his death, is his entire identity.
So yes. In that sense it is beautifully fitting that we open with his POV for the first time in the main series, now as it draws towards its end. Now that he is freed, such as it is, to at last meet what he believes is his end, and his beginning, and the task that defined his entire… well. ‘Life’ sounds rather ironic there, but it’s the best I can do.
Anyway, we’re one line in and I’ve already written several hundred words, so I guess even after a hiatus nothing’s changed.
Turns out the earth is apparently quite literally salted here. So that’s a good start.
He’d turned away from it twenty years ago, agreeing to follow Moiraine, but he’d always known he would return. This was what it meant to bear the name of his fathers, the sword on his hip, and the hadori on his head.
All three representative of something dead, something lost, something gone. Something he accepts as lost. He doesn’t ride to revive Malkier, he rides to bury it (though I’m sure he wouldn’t mind praising it along the way). His entire life and self have been defined by this, by death and the past. The wheel of time turns, and stories fade and must ultimately be left in order to find a future, but Lan, for all his wisdom in some areas, has never really understood that. Or, perhaps more accurately, never felt it could apply to him.
I think in some way he did understand it, in that he bound himself to Moiraine even when it meant leaving his burned past and his private war in order to fight for the future of the world, but even then, it was only… temporary. Ultimately, he accepts the past as having a hold on him, accepts the idea the has never had and never will have a future.
It is, in a way, a parallel to or slight variant on Rand, on a different scale. Rand struggled (at least I think it’s past tense at this point) for so long to figure out how to accept Lews Therin as a part of himself without the terror of being bound to his past life’s fate. And on top of that there’s his whole he belongs to the Pattern, and to history. Moiraine saw that as future history – something that is not yet but will be history, but is future from where we stand. But Rand – and Lan – end up with a slightly different view of that. Rand fights against the memory of a doomed past and relinquishes all sense of freedom or choice or agency (until he gets better), and Lan lets the past own him and define him and guide him and kill him, all without ever dreaming to have a life of his own.
Riding to his death didn’t pain him
And why should it? Defined by death as he is. If you never think of yourself as someone who gets to be a person and have a life, what fear would death hold? He was only ever a… placeholder? A delayed strike, a remnant, a part of something dead that just hasn’t got around to lying down and stopping yet.
But knowing she feared for him… that did hurt. Very badly.
There’s a slightly bitter part of me that can’t quite get over the disappointment that the first Lan POV we get in the main series isn’t written by Jordan. Because Jordan’s writing of Lan in New Spring was beautiful. Spare but surprisingly lovely, and yet all threaded through with the idea and mention and thought of death, not in a morbid or even grim way but just as a part of the lens through which the story is told… it was so perfectly suited to Lan, and this feels… less so. It’s not bad; it’s just. I feel like I have a sense of what it could be and it’s not quite that.
Then again we’re still only like two paragraphs in, Great Lord of the Dark Lia would you get on with it already.
He hadn’t seen another person in days.
Too soon for a self-isolation joke?
Oh look, the first of his army has arrived!
Because the Golden Crane flies for Tarmon Gai’don. Man, that scene.
This kid’s like ‘hi! I’m here! I brought things, and supplies, and I’m just so excited, and and and’ and Lan is like ‘okay but who the fuck are you’.
Come on, Wheel of Time, let Lan Mandragoran say ‘fuck’.
Bulen? That sounds familiar, and he looks familiar to Lan…he’s definitely from New Spring. He was the errand boy, wasn’t he? Well, three cheers for conservation of characters.
“But when word spread in the palace that the Golden Crane was raised, I knew what I had to do.”
Really, Bulen? Do you not remember what happened last time someone tried to raise the Golden Crane in Lan’s name? I mean I’m all for it and Nynaeve is certainly a long way from Edeyn and that scene of the Golden Crane flies for Tarmon Gai’don still gives me at least two-thirds of an emotion when I think about it, but you’d think the kid would have grown a sense of self-preservation after what went down twenty years ago. Then again, no one in this series has a sense of self-preservation, so why change that now?
El’Nynaeve! She gets her title! She once had to fight so hard for people to respect her as Wisdom, and then as Aes Sedai, and now people who have barely met her give her a royal title! Because she’s out there raising an army and a nation from its grave!
(Yeah, yeah, you could point out that she has to fight for all the titles she earns, while this is one given to her by virtue of her marriage to a man, but honestly I’m just going to enjoy hearing this random kid call her El’Nynaeve because he already thinks of her as his queen because she’s just that cool. And you can’t stop me.)
