#You know what we’re going to do? Pride month part two. July I’m looking at you 😈
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Ahhh. Well. Here we go again. Back to feeling very not-normal about the Amphibia finale.
I’m fine.
I’ll be on the floor feeling soulless if anyone needs me.
#Drawing gay people before pride month is over here I come 😈#But…gay people or Spranne first#What a conundrum. Gay people is always a win….but spranne….#Spranne is also always a win#I think I need to do Spranne.#Spranne reunion is all that keeps me going.#They are the siblings ever 😭#AND THEN GAY PEOPLE#You know what we’re going to do? Pride month part two. July I’m looking at you 😈#Many gay people will be drawn in July.#And always because ✨every day is pride month✨#amphibia#amphibia spoilers#anne boonchuy#sasha waybright#Marcy wu#lgbtq#queer
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in case you missed it, I’m finally getting around to filling old winter holiday prompt list requests from 2021, so we’re having a christmas in July celebration! more details here.
quite honestly, we’re not off to a great start, because the draft I saved in response to the original ask for this one disappeared 🥲 and the ask is nowhere to be found. (but I have a sneeeaking suspicion it could be the same person who requested this Auston blurb because the ask for this one started the same way! here’s hoping they see this 🤞)
first up, a request for Kevin Hayes! this prompt was also requested for Brock, so I’m going to do an edit or moodboard for Brock with the same idea.
Baby’s First Christmas with Kevin Hayes
Last year at this time, you were snuggled with Kevin on the couch in front of the Christmas tree when your mouth was suddenly watering as you found yourself craving a peppermint chocolate milkshake — a flavor you had never in your life enjoyed before. It was only a moment after Kevin chuckled “wait, what the fuck?” that you both looked at each other wide-eyed, gasping simultaneously. Suddenly, as you remembered a recent romantic weekend away in the Poconos, the craving made sense.
And now, Poppy Shelagh Hayes was here, happy and healthy and four months old and ready to take part in her first Hayes family holiday festivities. The tiny girl was the source of not only your random craving a year ago but now the greatest joy you and Kevin had ever known.
Kevin cradled Poppy against his shoulder, bouncing her to the beat of the song playing through the house’s stereo system.
“I don’t want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don’t care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree…”
From where you stood in the dining room setting the table for tonight’s Christmas dinner, you could see the sweet scene unfolding in your living room, Kevin singing to your baby girl, making her giggle and reach out to touch his bearded face. You beamed as he pressed a kiss to her chubby cheek, then continued to serenade her.
“I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby, all I want for Christmas is yoooou!”
Kevin lifted Poppy into the air again and again, airplane-style, as she squealed with glee. Finally, you could no longer resist, and left your task to meet the pair in the living room. You offered a round of applause as the song faded, and Kevin turned your way, grinning.
“Well, if that doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, I don’t know what will,” you mused before sidling up to Kevin and wrapping your arms around his waist. He chuckled warmly and placed a kiss to the side of your head as you took hold of one of Poppy’s tiny hands.
“Best Christmas ever,” Kevin said, looking between his two girls with pride. “You’re a really great gift-giver, you know that?” he asked you as he bounced Poppy on his hip, nodding toward her. You giggled.
“Only the best for you,” you promised, pushing yourself up on your toes to kiss him. “Merry Christmas, Kev,” you whispered.
He nuzzled your nose. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
#christmas in july 2022#requests#my writing#kevin hayes#kevin hayes blurb#kevin hayes writing#kevin hayes fanfiction#kevin hayes fanfic#kevin hayes fic
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The Number Lads Almost Blow Up
July!! What?? How?? Well, Happy Disability Pride Month, y'all 🖤❤️💛💚. But the Number Lads continue on their little ways. Please enjoy a rare Fours PoV chapter 💜! Also a reminder that Zero and all the members of the 118th are not my OCs: they belong to my dear friend @/23-bears. Here is a list to the Masterlist of chapters.
Words: ~4300
Warnings: None! Just some numbers bein pals.
DressedtotheNines: so
DressedtotheNines: question
RedBoiiiii: ?
Leafs: wha
DressedtotheNines: anyone here know anything about zabraks?
Loopy: Trees! Your nerdiness will have paid off!
Leafs: just because my commanders are giant nerds does not mean i am
d0nut man: dude i had a hyperfixation on zabbys for like six months as a cadet, hit me
RedBoiiiii: ZABBYS
Loopy: that’s such a cute name i’m sure they all hate
d0nut man: yeah probably… never actually met one
DressedtotheNines: okay so… which zabraks have the big horns and the weird skin colors?
d0nut man: dathomirian zabraks
DressedtotheNines: cool. follow up: i need a recent history nerd
DressedtotheNines: any ideas why a pair of dathomirian zabraks are after general kenobi?
RedBoiiiii: i mean this is gen kenobi we’re talking about are we sure they’re not in love with him?
Leafs: sevenset seriously
Loopy: PFFT
DressedtotheNines: no they’re definitely trying to kill him
DEATH: Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi: first Jedi to kill a Sith Lord in decades. Happened on Naboo about… 15 years ago? Maybe less? The Sith was dathomirian.
RedBoiiiii: is the commander a secret history buff??
DEATH: No I had to learn everything about the Jedi on Kamino to prepare for the war. Part of command track.
Double Trouble: oh this looks like fun *grabs bangcorn*
Leafs: i’m gonna guess no
DressedtotheNines: ah yes, i can find news articles about it
d0nut man: any videos??
DressedtotheNines: yeah not a chance, this happened on Naboo in the Royal Hangar in Theed when general skywalker was only nine
Loopy: little babey boy
high fives: ARE WE ROASTING SKYWALKER wait, no
high fives: got all excited :(
Loopy: nope we’re finding out who the weird zabraks are wanting to kill kenobi
high fives: sure they’re not in love with him?
DressedtotheNines: YES we are sure they are NOT
DEATH: Fives, show some decency
high fives: okay… :(
DEATH: You never know if Cody might find this chat
DressedtotheNines: SIR–
Double Trouble: COMMANDER
Leafs: is anyone else noticing the commander getting more and more chaotic
Loopy: it’s awesome
high fives: VINDICATION!!!!
DressedtotheNines: for legal purposes, I did not read that
DressedtotheNines: anyway i think i figured out who these zabraks are
Loopy: oooh
DressedtotheNines: so… the guy kenobi “killed” on Naboo…
Leafs: i don’t like those quotation marks
d0nut man: is it thE SAME GUY who’s going after him??
RedBoiiiii: how??
DressedtotheNines: [image file: these_creepy_weirdos]
DressedtotheNines: well the guy on bird legs is definitely the guy he killed on Naboo–same tattoos
high fives: damn did kenobi do that to him? the legs, i mean
DressedtotheNines: i guess?? and the other guy is his… brother?
Double Trouble: is he single
RedBoiiiii: there’s my boy
Double Trouble: the brother i mean. not the angry bird leg dude.
Leafs: do si do
Leafs: what the kark is wrong with you sometimes
high fives: no no hear him out–
Double Trouble: listen i don’t choose this life, i just look at very strong men and am gay, what do you want from me
d0nut man: wait why the hell is that dude so built??
high fives: idk man don’t look a gift fathier in the mouth
d0nut man: dathomirian zabbys aren’t normally that beefy…
Loopy: we’re not worried about the whole “two mysterious new Sith appeared and are going after one of the GAR’s best generals?” not even a little?
DressedtotheNines: I AM CONCERNED they’ve already killed a Jedi Master guys
high fives: fierfek who??
DressedtotheNines: Gallia, on Florrum
Loopy: damn
high fives: so since these guys are going after kenobi… should i worry about skywalker getting dragged in?
DEATH: If I ever had the misfortune of serving in the 501st, I think I would constantly be worried about Skywalker.
RedBoiiiii: yikes
high fives: yeah no that’s fair, it’s what rex does
d0nut man: but WHY IS THE YELLOW ONE SO BEEFY THIS IS BOTHERING ME
CrispyDomino: I’m gone for one PT session and this happens… smh…
-scene break-
They weren’t dug into three feet of mud or snow, and that was a good thing. Fours kept reminding himself of that each time the boredom started creeping back in. The Republic base was only a temporary measure until General Mundi returned from the strategy conference in a few days, then they would be back on the ground, fighting through rows of tinnies like they were supposed to do. He was pretty sure the soldiers stationed on the base were already fed up with the Marines. The Nova Corps were… rough. They didn’t spend a lot of time on leave, so they were sometimes a little hard to keep in line. Commander Bacara and General Mundi were usually the only ones who could really manage it, although in very different ways.
It was even sunny. When was the last time they’d been somewhere decently sunny? Ages ago, probably. Most of the Marines not roped into working on the base spent a good amount of time in their underwear (or without) lying in the sun and enjoying ration bars without added vitamin D. Some of the guys claimed they could taste a difference, but Fours never could.
Regardless, his boredom would be alleviated soon enough when the Numbers holocall started. Those never failed to be interesting. It had taken him a while to get used to the chaos, but it had grown on him. Sure, the commander had originally terrified him, but after they’d all seen his face, he found him slightly less intimidating. Commander Bacara so rarely showed his face.
He’d already scoped out a spot where he could take the call uninterrupted: there was a little room at one corner of base, probably an unused office or something. But it had a window, and this time of day, there was sunlight pouring in, and that was really what he wanted.
When he joined the call, Sevenset, Trees, Do-si-do, and Loops were already in the middle of a discussion about the merits of… fuzzy socks? Seemed normal for them.
“Fours!” Do-si-do exclaimed, pointing at him. “Fuzzy socks: wear ‘em alone or over normal socks? Quick!”
He floundered for several seconds under the intense questioning, looking at the four of them, then at Echo and Fives when they appeared as well.
“Maker, Do-si-do, did you have to give him a heart attack?” Trees muttered.
“I don’t…know?” he finally answered, quietly. He’d never had fuzzy socks.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sevenset asked. “They’re fuzzy socks!”
Fives perked up, finally knowing what they were discussing. “Dude, fuzzy socks are amazing!”
“Yeah!”
Nines and Elevensies’ hologram appeared soon after. The conversation didn’t stop for them.
“But do you wear them by themselves or with other socks under them?” Do-si-do demanded again. At least it wasn’t at Fours.
Echo’s face crinkled in disgust. “What?”
“No,” Fives completed. “You have to wear other socks with them, otherwise you get the fuzzies stuck in your toenails for weeks.”
Do-si-do’s face lit up in triumph, while Sevenset groaned and let his face fall into his hands. The pilot pointed, presumably at his friend. “See? They understand! They’re not weirdos!”
Commander Sixes and Zero finally appeared while Sevenset was… mourning his loss? Again, seeing the commander’s face made Fours do a double take, but he hoped it wasn’t a noticeable one.
Fives continued on the ridiculous conversation like nothing had happened. “Why would you wear them naked? That’s–no! Your feet feel twice as sweaty doing that.” His twin nodded gravely.
Loops added, “But your boots fit better with just one pair on.”
Do-si-do shook his head. “Everyone knows you wear them without boots, indoors, so you can do sprinting hallway slides.”
The commander blinked rapidly, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes with a hand. “Do I even want to know what you’re discussing?”
“Fuzzy socks, sir,” Nines answered.
The commander lifted his head, raising one eyebrow at them. “Fuzzy socks?”
As a new round of explanations and debate started up, Fours noticed Elevensies looking at him curiously, his head tilted slightly to one side. Fours was wondering when someone would notice.
“Hey, guys,” he said. Once most of the others were paying attention, he asked, “Did Four’s hair always look like that?”
Now everyone was looking at him, and he shrunk down in his seat out of habit. Finally, Sevenset smiled and said, “I knew there was a dye job in there somewhere.”
Being back on a regular base meant Fours had been able to get his hands on hair dye again, and had spent the time to redo the two fuschia stripes on each side of his head.
“So you really like the color that much?” Nines wanted to know.
It was true the fuchsia paint of the Nova Corps wasn’t exactly the most popular color in the GAR. Many claimed it wasn’t “manly” enough. He nodded, brushing his fingertips over the strips. “I like it.”
Echo had a look on his face like he was thinking hard. “Commander, didn’t you do a mission with the Marines? That’s how you found Fours, right?”
“Yeah.”
His twin picked up his train of thought. “Why didn’t you tell us Fours had a fun dye job?”
The commander glanced at Fours, then answered, “It wasn’t there before.”
“It grows out quick,” Fours added.
“I feel that,” Do-si-do said with a frown, scrunching his own bleached curls. “It can be such a hassle out there.”
Loops took advantage of a momentary pause in conversation. “So. Strategy conference, huh, guys?”
The remark unleashed a chorus of groans from several members, notably Fives, Do-si-do, and Trees. Fours knew some of his brothers feeling the same way. Most clones didn’t do well with inactivity.
“It’s taking forever,” Do-si-do said, slumping in his seat. “What do they even do in there all day? Look at maps?”
“I feel bad for General Kenobi,” Echo said.
“Why?” Zero asked.
“Oh, he has to deal with a very bored General Skywalker.”
Nines chuckled. “Practically a death sentence.”
Zero suddenly launched out of his seat, slamming his hand down on whatever surface supported his holoprojector, making his hologram shake. “I think I figured out why that yellow zabrak trailing Kenobi is so beefy!” he announced with a huge smile.
There was a beat of silence–understandable, given the non sequitur–then Sevenset smiled and gestured that Zero should continue his thought. Fours would admit, he was curious.
The ARC sat down again, his face looking much like Sevenset’s when he was stirring up trouble. “Okay, so they’re both Dathomirian zabbys, right? Right. Not much known about that planet but what it does have going for it is a very strong connection to the Dark Side of the Force. Now what does that mean–well–”
“Wait, how did you find that out?” Echo interrupted. “The Force thing. You can’t just look that up.”
“Oh, no, I asked my general to check with the Temple Library, and that’s what she got.”
“Oh.” There was a slight hesitation in the reply, which made sense, considering most clones didn’t have that kind of relationship with their general. Fours certainly didn’t. General Mundi would probably be thrilled about a clone asking questions about the Force, but it didn’t mean Fours would feel confident in asking.
“Anyway, the Dark Side on Dathomir is a little funky,” Zero went on, “and the Nightsisters can harness it somehow. Since the Light Side has some healing and regenerative abilities, then why can’t the Dark Side make a normally fairly lean species into a slab of muscle?”
After another pause, Trees said, “That sounds like wild speculation.”
Fours wouldn’t know where to start, so it seemed a little more solid than speculation to him. The only zabraks he was familiar with were from Iridonia, and that was mostly because General Koth had assisted General Mundi at one point. The two Nines had sent holopics of seemed more… evil. In every single aspect of their beings.
“It’s not!” Zero protested. “I did research! I found out more about the guy with robo legs too. His name’s Maul, and the beefy dude is named Savage Opress.”
Nines perked up a little. “Anything useful if he goes after Kenobi with us around?”
“Didn’t you guys tackle Grievous?” Fives pointed out. “Is anything really going to stop you?”
“I was not one of the idiots dogpiling Grievous,” Nines defended himself.
“Why should we believe you?” Loops countered.
“Because unlike my commander and my brothers, I am not a moron.”
Fives cut back in. “But if some evil guy on robo legs came at your general, and you had the opportunity to tackle him for the greater good, would you do it?”
Fours couldn’t help a small smile when everyone turned to Nines, who spluttered indignantly for a second or two. “He has horns! Maybe use a droid popper first–”
“He’s dodging the question!” Zero said, pointing.
“And poppers wouldn’t work!” someone in his background called. Zero turned just in time to be swarmed by three brothers who squeezed in beside him. One, with an intricate black tattoo down his chin, continued, “Regular poppers are too weak for cybernetics. You’d need something strong enough to thoroughly shock a biological nervous system and a mechanical nervous system.”
“Cass!”
“They have to know!”
Zero rolled his eyes. “What are you guys even doing here?”
A different clone, with what looked like aquatic life painted on his armor, patted Zero on the head. “Don’t worry about it, we were just passing by when we heard false information being given out on cybernetic limbs.”
“And also, who is this person with the robo legs?” the third asked. His armor was stunningly painted in a style reminiscent of some of the street art Fours had seen sprayed onto the buildings on Coruscant. “Asking for a friend. Several friends. Maybe.”
Zero looked at him flatly. “Jackal, you can’t lie.” Jackal pouted.
Finally, Sevenset asked the obvious. “Zero, who are these guys?”
“These,” Zero said, “would be the Enigma Triplets.” He introduced them in the order they had spoken. “This is Cass, that’s Beskar, and this is Jackal. They want to hack this guy’s cybernetics.”
“Hypothetically!” Jackal blurted.
“And I know for a fact that they were on duty in a different part of the ship,” Zero went on, “so this leads me to ask again: what are you doing here?”
Jackal and Cass shared an uncertain look. Beskar still looked passive. He must have been one of those clones blessed with the ability to tell a convincing lie.
Their brother was not convinced. “You didn’t hack the call, did you? You weren’t listening in?”
“Hey, don’t hack our frequency,” Sevenset said. “I worked hard for it.”
The “triplets” shared another look, definitely more guilty this time, even on Beskar’s face. Zero put his face in his hands with a sigh, and Beskar patted his pauldron. “We didn’t leave any back doors,” he said, trying to be comforting. “The security is still in place.”
“It better be,” Do-si-do warned, narrowing his eyes. “This chat has saved lives, I’ll have you know.”
Loops tilted his head, clearly thinking of something. “Wasn’t Enigma Company the one where everyone wants to hack General Grievous?” he asked.
All three of the triplets’ faces lit up like Life Day. “Yeah!” they answered.
“You had to ask, Loops?” Zero said with a look of fond exasperation.
“Maybe we can find this new guy and test out our theories on him,” Cass said, ignoring Zero.
The other two agreed enthusiastically. Nines raised a hand. “If you can manage it, I’ll be impressed. He’s got it out for Kenobi, and I don’t think he’s likely to give that up any time soon.”
Beskar nodded. “So what I’m hearing is we need to follow General Kenobi around for a week or so and set a bunch of traps for the angry horny bird man.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jackal replied, completely serious despite several numbers–mostly Do-si-do, Sevenset, and Fives–having dissolved into quiet giggles.
Suddenly, Jackal’s face brightened again, and he waved. “Hi, Commander! How’s the arm?”
The other two crowded in even tighter, squishing Zero further. “Yeah, d’you need any upgrades?” Cass asked excitedly.
Fours was confused. What was wrong with the commander’s arm? He didn’t think he’d missed any of the chat lately, even if he was reading most of the conversations after they’d happened. But he still read them all. He didn’t recall anything mentioning the commander being injured. Only on Umbara, but that was just a scuffle with that deranged Jedi, right?
The commander frowned, folding his arms. “I think you boys have done enough to my arm, thanks. You and the rest of your entire company.”
While the triplets started making excuses, Elevensies tentatively raised his hand.
“Yeah, kid, go ahead and ask,” the commander replied, looking resigned.
The youngest member paused to look at everyone, then asked, “What happened to your arm, sir?”
Everyone’s attention went to the commander. Fours noticed Zero, Echo, and Fives looking with a little less than avid curiosity, and he wondered. He knew Fives couldn’t lie, so he had a feeling those three had known something was different for a while now.
In reply, the commander began removing the armor below his elbow and setting the pieces out of sight. After he did that, he tugged each of his fingers loose from his glove, and pulled it off as well, holding the hand so they could see it. Wherever he was, there was enough light to glint off the metal as he turned his hand this way and that. The interlocking plates protecting the inner workings were black, like his armor, but they shone a dull blue in the light. From what he could see, the metal continued up and disappeared under his sleeve, leaving everyone to wonder how much of his arm he’d lost.
“When the kriff did that happen?” Sevenset asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“Umbara.”
Sevenset’s face went from concerned to horrified. “Umbara?” he cried, his voice pitching up quite a bit.
“What?” Nines demanded. “I didn’t know about this.” He looked at Fives and Echo. “What happened? Did you know about this?”
Echo shrugged. “Maybe a little.” Fives looked guilty, which meant they had both definitely known about it.
Do-si-do gasped. “Wait! Was this because of that Jedi you guys definitely didn’t kill?”
Elevensies’ eyes widened. Fours couldn’t blame him. Trees groaned and facepalmed, probably muttering something about even more liability for treason.
The commander shrugged, unfazed by the outcry as he started putting his glove and armor back on. “Yeah, he knocked me out and when I woke up, my arm was gone.”
“This was months ago, Commander!” Sevenset pointed out.
“How did you get the new arm?” Fours found himself asking. No one in the Marines had any cybernetics, usually because his commander didn’t wait for medical evaluations before transferring an injured clone. He didn’t like to think about how many had “disappeared” afterwards.
“Our commander knows a guy,” Jackal chirped, a pleased smile on his face. The commander nodded, confirming the statement.
Sevenset spluttered for several seconds, which was amusing, before he settled on, “That’s it? Just ‘a guy?’ No explanation of why we had no idea you had lost an arm?”
The commander shrugged. “Nope.” That just made Sevenset more affronted, his mouth falling open in surprise. “Careful you don’t catch any mynocks in there,” the commander remarked as he clicked his vambrace closed.
That made the triplets around Zero crack up, and the noise must have jolted Sevenset out of his shock. He frowned, clearly not happy with the commander, but Fours didn’t think he would get any more information out of him about it right now.
“First Fours dyes his hair, now the commander has a cybernetic arm,” he said. “I’m just saying, I’m feeling a little out of the loop. Does anyone else have some life-altering or otherwise important information they want to share?”
To Fours’ surprise, Trees spoke. “General Unduli got a pet duck.”
“She did what?”
“Yeah, she found this duck and adopted it. Supposed to be our new mascot, I guess. Named it Duckfee. Commander Gree keeps trying to steal it to study it, and Commander Offee has yet to warm up to the name.”
Without warning, Nines, Loops, Trees, Do-si-do, Fives, and Echo all disappeared from the call. Fours sat up a little straighter, along with almost everyone else.
“What just happened?” Sevenset wondered, looking around, eyes narrowed.
“Where are they all located?” the commander asked.
Zero’s three companions had disappeared, but from the way he was talking to people out of view, they were still in the room. He turned to the projector. “Strategy conference, remember?”
“Right,” Sevenset nodded, still wary.
“So… maybe they all had to leave really suddenly?” Elevensies suggested.
“Unlikely,” the commander replied, opening his comm and typing a message in record time. “I’ll ask around.”
“Who, the same mysterious ‘guy’ who got you a whole cybernetic arm?” Sevenset said pointedly.
Commander Sixes raised an eyebrow at him. “No, this is Commander Neyo.”
The ARC mouthed an, “oh,” then leaned back in his seat and folded his arms.
After a few tense seconds, both Zero and the commander said, “That’s not good,” at the same time.
Fours sat forward, and Sevenset was on the edge of his seat, nearly falling off. “What? What happened?”
Again, the two others spoke at the same time, but this time two different things came out of their mouths.
Zero said, “One of our Cricklets might have blown up.”
Commander Sixes said, “The strategy conference almost blew up.”
The three other clones from the 118th rushed to Zero in distress. “Which Cricklet?” Cass demanded.
“The one on that top secret mission, obviously,” Jackal replied.
“No!” Beskar cried, looking over Zero’s shoulder at his datapad. “Not Rootkit!”
Fours raised a finger. “What about the entire conference almost blowing up?”
“Yeah, that seems like the more important piece of information regarding all of our friends just disappearing from our transmission,” Sevenset agreed.
“Neyo says a late cruiser came out of hyperspace, then blew to bits before it could crash into the space station,” the commander announced, reading off his comm. “Haven’t found out what happened yet, but it was definitely rigged as a bomb.”
Jackal’s mouth quirked down. “Was that the top secret mission Rootkit went on? With Skywalker’s droid?”
“Apparently.”
“Huh.”
-scene break-
RedBoiiiii: is everyone okay??? no one blew up???
d0nut man: yeah what happened to the droids?? are they okay??
high fives: it was a fun light show!
CrispyDomino: yeah if you like heart attacks to go with your light shows
RedBoiiiii: DOMINO oh thank the Maker people are okay
Loopy: yeah most of us were in no danger whatsoever
Trees: unless you were the jedi and the guys in the main room
Loopy: true, they were front and center for the shrapnel blast
Double Trouble: DUDE that was WILD some windows almost shattered where i was!!
RedBoiiiii: you are not making me feel better
#1 Boy: what happened to the rest of the droids? Zero’s friends were very worried
d0nut man: they still are
high fives: oh the rest of the droids are fine, it’s just R2 still MIA :(
d0nut man: YAY!!!!!! Rootkit is safe :)
#1 Boy: nu R2 T_T
CrispyDomino: apparently the droids found a commando out there, presumed KIA on sarrish
DEATH: “Found?”
DressedtotheNines: IT’S GREGOR THEY FOUND CAPTAIN GREGOR THEY GOT HIM BACK HE’S ONLY LIGHTLY SINGED and somewhat concussed
high fives: yeah i guess they crashed somewhere and found him
CrispyDomino: but he had some amnesia so that’s why he didn’t come back sooner
Trees: that’s not something you see every day
Double Trouble: i have never seen nines that excited about anything since i met him
DressedtotheNines: Gregor was one of my COs before he disappeared. We missed him.
#1 Boy: aw ^_^
Loopy: that’s sweet
DressedtotheNines: i’m guessing skywalker isn’t too happy about r2 being missing?
high fives: no he is royally pissed
CrispyDomino: yeah no one is surprised by it tbh
Submarine: glad to hear people aren’t dead and just have some head trauma?
CrispyDomino: yeah maybe if skywalker stopped pulling stunts he wouldn’t have so much head trauma
DressedtotheNines: while I won’t argue that point, I do think fours was referring to Gregor
Submarine: yes
CrispyDomino: oh
CrispyDomino: I’m still right
-scene break-
#1 Boy: hey… I know it’s the middle of the night on Trip Zip… but is anyone here to talk?
Double Trouble: i’m here! what’s up kiddo?
#1 Boy: do you know how bad an injury needs to be to be… dangerous?
RedBoiiiii: uhh you mean how bad until they “disappear?”
#1 Boy: yeah… my squadmate… he had an accident on a mission
CrispyDomino: oh kriff, what happened? What’s the injury?
CrispyDomino: i mean here’s the thing: disappearing only happens when the injury gets reported
RedBoiiiii: which happens all the time on Coruscant. All. The. Time.
#1 Boy: really? T_T
Double Trouble: hey hey hey, doesn’t the guard have systems in place so that doesn’t happen???? didn’t sevens tell us that?
RedBoiiiii: well sure, but it’s not a miracle pipeline
#1 Boy: is he gonna be okay???
CrispyDomino: what’s the injury?
#1 Boy: he hurt his arm on a senatorial escort, his shoulder needs surgery
#1 Boy: but it’s not a guarantee fix–they said there’d be lasting damage
CrispyDomino: well. that’s better than it could be, by a long shot
RedBoiiiii: it’s not great, but… it’s not terrible i guess
RedBoiiiii: i might have some contacts to try but… i’m sorry
Double Trouble: I hope it turns out okay!
#1 Boy: i mean i know we’re at war and death happens and all that but…
CrispyDomino: hey it’s never easy. I’m sorry this is happening
Double Trouble: When we can be, we’re here for ya, buddy
#1 Boy: thanks guys <3
The Angry Zebra Bros have arrived.... and what will happen to Elevensies' squadmate??? ooooooo...
@23-bears @theultimatesandwich @mercurydancer @darth-void @rndmpeep @gaeasun and @fate-and-destiny Come read about Duckfee!! if anyone wants to be added to/taken off of the informal taglist!
#i write things sometimes#tcw fanfic#number lads#numbers gang#clone trooper ocs#star wars fanfiction#star wars ocs#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo
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a little drabble that came to mind while chatting to and exchanging juke ideas with @phantomsandsunsets (and by chatting i probably mean shouting in all caps)
please enjoy!
——
beating hearts baby
it had been weeks since the orpheum, weeks since he’d finally been able to touch her, hold her, and cradle her face in the palm of his hands. and although it was awkward and a little hesitant at first, they had finally managed to cross that line of will they won’t they the moment luke had accidentally slipped up and whispered that he loved her in her ear one night after a big gig.
she froze in his embrace, his body following suit, but it only took her a split second before she was tightening her arms around him and declaring her love for him, the words spilling out of her like a waterfall.
ever since then, they had become inseparable (well, more so than usual). julie would wake up in the mornings, get ready for school and make her way to the studio. she would wave goodbye to the boys, get a tight hug and a lingering kiss from luke before she made her way to where flynn was waiting for her. her best friend always looked at her with an amused but exasperated expression on her face, probably due to julie’s slightly dazed one. luke always some pride in that.
as soon as she walked down her street after school headed towards the studio, luke would beat her to it, eagerly waiting for her at the edge of the Molina green jungle. he would scoop her up the moment she was within arm’s reach, crushing her into a hug and pulling her further into the garden, away from any prying eyes - they didn’t want to have to explain to julie’s neighbours how she had suddenly mastered the art of floating.
they would walk hand in hand to the studio, julie filling him in on her day, and luke eagerly listening to every word coming out of her mouth, as if scared he might miss out on a crucial detail that made up the very essence of julie.
the day would go on with the two of them nearly attached to the hip; julie eating her lunch and luke sitting on the kitchen island chattering away about all of the new ideas he came up with while she was at school. julie sitting at her desk doing her homework, while luke scribbled away on his journal on her bed. the two of them at practice, rehearsing new songs with the boys while still making eyes at each other.
and then came their favourite part of the day: cuddling in bed and talking about the past, the present and the future, before julie drifted off into blissful slumber.
luke would spend the night eyes closed, arms wrapped tightly around the light of his life, as he tried to burn the feeling of her against him in his mind.
and although luke would never say this out loud, never dare let julie know in fear of upsetting her, he knew that as long as he was a ghost, there wasn’t much of future for them. he couldn’t envision a future where he got to keep her forever. the thought hurt him more than he could ever put into words, but he loved her enough to know that he was going to have to let her go eventually. he was a ghost, ever unchanging, no heart, no heartbeat; no blood pumping through his veins. julie deserved better - julie deserved someone who was alive.
but for now he would cherish these moments for as long as he could - and at the end of the day, he would always be there for her, no matter what.
if only he knew that he had her heart just as much as she had his non-beating one.
——
and so the days bled into weeks and months and years, and still the boys remained frozen in time, still as 17 as on the day they had died.
julie had just turned 17, and luke was trying very hard not to stress about the fact that she was getting closer and closer to outgrowing him, both physically and emotionally. he tried to keep it together, really, he did, but once they had settled into her bed that night, his agitation was starting to seep through his thinly veiled façade.
“luke? are you okay?” came her quiet question, staring up at him through her lashes with wide brown eyes.
her head was nestled on his chest, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist, while hers was loosely thrown over his stomach. they were like two pieces of the same puzzle: always meant to find each other and slot perfectly into place.
he knew he should lie, knew that he had never planned on letting her in on his inner turmoil, but he was never good at keeping secrets from her - especially when she looked at him that with all the trust in the world.
with a deep sigh and averted eyes, he finally shared the thoughts he’d been keeping to himself for years.
“ya, i’m fine. i just- you could do so much better, jules. you deserve so much better.”
“what do you mean?” he could see the genuine confusion on her face, could tell that this was not a conversation she was expecting. his eyes kept twitching back to hers, the growing worry on her face only making it more difficult for him to continue.
he tried to reply, tried to form the words to make this right, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating. she was looking at him, her eyes scanning his face, most likely taking in the pained expression that was slowly taking over his features.
“luke? what’s wrong?” she lifted her head off his chest, her hand moving from its place on his waist to stroke his face, trying to ease away the lines of anguish.
wordlessly, he pulled the hand that was tucked under his head, and pressed it against hers. he closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath letting the the fragrance that was purely julie overwhelm him. he wanted to drown in her, treasure the feel of her soft warm skin on his, and not think of the consequences.
but he couldn’t do that to her.
gathering her hand in his, he slowly dragged it down his face, down his neck and further down his chest, until he reached the spot where a steady beat should’ve been felt.
he held her hand there, and waited. waited for a sign of understanding, an “Oh,” anything. but when a few seconds had passed and he still hadn’t gotten a reaction from her, he forced his eyes open, dreading the look of pity he assumed would be clear on her face. instead, he only found confusion still evident in her eyes.
“jules you..you just turned 17 today, and i’m still 17. next year you’ll be 18, and the year after that, 19...and even then i’ll still be 17. i- i won’t be able to keep up with you and i- i..i don’t want to hold you back, keep you from living your...” luke averted his gaze again, trailing off as the corner of his lip pulled down, twisting in his attempt to hold himself from fully breaking down.
he tried to focus on her ceiling, then her desk - her window, the pile of clothes laying on the chair - anything so as to reel in his emotions. but as the quiet stretched out in the dark room, luke started to get more and more worried. he tried to focus on his breathing, his mind spiralling as he started to truly believe that julie was about to pull away. surely she agreed? surely she realised that he was only holding her back from fully living the life she deserved?
the silence was killing him.
barely a few seconds had passed before luke was opening his mouth again, willing to fill the silence that was suffocating him. but before he could make a noise, a small hand made its way up over his mouth, effectively silencing him.
he turned his head to look at her, only to be taken aback by the fierce determination that blazed in her eyes. she’d never looked more beautiful.
“you are what i deserve. what we have is what i deserve. it’s what i want in life and i can’t do better because this is already the best.”
“but-” he tried to speak through her fingers but she cut him off before he could get past one syllable.
“no. this isn’t up for discussion, luke. i made my decision that day, years ago, and i’m not changing it now. i have faith that we’ll find a way. fate brought you to me, and there’s a reason for that.” she nodded to herself, her eyes piercing his.
“and what’s the reason?” he mumbled, her fingers still pressed against his lips.
“that we’re meant to be together.” she said it so simply, so confidently, that he couldn’t find it in himself to question it, to argue.
but he still needed to make his point across - needed to make sure she understood.
“jules, i- i’m not saying that we’re not. i just...” he pulled her hand away from his lips, and dragged it back down to where a dormant heart lay.
“i don’t even have a heartbeat. you know it’s yours for the taking, julie. but...it’s not even a functioning heart.” the momentary surge of hope that was brought forward with julie’s words was starting to fade.
he was still dead.
“we’ll figure it out.” he just stared at her, her answer so straight forward, so uncomplicated.
“i-” her hand found its way back to his mouth.
“no, luke. we will find a way.” she cocked her head slightly to the side, a small smile making its way onto her lips. “trust me.”
he gazed at this girl, this angel - his wicked beauty - who seemed to have such unshakable faith in the universe, in him, in them, that he couldn’t find it in himself to fight it anymore. at least not tonight.
he quirked his lips up, before pressing them into a kiss against the palm of her hand.
“okay.”
“okay?”
“yeah. you’re the boss, right?”
her eyes crinkled as her smile grew, spreading warmth in his chest and momentarily chasing away his fears.
“yes, i am.”
and just as she was leaning in, closing the distance between his lips and hers, she stopped. luke raised his eyebrow at her, about to lift his head to reach her, but she suddenly moved, ducking her head and changing direction.
he watched, confused, as her head traveled down his neck, dropping kisses as she made her way further down towards his chest. and there, right above the spot where his dormant heart lay, julie lowered her lips and pressed a soft kiss against his thin t-shirt, lingering there for a few seconds before lifting her head back up.
it was fleeting, but luke swore he could have felt a soft thud against his ribs. he knew it was impossible, probably just wishful thinking, but he had felt it.
“i love you.” the words escape him easily, his chest bursting with the love he felt for this girl.
“i know,” her eyes twinkled mischievously, as she made her way back up his chest to rest her head against the crook of his neck.
where she belonged.
——
in the next few weeks, the strange thud in his chest kept coming back, sometimes once, sometimes multiple times in the span of a few seconds. never continuous.
it kept happening until one day, the thudding picked up and never stopped.
he had her heart, and now she had brought his back to her.
FIN
——
taglist: @moreflowersthanweeds , @thesunsetcurvephantom , @fanfics-she-wrote , @pink-flame , @molinashimbos , @ourstarscollided , @ace-bookworm, @williexmercer , @star-astro , @heademptynothoughts , @i-thought-i-knew-what-love-was , @candycornmgg , @blush-and-books , @radioactive-rosh , @tmp-jatp, @tonightthestarsalign
#jatp#juke#julie and the phantoms#luke patterson#julie molina#julie x luke#my fics#jatp fics#ok now scout- YOUR TURN#thedeathdeelers fics
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Lost Time // Luke Patterson
Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.
Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff
Words: 2.2k
Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!
*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.
Masterlist
THIS IS FROM MY SECONDARY BLOG! REPOST!!
The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.
Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.
Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.
“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”
His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.
“You saw me last night.”
“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”
Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.
Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.
Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.
“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”
The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.
“I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”
“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”
“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”
Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.
1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.
Los Angeles, 2004
Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.
The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.
It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.
“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”
Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.
“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.
“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.
“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”
“Hey Luke.”
Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.
“Yeah.”
“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.
“Grandma!”
A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.
October 1995
You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.
“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.
“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.
The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.
It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.
You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.
“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”
“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”
“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.
Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.
