#fuck what are others pls add ur favs
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love it when books go from take out (murder) to take out (dating)
#to kill a kingdom#belladonna#kingdom of the wicked#the shadows between us#gideon the ninth#culpa mia#enemies to lovers#enemies#lovers#fuck what are others pls add ur favs#uhh#oh!#drarry#dramione#fuck what else#ahhh#i give up add them in tags if u so choose#i’m sorry#(i’m not)#whoa i should stop tagging this#okay#bye
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heyyyyy!! just wanted to start by saying i legit love ur writing so much ur one of my fav TH authors and i legit love seeing and reading ur stories. THEY R SO DAMN GOOD :)
anyways here the request if ur comfy lol IVE HAD THIS IDEA FOR SO LONG AND I NEED SOMEONE TO DO IT PLS QUEEN
soooo basically like 2017 soft dom tom and like we r in a car driving and like reader is rlly horny and hes teasing her LIKE CRAZYYYYY and resting his hand on her thigh and stuff and whispering dirty stuff to her giving her small neck kisses and pecks and like other teasing stuff (LOL IDK WHATEVER U WANT JUST SHIT TONE OF TEASING) and then when they get home he completely ignores reader and acts like it never happened and just acts normal and goes to watch tv on couch but then reader gets RLLY CLINGY and comes over and THEN STARTS TEASING TOM ON COUCH and like reader whispers stuff to him and neck kisses and the tom gets rlly nervous and then he gives up and like eats her out till shes BEGGING HIM TO STOP (so like some overstim) and then they fuck and yeah just smut smut smut. and tom and reader with praise kink and lots of dirty talk pretty pls. <3
HAH SORRY THAT WAS KINDA LONG AND DETAILED BUT YEAH ITS LEGIT MY DREAM STORY. pls only write if ur comfortable but yeah u can add whatever u want that would fit with the story and YEAH PLS MAKE IT GOOD!!! (u will ur amazing) yeah thankyouuuuuuuuu <3 :)
DESPERATE - T. KAULITZ
synopsis: you can’t contain yourself, basically throwing yourself at tom. he knows it, but wants to make you wait as long as he can, and it drives you crazy. but, he makes you realise that you should be careful what you wish for.
content: smut
a/n: thank u so much anon i’m glad u love my work, and i hope this lives up to ur expectations. also never written for older tom before so thanks for being my first req to write him🙏
he saw the glances i sent his way, the way my legs squeezed together, palms becoming a little sweaty. he noticed my breathing becoming a little erratic, teeth sinking into my bottom lip, feet tapping impatiently against the floor. he knew exactly what i wanted. but, even when i leaned over, running my hands across his inner thighs, closer and closer to his clothed dick, he kept his eyes on the road, knowing that he was driving me crazy, and he liked it.
“thinking of ordering pizza for dinner. you down?” he asks, completely ignoring my hands which are now directly over his crotch, and my eyes on him, filled with desire. he knows exactly what is doing, the slight smirk tugging on his lips telling me that, and i know that he won’t give up his little game yet. i am in for a long night, my eyes set on feeling him inside of me, willing to do literally anything to get that satisfaction, completely aware that he isn’t going to make it easy for me.
but, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease me either.
“mmm, i’d rather have you instead.” i mutter, knowing that he heard me.
we stop at a red light and he turns to me, his eyes dark, a familiar look of lust present within them. that same smirk is still on his face as he slowly leans over, planting a slow kiss just below my ear, his breath tickling the skin as he whispers into it. “who says you can’t have both?”
my eyes widen, the heat between my thighs only increasing, his words quickly causing me to become flustered, my cheeks flushing a light shade of crimson. he sees this, a small laugh escaping his lips as he plants soft kisses at my neck, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the harsh metal of his lip ring as it dances around the skin of my neck, my head tilting to the side to give him better access. his actions are abruptly cut off by the sound of a horn behind us, tom’s head shooting upwards, the traffic lights already having turned green.
he quickly adjusts himself, flashing me a quick wink before pulling his head out of my neck and beginning to drive away. my eyes focus on his hand on the gearstick, the way his veins flex, fingers tightly holding onto it, wanting nothing more for them to be moving inside of me. as if he had read my mind, he removes his hand, placing it onto my thigh, letting it travel further upwards, moving closer and closer to the place i need him most, his head still facing the road as he looks blankly at it as if he isn’t teasing me to the point that i could scream.
he moves his hand flat against me, and my body jerks in shock, his fingers slowly rubbing my clothed clit, he sees the reaction he gets out of me by doing this, smiling to himself before abruptly moving his hand away, returning it to its previous position on the gearstick as i whine in frustration.