Well, if she could play games with the truth, then so could he. Lan had said he’d take anyone who wished to ride with him. This man was not mounted. Therefore, Lan could refuse him. A petty distinction, but twenty years with Aes Sedai had taught him a few things about how to watch one’s words.
I’m dying. Sure, the prose is Sanderson, but the sentiment it expresses? Is absolutely Lan. It’s a slightly more grown up and jaded version of New Spring Lan, and it’s pretty much exactly what I imagine Lan’s internal monologue throughout the entirety of The Eye of the World looking like. He and Moiraine are well-matched in that for all their extreme competence, and wisdom, and ability to set everything aside for the sake of the world… they are also capable of great pettiness coated in a fine veneer of dry humour and presented as Done With Your Shit.
Lan’s just like ‘nope, no cranes to see here, golden or paper or otherwise, just denial as far as the eye can see.’
Lan would not call anyone ‘son’. He has an epithet for everyone but that is not one of them.
“My father was Malkieri,” Bulen said from behind.
Lan continued on.
“He died when I was five,” Bulen called.
Yes, well, that’s something you have in common, give or take a few years.
Lan’s not here for anyone’s tragic backstory but his own.
Except Bulen, for all that he never learned self-preservation, apparently learned how to tug on the heartstrings.
“I would wear the hadori of my father,” Bulen called, voice growing louder. “But I have nobody to ask if I may.”
Damn it, this kid. Was that me or Lan speaking just now? We may never know.
Lan’s still trying to send him away, because Lan Mandragoran does not need to adopt any more wayward children who are only trying to find their way, and Bulen’s just trying every angle of attack he can possibly find and this kid sure has an arsenal.
“I hardly knew who you were, though I know you lost someone dear to you among us.”
Because if appealing to your tragic past doesn’t work, maybe appealing to his will. I have to admire Bulen’s determination to make a slightly nostalgic nuisance of himself until the Uncrowned King of Malkier finally gives him a sticker.
“I spent years cursing myself for not serving you better. I swore that I would stand with you someday.” He walked up beside Lan. “I ask you because I have no father. May I wear the hadori and fight at your side, al’Lan Mandragoran? My King?”
I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fine and I do not feel emotions.
And Lan’s cursing Nynaeve for the oath she made him swear but what a conflict this must be for him: to be confronted with the life of his nation, when all he wants is to avenge its death. To have someone look to him not as a sword or a reminder of what is gone but as a father, a king, a leader, a symbol of something returning, something renewed.
It is, in a way, not entirely unlike his conflict in New Spring. Only he’s already learned to crush that hope before it even makes itself known, because it can only end in pain. And yet, it doesn’t stop finding him.
Nynaeve, when I next see you… But he would not see her again. He tried not to dwell upon that.
Don’t say that where Nynaeve can hear you. But really, I think I’ve said this before, but Lan is one of the characters whose survival I am most confident in, largely because of this. Because to let him die… sure, it wouldn’t really be surprising, and in a way it would fulfil the ending he wants, but it wouldn’t… move his story anywhere. Whereas to take a character so certain of and accepting of his death, someone who never believed he should even have a life at all, whose every waking moment has been in waiting of his end, the truly satisfying ending would be for him to get to live. Not just in the sense of surviving, but actually living.
Because again, it’s not unlike a part of Rand’s story, recently: the rediscovery of life. Of the purpose of it all. On Dragonmount he saw it two ways: once as meaningless, pointless, because victory just brings another battle and every lifetime is pain and he has no freedom and why not just end it. But then as another chance, the possibility of life and love and something better. And I think there’s an element of that threaded through the series as a whole. This idea that yes, things fade and die and are lost, and yes there is pain and duty and a Pattern woven, but in amidst all of that the point is to live. Not to just survive until you can die for the cause, but to actually live along the way. It’s that question of what are you fighting for, what is the purpose of all of this? Rand has, at last, found that. Lan… still needs to.
“We ride anonymously,” Lan said.
Sure. As anonymously as Rand riding into Tear, pretending gloves could hide his identity. Whatever you say, Lan.
“You tell nobody who I am.”
There’s a whole Thing here about erasing his own identity, which is almost ironic in that the fact that he has a POV at all is a way of showing him embracing that identity, except that the identity he is embracing is the denial of self to all intents and purposes in favour of a duty and a dead nation that defined him before he could ever define himself.
I mean. It’s just a throwaway line. But I’m me, and so it’s not.
***
Oh hello Perrin, what are you doing in a prologue? Shouldn’t you be off in a real chapter with all your friends? Run along now.
He seems to be at a forge, though, so that’s a good look.
Some people found the clang of metal against metal grating. Not Perrin. That sound was soothing.