“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.
The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.
“Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.
“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.
“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.
“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”
The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.
“Come on Bug.”
It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.
“I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.
The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.
Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.
“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.
He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.
“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”
Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.
“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.
“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.
“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”
The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.
God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.
“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.
Part Two
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King of Hearts
warnings: none
era: July 2021
❀ Lucas decides it’s time to take JiHo out for her first date
Leaned over the kitchen counter, rolling an orange from hand to hand, JiHo was deeply invested in the conversation she was having with her manager. Not Yebin, but her Esteem manager she was currently living with. The poor piece of fruit had suffered bruises from the few times the young girl had dropped it or tossed it too hard, but JiHo paid no mind as she listened to Sihyun – the manager – talk about the latest gossip in the model and acting industry. Yes, JiHo had the ‘privilege’, or whatever you wanted to call it, to get the insider-scoop about that industry before stuff got public, if it ever went public anyway.
Mid-conversation the two women heard the keypad of their front door beep, indicating that someone was trying to get inside. Usually this would concern the residents, definitely because they were the only ones living in the apartment, but Sihyun knew. She knew JiHo had practically given the password to their house to all her groupmates.
And even though Sihyun wasn’t initially comfortable with 23 men being able to walk inside her house at any given moment, she quickly came to terms with it when all the boys had been nothing but respectful of her privacy and 99% of the time would announce their arrival. The only times they did not announce it was during the early afternoon hours when they knew JiHo would be home alone, or on the occasional moment they would just forget. This time seemed like one of those moments.
“Hello princess!” A loud voice boomed through the apartment from the small corridor. Sihyun who stood on the other side of the counter had a clear visual of the surprise visitor and smiled watching his goofy stance. JiHo however didn’t need to take a look at him to know who the visitor was. “Took you long enough, how many days have you been in Korea already? And you hadn’t visited.” JiHo continued to play with the abused piece of fruit earning a scowl from Sihyun – she knew the girl wasn’t going to eat that orange afterwards and it would be headed straight for the bin.
Soon enough two long, strong arms slithered around the girl’s waist. “I’m sorry, but I’m here now.” JiHo felt her bar stool turn – it wasn’t even a swivel chair – until she was met with a bright smile. She couldn’t help herself but smile back, yet her smile quickly turned into a confused frown when she saw the bag in Lucas’ outstretched hand. “What’s this? A house warming gift? You know it’s a little late for that now.” Lucas just smiled as he shook his head. “We’re going on a date! Now go change.” He pushed the bag into JiHo’s lap.
The girl’s confused expression quickly turned into one of shock, while Sihyun just tried to contain her excited shrieks behind her hands. The 26 year old woman felt like she was watching some sort of K-drama and no one would blame her, since Lucas looked like a handsome main-lead with his hair styled back and wearing a nice pair of jeans along with a crisp looking white button up. Oh how Sihyun wished she could get him to agree to work under Esteem, but he was already successful enough getting modelling jobs without having to look for any. Every clothing brand and fashion magazine in Korea and China had their eyes on him already. Esteem had nothing more to offer to him.
“A date?” The boy – man might be a more appropriate title for him – nodded his head wildly, messing his hair up a bit in the meantime. “Why?” “Because I heard you’ve had a stressful time these past months and so I want you to relax. Plus! I missed you and I want to hang out.” JiHo’s face softened at the confession, but she couldn’t help but feel the nerves flutter in her stomach. “But we can hang out inside and just order some food or something-“ The feigned disappointed shake of Lucas’ head cut JiHo off mid-sentence. “Chenle told me you’ve been playing Valorant every day after your schedules, practise and recordings. It’s time for you to get your butt outside.” Before JiHo could protest a sigh from behind the kitchen counter caught their attention.
Sihyun’s eyes widened as she saw the two young idols look at her, but she quickly regained her composure. “I agree with Lucas. You seriously need to leave this house more.” “I have been! I literally went skateboarding all the time with Yangyang this month.” JiHo defended, yet Lucas faked a cough to grab her attention. “What?” “I’ve heard you haven’t went since that last time when you invited He-“ “Okay! I’ll get dressed, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” JiHo pushed herself of the chair and ran towards her room. Lucas and Sihyun both just smiled knowingly before engaging in a conversation together.
Dresses weren’t completely foreign territory for JiHo, she had worn a handful now for work and she was well aware that her taste in fashion had changed over the past few months. She now wasn’t completely opposed to wearing a dress casually, even though this had not yet happened so far. However, as she looked at the dress she felt her hands get a bit sweaty.
It wasn’t that the dress was ugly, or too revealing. Not at all. It was just that JiHo actually really liked it, she didn’t know how to react. Slipping the yellow fabric over her head, she noticed how the dress fit like a glove, as if it was made for her. It was a silly thought, but somehow JiHo felt like she was having her princess moment right now – which was fitting because this was all thanks to Lucas who liked to call her princess. For once JiHo felt super feminine in a comfortable way and she wouldn’t like to admit it, but she really loved the feeling.
JiHo quickly put on one of the necklaces Lucas had bought her months, maybe even years ago, did her makeup in record time – well the makeup really only consisted of mascara and a lip tint – and made sure her hair looked acceptable to go out. Once finished she walked back to Lucas who was still talking to Sihyun.
“Oh you look so cute!” Sihyun almost squealed causing JiHo to roll her eyes. “I’m ready to go.” The young girl said to catch Lucas attention. He turned his body so he could see JiHo standing beside him. It took a few seconds before Lucas could form the right words to say, taken aback by how different JiHo looked right then. “Wow~ You look even prettier right now.”
The bright smile and breathy words coming from Lucas didn’t fail to make JiHo flustered. She’d already gotten used to Lucas calling her ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’ a lot of times and she knew that he meant it every time, but right now the words just seemed to register differently and catch her off guard.
An open hand “harshly” made contact with Lucas’ arm to which he winced. “Let’s just go.” JiHo mumbled going to the corridor where her shoes and bags were located.
Lucas couldn’t stop himself from helping to choose a bag and a pair of shoes for JiHo which he thought would fit best with her outfit. “Where are we even going?” She asked curiously after slipping on a pair of low, cream, sandal-like heels. “It’s a surprise, but we’re definitely getting some food as well and we won’t have to walk too much. So don’t worry.” He teased, but JiHo couldn’t help but smile. “You know me too well.”
To say that JiHo needed this “date” was an understatement; with how she was beaming and laughing nonstop, Lucas could’ve sworn that if JiHo was locked up in her apartment one more day she would’ve completely lost it. He could visibly see how the tension in JiHo’s muscles melted away. The twinkle her eyes held looked so innocent and childlike, as if she was experiencing things for the first time. And as the duo now sat across each other at a table in one of the nicest rooftop restaurants in the area, Lucas couldn’t move his gaze from the everlasting smile on JiHo’s face boosting his pride.
“I didn’t know there was a butterfly garden in Seoul.” JiHo deeply exhaled, thinking back at how beautiful all the butterflies looked up close. “Did you like it?” Lucas asked, awaiting a positive answer. When JiHo’s eyes widened, Lucas started to get slightly worried, but the girl’s passionate answer quickly eased his nerves. “What do you think? I loved it! Every part. The butterfly garden, the café, and now this restaurant.” She then shoved the piece of steak that was on her fork into her mouth, not waiting until she had swallowed it she continued, “I think this is the best food I’ve ever eaten.”
A low chuckle left Lucas’ lips as he watched JiHo chew and swallow the rest of her food. “I should take you out more often then.” He smiled, mostly to himself, but JiHo perked up at his words. “Hm? Why?” Lucas looked up to meet JiHo’s eyes. “I mean, today was great, so yeah I’d definitely wouldn’t mind doing this again. But why would you want to?” “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this beautifully before.”
At his words JiHo couldn’t help but blush, the comment completely catching her of guard. She wondered how after those years of compliments Lucas managed to make her blush like that, but somehow, today, Lucas had found a way so that any- and everything he said or did would make her feel like a young teenage girl going on a date with her crush.
“You always try to be so professional and even if you have fun and play around sometimes, it’s like you’re always on your toes. Seeing you let go and genuinely be happy, being able to forget about your worries, it looks absolutely stunning on you JiHo.” JiHo looked down at her now empty plate before mumbling, “Did China turn you into a cheesy heartthrob or what’s up with you?” It was barely a question and definitely a coping mechanism – JiHo didn’t know how to react to Lucas sincerity – but Lucas was all for it, laughing at how adorable JiHo looked.
“What? Are you falling in love with me princess?” JiHo looked up with a gasp. “Don’t call me that in public! If someone hears you and recognises us, dating rumours are definitely going to spread and SM won’t be happy.” JiHo scolded, but Lucas could only laugh. She was clearly just trying to avoid the question because she was already very aware that Lucas rented out the whole rooftop for the two of them, no one would be able to hear them. And even if she did forget, with just one glance it would’ve been obvious it was only the two of them there, besides the 2 waiters who were enjoying their own conversation at the bar.
Once the duo had finished their dinner and after they continued talking for about 2 hours afterwards, they headed back to JiHo’s apartment. Luckily all the boys’ dorms weren’t too far away from the apartment, so Lucas wasn’t rushing to get her home or to leave after she arrived safely.
“You really didn’t have to walk all the way up here. You’re acting like we’re in some teenage chick flick.” JiHo smiled as she pushed in the code into her door’s keylock. With that Lucas leaned against the wall next to her – in the most cliché way – while sending her a smile of his own. “Do you not like it?” The keylock dinged at the correct input and JiHo began to push open the door with one hand, the other hand pushing at Lucas’ chest. “Careful or I’ll tell Yuta oppa about this and I don’t think he’d be too happy.” For a second Lucas smile faded as he felt the tiniest bit of fear arise at the though of his hyung’s possible reaction, but his smile returned just as quickly. “I’m sure he won’t after he sees all the pretty pictures I took of you today.”
Again JiHo felt her cheeks flare up just the slightest, but this time purely out of embarrassment. “Don’t show those pictures to anyone.” “But you looked pretty today. And it’s not as if the boys haven’t see you wearing a dress before.” JiHo just shook her head and sent him a warning glare. “But I don’t mind being the only one who’s allowed to see you look this pretty- Ouch! What was that for?” The boy held his arm where he just got pinched. “For being annoying.”
A pout formed on Lucas’ lips but it quickly got wiped away once JiHo pulled him into a quick hug, making sure the front door didn’t fall back into the lock with her foot keeping it open. “Thanks for today. Thanks for being my prince and taking me out on my first date.” Normally JiHo would cringe at her own words, but somehow every ounce of shame was thrown out of the window now that she was around Lucas. “It really was your first date huh?” He smirked, cocking one brow. “Yeah yeah, now don’t go ‘bragging’ about it to the others, okay?” However Lucas just smirked again as he began making his way to the elevator. “No promises princess!” JiHo hushed him, but he was already inside the elevator, doors closing behind him. “Oh God, Doyoung, Yuta and Kun are all going to kill him.” She mumbled to herself walking into her apartment.
Just as the door closed behind her she heard her phone vibrate. And then vibrate again. Until it just became one constant buzz. Looking at her phone she saw the notifications of the NCT group chat along with the words ‘Lucas and JiHo’ as well as ‘date’ and ‘princess’. Shaking her head in disbelief and deciding to ignore the messages until tomorrow, JiHo mumbled to herself again. “At least if I don’t get to him and kill him first.”
---
Side Note: The only reason that this writing is called ‘King of Hearts’ is for me to tell you that you should listen to that song. Winwin’s vocals 👌 Yangyang’s last verse 👌 Hendery during that live performance of this song in Bangkok (he’s so hot and talented, please stan him)👌 How this song was literally made for Lucas 👌 Yes I’ve listened to it 10+ times on repeat one day and I’d gladly do it again!
Also someone tell me to stop posting every other day, why am I doing this to myself also me feeling writing/creative withdrawal when I don’t post😅
Have a nice day/evening/night loves 🤍💚🤍
#jiho.writings#nct 24th member#nct addition#nct female member#nct imagines#wayv imagines#wayv fluff#nct fluff#nct extra member#nct additional member#nct female addition#kpop!addition#kpop!oc
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The Acceptance
This is my submission for @darkmcuficswap @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Holiday swap! My giftee is @opheliadawnwalker3. I hope you enjoy hun!
Summary: After a holiday gone terribly wrong you face a decision with the new year.
Holiday: New Year's/Halloween
Warnings: Non Con (PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU), SMUT, kidnapping, alcohol.
****I have chosen not to warn for everything, please READ AT OWN RISK****
Words: 4000
Pairing: Stucky x reader
December 31st
The snow captivated you, tiny white flakes drifting down, landing without fear on the cold ground. You pinched your eyes shut and bit your lip, wishing you were one of them, free to fall away from this place.
A knock sounded on the door, but you didn’t turn away from the window. The wood opened, the knock only a formality, you had no privacy anymore. Not here. Not with them.
“I brought you something special to wear tonight.” Steve’s voice used to sound like nails on a chalkboard, you missed those days when you would claw at him, scream, try to find a weapon. The fight in you was burning out with the end of the year. “I hope you’ll wear your makeup and hair to fit the look.”
There was a warning in his voice. You dropped your chin in a nod. He approached you from behind, but you didn’t tense as his hands touched your shoulders.
“Good girl.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head. “If you behave we can have a lot of fun tonight. All of us. I promise Doll.”
“If...if I’m good enough will you let me go?” You turned and looked at Steve with hope that dashed away as soon as you saw the anger in his eyes. “To the pool tomorrow? I want to swim some laps.”
A smile crept on Steve’s face. You used to think of him as a symbol of American pride and righteousness, but now all you could see was the wickedness he hid.
“I think your muscles will be plenty sore after tonight.” He dropped his hands to your waist and pulled you closer. “That was a nice attempt at covering the question though, but you know I can’t let that go unpunished. Would you like to learn your lesson now or ruin our festivities later?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Tears spilled as you buried your head into his chest. “Please, let’s have a good night. I’ll be good I promise.”
“Shhhh.” Steve rubbed your back as you fisted his shirt, terrified of what he had in mind. You felt his cock harden underneath his jeans, pressing to your stomach with the hug. “No punishment, but make it up to me right now?”
Steve’s hands slid up your shoulders and he applied a bit of pressure. You nodded your head and locked eyes with him as you dropped to your knees.
He pulled his cock out and you wasted no time taking him into your mouth, flicking your tongue as you gathered saliva to take him deeper.
“There is no leaving here Doll.” Steve’s fist found your hair as he started to work with your movements. “And certainly not for good behavior. I thought you were starting to understand?”
He let out a grunt and you worked his cock faster, reaching between his legs to fondle his balls as his pants slipped down his thighs.
“You are so good. You are the best. Even when you’re bad, you’re too much fun to ever let go.” Steve pushed your head down hard and you fought off the gag. “I bet you’re soaked right now, sucking my cock this way. Just a pool between your legs? Once you stop fighting that and admit how happy you are, instead of asking for a swim asking me to fuck you? Then you might get permission to go, but you’ll never leave because by then you will realize this is where you belong.”
You squeezed your legs together and hated it that he was right. You were dripping. You looked up at him with begging eyes. He nodded and you wrapped your body around his leg, straddling his shin you began to hump him while you continued sucking, taking him deeper and keeping pace with your mouth.
“Fucking beautiful Doll.” Steve bit his lip. “Speed up because I’m going to finish.”
You started to pant as you ground against him, trying to give your clit the pressure and action it needed to send you over the edge while drool ran down your chin. You pressed your tongue hard on the underside of his cock, taking him in with deep strokes.
Your eyes pinched shut, but his hand grabbed your face and you popped them open. Never look away when you cum. He glared at you with the intensity only he had and you exploded around his legs, bits of pleasure making you shake as your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest.
Steve let out a moan and his dick expanded in your mouth before his seed shot to the back of your throat. You flicked your tongue and sucked in your cheeks, knowing better than to let a drop spill.
“Fuck Doll.” Steve pulled out and tucked himself a way. “You are amazing.”
He lifted his leg and you cringed, all too aware of the wet spot on his jeans.
“Don’t worry about it, I’m going to dress nicer tonight anyway.” He kissed the top of your head. “Be ready in three hours.”
You slumped on the floor as he left the room. Your naked body recovering from the orgasm, almost upset it wasn’t more intense. You liked it better when it came from a cock. Your thoughts made you cringe.
You were so used to being naked all the time it didn’t even register any more, and the thought about liking the more intense orgasms?
“What the fuck is wrong with you.” You looked back out to the snow, wondering if you could piece together where it had all gone wrong.
~~
July
“I hate New York.” You plopped down on the park bench next to your friend and pulled out your sandwich. “I’m leaving the city as soon as I can.”
“You’ve only been here six months.” She laughed and handed you a pop. “And you met me right? There’s something positive.”
“I know.” You gave a frown. “I just thought I would get lost in a sea of people, maybe discover myself, but what I’m discovering is I hate crowds, I don’t like my job, and I always feel like someone is watching me.”
“Like a guardian angel?”
“No.” You shook your head. “Like someone is going to jump out of the bushes and grab me. I miss small town middle of nowhere life. Not cut out for the city.”
“Don’t give up yet.” She touched your arm. A loud SNAP came from the treeline and both of your heads whipped in that direction. “Jesus.”
She started to laugh first and then you joined in.
“Come over tonight. We can find you a new job, it’s the land of opportunity.”
“Alright.” You agreed mainly because you didn’t want to be alone.
Your friend continued chatting but your eye’s couldn’t stop looking toward the bushes.
~~
August
“I love New York.” You grinned as you sat down next to your friend.
“You got the job?” She beamed at you.
“I have no idea how or why, but yes. You’re looking at the newest employee of Stark Enterprises.” You kicked your knees up and punched the air. “I mean, it’s a work from home gig, I have no office at the towers, I’m not going to meet the Avengers or anything, but the pay is good and the benefits are nice. Maybe in a few months I’ll have enough to live in a safer neighborhood.”
“Still getting stalker vibes?”
“Big time. I swear I felt someone breathing on my neck the other night.” You touched the spot. “I about sprinted home, but now I’ll never have to leave my apartment.”
“I’m glad you’re calling it home.” She gave you a nudge. “And you will have to leave your apartment! How else are you going to see me? Let’s go out tonight and celebrate.”
“Okay.” You smiled.
“Wow, you must be in a good mood, I don’t know that I’ve ever gotten you out after dark. I was starting to think you were a vampire.”
“I’m a morning person. No clubs, no bars, no crowds, maybe a nice dinner?” You shrugged.
“How are you ever going to meet someone if you don’t do anything social?” She sighed at you. “We’re going to a club. Look nice. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
You wanted to object, but you rolled your eyes. Knowing nothing could make you turn her down. A rock came out of nowhere and hit a pole ten feet from you, the clang making both of you jump.
“Weird.” You scanned the treeline but didn’t notice anything but the wind shaking a few bushes.
“I’m going to call my friend Jonathan. He will have a hot place to go.” Your friend was oblivious to the strange happening.
~~
The club was loud and you felt underdressed. You watched your friend dance away with a stranger and admired her courage, she looked stunning and you looked like you blended in with the wall.
“Can I buy you a drink?” A voice yelled in your ear.
You turned to see a decent looking man, nothing too special, but nothing threatening.
“I’m good.” You shook the full drink in your hand.
“Bartender, two shots or your strongest stuff.” The guy held up his fingers.
“I really, I don’t take shots with strangers. Thank you though.” You started to walk away but he reached out and grabbed your arm.
“Come on, don’t be lame.” The liquid was being poured into the glasses and your stomach turned at the sight. “Take a drink with me.”
Your heart rate went through the roof. You hated saying no almost as much as you hated being grabbed. Your lips parted as you tried to think about how to respond. The internal struggle of obedience mixed with the anger about his hand on you.
Before you could respond the man dropped away. Someone stepped into the middle of you and pushed the man.
“The lady said no.” Was all you could make out over the roar of the club.
The first guy tried to punch the second, but he grabbed his fist and crumbled it. You looked at the scene in horror, clutching your purse.
Violence, alcohol, music, your head began to spin. You turned and walked outside, feeling a panic coming on. The heat of the evening hit your face and you climbed into the nearest taxi, texting your friend as you got a ride home, vowing never to test the New York nightlife again.
~~
September
“We’re going to have to stop having lunch on park benches soon.” You patted the puffer vest you were wearing.
“About that,” she took a deep breath. “I didn’t know how to break it to you, but we’re going to have to stop having lunches altogether.”
“What?” Your eyes went wide. “You’re joking right? You’re like my only friend in the world.”
“Out of the blue, a recruiter offered me this dream position.” She turned and grabbed your hands. “The pay is amazing and that’s not even the best part, it’s like the job was tailor made for me, but it’s in Paris.”
“Paris?!?!” Your jaw dropped.
“We can facetime and you can visit?” She was having a hard time hiding the glee that matched the despair you were feeling.
“Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.” You smiled, not wanting to ruin her moment, hating New York again.
~~
October 31
You taped shut the last of the moving boxes. It was sad seeing your entire life packed up, unable to notice how small the stack was. All the furniture came with the apartment, you weren’t much of a shopper and never got around to getting that cat.
Your phone rang and you recognized your boss’s phone number, picking up right away.
“Hello, Mr. Jones, I’m all packed up.” You set the last box down.
“Good, good. The moving van will be there tomorrow early, we’re looking forward to you joining our team.” His voice sounded oddly familiar, but you kept brushing it off. “And you’re still coming to the party tonight?”
“About that.” You hit your laptop’s button and saw the invitation. “I’m really not much of a party person, and I never got around to getting a costume.”
“I was clear when I offered you the promotion. We’re a small R&D team, we work very closely. It is important you bond with us. People are expecting you, costume and all.” His tone was almost scolding.
“Well, we’re going to be living together. I’m sure there’s plenty of time. I’d rather get settled first.” You almost turned the promotion down because of that fact, but then you looked into Stark Corp’s R&D, a team of 100 people who worked around the clock, if you put in a year there you were golden. It was impossible to turn down even if it did involve living in some town upstate.
“The car is picking you up in an hour. You will be here in five. If you don’t have a costume, then dress nice. People are looking forward to meeting you.” He paused. “I am looking forward to having you.”
“Alright.” You told yourself you heard him wrong before hanging up the phone.
There was something off about the situation. Like you wished you had someone to tell where you were going to stay for the next year. You hadn’t spoken to your friend since the Paris move, and there was really nobody else in your life to tell. The foster parents you hadn’t spoken to in years? The ex who broke your heart? The former best friend he slept with? Maybe the crazy old lady down the hall?
With a tap of the keys you pulled up the email from “Tony Stark'' offering you the position. This was a top level fortune 500 company. There was nothing to worry about. You were being paranoid and needed to accept that your dream was coming true.
~~
This car felt too important for you. The driver was friendly, but you ran out of things to say an hour ago. You glanced at your phone, noting that you were getting close. Then you noticed a no service bar in the corner.
“I’ll have to get a new plan.” You tried to call a random number and got nothing. “No service.”
“No, this is a top secret area.” The driver turned and smiled at you. “No service from any provider. Nothing surrounding the house for 10 miles in any direction, even then it's only a few hunting cabins. Most are abandoned. You must be a very special lady to make the team.”
“I don’t know much about the team, only what the website said, and Mr. Jones of course.” You didn’t think of the isolation when you accepted.
“Tony had the area declared a no fly zone by the US Government.” The driver tapped the wheel. “If you look to your left soon you’ll see the fence. It’s impenetrable.”
Tony? The driver must be high up if that was how he referred to Stark. Your thoughts were distracted when you saw the metal and the wiring shine in the distance.
“This place looks like Jurassic Park.” The driver slowed as the gate opened ahead. “I’m starting to think I’ll get kicked out in a week.”
Anxiety flooded you, you weren’t ready for this. You’d worked there what? A few months? You weren’t this smart, what could you contribute?
“Don’t worry, I have it on good authority you’re perfect for the role.” The driver grinned, it was so genuine and infectious you smiled back and your nerves calmed.
“I understand why people call you Happy.” You relaxed. “It fits.”
“So I’ve been told.” He looked back to the road. “I probably won’t see you again, it was a pleasure driving you though. I’m sure Mr. Rogers will take good care of you.”
“Rogers?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Whatever generic name you want to use, Smith, Mason, Miller, Brown. They’ll assign you one too.” Happy shrugged. “You’re a VIP now.”
A wave of stupidity washed over you. It never occurred to you that pseudonyms were being used.
The house started to come into view. You grabbed the headrests and moved forward. It was a mansion, almost a castle. The place was modern, as if it was made with black glass somehow.
“This is bigger than a football stadium.” You had to crane your neck to see up.
“Just a house Miss.” Happy pulled into the drive. “Nothing you can’t handle.”
He put the car in park and winked at you. All your nerves were calmed, this was perfect. Your dream come true. You were picturing a college dorm situation, but one thousand people could live here, let alone one hundred.
“Thank you.” You opened the door to the car as Happy left and went for the trunk.
You started to stand when something fell off your lap, you chuckled to yourself, your nerves being replaced with excitement as you put on the witch’s hat. A simple accessory that turned your black dress into a costume.
There was a warmth growing in you as you walked up the massive steps, taking in the building in the night sky, almost some primal feeling telling you that you were home.
Happy pushed open the door and set your bag down. You followed after, entering a great hall, you were beaming ready to meet your new team, but your smile faded when you saw it was empty.
“Where is everyone?” You looked at the staircases that wound up to either side, the echo of your voice giving you an empty feeling.
“You got her here in one piece?” Mr. Jones’ voice boomed across the bricks.
“As promised.” Happy shrugged.
“And she wore a costume?” A new voice made you look to the other stairwell.
Your brain tried to register the voices with the faces, but the faces took over.
“Steve Rogers and James Barnes?” Avengers. Real ones. You kept looking back and forth. “What? How important is this place?”
You didn’t know whether to thank them for all they had done for the world or question whether you deserved to be on this team.
“Now that you’re here Doll, it’s the most important place in the world.” They both arrived at the bottom at the same time.
“My cue to leave, have a nice night gentlemen.” Happy sounded so distant as the door shut behind him.
“I’m, my name is, this is so embarrassing.” You let out a laugh as you brought your hand to your chest. “I didn’t think I would be meeting Avengers.”
They walked toward you, both of them as if they were circling you.
“We know your name Doll.” Captain America reached out and touched your chin.
You backed up and ran into the Winter Soldier.
“We know everything about you.” The brunette’s hands slid down your arms and stopped at your wrists. “I’ve been waiting for this for months.”
He placed a kiss on your neck and you started to step forward, but ran right into Captain, who again touched your chin, this time with a little more force.
“What?” You didn’t know what else to say.
“It was getting too difficult to stay away..” Steve pressed his forehead to yours. “Welcome home Love.”
“I’ve…sorry, what?” James’ tongue slid up your neck and you gasped, Steve used the opportunity to slide his own into your mouth.
You were so confused, but reacted on instinct, trying to raise your hands to shove Steve away only to be met with a tighter grip on your wrists by the man behind you.
Steve let out a chuckle while continuing to kiss you as his hands found your breasts. He kneaded them as your brain tried to catch up with your body, his fingers finding your nipples through the material of your dress, you let out a squeal as he gave a pinch.
“Remember, I won the bet.” James’ teeth grazed your neck as Steve stopped the kiss. “She wore a costume.”
Steve scowled as he walked away from you.
“What’s happening?” You tried to fight the fog. “Where am I?”
“You’re home.” Steve walked toward a chair and then sat down, you were too busy watching him you didn’t realize a wrist had been freed until the sound of your zipper going down snapped you back to reality.
Instead of trying to run you attempted to hold the garment up. Anger flashed on Captain America’s eyes as the Winter Soldier tore the entire thing away.
“No clothes. None. I wanted her naked all the time.” Steve reached into his pants and pulled his cock out.
You whimpered at the sight, he was large. Wait what? You were too concentrated on the wrong thing and you didn’t notice your bra sliding down your arms. You started to turn around to shove James away, but he used your motion to flip you over his shoulder and run down the hall.
SMACK! His hand hit with your ass as you bobbed over his shoulder, too shocked to really react. You lifted your head to see the witch hat on the stone floor.
“I’m so proud of you for wearing the costume.” The man dropped you, but before you hit the floor his hand was on your back, laying you down on a fur rug. “But I’ve been proud of you for months. My girl.”
You tried to spin to your stomach and wiggle away, but he placed a cold hand around your neck, not tight but enough to pin you in place as you shoved at his shoulders.
“It’s why I get the honor of fucking you first.” His other hand found your panties and shredded them with ease. “Steve didn’t think you’d listen, but I know what a good girl you are. How perfect. Our good girl.”
“Stop rubbing it in Bucky.” Steve’s voice made you arch your neck to see him sitting in a chair, stroking himself.
A finger ran up your slit and your attention went back to Bucky as you gasped.
“She’s soaked.” He looked up at Steve with a grin.
Everything came flooding down at once and you let out a scream as you renewed your struggles. The men laughed.
“At least give me a show while I tell our new teammate about her position.” Steve dropped to his knees.
Hands were on you as if they had practiced it, James moving to his back so his legs were in front of you while Steve guided you up so you were facing him. The sound of a zipper came again and you felt Bucky’s cock brush against your thighs as Captain America positioned you.
“We like to keep an eye on our people.” Steve spoke as Bucky’s hands grabbed your legs and moved you so your entrance was right about his rigid cock. “And we’ve been watching you for some time now.”
Metal and flesh fingers were on your waist while Steve’s hands went to your shoulders, pushing you down. You moaned as Bucky’s thick head slid inside with more ease than you were aware.
Everything was happening too fast. You struggled to breathe, unsure what to focus on: the cock sliding inside of you or the information being displayed.
You pictured the park, the feeling of a stalker, the fight in the club, the dream job, the better job, your friend’s Paris position.
“That’s good Doll.” Steve licked his lips. “That understanding. You knew. You always knew, but you kept inviting us in.”
“She feels so fucking good.” Bucky lifted his ass while you continued to lower on his cock, feeling it hit your cervix you let out a cry. “She was made for us.”
“You craved us, didn’t you?” Steve cupped your face as Bucky began to fuck you. “You knew what this was. Admit it?”
You didn’t understand anything. You knew nothing.
“No, stop that.” Steve pressed his lips to yours while Bucky dug his fingers into your hips, making you bounce on him. “I see the struggle in your eyes. Stop denying the truth.”
You moaned as Bucky began to make your pussy quake, a coil tightening in your stomach.
“Let her struggle.” Bucky groaned as he held you down, rocking his cock back and forth. “We’ll guide her down the right path.”
“I...I...don’t.” You thought you might have been trying to say no, but your body was being taken over, your mind losing control.
“Oh you do Doll.” Steve brought his thumb to your mouth and you parted your lips as he dragged it along your tongue. “You know. You know this is what you need. It’s been almost a year since you came, you don’t even touch yourself.”
Your eyes went wide with that personal information.
“We know everything.” Steve lowered his wet thumb. “Never lie to us, because we know.”
You cried out as he pressed his digit to your clit, rubbing in circles with such pressure as James railed into you.
There was no warning as you came, your body shaking. Your vision blackened, making you collapse against Steve, shivers sending you to another dimension. Bucky bottomed out, joining you, contracting and filling you with his cum.
“Wait.” You didn’t lift your head, too lost for such a simple task. You didn’t get what was happening, but you knew one thing for sure. “I’m not on birth control.”
“Oh yes you are.” Bucky hit your ass with a smack as he lifted you off of him.
Steve spun to the carpet, replacing Bucky’s cock with his own as he cradled you to his chest. You moaned while he filled your over sensitive pussy once again.
“For a few months now.” Steve left your chest pressed to his while he lifted his hips, his pelvis gracing your clit with every thrust. “You have nothing to worry about now Doll. You’re home.”
~~~
December 31
You hated your naivety, you hated what they had put you through. But what you hated most of all was the denial.
The denial that you liked it. You loved the way they knew what was best, the way they punished you, the way they rewarded you, the way your life had stability for this first time.
When the knock sounded on your door you said goodbye to the snowflakes at the window. Maybe you were more like them than you wanted to admit, they would melt someday and you had to accept that you already had.
You turned to see Bucky and Steve walk in wearing Tuxedos. They both frowned that you weren’t wearing the beautiful dress Steve brought you, but no doubt confused by the time you spent getting your makeup and hair ready. Rolling your shoulders back you accepted your fate.
“Will you please fuck me?”
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Joshua Jackson interview with “Irish Independent”
It was during a childhood visit to his granny’s house in Dublin’s Ballyfermot that Joshua Jackson smoked his first cigarette.
“My memories of those visits to Ballyfermot are quite sweet really,” the Dawson’s Creek actor recalls. “I was always running around with the neighbourhood kids, getting into trouble. Not bad trouble, just little-kid trouble. Although, technically it’s where I smoked my first cigarette, so that in itself isn’t the sweetest memory.”
Jackson’s handsome face surges with deep laughter lines and quiet dimples at the mention of mum Fiona’s home turf. “She might prefer I’d say she was from Chapelizod”, he jokes, before proudly pinning his mum’s allegiance to “Ballyer”.
Was the young Canadian treated like a shiny, exotic object by the local kids? “I was a bit, but I became less exotic the older I got. Culturally, I was so far away from an Irish kid but in a little pack of children, everyone finds their level. It also helped that I had my own cousins, my own blood, around with us. I had that family connection so I never felt too exoticised.”
An entry on his IMDb profile suggests his late grandparents Rosemary and Patrick were opera singers in Dublin, indicating that performance runs in the genes. The actor seems unaware. “Mum tells me they used to sing to each other a lot. My grandparents lived in council housing with a little kitchen out the back, garden right outside, and they would sing to each other through the window as he was out pottering about while she was cooking.
“But he was known more as a snooker shark around Ballyfermot. And my grandmother, she was known as a sainted mother of seven.”
Having welcomed his first child, Janie, with his wife, the actor Jodie Turner-Smith, last year, it’s obvious family is paramount for 43-year-old Jackson, as he Zoom-calls from a rich hotel suite with dark wallpaper and plump cushions in the background. It stems from an evident bond with his mum, whose presence lovingly peppers our conversation. Just 16 when she left Dublin, Fiona Jackson travelled through Paris, Amsterdam and Geneva before embracing the vibrancy of London’s Swinging Sixties and ultimately making for Vancouver in her early twenties.
In an entry on her blog, she speaks of falling for “the spectacular beauty of snow-capped mountains and the Pacific Ocean” and ultimately scoring an entry-level position at a Canadian talent agency. It led to a career as a successful casting agent, working on film classics including Carnal Knowledge with Jack Nicholson and McCabe & Mrs Miller with Warren Beatty and Julie Christie.
She met and married Joshua’s father, John Carter, and the young family moved to Los Angeles. Sister Aisleagh was born shortly before John walked out on the family, leaving a profound effect.
“My father, unfortunately, was not a good father or husband and exited the scene,” the actor disclosed last year, before adding it’s something he “will never get over”.
Young infants in tow, Fiona returned to Vancouver and, having found early success in casting, helped contribute to the foundation of the burgeoning “Hollywood North” industry on the Canadian west coast.
Accompanying his mum on set, young Joshua’s interests were piqued. “She introduced me to this world and saw from a young age that I enjoyed performing in a way that kids do. She allowed me the opportunity to step into her work world, but it was also very clear that it was work.”
He appeared as an extra on MacGyver and as a child actor’s double in The Fly II, and Fiona could see her son’s talent and genuine desire to impress. So she allowed him to audition. However, permission came with strict caveats.
“I don’t think my mum would have ever put me anywhere near the entertainment industry if I didn’t have something to offer to it. And not just for myself; she’s a prideful woman and didn’t want to be embarrassed by her kid.”
Casting 1991 melodrama Crooked Hearts with ER’s Noah Wyle, Fiona gave Joshua a chance to shine. Impressing the filmmakers, the then-12-year-old secured the part, setting him not only on a path to stardom but away from the troubles of his teen years.
“My mother gave me the guard rails I needed at that time and also recognised, being a working single mum and with me a young boy, transitioning into a teenager, I needed structure in my life. I needed something that I was passionate about and had a respect for, because I was kind of a typical teenage disaster.
“I look back on those times in my life and the two parallel tracks I was running on. On the one hand, getting into all sorts of trouble and, on the other hand, my professional life, where I showed up and learned my lines and did my job in order to be respected by the adults I was around. If I hadn’t had that professional side of my life, the other side would have taken over, and Mum saw that. Who knows where I would have ended up?”
So Jackson was a full-on teen delinquent? “Yeah, I was, to a certain extent. It was relatively innocent — nobody died — but I was a teenage boy who didn’t have a father in the home, didn’t have a man to be scared of, frankly, and as a teenage boy, I think that helps. My mum had to work and she wasn’t always in the house so I learned to get into more and more trouble. I got into just enough trouble to have a good time and learn some lessons but if I hadn’t had my work life, I might have tipped over into the kind of trouble that you don’t come back from.”
Three decades in and Jackson remains one of the hardest-working, most recognisable actors in the game. Hitting pay dirt at 18 as Dawson’s Creek’s Pacey Witter — the wisecracking, teacher-bedding antithesis to James Van Der Beek’s beleaguered titular drip — the actor was a revelation: the soul and bite of a seasoned character performer in the guise of relatable poster-boy idol.