“baby why’d you stop?” i sigh, placing my hand over his and trying to move it back over my heat, but he refuses, keeping it set on the gearstick.
“stop acting so impatient, liebe, or you know you won’t get anything. be good for me and maybe i’ll give you what you want, you just gotta wait till we get home, mhm?” he taunts, watching the way i quickly nod my head, smiling at my obedience, placing his hand back on my thigh, torturing me as his thumb begins slow movements over it.
so i stayed put, trying to distract myself literally however i could, the drive home seeming like hours as each second wasted time, time that could be spent with him inside of me. the teasing never stopped, tom kissing my ear, neck, collarbone, cheek, anywhere his lips could access whenever we stopped at a red light, promising that he’d give me what i so desperately needed once we got home. so i held on, restricting myself, his words keeping me going, acting as motivation as the reward of holding back was completely worth it.
a sigh of relief escapes my parted lips once he turns onto our driveway, my hands scrambling to undo the seatbelt, literally unable to contain myself at this point. tom however, takes his time, not stepping out of the car until i have reached the front door, unable to get in as he pulls the key from his pocket, slowly unlocking the door. i expect him to move onto me the second we walk in, pushing me against the wall, attacking me with kisses, showing me that he meant his promise, but he does the opposite.
he slowly kicks his shoes off, walking into the kitchen as i stand there, pissed off and feeling completely let down. i join him in the kitchen as he stands on his phone, leaning against the counter, a smile forming on his lips once he sees me walk in.
“what pizza do you want babe? i’m feeling like pepperoni.” he utters those words so nonchalantly, as if the things he had said to me, the way he had touched me in the car were all figments of my imagination. i mumble a small ‘get me anything, i don’t care’, before trudging to the living room, sexually frustrated, completely done with his teasing.
he joins me soon after, patting my thigh gently as he sits beside me, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the channels as if i wasn’t sat next to him, bored and desperate. i had reached my breaking point.
“tom…” i trail off, leaning towards him, my lips pressing open-mouthed kisses against his neck, taking note of the way his breathing begins to quicken, knowing that i am slowly getting to him. but he doesn’t show it yet, his expression still blank, eyes still set on the tv in front of him.
“baby…” i mutter against his skin, my hand reaching for his crotch, palming him as a low groan emits from his now parted lips. he shuffles in his seat a little, adjusting himself and clearing his throat. still nothing. i reach underneath his t-shirt, my fingers tracing his abs, feeling every muscle, lips still attached to his neck. he doesn’t give in, keeping me waiting, which only frustrates him even more, but i can feel him slowly giving in, only motivating me more.
“please, i promise i’ll be good…” i slowly say, looking upwards at him before climbing onto his lap, straddling him as he has no choice but to look into my eyes. “i’ll be so good…”
i repeat my words, dipping my head so that it is underneath his chin, kissing his neck once again, sucking gently on the skin as i try to leave marks. but i am not finished yet. i slowly begin to grind against his clothed dick, moving back and forth at a teasingly slow pace. it doesn’t take long for his hands to grip at my hips, completely stopping my movements. bingo.
“so fucking impatient.” he mumbles, switching us around in one swift motion as he lays me on the couch, moving on top of me and messily colliding his lips with mine. “couldn’t wait at all could you, hm?”
i say nothing, too busy focusing on the way his lips move against mine. he clearly isn’t wasting anytime as i feel his hands move to my leggings, hooking his fingers around the hem, tugging them and my panties down, raking them down my legs and throwing them carelessly onto the floor. my own hands scramble for his t-shirt, taking it off of him and letting it find the pile of clothes on the floor, my own t-shirt and his pants following, only his boxers between us.
he reconnects our lips as a quiet ‘please’ escapes from my mouth, wanting more than just a kiss, having waited all night for this.
“please what? you know you have to use your words schatz.” he teases, his forehead against mine, waiting for me to speak.
“need you to touch me.” i whine, my hands finding his neck as i play with the loose strands of hair, watching the way he nods his head, seeming satisfied with my answer.
he crawls downwards, kissing each part of my body as he does so, nipping gently at the skin, enjoying the way my breathing is fast and heavy, low whines escaping my mouth. he reaches my inner thighs, still planting small kisses, one hand on each leg as he forces them both apart, letting his head rest in-between them, stopping his motions and looking upwards at me, his eyes meeting mine.