I like this, because especially without the surrounding context it plays so well into one of the central dualities of Perrin’s character: that of the gentle, careful one who wants to build things and work a forge and know peace versus the side of him that is terrifying in battle and feels alive when fighting and runs with wolves. Metal on metal, in a forge or a battlefield.
Oh it’s a dream. That works too. Rand dreams of his sworn and fated enemy and sits with him by the fire as they both take a moment away from the tasks neither of them truly want but cannot relinquish, and Perrin dreams of a forge.
He was making something important.
A nation? A decision? A bed to replace the one he ‘lost’ in the bushes? Tell us, Perrin.
Understand the pieces, Perrin.
Ah, and there it is. Such a crucial task for the ta’veren whose power manifests largely in the forging of nations, in bringing people to him and together, in binding. But to do that, you have to know what you’re binding. Which requires not denying it, but I think perhaps Perrin has finally moved beyond that.
Hi Hopper. Want a belly rub?
What am I making? Perrin picked up the length of glowing iron with his tongs. The air warped around it.
Well that is the question, Perrin, is it not? Time to let yourself answer it. Time to move past instinct, or exceptional ability in emergencies that lapses into denial once they’re over. He’s so good in those situations, but he struggles with the times in between, the times when his thoughts catch up to him. And now… he needs to push past that, and be able to truly accept it all, to not just swing the hammer but to know what he’s making, to plan it, to be deliberate and purposeful – which is so much a part of him in some ways, but there are areas he avoids.
Hopper’s like okay okay but can we get our symbolism by chasing things or something fun? You humans and your hammers, I swear.
Master Luhhan would be ashamed to see such shoddy work. Perrin needed to discover what he was making soon
I mean, there’s really nothing for me to even add to that.
More hammering, but he’s angry now.
It should all be better now! But it isn’t. It seems worse somehow.
He continued pounding. He hated those rumours that the men in camp whispered about him.
There’s a pun here to be made about hammers and pounding and Berelain but I am an adult and therefore I shall refrain.
More to the point, though… he’s directing his anger at the rumours but I think it’s rather more about that first part. That things should be ‘better’ now, but they aren’t, and he still doesn’t know what he’s making. He was driven, focused (too driven, too focused) and he had a task and so he could pursue it with single-minded determination, but as soon as he completed it… he was back with his thoughts and a nation following him and a role he has partway accepted but still hasn’t quite come to terms with. He still doesn’t fully accept what he is, who he is, what he can do, what he will have to do.
And so he’s doing what he can, and trying to forge those bonds and face what’s coming but there’s a part of him still holding back, still uncertain of what that means, or still reluctant to face it.
It’s an interesting scene because the framing is so similar to Perrin at the forge in The Dragon Reborn, and yet the tone is so utterly different. That was meditative, deliberate, beautiful; Perrin in his element, creating something perhaps not beautiful but well-made, functional, perfectly suited to its purpose. That was Perrin as he saw himself then, when he knew who he was – or at least, who he wanted to be. This… the work is sloppy and Perrin doesn’t even know what he’s making (whereas then, he decided almost immediately but without urgency; it was just an ease and comfort in knowing what the metal would be) but he’s pressing ahead; this is his identity but he’s still forcing it, and so it all feels wrong.
Hopper’s like okay well why don’t you just, you know, not, and ah, we’re back to the wolf thing. Just because Rand has perhaps finally figured out how to balance the different aspects of himself doesn’t mean all the characters have.
Perrin wasn’t nearly as in control as he’d assumed. The wolf within him could still reign.
But, like with the forging, trying to force it isn’t really the answer. Accept, Perrin. Look at the pieces you actually have. Understand them. Understand the different parts of yourself, and take them as they are, and then you can forge them and fit them together. But you can’t do it by ignoring what they are and just trying to force them into what you think they should be. Especially if you don’t even have a clear idea of what that is.
Problems are not amusing, Young Bull, Hopper agreed. But you are climbing back and forth over the same wall.
At least it’s not that damn garden wall in Caemlyn.
But I like how directly this is acknowledged, first with Tam last book and now with Hopper, here. That Perrin keeps wavering over this same conflict, keeps taking two steps forward and one step back, keeps doubting himself and questioning himself and fearing this aspect of himself that he taps into at need but then runs from again.
I like it, as a way to play out a character arc in a way that isn’t just linear growth. Sure, it’s frustrating as all hell sometimes, but it feels real. Because sometimes we don’t Learn The Important Lesson and then move on with our lives never having to face that problem again. Sometimes you overcome your doubts or fear of something once, or find your way past an obstacle, only to find that when it comes up again, hey, turns out it’s still pretty difficult. Not everything is conquered the first time, or the second, or…
PERRIN DO NOT ASK HOW TO REVERSE YOUR WOLFPOWERS. EMBRACE THE WOLFPOWERS. YOU’VE ONLY GOT TWO BOOKS LEFT.