Teens swooned, so did the industry, and alongside Van Der Beek, Michelle Williams and Katie Holmes, Jackson had Hollywood at his feet.
A string of popcorn offerings followed — Cruel Intentions, Gossip, Shutter, Cursed — some quality, others derivative, with the small screen ultimately best utilising his skills. A five-season run on sci-fi series Fringe was followed by an outstanding turn on Showtime’s The Affair. Last year, he maintained a brooding presence opposite Reese Witherspoon and Kerry Washington in Little Fires Everywhere. And this year, he takes on arguably his darkest work yet in Dr Death.
The new miniseries is based on the non-fiction podcast of the same name, and Jackson portrays Christopher Duntsch, a former spinal surgeon who maimed 33 patients owing to gross malpractice while operating in hospitals in Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas. Two of these patients lost their lives. Convicted in 2017, Duntsch is currently in prison and serving life imprisonment. He still maintains his innocence, with his defence arguing that he was merely a bad surgeon, not a criminal.
Exuding a simmering malevolence, the actor showcases Duntsch’s disturbing complexities and terrifying behaviour as a narcissist and sociopath with a keen insight. Did Jackson meet with Duntsch? “I wanted to, but that was going to be really difficult because he’s appealing his case and his lawyers would’ve advised against it. And as I got deeper into the materials and podcast, and got a better understanding of the man, I don’t think it would’ve helped because he still really believes he’s the victim of his own patients, and the lawyers and the legal system. I’m not sure asking a liar for the truth gets you any closer to the truth.”
When it came to the victims, Jackson wanted to maintain a respectful distance. “I didn’t need to drag them through those awful memories again and I’m always a little dubious about asking people to delve into the worst moments of their life just to satisfy my curiosity. The questions had already been asked thanks to the podcast.”
Dr Death came at the right time in the actor’s life. New baby daughter Janie offered a crucial respite from the intense, and often dark, six-month foray into Duntsch’s malignant psyche.
“Inhabiting Mr Duntsch was an ugly space to live in for six months. If I’d been coming home to an empty house every night, it would have been a pretty bleak existence. It was so much better to come back to a loving home. My one-year-old doesn’t give a damn what I was doing that day. She just wants to be loved and hugged and cuddled, and it was the perfect antidote when some days were particularly heavy.”
Recently Jackson confessed that the Dawson’s Creek cast won’t be returning for a retrospective reunion like the Friends stars did earlier this year. “If you put our mid-forties selves together on a couch now, with our creaking backs, it might shock people.”
Quizzed on an actual reboot of the drama, Joshua reckons he’s simply too old to replicate the iconic rapid exchanges of dialogue between the garrulous young characters. “We were like The West Wing for teenagers,” he laughs, referencing Aaron Sorkin’s hit political TV series, also infamous for speedy script delivery. “My 43-year-old brain couldn’t do a show at that pace. Back then, we were doing seven, 10 pages a day and, to deliver dialogue at that speed, you have to have a certain mental capacity for that, and I don’t have it anymore. That’s the real reason why we’re not doing a reunion — I’ve become too dumb to keep up with that script.”
He remains in touch with his DC co-stars, including Holmes, his one-time girlfriend of two years. There’s even a text chain. “It goes through spurts every once in a while. I’ll have a bunch of messages on it and then it’ll go dormant. We’re like college friends — there are moments we’re all in contact and then long, fallow periods as we get on with our lives.”
While maintaining a busy slate, Jackson’s overwhelming purpose continues to circle the women in his life. Turner-Smith is currently shooting a new movie with Adam Driver and Greta Gerwig, so he’s assuming full-time dad duties. It’s an equitable arrangement given the flexible needs of their individual commitments, and one he appears content with.
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Big surprise~USWNT x Baby reader
Prompt: Team finds out baby r is dating a famous person via instagram live.
Requested by: @khiaraaa-in-spacee
Y/N PRO
Being a professional soccer player and playing in both the NWSL for the Orlando Pride and at the national level for the USWNT at the age of 18 is a great honor and privilege, I got to play the sport I loved nearly everyday and I was able to make a living from it, but it can be exhausting at times. Which is why I’m glad that we have a few weeks off before I have to report to the next national camp for our next set of friendlies. I live in LA with my girlfriend Billie Eilish and being able to spend some quality time with her after months of being on the go is great. The only drawback is that the team has no idea I’m dating someone famous, I have kept that part of my life private, It’s not that I don’t trust them, I do; they’re like sisters to me and the older players even sometimes act as parental figures, but Billie and I agreed to keep our relationship as private as possible and agreed that when the time was right, she would meet the girls.
Speaking of Billie she and her brother Finneas were working on some music in the little studio like set up she created in our basement so I decided to bring them a snack.
“Hey babe, I thought I’d bring you guys a snack since you’ve been working so hard.” I said, handing her the bowl of berries, and handing Finneas a bowl of popcorn.
“Aw, thank you baby. That was very sweet of you.”
“How’s the song writing going?”
“Slow but we’re making progress.” Finneas said
“Good to hear.”
I spent some time with them looking at what they had written out so far and listening to some of the beats they thought of using before excusing myself to go do an instagram live. Even though I was technically on vacation I made sure to still engage with fans and I looked forward to the weekly lives. I had previously sent out a tweet and posted on my instagram story that I would be on live soon so I knew a substantial amount of people including some of my teammates were bound to be on fairly quickly.
“Hey guys! How’s everyone doing today?”
I watched as the comment section was flooded with people telling me how they were or sending in heart and heart eye emojis.
“I’m doing great, can you say happy birthday Abigail?” I said under my breath.
“So glad to hear it! Happy birthday Abigail!” I said
I continued to read the comments as they came in, squinting as I did so and laughed when I saw a familiar name pop up.
“Hey Alex, no I’m not blind. I’m squinting because the font is small.”
She sent several laughing emoji’s in return.
“Hey Pinoe, Jess, Abby, Julie, Moe, Christen, Tobs, Tierna, Mal, Sam, Emily and Rose.” I said, out of breath after reading all their names off in one go. My eyes widened when I noticed several more of my teammates had joined the lives.
“Ah, and Hi Becky, Carli, A.D., Lindsey, Crystal, Allie, Ashlyn, Ali, Alyssa, and Kelley.”
I was practically wheezing by the time I finished listing everyone’s names.
“The gang’s all here I see.” I laughed.
I saw several of their comments popping up, all of which seemed to be referring to the same thing.
“Breath little one.”
“Drink some water, please.”
“Are you okay?”
“That wheezing doesn’t sound too good.”
“Go get your inhaler.”
I rolled my eyes playfully at their fussing, even from miles away they found a way to baby me. I was the youngest on the team so they felt the need to be protective.
“Guys relax, I’m perfectly okay. I just forgot to breath for a sec. And I’m 18 years old Chris, I’m not little.”
Several of them sent comments back disagreeing which I chose to ignore.
“Okay guys send in your questions and I’ll do my best to answer most of them.”
Comments began flowing in and I started to answer some of them.
“What’s your favorite holiday?”
“Well I’d have to say Christmas for sure. Not only is it a time for me to spend with family and the food is great I’ll admit I like getting and giving presents too.”
“ Who would you want with you if you were deserted on an island?”
“I’d have to say… Alyssa and… Julie. I’d want those two with me because Alyssa would keep mostly to herself and not drive me crazy like Kelley or Emily would with their endless energy but she would be a great conversationalist and she would share her warmth by cuddling with me, and Julie because she’s tough as nails and I feel like she would be good at gathering food and finding a way to provide shelter.”
Alex, Pinoe and Tobin voiced their offense at not being chosen while the others, minus Christen just said they would let me fend for myself if we ever got stranded together. Christen said
“They are excellent choices and I agree.”
Julie and Alyssa gloated
“Ahaha we’re her favorites.”
“Now we know who the favorites are and I can’t say I’m surprised that I’m one of them.”
I continued to answer questions, they ranged from asking what my favorite color was to what my best moments the field was. I was in the middle of answering a question about my most embarrassing in-game moment was when Billie suddenly came running into the room, excited to show me something.
“Hey babe, Finn and I got down this amazing chorus, wanna hear it?”
I tried to find a way to mute the live while I talked to her but it was too late. She realized what I was doing, and her eyes almost popping out of her head. She looked at me worriedly while I just laughed nervously. I knew everyone had heard her call me “babe” because they began asking who I was dating and begging to see them. Emily commented
“Yeah Y/N spill the tea.”
Billie and I just stared at each other, slightly communicating with our eyes before she nodded and made her way over to sit next to me. We were both nervous but knew that everyone had to find out sometime, and while this wasn’t the way we had planned for the girls to find out I hoped they were cool about it.
“Guys… I’d like you to meet my girlfriend Billie. Billie Eilish.” I said to the camera.
“Hey guys, this wasn’t planned but I’m glad to be here.” She said
What followed was an outpouring of support and joy from the fans and I was incredibly relieved, we both were. I didn’t see any comments from the team and that was slightly concerning. I knew they were all still on and paying attention. Did they not like her? Were they mad at me for hiding my relationship from them?
I smiled at the camera, both Billie and I thanking fans for their love. I hadn’t told her this yet but I was starting to worry about what my teammates really thought of Billie. After answering a few more questions we decided to call it a day and promised to do lives together often.
“That was fun! Sorry for putting you on the spot like that I totally forgot you were doing a live.” Billie said coming up to hug me.
“It’s okay, everyone seems to love you and support us.” I said absentmindedly scrolling through my phone waiting for something, anything from the girls.
“You okay Y/N?”
“Yeah I’m okay, I just haven’t heard from the girls since you came on the live and none of them said anything after.
“Wait the whole team was watching?”
“Yeah they were.”
“And they didn’t say anything after I came on?”
“Nope.”
“Do you think they have a problem with us being together?”
“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure.”
After some more waiting I finally got a text from Morgan in the group chat.
“Group Skype in 5, be there.”
Yikes that was a little cold. I wasn’t one to be afraid of my teammates, except on the rare occasion one of them was in a mood but I couldn’t help but be nervous to talk to them. I told Billie what was going to happen and I could tell she was nervous too but she decided to wait in the other room to give us some privacy, only joining if requested.
“I’m sure it won’t be long. I love you.” I said kissing her.
“I love you too.”
As soon as I joined the call it was silent.
“Hi guys.” I said timidly.
“Y/N.” Kelley said
“So… A famous girlfriend huh?” Megan said
“Yeah… she’s really talented and I’m so proud of all she’s accomplished. Our relationship is really special to me.” I said more confident than before.
“She seems very nice.” Chris said
“She is so kind and sweet.”
“Does she make you happy?” Mal asked me in a serious tone.
“Incredibly.”
“Then that’s all that matters to us.”
“I-I thought you guys were mad at me or didn’t approve of her.”
I saw several of the girls’ eyebrows furrow and they all looked confused and concerned.
“What made you think that?”
“Well for starters, none of you commented anything after she came on the live and then after no one texted me for over an hour. I really thought you were upset or something.” I said sadly
“Aw, bub. We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to make you feel like that. Looking at it now, we see how it looked but we were just texting each other, trying to plan a way to fly out and surprise you and meet her in person. We got caught up in taking about how you, the baby of the team; our baby is dating someone as famous as Billie Eilish, much less dating anyone at all.” Alex said, everyone else agreeing
“You guys didn’t think I could be dating anyone?” I asked slightly offended
“No, no. We didn’t mean it like that. We just meant that you did such a good job at hiding it from everyone and you never talked about liking any girls or boys or non-binary people that we thought you weren’t interested in dating at the moment.” Ali said.
“Oh.”
I understood now why they thought that, I had never shown any interest in anyone but it was simply because I was already taken and saw no reason to entertain, think about or talk about the idea of anyone else.
“We love her as an artist and are sure she is a great person, especially if she makes you happy.” Allie said.
“Would you guys like to talk to her right now? She’s just in the other room, I can go get her.”
“OMG YESSSS”
“ABSOLUTELY”
“WHAT KIND OF A QUESTION IS THAT?” Crystal, Sam and Abby all boomed
“And everyone else who isn’t trying to break your eardrums agrees too.” Ashlyn said giggling.
“Next time warn earbud users will you? Geez” Megan said rubbing her ears
“I’ll be right back.” I said chuckling at their antics.
I went into the room next door to get Billie so she could say Hi to the girls.
“Hey babe.” I said
“Hey, how’d your call with the team go?”
“Actually it’s not over yet. They want to meet you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, they were never mad or upset. They were just planning to surprise me and come out to meet you in person.”
“Oh wow. Not what I was expecting to hear but that’s very nice of them.”
“Yeah, you ready to meet my “moms” and sisters?” I said giggling
“As I’ll ever be.”
When we reentered the room we could hear them all chanting
“GO, GO, GO, GO.”
When I looked at the screen I saw Mal chugging a giant bottle of sprite.
“What in the world? I’m gone for all of 5 Minutes and come back to see… whatever Mal is doing.”
“We triple dog dared her to chug the bottle of sprite after she pulled it out and took one measly sip of it.” Tierna shrugged
“You’re all so weird.”
“But you loveeee us.” Emily said
“That I do. How you holding up, Pugh?” I said looking back at Mal and seeing she didn’t look so good.
“Moms, I don’t feel so good.” She said referring to Christen and Tobin
“Well baby, maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing.” Chris said pouting at her sympathetically.
“You were chanting with everyone else!” Mal said annoyed
“didn’t want to be a buzz kill.” She shrugged
“Wait a little bit and then heat up yourself some chicken noodle soup.” Tobin said
“Okayyy.”
Mal flopped dramatically back on her bed as some of the girls gave her props and others laughed at her very apparent sore stomach.
“I’m so sorry. They’re always like this.” I said turning to Billie
“It’s cool. Props Mal, that was impressive.”
“Thanks Billie.”
“So Billie, how long have you and Y/N been together? Who kissed who first, and have you guys had sex yet?” Kelley asked
Of course she’s gonna be the one to put my girlfriend on the spot. Classic Kelley O’Hara
“Umm…” Billie looked at me uncomfortably
“We-we’ve been together for 7 and a half months. I kissed her, and no we haven’t.” I said covering for her as she froze.
“I see.” She said scratching her chin.
“Kelley, cool it with the grilling. We just met her.” Alex said coming to Billie’s defense.
“You’re right, sorry about that. I just want what’s best for Y/N. We all do.” She said sheepishly
“Nah, it’s cool. I totally get it.”
We continued to talk and the girls got to know Billie pretty well and they hit it off. I was relieved that they approved of her and that they were happy for me. They told me when they would be arriving in LA and how long they would be staying and we all got excited at the idea of seeing each other soon.
//
Sorry for any mistakes
-N
#uswnt#uswnt imagines#uswnt imagine#uswnt x reader#alex morgan#christen press#tobin heath#mal pugh#megan rapinoe#abby dahlkemper#crystal dunn#emily sonnett#ali krieger#reader x billie eilish#billie eilish
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Hey everyone! I realize Pride Month just ended, but I wanted to talk about Asexuality for a minute, so I hope you'll indulge me since I have no idea what day it is normally and missed the obvious chance xD
So my discovery that I was Ace happened when I was in Korea circa 2016, although I'd heard of it a few years before, from the Girls with Slingshots web comic! Both of these things occurred long after I was already an adult, however, and its existence is something I sorely wish I'd known about as a teenager. Hence, I'd really like to spread information about Asexuality to those who might not know anything, so you can be more comfortable with the idea, more informed, and perhaps pass that information to others around you who might be confused and questioning themselves! Pass it on, save a life! (Or at least a LOT of heartache and confusion!) If you already know stuff, great! You’re awesome! <3
So what IS Asexuality? Is it like, budding? Haha, funny joke. (Not really.) Asexuality is simply the lack of sexual attraction to anyone. It is an umbrella term for a lot of different classifications of Aces, but that's the basics. Allosexuals would be what is considered 'normal'--people who do experience sexual attraction. And yes, this is completely different from ROMANTIC attraction! But we'll get to that a bit later!
Why are Asexuals considered part of the LGBTQIA+ rainbow? Well, it's right there in the letters! The A never stood for ally--it always meant Asexual. We've been there since the very beginning! The Queer community envelopes all people whose gender and sexual identities fall outside the norm--so when our society, and humanity as a whole, so idealizes sex and sexual relations, I think not feeling those urges more than qualifies us! And if that weren't enough, Asexuals experience plenty of stigma and harassment--even gatekeeping from within the community, which is extremely unfortunate. In fact, in online social spaces, ESPECIALLY tumblr, Asexuality went through a major witchhunt about 5 years ago, where the waves of anti-Ace rhetoric were so bad that they basically eradicated the community and forced aces back into the closet. Things are better now, but the ramifications are still sorely felt. Aces also have a much higher chance of unstable relationships, as sex and the desire to have sex plays such a large role in romantic relationships. If you are allosexual, imagine being in a relationship where your partner never wants to have sex, and trying to understand that that doesn't reflect at all on you or how much they love you. It's hard, right? I'm not saying that Ace/Allo relationships can't happen, but it takes a LOT of work and communication!! (Uhm, and also plenty of allo people just have a low libido, so please remember not to be forcing your partners into unwanted sexual activities!!)
So let's talk more about the specific wording. 'Sexual attraction'. Simply put, that is the feeling when you look at someone, and you KNOW that you want to have sexual relations with them. Your body has reactions that might let you know this, like an erection, and you could imagine yourself doing those things. Aces aren't like that! We don't have those urges. I could go the rest of my life happily not having sex--and I've never looked at someone and wanted to do that. Now, like I said, there are quite a few umbrella versions, but that is the general description. Important things to note however: Asexual people CAN CHOOSE to have sex! If you're an Allo who has ever done it with someone you weren't exactly turned on by, then you can understand what I'm talking about. Some Aces can even ENJOY the act of sex! The two aren't necessarily related--remember, we're just talking about lacking the basic spark of sexual attraction. On the flip side, some Aces are so sex repulsed that the very idea makes them sick. If you know an Ace person, you should ask their opinion on sex before you talk about it with them--it might make them EXTREMELY uncomfortable! On that note, plenty of Asexual people are in the kink community, and enjoy BDSM. How can that be, you might ask? Well, for one, read above again about Aces and Sexual relations. But also, if you aren't in those communities, you may not realize just how much power plays into that. Some people enjoy the power play more than the sex!! So if your knee-jerk reaction to finding out someone is Ace and has sex is to think they are 'faking it', please...don't. You can't know what a person's internal workings are like.
So, why would an Asexual person want a relationship? How would that even work, anyway? Isn't it just like being friends? Well I'm glad you asked! Remember earlier when I said that Asexuality is only about the lack of SEXUAL attraction? ROMANTIC attraction has its own categories! Aromantics are people who aren't ROMANTICALLY attracted to other people. I won't get into that here, but suffice it to say that Aces can be as romantic and loving as anyone else, and many want a happy relationship! As for being like friends--imagine your partner or spouse. If you suddenly couldn't have sex with them, would it feel like the two of you were 'just friends'? No, of course not! Romantic attachment forms bonds that are completely different from platonic friendship. Lack of sex isn't the only thing that keeps your friendships from being 'romantic relationships', and if it is, you, uh...might want to reevaluate some things!!
A few other common items I want to mention before I bring this quick Ace 101 course to a close: Is being Ace just like being celibate? Not at all! Choosing to remain celibate is just that--a CHOICE. Someone who is celibate still has all their natural sexual attraction, they are just choosing not to act on those feelings for whatever reason. Aces don't have those urges, or that natural sexual attraction!
Can you become Asexual through trauma or other reasons? The long and the short answer is: Yes. One of the great things about the LGBTQIA+ community is that you should be free to come and go as you discover more about your own truth. That is also why gatekeeping is so dangerous--you shouldn't have to 'register' as Gay or Ace or Trans, or present as those things in a way that suits other people. If you, in your heart, find that one of these labels suits you, then that is what you are for now! Gender and sexuality are a journey most people aren't encouraged to discover until they're older. If you realize you are Ace at 70, you are just as valid as someone who found out earlier, or someone who underwent severe trauma and now no longer feels sexual attraction. If YOU are comfortable with where you're at, that's the only thing that matters! But if it is something that causes you distress, then please look into it. Sometimes lack of sexual attraction IS caused by physical or psychological factors that can be reversed. (Although again, more often than not it simply causes lack of libido, not necessarily lack of attraction.)
Last but not least...what's the thing with the cake? Haha! Good question! When Aces were beginning to find one another and set up their own communities, several inside jokes began to emerge. Imagery of ace playing cards, dragons, 'space ace', and of course cake, sprang up as quirky ways to reference that. The idea being that you would rather have cake than sex!!
I really hope I didn't miss anything obvious, but I'm just writing this on the fly because realizing my Asexuality was such a huge stepping-stone on my path to being more comfortable with myself, and understanding myself as a whole. I spent my teenage years terrified of and yearning for a relationship--the reason being, of course, that in my mind, dating and sex went hand in hand, and I wanted the one but was terrified of the other. So many people take sexual attraction for granted, without realizing how alienating that can be for people who DON'T feel that attraction. It's pervasive!! It's everywhere! And then to be treated as though that expectation isn't as all-encompassing as it is, or that it actually doesn't exist at all, is cultural gaslighting.
Anyway! I hope everyone had a wonderful pride month. <3 Hope to see you for the next one! Have an awesome July as well, what the heck! And if you have any questions about Asexuality, my messages are always open. I aim to inform. (And feel free to share this if you want!! Knowledge is power, but making things that seem awkward to talk about less taboo is ALSO power!)
#Pride month#Asexual pride#Asexuality#Ace#Forgive me if any of the details here are inaccurate or exaggerated#I'm not a doctor or a Queer Historian#just an Ace person trying to make asexuality more well known#this is obviously more for allos/cis/het people than people in the queer community#if you have anything to add feel free to stick it in the comments#but please be kind!#<3#long post#text post#sketchy talks
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Coming Out
Bi!Spencer Reid x Bi!Female Reader
A/N: Hey guys! I wasn't planning on writing something this closely to posting Oblivious, however the wonderful @thatsonezesty13 commented “could Spencer possibly be bi also bc like he was supposed to be but the network said no” and it sparked an idea in my brain. They also helped me out on a couple other details in this, so big thank you to you!! So here we are! Fun fact! I am currently listening to Bye Bye Bye by *NSYNC as I write this so that's fun! Anyways there will be some more pride related content coming soon, as well as other things! Send any requests you have my way and I'll get to it. Enjoy :)
Word count: 2095
The month of June rolled round far too quickly. It had hit half way through the year and I’d had 4 days off work, possibly 5, since Christmas. I guess that's a bad part of doing this job, not having much (or any for that matter) downtime in between jobs. It was exhausting at times, but I wouldn't change what I did for anything. One things June meant was 2 guaranteed days off. Not for the whole office, but I put in that request years ago. Nobody could say no once I told them what I would be spending those 2 days doing.
San Diego pride was a 2-day event I spent 363 days (or 364 days on a leap year, can't forget about them years) a year counting down to. It was the 2 days a year that I was able to be truly myself. I love my team and I don't think anyone would ever care if I was to reveal the one secret I had been hiding since I became part of the team. the only one who knew was Hotch, but that was only because I had to tell him in order to get those 2 days off a year.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I think they will react badly. I mean, everyone knows about Emily and nobody took that badly. I think its more of that I like having a part of my life that's just for me. I mean when you take a job like this, any secret you ever had comes to light. Whether you like it or not, every member of your team will know every detail there is to know about your private life. Other times, I wish we had more privacy. But other times, the lack of privacy comes in handy. Like today, for example.
The moment Spencer Reid took a step into the office I knew something was off. And the minute he made eye contact with me, he knew that I knew somethings off. I’d never be one to push. “Hey Spencie” I said as he sat down in the cubicle next to me. He looked up at me with a slightly confused face. “I know you might not want to talk about what's bothering you, but know if you do you can always speak to me. I won't judge you on anything. You have a safe place with me, please know that” I say in a slightly hushed voice, sending him a reassuring smile before getting on with the pile of neglected paperwork on my desk. If he wanted to talk about it, he could come to me. I had a feeling this was something that you couldn't be able to push out of a person.
-
Later that afternoon I was making coffee in the conference room. For some reason the coffee from the conference room tasted a million times better than the one in the kitchen. I had no clue why though because they seemed to be the exact same machine. All I know if the coffee in here is a heck of a lot better than near my desk, so it was worth the extra walking to get it. I didn't seem to be the only one who thought that though as shortly after I start making a pot Spencer walks in. I spin slightly, smiling at him. He still seemed troubled, almost like he was having an internal debate with himself.
“You okay there Spencie?” I ask pouring the coffee into the pot, spinning round to put the pot of freshly brewed goodness on the table. He seemed to still be at war with himself, but the whiff of coffee soon knocked him out of his mind and back into reality. I hold my hand out to fill up his cup, something he happily accepts.
“I- um” he starts, trying to choose his next words wisely, “have you ever had something you've wanted to scream out for the longest time, but you've never been able to?”
“Of course, I could things of a couple things on the spot. I’m sure if I sat and thought about it for a minute or two I’d be able to think of more. Why, what's going on in that cute head of yours?” We both seemed to gravitate to sitting next to each other, bodies pointed at one another.
Spencer sits in silent for a minute or two before asking timidly, “C-can I trust you?”
“I’d hope you can trust me, if you can't then I've done something wrong without knowing it” I say, not quite sure where he was going with this one. It’s not often Spencer says things that leave me confused. I mean I don't have an IQ of 197, I can’t read 20,000 words a minute and my memory is anything but eidetic - BUT you give us a bunch of facts to sort out and a case to solve, we become the perfect team.
“Promise you won't judge me?” he says, a bit apprehensive. With that, I grab his hand from under the table and hold it gently in my hands, rubbing it gently to help soothe him.
“Hey, look at me” I say, “have I ever judged you? The first time I met you was just after you’d been held hostage and were addicted to Dilaudid. For two weeks I bared the brunt of your come down because I knew there was a sweet, kind man underneath. When Gideon told you how you'd treated me when you came clean about what happened, you apologised multiple times a day for months until I snapped at you. Remember what I said to you? ‘You have nothing to apologise for-’”
“’that was the drug talking, not you” he finishes sighing softly. “I’m really sorry about that you know” he says, smiling softly at me. I gave him a look, making him laugh softly. “Right sorry.”
“Spencer!”
“Sorr-”
“Nope, that words banned.”
“You can't ban a word Y/N!”
“Watch me!” I say, half joking (but he didn't need to know that), “So what's wrong?”
He sighs, looking up. As we make eye contact I can see the clogs spinning at 100mph in his head. “Take as much time as you need Spencie, I’ll be here.”
“Um, I haven't told anyone this before. Not because I’m afraid of how they’ll take it because I know they aren't small-minded people like that. I think its because if I say it out loud, if I admit what I am out loud, it’ll be real.”
“Spencie, you've lost me sweeties.”
“I guess what I'm trying to say is... okay so remember when we went to Miami for that case last year?”
“The one where the unsub was confused about his identity so he took it out on his victims?” I ask, my mind racing through every detail on that case.
“Yeah that one. So you know we all stayed an extra night, went to that club and I disappeared half way through the night?” I nod my head, still confused as to where this was going, “well that night I met someone. They were gorgeous and one things lead to another, and we went back to their place, and y’know.”
I squint my eyes slightly, confused as to what he was implying, “they?”
He scratches his head, eyes wandering to the door to make sure we were alone.
“See, the person I left with was a guy...”
“You hooked up with a guy?” I ask, the pieces slowly starting to click together in my head.
“Y-yeah I did. I didn't plan it, it just kinda happened. After that, it sent me crazy trying to piece together who I was. I knew I couldn't be gay because... okay since we’re getting everything out in the open.. because I've always had somewhat of a crush on you.”
“Wait, on me?” He nods, eyes flitting between mine, trying to figure out my response. “So, do you think you’re bi?”
“I’m like 99% sure I’m bi” he replies, chuckling to himself.
“I’m proud of you Spencie, I know it’s not easy coming out to people. Especially people who mean a lot to you. I promise you I am always going to be in your life, one way or another. And I also promise you that no matter what happens, will support you and I will fight in your corner” I say, grabbing his hand slightly tighter, “no matter what!!”
He smiles, relaxing slightly. For a moment, everything was peaceful. Spencer was so proud of himself for coming out, and the internal battle had moved from Spencer’s brain to yours truly.
“Hey Spence?”
“Hmm”
“Since we are being completely open here, I have something to tell you.”
“What? What is it?” he asks, worried for his friend.
“So you know how I take 2 days off every year?” I start.
“Yeah, why is that?”
“I take 2 days off to march in the San Diego pride march. I’ve done it every year for the past 13 years, and I knew it was something I had to do every year. When Hotch interview me for this job and he asked if I had any commitments I needed time off for, I said I needed 2 days off every July. Hotch being Hotch asked why, and when I told him I was marching for those who couldn't do it themselves, for whatever reason, he quickly agreed.”
“Okay, I'm still confused. Are you marching for someone other than the people unable to do it themselves? 13 years is a long time to be doing something, especially something for other people.”
“No, I do it for myself too.”
“I’m, um, still confused Y/N” Spencer says, half annoyed with myself for not being able to connect the dots that are right in front of himself.
“No, it’s okay I wasn't clear. Me and you are a lot more similar under the surface than you think Spencie” I say, not putting my sexuality into words because I can never find the right words to use to say it, without blurting it out with no context.
“I still don't get it Y/N!” he half shouts, ripping his hand out of mine and tugging at his hair. Almost as if someone flips a switch in his brain, Spencer shoots his head up. Bingo! I tell myself.
“You-you’re bi?”
“I sure am Spencie. I have been since the minute I was born.”
“Why didn't you say nothing earlier? All those years I've asked what you do on the same 2 days a year, year in and year our.”
“I didn't say anything to anyone, bar Hotch, because I wanted something that’s just for me. Call me selfish, but I’d rather not give Morgan even more of an excuse to try and set me up with someone when we all go for a drink. he’s bad enough already” I explain, trying to make the situation a bit lighter by joking with him. He goes along with the joke, jokingly pulling a mortified face.
“That’s very true, we don't need to give Derek anymore ammunition than he already has.”
“My point exactly!” I say, laughing and pulling him in for a hug. The hug quickly gets interrupted by a pair of clicking heels approaching the conference room.
“Hey cuties, head’s up everyone's on their way here. We got called in on a job” Penelope says, smiling gently to herself.
“God where would we be without you Penny?” I ask, beaming up at her.
“Oh angel cakes, you’d probably be very stuck” she replies, turning on her heels and walking off.
As she leaves the voices of our other colleagues float into the room, alerting us of their incoming presence. Spencer pulls at my arm slightly, turning me to face him.
“Hey, do you think I’d be able to join you next month?”
“You sure Spencie? You don't have to feel obliged to.”
“No, I want to.”
“I’ll speak to Hotch later and see if he's okay with it. I wouldn't see why not. You deserve a break” I reply with a smiling face, giving his arm a quick squeeze.
“Hey there you are!” Emily says, “we’ve been looking all over for you two!”
“Sorry, we didn't realise how much time had passed.”
“Is everything okay?” Hotch asks.
“We’re all good” I say, not being able to contain the smile on my face anymore.
“If you say so Y/N” Hotch says back, “okay JJ, what have we got?”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer#reid#fluff#pride month#bisexaul#coming out#matthew gray gubler#mgg#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#bi!spencer reid#bi!reader
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Lost Time // Luke Patterson
Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.
Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff
Words: 2.2k
Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!
*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.
Masterlist
The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.
Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.
Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.
“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”
His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.
“You saw me last night.”
“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”
Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.
Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.
Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.
“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”
The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.
“I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”
“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”
“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”
Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.
1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.
Los Angeles, 2004
Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.
The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.
It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.
“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”
Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.
“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.
“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.
“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”
“Hey Luke.”
Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.
“Yeah.”
“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.
“Grandma!”
A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.
October 1995
You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.
“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.
“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.
The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.
It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.
You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.
“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”
“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”
“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.
Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.
“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.
The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.
“Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.
“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.
“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.
“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”
The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.
“Come on Bug.”
It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.
“I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.
The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.
Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.
“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.
He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.
“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”
Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.
“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.
“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.
“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”
The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.
God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.
“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.
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dancer in the dark (pt. 1)
jeon jeongguk / reader
genre: rockstar/pop-punk au, smut, angst & fluff
rating: explicit
words: 33k
warnings: slowburn, explicit sexual themes, alcohol use, recreational rockstar drug use, smoking, adult language, dark themes including negative side-effects of drug use and drinking including intoxication & irrational behaviour, dry humping, mental health struggle, koo has an australian accent, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, if things feel good in this fic then wait 4 part two to ruin everything
a/n: ok.....hear me out......guk as a lead singer of an alternative-punk-rock band....and he looks like this......and this….. AND THIS………and his band r basically chase atlantic......Ok ur welcome & pls give this fic a chance!!!!!!!!!! i luv it a lot and its probs my fav so far ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ def a long one so get ur tea and blankets and buckle up!
notes: have it. this has been in my drafts since like july. just take it and smile.
dedicated to @httpjeon, who force fed me pictures of rocker jeongguk and repeatedly kept me sane + motivated. thank u sm
Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him.
BIRTH OF DEVILS.
(LONDON)
“That was August Blue in the Live Lounge, covering Thanks For The Memories by Fall Out Boy. These guys have some right talent, don’t they? Yeah...well, you can keep up to date with them by watching their interview with us on IPlayer right now, and they’re also going to be on tour in London and various other American venues within the next few months. I’m proper excited for that...”
No matter how many interview schedules and radio plays, Jeongguk doesn’t feel as though he is ever going to get used to this feeling.
For now, it is an endless series of chaos, radio stations and newspapers wanting to talk to the newest music craze- because that’s what August Blue were, whether Jeongguk liked that or not.
August Blue were a band who nobody thought could make it. From early fans of the band, when they were barely filling up Korean venues and getting more than a thousand views on original songs, to big-name celebrities like Axel Choi who had waltzed into Jeongguk’s part-time job when he was seventeen. The man, one of Jeongguk’s idols, had looked him in the eye, considered his band and his dream and said he didn’t have the talent to do anything good with his band, and told him, if you want to be big, you have to be American.
It wasn’t quite the same, or what Axel had intended for it to mean, but four years later Jeongguk now sits number one on the Billboard Charts with his ‘band with no potential’, making a name for themselves, bringing pride to their culture, love with their music, and money to Korea’s economy. The amount of fans that August Blue had collected over the four years of Jeongguk’s band being formally considered a band were unimaginable, many flocking to landmarks to photograph lampposts he stood next to on Instagram, others going to his home-country to enjoy the country that had birthed icons.
If only Jeongguk had the same love and pride for his country; they had turned their backs on them simply because of their popularity overseas.
Well, fuck them- Jeongguk and his band are going somewhere no other Korean band or artist can even touch, and while we’re on the subject- Axel Choi can eat a dick! Jeongguk’s not doing so bad for a Busan boy working at 7-Eleven, and while Jeongguk’s drinking champagne like a King on the top of the charts, it’s hard to see everybody else at the bottom.
August Blue leave the BBC Broadcasting House, on their way to the hotel for their last two nights in London before heading back to America. It doesn’t quite feel real yet, for Jeongguk to say that his band have sold out two nights at the O2 Academy Brixton. Admittedly, it’s not as big as their shows in America, which similarly happens to be where most of their fans are located, but for a first time in the UK, it’s a dream to see it sold out with his band's name and faces on billboards nearby.
Beside him in the black van, August Blue’s bassist Hoseok sighs deeply and fastens his seatbelt, his hands immediately rummaging into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. Nevertheless, a smile does dance on his lips; a few fans had gathered outside the building to see them off, as well as welcome them when they arrived for their Live Lounge recording and interview. It still feels surreal for Jeongguk to see his face on shirts, and to hear people call his name. As the car begins to pull out of the car park, Jeongguk squints through the darkened glass at the fans, a bright smile on his face as they cheer, right until the car is out of the building vicinity.
“Should arrive at the hotel in thirty.” From the passenger seat, August Blue’s manager twists to face the band in the back seats. Jeongguk barely lifts his face to see him, his eyes glancing over and then moving back out the window, watching London pass by in a blur. “Try and get some shut-eye. Good job today, guys.”
“Thanks, coach,” Seokjin replies. It’s always Seokjin who does the talking, taking the role of Big Bro whenever August Blue’s lead vocal and, let’s face it, the reason why they have fans, Jeongguk, isn’t feeling particularly chatty, which is more often than not. “Let’s keep working hard, yeah?”
The question is directed out to everybody in the van, and Jeongguk finally looks over. He nods, gently and smiles as if it hurts him to be genuine, and then his attention is back out the window, his mind back with the fans who had screamed for him, his heart filled with the warmth of the memory.
It’s good to be loved, to be accepted. It’s good to be successful when people doubted you could do it.
THE DEVILS ARE DANCING.
(VENICE)
“It sounds really good, Jeongguk. Want me to run it one more time?”