“you sure?” he asks, knowing full well what my answer is, using his breath to ask such a pointless question, knowing that it will only get me more riled up.
“yes tom just- fuck! touch me, ple-.” i sigh out, my pleading soon cut off when i feel his tongue delve into me, my mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as i my hands find their way into his hair, pushing him further into me.
“oh my god!” i cry, feeling his tongue hit all the right spots inside of me, knowing that it won’t take long for the familiar knot to form in my stomach, his teasing meaning that the smallest of touches had the biggest effect on me. he groans against me, the bass in his throat sending a vibration through me, yet another moan spilling from my lips, his name never being said this many times before.
his pointer finger finds its way to my clit, rubbing slow circles whilst his tongue continues to drill inside of me, my release building up inside of me.
“getting close. don’t stop, oh my god please don’t stop!” i beg, my hands lost within the thick strands of brunette hair, the previous tidy bun messy thanks to me, but he didn’t seem to mind, only focused on feeling me get to my end.
his tongue touches my g-spot, a high pitch moan unlike no other i had uttered coming from the back of my throat. he picks up on this, directly hitting that spot over and over, my vision clouding, eyes rolling to the back of my head, way too lost in pleasure to process the fact that the knot in my stomach had released, tom swallowing all of my juices. i expect him to stop, my chest heaving up and down, coming down from my high, every part of me sensitive, but he keeps going at a fast pace - if not quicker than before.
“too much! can’t take it.” i breathe out, my thighs squeezing against his head, careful not to apply too much pressure, but he only smiles against me, completely ignoring my pleas.
“you wanted me to touch you.” he mutters into me, replacing his mouth with his fingers so he can speak more clearly. “so that’s what i’m gonna do schatz.”
and he sticks to his words, his tongue moving back inside me, the overstimulation quickly taking over, my entire body jolting when he hits the sensitive spots inside of me, unable to take the pleasure.
“please…i can’t…too much…”
my words are incoherent, not able to form full sentences as i feel another release building up.
“not stopping until you say the word baby.” he mumbles against me, referring to our safe word that i have only had to use once. he knows that i won’t say it, secretly enjoying the pleasure despite the pain that comes with it, taking all of it in. “you can give me one more, doing so well.”
i take in every single word of praise he gives me, using it to work through the pain, focusing on the pleasure, using it to guide me to my release, my eyes squeezing shut, head falling backwards as it takes over, my back arching off of the couch, this one much more powerful than the last. he swallows everything, planting a few kisses on my lips as i wince, completely spent. my body lays limp on the couch, his moving upwards so that he is hovering above me. he kisses me softly, his thumb reaching upwards and wiping a few tears that i hadn’t even realised had fallen.
he sits up, taking his boxers off, stopping them at his knees, not even bothering to fully remove him. he lifts my body, sitting me on top of him so i am straddling him.
“you did so well baby. you think you can handle just one more, for me?” he asks, running his hands up and down my hips, watching as i tiredly nod my head, a small smile spreading across his face.
i position myself onto him, slowly sliding downwards as he fills me up.
“fuckkkk.” he drags out, his head falling backwards and resting on the top of the couch, his hands tightly holding my hips, fingers digging into the flesh.
i stop about halfway, feeling completely full, not sure how i will be able to take all of him. he sees that i am struggling, kissing my cheeks gently , moving down to my collarbone.
“you feel so good baby, keep going, you’re almost there. shit- so fucking good.”
low groans escape his mouth as i nod my head, continuing to sink onto him until i am fully sat on him, my mouth dropping open, wincing a little at the pain, his fingers nothing compared to the size of him. i place my hands on his chest, trying to steady myself as i begin bouncing up and down, tom moaning loudly, his hands never leaving my hips, watching me move on him.
“so fucking tight, oh my god…” he sighs out, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as i speed up my movements, whining as he hits a totally new angle, never feeling so good, so full before.
his forehead glistens with sweat, muscles flexing every time he squeezes my hips, his fingers leaving marks into my skin, but i don’t complain, the feeling only increasing my stamina. my walls clench around him unconsciously, tom groaning whenever i do it, the feeling only bringing him closer to the edge.
“just like that.” he groans, his voice deep. “yeah, shit baby- feels so good.”
after my two orgasms, it doesn’t take me long to become tired, my movements slow and sloppy. my body collapses onto his chest, frustrated as i am getting close, unable to get there myself. he notices this quickly, beginning to thrust upwards into me, loud moans echoing throughout the room as i try my best to meet his movements, rotating my hips a little, feeling him deeper inside me than i ever have before.