Ah, Perrin, so much self-doubt. But then, his timeline is a bit behind Rand’s, I believe, so he is rather due for a last moment of crisis before the storm breaks.
The quenching barrel is boiling and Perrin doesn’t know what he’s forging and all his movements are almost…clumsy. Rushed and uncareful and the exact opposite of the spare economy of motion from that first forging scene. Because he’s no longer moving with the comfort of surety in who he is and what he’s doing; he’s doubting himself and his task and his capacity and his purpose, unsure and afraid and trying to force some things and ignore others and it doesn’t work that way.
Oh, I like this.
The glow faded. The chunk was actually a small steel figurine in the shape of a tall, thin man with a sword tied to his back. Each line of the figure was detailed, the ruffles of the shirt, the leather bands on the hilt of the tiny sword. But the face was distorted, the mouth open in a twisted scream.
Aram, Perrin thought. His name was Aram.
That is excellent. And it reminds me so strongly, with the twisted scream and the naming, of that scene that absolutely ruins me in the Rhuidean sequence, where Lewin veils his face and the wind rises and he screams ‘I am Aiel’, as those who call themselves Aiel turn from him and name him lost.
And that Aram is forged from steel, from Perrin’s forge, because Perrin as he sees it made him what he became (took him from a life of peace to one of violence), and it’s a perfectly formed piece; it’s not like a misshapen lump of metal, but it’s still wrong. Not what it should be. Not what it should have been.
Why had he created such a thing?
Oh, Perrin.
What a question. Because of course he holds himself responsible. But… while he may have been a catalyst of sorts, this was Aram’s choice. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. A child of peace, who lost everything and came to Perrin for permission to learn the sword, to fight and kill, and who eventually lost even that and died for it. A follower of the Way of the Leaf, brought to a life and death of violence at Perrin’s side. Perrin, who for all he argued with the Tuatha’an about their pacifism still wished for a world in which it could be true, and, I think, wished a little bit that he could have known something like that for himself.
Aw, we left Malden, do we have to go back in the dreamscape?
Did Perrin really look that imposing?
Yes. Next question?
A squat fortress of a man
I am dying. What a phrase. Who needs a brick shithouse when you can have a squat fortress.
And he’s holding the axe again in his dream. He made that choice, but like so many other things, it still occasionally wavers. He is still not sure of who he is. That, he still hasn’t truly decided and accepted and understood, for all that he’s grasped pieces of it around the edges.
A horn or a hoof, Young Bull, does it matter which one you use to hunt? Hopper was sitting in the sunlit street beside him.
“Yes. It matters. It does to me.”
And yet you use them the same way.
I like this exchange because Hopper is right… but so is Perrin. Because perception is absolutely a part of it. Perception, and choices, and a… claiming, of sorts, of his identity. Yes, he uses the hammer to destroy, just as he uses the axe. But to him, the fact that the hammer can be used for another purpose matters. It makes a difference because he chooses to see it that way. Which is, in its way, just as important as Rand choosing to see his fate not as inevitability and despair but as another chance. The smallest shift in perception, looking at the same thing from a slightly different angle, and yet it makes all the difference in the world.
I just like things like that, where these ideas can be simultaneously so close together and so far apart. These infinitesimal distinctions that alter an entire worldview. One small shift and everything falls into place, even if from the outside you’d never understand that there was a difference.
When Perrin fought, he came close to becoming someone else. And that was dangerous.
But is it someone else? Or is this like Rand and Lews Therin, where he fought so hard to hold to the distinction, because he was too afraid of what it might mean to let Lews Therin be a part of him. Perrin is so afraid of what accepting the wolf aspect of his nature might mean, that he sees it as a different person. As someone else. As something he could lose himself to, rather than as something he needs to find within himself and embrace as part of who he is.
Ah, identity.
“Why are you making me dream this?”
Yeah, sorry Perrin, but no.
Though for some reason this reminds me of that dream Rand and Moridin shared and Moridin finally being like ‘okay so what are you doing here’ and Rand thinking Moridin had brought him into the dream and really, boys, do I need to get Egwene in here to teach the lot of you how to dream responsibly?
Except wait, no, Egwene dreams about Gawyn so she’s not responsible in that regard either. Damn.
Anyway.
So Perrin’s re-living Aram’s death in his dreams.
Perrin stepped back. He refused to fight the boy again.
The shadowy version of himself split off, leaving the real Perrin in his blacksmith’s clothing. The shadow exchanged blows with Aram.