Jeongguk shrugs the weight of his jacket off his shoulders, twisting the cable attaching to his headphones so they unravel around his body and raises his thumb through the glass to the rest of the studio. On cue, the familiar sound of the opening melody to August Blue’s updated track, Hold Your Breath, floods through the speakers, slightly tinny but nonetheless clear for all to hear. While Sejin, August Blue’s manager, aids the producer by pointing out minor audio flaws, Jeongguk joins the rest of his band in the studio to gather around. The last to join the group is Seokjin, the drummer who rubs at his wrists pathetically, his duet of drumsticks poking out of his back pocket.
Sejin’s right- it does sound good.
The strums from Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon’s instruments sounds incredible, and it’s probably their strongest non-punk track of the year. Retrospectively, it sounds nostalgic, reminding Jeongguk of those summer evenings in Busan after a tiring day of school and garage-band practise with the guys. When the chorus moulds together, Jeongguk’s lips lift to a satisfied and exuberant smile, the harmonies from everybody’s vocals blending together before the chorus comes to a finale, and Namjoon’s deeper vocals come for the second round of verses.
As he listens, Jeongguk recalls the moment he sat down and wrote this song, back when he was eighteen and feeling like the world was against him. In that respect, this song means a lot to him and the band, reminiscent of a time where it felt impossible to get out of the garage and into venues. Then, when Friends brought them out of small Korean venues into charts abroad and giving them radio play, Jeongguk had stored Hold Your Breath on a memory stick and his worn out lyric book, until the right moment came for him to present it to a studio. It just so happened that ADORA, a respected and famous Korean producer based in the US-of-A, had loved the track, bringing it back to square one where Jeongguk stands still, unaware that the single has finished playing.
“It’s one of our best,” Namjoon admits bashfully, his hand brushing the back of his neck, a habit. He extends his gaze out to the rest of the band, “am I right?”
“Better than Friends?” Seokjin asks, surprised. He tilts his head as if he disagrees. “Nothing can beat Friends.” After that statement, something about another song comes up in conversation but it dies out over the sound of Hold Your Breath being rolled back and played again.
On the other side of Jeongguk, Hoseok hums and claps the younger on the shoulder, the sound of Jeongguk’s hiss ignored and silenced by the excited discussion over the track by the producers, lunch menus between Seokjin and Namjoon. With a slight wince, Jeongguk looks over at the bassist.
“It’s all thanks to you!” Hoseok says, a tight but honest smile on his face. “Without you, there’d be no songs. I’m telling you, we knew you were special!”
“Thanks, Hobi,” Jeongguk replies quietly. “Let’s hope people like it and it sells.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Hoseok muses, frowning. “Just because it has a story doesn’t mean it won’t sell. Honestly, Guk, this one’s great. It’s gonna be amazing.”
Like always, Jeongguk finds that difficult to believe, despite records and albums selling luxuriously every time. It’s mandatory to doubt, especially when you’ve got a lot to lose; August Blue are just another band, another group of guys trying to make a name for themselves across the pond. Right now, they’re not huge, not as big as Jeongguk wants them to be- they can sell out a couple arenas, top charts and headline shows, but they’ve still got a long way to go, still got the prejudice of being foreign. If anything, that only motivates them more. Nothing feels better than proving the white man wrong.
“When it’s finished, we’ll have a promising B-side for the album,” starts Adora, the producer looking over her shoulder with satisfaction at the five guys. “I’d like to run through Dancer in the Dark, though? Adjust the drums, maybe add more to the sax?”
Jeongguk nods, taking a quick sip of water from a bottle on top of the small cabinet pushed to the wall of the studio. “Might work better as the A, actually. Guys, what’dya think?”
“Yeah, sure,” Namjoon replies. “It’s a good song- will probably look better with a music video too. Want us back in the booth for it?”
Adora shakes her head, rolling the song back up. “Nah. Just gonna listen for now. Good job, guys.”
With that, and the familiar opening melody of Dancer in the Dark filtering through the speakers, Sejin claps his hands and gives a thumb to the rest of the band, sending them off for an hour or two until they’re needed again. In ADORABLE TRAP Records, singers were more often than not props, voices for her to play with. Jeongguk provides a demo, a rough idea of what the song should sound like and Adora works her magic, changing tones and amplifying the bass, creating something magical and sensational for when August Blue regroup in the studio at a later time. The band trust Adora and her team, considering she’s half the reason why they’re big worldwide in the first place.
THREE AM is August Blue’s anticipated first full length album, after many months of EP’s and mini albums, alongside the handful of covers accumulated over the years. ATR expects it to be completed by the end of the week, with only minor final touches needed on a select few of the tracks, eleven seamless and sensually exciting songs ready to release to the budding and hungry public. Like always, the pressure of perfection hangs over the studio, intoxicating and infuriating, and as soon as he can escape the room, Jeongguk inhales the clean and purified air of the outer studio, where a leather sofa sits beside a flickering vending machine that’s surely seen better days.
Hoseok groans, massaging the cramp out of his shoulder with his leather jacket still in his hand, spinning wildly with the arms extended out, hugging the air. “God, I’m so fucking hungry. Shall we go out?”
“Mm,” Namjoon agrees, “sounds good. Guk, Jin, you in for some food?”
Somewhere behind Jeongguk, Seokjin sighs loudly- a noise that has the nerve to sound like a whine, childish and ungrateful. “I need to find new drumsticks. Look at the state of these things.” Over his shoulder, Jeongguk spies the blunt ends of Seokjin’s sticks, the smooth and rounded ends frayed and close to splintering.
“How did that even happen?” Hoseok asks incredulously, while Seokjin’s distinct laughter rises in volume.
“Don’t ask,” Seokjin shakes his head in reply. “Anyway, won’t take long. Isn’t that one store nearby? The one owned by the Daegu guy?”
Namjoon confirms this. Not too far away from ATR, located in a renovated storage house in Venice, there is a comfortably successful and trustworthy store that August Blue aren’t strangers to; DBOY is one of the best, expensive and well respected amongst musicians who frequent LA. Jeongguk recognises the name, as if on command picturing the small guy who runs it in his head.
Of course, it’s not owned by him- DBOY is known for being established and owned by Min Dowoon, a retired music producer whose name is legendary amongst artists and most certainly intimidating to the likes of Busan boys like Jeongguk. Regardless, it is his son, Yoongi, who pretty much runs the place. From what Jeongguk can vaguely remember from the last time he met with Yoongi, he recalled the aforementioned to have a fine and grand collection of ostentatious instruments and equipment. As for the seller himself- well, Yoongi can be a little bit of a nouveau-riche, perhaps even unapproachable, but it’s not as if people go to DBOY looking for a conversation.
Jeongguk might be the lead vocalist of the band, but he most certainly does not regard himself the leader. Due to this fact, he stares back at the other members of the band, waiting for a decision to be made for him. While on stage, Jeongguk enjoys playing pretend and acting as if the world was his for the taking, his for his pleasure, off-stage he enjoyed living quietly and comfortably, some might say obediently, shying under the authority of his elder band-members.
“What? Yeah, of course,” Namjoon replies almost immediately. “It’s on the way to that Korean place we went to last time we came here.”
Taehyung sounds zealous at the mentioning of the Korean restaurant, which pretty much means everybody’s mind has been made up. When Seokjin catches up with Jeongguk and wraps his longer arms around him playfully, Jeongguk finally lets himself loosen the tension carved into his skin from the studio, being pulled and pulling Seokjin out of the studio and into the sunny street.
The drive to DBOY is neither long or difficult, considering the traffic has decided to fall on their side of luck today. Hoseok, who enjoys being the designated driver for the band whenever he can help it, turns right and pulls the car into the staff-only car park, uncaring for the signs that turn him away and parks awkwardly near the shrubs behind the store.
Without being affected in the face of Seokjin’s disbelieving protests against Hoseok’s parking preferences, Jeongguk undoes his seatbelt in a grouchy silence and hops out, feeling the underneath of his knees aching due to the tightness of his jeans. The front face of his knees are torn, the tan skin poking out and slightly red from where, out of unhealthy habit, he scratches his skin, the only source of colour aside from his skin being the mustard of his shoes, comfy and worn out of love.
He always forgets just how warm America is- not that it’s not welcomed, of course. Only, now he half wishes he hadn’t worn an all-black ensemble, the sun hot on his neck and underarms. The rest of August Blue take their gentle time getting out of the hired vehicle, a cacophony on the right side where Seokjin and Hoseok have stepped out, arguing over the angle of the tyres as if it genuinely makes any difference considering the car is out of sight from the public, meaning it’s bothering nobody at all besides Seokjin, who appears to be the only person complaining.
Jeongguk just rolls his eyes, over it, and brushes his untamed parting out of his eyes carefully, avoiding catching the curled strands on the bar of his eyebrow piercing.
DBOY, like always, is quiet and glorious, rising high against the bungalow-sized stores surrounding the lot. Its architecture is refined, boxy and brown and all-in-all American, a copy of every brown bricked building you’d see in the movies. And yet, it still stands out, with bright yellow accents like the colour of Jeongguk’s shoes, similarly promoted within the interior if Jeongguk remembers correctly.
The first time Jeongguk had come here it had been with acquiesce, mostly just to shut Seokjin up after he read a few five star reviews online. That was around about the time Taehyung had joined the band, with little rockstar aura and a gift for the keyboard and saxophone, which incredibly added an accent to August Blue’s music that helped them chart worldwide, a Korean The 1975 as a headline which didn’t seem all that bad, given the leader of the latter seemed down to Earth about it.
Jeongguk now cannot deny that DBOY offers something to a piece of music that quite literally no other can, hence why he sets off first towards the oversized yellow door and pushes it open with all its weight. Like Yoongi and his brusque facade, Jeongguk’s not shocked to find the door is a heavy metal, requiring attention to push it open, but yet it always catches him off guard, as if he’s expecting it to get easier each time.
Once inside, the all too familiar sound of I Want To Break Free greets his ears, the sound echoey and tinny, like you’d expect for a building with a high ceiling decorated with pipes drenched in the signature yellow. It is bright, and chilly as he enters due to the air-conditioning, yet the warmth engulfing him as all of the band enter and the door closes. On a good day, DBOY is virtually empty; majority of their orders are online and dealt with by another customs manager that is not the staff on duty, which coincidentally is how Yoongi likes it, considering he’s a bit of a black sheep, not exactly enthusiastic about talking when he can help it.
While Hoseok and Taehyung make a b-line towards the vinyls and collection of photographs that Yoongi displays in order to show off how many celebrities he’s had the delight of selling to, Jeongguk follows behind Seokjin and Namjoon as they head towards the desk, pushed towards the back of the store behind endless stacks of records, the left side of the store displaying a rare and gorgeous collection of instruments that Jeongguk ogles at as he passes.
Yoongi is a personal collector of vintages, including exact pieces and similarly replicas, the newer models closer to the desk where the cameras can keep an extra eye on their condition. Jeongguk has half an idea to make a directional change and head right, but the opening to the operative desk appears before him, or over the shoulder of Namjoon as he walks behind him.
DBOY feels abnormally silent today, not even the distinct humming of Yoongi detectable in the stacks. Namjoon purses his lips, looking around half-heartedly before moving towards the desk, raising his hand to drum his fingers upon the varnished dark wood. The dull sound of his fingertips brings Jeongguk’s head away from the instruments, and similarly, a head from a book.
At first, Jeongguk’s only half-looking. In blunt honesty, he’s not too interested in whoever is behind the desk, a sigh leaving between his lips as he buries his hands into the pockets of his jeans with great difficulty due to the tightness, something which attracts the eyes of the little dove behind the desk, her eyes darting to the refined bulge of his biceps and veins crawling on his forearms.
“Oh,” comes a gentle voice that, with reluctance, pulls Jeongguk’s eyes back over. “Sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in! I didn’t even hear the bell…”
Namjoon’s eyebrows pull upwards. “You have a bell?”
“Yeah...I think?” Questionable. “Well, I thought we did...I bet Yoongi took it out again. Fucker, he doesn’t tell me anything.”
Seokjin leans backwards on one foot, taking a peek back towards the doors where, hoorah, there is a bell on the wall above the entrance. “Oh, look at that. Guess you do have a bell.”
“Well,” finishes the voice, and Jeongguk takes the chance to look at the little display on top of the desk, a complementary addition that spells out the cashiers name in a disgustingly ordinary font. Y/N is what it reads today, which Jeongguk makes a note of and looks away from at the same time. “That bell is definitely broken. Huh. Anyway, sorry. Can I help you?”
“Yoongi here?” Namjoon asks, his weight now entirely reliant on the weight of the desk. By this point, Jeongguk has led himself over to the instruments, the only sight of him being his back marked and outlined by the clinginess of his tee.
You nod once, smiling and slamming the book from your lap on the top of the desk. Never did Namjoon expect for the title to read The Encyclopedia of Sharks, and as you spin in your chair to heckle in the back office, Namjoon glances at Seokjin over his shoulder with an amused smile, his eyes gesturing back to the book earning Seokjin a snigger.
“...and you didn’t tell me the bell was broken at the door.”
Your voice enters the store once more from the back office, accompanied by the smaller frame of Yoongi as he discards a tinfoil ball into the trash underneath the desk.
“Sorry. Y/N, the bell at the door is broken,” Yoongi deadpans, and you sneer in reply, tugging away from his childish and playful smile to be seated. When he’s decided he’s finished fondly looking at you, Yoongi addresses the band in the room, a secondary smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, tour,” Namjoon offers as an explanation.
“Don’t sweat it,” Yoongi shrugs in reply. “You recording?”
“As we speak,” Seokjin pipes in. “And, look- went to some stores in Vancouver for sticks last year and got given this!” His tone is elevated with genuine aghast, holding up his drumsticks and Yoongi pulls a face.
“That’s what you get for going somewhere other than here,” Yoongi frowns. “Come with me. The newest collection actually just came in. You all in here? Keep sticky fingers away from my signed records.”
The remainder of their conversation is muted for you, as you watch the group of guys shuffle away from the desk and towards the display of instruments. Whereas Yoongi holds an extensive knowledge on music and instruments, you can happily and readily admit that it is not within your comfort zone.
Truth be told, the only reason you work at DBOY is for money, and because Yoongi happens to be a relative willing to pay you more than you deserve. Family history is the reasoning for Yoongi’s undying devotion to music, alongside a half-completed degree in sound engineering that he tells people he’s got, because the two years he braved University sure as hell didn’t happen for no reason.
As for you, you prefer the less audible arts, the ones starting and stopping with paintbrushes and splashes of colour. If someone were to ask, your job at DBOY offers a daily observation of the various album covers dotted around the store, ready to be fingered and thumbed when you’re changing the display shelves, or cleaning the trays.
In simpler terms, Yoongi is the expert. You’re just the person who sits behind the desk and pretends to be a professional.
“Newer Hickory over here,” says Yoongi, as he leads the three ducklings through the store towards the lined stacks of drumsticks. In awe, like a child in a candy store, Seokjin surges forward and gapes at the selection, his eyes glued to a signature collection, signed and overwhelmingly expensive. “Oh, yeah. Queen. Signed by Roger Taylor himself, wanna feel ‘em?”
Seokjin does want; his eyes light up like tiny lamps and they widen in size, followed by the rise and fall of his feet as he hops with literal overflowing excitement. Namjoon laughs at the sight of it, the sound eventually calling Hoseok and Sticky-Fingers-Taehyung away from the pride of Yoongi’s photo collection and towards the rest of the band. Something deep within Jeongguk claws, a smile on his face as he watches Seokjin get visibly excited over the drumsticks formerly belonging to Roger Taylor. Even Jeongguk himself, despite the sudden appearance of his angst, oohs and aahs at the stick set, being directed by Yoongi to the line of new guitars and boxes on show.
“New face?”
By the time Hoseok has settled with the group, Yoongi looks up from the set of Les Paul that Namjoon is admiring for its matte polish and notices Hoseok’s gaze pointed in your direction. Yoongi follows, his chin lifting with satisfactory pride when he sees you’re reading, as always, unfocused on the group and submerged in your own world.
When you wanted, you could be excited about celebrities when they came into DBOY, but there was honestly the high chance that you didn’t even know August Blue. Considering Yoongi knew them through connections and through a year exchange programme in Australia where he had met Jeongguk and gave him advice for the band, he of course felt familiar, close enough to actually consider the members to be friends.
“Sorta,” he admits in reply. “She’s been here a while now. Y/N.”
“She’s pretty,” Namjoon comments, which, to no surprise, irritates Yoongi. He glares in the direction of the guitarist and scowls, his face pulled up with disgust.
That’s when Jeongguk looks over, drinking in the sight of you for the first time ever. Usually, Jeongguk takes great pride in the fact that he fears attachment, therefore closing himself off emotionally to everybody outside of August Blue. Due to this fact, he almost never finds himself interested in anybody, his limitations at sex which, even then, he doesn’t engage in often.
He spies on you from where he is standing, next to the electric guitar displays, watching carefully at the way you carry yourself, what you choose to show people. What you are doing now is boondoggle, skimming through pages you’ve read before to present the image of you being busy. By luck, you had dressed more nicer than usual for this date- your hair pulled half up and half down, the lilac scrunchy keeping the curls together and a black and white striped dress wrapping around your body to where Jeongguk predicts could be your knee.
Without being modest, there’s really nothing world-stopping about you. Jeongguk knows this as he stares at you; he’s had better, and definitely had worse. God forbid it, but you have the audacity to look normal, mistakenly placed in the store, sticking out like a thumb that is sore.
“She doesn’t look like she should be working here,” Jeongguk throws in, offers almost, and Yoongi regards him with the raise of his brows, an amused smile on his face.
A deep groan rises out of Namjoon’s chest. “Here we go. He always does this- every time there’s a pretty girl, he gets like this.”
“Gets like what?” Jeongguk asks, scoffing.
“Jerky,” Hoseok agrees, laughing and pointing a finger at Jeongguk accusingly. When he silences with small gasps of amusement, he smiles and says, “did you know it’s a turn off for girls?”
“Then tell me why I have more game than you?” Jeongguk quips.
Hoseok just laughs, and both of them know it’s false, considering Hoseok and his unofficial girlfriend have been hooking up for the last five months, whereas Jeongguk has remained single and sexless; which he doesn’t care about, especially when there’s a million other things he could be doing and worrying over. Comfort previously found in pillowcases and sexual endauvers can now be found in white powders and green liquids, either- either warm enough to keep him happy, at least until Seokjin tells him he should stop and put it to rest.
Yoongi quietly twists the key in the display lock after confirming that Seokjin wants the sticks in his hand. “She’s good. She does her job, and in return, I let her do what she wants when nobody’s in the store. Give it a break, yeah?”
Jeongguk scoffs with surrender, raising his shoulders as he lets it drop at Yoongi’s request. Meanwhile Yoongi answers questions about the instruments for sale, lined up for the band to gawk at with ungraciousness, Jeongguk actually turns back around. Another elongated sigh leaves his mouth, the sound of creeping boredom, and finally, his gaze once again settles on yourself.
You’ve moved since he last looked over; the book on sharks is set on top of the desk again, and now you’re risen. From where he is standing, the desk curves, revealing that his predictions on dress length were fruitless considering the stretch of your dress rises above the knee, bunching around your thigh comfortably. He has to respect it- it’s hot in Venice.
Without particularly wanting to, Jeongguk’s legs wander from his original spot towards the desk, his eyes elsewhere to feign disinterest. The truth of the matter is that he isn’t really interested, unless you counted the dull rise of arousal in the pit of his stomach. That being said, Jeongguk glances up at your face once more and sucks air into his cheeks, hollowing the skin as he knocks on his heels and turns away from you before you can notice. Namjoon was right, to some extent. You were pretty.
“You like The Clash?”
A sweet voice hauls Jeongguk’s attention up and over towards the corner of the desk, where on the other side you stand with both hands flat on the surface, your entire body lifting your weight cutely. Jeongguk’s heart leaps and he glares down at his hands, finding London Calling in his hands, indicating that whilst on his solo mission of pretending to be preoccupied near you, he had just picked up the first thing in front of him.
Jeongguk clears his throat gruffly and shakes his head once. “No.”
For a few seconds, nothing is said. “Oh.” And Jeongguk hopes you’ll leave it there, let him pretend he’s invisible until he’s thought of something to say, but as always, his prayers are ignored. “Do you need help finding something?”
“No,” Jeongguk grits out. He speaks with acrimony, the tone at first catching you off-guard until he looks up, and his eyes tell a quiet story that makes your mouth close tightly. “I’m browsing. Am I not allowed to browse?”
Whether he likes or expects it, the way Jeongguk speaks makes a grin spread across your face, covering your original expression of surprise. He’s not quite sure how to feel about this, or what to make of how his chest feels when it happens.
“Sorry,” you reply, not exactly sounding apologetic. “It’s my job to ask, I guess. Well...enjoy your browsing. If you need me…” Repeatedly, his gaze lifts from the stack of CDs back towards you and it is only when you look away that he allows himself to slip, the smallest of frowns tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Although he knows better, Jeongguk sighs and pushes himself away from his end of the desk. It slides, semi-circular with the front in the store and behind it in its own secluded room, decorated with posters and old lockers that are used for storage. It doesn’t take looking up to register the fact that Jeongguk has moved next to you, parallel; something about Jeongguk feels particularly distinct, heavy and intimidating with the smell of hazelnut that enriches woody elements, a signature male smell that fills your nose.
“So.” Jeongguk starts over, his voice clipped but also clear, as though encouraging a conversation. To you, it feels unpredictable, almost as if talking to him was absurd; to Jeongguk, it is a bravado. “You like sharks.”
Out of surprise, your attention snaps towards him. His expression gives nothing away, and it is only when he raises his eyebrows expectantly that you remember the book, that stupid book you found under the desk when you clocked in this morning after your nine-am seminar. The Encyclopedia of Sharks, smiling razor blades face up at you and an embarrassed heat rises in your body.
“Um, not really?” you confess, avoiding the scrutiny of his stare. Jeongguk’s face is levelled into unamusement, challenging the fact you don’t like sharks in the same way you questioned his interest in The Clash. A bewildered smirk dawns on his face and you smile, tightly and revealing a dimple near your jaw that Jeongguk’s attention is pulled to. “I like Sharknado, though.”
“Right,” Jeongguk replies, finishing with a laugh that is mostly air through his teeth, a snigger of sorts, and he shakes his head downwards, fluffing his hair all within the same movement. It shocks you, genuinely, to hear a laugh come out from his mouth.
While he is busy sniggering to himself, because apparently what you said tickled his remaining sense of humour, you seize the opportunity to dance your eyes across his body. “Your tattoos are pretty.” It leaves your mouth carelessly, but Jeongguk looks up with a smile on his face, a gorgeous set of pearly whites on show.
“Yeah?” he asks, and then he flexes his arms unintentionally, peering at the black ink decorating his skin. Your mouth waters inside, soaking in the sight of him before it’s snatched away, like all the good things in your life. “Thanks.”
“Mhm,” you offer, feeling mortified.
“I saw you’re close with Yoongi,” Jeongguk mentions, after a short pause. “Boyfriend? Best friend? Super close colleagues?”
“What? Ew, no. Yoongi’s my cousin. Well. You know, when someone just becomes a cousin ‘cos you’re close,” you reply, and Jeongguk nods casually, pursing his lips, and it ends there. “Also...none of your business.” He smirks.
On cue, an eruption of laughter simmers from across the store where Yoongi and the rest of Jeongguk’s friends are gathered, and you swallow the lump in your throat and glance at him, finding he hasn’t looked away. “Are you guys, like...in a band, or something?”
Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. Should he be offended or relieved that you don’t know who he is?
“Something like that,” he nods.
“Can’t be that popular then, if I don’t know you,” you tease, fighting the urge to laugh when Jeongguk’s face falls dramatically. “I’m kidding. What did you say your name was again?”
“We’re called August Blue.”
“No, I meant your name,” you laugh.
Jeongguk splutters, coughing nothing out of his throat. “Oh. Jeongguk.”
There is no reasonable explanation behind why Jeongguk’s stomach feels weird when you smile- it is an unspoken rule that Jeongguk doesn’t do feelings. Jeongguk doesn’t do romance period, only hooks up on the rare occasion that he’s high enough to feel something for someone other than himself. Yet something is unsettling inside, bubbling like the top layer of boiling water in a cauldron, threatening to spill out in waves.
“Well, Jeongguk from August Blue- who I shall be indulging in very soon, as in, when you leave the store and I can do it without you watching me-,” you pause when he laughs again. You wonder if he laughs often, or if you’re one of the lucky ones. “-, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”
“Is it?” he questions disbelievingly.
You tilt your head curiously. “Why wouldn’t it be? I mean, aside from you coming for me doing my job.”
Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Whatever. And, I’m just saying.”
A playfulness grabs at your shirt. “Why? Are you dangerous, Jeongguk?” Your eyes narrow into slits, challenging, and Jeongguk just smirks, exhaling softly. There is something charismatic about him, that’s for sure.
“All I’m saying, is that guys like me aren’t good for girls like you,” Jeongguk settles, unprepared for the unexpected laughter that bursts from your chest, bouncing around the room until Jeongguk actually feels somewhat uncomfortable. “What?”
But the laughter is uncontrollable, loud enough to bring Yoongi back to the desk questioningly, followed by the rest of August Blue as they shadow Yoongi like lost puppies. Yoongi pushes the small gate open and his eyes widen at you hunched over on the desk, secondly acknowledging Jeongguk as he stares deadpan at you, wondering what it was he said that was so comedic.
“You make it sound so simple,” you tell him, once the laughter has subsided. “It’s cute that you think you know what kind of girl I am.”
Hoseok side-eyes the situation as Seokjin fishes out his credit card, feeling as though they’ve all interrupted something they shouldn’t have. What is more shocking is the fact that Jeongguk accepts the challenge- he’s normally isolative with his voice when around new people, only comfortable at home or on the stage surrounded by people screaming lyrics he died to dream up and write down.
“Aren’t I right though?” Jeongguk asks, smiling like he’s got it figured out. “The pretty innocent girls like you...I’m the kind of guy your family warned you about.” While Namjoon snorts, Taehyung nods, supporting Jeongguk’s statement as you look over his shoulder at him.
Before you can even speak, Yoongi barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he returns Seokjin’s card. “Guk, you have no clue.”
If there’s one thing Jeongguk dislikes, it’s feeling as though he’s missing out on something. Back and forth, he looks at both yourself and Yoongi, waiting for an explanation. Yoongi prolongs it, finding sadistic enjoyment in the gradual irritation solidifying on his face, his tongue prodding his inner cheek with a bored expression to match.
“Dude, her daddy’s Axel Choi,” Yoongi snorts, and he laughs loudly when Jeongguk’s whole face drops to the floor, the butterflies in his stomach replaced with an instant sourness, like the bitter burn of alcohol after one too many glasses.
Bewildered, Jeongguk is rendered speechless, and while Yoongi burps laughter and makes a note of the stock now that Seokjin has purchased something, the respective remaining four members of August Blue share cautious glances, apprehensively watching what Jeongguk does or says. Saying Axel Choi feels stupid and minute, but within Jeongguk’s world, it has the same consequence as saying Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter. Whatever attempts Jeongguk has made to forgive or forget what Axel Choi once said to him in that 7-Eleven in Busan is fruitless, the judging and patronising tone clear in his ears, flooding back like a PTSD.
“Wait, what the fuck?”
“Ooh,” you start, lifting up with excitement, “what did he dooo?”, at the same time that Namjoon warningly mutters Jeongguk’s name.
“You look nothing like him,” Jeongguk says dumbly.
“That’s kinda where the step comes in. Stepdad, no blood relation, thank fuck!”
“Come on, Guk, it’s not like she was even there when he shat on all your hopes and dreams,” Yoongi frowns, raising his hand slightly in an effort to diffuse the tension. Purposefully, he ignores the way you look at Yoongi with question, realising instantly that Jeongguk’s behaviour isn’t a matter of personality but instead pride, a desperation to prove himself. “Lay off.”
“He’s family.”
“Is he fuck,” you snort, the sound and language together making Jeongguk even more confused, his head pounding with a mixture of nausea and relief, the upset of his seventeen year old self something he can’t quite shrug off, like the memory of a bad dream. “And, come on. Isn’t that unfair? Put it this way- your dad kills someone, should we go to jail too just because we’re family?” Jeongguk says nothing. “Besides, he’s been married to my Mom for like, six years? And I still don’t like him or get along with him!”
“We just have...bad experiences with him,” Namjoon admits, not forgetting to throw a glare in Jeongguk’s temperamental direction, and he reacts with a jerk, an annoyed scoff leaving his mouth.
Jeongguk crosses his arms. “He told us we’d never succeed. The fucker basically said we didn’t have the talent to be big.”
“And yet, here you are,” you point out thoughtfully, and Jeongguk pauses, acknowledging you fully. “People always succeed when others are negative. I guess we’ll just have to prove him wrong, hm?”
The funny part is that Jeongguk absolutely knows that you are right. In spite of the jarring fact that Axel Choi’s memory is now back in his life with the news of your connections to him, Jeongguk is fully aware of how none of this is your fault. Jeongguk knows better than anybody that baseless judgements were more often unhelpful and toxic than not, and instantly, an apology is brewing in his mouth, words connected by thin strings in his brain, formulating two simple words that feel impossible to mouth.
Alas, rockstars and their inflated egos; Jeongguk swallows the words back down, battling the urge to say what’s truly on his mind because he’s afraid of what might come out in its place.
So he walks.
Dejected and confused, Jeongguk spares a look at everybody in the room before shaking his head, as if trying to get something out of his head. The worry that slightly pools in your stomach at the sight of it worsens when he storms back down the length of the stacks, closely followed by Hoseok who is a foot away from calling his name. For the rest of the band, it seems, this is instrinctic of Jeongguk, and they quietly but speedily finish up and follow suit. Before he exits, Namjoon smiles over at you, something hidden in the movement that assures you it’s not your fault, even when your agape mouth and stuttering starts suggest you feel otherwise.
Jeongguk makes it out of DBOY before his lungs cave inwards, the hot smell of air pumping into his body as he steps outside to catch his breath. Hoseok’s hand comfortingly presses between his shoulder blades as he finally catches back up with the younger, and Jeongguk refrains from snatching himself away. The demon in his head cackles and the desperate angel pets his hair, tells him that if he pushes more people away, he’ll have nobody. Jeongguk’s not sure if he’s heard that angel speak before.
Hoseok guides Jeongguk back towards the car, silently accepting that Jeongguk didn’t mean it. He never does. He quietly accepts it, patting his leg when Jeongguk sits down once the car is unlocked. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word, not even when the rest of August Blue pile in the car, animatedly talking about the Korean restaurant they’re planning to eat at next. Clockwork routine, they never bring it up afterwards.
The car pulls away and Jeongguk winds the window down with a frown. He’d like a cigarette.
Not that Jeongguk has been counting, but it has been four days since August Blue had visited DBOY.
Against his tight schedules consisting of long hauls in Adora’s studio, revising songs and making minor changes to each track in preparation for the album release in a few days time, the mere memory of DBOY has been the last thing and least important thing on his mind. In sooth, he doesn’t think about it until he’s alone, vulnerable in his own personal comforts surrounded by white and red. The memory haunts him, keeps him awake for no reason. Jeongguk wishes he could go back, wipe the slate clean, listen to the angel and not be such a prick. He can do this- he does do this.
On the following day, Jeongguk wakes up with a free schedule, waking in bed with the dark grey sheets belted around his lower waist. Casting a glance to his phone that lights up distractedly with notifications, he sees that the time reads eleven am and he yawns. Knowing the rest of the band, they’ve probably scattered already; Hoseok had mentioned something off-handedly last night about spending the day with Roseanne, and Namjoon would most likely be reading alone or exploring with Taehyung, the final man of the hour, Seokjin, sleeping in until it hurts to sleep.
He could do the same, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jeongguk gets himself up and ready, finding his body lead itself back in the direction of DBOY, only realising that he’s come back when he’s outside the front blinking up at the sign.
Somewhere down the street, the sound of screaming reaches his ears- sometimes it’s hard to escape the fans who long for a glimpse at their idols, and to avoid them catching on as to where he’s fled to, Jeongguk hurls himself through the heavy metal door and into the store. It comes as no surprise that it’s empty inside, cool again and this time bursting the lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac record he can’t quite remember the name of but recognises.
The long walk down the length of the aisle is intimidating, daunting as Jeongguk walks and sees nobody behind the desk. Aside from the echoed sound of Fleetwood Mac, the store is virtually silent- admittedly, there is a small group of teenagers at the other end talking quietly, but they are so muted that Jeongguk at first doesn’t realise they are there. Instead he continues forward, slowing significantly when he reaches the desk and finds absolutely nobody in attendance.
For a second, Jeongguk considers leaving. However, the herd of fans he had stalking him outside are no doubt still outside somewhere, and as soon as he considers it, the sound of your voice makes his head snap up attentively. The door that joins the desk space to the back office rattles slowly and then pulls open, and Jeongguk inhales a breath when you step out, as charming as you were five days prior.
Jeongguk is all you see when you pick your chin up, staring at his face closely as he hovers lumpishly, looking out of place. Before he can speak, you regard his appearance, a flattering mixture of tonal blacks; the tight leather jacket covering a black roll neck and tight skinny jeans, even the trademark face-mask that has been pulled below his face, hanging by his neck.
“Oh,” you breathe softly, stunned. “Jeongguk, right?…”
“Hi,” he replies, and you take pleasure in noticing the dulled volume of his voice. “You’re here.”
He considers it a win when you smile. “Well, I do work here.”
“Yeah, I know, I don’t know why I said that,” Jeongguk mutters. “I just...Are you free?”
You make your way towards the desk, gently kicking an empty storage box with your feet. “Sadly, I am always free. You know, considering Yoongi is so popular, this shop is always empty. What’s up with that?” It’s rhetorical, and Jeongguk laughs gently. “What’s up? Left something here? I didn’t think you’d come back...well, after…”
Jeongguk frowns immediately, the unmissable darkened gaze of regret on his face. “That’s actually why I came back. Look.” He sighs, deeply and loudly. “I know it’s not your fault. With Axel.” As he speaks, your gaze is glued on him, your eyes occasionally scanning various parts of his face. “And it’s so fucking unfair for me to hold you against things he said before you even knew him, or whatever, yknow? I guess it just caught me off guard.”
You nod genuinely. “It happens.”
“And, look, I know I don’t even really know you that well, but I can tell you’re just nothing like him,” Jeongguk continues, his temper rising slowly. “You’re kind, and funny, and he’s just an asshole and-” But he stops. And, what? And, he’s still family.
“You’re right,” you agree, laughter spilling from your tongue. “No, he’s the biggest asshole. And his music sucks, let’s be honest.” Jeongguk’s mouth opens, like he wants to speak. “No wonder it took him fourteen years to make a hit…” And he laughs, loudly and in agreement.
It must be a rarity to see him smile, to hear him laugh; with your heart in the sky, staring at Jeongguk laugh makes you feel warm, your hands quivering with satisfaction at the way his eyes curve into horizontal brackets, like moons, his teeth free with the comfort of knowing he’s safe being happy.
So, explicitly, he doesn’t say sorry like he wanted to. He tries- the words are right there, it would be easy, it is easy. As always, you are understanding, sympathetic to Jeongguk as he struggles to get his words out coherently. You know what he means. You like that he cared enough to try, anyway.
Realistically, he could have left it there, and maintained that stereotypical air of mystery and unavailability he’s used to showing people. On the contrary, Jeongguk finds more reasons to slink back towards DBOY, until he’s entirely familiar with your work schedule, having accidentally turned up when you were at a lecture, and had to suffer the pressing curiosity of your cousin. Yoongi had been so over Jeongguk pretending he was here out of personal pleasure of being surrounded by music that he had eventually just told him your work times, prompting Jeongguk into working harder in the studio to ensure more free time.
Like always, nobody in the band minded. If it meant Jeongguk was investing his spare time in something other than his own loneliness, they were happy to let it be. As for yourself, the reoccuring showing of Jeongguk in DBOY was at first, something you anticipated until the third showing where he had turned up in what you think might be his best look yet. Finally, he wears splashes of colour, his aura breathing with life as he turns up to the store wearing blue denim jeans, with maroon boots and a red beanie over his hair which has been flattened.
Each visit from the man is memorable in its own way, for either parties; you gradually learn that Jeongguk was the lead singer of August Blue, his accent distinctly Australian no thanks to his mother’s dual citizenship that resulted in many family holidays out there, and the year abroad that had chanced him to meet Yoongi. In return, Jeongguk learns that you haven’t even turned twenty yet, your birthday approaching soon, and that your a dilettante, knowing virtually nothing technical about music and instead comfortable in the field of physical art, a first year studying visual art and media.
Jeongguk learns all of this on the third visit. On the fourth, he finds out that you’ve finally listened to his bands music in time for their album release the following day, now in love with the truth of their lyrics, a direct quote from your mouth that Jeongguk remembers perfectly. And on the day of THREE AM’s release, on one of his final days before tour preparations are due to start, Jeongguk finds himself in DBOY with the sound of his own voice on the speakers, and the breathtaking sight of you dancing while stacking the shelves.