“i’m close. don’t stop.” i manage to say, messily colliding his lips with mine, his tongue exploring my mouth whilst his strokes remain strong and deep, hitting all the right spots.
“me too baby.” he mutters between kisses. “almost there, you’re doing so so well.”
his dick twitches inside of me as he thrusts in and out a few more times, before his cum shoots into me. his head quickly falls backwards, eyebrows furrowing, mouth falling open as a long groan falls from it, his release triggering my own as i clench around him for the last time. he thrusts a few more times, riding out our highs, our heavy breathing and skin slapping together the only thing sounding throughout the quiet room.
he kisses my lips once more, pulling apart as his forehead leans against mine, arms holding me within his embrace, skin pressed together.
“you did so good meine liebe. took me so well.” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath as i am unable to respond, totally worn out, my body weak as it rests in his for support.
his lips gently kiss my forehead, one hand running through my hair whilst the other gently strokes my back, his breathing calming down as he utters sweet nothings in my ear until i fall asleep within his embrace, completely exhausted.
requests are open! keep sending them in!!
#tom kaulitz#tokiohotel#kaulitz twins#tom kaulitz angst#tom kaulitz smut#kaulitz#tom kaulitz fluff#tomkaulitz#tom kaulitz x reader#bill kaulitz
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I was playing Genius Invocation yesterday, but out of nowhere this idea came to me like tge whispers of an old god.
How would the characters react to knowing they are the creator's favorite card? (Mine are Beidou and Ningguang, but if you are confortable, I would like to know yours as well)
AHDAALLL I HAVENT PLAYED TGI CARD GAME ENOUGH!! SO FOR NOW I RLLY LOVE THE WAY CYNO AND KAEYA'S ART LOOKS (tho diluc does look shmall in his hehe)
Thank you for your patience!! Sorry this is SO FUCKING late :0 and if it’s bad! i havent rlly liked my writing the past couple pieces, so i stuck with some fun headcanons i thought of while kicking me feet and twirling my hair over this question hehehe
Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them only)
Planet: General SAGAU/Isekai Stuff :)
Orbit: Headcanons
Stars: Beidou, Ningguang, Kaeya, Cyno
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing & Trigger Warnings: None Known.
☆
Beidou:
BIGGEST EGO BOOSTS OF HER LIFE LMAO
SHE WOULD LITERALLY SUBTLY FLEX EVERYTIME UR AROUND IM CRYINGGG
Every fucking port knows she’s a favored one, every goddamn pirate knows it atp, hell maybe even some abyss monsters at sea too-
(Kazuha’s happy for her, but also lowkey jealous)
literally got one of her cards framed and hung in her captain’s quarters, and insisted you sign it omfg-
Ningguang isnt surprised tbh, (she knows u like strong women lol)
Ningguang:
…she gives one of the most smug smirks of her entire fucking life.
All of Liyue is gushing for her, not that she isn’t also excited on the inside, she’s just more proud than anything on the outside/for appearances
Literally set up a whole date meeting that felt like it was about to turn into a goddamn wedding proposal
I’m talking giving handcarved furniture, household necessities but they’re in pretty colors that all match (like a gold tea kettle, gold throw blanket, etc.)
Full nine-yards different kinds of teas, cakes, and all accustomed to your taste
so if u dislike super sweet stuff there are more savory items, the teas can be more bitter, or if u love sweets, this woman is giving you a bakery basically every day for nearly 2 weeks, u dont have enough space in the cabinet for all these teas- help-
Kaeya:
so fucking smug on the outside, def brags about it in Angel’s Share and he’ll only just be tipsy he’s so fucking excited to talk abt it
whenever conversations end or get a lull, he just, “So anyway, our All-Powerful Guide, really likes my TCG card, maybe even above yours, Diluc…”
pls stop him he’s annoying Diluc, and slowly other patrons 😭 (there are bar rules posted on the wall, and Diluc adds one, not for the first time, specifically for Kaeya to stop talking about TCG while in the bar LMAO)
Now all Kaeya has to do is just pull out his card (cough he’s constantly got it in his pocket, the one he asked u to sign cough)
Rosaria just looks the other way like if she can’t see it it’s not real, Diluc will literally be in the middle of making a drink for one of them and just leave it halfdone and attend to somebody else, Venti’s eye twitches-
and the entire bar just groans too LMAOOO
(have a meme I made just for you <3 )
Cyno:
oh no.
Look what you’ve done, you’ve seduced the General Mahamatra!!