Because Perrin is fighting himself: the blacksmith who wants peace, and the warrior who runs with wolves. But he doesn’t see how they can reconcile, how he could possibly be both.
Also everything about Aram’s story is still rather beautifully sad. A lonely branching of the Aiel’s ongoing story, an offshoot of the main Rhuidean sequence, truncated before it could go anywhere, lost with who knows how many others.
Right before Aram would have killed Perrin.
The horn, the hoof, or the tooth […] Does it matter? The dead are dead.
[…]
“I should have taken that fool sword from him the moment he picked it up. I should have sent him back to his family.”
Does not a cub deserve his fangs? Hopper asked, genuinely confused. Why would you pull them?
“It is a thing of men,” Perrin said.
Things of two-legs, of men. Always, it is a thing of men to you. What of things of wolves?
“I am not a wolf.”
This whole argument with Hopper is excellent because again, Hopper is right. But so is Perrin. And it’s so perfectly… it’s Perrin’s dream, and whether Hopper is actually there or not is almost irrelevant, because it’s essentially Perrin arguing with himself. At war between the two sides of his nature, and he goes around and around because until he accepts that he can be both, that he does not have to be defined as the man or the wolf, he won’t be able to find answers that make sense. Because it’s an argument where both sides are right, but he’s trying to pick only one. And so he can never win, never progress.
Perrin in his dream is literally forging figures of the people from the Two Rivers. Just like in reality he is forging them, binding them together, making them into what they must be to face the Last Battle with him. It’s not subtle, but it is rather lovely.
Though lines like this:
The figurine continued to glow, faintly reddish
Still give me flashbacks to last book, and Rand, and a certain ter’angreal of mass destruction.
But figurines like this wouldn’t be forged; they’d be cast. “What does it mean?”
Hey, at least you know enough of dreams to understand that Here There Be Symbolism, even if you don’t quite understand what of. We’ll call that a solid B+.
Hopper doesn’t think much of symbolism unless he can eat it. That’s fair.
Laughter in the distance? Moridin, are you fucking with people’s dreams again? Though he doesn’t seem like much of one for laughter these days.
Either way, dreamtime’s over. Good night, Perrin.
Next (ToM prologue pt. 2)
Previous (TGS final thoughts)
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TAGGED BY: Someone tagged her in this on Summer’s old blog
TAGGING: @feralspace-bitch, @fightan0therday, @tr0ubled-s0uls, @starrys0nder, @implausiblynaive, @defactomatriarch, and anyone else interested!!
layer one : the outside
Name - Summer Elise Smith
Eye colour - Light Brown almost akin to honey, but can sometimes appear almost golden when in the sunlight!
Hair style / colour - Naturally red hair that stretches down to her midback ish area, her hair is typically worn down and straighten! If not straighten then in just loose waves.
Height - 5′6″
Clothing style - I think the best way to describe Summer’s fashion would be summertime casual tbh! She wears a lot of skinny jeans, shorts, and t-shirts. Occasionally she’ll wear tank tops or crop tops if she’s staying on a planet/dimension she feels safe in as well! Always form-fitting clothing with this girl too, I don’t imagine she’d find any sort of baggy cloths really appealing. Summer is also not a huge fan of formal or winter attire either tbh. She hates the cold and purposely moved to a dimension where she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore, so in all honesty, Summer probably owns one light jacket and dress in her entire closet.
Best physical feature - Summer honestly has one of the prettiest smiles! It can light up an entire room, but I also thing it’s pretty hard to earn a genuine smile from her. She usually uses fake or “overly sweet” smiles when dealing with people who annoy her, but when people close with her tend to earn her genuine smile.
layer two : the inside
Fears - Loss of control/power over herself, appearing weak, men (whether she wants to admit that or not), letting others in/letting her walls down (too many have proven to Summer that it’s best to trust as limited amount of people as possible), and losing the few people she does care about/trust
Guilty pleasure - Honestly, coding and hacking 100%. There’s just something so relaxing about programming various electronics to Summer, like for a moment she just shut down her mind and just work/not think (which isn’t something Summer gets to do often so she revels in it when given the chance omg). Once she gets started, she can literally go on for hours, sometimes even a whole day if someone doesn’t stop her.
Biggest pet peeve - People going through her shit or digging their nose into her business. Summer’s a very private person, so someone deciding to take it upon themselves to put to put their nose where it doesn’t belong is an instant violation of trust and overstepping so many boundaries for Summer!!