It’s a new track, one off the album that dropped this morning. Dancer In The Dark plays all around him, his mind reeling when he reaches you, your back to him and hips twirling as you work. You don’t even need to turn around for Jeongguk to know that you look gorgeous- that’s something that has changed over the past few weeks of Jeongguk returning to DBOY to see you, and annoy Yoongi, respectively.
Something inside of Jeongguk now craves you, beyond the simple lust he would have imagined. Perhaps it’s the way you didn’t know who he was, treated him like a human being rather than a God; maybe it was the way you’re so ordinary, a taste of normality Jeongguk misses, or the way you’re a relation to someone he’s been working for the past four years to prove wrong. It could well be all three.
The baby blue teddy coat over your body covers your skirt, a display of smooth and tanned legs for him to leer at, your hair once again twirled into loose curls, half up and half down, a signature style like Ariana’s high pony.
Evidently, you’re unaware of his entry. Yoongi still hasn’t changed the bell above the door and the speakers playing his record are right above your head; this gives Jeongguk the perfect opportunity to quietly approach you from behind, waiting until the chorus fades to an end for him to carefully press his hands into your waist with a soft “boo” pushing between his lips.
In turn, you jump, his hands momentarily cupping your waist as you move out of his grasp, turning around defensively to see who in the right mind would dare to put a hand on you, only for the guard to be dropped with reassurance once you see Jeongguk behind you, a grin on his face.
“Hi, you,” you say to him, wincing when you realise how loud the music is. “Congrats on the album release!”
Jeongguk laughs boyishly. “Yeah? You like it?”
“Mhm!” you assure, nodding with emphasis. Jeongguk follows the hint of moving away from the loud music as his voice transitions into the opening chords of a David Bowie track. “Do you even have a bad song? Like, the difference between Vibes, Dancer in the Dark and Keep it Up...gorgeous.” He laughs again, feeling over the moon at your authentic excitement. “I really love your voice.”
If humans could melt, Jeongguk would be gloop. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it, I’m glad you like it.” His brows quirk playfully, “Clearly.” He means your dancing, circular swirls to his voice, and you conceal a smile and look away quickly.
“I recognise Hold Your Breath, too,” you continue, choosing to deliberately ignore his playful comment. One might even assume it to have been flirting. “Isn’t that one of your earlier songs?”
By this point, you’ve hopped over the desk, slid over the wood as Jeongguk watched your coat and skirt hike up with the lift of your leg. “Mmm. I see you’ve done your homework,” he comments.
“I got...curious,” you defend weakly. “I like that song. I’m so glad you decided to do a studio version, it is what she deserved!”
Today might be a new record broken for How Many Times Can Jeon Jeongguk Laugh In Your Company.
“Well, there you have it. You can listen to all of it in HD to make up for me not being here for a while.” Your smile falters and Jeongguk smiles in an attempt to ease your disappointment. “We start our promotions next weekend, actually. Just a couple shows in the States, nothing huge.”
“Oh,” you nod, your voice oddly lost and spacious. “Ugh, I’d love to see you live. I bet it’s gonna sound amazing.”
A breath hitches in Jeongguk’s throat. Come on, idiot, jeers the demon inside of him. The angel slaps him on the back of the head but his words do not cease. You haven’t got all day to do it.
“Then come,” he blurts.
Mirroring him, your mouth falls round, open. “...O-M-G, I’d love to...but I’m like...broke,” you tell him, jokingly but around the truth you both know is there.
“Y/N, you can come for free, I’m inviting you,” Jeongguk explains slowly, the grin widening on his face. Awestruck, you’re lost in the beauty of it. “I want you to come. See us play, see me. You won’t have to pay for a single thing- everything’s on me.” He breathes, “Please,” added as an afterthought.
Admittedly, he hadn’t anticipated the following silence. “When?” you ask, breathily.
“Next Saturday,” Jeongguk offers, having thought about it since before the album came out. “At the Hollywood Palladium. It’s our opening show, and I’d just really, really like for you to be there.” You think about the date for a moment, smiling when you realise what day the date falls on.
“Hollywood? That’s...amazing, Jeongguk, really,” you tell him, your voice quiet still. “...Can I bring a friend? When I listened to August Blue, they were there and we both got really invested.”
A weight is lifted off Jeongguk’s shoulders knowing that his offer has been considered. He smiles brightly, the moons back out. “Depends. Is your friend male?”
Now it is your turn to grin, your weight held up by your elbows as you lean on top of the desk towards him, slotted between his hands. His familiar hazelnut scent is strong here. “Yes. He’s male, gay, and incredibly in love with my cousin.”
What Jeongguk feels is not relief, or irritation; an elevated feeling of happiness stirs in his chest. You are so unlike anybody he’s met, from the way you see the humour in everything he says, not taking him seriously enough to treat him like he’s better than everything else, and the way you make him feel like there’s something about him worth liking; to the way you’re probably the only person he’s ever met who genuinely likes the Sharknado franchise. It without a doubt goes without saying that good things pop up where you least expect them to, in people you didn’t anticipate meeting. Feeling like his head is in the clouds, Jeongguk’s lips press together into a smile, bashful in appearance and nods, satisfied.
“Okay then,” he nods, taking a second to grasp the situation before he laughs to himself, scratching his ear absentmindedly. “Here’s my number for then, then. You can call me when you arrive, and then I’ll come out and get you, or I’ll have our manager sort some things out, so you can skip the lines and get in before everyone else.”
“Alright,” you agree softly. “Thank you, Jeongguk.”
Although he shakes his head nonchalantly, feigning only a moderate amount of happiness, on the inside, Jeongguk’s body is screaming, his heart vibrating rapidly in his chest. On the other side, even when he bounces into a following conversation about your hair and the new book placed on the desk that you’ll probably read when you’re bored later today, you feel like you can’t breathe, can’t quite comprehend the fact Jeongguk is standing before you, his number in your phone, the sun unmatching his smile.
Some things don’t feel right, but being with Jeongguk isn’t one of them. Maybe luck is on your side for once.
(LOS ANGELES)
“So. You’ve decided to be late.”
Adjacent to where you’re standing, Park Jimin lies like a starfish on your bedsheets, his chin tilted up to the ceiling in agonising boredom as you fuss over your hair for the literal fifth time in the last four minutes.
Meeting Jimin was both the joy and the bane of your life, the boy being an unstable balance of chaotic and neutral, his sole purpose in life being to annoy the shit out of you. It had been a lovely sunny morning the day you first met him- only it had begun to thunderstorm the second he entered the arts classroom, pathetic fallacy. Being the quiet black sheep clearly did not always work in your favour considering the only spare seat left was the one next to you, meaning fate had decided to bring you both together to sketch still-life pears and grapes. Either that or a case of big, bad luck- the opinion differed depending on who you asked.
Regardless, here you both are; by cordial invite from Jeon Jeongguk himself, you have around twenty minutes to get to a venue that is thirty five away, and Jimin huffs for the fifth consecutive time, pointedly glancing over as you finish applying a generous amount of lipstick that no doubt will fade during the show. Your face is an art-piece, your body modestly covered in a silk buttoned shirt patterned with red flowers, tucked into some comfortable black jeans that Jimin turns his nose up at.
“They’re comfortable,” you argue weakly, finally following him to the car and deciding to do your shoes in the backseat. As half promised over text, Jeongguk sent a vehicle, the driver impatient and displeased by your tardiness but he says nothing, because it’s his job to drive, not to speak.
“Skinny jeans are the most impractical outfit for getting dicked down,” Jimin says with a clipped tone. “And isn’t it obvious that Jeongguk wants to do that?”
You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It might not be like that.”
Jimin genuinely laughs. “Oh, come on- it totally is. Why else would he invite you backstage, send a car, and stop by at your work almost daily?”
“Maybe he wants to be friends?” you suggest, but both you and Jimin know that’s so far from the truth that you can’t even see it- you just don’t want to admit it just yet. When Jimin’s tongue darts out of his mouth with a smirk, you roll your eyes and lean down to your feet as the driver cruises down the street on the clock.
[17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: hey are you on your way??
[17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: havent heard from u
[17:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: u ok?
About ten minutes into the drive, almost peaceful save Jimin’s random questions about Jeongguk, or the venue, neither particularly answerable at this stage, a series of notifications flood your phone. Taking the chance to answer while Jimin finds time to bully the driver into talking to him to cure his driving boredom, you glance down at the messages, your body reacting with a flush when you see Jeongguk’s name light up in bold.
[17:41PM] You: yes !!!! in the car rn
His reply is instantaneous.
[17:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cool 😋 as long as ur safe
[17:42PM] Jeongguk 🎼: got worried lol
“Five minutes,” the driver calls, to nobody in particular as he pulls up to a set of traffic lights. Oblivious to speed limits, he seems to have got you there in the designated twenty, before the gates opened for the crowds outside.
[17:44PM] You: we will be there in five minutes ☺️
[17:44PM] You: : i’ll text you when we’re here
[17:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cutie, see you then 😛
You are grown, and too old to be crushing over a boy like you’re in high school, but the way Jeongguk interacts makes your toes curl with a whole new alien type of fondness, the need to giggle paramount. You refrain from doing so, because if Jimin hears he will never let you live it down. In an effort to ignore the excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins, your leg bounces erratically as the driver, who is apparently named Joe after the chauffeur bodyguard in The Princess Diaries (no thanks to Jimin and his “boredom” which borders insensitivity), pulls up in the barricaded staff car park. The fans outside have no idea: they just see a car and start screaming, their cheers making goosebumps ripple up your arms like romantic kisses.
“That makes me feel really important,” Jimin mutters, perhaps glum about the fact that he hasn’t had this much attention since he was chubby and innocent in third grade. “Ready to go?”
“Yep,” you breathe, unsure as to whether or not you mean it. Nevertheless, Jimin opens the car door and steps out, instantly making a crowd gathered by the barricade scream. They scream for anything, just wanting to be heard, but being Jimin, he soaks it up as you clamber out on the other side.
Jeongguk seems particularly popular, and it probably wouldn’t look good if fans saw an unknown girl get out the car to go backstage. You know how fans are, how it’s easy to jump to conclusions without the facts. While Jimin raises his hand to teasingly wave at the girls who scream in response, you follow Bodyguard Joe to the backstage door guarded by two oversized muscular men, bowing your head as you enter and feel the heat of the backstage rooms hit you in the face.
At some point, Jimin joins you inside, shuffling around your body when he spots Yoongi appear at the end of the opening corridor. Yoongi is always invited to August Blue shows, by personal invitation of the band-members who are mostly Namjoon. Remembering that Jeongguk technically has no idea you’re here, you quickly shoot him a text message before a female staff member touches your shoulder gently, offering a lanyard with VVIP written in black ink, likely a band members handwriting. She smiles, quickly running over the safety regulations because, give her a break, it’s her damn job. You’re nodding, acknowledging her words blindly until she’s done, sending you on your way towards Taehyung who pops his head around the corner and smiles brightly when he sees you.
“Hey, you!”
Quite honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever said a word to Taehyung before. He doesn’t seem particularly awkward to speak to you despite this fact, and beckons you closer with a wave of his hand. As you draw nearer, you smell the faint aroma of vodka crossed with raspberry, clinging to his clothes and mouth as he comes close to speak so you can hear him over the heavy bass filling the speakers.
“What?” you ask him loudly, seeing his mouth move with nothing coming out. All you can hear is the recording of Obsessive on the speakers, pounding, reverberating the floor beneath your Dr Martens.
“I said,” Taehyung shouts, his lips on your ear, “Jeongguk’s waiting for you. I need a wee really badly, but he’s in the artists lounge, that way.” He points vaguely in a direction, but the sight of Jimin stepping in and out of a room indicates the general direction regardless. “Enjoy the show, yeah?”
“Course!” you nod to him, and he wastes zero seconds staring at you and legs it in the opposite direction, towards where you assume the toilets are. Your eyes follow him as he leaves in endearment; he’s cute, constantly looking bewildered and confused. It’s his almond eyes, like puppy dogs’.
But the thought of seeing Jeongguk outweighs watching Taehyung leave; you hurry down the corridor and enter the room you expect to be the artists lounge, and your breath is taken away immediately when Jeongguk is the first thing you see.
As if anticipating your entry, he stands the second you enter, and while he moves, you freeze. Jeongguk looks absolutely breathtaking: his hair is curly, falling over his face with a slight parting not directly centered, hooped earrings hanging from his earlobes, adding a sparkle secondary to the way his eyes are shining in the backstage lights. His skin is gorgeously tanned, shaded and accentuated by the slipping material of his shirt that reveals the expanse of his collarbones, the black complementing the tightness of his jeans. You don’t get to look at his shoes- he stops at your toes and you peer back up at his face, rendered speechless by the smile on his face.
“Hi,” Jeongguk says, laughing as if it’s so crazy that you’re here, actually here. Before you can even think of speaking, Jeongguk inhales a breath and brings it back in with one movement; he reaches for you, encircling his arms around you for a quick hug that you’re not going to let go to waste. As soon as he feels your hands on his back, he pulls you closer, tighter almost, one hand on your lower spine and the other on the back of your head.
The hug is genuinely short, but it feels eternal.
“You made it,” he comments, his voice so bewildered that for a moment, you’re actually confused. Jeongguk speaks insecurely and it makes your heart wrench- you wonder who hurt him before, what made him think that he wasn’t deserving of things as simple as somebody coming to a show when he asked them to.
“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” you tell him truthfully, your arms slipping to his forearms. “I’m excited!”
Jeongguk grins happily. “Me too! Ah, I’m happy you’re here. You look gorgeous.” And without shame, he drags his gaze up and down your body.
“That’s good, then,” comes Jimin’s thrown in comment from across the room, where he occupies one of the leather seats next to Yoongi and across from Hoseok, who fidgets skittishly and fiddles his fingers at a Rubix cube. “Do you know how close we were to being late because she was busy deciding a lip colour? Jimin should I go red or nude? Jimin does this shirt go with my shoes? Jimin should I paint my nails red or black to match?”
A laugh ripples out of Jeongguk’s chest and he looks back at you adoringly.
“That’s not how it happened,” you protest weakly, pouting when Jimin cackles and smirks. “And we made it didn’t we? Shut up before I revoke the plus one card.”
“I’m already here, though,” Jimin reasons.
“I’ll force you outside,” you reply.
Yoongi pulls a face, then, finally joining the conversation. “Y/N, you can’t even open the front door to the shop when you enter, let alone drag Jimin outside. Nice try, though.”
An offended gasp leaves your mouth and Jeongguk turns around, petting the top of your head. “It’s okay. Sometimes, even I can’t open it. Anyway- drink?”
You decline this offer, not really wanting to drink anything heavy in fear of vomiting it up when the show starts. Based on your history, throwing up when you’re overly excited seems to be a dirty habit, something Jimin is very happy sharing when you opt for a glass of water while Jeongguk carefully pours himself a glass of whiskey. He doesn’t tease or poke fun. Jeongguk simply smiles, like the story is a memory he’s fond of remembering, and nods you in the direction of the couch where he wants you to sit. It stays this way right up until the show starts, and then the chaos begins and the nerves settle.
Now, you’ve never been backstage before, never seen how crazy it gets as the show’s about to start. While the rest of the band hurry around collecting outfit pieces, taking a drink or tuning their instruments to perfection, Jeongguk quietly tugs at your arm and brings you to the side, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face, a frequently used expression when it concerns yourself.
“Rachel is our main backstage manager and she’s gonna take you and Jimin down to where I’ve put you for the show, yeah?” he explains, his gaze intent. Rachel is the woman from earlier, smiling patiently near the door. You spare her a glance and then look back at Jeongguk. “I’ve put you down by the stage so I can see you, okay?”
You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”
“Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in the crowd, you’re right by the stage in front of the barricade with the staff,” Jeongguk says. “Safe and sound, comfy and cosy. Can you come back after the show? There’s a party. I’ll- I’ll take you?” His tone is expectant, hopeful, and you’d be absolutely insane to let him down.
“I’ll come,” you promise. “Good luck!”
Again with the boyish charms; Jeongguk’s following smile is relaxed and lopsided, his head similarly quirked.
“Thanks, baby,” he calls, his smile widening when he notices the surprise flood your cheeks. “Cheer loud for me?”
“Always,” you tell him, gauging the scrunch of his eyes before Rachel directs both Jimin and yourself out of the backstage vicinity and towards the VVIP standing just next to the barrier. Whether or not Jimin overheard the entire ordeal is unclear; he doesn’t comment even if he did happen to overhear, remaining uncharacteristically silent until you reach your spot and he loosens up, gazing up at the stage in wonder.
When the venue feels packed to the brim and the reverberating bass of guitars literally vibrates the room, Jimin screams something about his excitement over the noise, catching your widened smile in his direction and laughing, throwing his arms around you.
Hollywood Palladium is genuinely packed to the brim, the fans by the barricade stamping excitedly as the VCR rolls to an end, the lights fade to a crimson red and silhouettes of August Blue appear on the stage. They are sensational, eliciting a chorus from the crowd that is deafening. Jimin laughs again, looking back and forth at the crowd and back at the stage, two girls from the barricade recognising him as the guy from outside and taking a photo, likely anticipating that he is of importance.
Like all concerts, the first five minutes are mind-blowing, epic and fantastical and slightly nerve-racking for all parties. At the sound of the opening chords of Meddle About, another wave of screams pierce the crowd and you wince, not expecting it but a smile still wide on your face. The cymbals crash and the lights flash brightly, revealing Jeongguk on the stage at the front, both his hands on the microphone as he speaks the first words of the night, lyrics dripped in smooth vocals that make your body swirl like on drugs. It’s mesmerising, sexy and sounding perfectly like the studio recording.
Hearing them live is a whole different experience- the way that August Blue perform is otherworldly, feeling like you’re in a subspace of slow-motion, every movement on stage emphasised. Not wanting to waste all of the show gawking at the lead vocalist, you glance at all of the other members, in awe of their talents and presence on the stage, even spotting the golden gleam of a saxophone in your peripheral vision. It is only then that you register the fact that Taehyung plays the saxophone live, and excitement and anticipation replaces birthed nerves from the opening song.
When Meddle About fades to a finale, Jeongguk smiles to himself widely as the melody to Obsessive plays almost immediately after, Namjoon’s riff introducing Jeongguk’s welcoming, “Hollywood Palladium, are you ready?” before he dives into the song. Here, Taehyung fiddles for his sax and beams down at both you and Jimin, returning to his spot to play as the song continues.
Like all songs from August Blue, you wish it would never end, your heels grinding the floor as you bop in Jimin’s arms, his chin buried in your neck as he rocks you from side to side affectionately. For the entirety of the song, and even after then, you refuse to take your eyes off Jeongguk; he moves with calculation and care, the world his bitch beneath his feet as he smirks, fucking the crowd, swirling in figure eight motions as he sings. Jeongguk is the eighth wonder of the world.
Obsessive ends, your torso rising and falling after their performance. It was a show of elan, your body buzzing with small vibrations like a bumblebee; Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, and he exchanges caring looks with the other members, giving them the opportunity to catch their breath as he once again addresses the crowd.
“Hollywood…” he starts, smiling wolfishly when the crowd erupts into piercing screams, the fans at the barrier pounding against the metal bars impatiently and Jimin eyes them cautiously, wrapping his arms tighter around you and considerately shuffling further away. Jeongguk glances down, then, making sure everything is okay, and his eyes fall on you. The first thing he sees is your smile, enamoured and bright and wide, like golden light at the end of a dark tunnel he can’t get out of. You notice now that he speaks how strong the accent is, months and years of Australian visits clearly paying off. It’s nice, new and different, completely unlike how he speaks in Korean. “We feelin’ good tonight?”
The crowd respond gleefully, and Jeongguk chuckles into the microphone.
“Thank you all for coming out here tonight,” Jeongguk begins, swaying slightly on his feet. The movement is endearing. “Being here, on this stage, is something we have dreamed about, and now that we’re here...Wow. We couldn’t be here without you guys. Everyone who’s here- friends, family, lovers-” the crowd scream because they’re used to being mentioned this way, but when Jeongguk’s gaze briefly flickers down to you, you immediately burn up, curling into Jimin as your best friend laughs knowingly, squeezing you tighter when Jeongguk finishes his speech to the crowd, “-you guys are fucking awesome. You like the album?”
Of course, Jeongguk is not alone on the stage. Reminded of this fact, you pay attention to each members introduction, occasionally finding your eyes wandering back to the lead vocalist who seems to always be staring back. In a sea of screaming fans and waving banners, Jeongguk’s eyes land on you each time, as if reminding himself that you are here, you are here for him.
When the band finish their introductions and Jeongguk says his piece, and the opening hum from the guitars around him announce Dancer in the Dark, Jeongguk glances at you one final time and sees the way your body reacts to the song familiar to your ears, a curve extending the corner of his mouth. Jeongguk brings his attention back to the crowd where it will stay for the rest of the concert, his mind wandering between each lyric and break. Maybe- just maybe, things would work out for him in the end.
DEVIL IN THE DARK.
(HOLLYWOOD)
There is a constant hum in your ears, your fingertips vibrating as you force yourself out of the car.
Judging by the sky draped in an ebony black, it’s either extremely late or extremely early, the loud music from the large estate already audible and you haven’t even entered the party yet. Even though Jeongguk had expected to take you in his personal vehicle to the party that would celebrate their first American show of the year, things hadn’t exactly gone to plan; his eyes met yours as soon as you hurried backstage to find him, pleading and frantic and your name on the tip of his tongue, unspoken when Rachel ushers the band out of the venue after an already overstayed welcome. Still, the frequent vibration of your phone under your thigh when you settled travelling with Yoongi and Jimin instead kept your thoughts preoccupied, Jeongguk’s contact practically permanent on your lock screen.
[23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: shit !!!!!
[23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: i wanted to wait but they kept pushing me outside
[23:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: did u get out safe?
[23:43PM] You: yep don’t worry !!!
[23:43PM] You: we’ll be on our way soon
[23:44PM] You: im hungry so we’re getting food first oops
[23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok baby see u soon
[23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼 is typing…
The triple dots are constant.
Bodyguard Joe is the driver who drops you off, muttering under his breath when all three of you pile out the back and he’s free to leave. Before Yoongi can even shut the door properly he is speeding away, desperate to get out of there. Yoongi can’t say he blames him- he’s only staying for a little bit, at least until Jeongguk starts being Jeongguk. He deliberately doesn’t mention it to you. He wants you to see it for yourself.
Inside, it’s hard to see through the smoke. There had only been about fourty minutes difference between Jeongguk arriving there and the three of you, and evidently, they waste no time bringing the party into motion. Already, guests either by invite or chance are drunk, intoxicated with dark beer bottles and shot glasses, a wreckage of splintery glass by the door surrounded by a pair of shoes, like a warning. The lights are dimmed, each room dark save a lamp with a dying bulb or LED lights, flashing rainbow colours to the beats of songs, the smell of alcohol and weed lifting in the air. It’s rancid, strong and pungent but typical of parties you’d expect celebrities within the realm of Jeongguk to do, people who held the world at arms length.
Along the wall, the coat pegs are covered in a bundle of mismatched coats and jackets, a single Converse hanging by its laces as some sort of practical joke. In light of this, you decide to just keep your coat thrown over your shoulders, the black suede comfortable and moreover protective as faces you’ve never even seen before regard you with high interest as you pass. Jimin scowls and drags you closer to him, Yoongi leading the way with a gaze that could kill, parting the sea of dancers like Moses. The vibe, however, remains undisturbed, the bodies continuing to dance and drink as they were before Min Yoongi stepped through the mix, with two virtual nobodies behind him. He knows where he’s going- he’s done this before.
This mansion is a maze, with corridors leading everywhere, filled with bodies you didn’t know. You deduce that the main parlour where you’re headed to is the hub of the party, judging by the way the small groups of people outside become multiplied, the sound of laughter and music louder when you enter through a doorway. The room is soaked in an indigo neon light, the long haul of strip lights attached to the moulding by the ceiling by silver pins; almost all of August Blue accommodate one of the recliner sofas, one particular male suspiciously absent.
“Yoongi!” Faintly over the sound of the music, Namjoon’s voice carries its way to your trio, Yoongi’s attention moving to the band and he moves in that direction, with both Jimin and yourself close on his heels. Namjoon already looks affected by the alcohol stirring in a whiskey glass, the colour clear and making no difference when it sloshes over the side onto the bare skin of his forearms. Exchanging a tight lipped smile with Hoseok, who seats a beautiful girl on his lap who sips her drink quietly, you glance around the room for Jeongguk, your heart sinking when you don’t spot him anywhere.
“Great show,” Yoongi says, now that the music has been turned down somewhat, no thanks to Taehyung who has just stepped out of the bathroom and winced at the volume, now sitting back in his original spot beside Seokjin and his widened legs. As an afterthought, he adds, “as always. This is Jimin, by the way- and you know Y/N.”
Seokjin looks up from his glass: “Hi honey. Good night?”
“Yes, it was amazing,” you reply, your eyes wandering again. A few strangers are seated on the couch alongside the members, including three girls you aren’t familiar with. Two look out of this world, mentally vacant and the third watches you carefully, her lips pouted sourly. “Hello,” you call to her, uncomfortable.
“This is one of Rosanne’s friends, Cassandra,” Seokjin introduces, although he doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.
“Cassie,” she throws in.
“Oh, like the song,” you judge, looking back at Seokjin and catching the roll of his eyes before he can hide it away. Concealing a smile you look back at Cassandra.
“Yeah. Isn’t that funny?” she asks, giggling sweetly. “I like to tease Guk about it. It gets him shy. Did you see him on the way in, by the way? I’ve been looking for him.”
Oh. So she’s one of them- it’s evident in the way August Blue glance over at her with annoyance, glancing back at you with a blank stare. You know better. “No, actually. I just got here.”
“Well,” Cassandra-Cassie continues, smiling tightly, the look so ingenuine that it looks as though it hurts her to fake politeness, “if you see him, let him know that I’m looking for him.”
“Does he even know who you are?” Jimin asks before he can stop himself. Cassandra narrows her eyes.
“We met in passing.”
A snort exits Jimin’s nose. “If he remembers you, I’ll genuinely be surprised.”
Whatever is or isn’t said by the rest of the couch is unheard by you; once Jimin has finished his slander of Cassandra-Cassie whilst perched on Yoongi’s knees, you decide you’ve heard enough and pick yourself back up off the couch despite having only just sat down.
Whoever remains at the couch pays you no mind, aside from Yoongi who nods gently as you gesture to the connecting hallway, an arch in the cream smooth wall that no doubt leads to either the outside, the kitchen or a bathroom, perhaps all three at once. His eyes do not leave you until you’ve wormed your way out of the room, quietly and meekly weaving through bodies on the walls and declining at least three drinks offered in your direction. After peering into several rooms, including the kitchen that was far too crowded and scorching to even enter, and glanced out through the french doors to the scattered party outside, looking on the patio glowing in blues and pinks, the pool splashing with laughter.
Even the end bathroom that is larger than the kitchen is practically empty save the guy passed out in the bathtub with a glass of sparkling champagne in a slender glass on the sink, and you suddenly feel very dejected, closing the door behind you as you exit back to the long hallway. Maybe everything was too good to be true- maybe girls like Cassandra were girls Jeongguk had invited, like he had you, suddenly ghosting when they all appeared in the same room. It feels rude to assume that, but with no text messages or indication as to where he might be and with whom, disappointment begins to simmer in your stomach.
It nearly settles, confusing dejection with nausea and the thought of Jeongguk having played you is a thought you ruminate, until you’re halfway down the hall and a door to a connecting room that has now opened welcomes a body cloaked in the bedroom darkness, an arm leaning out to grasp your sleeve and pull you inside.
A strange sense of deja-vu hangs over this situation, familiarity striking with the hand that unwraps from around your arm and meets the second around your waist. Before you have even finished twirling to face the body in ownership of said arms, the sound of quiet chuckling makes you relax instantly, a smile growing when you fall with a soft thud against the torso of Jeongguk, his mouth in level with your eyes.
“Hi, stranger,” you laugh softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Jeongguk hums, and you catch a whiff of alcohol practically pouring off him. “Been hidin’. You found me, you win.” Jeongguk does a poor job of attempting to be sober, his speech slurred and his smile cheesy and smirkish. “I was tryna ride with you, but Joon shut the car door and we just drove off, you know?” You honestly don’t, but you nod anyway. “Tried to call you but dunno where my phone’s gone. Think Joon’s got it.”
“That explains why you weren’t replying,” you say, mostly to yourself. Jeongguk inhales the air through his nose quickly, one sniff, and relaxes his arms around your middle; his forearms are resting on your hip bones with his fingers gently stroking and drumming against your lower back, and it is here, with him so close, that you notice the glow of sweat on his hairline, the fringes slightly matted down and smudged black under his eye, glitter shines of his eyebrow piercing. “Got worried about you.”
“You were worried about me?” he repeats, that same smile on his face. Jeongguk sounds so amazed by this fact, so bewildered that you’d care.
Anticipation whirls in the pit of your stomach as his voice drops in volume and hardness, and the school-girl crush swims back to bite when Jeongguk’s forehead bends to press against your own, the taste of alcohol on your tongue before he’s even leaning in to kiss you. Jeongguk’s hands immediately fly to cradle your face, accidentally bringing a fistful of hair to your cheek as he holds you, practically picking your face up to warm to his mouth. It is just one kiss, long and deep and soft, leaving behind the taste of a bitter liquor.
Jeongguk’s eyes open through slits when he pulls away, analysing how you still haven’t come back to reality from it, and so he moves in again, in a body roll motion stealing a second kiss, his lips pressed up against you in full. He doesn’t know if it’s the booze in his veins or the electrifying feeling of your hands over him that has him buzzing all over- it could be both, for all he knew.
Beginning to doubt his own self control when you mumble and sigh into his mouth, Jeongguk gently brings himself away, out of the kiss and sending your eyes open in a daze. Cracking his own eyes open, Jeongguk restrains himself from going right back in- the orange glow from the outdoor lights shine on the left side of your face and his heart leaps, drumming in his ears. He frowns loudly, feeling your thumbs rub against his wrists. “Sorry.”
You pause, “Why?”
“For making you worry,” Jeongguk explains, his voice murmured through pouted lips. “I made the baby worry.”
“The baby?” you repeat, chuckling. He grins. “We’re almost the same age, y’know.”
“The baby,” Jeongguk coos, his giggles indicative of his level of soberness, which seems to be unlikely. “Little nineteen year old baby-”
“Twenty,” you add, and Jeongguk stops with a quiet “huh” that sounds like a baby, ironic. Jeongguk remembers you telling him your age, and that you’d be twenty soon. Had he missed your birthday? As if hearing his internal struggle, you smile softly: “Today is my birthday, actually.”
Truly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. His mouth hangs agape, like the information was sacred. “What…? You didn’t say anything- I could have got you something, done something-”
“This whole day has been a gift,” you stress, cutting him short and calming him down. “Truly. My Mom and Asshole are in the Maldives because that’s more important than me, and so I went out for breakfast with Jimin, skipped my yoga session because treat-yourself-vibes only on my birthday, and then I had the best time at your show and now we’re here. So, honestly-” as you talk, you finger his shirt, wrapping the material around your nail, “-everything has been amazing. This is my gift- you are my gift.”
Jeongguk pouts. “You’re way more important than the Maldives...you wanna go to the Maldives? Shall we go?” Based off the state of things, Jeongguk is a playful, chatty and overall excited drunk, his eyes blown wide with what you hope it just alcohol buzz. “I’ll take you.”
You laugh, gently stroking his jaw and very briefly, before he can get too addicted, kiss him. Before Jeongguk can pucker his lips back for you, you’re back on the ground with your feet flat, shyly smiling at the way he still tries anyway- because you can’t blame a man for trying.
“You like the party?” Jeongguk asks, unconcerned. His hands are back on your back, now, his arms wrapped around you tightly.
“Mm, it’s fun,” you agree. “Will you come out and join all of us? We’re all in the lounge-” you smirk up at him and he raises his brows, “Cassandra is there.”
“Who the fuck’s Cassandra?” questions his voice, and you laugh loudly, surprisingly gleeful.
“Someone else who was looking for you like me,” you tell him, frowning. He hums, interested in this fact and your expression. “Think she likes you.”
Outside the door, someone rattles at the handle, the noise falling short as though they’ve been stopped from entering. Jeongguk seizes the last word with a triumphant smile.
“Don’t worry,” he assures, and your gaze drops to his lips as his teeth drag on the bottom, pulling teasingly. “I’ve got my eye on someone special.”
There had been reasoning behind Yoongi’s decision to not mention Jeongguk’s habits.
For one, it’s none of his business to talk about what Jeongguk does and doesn’t do when under the influence. Secondly, he feels as though he’s not supposed to say, like it’s a secret he’s sworn to keep. Truthfully, Yoongi doesn’t want to give the wrong idea- he doesn’t want the truth to be misunderstood or misinterpreted, and so he stays quiet. Like all other members of August Blue when Jeongguk touches alcohol, he’s quiet. At this stage, there’s nothing he can do but wait for Jeongguk to stop, patient and helpful.
It has to be early hours, now, and if Yoongi’s phone wasn’t dead, he’d check. By this point, the party is on its last legs, the volume of people decreasing dramatically as songs become more slow and sultry, all the lights blood red. It’s about time he and Jimin leave, actually; like always, Seokjin and Taehyung have disappeared into one of their bedrooms on the second floor, and Namjoon is asleep on the couch with his mouth ajar, Hoseok and Roseanne planning to remain present in the hub until the party goes to sleep, because someone needs to clean up, and it sure as hell won’t be anybody else.
Yoongi bids his farewells individually, with Jimin needily clinging to the sleeve of his shirt with the vodka oozing out of his body, his head on a whole other planet. By the time Yoongi makes it to the other side of the room where you are with Jeongguk, he’s worried Jimin might actually fall asleep before they get to the car.
Something interesting has happened. Yoongi slowly moves towards the leftover crowd around Jeongguk and sees your face immediately, worry crossed with affection etched into the look on your face as Jeongguk tightly holds you on his lap, his legs twitching and smile on display. It’s around about this time Yoongi begins to overthink it, letting his gaze drop to your hands holding one of his while his other reaches out to the coffee table, littered with bottles and shot glasses, and most importantly, the puddles of white. He gulps, looking back at you. Surprisingly, you don’t look put off, or disgusted- more so you look sad, as if filled with intense guilt as Jeongguk hugs you, his heart in one place and head in another.
When one of the girls next to Jeongguk pats his arm and Jeongguk looks over, you spare the chance to look back in the direction of Jimin, overwhelmed with relief when you see him losing balance over the shoulder of your cousin. Jeongguk struggles for a second to let you free but he does, and you move towards Yoongi, already expecting his departure.
“You should leave too,” Yoongi says seriously. “Before he gets worse.”
He- you look over your shoulder at Jeongguk. Now, he’s on his knees, his chin on the coffee table as he inches towards a fresh line on the surface. Someone’s credit card sits decorated in the powder and Jeongguk, whilst pressing his finger to one nose, snorts the line without question and with a smile. You look away, facing Yoongi with a dark expression.
“You knew?”
“We all knew,” Yoongi sighs. “This...is moderate.”
Processing what he’s saying, you shake your head stubbornly. “If I leave, then it will get worse. I don’t want to leave him on his own. I wanna be here for him, before it gets worse than what it already is.”
“It will get worse, always does.”
“I don’t care, I’m not leaving him here,” you reason. “Before you tell me I’m not special and I can’t change him, I’m not here to change him. I’m here to support him. I’m gonna stay, make sure he’s okay.”
Yoongi really wants to intervene, warn you against it. People before you have tried, he wants to say. But he doesn’t; he smiles weakly, thinking about how you’re too good for the world and people around you and he brings you in for a hug, kissing the crown of your head.
“Alright. Happy birthday, by the way. Twenty...Hag,” Yoongi mutters before he pulls away. Jimin mirrors the movement, drunkenly giggling in your ear as he pulls away and thuds against Yoongi’s side. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t complain; secretly he likes the clinginess.
“Thanks, Yoongs,” you laugh, standing still until he steers himself and Jimin away from the scene and you’re left with no other option but to retreat back towards Jeongguk, who must be on his third line. The distinct and slightly jarring sound of snorting makes you hurry quicker towards him, until you can reach out and pet his hair, making him look up before he’s even finished the line.
The boyish grin that Jeongguk gives you when he looks up and sees your face is beyond beautiful, and he’s so distracted from the lines that he doesn’t notice or care when the girl next to him, displeased with his lack of attention, finishes it off for him. Doing everything in your power to not cry about how Jeongguk looks, fucked and wrecked with white powder under his nose, you shoot him a smile and smooth your hands down the side of his face.
“‘m pretty,” he mutters. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”
Laughter tugs at your throat, little puffs of air through your nose as you bend your head to meet his wandering gaze, wiping the powder from his nose before it kills you to keep looking at it. He sniffs, finding that it tickles, and plops his chin in your lap, hands on your thighs.
“Sleepy?” you ask, petting his curly hair.
“Mm.”
“Mm yes, or…?”