Take responsibility, play TCG with him every time you see him now lmao, the only reason all of Sumeru knows you like his card (which makes it all that more desirable to ppl who do play, and collectors)
is bc he talked to Tighnari about it for hourssss, and then it made it’s way down the grapevine, and if they didn’t find out that way, the other was just seeing the usually stern and formidable General Mahamatra nearly vibrate out of his headpiece when you come near him every time you visit
Cyno weirdly gains like, 20x the luck when ur either playing against him, or sitting watching him play someone else, he’s struggling to find partners tbh bc “you’re my lucky charm? Of course I’m winning more.”
When you initially told him about him being one of ur fav cards, he literally looked like there was a loading sign over his head… Then proceeded to nearly break your ribs hugging you so hard, and nearly take ur eye out with the ears on his headpiece lol
☆
Sorry if all my writings shit for these past 2 posts! Idk im just thinking its not so good rn and idk how to fix it-
anyway I’ve started playing Breath of the Wild over the past like 2-3 months I think, and it’s amazingggg
I may or may not be both getting gender envy and also a huge crush on Link help-
Safe Travels Wandering Lantern,
💀♒
♡the beloveds♡
An iced coffee? For me??
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche
#hello i bring more bad writing#kinda short this time#hope u dont mind#love u guys have a good weekend!!#thank you so much again for the ask and sorry again it was so late!!#genshin sagau#genshin isekai#sagau#genshin imagines#my asks#gender neutral reader#genshin impact sagau#genshin impact isekai#genshin fluff
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hi there
this is a blog for the whole “not s&p approved” thing that alex hirsch posted (explanation here if you don’t know what s&p means). i thought it would b funny 2 make a blog for it. feel free to send in asks with characters and i’ll make them not s&p approved; you can send as many as you want in one ask, or just a bunch of asks. heads up that im not very consistent with posting so pls be patient </3
i will NOT do requests for h*rry p*tter characters so don’t even try. fuck the bigoted books. i won’t do any minecraft smp characters either (content creators are fine). there are probably others that i won’t do too, and i’ll add as time goes on, for now i’ll just delete asks about them or answer them saying i won’t do them. but most media is fine
call me mythos, ae/ve/it/they pronouns please :) anything that isn’t a request will be tagged #it speaks
@yourfaveislgbtandtheresnothing @yourfavhasautism @yourfaveisaprideflag @your-fave-says-lgbtq-rights @your-fave-hates-post-plus @your-fave-has-an-account @your-fave-t-poses @your-fave-is-your-favorite @urfavhatesterfs @urfaveisdisneysfirstgaycharacter @urfaveistransandplaysminecraft @ur-fav-blue-hair-and-pronouns @ur-fav-drinks-respectwomen-juice tagging for attention, if you don’t wanna be tagged lmk and i’ll remove it :)
dni if queer exclusionist, transmed, sysmed/anti endo, terf, racist, islamophobic, or otherwise hateful at all. i don’t have the energy for a full dni at the moment
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I HOPE YOU NEVER HAVE TO TAKE THE BUS AGAIN CUZ THIS JUST SOUNDS SO ANNOYINNNGGG
I LOVED EVERY SECONF OF THE YANGYANG FIC BOTH CUZ OF THE STORY AND THE SONG CHOICES!!!! awsten being a guitar teacher is just such a weird thing imo like i would've never imagined that about him ngl :o but now i see the fic in a new light might reread it once more later in the week🫢
I LOVE LOVEJOY SOOMUCH AND ITS SO RARE TO FIND SOMEONE WHO ALSO DOES!!!! (THAT IS ONE OF MY FAV PARTS FROM THE FIC!!! LIKE THE LOVEJOY LYRICS TOOK ME BY SURPRISE) perfume is one of their best songs istg!! i'm so glad tommy convinced them to release it!!! i was(and still am) such a diehard mc youtuber fan;-; wilbur and tommys vlogs are just so funny!! i'm glad they led u to lovejoy cuz their music is truly amaziiinnggggg;-;
aespa are so amazing i'm so excited about their upcoming album all of the songs sound like such a bop!! U SOULD CHECK OUT BEABADOBEE I HAVE BEEN IN LOVE WITH HER MUSIC SINCE SUMMER SHE IS SO GOOD!!! I RECOMMEND HER VERY MUCH!!! AND I HOPE U WILL ENJOY HER MUSIC AS WELL
HIHIHI OFC I LOVE 5SOS🫢🥰 tbh when i realized how many of the same artists we both listen to i was like this person was meant for me💆♀️i love ur music taste so much!!!! and i will check out wallows cuz i listened to a couple of their songs before that were popular but i never really checked them out so thank u💞💖💓 (i'm an avid listener for both chase atlantic and the driver era as well🫡) wahhh i will check out baekhyun too i always see his name but i never listened to him!!! (and the way u wrote that made me laugh so hard, i hope u will win against haechan some day don't give up the fight🤞)
i'm so scared to recommend cuz they might not be ur taste in music😟buuttt some of my fav songs atm: kár by elefánt, macskák by elefánt, bálnák by dzsúdló, sprint by dzsúdló, na mindegy by carson coma, porszem my carson coma (and tbh i recommend anything by carson coma i feel like they would fit ur music taste the best if u happened to like any of these)
i may happened to be from hungary yesss🫣so hi neighbor🥳🙋♀️
(IM SORRY FOR WRITING THIS MUCH I KNOW U PROBABLY DONT MIND BIT I STILL FEEL THE NEED TO SAY SORRY - liebestraum anon💕)
I PROMISED TO MYSELF TO NEVER FEEL PRESSURED TO DO SO EVER AGAIN HAHAHA.