Ambitions for the future - Just surviving honestly/living to see another day. Ever since Summer was little, it’s always been about making it to tomorrow, just do what you can to get by so you can hopefully wake up to see another sunrise. When she was living with Beth it was always about making sure she had the bare minimum amount of food to live, then when she first got into space it was always about having money so they didn’t freeze to death outside. It’s always been about survival for Summer, and now even though she’s in a much, much better place than before her mind is still set in survival mode. She very much lives with the logic of “Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, so I might as well live each day as if it’s my last”. So honestly her ambition for the future is just living to maybe see it one day rip.
layer three : thoughts
First thoughts upon waking up: Honestly? “Welp, survived another day I guess, time to go make the most of it.” She very much lives life in the moment and spends every day as it’s her last. Summer tries not to think too hard on any responsibilities for the day when she first wakes up cause otherwise it’ll overwhelm her too much. Instead, on mornings like those, she just goes back to sleep for a couple of hours more.
What you think about most: Her friends, Tammy and Tricia (both @tr0ubled-s0uls). I think she worries a lot about them and what they might think. Are they happy? Do they wish they hadn’t come with her and stayed on Earth instead? Would they still have stuck around with her for this long if it hadn’t been for all the shit she’s dragged them into? What would her plan be if the federation was to finally capture the three of them? Do they really like her or is it just a matter of circumstances? That kind of thing. Summer’s a ride or die kind of friend and would do anything for those two, kill or die for them (one of which she’s already done). She’s made so many sacrifices for her friends and has taken the wrap for them on multiple occasions, and I think the bigger part of Summer will always wonder if it’s enough or too little. Summer won’t say it a lot, but she truly does feel like a sinking ship sometimes, and she feels so horribly for dragging those two down with her, even though they both agreed to it entirely. If it wasn’t for them having a criminal record too because of Summer, I don’t think she’d feel so bad but that alone causes her a lot of guilt that she keeps under lock and key.
What you think about before bed: I think she plays music a lot to try and quiet her mind of any thoughts or memories that always wanna come up before she goes to sleep-- so if she’d lucky, nothing. Although, if she’s not lucky, I imagine she thinks a lot on the past and she absolutely hates that. She’ll play music as loud as she can to quiet her mind before going to be if possible, if not possible, then it’s time to have a couple of drinks omg. Or if worst comes to worst, time to get up and try sleeping tomorrow night instead!
What your best quality is: I know how it’s going to sound, but honestly her open-minded and accepting nature. Summer may not seem like it at first to strangers, but she actually quite understanding once you pick at all her tough layers. There’s a soft side in there somewhere, but not many people see it!! But those willing to work for it and dig hard enough that Summer deems worthy enough get to see that side of her.
layer four : what’s better ?
Single or group dates - Single - She loves her friends, but on the rare times Summer does actually go on a date, she prefers her and the other person are alone together so then she can get to know them a little bit better where as she’d be more distracted and withdrawn in a group date with some other people she may not know.
To be loved or respected - Respected - Summer hasn’t seen any good side effects of being loved just yet, she’s only seen negativity come out of love so she’d much rather gain someone’s respect than love any day. Besides, in her opinion, at least she can do something useful with respect rather than love. Maybe one day she might prefer to be loved, but not until she can actually see some positivity come out of it.
Beauty or brains - Brains - Summer cannot stand when someone looks so pretty but has absolutely nothing going on upstairs. She wants to be able to hold a conversation with someone that lasts more than a few sentences.
Dogs or cats - Dogs - In truth, she used to be neither, but ever since she got her boys, she’s been a dog person at heart.
layer five : do you…
Lie - Absolutely. Summer is an amazing liar, she’s been doing it all her life to get by, one of the many skills she’s adapted along the way in order to survive. I don’t imagine she lies to those she cares about and trusts, but everyone else is fair game.
Believe in yourself - For the most part, yes. I think Summer does have some days where she feels like she can’t do it anymore, but she lives by the philosophy, “I can do this, and even if I can’t, I have to.” so even if she doesn’t necessarily believe in her abilities one day she basically fakes it till she makes it. Although, Summer knows she’s smart and that she can do anything she puts her mind to so she puts a lot of faith in herself. After all, in her mind, yourself is the only person you can truly rely on so.
Believe in love - No. I think Summer has been through a lot of heartache in the short time she’s been alive and that’s really jaded her a lot, to not only love but possible friendships as well. Not only just that, but I feel like Beth has literally told her from a young age that love isn’t real and to never “love” other people too much, which for the most part Summer takes anything Beth says with a grain of salt, but that’s one of the few things that stuck (mainly because Summer witnessed the effects that “love” had on Beth firsthand). However, that being said, I do feel like it would have to take a very special person (*cough cough* @fightan0therday 👀) that could possibly change her mind in the future omg.