“Mm...comfy,” mutters Jeongguk. Through his hair, he looks up at you. “Can we make-out?”
You snort out a laugh, massaging his scalp. “Oh my God, you are so drunk. Come on, big guy.”
“Wanna stay with you,” Jeongguk says. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m not gonna leave you,” you tell him. “I promise. Look, everyone’s getting ready to leave now, too, I think the party’s pretty much over.”
Jeongguk eyes the room with a half-lidded gaze, furrowing his brows like he doesn’t quite know where he is. “Huh. Everyone left.”
“Mhm.” He starts to reach for the cocaine on the table again and your heart beats with panic. “Hey, I think that’s enough now.”
“Lemme finish,” Jeongguk requests.
“You’ve had enough,” you stress, taking hold of his hand. “Let’s leave it there for tonight, okay, baby?”
Jeongguk’s head snaps towards you. “Baby?”
You nod, affirming. “Yes. Look, oh, I’m so tired-” you pretend to yawn, keeping one eye open to observe his expressions as he smiles childishly.
“You’re faking,” he accuses.
“Nope. I’m so tired, let’s go sleep,” you continue.
Jeongguk continues to smile, occasionally laughing when the sound can get out of his throat. You’re half expecting it to be a waste of time, for him to insist on taking more lines and drinking more booze, but he does neither of these things. Jeongguk nods once and runs his hands across your thighs, taking them in his palms and roughly squeezing, getting to his feet when you tug him up.
Across the box shaped recliner pattern, Cassandra-fucking-Cassie glares up from her seat, alongside several others who stare at you as if you’ve grown another head. Truth be told, and unbeknownst to yourself, Jeongguk has never listened to anybody like he does for you. You have no idea how insane it is to see Jeon Jeongguk following the orders of a girl nobody knows, and honestly, you don’t care. Feeling Jeongguk’s hand slide into yours and the other occasionally reaching to fondle the back of your leg as he searches for you in dark is enough, it’s the only thing you care about.
You don’t really know where you’re going; behind you, Jeongguk is mumbling the way to his bedroom, which appears to be up the grand staircase and on the top floor, where he can pretend he’s above the world. Even with his directions, the path seems unpredictable, his torso occasionally bumping into you when you pause at corners. Eventually, Jeongguk notices where he is and conceals a yawn, his face contorted into sleepiness as he gently pulls you in the direction of his room, unsurprisingly at the end of the corridor, a master. Before he can open the door, Jeongguk yawns loudly, slumping against the doorframe and laughing slowly when you curve around him, reaching for the handle and forcing your way into the room.
Inside, it’s cold, the window propped open and a midnight colour hanging on the walls, silence. Jeongguk doesn’t turn on a light, and he doesn’t want you to either. He still holds onto your hand, or rather your fingers, and leads the way inside. His bedroom is like a hotel suite, a small lobby area of sorts when you walk in with three doors North, East and West, all leading to separate rooms including the main bedroom, bathroom and closet, all his for his own liking. He, of course, heads to the East, in the direction of his bed. It’s equally as cold in there but Jeongguk doesn’t care.
Under his breath, Jeongguk hums something unintelligent, waiting until he’s right by the side of his bed to twirl around. His arms find themselves back around you, lifting you off the ground which elicits a squeal of surprise and falls with a soft pat on top of the bed. Your pelvis is on his abdomen, your face on the bed next to his neck and he holds you tighter, engulfing your smell and warmth. Amongst the drugs and the childlike excitement, Jeongguk is an affectionate drunk around those who matter to him. His exhale of breath akin to a sigh tickles a breeze on your ear, and you struggle to pick your head up and look at his face; he meets you with a titter and puckers his lips, kissing you before you can decline. He grins triumphantly.
“Got it.”
“Mm, you did.”
He laughs again, the kind of laugh that sounds gravelly. He’s so drunk. “Got you.”
Humming, you entertain that thought, reaching your head to peck his jawline. Jeongguk sighs contently, about to move his hands from your waist to your thighs when you shuffle up and away, his brows furrowing with perplexion. “You’ve got me.”
Jeongguk’s head tilts. “Where are you going? Don’t leave.”
“I’m going to use the bathroom, and then I’ll be right back,” you promise him. Jeongguk pouts, emotionally clingy which is unusual, but flops back down onto the bed without vocal protect.
In the time it takes for you to rush to the bathroom, pee out of nervousness and nervously pet your hair and make it look absolutely no different, Jeongguk is knocked out asleep when you re-enter the room. His breaths are quiet, and heavy, his legs hanging off the side with his heels on the floor. The urge to sigh is unreal, but you know he must be tired, more tired than you are. Standing just before him on the bed, you’re uncertain of what to do first, but then you move to pull his feet out of his shoes, quietly tossing them to the side and then hauling his legs up onto the mattress. At some point during the night, he might shuffle- he does, slightly, when his body is on one level, and he sleepily worms his way to the side of the bed closest to the window, the right side, his side.
Half of your heart wants to leave. Maybe the way Jeongguk acted tonight was purely because of things he drank, things he lets into his body. But, subconsciously, you know better; the other half of you begs for you to stay. If Jeongguk changed his mind, it would be one walk out of the door and out of his life, easy and simple.
Instead of thinking about that, you gently toss your jacket to the floor and kick off your own shoes, laying flat next to Jeongguk as he falls deeper into sleep. Even if he wakes up with cold feet tomorrow morning, at least he won’t be alone.
The next morning, it is raining. It doesn’t often rain, and so you can’t help but hear the heavy sound of rain outside the window, no thanks to yourself for forgetting to close it before climbing next to Jeongguk. Speaking of the man, he remains asleep, his head twisted on the pillow facing you with his body flat on his back, one leg up and the other spread out. He looks so peaceful, hopefully at peace with his dreams.
Without waking him up, you roll over off the bed and sink your feet to the floor, silently retreating to the bathroom with your phone in your hand. Surprised by the time, it reads eight fifty am, and you scroll down your notifications which seem to have multiplied unusually. Few are from Instagram but majority are texts, from Yoongi and Jimin, one from your Mom that reads a simple “happy bday” and nothing more.
[03:32AM]: Yoongi 👹: hope ur safe and ok
[03:41AM] Yoongi 👹: did u go home?
He sent those at three.
[08:50AM] You: shit sorry
[08:50AM] You: was sleeping
[08:51AM] You: im still with jeongguk, he passed out and i stayed so he wouldn’t wake up on his own
There is a short silence.
[08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: ok, be safe
[08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: jimin says good morning lol
Sitting on top of the closed toilet, you hurriedly reply to the flurry of messages and by the time you’ve finished, ten minutes have passed and it is now nine. Checking over yourself in the mirror and deciding that you could ultimately look a lot worse, you move back into the bedroom, overhearing loudness from the remaining people in the house who had an early start to the day.
Jeongguk stirs slightly, showing signs of being awake. Under his breath he groans, reluctant to confirm his consciousness by keeping his eyes closed, and you slowly reach to put your phone back on the bedside table and clamber on all fours onto the bed. With the weight dipped, Jeongguk huffs, peering open one eye and watching you crawl up to him, knees near his body and hands brushing the long hair out of his eyes.
“Morning, sleepy-head,” you coo, voice quiet because nine is still early.
Jeongguk groans, saying nothing. He shifts, ironing out the cramps in his limbs and sitting up, reaching a hand out for you, grabbing air like a child. Your gaze drops to the way his fingers roll expectantly and you slip your hand into his, taken aback when he tugs you over onto him, your legs over his hips as his arms steady around your waist.
Suddenly he’s very awake, moving your hair back and then kissing you, like he’s been starved of it. It begins gentle, timid, with his hands barely touching you as if he’s expecting you to move away and reject it. You don’t, however; when he pulls back you immediately move back in, twisting your arms around his neck, prompting him to follow by tightening his arms around your body, bringing you flush up against him, hips touching, sex throbbing. Jeongguk groans into your mouth, his hands guiding your body as you make shy movements, barely rolling up against him creating friction he wasn’t aware he needed so badly.
Jeongguk isn’t sure if what he’s doing is okay, and you don’t care. All that seems to matter is having you near him, as close as you can possibly be. Under your shirt, Jeongguk slides his hand up your back until it’s at the back of your neck, his left tight on your hip bone as the guider. He welcomes, no, encourages, your hips rocking against his slowly, teasingly, perfect momentum for the morning with the rain. It is both unnerving and exciting in how Jeongguk remains silent, save his occasional groans into your mouth.
Once Jeongguk has grown bored of kissing your mouth, satisfied with all he’s done, his mouth departs and moves to your jaw, peppering a line of wet kisses from the underside to your neck. His hands spring away and move to hastily unbutton your shirt, unpopping one at a time as you whimper, feeling the hardness buried in Jeongguk’s jeans begging to be free.
Jeongguk breathes heavily, desperately pulling the buttons undone and undressing your shirt from your body. At first, he barely notices the fact that your bra is missing until the shirt is down to your elbows, sexily like a shawl, and his eyes land on your hardened nipples. Jeongguk half laughs, touching his thumbs on the underside of your breasts.
“Just like that,” he mutters, and you pout through a whimper that brings his eyes up to your own.
“Shut up, there was no way I was sleeping with it on,” you reply, and he hums, it makes sense. Jeongguk doesn’t blame you- why would he? He’s a guy, he likes tits; he likes your tits, smallish and round, big enough for him to hold and fit in his mouth, which he does.
Raising his eyebrows, Jeongguk smirks and brings his mouth to your right tit, his mouth around your nipple and you moan sweetly, your hand raking through his messy bed-curls. Like taking a toothless bite out of a whip of ice cream, Jeongguk’s lips pull around it, his eyes flickering up to observe your expressions- one glance and he immediately feels overwhelmed, a pressure on his crotch, discomfort, the need to be free. His hips stutter and he ruts up against you, two clothed crotches rubbing together, stolen gasps in the morning ambience. Finished with his hands on your tits, Jeongguk fully removes your shirt, balling it up and throwing it across the room, where it lands pathetically on one of the knobs of his drawers.
In one movement, Jeongguk secures his arms around you and hikes himself up onto his feet, squatting and turning so you should fall on your back. Following, he pushes you down into the mattress, your head half on the pillow and this time, his legs on your hips, not an overpowering weight but enough to keep you pinned down. You writhe, your back arching up off the mattress as Jeongguk’s mouth trails down from your face, where he leaves a starting kiss on your lips, down your neck and between your breasts, encouraging the roll of your hips with his hands. Muttered incoherence is all he can hear as he shimmies down, his tongue on your skin, teasingly licking a stripe up across your crotch covered by uncomfortable jeans.
Jimin, that fucker, he’d been right. Skinny jeans truly were the least practical outfit.
Jeongguk straddles himself up, planting his body over you like one would during sex. Humming against your lips, Jeongguk’s teeth pull at your bottom lip, his left hand gripping your leg and positioning it around his waist, your legs parted and his crotch directly hitting yours with every grind. Jeongguk gives nothing away- he stares, unwaveringly and deadpan directly into your eyes, grunting at the faces you pull, the whimpers leaving your lips, your rutting underneath him.
He buckles unexpectedly, pounding you deep into the mattress with a high pitched moan, captured by his mouth as he squeezes your flesh around his hand, holding you to him like letting you go would result in him losing you entirely. Jeongguk’s torn between wanting to cry and scream; in his short, sad, twenty one years of living, he’s not sure he’s ever felt as desperate for another person before. Never craved somebody the way he craves you, never needed somebody the way he needs you. Jeongguk stares into your eyes, opia. For fucks sake- he likes you so much, needs you so much-
“Jeongguk, you up?”
Freeze frame. Namjoon steps into the room, his eyes widening with surprise when he comes through the East and spots your shoes and bra by the door, shirt hanging off the cupboard, and Jeongguk on top of you with his lips on your neck, hands on your waist, leg around his middle and crotch up against his. Over Jeongguk’s bicep, you stare at him, your eyes blown open, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to stop, or even care. Even when you grip on his bicep to let him know you’re not alone, Jeongguk looks up from your neck and spots Namjoon. A soft exhale leaves his lips and he grunts, unbothered.
“Yeah,” he replies bluntly, biting down on your neck and revelling in the tug he receives in his hair when he does so. Still, Namjoon stands by the door in awe, unsure of what to do or say. Jeongguk pulls away, his face still stuffed in your neck, “you need something, Namjoon?”
“I,” Namjoon says, gathering his thoughts. He clears his throat. “Sejin called...He said he’s going to be round at about eleven ish, so I was, um, coming to see if you wanted breakfast, or…” As he speaks, Jeongguk is selfish, still grinding against you like Namjoon’s not even there. He’s listening though, his ear free to hear as he sucks his mouth on your skin, practising sex against your jeans.
Naturally, Namjoon’s gaze wanders to your breasts when Jeongguk picks himself up slightly, grabbing one with his palm and kissing patterns across your sternum. He gulps, uncomfortable.
“Be down in a minute,” Jeongguk says, shrugs, not really a promise. Namjoon nods, flushing as you moan unexpectedly, your traitor pussy having a mind of its own, controlling the way you think. Namjoon about makes out an arch on the grey comforter and catches your gaze, half-lidded, and he turns away, he’s seen enough.
“Take your time,” Namjoon squeaks out, unsure of whether the flush is for his head or his dick but he’s not sticking around to find out, and hurries out the door and back into the house. Jeongguk’s facade doesn’t fall until he knows for certain that Namjoon has left, which means he waits until the sound of laughter resonates downstairs, meaning Namjoon’s said his piece to the rest of the band likely gathered somewhere, waiting for him.
Planting one final kiss to your breast, Jeongguk groans and picks himself up onto his hands, his torso still over the lower half of your body and his gaze on your chest. It doesn’t move for a moment, staring in silence until he suddenly starts laughing to himself. The tangled mess of hair bounces with his shoulders and his head drops for a few moments, and then he peers up at you with a smile and you can’t contain your own bubbling laughter, scandalised.
“I know I’m a day late,” he breathes, “but.” Jeongguk smiles softly, “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”
“Mmm. Thank you,” you preen. “Best birthday ever.”
This causes Jeongguk to guffaw, laughing under his breath. “Joon enjoyed it too.”
“You’re such a prick, you could have stopped,” you laugh to him, slamming his shoulders gently. Jeongguk grins, shuffling until his ass is on your stomach, straddling with his hands intertwined with yours.
“Yeah,” he agrees, because he could have. “Didn’t feel like it though. Plus, he said you were pretty once. ‘Mnot taking any chances with you.”
You gasp, astounded. “And what if I had thought he was pretty, too?”
“Then I’d cry,” Jeongguk replies simply, considering it a successful quip when you laugh sweetly, your cheek on your shoulder looking up at him like he was God’s angel. He blinks, like he’s processing the information, “thank you for staying. Look, if last night I was fucked up, it’s okay if you’re not cool with that. It can be a lot and I-”
“Jeongguk, I’ll always stay. If you need me, I’ll stay,” you tell him seriously. “I’m here for you, even when it’s difficult. I-” you pause, “I care about you.” It won’t be the last time Jeongguk feels like he has nothing to say to you, and honestly, it’s not the first time either.
Jeongguk looks down at you, his face devoid of a smile now that your words have settled in. When he realises what you’re saying, what that means for him.
“I’m sorry. I’m...a fucking shit show,” Jeongguk says quietly, and he barely moves when you instantly sit up, rising with your palms cupping his face, holding him gently and closely.
“Please don’t say sorry. I’m here, if you need me,” you say to him. “If you want me.”
“I do,” replies Jeongguk. He licks his lips, “of course I do.”
Warmth blossoms in your chest, and it would be easy to kick back, let him keep kissing, stay in the warmth of his bed covers. So suddenly, life feels like it can get better. So suddenly, it feels like everything is going to be okay.
(LOS ANGELES)
Things begin to change quite suddenly.
In the moment, you hardly realise how fast paced life is moving for you, too caught up in the moment, in the thrill of what has become of your life after the show at the Hollywood Palladium. For some reason, you didn’t expect to be an addition to Jeongguk’s life after the party, especially considering August Blue still had several other shows and cities to perform in, meaning the likelihood of seeing him decreased.
He had surprised you, though, by making a considerable effort to frequent DBOY whenever he could before he left for Jersey, alongside the rather spontaneous decision to take you for dinner after your shift, ending with a bang and a kiss and your mother peeking from behind a curtain inside the house when Jeongguk pulled up to drop you home instead of your own flat afterwards.
As far as you knew, nothing with Jeongguk had especially changed; judging off the lingering smell of nicotine and alcohol when he turned up to get you, and pictures of dark lights and white tables on his private accounts, which only made it harder to say goodbye to him.
There had been a change in pace between Jeongguk and yourself, an establishment of feelings discussed over that afternoon dinner looking out at the ocean. It had been unexpected and impulsive, you still dressed in your lackluster University outfit and Jeongguk in attire that he put on when he woke up in the morning, but everything seemed to feel right.
It hadn’t been much, nothing but him setting the record straight that he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he wanted to do it- if you would have it, he’d like to be in your life. There was the bump in the road that was his status, his tours and his unspoken struggle with white lines and drunken nights that could be troublesome. Could turn you off, could make you not want him. You laughed at that like it was the funniest and simultaneously the stupidest thing he’d ever said, and maybe it was.
Across the room, Jimin kicks his feet up onto the coffee table despite countless efforts to get him to stop. Now that the late birthday weekend spent with your family had come to a happy end, you were once again welcomed in your shared flat with Jimin; it’s a measly apartment close to campus with an expensive empty third room that you both use as art storage. Next to him on the couch is the greasy pizza box, his fingers pulling a slice off the cardboard. You stand behind the couch, looking at the back of his head, and then look back at your phone. As always, there’s nothing, no notifications besides an Icloud storage backup failure. You sigh, having expected it.
Jimin looks up when the couch dips in weight as you sit next to him, moving the pizza box to his lap rather than your spot. He has the nerve to appear offended, still shoving a slice in his mouth.
“I’ve picked the movie,” he starts.
“Swear on God, if you’ve picked Orphan again, I’m going to beat your ass.”
“It’s the best horror movie to date, come on!” Jimin argues, making zero effort to change the movie once it’s already started. People who didn’t know Jimin would take a look at him and anticipate him to be an angel, questioning why you would ever be annoyed by such a cute face. This- this is why.
Regardless, all you give Jimin is an eye-roll and decide to quietly accept the fact that your movie night has, once again, become an ode to Orphan. It’s not a problem- if a movie could define and represent a friendship, Orphan could summarize your relationship with Jimin.
The movie plays as far as Esther pushing her sister into the road when disturbance arises. Jimin is the first to stir, hearing the front door to your apartment crack open and a sheepish Yoongi steps inside, a bag of takeout in his left hand and keys in the right. He is, of course, late as always, and you expect he won’t hear the end of it by the time he’s wedged himself into the room; rightly so, Jimin interrogates him on being late as the front door closes, and right as the sound of arguing fills the room a blaring ring from your phone picks up.
It’s sad to admit that you pick up your phone in lightning speed, peering in the light as Jeongguk’s contact fills the screen. The way seeing his name light up on the screen feels like an urgent release, like finding treasure after searching for so long- you haul yourself up off the couch and head back towards the kitchen as the couple shuffle in. Glancing at them as they collapse in laughter to the couch, you smile and answer the call from Jeongguk that never stops ringing.
“Jeongguk,” you say, once you’ve picked up and heard nothing but murmured party ambience over the line. Something crackles, like the movement of clothes, and Jeongguk hums like he’s in a trance. “Can you hear me?”
“Hi baby,” his voice calls. He laughs, lucid, “Y/N, baby. Hi baby.”
“Hi,” you coo in reply. “Where are you, I can barely hear you…?”
“Party!” laughs Jeongguk. “Wrap up party. ‘so funny, you should come.”
A smile ignites. “I can’t, I’m not in that state. Are you having fun? What are you doing?”
For a moment, Jeongguk doesn’t reply. From the sounds of it, he seems otherwise occupied, for in the background the quiet sound of party laughter and glass clinking reminds you of where he is, what he’s doing, what he’ll end up doing. You swallow thickly.
“It’s okay,” Jeongguk says after some time. “Kinda fun.” He waits one second and then says, “can’t hear you. I’m gonna go outside, don’t hang up.”
“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jeongguk moves outside, the party tucked behind as he leans against the brickwork of the rented bar used for the party. There’s a payphone on the wall, dripped in neon lights and he stands next to it, his body chilled by the night, leather on his skin.
“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, sniffing. That’s the indicator. Something inside of you sinks thinking about what he’s done, how sad it is that he does it to himself and nobody bats an eye.
You throw a glance back across the room; Jimin is settled in Yoongi’s lap, bringing soft laughter out of your cousin as the still frame of Orphan burns the television screen. “It’s movie night, so Jimin and Yoongi came over.”
“Mm yeah?” Jeongguk says. “Fun, sounds so fun, Yoongi said you lived with Jimin.”
“I do,” you reply gently. “When do you come home?”
“Saturday, maybe,” Jeongguk estimates. “Then I’m gonna come see you. Wanna take you out again, can we go out somewhere, I wanna go out.”
You laugh, tucking yourself into the kitchen when Yoongi and Jimin start laughing too loudly. “Course. Just let me know when, I’ll make room for you.”
For a while, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything interesting. In fact, it’s mostly a string of incoherent and confusing sentences, his pout audible as he speaks and at least he’s not making bad decisions, half the reason you haven’t told him to go back to the party. Maybe you’re in it too deep, maybe you have no right being worried about him like that. If his band members didn’t seem to be too worried, and they’ve clearly known him longer, then why should you be so concerned?
“Called you for a reason, you know,” Jeongguk says, after a short breath of silence.
You raise your eyebrows and lean against the doorframe, pulling at your bottom lip with your teeth after asking him why.
Jeongguk sniffs and then drops a deep exhale of breath. “Missed you.” Your heart thuds painfully. “Miss you, miss your voice. You should have come.”
“Maybe next time,” you offer. You’re unsure if telling him that you didn’t come because you don’t know what you are to him is wise at this exact moment, and so you decline to offer him a reason. Not that he asks. “I miss you too. I miss you coming to see me at work, made my day.”
Jeongguk laughs to himself. “I miss it. Coming home on Saturday, can I see you then?”
You pause to think. “Ah...it’s Yoojung’s birthday.” Yoojung is Yoongi’s sister, which Jeongguk remarkably remembers. He frowns, questioning. “There’s a party at her house, I’m obviously going because I’m family.”
“Yoo is a fan of the band, I think,” Jeongguk says. “Maybe I’ll ask Yoonie if I can come, surprise her or something. Wanna see you.”
“You can’t wait an extra day? I think I’m free all day on Sunday,” you offer, but Jeongguk declines.
“Nah. Greedy.”
He sniffs once, curtly and quickly, like inhaling sandpaper. You repress a sigh, not wanting to give away anything that might upset him, and you tuck further into the kitchen to escape the noise of the couple on the couch. It rises in volume, Jimin’s tone calling for you which Jeongguk can surely hear, but clearly cares little for.
“Fair enough,” you reply, smiling. “Are you going to go back in and party?”
For a second, Jeongguk says nothing. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongguk leans against the damp bricks with his chin tucked to his collarbones, gaze hazy and a smile on his lips. The air is cool enough to straighten his head, at least clear his vision from speckles to something clean.
“Just like talking to you,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, I don’t know if I wanna party anymore.”
“Then don’t, baby, it’s okay,” you tell him, trying to avoid eavesdroppers in the living room. “Find Seokjin and leave for the night, hm? Have some rest and then we can see each other when you get back for Saturday, m’kay?”
Jeongguk says nothing, listening in the background to Yoongi and Jimin as they heckle you into living room to finish the movie. He wants to say something, more than anything he has words on his mind, sentences on the tip of his tongue; he doesn’t. His head isn’t clear enough for him to trust himself to speak. So, instead, he takes an inhale of the outside air and glances around at his surroundings, observing the moonlight on the lake nearby and the dark green ferns around the car park.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna go to bed,” he decides to say.
“That’s good. Just let me know when you’re home safe, okay?” you tell him, silencing the duo with a finger to your lips and the couple on the couch suppress giggles of amusement. To them it’s funny. “Okay?”
“Yep. I’ll text,” Jeongguk promises. From behind him, the door to the club opens and you can faintly hear a voice calling him. It’s out of your hands but you hope that it’s Seokjin, or another member of the band. “Miss you.”
You smile, “I miss you too. Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you on Saturday.”
Jeongguk hums. His voice is gone in the wind, too small to speak out.
(HIDDEN HILLS)
“And, you know, don’t get me wrong- I love parties as much as the next person, believe me, but if you can’t have an Iron Man balloon just because your parents are too damn lazy to go across town to Party City to get me one, then is it really a good party?”
Min Yoojung takes a sip from her glass and practically shrivels with distaste. For some or known reason, she had assumed that when you turned eighteen, life would dramatically change and you’d suddenly enjoy the taste of alcohol. Or, at least, that’s what UK TV shows had told her- mind you, she now knows that’s entirely inaccurate.
“I mean, think about it,” she continues with a huff. “Yoongi gets his own private club hired out for his birthday with the members of KISS playing on stage, and I can’t even get a balloon?”
Yoongi sits directly across from her on the patio sofas, a cigarette between his two fingers and a glass of red wine on the small table. He hides a smirk, feigning absolute disinterest as his sister speaks, waiting until she’s finished and looking between yourself and Jimin for some sort of explanation before he speaks.
“It’s because you’re adopted,” he replies smoothly, which only sets her off more.
To some extent, what she is saying is not flawed. For Yoongi’s eighteenth birthday, he had gotten everything he wanted, things he brought up in passing wrapped up and gifted to him on the morn of March 9th. And, Yoojung is walking proof that the myth of the baby sibling being the favourite is simply not true. Granted, Yoongi’s only the favourite because he’s semi-famous, whereas Yoojung still attends public school and dines in three star restaurants with allowance money she may as well not have. That’s not to say that her birthday sucks; it doesn’t, because the Min’s have money and standards and this party in the backyard might make a headline in some Indie magazine online. Who knows.
It’s leisurely and small, with only few celebrities in attendance not including the Min’s and their relatives. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the life of stardom- unfortunately, being the step-daughter of Axel Choi therefore meant having a camera in your face once or twice. Even though Axel was no relative of yours, and by no means did he ever have the audacity to assume he could fill the role of your Dad: Axel was an okay guy, protective of his family and by extension, protective of you. You didn’t mind, just one less camera to hide from, one less ugly photograph uploaded online for a bit of money.
That being said, Axel pulled a few strings and got a few A-Listers to show up, including a KPOP group that Yoojung had liked when she felt like an alien in her own country. Amongst those are some of Yoojung’s friends, who fear sitting near Yoongi because he’s the hot older brother type, and fearful of you who they don’t know, which isn’t any less scary from them knowing you.
“You haven’t done the cake yet, right?”
From behind Yoongi, out comes Wheein, one of his old friends from University. She carefully climbs over the seat to sit next to Jimin, mindful of her glass that sloshes and Yoojung sighs, pressing her chin into the heel of her hand.
“Nope. Yoongi says people haven’t turned up yet, so I don’t know what’s up with that,” Yoojung shrugs. “Honestly-” now she rises slightly, her back straight and finger pointed accusingly, “you fucking planned my whole party. Is this the Yoongi and Co show, or what?”
“Yes,” Yoongi replies, as though it were obvious. He drinks. “Stop complaining and wait, it’ll be worth it.”
Yoojung scoffs, “Yeah right. If Tony Stark doesn’t come to this house dressed in his suit making that suity noise, then consider this birthday over.”
Yoongi pauses. “Okay then, I guess I’ll start sending people back home, because you can’t even get an Iron Man balloon, what makes you think he’s gonna pop round in person?”
Yoojung shrugs, “Poetic cinema?”
“Keep dreaming, cabbage patch baby.”
“Cabbage patch baby?” Jimin laughs. That’s when Yoongi ignores Yoojung’s frustrated groans and launches into an explanation behind the name, which involves Yoongi telling Yoojung when she was little that their Mom found her in a cabbage patch. You’ve heard it before, so you’re not listening when it’s explained. Your gaze instead lifts across the patio, awkwardly catching your mother’s as she looks around for you.
Her eyes light up when she spots you and immediately she waves you over, not taking no for an answer as those round holes turn into slits faster than you can even mouth the syllable “n”. While Yoongi dives deeper into Yoojung’s misery, you pick yourself up with a sigh and head on over towards your mother.
She stands next to Axel, as well as Yoongi’s parents, and two celebrities you vaguely remember for being present at Yoongi’s birthday many moons ago. You fake a smile, wanting to be polite, wanting it to be over. It seems your arrival had been pre-planned and expected, for your aunt turns to you with wide eyes and brings you by the elbow.
“Y/N. We were just talking about you- you know Maxine, don’t you?”
No. You regard the stranger, subtly looking them up and down and smiling tightly. “Of course! It’s so nice to see you.”
“We were just talking about the arts- classical, of course, because we all know how you turn up your nose at the modern artists of today,” your Aunt says.
“Well, I do like modern art, I just find classicals more interesting to study. More composition, colour, texture...more empathy.”
“Whatever,” your Aunt interrupts. “Maxine has a son who works in the Louvre. He’s looking for junior guides, people to talk arty to visitors and make everything sound nice.”
Maxine smiles to intervene. “Actually, he’s not high enough in the business to request people, but I do know that he’s got an eye for women who like the arts. Miyoung told me that you study it at University level.”
You nod, bored. “Yes, I do. I’m not sure I want to move to Paris for a job, though...so…”
“Oh, no,” Maxine laughs. As she does this, one of Yoongi’s other friends, Jaehyung, creeps up behind you and quietly says hello to your mother and to Axel, half listening when Maxine says, “Duke is actually on pursuit for somebody who can match his artistic background.”
This, of course, makes Jaehyung laugh suddenly. He takes a slice of cake off a nearby tray and takes a bite, moving to walk away as he says, “Y/N doesn’t need help in the dating department, I don’t think.”
You glare at him.
“What does that mean?” your mother asks. “Do you have somebody?”
“No, Mom. Nobody.”
“Sure she does,” Jaehyung winks. “Was all over Instagram.”
“That’s a lie,” you gape.
“Is it?” he shrugs. Is it?
Aunt Miyoung gasps like she’s heard an offensive secret, touching her collarbone as she looks between Jaehyung and yourself. Jaehyung grins, saying nothing and running back to Yoongi before you can slander him. You’re in for it now.
“The boy that dropped you home?” your mother presses.
“You knew about this?” Miyoung asks. “Maxine, I am deeply sorry- I feel foolish.”
“I-Yes,” you tell her finally. Jeongguk, the man in question, might not be what everybody now thinks he is, might not even be what you think he is. “It hasn’t been long, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
“And he’s famous?” Axel asks.
You look at him. “Yeah. I guess. You wouldn’t believe he was, but he is.”
Axel raises his eyebrows, by now not in the least surprised by the bitterness in your tone that has been there since your mother first introduced him. He’d probably be more surprised if you didn’t talk to him like that. Regardless, Axel takes it with acquiesce, glancing at your mother for some sort of guidance that she can’t and won’t give to him. It is in this moment that the back gate that leads to a leaky trail next to the spacious garage and past Holly’s doghouse opens, like arms inviting a hug.
The gate needs oiling, screeching to gain attention as it opens and in steps pairs of booted feet. The selection of pauses, gasps and an excited murmur from Yoojung’s friendship group out over by the poolside paints the picture for you, and you don’t feel the need to turn around. Noise alone confirms that the person who opened the gate is the same man in topic of conversation, his eyes dancing around the yard until they land on Yoongi’s father, acknowledgingly and then finally onto Yoojung, who he happens to notice quickly than he does the back of your head.
“Speak of the devil,” your mother starts, recognising him.
Axel hesitates visibly and audibly. “That man. That’s him?”
You purse your lips, taking a peek over your shoulder at Jeongguk. He speaks for himself; his muscles cling underneath a white tee and leather jacket that feels overdressed, paired with faded black jeans decorated with gashes and two zips. Axel only frowns because he’s not dressed like a prep, or a future Doctor like he would have liked for you, hypocrisy. Not even dressed ‘normal’ like boys he sees on the covers of magazines belonging to your step-sister, his own blood, his actual daughter. Jeongguk is dressed for attention, his gaze high over his glasses that you’re unaware he owned.
“It might be,” you reply quietly, and it’s telling enough that Axel sighs, folding his arms.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Miyoung says quickly. “You should have just told us it was Jeongguk.”
“You know him?” asks Axel.
Miyoung nods, sipping her wine. “Sure. He’s been friends with Yoongi for a few years now- we actually cleared him to visit for Yoo’s birthday.” Finally she acknowledges you: “Handsome boy, Y/N. How did you find him? Yoongi?”
“More like he found me,” you muse. “I tried to remain professional, but he kept coming back to visit me at work.”
“Romantic,” your mother sighs honestly.
Yoongi’s father laughs. “Jeongguk has a type.”
You stare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “The last time he had a girl on his arm he bed her and got rid of her. Funny, actually, you two had the same hair.”
“Hair isn’t a type,” Miyoung snaps.
“I’m just saying,” he continues, shrugging again. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey.”
“So, he’s a player?” Axel grunts.
“No,” you defend quickly. “No. Well- yes, he was. People change when they’ve found the right person to change for.”
Axel chuckles wryly. “And you think you’re the one to change him?”
“Not change him, but I’ll be there for him whenever he needs me,” you nod. “I trust him.”
“I can feel my ears burning.”
Jeongguk’s voice creeps over your shoulder before you can even notice that he has made his way over towards you; the feeling of his chin rested just above your ear makes your body pause and he wraps one arm around you, observing everybody in the huddle. The Min’s consider Jeongguk secondary family, welcoming him with a smile that Axel doesn’t reciprocate, not that Jeongguk gives a shit. For Jeongguk, this is monumentous, the time for him to prove himself to the guy who didn’t believe in him.
Actually, he’s surprised to find that the feeling of worship he felt for Axel as a teenager is still there, now that he’s standing right in front of him. It’s strange, subdued and numbing, but still there and pressing. Jeongguk tries to look anywhere but at Axel, but he can’t help it. Axel doesn’t even remember him, and has the audacity to stare at Jeongguk like it’s his first time, first impression of the guy dating one of his daughters.
Jeongguk pauses his thoughts and thinks back to you- are you dating? Wouldn’t hurt to lie, just to piss of Axel even more. Jeongguk wasn’t an exceptionally smart guy but he wasn’t stupid; it was evident that Axel didn’t like him, obvious from the ugly grimace on his face. He doesn’t care- Jeongguk relishes in his dislike. That gives him power, now.
“Jeongguk,” says Miyoung, smiling wide.
Beside her, your Uncle sips his drink, silent and occasionally glancing between Jeongguk and Axel. Maybe everybody disliked Axel, Jeongguk thinks to himself, as he stares at the pulled crease between your Uncle’s eyebrows. He knows vaguely that you’re related to the Min’s through your mother, and that they, unlike your mother, never got over the death of your Dad. Maybe they too can’t stand the sight of Axel, bragging and sour-faced, acting like a member of the family when in reality, all he is is an imposter, a wolf in sheeps’ clothing, awkward and looking misplaced.
Jeongguk smiles back at Miyoung. “Hi, it’s good to see you. Thanks for having me.”
“Our pleasure,” Miyoung replies. “You’re a punk, y’know- dating our Y/N. None of us had any clue! Why hide such a beauty?”
Jeongguk grins. His arm wrapped around you tightens gently. “Sorry. We didn’t want to rush into making anything public…” He trails off, looking at you. “Get nervous and tell people?”
“Actually, you have Jaehyung to thank for that,” your mother pipes up with a sigh. For the first time, Jeongguk looks at her entirely. She looks nothing like you, too done up with surgery and makeup for him to see a resemblance. Maybe you looked like her before, maybe you favoured your Dad. “I’m Jennifer, Jenny, by the way. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Jeongguk smiles constantly, accepting her tight hug as she welcomes him. “Jeongguk.”
“Y/N doesn’t talk about you,” she says.
“In fairness, I don’t talk about anything,” you add, but she’s not listening. Jeongguk is, though, and his heart tugs. He’s got the situation kind of figured out.
“I don’t blame her,” Jeongguk replies smoothly. “We weren’t sure it was time to make things official- it’s new.”
“And it’s serious?” Axel asks, speaking for the first time.
Jeongguk watches him. “Yes, sir.”
Axel bristles. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Axel, I’m Y/N’s father.”
“Step father,” you cut in.
“Father,” he repeats. Axel extends a hand outwards for Jeongguk to shake. Even though he hesitates, Jeongguk accepts, firmly shaking it. It’s a good handshake, Axel ought to be impressed. What doesn’t sit right is Axel calling himself your father- something he’s never been given the right to say.
“We actually have met before,” Jeongguk says, and around his arm he feels you tighten, briefly glancing up at him.
All eyes in the huddle are on Axel, including the long forgotten Maxine who watches quietly. “Did we? I don’t remember you.”
“Well, it was a long time ago,” Jeongguk explains with a flat tone. “We were in Busan. You came into my work and bought some cigarettes, I had your opinion on some of my work.”