Want someone - See now this is a complicated one cause I do truly that deep down a part of her does think it would be nice to have a special someone in her life, but again she just really feels like it’s all just one fairytale dream that will never happen so why even bother entertaining the thought? You could never catch her admitting that though! If you were to ask her, she would tell you no so fucking fast, it’s unreal omg. But again, there might be a special someone she’ll consider down the road ( *glances at @fightan0therday ) omg!!
layer six : ever been …
Been on stage: Oh gosh, I can’t think of a particular incident off hand, but I’m sure she has. Summer is not shy in the slightest so she and her friends would always get into trouble in high school, one of which being the time that she and Tammy ( @tr0ubled-s0uls ) pretended to be interested in cheerleading in high school just so they could do a not so school-friendly cheer routine in front of at least 20+ people. So if you count that, plus dancing on tabletops at bars among something else stupid she’s done I’m sure there’s been at least one time in her life!
Done drugs: Yes, but not so much anymore at all really. I feel like Summer has had one too many close calls while under the influence of drugs before when she used to dabble in them, so now she’d just rather not. She might occasionally smoke a joint with her friends on rare occasions, but only at a safe location with people she trusts. Other than that, she usually doesn’t because she doesn’t like not having control over herself or leaving herself vulnerable for others to do something to her. The same applies to drinking as well, she’d rather be the designated driver any day!
Changed who you were to fit in: No. Summer changed because growing up at an early age was unfortunately vital to her survival, but she has never and will never change who she is a person for anyone just to “fit in”. Summer has always considered herself top dog, so why would she want to be some silly little “popular” girl?
layer seven : favorites
Favourite color - I think it’s called peach? It’s that pale pink and orange mixture.
Favourite animal - Dogs, or more specifically her Dobermans. She appreciates their undying loyalty to her.
Favourite movie - Any horror movie, they’re always a good laugh for her and her friends!
Favourite game - Summer used to play a little bit of softball in high school, but I’m not sure she’d say that was her favorite. Tbh I’m not sure!! Maybe trivia cause she’s really smart and it gives her a chance to show that off omg.
layer eight : age
Day your next birthday will be - July 23rd
How old will you be - 22 (Summer is always 22, I don’t typically age up my characters anymore.)
Age you lost your virginity - Fifteen. It was some senior bad boy in high school that all the girls wanted and Summer had a crush on. He showed just a tad bit of interest in Summer, even going as far as flirting with her in the halls so she went for it, and then he wanted nothing to do with her after the fact. It’s still something she regrets to this day, usually just lies about her answer if anyone ever asks her this question. Or just gets defensive and changes the topic.
Does age matter - Depends on the situation. In dating, absolutely, Summer isn’t really interested in people way older than her. As far as someone telling her she’s too old/young to do something then no, cause Summer does what she wants regardless of anyone or anything.
layer nine : in a person
Best personality - Confident, intelligent, understanding, carefree, someone who won’t tuck their tail and run the second they start to learn about her past, self assured (that might not be the right word I’m looking for, but Summer doesn’t want someone who doesn’t have their own opinions/feelings and only follows along with what she says all the time)
Best eye colour - I could see her being a sucker for brown or hazel eyes tbh
Best hair colour - Darker hues tbh
Best thing to do with a partner - Just be her true and honest self. Summer always has a front up to protect herself from others, so just having someone who she can wholeheartedly trust to put those walls down would be such a weight off her shoulders, whether she realizes that or not just yet.
layer ten : finish the sentence
I love - “my friends more than either of them will ever know. We’ve been through hell together and I’d do again if I had to.”
I feel - “like the multiverse is shit anyways and nothing matters in the end, so you might as well live life to the fullest and do what you wanna do.”
I hide - “everything... People only disappoint you, you can’t trust anyone really. I tried trusting more than two people before and it royally screwed me over, it’s a mistake I’ll never make again...”
I miss - “when things used to be simpler and it wasn’t always about running.”
I wish - “…I didn’t have to grow up being constantly reminded of how much of a mistake I was...”
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Ch.2 reactions part two
Again, spoilers ahead for everything.
Thoughts on the Jade of the Orient:
- The restaurant scene has been talked about a lot already but just to reiterate: Richie needs Eddie’s attention on him 100% of the time and he slides back into that neediness literally instantly.
- Favorite moment during the initial reunion was the background conversation between Richie and Eddie about Eddie’s many ailments. Something about diabetes and then “I think you just read shit on the internet and -” …. Richie is not wrong, that is absolutely what happens. Eddie cannot be trusted with WebMD. Right out the gate Richie is like there is nothing wrong with you you’re just psyching yourself out about dumb shit.
- I’m very glad that Beverly’s career as a fashion designer was confirmed. I saw in one of the Reddit AMA’s a couple weeks ago something like “It doesn’t say what her job is, she’s just in an abusive marriage” so I was dreading that being the case... thank god that person just wasn’t paying attention.
- Again, loved Mike’s mailroom Charlie freak out and Eddie and Richie getting increasingly angry about it while Ben is like LET HIM TALK LET HIM EXPLAIN!!
- Nice inclusion of the crawling eye even though it wasn’t in Ch.1. Love novel Easter eggs! “The fortune cookie is looking at me!!”
- Richie shouting Eddie’s name during the fortune cookie fiasco when they were on opposite corners of the room… like what Rich, you don’t trust BEN to save Eddie from the fortune cookie bat thing?? Ben’s got this. But I loved that - Richie shouting Eddie’s name and putting Eddie’s safety before his own is a recurring thing throughout the movie and it starts here.
- Loved Richie flipping out on that kid. And Eddie’s “I knew it!” re: Richie not writing his own material... makes me wonder if Eddie watched Richie’s Netflix specials or whatever without really understanding why he constantly feels compelled to watch this terrible stand up routine.
Thoughts on the Library & Derry Town House:
- I really liked the phone call with Patty but it just made me wish we got more of Stan and Patty interacting earlier. Her voice sounded so broken and I wanted more of their domestic bliss pre-phone call to balance that out.
- Richie and Eddie leaving as a duo and Ben and Beverly leaving as a duo...
- Really not sure how to feel about the “Mike lied to everyone” thread that starts here and continues until the final encounter. Like I get why he did, because he needed to get them there, and he needed to introduce the information slowly to keep them there. They also had every right to be pissed about it, because, you know... informed consent and all. But I’m just not sold on Mike being quite that deceptive.
- Like... Mike literally spiking Bill’s drink? Hated that. Again, I get why he felt it necessary, because if Bill knew and Bill told the others to stay, they’d listen. But... couldn’t they have found a way to get Bill to knowingly and willingly consume the root or whatever? Idk!! I just hated it!!
- Back at the Town House... “Eduardo! Andele!” - perfect. Also perfect? Eddie having two giant bulging suitcases and still needing to go back up for more when literally everyone else has one fucking duffel bag of shit and Ben didn’t even bother bringing his stuff inside. We love over-preparedness.
- Love Ben still after 27 years noticing all the subtle things about Bev, knowing there’s something wrong just by her posture and face, being the one who can get her to talk about it, etc.
- Later, when Bill and Mike are there too and Bev’s telling them about seeing them all die... Not sure how I feel about the Losers only choosing to stay and destroy IT because they’re going to die either way. It makes sense, because Richie has a point when he says they don’t owe Derry shit, but like at some point their motivation to stay and fight needs to change from self-preservation to altruistic bravery, and I didn’t really FEEL that shift happen for everyone.
Thoughts on the Barrens/Clubhouse scenes:
- Poor Jack’s CGI in that flashback scene is the most noticeable out of the entire cast, for the entire movie. No matter how hard they tried, you can still tell he’s twice the size he was in Ch.1 and his voice... fdjhskghs. Oh well.
- Loved Eddie informing Ben about safety codes and violations and then telling him that if he gets hurt Ben will be liable. He’s literally ready to fucking sue Ben. And it was a nice little foreshadowing of his career later on.
- Eddie removing the shower cap once Richie made fun of them all. He really wants Richie of all people to think he’s cool. (Sidenote: I knew Stan would be the one responsible for the shower caps and I KNEW it would be about getting spiders in their hair... that would be my train of thought, too, Stanley)
- Eddie’s Thundercats shirt... you KNOW Eddie watches Thundercats like “okay Bill is Lion-O, Ben is Tygra, Bev is Cheetara, Mike is Panthro...”
- Hammock moment in particular: Eddie is a cat confirmed. Super cute moment. Richie: “I can see your vagina!” as a way to call out how fucking short Eddie’s shorts are. Imagine poor Richie’s inner monologue with Eddie’s legs all over him like that… I’m surprised he could speak at all.
- Adult Richie nominating Eddie as a sacrifice because he’s small and Eddie getting defensive about it… they’re both so aware of the size difference between them and they’re both secretly into it, it’s obvious.
- Richie imitating Pennywise and doing the dance. “Guess I’ll go fuck myself…”
- Richie and Eddie in particular wanting to stick together instead of split up. Y’all are so transparent.
Next: Walking Tours and Henry Bowers
#it 2019#it reacts#stephen king's it#eddie kaspbrak#richie tozier#mike hanlon#ben hanscom#beverly marsh#bill denbrough#stanley uris#initial ch2 thoughts#losers club#ch2 crit
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