While Axel thinks about it, your mother gasps happily, clueless and embracing her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Honey, it’s great that you helped this young man.”
Unknowingly, the Min’s writhe on their spots. They know this story. They know the truth- maybe that’s why they dislike Axel the way everybody else does.
“Did I?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk continues, with the same flat tone that makes you shudder. “Yeah. You told me our music was shit and that I’d never make it in the business because I was a Korean boy from Busan with dreams I couldn’t reach. You told me we’d never succeed and that we’d be stuck in Busan flipping burgers and working night shifts at 7-11, and that the only way I’d succeed was if I was American. Dunno if you remember that, but I did.”
Nobody says anything. Not even Axel, who stares coldly.
“Well, we made it,” Jeongguk laughs quietly. “I took your advice and it really helped motivate me to prove you wrong. We’re number one on Billboard and we’re making history as the first all Korean band to top the charts and headline The Governors Ball next year. Not bad for a basement boy from Busan, right?”
Your mother gulps. “That’s really wonderful, Jeongguk, you should be really proud.”
Jeongguk pities her. “Thank-you. We worked hard for it. Now we’re here.”
“And I suppose it will do Y/N some good, being with somebody so successful.” For the first time since Jeongguk’s arrival, Maxine speaks up. She cradles her champagne glass tenderly and examines Jeongguk with her slinted fox-like eyes, as if nursing a different agenda.
“Thank you,” repeats Jeongguk. He tightens his arm around you, obviously enough to create a statement. While it’s mostly to prove to everybody- and himself- that you and him are an item, it’s also to rub extra salt into Axel’s wounds, his face like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Y/N helps keep me driven a lot. I owe her so much already, I’ll make her happy and do her proud. Thanks to Y/N, I don’t think I could be here. I’m here because she suggested it, actually, for Yoojungie.”
“And a good job, too,” Miyoung finally says, trying to avert the tensions. “Else Yoojung would be miserable at her own birthday party.” And everyone laughs, apart from Axel, not that anybody cares. “Jeongguk, shall we start the music up?”
Jeongguk nods. “I’d love to. Thanks, Mom.”
She smiles, walking away to prep. Feeling Axel’s stare cold on your skin, you gently push yourself into Jeongguk, until he’s walking backwards towards the selection of trees where you turn in his arms, looking up at him. Jeongguk smiles honestly for the first time, his heart thumping.
“Hi,” he says gently.
“Well, you know how to make an entrance,” you note thoughtfully. Jeongguk’s eyes rake your own, wordless. “Be careful how you act around Axel. He’s strangely protective.”
“I thought he wasn’t family.”
You frown. “He’s not. But he’s still… you know. Part of the family.”
Jeongguk says nothing at first. “I get it. I do,” he assures with a nod. The next moment, he has his hands on your upper-arms, smoothing. “It’s good to see you, by the way. You look beautiful.”
A smile crosses your face. “It’s good to see you, too. Missed you.”
“I missed you too, we just got off the plane this morning,” Jeongguk explains. Took a nap on the way home and then got dressed and we came straight here.” He pauses playfully: “Do I look okay?”
You laugh girlishly, catching his elbows with your fingers. “You look great. Who knew you wore glasses?”
Jeongguk grins. “They’re fake, I’m a fraud.”
“Of course,” you joke. “Like all rockstars.”
“Hey, don’t bring in my fellow rockers!” Jeongguk laughs too, an unusual sound. “As much as I wanna stand around and stare at you, I need to go and say hi to Yoojung and perform and stuff. It’s kinda why I’m here…”
“LOL,” you say. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Guk. Go, I’ll survive.”
“Okay,” he resists. “But I’ll come back later, yeah? Can’t ignore my girlfriend.” Jeongguk raises his eyebrows mischievously and then, rustles in his pocket whilst speaking, “Oh, wait. Happy-” he checks the time and shows his phone screen to you as he steps backwards, “-ten minute anniversary, babe.”
As Jeongguk steps away, dragging his fingertips along your palms as he steps backwards towards the curved pathway around the pool, a warm feeling simmers in your stomach. Maybe it’s the sunlight shining gold across his skin or the way his smile finally reaches his nostrils, extending wide, his eyes folded into moons- but something about the whole ordeal seems safe, seems gorgeous and heavenly, at the same time domestic. He winks, turns and heads towards the rest of August Blue sheltered around Yoojung and Yoongi, and you’re left with the imprinted image of Jeongguk’s smile on the spot of grass he just stood on, burning, refusing to leave.
[23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: so i don’t think ur family like me….
[23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: am i out of the picture now?
The sound of your phone fills the room and pulls you out of the bathroom, which connects to your family bedroom back in the house your family live at currently. Yoojung’s party had ended hours earlier, the grand finale with Jeongguk helping bring out her cake, fireworks on the evening, a hand on your waist.
Rubbing at your wet hair, you sit on the bed and reach for your phone, glossing over the messages, smiling.
[23:40PM] You: hey now
[23:40PM] You: i don’t think my family like me either
[23:41PM] Jeongguk❣️: wanna run away and be my family?
[23:42PM] Y/N: where are we running to?
[23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: idk yet
[23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: somewhere nice
[23:43PM] Jeongguk❣️: far away
[23:43] You: omg yes
[23:44PM] You: kinda wanting to go to hawaii...what are your thoughts on hawaii, gukkie?
[23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: hawaii on a first date? imagine that…..
[23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: u DO dream big
[23:45PM] You: i tried
[23:46PM] Jeongguk❣️: it’s not exactly hawaii
[23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: but how about a late night rendezvous at olive garden
(At the same time…)
[23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: omg … as if i just spelt that word right
[23:47PM] You: autocorrect, u cant fool me
[23:47PM] You: and omg sure…..,,,,,,
[23:48PM] You: something tells me ur already here and thats why you’re asking
(A honk outside your window.)
[23:49PM] Jeongguk❣️: 🤪
[23:49PM] You: my hairs wet 🥺
[23:50PM] Jeongguk❣️: i’ll roll down the windows?
(A sigh.)
[23:50PM] You: pls give me five minutes
Jeongguk had been parked up outside, his car hidden half in the shadows by a flickering streetlight, inconspicuous and with the inside lights on. It had taken all but three minutes to find his car, and another three for you to warm up to talking to him inside the car. Slipping into the passenger seat with the sound of Magnetic Moon on the AUX and the shining smile from Jeongguk had been nerve-wracking, perhaps nerve-wracking is even an understatement. Nonetheless, the song had rolled to an end and just before Tiffany could transition into the smooth vocals of Lana, Jeongguk said his first few words beyond “hi”.
Olive Garden was a few miles away from your neighbourhood- small and pushed to the side with a selection of palm trees scattered outside, like a postcard for Malibu. Like most, if not all American’s, you’ve been here before, already have a go-to on the menu. Jeongguk drives into a parking bay near the shrubs and opens the doors for you, pulls out chairs, goes the extra mile ordering wine in advance in a private section of the restaurant that you didn’t know existed. You’ve only ever been here with Yoongi and Yoojung, two celebrities who sometimes have the luxury of leaving the house and not getting immediately noticed.
“What do you wanna do after?”
Jeongguk, halfway through cutting his sirloin steak, glances up with an honestly surprised expression. “You still want to hang out after?”
You shrug, taking a sip of the wine. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because our first date since I got back from tour is at fucking Olive Garden,” Jeongguk states.
“I like Olive Garden…” you mumble, which he hears.
After swallowing a large mouthful, he sends it down with a gulp of wine. “Well, I’m not gonna complain. Shall we go for a drive? You ever been to the beach at night?”
“I live in LA, who hasn’t been to the beach at night?”
“Okay, true,” he replies. “I used to do it all the time in Busan, too. Lived right across the road, could see the sands from my front porch.”
Once dinner is over, and once Jeongguk has quite finished coercing you into sharing an ice-cream sundae with him, Jeongguk takes you up on the invitation to drive to the beach, the night sky like looking into the eyeball of a stuffed animal, the stars like specks of dust on an Afterlight edit. The boulevard is lit up by circular bulbs, tiny attractions for moths, bright like close up stars. Jeongguk drives smoothly, the window slightly down and occasionally his eyes glanced over at you; your hair is messed in the wind, the sound of Kim Petra on the AUX sending your body into little bops, something Jeongguk wants to remember for the rest of his life.
“So much for letting my hair dry.”
Jeongguk laughs from the back of the car, closing the boot and bringing out some spare towels to hand over to you. They’re yellow, like fresh little buttercups, and slightly wrinkled, smelling like faint juice and sea-salt. Regardless, you take the towel off him and begin to quickly rub it against your hair, once again trying to even out the wetness, less than the shower back home, enough to still drip on your arms and legs.
“You splashed me first,” Jeongguk replies, standing outside the door whereas you sit with your legs hanging out, sideways on the backseat. Behind him is the beach, dark and the sound of the ocean lapping like television static, the faint sound of the amusement arcade down the prom. His body is wet too, the ankles of his jeans clinging to his skin with ocean water.
You turn your head to him, smiling. “Guilty.” When he laughs, you continue to speak and bring the towel back down to your lap, “Okay, it’s what they all do in the movies. What else are you supposed to do on a beach at like...midnight. Wait, what time is it?”
“I dunno, like, three?” he guesses.
“No way.”
“Feels like three. Check the front.”
You lean over to check. “It’s definitely not three.”
Jeongguk shrugs boyishly, that same grin creating dimples near his chin. “Not far off. It was a guess.”
“Good for a guess,” you assure. Jeongguk wrangles the towel from your hands politely, wringing it out and throwing it back into the boot. Your hair can dry again in the wind when Jeongguk drives away, the same way it did when he picked you up. He has this theory on his mind as he walks back around to the open door, although the words leave him when he returns, having found that he has nothing at all to say now it’s come down to it.
Jeongguk moves back in, his body shoved between your legs slightly as he moves closer. You gaze up at him, the light behind him making his body glow dark, sighs like whispers in the quiet ambience.
“I really had a lot of fun tonight,” Jeongguk says, like it’s a secret. “Even though this morning your family almost had a heart attack discovering that we were, well, whatever we are...I still had fun.”
You hum in agreement, watching his face as it moves into the light. “Yoojung had the best time. I haven’t seen her that happy since she met Paul Rudd at Disneyland, and that’s seriously impressive.”
Jeongguk laughs quietly. “Paul Rudd.” He almost can’t believe that.
“As for us,” you continue, stress on the ‘us’ which brings Jeongguk’s attention full circle and back entirely onto you in the backseat of his ride, “well...what are we?”
For a few moments, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. “I have the fantasy and the reality.”
You nod, encouraging, and so he continues. “The fantasy is that we give it a go. We try it, really try. Y/N, with every small inch of my delicate, precious body-” (giggles are delivered by you as he speaks)- “I absolutely adore you. And I never knew I could feel like how I feel with you. I only ever wanted the sex, and even then, I didn’t want it that badly, and then you wandered into my life and everything feels so...so...I don’t even know a word. I just know it feels amazing when I’m with you- I feel amazing. And, of course, the reality is that we’re two sad early twenties rich kids who are pining and don’t know what to do about it.”
And it’s true, it’s so true. The sad reality of it all was that unless either one of you stepped up first, this dynamic of uncertainty would continue on as the norm. Where you were too shy to be bold and make a move, Jeongguk felt too insecure to step up.
“Well, then…” you start, chewing the inside of your cheek, thinking. “How about we try making the fantasy our reality?”
Nothing.
Jeongguk blinks and cocks his head in bewilderment. “Really?” You nod. “You want to?”
“If I didn’t want to, why the hell would I leave my house with wet hair to go eat at Olive Garden and lovingly stroll on a beach at midnight?”
Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, so it was loving?”
“I was definitely feeling some kind of way,” you confirm.
At long last, Jeongguk smiles wide, shuffling closer. His hands wrap around your face gently, like holding a delicate bird in two palms, and his fingers brush against your ears, tickling the skin, nails fingering your hair.
“That’s good to hear,” he replies, “Great, actually.”
“Yeah?”
Now, Jeongguk hums, his trademark reply for when his eyes are too lost for words to be conjured up to describe how he feels about what he sees. He is, what one might recall to be as “lost for words”. His teeth clip at his bottom lip as he questions what he’ll do next, and for a brief moment you catch his tongue darting out in nervousness as he leans closer, smell of mint on his breath as his lips touch yours, and the heavens open.
Metaphorically and literally, so. As Jeongguk brings you closer to him, his lips still pressed on yours, his heart elevates into subspace, his body light and euphoric. At the same time, the sky grumbles, hungry, and it begins to pour, tiny droplets on the roof of the car and on Jeongguk’s back. He winces, doesn’t pull away, and quickly separates himself from you to squint at the sky.
He sees nothing, because it’s way too dark, but he feels it. Sighing briefly, Jeongguk turns back to you and nods his head upwards, miming for you to shuffle backwards into the car. A rush of something hot creeps down the middle of your body as you do so, feeling Jeongguk’s hand on your calf as he climbs in after you, his ankle caught on the door bringing it to a close, but not fully. The red alarm light is bright and begging for attention but Jeongguk pays it no mind.
Instead, he crawls back to you, eager to pick up what he left. It’s welcomed, warm and inviting, as Jeongguk holds you back closer to him and returns the kiss, hot and open mouthed. Something clicks inside of you, a moment of realisation as Jeongguk sets himself over you, his thighs like a cage and his hair tickling your eyebrows. When this feeling simmers, you grin, something Jeongguk is only mildly surprised about. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t really need to.
In fact, Jeongguk doesn’t really say anything at all; he doesn’t need to, and he actually can’t, given the volume of the rain now it comes down heavier. It’s so loud, almost deafening, which you almost thank out loud for. The rain at least covers up your breathy moans as Jeongguk’s hands wander, pulling at the bottom of your dress and fisting it into a ball, the fabric rising higher.
When Jeongguk finally pulls himself away, it is selfish. He pulls back and sits down, in the middle seat so there’s a window view from every angle, his feet in either footwell. Jeongguk shakes his head and hair out of the way, his hands making their way back to you to bring you up and over into his lap. This time, Jeongguk accepts a kiss from you, his cheeks cupped almost by your hands which gives his hands free reign to smooth across your body, swiftly lifting the bottom half of your dress up, wrapping it like a belt across your hips. If the rain were silent, he’d like to have heard you, heard the way you whimper as the bulk in Jeongguk’s jogging bottoms brushes against your pussy, the fabric of your underwear making it hypersensitive and ten times more exciting.
Jeongguk’s lips widen, his mouth open and inviting for you, accepting tongue when you bring your lips back to his after a short break. His eyes flutter and roll backwards, the tickle of your breath through your nose on his skin as he holds you closer, as if you can get any closer than what you already are. Then, when you quite suddenly bite down onto Jeongguk’s tongue and lips, he groans, pleasured, his hands moving beneath your skirt to grab your ass, lifting you up and down on his very attentive boner.
If Jeongguk or yourself ever thought that the first time you’d have sex would be near the public beach in the back of his car in the middle of a very thunderous rainstorm, you might have laughed, or said there would be more to it. In actual fact, it’s just how it is- Jeongguk shimmies himself out of his bottoms soon enough, reaching into the back side of the car to pull out a condom, since he always has some in case of emergencies, like most guys do. He’d like to not use one, but he knows it’s not safe- he doesn’t know if he’s got something, or if you’ve got something. Either way, he rolls it onto his dick in a record speed and sinks you down onto him all within the same ten seconds, and, yeah- it’s not what he expected to happen, it’s not what anybody expects to happen, but it feels right, feels great. When he’s fucking somebody as good and as lovely as you, he’s not allowed to be picky on the location.
He can’t allow himself to be picky- he knows that he’s wanted you ever since he saw you swirling to Dancer in the Dark, he knows that things are meant to be how they play out. Actually, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the risk of someone seeing, likes the way the windows fog up and how the car rocks slightly, obvious to people outside. Jeongguk relishes in that excitement, crossed with the pleasure and arousal coursing through his body when his attention is pulled out of hit thoughts and back onto you. The rain quietens down and he hears you, feels his hands grip tighter around you and his guided pace quicken, all with a breathy high tone in his ear, occasional breaches of rain and roars of thunder, an orchestral accompanying each of you through the sex, until gushing sounds of rain are what he hears when he sees white in his eyes and over his dick, a melting handprint in the condensation on the window.
[02:34AM] You: def just heard something on my balcony so if i die, pls tell yoongi that it was ME who lost his left airpod and it was also me who stole his signed Nirvana album it’s on my shelf im sorry
[02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: um
[02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: wtf…..
[02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: u really just gonna die and not leave anything for me????
[02:36AM] You: SSKSSKKSKSKSK
[02:36AM] You: u can have my bank account details + contents
[02:36AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: !!!!!!!!
[02:37AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: omg rip y/n <3 u will be missed omg…..omg cant believe ur dead
All jokes aside, you stare for a long time at your balcony doors, going insane at the sight of nothing at all through the glass and your curtains, slightly see-through to allow the sun in the mornings.
The night burns on your eyes, flashing swirls of colour taking over as you stare for too long at seemingly nothing at all. Quite possibly, it is the wind, or an animal that has climbed onto the balcony from out of one of the trees. It’s happened before- one time, a family of raccoons migrated onto your balcony during the September months of last year, and stayed there for so long that you forgot your balcony had doors. Those same doors are locked, like they always are on a nighttime, but the bedroom window remains open, slightly pushed out to allow in a breeze to circulate the room.
Knowing that it’s probably nothing, you settle back down into bed, drifting back into sleep remarkably fast for somebody previously quite concerned with being killed. This fact is startling- not just to you, but also to Jeongguk, who cocks a leg over your balcony rail and then through your window. What also shocks him was how easy it was to do all of this, now that he’s standing in your bedroom with nothing to say given the fact that you’ve fallen back to sleep.
Jeongguk sighs softly. It’s been about a week and a half since the beach, and the car, and the rain and the first time, but it feels like it’s been months. Jeongguk had to leave for a few days, three at the most, to film some puppy interview for Buzzfeed and continue other solo interviews while the rest of the band settled for a break in their LA residence. Every moment away felt like agony, so painful that Jeongguk found himself back outside your house, surprises stored in emails on his phone.
He steps quietly over towards your bed, wincing when his weight on top of the comforter causes a loud rustle and squeak. Still, you don’t wake, not until Jeongguk lays himself over you with his hands near your shoulders, his voice quiet and murmuring your name, hair tickling your face, lips on skin.
“Wha-Jeongguk?” you ask quietly, your voice groggy. “How’d you get in here…?”
“I think you need security, urgently,” Jeongguk replies quietly. When you roll over onto your back, he smiles gently and wraps hair from out of your face around your ear. “And you need to start locking your windows. You make a robbery look very easy.”
You sigh. “Oh. I thought it was okay.”
“Just be glad your intruder is me and not somebody else,” he says caringly. “Sorry I woke you.”
“No,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “I was awake...and then I closed my eyes for a bit. Hey, was that you out on the balcony?”
Jeongguk grins. “Knew you saw me.”
“I didn’t. Well, I did, but I thought I was being overly paranoid,” you tell him. You yawn away from him, “What time is it, babe?”
Jeongguk purposefully ignores the feeling in his chest. “It’s two fourty.”
You groan. “Are you stopping the night? Get in, I’m tired.”
Jeongguk brings himself down to kiss you once. “No. No, no, you can’t sleep right now. I wanna go out.”
“Now?” you ask, aghast.
“Yeah. Let’s go somewhere.”
“At like three-am?”
“Yeah, sorry, it was the only time I could get it. I wanna take you somewhere special.”
Once Jeongguk is finished speaking, you open your eyes wider and observe him. It’s only then that you notice his clothing; over his upper body, he wears a large oversized grey hoodie, slightly worn out and wrinkled with the drawstring missing, and as always, dark jeans that blend in with the night. A frown worms its way onto your face, your expression unreadable to Jeongguk’s eyes.
“Get it? Get what, babe?” you mutter.
Jeongguk hums, like shrugging.
“Where are we going?” you ask, starting to sit up which forces Jeongguk to roll over on the bed, until his feet swing over the side and hit the floor. He wants to stay quiet for the sake of yourself, considering he’s not looking forward to accidentally waking up your family. You’ve been staying at your parents' place for the entire week, abusing reading week for sleeping in, going out for something to eat, and returning home to watch Glee rather than finish your art assignments. Naturally, Jeongguk doesn’t want the whole family to reject him just because he woke them up at three in the morning to collect you from your room.
“Hm,” Jeongguk starts, straining to hear if anything outside your bedroom catches his ear. He faintly hears the sound of claws across the wood, remembering you once mentioning that your family had a dog. “How about we go to Paris?”
You whip around to look at him, making out his silhouette in the dark. “Paris? Are you fucking with me?”
“Why, what’s wrong with Paris?”
“There is nothing wrong with Paris,” you affirm, gasping. “I just...really? Paris?”
“Yeah. Thought we could stop by The Louvre to see that dude Maxine tried to set you up with.”
You snort quietly, moving to turn on a lamp which brightens the room into shades of orange. “How did you even know about that?”
“I hear things,” he says, shrugging. Jeongguk then shakes his head and looks back at you, making his way to the bottom of the bed. “No. I just really wanna take you out somewhere special.”
“The beach was special to me,” you tell him.
Jeongguk smiles, “Me, too. But...Paris.”
Laughter bubbles at the back of your throat. “Okay. Let’s go to Paris. Why not?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, laughing also, “why not? Need help packing anything? You won’t need a lot, I can take you out when we get there.”
You pull a face, looking back at Jeongguk. “Wow...our first vacation together and you’re already going to spoil me?”
Jeongguk grins widely, “Well, on our first date I humped you, so I guess we’re pretty unconventional.”
You have nothing to say in reply to that.
(PARIS)
One thing you never thought you’d get the chance to do is take a trip on a private jet, holding up the scheduled flight times of other aircraft at the airport. That changes the second that Jeongguk pulls up outside of LAX, his hand carefully and tightly clamped around your own as he escorts you whilst also being escorted by his own small handful of security right into the large building. Thankfully for him, the airport is empty, occupied by sleeping flyers who wait on hard, metal chairs, the tinny sound of music playing at volume three.
His jet is small, yet luxurious; it’s everything out of a movie set, decorated in mocha creams and whites, clinking glasses of champagne waiting to be swallowed. His pilot knows him by name, and there’s a handpicked air hostess who looks bored and old, her lock screen a picture of her children. Jeongguk smiles at her, even addresses her by name and introduces you with a chirpy tone. The lady looks surprised, covering it up with a tight smile of nervousness. Maybe you’re the only girl Jeongguk’s ever brought on the plane before. Maybe you’re another girl he’s brought on the plane, you don’t know for sure.
After take off, Jeongguk spins in his recliner seat and drums his fingers in his lap. You sit opposite, looking meek, your gaze out the window at the dark clouds and sky. As you continue to fly, the sky opens up, into ombre colours that fascinate. One is looking at the beauty of nature and the other is looking at the beauty of a woman. Neither says a word.
When the plane reaches touch down, the airport is quite bustling and energetic, thankfully again no fans who caught an air of mystery from Jeongguk’s suspicious tweets at one in the morning, when he spontaneously booked tickets without even getting the green flag. Money to waste, risks to take, is what he’d say. Jeongguk helps you carry your small bag to the hired vehicle, an inconspicuous black car with black-out windows. He’s half expecting the vehicle to give him away, but nobody present actually gives a fuck about who is in the car and who isn’t. So, he climbs in without being noticed, his hand in yours, right up until the doors close and you’re hotel bound.
“Fuck, jet-lag.”
Jeongguk dives onto the bed, his back on the duvet and nose tipped up to the ceiling. Presently, you’ve been in Paris for a few hours, staring at the roads below with tired and sleepy eyes, heavy shoulders, a day indoors. Jeongguk’s been to Paris before, quite a few times actually - you haven’t, seeing the city in glimpses outside your balcony. To his right, the bathroom light clicks off and you shuffle out, a towel wrapped around your body as you cross the width of the room.
“Right?” you agree with a small frown. You crouch to pick up a fallen jacket off the back of the chair, tucked underneath the white vanity. “I almost fell asleep in the shower.”
“Yeah? You tired?”
“Exhausted,” you say honestly. “Once I’m dry, I think I might head to bed.”
Jeongguk hums in reply, maybe agreement. He lets you do what you need to do; of course, he takes a peek, because he’s a boy and he can’t help himself. You’re dressing by the window, staring out at the pretty Eiffel Tower who shines, lit up for the evening. The room is dark, dressed in midnight tones, the only light outside and the glow of one of the lamps upon the table top. Jeongguk is so wordlessly in awe that he doesn’t care about not being able to see. He sees your silhouette against the light of the city, curved and beautiful, hidden away by a long button up that you picked out of the wrong suitcase, not that he cares. His cheek is pressed against the pillow and he feels his body lifting up off the bed like he’s levitating. God, his chest is so light, it hurts, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, laugh, smile, leap up and yell. You finish buttoning and turn and he returns to the mattress.
The bed dips as you crawl up onto it, your knees by Jeongguk as you sit next to him on the bed. Instantly, Jeongguk’s hands move to your hair to move it away from your face as you look down at him, one hand on your knee also. On command, the smile on his lips widens softly when you brush away his fringes off his face, humming and then reaching down for a kiss, stealing one from his lips without warning and another off the slope of his chin.
“Paris is pretty,” you tell him. Jeongguk hums. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He shrugs awkwardly. “Sorry it’s not the Maldives, baby.”
“Whatever. Paris is better,” you say. “Our view is gorgeous.”
You look back at the window. Jeongguk does not. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”
“Must have been expensive as fuck,” you exhale, turning back to him. His hand that was once on your face drops to your back, wandering until it’s found on your ass. It feels nice, you can’t complain.
“Rich kids of LA come to Paris to make noise and take tourist photos by the Eiffel Tower,” Jeongguk replies, joking but sounding serious, which is a talent of his. You laugh, so he knows it’s something you recognise. He laughs too. “It’s actually in Yoongi’s name. Just asked him if I could use it for a weekend away.”
Your brows curve upwards in amusement. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m a fraud, it’s not my apartment,” he sighs, “but, at least we’re here. Like it enough, and I’ll buy us a house here.”
“Are we really there yet?”
“Might be,” Jeongguk theorises. “Wanna try it for a bit longer?”
Nothing is said. Outside, a car honks and you sigh at the same time, through your nose, playing with your fingers with Jeongguk’s locks of hair that grow longer over his face. His head hasn’t moved, still squashed against the pillows, his earrings tangled and most likely stuck to strands of his hair, a difficulty for when he decides to move. He feels your hand on his face again, comforting, and he inhales your familiar scent and knows you’ve come closer by the time you’re there, pressing your lips to his.
It’s fleeting, fast. You pull away right as Jeongguk comes to terms with what you’re doing, and so he follows you up as you move away. He’s sitting up, his hands on your elbows as he moves to kiss you again, finish what you started.
A bar door outside opens and music spills out, just as Jeongguk’s hands move from your elbows to your ribcage, his heart in his throat when you reach up to tenderly hold his face, fingers near his ears on his neck. This is euphoria; your hands drop, Jeongguk moving once more to prod and palm. As he kisses you, his thumbs gently massage around your breasts, in circular motions, soft and cradling and exploring. Into his mouth you groan, quietly, like a vocal moan that lasts for a few seconds before being captured by his lips again. Jeongguk’s left hand claws at your boob, grabbing, reaching up to your neck. Now he’s holding you, his hair in his eyes tickling as he guides you. On your cheek, you feel his thumb grazing, holding you close to him even when you pull apart for a modicum of a second to capture your breath. Quite possibly, he could be sick out of nerves - your hands fall limply to his wrists, then down as his hands hold the damp back of your head. After a little longer, Jeongguk pulls himself away, his eyes half-lidded and yours closed entirely.
He admires what he’s done and what he sees. Once more, he kisses you, dragging it out until he’s moved away again, simply admiring. You’re far from done, though; you pull him back after catching your breath, your eyes now open and slightly fuzzy. Jeongguk smiles, warmly, gently. You might cry. As his hands drop from your head to the top of your shirt, fiddling with his fingers around the buttons, your lip gets caught between your bottom teeth and Jeongguk’s eyes are drawn to the sight. He might make a comment, might not. He decides not to. Instead, he moves back in and bides his hands time to undo your buttons.
The cool silk of your shirt drops as he undos the buttons, sliding like rainwater down your shoulders and arms, until it pools around your elbows. Thankfully for him, Jeongguk’s only in joggers and a button down, something he can easily slip himself out of. You’re wearing next to nothing, now that the shirt’s out of the question; all that decorates underneath is underwear, which Jeongguk doesn’t care for anyway. His hands paw at the shirt, trying to undo the last button without pulling away but it feels impossible. Frustrated, he huffs and moves away, his gaze locked on the final button above your pantline and he flushes when a laugh leaves your lips, something small and delicate and girly. He twitches.
“You, too,” you say, once the shirt is removed and you’re only in underwear, which is next on Jeongguk’s list of things to remove. He looks up with mild surprise, having the audacity to be confused by what you’re talking about. It is only when your fingers curl around the waist of his joggers that he smiles, like an idiot, and hums charmingly.
“Shuffle back for a minute?” Jeongguk asks, and you do, excited and buzzing when Jeongguk quickly pushes the joggers down his thighs. When they bunch around his ankles he kicks furiously, like a child, grunting - and you’re laughing, giggling like a school-girl, drunk on the residue of his lips. Of course, he smiles too, because happiness is a goddamn drug. He inhales with exasperation, muttering “아이씨” under his breath. He finishes it up with a chuckle, a voiceless laugh out of his throat, and then he kisses you again.
Jeongguk eventually ends up lifting you, one arm flush against your waist and his other hand graciously ripping down your underwear, careless and selfish when he hears the fabric tear. Your eyes widen, having heard it too, but you’re too dazed to mention it. The undies are tossed towards the balcony door and Jeongguk settles you back on his lap, for a brief moment. He kisses you again, pulling himself snug against you and then, he lays you down.
“So pretty,” Jeongguk comments, his hands sliding down your sides.
“You can’t even see me,” you say.
Jeongguk shrugs, shuffling down the bed. His elbows pinch into your thighs, locking his arms over them and his chin is on top of your groin. “Don’t need to. I just know.”
You slightly laugh, finding it endearing. Jeongguk chuckles too, pressing a kiss to your stomach and then his hands push up at your calves. With your legs up into arrow shapes, knees to the sky, Jeongguk kindly peels them apart, planting himself right in between.
“Jeongguk,” you breathe his name. He grins, you can feel his mouth extending against your skin. He doesn’t reply.
Situated between two smooth legs, Jeongguk’s head dips and dives. A groan is rasped out of you, followed by a string of moany exhales as Jeongguk’s tongue lays flat, covering every inch of your pussy further with sucks and nips that make your toes curl. Jeongguk’s not done this to you before. He feels slightly anxious, because he wants it to be good for you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, burrowing his head in.
“Mpmf- Jeongguk,” you gasp, your head hiding in the comforter. Jeongguk’s on his stomach, nonchalant. Jeongguk licks everywhere he can, kitten licks that stretch out into long ones, exploring. Your mouth drops. Jeongguk moves one hand away from your leg, his fingers curling up to your pussy to stretch out your labia, one finger lazily brushing against your clit. Each brush is exciting, teasing, sensitive. He hums. He’s heard you. He wants to hear more.
He doesn’t do more, because Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cum yet. He has his fun, feeling your thighs lock around his head and quiver when his fingers swipe on your nub, his tongue inching into your cunt, driving out sounds from your lips. Jeongguk entertains that for a few more minutes, hard and throbbing by the time you’re begging for him to stop, rather than keep going.
When he pulls away, your legs shake, quivering like being left out in the cold for too long. He lays down flat instead, tapping your body for you to make a move when you’re ready, which doesn’t take long. Soon after, he feels the brush of your wetness against his leg as you haul yourself up and onto him, hovering over his middle, your hands on his chest.
Jeongguk cocks his head thoughtfully. “Want to?”
You bite your lip. “Yeah.”
“Okay.”
Hair falls over your shoulder. “Do you have a condom on you?”
“In my bag, somewhere,” Jeongguk suggests. He glances to the pile of bags near the door, “But it’s so far away. Are you on the pill?”
“No,” you frown. There’s nothing for a minute. “Want to anyway?”
Jeongguk hesitates, “Yeah. Do you?”
“Yeah. I do,” you tell him. Just as you’re about to take his dick in your hand, Jeongguk reaches out to stop you. You look up at him, finding the glimmer in his eyes in the dull light, “what?”
“What if I cum?” Jeongguk asks.
“I’d like you to.”
“What if I cum inside of you?”
A short silence. Jeongguk drums his fingers impatiently against your thigh. “Whatever,” you settle with. His heart trembles when your hand wraps around him. “I’d be a good Mom.”
Jeongguk laughs, then, his other hand joining the other on your waist. “If it happens, I’ll look after both of you. You can be unemployed and pampered if that’s what you want.”
“God, that’s fucking sexy,” you sigh.
He’s kidding, so are you, but the risk is still great. Jeongguk swallows a thick lump down his throat and settles his hands on your hips, embarrassed to be nervous with the build up of you rising up on your knees, planted either side of his waist. A tremor of coldness makes him shudder as your hand touches the base of his dick, hypersensitive without the rubber. For a brief moment, he catches your gaze, slightly hidden away behind fringes of hair that cast over your eyes.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks, nervous and rubbing his hands against your skin.
You dip your head. “Yeah. Are you?”
“Mhm. I just - just want it to be good for you,” he confesses. “Don’t want it to hurt you. Don’t want you to regret it.”
“Well, are you clean? I got tested not too long ago, did it before my last pill. I’m clean.”
Jeongguk shifts. “Did it on tour with Hoseok. He was going because of Rosie and I was going because he suggested it for us. I’m good. That sound alright for you?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “It sounds perfect for me.”
And so it’s perfect for him, too. Jeongguk questions whether this is right, whether he should stop, but right now he can’t think properly. Not when he can feel himself growing rigid in your grasp, the bristle in his body when you slowly rub your clit across the head of his cock, vibrations. He grunts under his breath, his fingers shaking against your hips. Looking up at Jeongguk once more between your hair, catching the pull of his bottom lip in the scarce light and feeling his body rising beneath you, you shake your head over your shoulders and position yourself. And then you sink.
Paris is a gorgeous city, bustling with life. Across the narrow road, where another small apartment sits with a bay window and a balcony decorated with plants, the lights flicker in strobe patterns, neons bleeding into dulls seeping into pastels. A party, a parade, an applause when the size of Jeongguk adjusts inside of you. He can’t hear you, not over the noise of the party that has suddenly birthed in the moonlight hours. Perhaps Jeongguk is thankful for this, and the way it covers up his noises also.
Jeongguk groans inwards when you clench around him, familiar with the way it feels, remembering the unaccustomed sting and burn. After some time to adjust, you relax, making your first movements up and down, testing the waters, building a rhythm. Jeongguk can’t breathe, his mind paused, his breathing lodged in his throat, his lungs singing. You keep it up, the momentum, finding a pattern in the beat of the music in the background; the bass is your routine, each bump a drop onto Jeongguk’s hips, the brush of his head against your inner walls, euphoric.
“Oh my - fuck,” Jeongguk hisses, his voice barely heard. You catch it though, like a faint whisper, the sound burning your face with embarrassment. His grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as his palms slide from your hips to your ass. He holds like handles of a motorbike, guidance.
You’re slouching, hunched over with your hands on Jeongguk’s chest. He feels a pressure, not sure if it’s your hands pushing down or if it’s his own body, forcing down an orgasm he doesn’t want to have too soon. He sees purple behind you, your dark silhouette cast over him like an angel. With every slap against his body made by your ass, Jeongguk groans, grunts, borderline moans. When he strains to hear your gasps of air something in the background masks them, a sabotage.
“Feel good?” Jeongguk asks. His hands move to your wrists.
You whimper, thoughtless.
“Babe, does it feel good?”
“Mhm.” Your head falls to the side, cheek on your shoulder: “Mhm, feels good.” Something moany comes out of your lips, something muffled and whined. Imploring, spoiled. “Fuck, Jeongguk, that feels so good - keep….keep it like that.”
Jeongguk thinks it over, familiarising himself with his own movements. His grip squeezes around your wrist.
“Like that?” He follows with his body slowly thrusting up, like he would move if he were grinding the air, like inching his hips up under the covers to feel his dick on the duvet.
“Yeah,” you breathe. Even though he can’t see that well, you glance down at him: “can you - can you hold my hands?”
Jeongguk feels his stomach sink and rise, flipping, the butterflies. “Sure, baby.”
When you feel Jeongguk’s hands in your own, you hum to yourself, rising with your fingers interlocked. Jeongguk lets you do what you want with them, obliging when you slightly part his arms, hands locked on either side in the air. You sink, and rise, and sink, and rise, and Jeongguk is lost in the stars. Red, orange, blue, magenta- the rainbow appears as your wings, Jeongguk’s eyes trying to adjust in the dark on your face, on your tits, on the bits that are grainy in his vision. He imagines instead, based off memory of the beach, and the rain. When he feels your cunt clench around him again and your hands slip away to fall back behind you, Jeongguk curses into the air and lifts himself up, his arms wrapped around your middle.
“You feel so good,” Jeongguk says, his lips ghosted over yours now that he’s sitting upright. “Mhm? Hear me? Fuck, you feel so fucking good right now-”
You whimper. Jeongguk seals it up, steals it, captures it with his mouth as he kisses you. His hands are all twisted and searching, one between your shoulder blades and the other on your ass, his mind reeling when you put your palms on his cheeks, absolute bliss. It’s loud, or it would be if he could hear over the sound of the music in the apartment over, and Jeongguk picks up pieces in between the basslines, vocals and harmonies stripped apart so he can find your voice underneath. He pulls his mouth away, latching it to your neck, where your mouth is near his ear, right where he wants it. A hot flush runs up his body when he feels your breath on his ear, hears your needy moans and groans, feels your hands clawing at his back.
“Ugh- umf, Guk, I’m - I’m close,” you pant, his reply a bite to your neck. He sinks his teeth in, like a vampire with dull teeth, and you cry out into his ear. His cock twitches inside of you, the ridges of his cock smearing against your walls. He hums, not sure if you’ll hear it. You don’t. He pulls away and mouths the bite.
“Cum when you want to,” he says sweetly, moving his mouth to your ear briefly before moving back away. His hair is soft against your neck, his head angled to kiss at your skin, covered in a glow.
“What about you?” you ask.
Jeongguk smiles, his teeth present on your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m right behind you.”
He nuzzles his face into your neck, his eyes closed serenely as he holds you tight, holds you as you bounce up and down for the finale. Above him, your body trembles.
“Tired,” you laugh breathlessly, and Jeongguk makes a confused noise, like he hasn’t quite heard you correctly. After no reply, he sniffs, collecting you in his arms to hold you tighter than before, using his energy to move you. You may as well be paralysed, a fucktoy for him as he bounces you up and down, basking in the moans in his ear, pornographic and nasty and lewd and heard over the music that has changed tempo.
“Ah!” Jeongguk grunts into your ear with every slam onto his dick, feeling his body seize up in warning. “Gonna - I might…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. You’re not listening to it. All you can focus on is the feeling in your stomach, pressing your nails into Jeongguk’s skin.
Jeongguk saves his own release for later. He focuses, instead, on you and making you feel good, slowing himself down in the race so that you can come first. His lips press back to yours, tongue hot, and he stops bouncing you. One arm is tight around your waist and the other snakes to the front of your body, between your legs where around your thighs he finds your clit, rubbing with his thumb. He can feel your body tense and dither over him, a tightness clenching around him as you squirm, Jeongguk’s hips tiredly thrusting upwards in a slow and steady rhythm.
“Ah - Jeongguk,” you cry, words sinking into his mouth. “Baby-”
With one final flick upwards, Jeongguk lets out a throat-forced grunt into your mouth right as the pot spills, and down the length of Jeongguk’s dick trickles white. You can’t see, it’s dark and blurry, and everything feels numb. It’s nothing like the beach, which was sweet and tender and a rainy haze. This time, it’s a burning that feels dull until it races up your body, like hot goosebumps, until it washes over your body like the drop from the tallest roller coaster. Jeongguk milks it up, his own hands shaking as he grunts wordlessly, until he stutters, his toes curling.
“Umf- babe,” he pants. He moves his hands, you’re attempting to move for him but you feel stuck. Instead you clench, hard and soft, Jeongguk squirms. “Gonna- I’m-” He’s silent. One moment, you hear the laughter and a cork pop outside, and the next moment, Jeongguk’s moans are in your ear, his hands rubbing up your thighs as he moves twice upwards, as if storing his cum in safe spots inside. And then, as if on cue, he pulls out, stuffing his hand where his dick was to feel the cum drip out, like a melting ice-cream.
On his forehead he feels your lips parted and breathing and he fiddles his fingers around, non-sexually, curious. The cum stains his fingers, dressing them, and he laughs from his chest, lost of breath.
Jeongguk sighs, slotting his fingers into your mouth quite suddenly. He can barely see you, the light is still dim behind you but it’s enough for him to make it out, the grain obtrusive. He feels your lips close around his fingers and your tongue on his fingertips, a dazed smile across his face.
He sighs again. “Shit. You’re incredible.”
With a wet sound, he moves his fingers out. Despite cumming, his dick is still semi-hard, on it’s way out. Jeongguk preens when your arms wrap around his neck, his mouth needily on yours for a brief kiss. “So good.”
“Yeah?” you ask quietly.
“The best,” he confirms. “Where’ve you been all my life, hm?”
You laugh through your nose, quiet. “Wasting money at Uni and working for my cousin.” He laughs too, a small one that makes him sound small. You play with the hair at the back of his head, “Sorry for making you wait so long.”
He shrugs. “Was worth it. You’re worth the wait.”
You hum in reply, too tired to move.
“Sticky,” you say with a frown.
Jeongguk’s arms tighten around you, acknowledging your words. “And you just got clean.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower in the morning.”
After a short while of sitting there, you slowly untangle your arms from around him. Jeongguk has the nerve to be confused, a small hum in question as you climb off him.
“Where you going?” he asks.
“I’m going to pee,” you reply. “To be safe.”
“Oh. Okay, pee on.”
“Sorry,” you say. Leaning up to kiss his lips, Jeongguk smiles into it and all the while as you move to hurry towards the bathroom. The sound of the toilet seat being lifted, and a slight squeak from the toilet that Yoongi desperately needs to consider replacing, and then Jeongguk settles down onto the bed with a happy sigh. His chest rises and falls as the party goes on outside, fireworks behind the Eiffel Tower.
He could get used to this.
Something wakes you up with the sunrise, twisting into soft orange colours that stretch across the agriculture of Paris. It barely lights up the city, enough for shadows to still be drawn across the mocha coloured buildings, the stone still cold in the shade. You wriggle inside the sheets slightly, discomfort between your legs and very slowly, your eyes adjust to the slight light brewing in the bedroom.
The patio doors leading out onto the small balcony are drawn open, the see-through curtains swaying like slow hips in the wind. Beside you, the bed is cold, untucked and open where Jeongguk has climbed out. Mentioning Jeongguk, you notice that he sits on the end of the bed, facing the sunrise and the Eiffel Tower with a notebook in his hand. The pages are folded over the spine, bulking it up, and he taps a pen against his ear quietly. The sound is all you can hear alongside the early-rising birds, a car honk outside and the next door neighbours hanging out of their window with chocolate bread and strong coffee.
“Mmm. Guk?”
Your voice is slightly hoarse, bedirdden, and Jeongguk manages to hear it as he turns his head over his shoulder. A smile dawns on his face and he shifts, one hand on the bed and the book closing shut on its own. “Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?”
You yawn, rubbing your eyes. Some mascara rubs off onto your hand. “No, you’re okay.” He doesn’t say anything at first, there’s no competition for the next word. When your vision finally settles onto a visible image, you see Jeongguk’s face and the book in his lap. “What are you doing…? Wait, what time is it…”
“It’s about five thirty,” Jeongguk estimates, although he’s not sure. He’s actually not far off, it’s five fourty one. “And, um...not much.” For a moment, Jeongguk sounds bashful. He shrugs, hiding the book and smiling at you. “You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll be quiet.”
“Kinda hungry,” you admit. You inhale the air, “Oh my God, those fuckers next door have coffee.”
“Chocolate bread, too. Caught a glimpse when I opened the doors.”
You groan. “What the fuck…”
Jeongguk laughs, genuinely. His head turns back towards the Eiffel Tower, in awe, and after a few minutes of nothing but morning silence, you sigh and clamber over the sheets. They’re cold, crisp and wrinkled, and Jeongguk looks up at the noise. He frowns, only because you’re wearing barely anything.
“You’re gonna get cold,” Jeongguk points out, his hands reaching for the bed throw that had been kicked onto the floor during the night. “Want me to close the window?”
“No, it’s pretty.”
“It’s cold, though.”
You push your face onto Jeongguk’s shoulder blade. “Whatever.”
He chuckles, resigning from the conversation. You’ll win anyway. A tiny bird lands on the patio rails, and you inhale the morning air, planting a kiss on Jeongguk’s shoulder.
“You sure you’re okay?”
This makes Jeongguk look up. His eyes wear confusion and adoration, round and searching as he looks over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why, why wouldn’t they be?”
“I worry about you, ‘s all,” you reply quietly. “All the time.”
Jeongguk’s heart breaks.
“I’m...I’m good,” he replies honestly. “Really good. I haven’t been doing this great in...well...I don’t know, forever? Call it cringey, or whatever, but having you in my life...Fuck, it’s changed everything.”
You gaze up at him. “You’ve made a pretty big difference in my life, too, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m here for you. Always.”
Jeongguk doesn’t miss a beat- his hand wraps to stroke your hair, curled from the shower earlier, pressing a little kiss to your nose. He nods, and his hair brushes against your face. “Yeah.” He nods, confident, “Yeah. Actually- LOL,” he laughs, “I. Um, I wrote something.”
“Oh? Yeah, what did you write?”
He reopens the book. The pages are littered with lines of writing, alongside small doodles in the margins, words like arrows shooting across the lines. His hands flip to a page that has the corner marked down, the numbers “23” in bold outline at the top of the page. You inhale, nervous, your eyes lazily looking at the lines.
“Just a song,” Jeongguk explains. “Woke up, looked over at you, just got the idea. I had to write it down as soon as I thought about it. Got the melody and stuff worked out, just need to make a note and tell the guys when I get back.”
You hum, genuinely enthralled. You quickly look at him, “Can I hear some?”
If it were light enough, you might have caught a blush across his face. He clears his throat, shy.
“I’m fadin’ away off some kind of drug, maybe it’s lust, maybe it’s love,” his voice is quiet, almost as if speaking the words is something wrong, “I know I said I’d straighten a week ago, I feelin’ though, bout to reach my peak, you know. This city’s got me fallin, now, I’m fading away, I’m losing my head…” He mutters the lyrics, singing quietly. As he skims over what he’s got scribbled down, you can feel your heart thudding, soaring, feeling numb and soft and warm and everything else.
“It’s about you, called 23,” Jeongguk says. At some point, you’ve missed the rest of the lyrics, intent on gazing at Jeongguk like he is God’s angel sent down from Heaven. He is so beautiful, so kind and pure. “Sound okay?”
You nod, and maybe Jeongguk sees tears pearling in your eyes. “Yeah. Fuck- it sounds beautiful, Guk.”
A smile immediately reaches across Jeongguk’s face. It lights up the room better than the sun, now reaching higher into the sky. “You’re beautiful. I wanna make you so happy.”
“You do make me happy.”
“Yeah?” he asks, laughing, his eyes turned into moons. “Well...Look. I’ve never had to ask anyone, so it’s awkward as fuck right now, but...like…” He laughs, and you do too, because you know it’s coming, “Do you, like...wanna be my girl?”
“Your girl?”
He laughs louder. “Fine - my girlfriend! Y/N L/N, the light of my small and sad life, will you please be my girlfriend?”
Once your laughter has calmed down, and Jeongguk’s hand tiredly slips from your hair down to the bed next to your own, you really, honestly look at Jeongguk. Above everything else, you can’t quite believe that you are here with him; with somebody you never thought you had a chance with, with somebody who you would do absolutely anything for. The way you presently feel about Jeongguk is overwhelming and dangerous, so strong that sometimes you feel afraid by it. You bite your bottom lip, amusing the idea of actually thinking about it, and then you nod.
“Sure. Of course,” you agree, kissing his shoulder. His head follows you, his breath on the bare skin of your shoulders as he ducks his head to kiss the side of yours. “You’ve got me.”
Jeongguk feels like he could quite honestly burst into tears. “I’ve got you.”
(“I’m not 23 though,” you say to him once the love has died down. He cracks a smile and pushes you back onto the bed, returning to look at the Eiffel Tower.)
part two (final)
#pHEW#yoonkooknetwork#ggukienet#jeon jungkook#bts#bangtan#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook imagine#jjk#jeon jeongguk#jeongguk smut#jeongguk x reader#bts smut#bts imagine#bangtan imagine#bts scenario#jeongguk scenario#jungkook scenario#jungkook series#bts series#rockstar bts#jungkook#jeongguk#bighit#bts au#rockstar jeongguk#rockstar jungkook#gwoongi#tw: alcohol
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goose-books productions: a 2020 review
view the image in higher quality here! (open the image in a new tab to zoom in.) thank you to my dearest @yvesdot for the template
transcripts and month-by-month details under the cut! for reference, you can find my projects here :-) overall, new and old followers, thank you for another good year over here! [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your h
january
i spent late 2019-early 2020 working on 2019’s nano project, quark, aka the speculative fiction thing about new york city and prophets and dissections of the chosen one trope and gay people. quark is my second-oldest project (five years!), but it’s also probably the most ambitious, so it’s been... difficult to wrangle into place, and i didn’t end up finishing a first draft. oh, well.
enjoy a snippet that is devastatingly emblematic of everything about quark. the tone. the homoerotic tension. the ensemble cast all talking over each other. the fact that caelum has spent pretty much this entire scene crying. fun autopsy report meeting.
Marble stares at the notebook in Shade’s hands. Or maybe he’s staring at Shade’s hands. Dawn feels a little voyeuristic, so she does what she does and says a dumb and unrelated thing: “Augustus, I think this pizza-on-the-floor thing is hurting my ass.”
Augustus flutters his hands. “Sometimes nonconformity is painful.”
“At least we’re originals,” Caelum mumbles into his sleeve.
“Exactly,” Augustus says.
“True originality doesn’t exist,” Marble says.
“Oh,” Shade deadpans, “it’s going to be a fun autopsy report meeting.”
It isn’t.
february
in january i stressed myself out trying to make the plot of quark work. so in february, i decided to take some time and write something Entirely For Fun. like, entirely for fun, no rules. and. my god. how do i explain the project i started calling “third eye for the bad guy.”
it was an unholy mashup of many of my past hyperfixations, including the gone series, a tale of two cities, warrior cats, and the left hand of darkness. one of the characters was a canon scalie and one was a canon fictionkinnie. it centered around a polycule of wannabe-evil-overlord high schoolers. i only wrote like three chapters but i was lost in the sauce for all of february and then i just… like… wiped it from my mind and moved on? somehow??? one character was a werewolf and that literally wasn’t relevant at ALL
I.
Someone was going to die on these steps.
This had been Ivy Lee Palomo’s thought last year during the all-school photo, and it rose in her mind again now. The one hundred marble stairs leading up to the great double doors of Saint Constantine Academy were the school’s pride and glory, steep as the mountain, sharp as the blade under Ivy Lee’s skirt. With the cutting wind and snow glazing the stone more often than not, with the freshmen wild and wired on their first day of their first year, it was really only a matter of time before someone slipped and cracked their fucking head open.
It wasn’t going to be her. Not when she had Doc Martens and reflexes like an electric coil. Still. Ivy Lee didn’t want to watch someone die. She didn’t get along with dead people.
march
in march, i got back to the project i’d started in 2019 - AMT, my podcast! it’s a shakespeare retelling set in a modern high school; this excerpt is funnier and also more unnerving in context. (double, double, toil and trouble...)
INDRAJIT: What the hell are you doing?
[PAUSE.]
DEE (like she’s lying): Making pasta.
[ALL THREE OF THEM LAUGH.]
NONA: That’s right.
MORA: We have the keys to Mab’s office.
DEE: We’re using her stove.
NONA: To make pasta.
DEE: Do you want some?
[A TENSE PAUSE.]
INDRAJIT: No.
april
and darkling rears its head! all of my other projects have existed for at least a year; darkling (specfic king lear retelling) is... special. it was conceived in april, when i started hyperfixating on king lear, and i still managed to write an absolutely ridiculous amount of content for it. it was like the power of hyperfixation let me speedrun the entire process. which. okay.
iv: control
They say Cressida Stayer was nine years old when she turned her hair to gold. They laid her down in bed blonde, and the next morning, the waves cascading down her shoulders were solid metal, glinting harshly in the sunlight, weighing her down, creating that odd head-cocked expression she still wears now. Nine years old. Two or three years before most people develop enough magic skills to dye a single curl. Much less transfigure their hair into precious metal.
People also say Leovald Stayer’s immediate reaction was to hack it off her head and melt it down for cash. But generally they say that part a lot quieter.
may
in may i wrote AMT episode 15, by which i mean that in may there was a day when i sat in my room with the door shut for literally five straight hours listening to the same three songs on loop as i wrote the climax of one of the plotlines of AMT. so. that sure was… a day.
ISAAC: Do you want… do you want someone to drive you home? Hawk, you’re worrying me -
HAWK (almost cutting him off): Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m here to help. With your… thing.
ISAAC (quietly): I… don’t know if you should be here to see this.
HAWK (a little louder, more audibly upset): Well - what else am I going to do? Go home and - and have my dads talk at me and - and not be able to answer them? Because I can’t? I can’t. I don’t know what to say.
[PAUSE.]
ISAAC (V.O.): I wonder if this is what he feels like, on the outside, looking in at me. Watching someone else hurting. Helpless and afraid.
He still fits perfectly in my arms. I rest my chin on top of his head and pull him close to me, like I can stop him from shaking, like I can stop anything from happening the way I know it’s going to. I bury my face in his hair. He smells so familiar. He’s so warm.
God, Hawk. I love you so much. You shouldn’t be here to see this. Something bad’s gonna happen. And you’re not the kind of person who belongs in a tragedy.
june
okay, honestly, i should talk about “night shift” here, because in june i wrote a whole short story in one night (and then foamed over it for a week), but i am still in the process of submitting it places! so i am terrified to put even a sentence of it online. instead: the other thing i did this month was to finish AMT! (sixteen episodes and somewhere around 175k, iirc, but don’t quote me.) these lines are the opener to the final episode!
RAHMA (V.O.): The combined series of sophomore year disasters stretched through November. It’s June now. It’s taken me… a long time to get this all put together. I was going to make a vlog about it, initially - well, calling it a vlog sounds frivolous. I was going to make a video recounting the whole deal. All of it. From when I kissed Avery Fairchilde to the very last night. I scripted dozens of drafts; I put together dozens of bullet-pointed lists of what to cover… and it was never enough. Because Avery and I weren’t the only ones involved. Even if I was only focused on the two of us, it wasn’t just the two of us.
So… I gathered up everyone else. The whole town of Ellisburg is still talking about the week the town went crazy, but it wasn’t just a week. There was a lot leading up to it. And I think if anyone’s going to talk about it, it should be us. The people who lived it. So here we are. The most ambitious Rahma Ashiq production of all time - at least so far.
july
every july i pause whatever else i’m doing to celebrate the birthday of aurum & argentate, twins from my oldest and dearest WIP The Mortal Realm. july fifteenth! mark your calendars. they’re princes, though argentate would really rather not be; you can read the full birthday piece here.
“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”
Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.
“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.
“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”
Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.
august
this summer, i wrote an entire draft of Valentine Van Velt is Dead, AKA “holden caulfield goes to exposure therapy,” AKA the weird little personal side project i keep tucked into my coat. interesting features include second-person narration from a narrator who doesn’t like the main character all that much. so reading it is kind of like the book wants to kill you? with an added dash of general melancholy.
You used to live here. That’s the thing that’s got you feeling so off.
You didn’t recognize your old house. I mean, you kind of did. You remembered that the road was on a hill. That hill felt like a goddamn forty-five degree angle when you were a kid. But if you didn’t have the address written down you wouldn’t have known it at all. It would have been just another little suburban house in rows of perfect little towns that make your skin crawl.
So now you’re in this diner looking out a gross smudgy window trying to block out the elevator music pumping through the speakers in the ceiling or whatever. I don’t know how speakers work. You’re trying to tune that shit out. The waitress comes over and catches you by surprise so you just point at some coffee thing on the menu so she’ll go away. For the record: you don’t drink coffee.
There’s a public library across the street. A little square building. You probably used to go there. The lady comes over and thunks your coffee on the table and gives you a kind of look, like she wants to know what in the goddamn hell you think you’re doing here and not at school. You sip your coffee and look out the window until she leaves you alone again. And then you spit it back into the cup because, for the record: you don’t drink coffee.
september
i spent september and october prepping for nano, so i was mostly working on darkling...
It’s late spring; still, at this time of night, on a rooftop, there’s a chill. The wind plays with the end of Ruby’s coat, with her hair. She hands the bottle off to Jasper, stares up at the fogged-over sky, wishes she were lying in Dany’s arms in Dany’s bed instead of here. Wishes, even, that Dany were the one on the roof with her. At least then they’d be cold together. At least then she wouldn’t have to imagine what Dany would say; she could just listen, and watch Dany’s flashing smile and her flinty eyes.
(She cuddles. This is another thing Dany does that Dany probably shouldn’t do, based on everything about Dany; it’s not like rattlesnakes cuddle. But Dany likes to nuzzle into Ruby’s side and rest her head on Ruby’s collarbones and toss an arm over Ruby’s chest, and hold her down like she’s worried she’ll float off somewhere. She’ll card her fingers through Ruby’s hair and hum. Even though they could get caught, even though she’s probably got better places to be - Dany cuddles.)
Ruby imagines it, momentarily, both of them on the roof together, sprawled like horrifyingly beautiful gargoyles, sharp teeth flashing, blood running hot. Up here - it’d be like they ruled the world.
But whatever. Jasper’s fun. He’s hot. He’s got a sharp tongue in a lot more ways than one. And she likes when he lets the mask down. She likes seeing the soft bits underneath. She wants to sink her teeth and nails into them so hard she draws blood. Masks don’t bleed. Ruby would know; that’s why she is what she is.
october
...though i was also in creative writing class in school, and thus ended up writing a bunch of poems of varying quality (my teacher had a real thing for poetry) and also one darklingverse short story where rory and cressida hold hands! which you can find here.
Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.
This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.
Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.
They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.
november
and then november of course was nano which was an adventure all the way through. (opening tumblr on the fifth day of nano to find out about d*stiel... was something.)
“Apologize to me. Or get out of my house.”
Gracen’s voice is very, very low. For a moment she thinks he hasn’t heard her at all. Then he spins, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”
Gracen watches her own chest heave. She pushes herself up off the desk, stands with the effort of pushing a mountain off of her back. Leovald is six-foot-four. Gracen is six-foot-two. In her heels, in the heels she must wear to be a professional woman, to be a lady - they are the same height.
Gracen wipes her nose. When she lowers her arm, there’s a streak of blood across the back of her hand. Fire shivers in her chest; her heart rings in her ears; her voice could cut steel.
“I said,” she says, low, slow, volume building, “apologize to me. Or get. Out. Of. My. House.”
december
and finally, the poem i posted this year! it’s called the beast sonnet, and you can find it in its own post over here (with commentary! how sexy.)
i kill the beast and drop down to my knees,
my blade stained dark with blood of stygian hue,
and for a moment these scarred hands shake free,
and hold a world unfurled for me anew.
but once-mourned victims, victors, vices find;
fear winged me; now its absence strips me bare.
my sword now dulls, my legs, my voice, my mind;
the beast, pried from my throat, leaves no skill there.
and still i hear it laugh, O DEVOTEE—
O CHILD DEAR, NO GLORY WITHOUT ME.
i was quite productive this year; i have to think it was because i was avoiding things... the peak of my productivity happened over the summer and in november, AKA, college app hell. (almost done with the last applications! pray for me.)
a general breakdown of what occupied me this year:
(no, i don’t know why the “various other things” category ended up so large... i blame all the one-off projects i wrote a single page for, and also whatever the fuck happened in february. yes, i do know why it looks hideous; it’s because each of my WIPs has a theme color
thank you once again for spending some time at goose-books dot gov this year! what to expect for next year: well, i very much hope i can produce AMT... also hoping to get darkling ready for beta readers, so keep your eyes out!
#max.txt#and that's a wrap!!! what a goddamn year.#okay. breath in. tags:#quark tag#third eye tag#(i think there are like. two posts in that one?)#amt tag#darkling tag#tmr tag#vvvid tag#wow that was a lot of text. if you read all this... [blows you a kiss] thank you!#max actually writes#year in review
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Double Trouble Week: Gift Exchange/Free day
For the gift exchange I got @wlwcarries not sure if I'll think of anything for the free day part
Alive/Resurrected AU
The boys (and soon after Willie) got resurrected but Julie, how did they do it? Who knows? This takes place around a month after that though and we ain't going to worry about Nick/Caleb in this story, Carrie and Flynn are lesbians, Flynn's pronouns will be she/they, Julie is bi and Luke is pan, but now let's get on to the actual story
“What do you mean you have nothing to wear? You literally have 3 walk-in closets”
“Yes, I do and absolutely nothing to wear in any of them”
Flynn being rightfully annoyed at Carrie had been close to walking out of the house multiple times, this had again been one of those times
“Come on, Care you've been at this all day .Would it help if I came to look with you?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll find something and I’m sure you have other things to do”
“Alright, I’ll wait for you at Julie's then”
Walking to Julie’s house from Carrie’s is a pain since from Carrie’s house you kind of have to go through the beach and then it’s a pretty long walk, so she decided to call an uber. Sure, they weren’t always safe (Always be weary of creeps) but it was the faster way to get to Julie’s house
Though during all of Carrie’s fashion problems and by association also Flynn’s problems, Julie and Luke were having their own problems. Luke had never been to a pride parade and since pride month was first made in 1999-2000 for gay and lesbian people later being for all LGBT+ in 2016(or 2009, I'm really not sure), Luke didn’t even know what pride month was.
"Wait, what are we doing later again?"
"We're going to a pride parade, you know where you celebrate who you are and like the one time in the year you can piss off homophobic people"
Seeing some confusion on Luke's face Julie just decided to give up on it for the meantime, they were going either way so it didn't really matter. She couldn't blame Luke, or Reggie and Alex for that matter, they all have issues catching up on everything, they did die in 1995 so she had to give them a break but it could be slightly frustrating at times.
“I’m going to put on a movie, anything you want to watch?“
“Put on whatever you want, Flynn says they’re on their way and I still need to get ready. Are you sure you can put on a movie by yourself?”
“Of course I’m sure. Do you really doubt me that much?”
Julie was obviously joking but it ended up taking Luke 15 minutes to even get to Netflix. In that time Flynn arrived, Julie got ready and they both made popcorn. Luke insisted that he could do it himself so they left him alone, he eventually put on The Princess And The Frog
Flynn had come over to do Julie's makeup, sure Julie could do it herself but Flynn is better and takes way less time. They both decided on eyeshadow with the bi flag colors for Julie, Flynn offered to do Luke's makeup but he said no, Julie's makeup ended up amazing with much praise for Flynn.
Julie and Luke were cuddled up at the end of the couch watching The Princess And The Frog. Flynn was on the other end of the couch busy texting Carrie, she had finally found an outfit and was on her way to Julie's house.
Half an hour later, Carrie had gotten to Julie's house. The outfit she picked was a kind of third version of her Dirty Candy outfit, it looked like a combination of the other two outfits. The jacket going with the outfit had an almost rainbow shine to it. Flynn also did Carrie's make-up similar to her own which was inspired by the lesbian flag.
"Alright, make-up's all done, we should get going, don't want to be late" Flynn said getting up.
"But the movie's not done yet" Luke began in a whiny tone.
"We can finish it when we get back. Flynn's right, we don't want to be late" Julie sighed also hoping they could've have finished the movie first
Finally, they were able to leave to go to the pride parade. Reggie, Alex, Willie, Ray, Carlos, Julie and Carlos' Tía Victoria and the rest of Dirty Candy came along. Dirty Candy and Julie and the Phantoms were there to perform and the others were there to be supportive and celebrate pride.
Dirty Candy was performing a song called 'Shining Star' and Julie and the Phantoms performed a song called 'Better Together'. They were both great performances, both Alex and Carrie brought up their partners and effectively came out to everyone while the others cleared up their sexualities.
Everything went great and everyone was happy, until Caleb showed up- no, I won't go that way, this is the end I the fic. I hope y'all enjoyed it
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[INTERVIEW] EXO - 191213 Billboard: “EXO Talk 'Obsession’ Album & Future: 'I Hope that the Name of EXO Can Grow’”
"It’s been seven years since EXO arrived with 2012's MAMA EP, and since then the boy band has spent much of its time atop of the South Korean music scene, with hits like 2013’s “Growl" and 2015’s “Love Me Right” setting them up as a dominant act throughout much of Asia. Last month, they unveiled their sixth LP, Obsession, ending the year -- and the decade -- with both a new sound and a hint towards what the future will bring for the men of EXO.
Fronted by a lead single also dubbed “Obsession,” the 10-track album is bookended by Korean and Chinese versions of the song, which turns the group towards hip-hop-inspired sampling and an intense Auto-tuning, blending their more typical R&B and electro-pop styling with musical elements that at first seem anachronistic and jarring. But it’s the perfect way to set up the story they’re trying to tell.
For EXO, the majority of their musical releases have been tied into fictive narratives revolving around the members and fantastical, sci-fi plot lines, ranging from the extraterrestrial to the supernatural. For Obsession, which peaked at No. 198 on the Billboard 200 chart dated Dec. 14, EXO presented oppositional sides to themselves through a series of teaser images and videos ahead of the album’s release, setting up an epic battle between EXO and their X-EXO clones, which played out in the music video for their single. The song’s apparent disjointment on first listen is meant to go alongside the visual elements, representing a dialogue between the two warring parties.
“Honestly, when we look into a song we think about what kind of performance will work and whether a song will fit the kind of performance we want to put on,” Kai tells Billboard. “So when we heard this song, we thought it was a really good fit in the sense that for the Auto-Tune it matched the idea of the two different EXOs, EXO and X-EXO. The Auto-Tune kind of gives us the vibe of communication between the two different parties having a conversation, so it was a very specific move that we took.” He said he thinks EXO will win the fight, eventually, “Because anytime you watch a movie or read a comic the hero does win. X-EXO is temporary so they’re going to disappear anyway.”
The idea behind the storylines that EXO utilizes to promote their music is to better get their music across to fans -- known collectively as EXO-L -- and also to better relay content in the age of digital media, where visuals are just as important as audio elements. It’s been something the group has been utilizing since their earliest days, and each member has supernatural powers associated with them that often are featured in their branding. “We’re not just a group that sings and dances,” says Chanyeol. “For people watching us, of course they know the storylines are fake. But like watching a movie, it's another way for people to fall for us more deeply. It gives people a back story about how we were formed. Our storyline isn't just incorporated into our music or videos, but it's incorporated really well into our concerts as well. We do feel that it really allows people to become properly immersed.”
Kai and Chanyeol are two of six EXO members that participated in the album, alongside Baekhyun, Chen, Sehun, and Suho, following the enlistment of Xiumin and D.O. in South Korea’s military, fulfilling the country’s mandatory draft requirements, and Lay focusing on a solo career in China. The six other members are expected to similarly enlist and take temporary hiatuses from the industry in the near future.
The new dynamic has given EXO’s members opportunities to explore different sides of themselves, and Chanyeol says that it’s also opened their eyes to how they work together and cover for one another in case of any issues. Each member "has to pull their weight so whether in singing or dance, there are parts that won’t be hidden,” he says. “It would be a really big problem [if we made a mistake] because it would be really obvious.” For Suho, who is EXO’s leader, the diminishing numbers makes him reflective. “The fact that we’re unable to perform with all the members is a little bit sad, so when we look at old videos we do feel like, ‘Oh, there are a lot of members in the group’ and we’d like to come together as a full group.”
As all able-bodied South Korean men are expected to take time off from their lives to fulfill the country’s draft requirements, EXO knows it will be seeing more such changes in the near future, and the act will likely not look the way it once did for sometime. But rather than dwell on the past, the men of EXO are looking towards the future, and 2019 saw many of them work on alternative projects, where it was releasing solo music, such as Chen, Baekhyun, Xiumin, and D.O., or working with new units, like Sehun and Chanyeol’s EXO-SC and Baekhyun and Kai in SuperM, along with numerous other professional activities. “We’ve received so much love for our units and solo projects, but at the end of the day the most important thing is the team and group’s performances,” says Baekhyun. “The fact that we’re able to show all these different sides to us also allows us to show different sides of EXO as a group and show how diverse we are, and how each of us have our own talents.”
When asked how they feel about their career over the past decade and what they hope for the future, Chanyeol responds that the members of EXO feel that they’re focusing on the present and facing each moment on its own. “To be honest, when we do interviews when we’re working we realize that as a group we’ve become very comfortable. Rather than us having to go out of our way to go do something, it’s become very natural for us. It’s grown with time and come naturally, this sense of maturity.”
Though EXO and X-EXO battle it out over the Obsession album, the duality of the release is also reflected in the members’ struggles to explore their identities as individuals beyond the act: how to be both a member of EXO and a man in his own right. As EXO have grown in their career, they have also grown up: youngest member Sehun debuted as a teenager but is now 25-years-old. Unfortunately ill on the day of the interview, he was silent throughout much of the discussion and his health hung over the act like a cloud, with frequent references to how, as they get older, they need to take care of themselves better. “These days, seeing that our physical health is part of our workload, I feel that a healthy life, health in general, is very important,” says Baekhyun. “Rather than thinking about more of what we can do to grow as a group, I feel that we all have begun to focus on seeking individual happiness. Right now, a lot of our focus is on how each person is able to find their own happiness and health, and use that when we come together as a group to move in the right direction.”
Suho echoes this, saying that their branching out as individuals beyond the group is a way to take care of themselves as individuals after years of focusing on the collective well-being. “In the past, EXO’s schedule didn’t allow a lot of individual talents to be focused on but starting from the beginning of this year we were given the time to really focus on ourselves, whether it was internally or externally. It’s not just us as a group, but I think everybody needs that kind of self-care. It was good for everybody.”
Even as they focus on themselves, the group is still the focal point of EXO’s identity. “We came together, got very close, and without the passion that we had as a group I don’t think we would have made it as far as we have come,” reflects Baekhyun. “When it comes to being satisfied, as people I think that we’re never 100% satisfied.” This passion towards improving and always seeking something closer and closer to perfection, but recognizing that is impossible and that there is always something more to be done, is emphasized by the members’ responses when asked what their obsessions are: Kai says he’s a workaholic, and Chanyeol says his competitive nature is to the degree that it could be considered an obsession. (Meanwhile, Baekhyun’s obsessed with games, and Kai jokes that Sehun is obsessed with alcohol, as it is well-known he’s one of the group’s members who enjoys drinking.)
One place where Chanyeol at the very least is satisfied in is EXO’s music. “When it comes to our music, I’m 100% confident that we release quality music,” he says with pride. “It’s almost like we’re not following trends but we don’t fall back behind either.” He and Sehun tried to push their artistic side in a new direction with EXO-SC’s What a Life EP in July, and there was a bit of a negative response from some fans over the title song’s music video, which featured the pair partying it up with female dancers. But he says it’s all good, as there’s no moving forward without trying new things, and it’s always good to hear differing opinions. “We wanted to do something drastically different. You could say it was so completely different from what EXO typically releases. It was a very dramatic challenge for us, and even though there was some backlash from fans, for me personally it was a big motivating factor, that I need to show more new sides and that there are many new challenges to take on.”
It’s important to EXO that their audience takes in all the different sides to themselves that they have to offer, and Chen says he hopes that listeners recognize that there’s a difference between an artist releasing a single and an album. “If you listen to the whole album beyond ‘Obsession,’ you’ll recognize that all of the songs are good,” he says; his personal favorite is “Groove.” “I feel that there is a tendency that people just listen to the title track, but it would be really great if people can listen to the whole album because every song is really great.”
Moving forward, EXO knows they’re shifting into a new era of their career, but they express a desire to always remain as one. “I hope that EXO is able to continue just the way it does right now, but beyond the group I hope that each individual member is able to find his own happiness,” says Baekhyun. “We may not go on music performance shows all the time in 10 years, but we hope that we can release albums here and there. In that we can all live our own lives and come together, happily, as a group.” He pauses, and adds with a wry expression, “I think that in 10 years, hopefully we’ll be able to release something like a ballad or an R&B-heavy song where we can just stand around rather than dance.” Other members quickly jump in and refute this though. “That’s not EXO’s thoughts, that’s Baekhyun’s thoughts,” Sehun says with a laugh, while Chanyeol adds that he hopes EXO is “a very cool group” 10 years down the road; Kai adds that he would like to continue dancing as long as his body allows for it.
“As time passes, like our members, our fans are going to start pursuing their own lives as well,” says Kai. “As they fall into their own lives, when they suddenly have a thought of EXO, I hope that one thought that comes to their mind is, ‘It was a really good memory being their fan.’” Suho echoes this, repeating “A good memory” in English with a nod of his head. Baekhyun agrees with this desire for their time together with fans to be thought of warmly, but follows up with the suggestion that the idea of being a memory, while heartwarming, is limiting. “I really hope that we aren’t a group that is remembered as a group that’s part of the past, because when you think of that you think about these groups that don’t really promote and they don’t really do anything as a team. I hope that, whether individually or as a group, we continue to promote and that the name of EXO can continue to grow.”"
Photo links: 1
Credit: Billboard.
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