AAAAH thank u sm for saying that!!! awsten being a guitar teacher is a weird concept i agree but it strangely fits?? also i remember him saying he used to teach 5sos songs which made my heart so happy AHAHA anyways perfume is literally the best song ever and lovejoy slap idc what anyone says. tommy deserves the whole world for convincing them to keep the song i owe him my life AHAHA you being a mcyt fan is so valid of you. i had my mc phase when i was younger (mainly bc i have an older brother so we played together) so i was big on my slovak/czech mc youtubers back in the day HAHA but nowadays i dont watch many youtubers tbh,,, i WAS a big sidemen girlie tho DJFKLA i still watch their vids sometimes. also the uk commentery scene back in the day had such a chokehold on me that i still follow will, alex and memelous on instagram lmaoo
DID U SEE THE CLIPS FROM AESPAS CONCERT ningnings solo killed me. i love that girl w my whole heart and thIS ?? if they dont add the solos to the album im gonna riot
i havent had time to check up beabadobee but i promise to do so soon and then give u a report!! if u have any favorite songs from her pls send them my way!!
GIRL WE ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER our music taste matches so well what the fuck this never happened to me before AAA YOU EVEN LIKE THE DRIVER ERA????????? ross lynch was my first ever celebrity crush and im afraid to admit that he has the same hold on me now that im almost 20 than he had back when i was 9. i dont know ALL wallows songs btw im more of a casual fan but the ones i know are so good omg. also baekhyun!!! my kr&b king!! pls listen to his music he is such a good vocalist AAA (i dont think im winning against hyuck any time soon tho >:()
also im now listening to the songs you recommended so let me give you a live reaction. kár sounds very very vibey omg i love it actually ???? went straight to my playlist i love the synth?? macskák has very edgy depressed vibe i love it too omg?????? in my playlist you go. bálnák sounds like a nct dream b-side but in hungarian i stan. very very vibey. sprint has a very good beat!! its enjoyable to listen to but not really my vibe tbh. na mindegy is sO FUCKING GOOD WHAT ?? you were right this is truly my vibe i added this to my playlist too omg. porszem towards the end when it gets louder?? slaps. my favorites were definitely the first two and then na mindegy !!!!!
hello neighbor hhhh im slovak <33 (if you didnt know already bc i slap it to everyones face LMAO)
dont apologize for writing so much i really enjoyed talking abt music w you!!!!!! <33
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Blueberries or raspberries? Eating an apple whole or in slices? Swimming or sunbathing? Watching TV on the or on your laptop in bed? Balloons or confetti? NYE or Christmas Eve? Concerts or plays? Carnivals or amusement parks?
HOW IS MY FAVOURITE PERSON IN THE WORLD DOING? HOW'S UR DAY BEEN? FULL DEETS PLS
youre asking me, a berry lover, to choose just one??!? *gasps scandalously* jk it's raspberries
slices!! i get full quick so in case idw to eat anymore, i can just put the slices back in fridge ^^ + the taste of half eaten apple after being left is not exactly my jam
swimming! havent done sunbathing but i dont exactly see a reason why i should do it..? not that ik how to swim though.
tv!! but tv is in the living room n my parents sort of watch what i watch so 😶 laptop i guess
CONFETTI!! i love getting slapped w thosw little colourful thgys!! (not sarcastic btw) the cleaning is a bit 🤕🤕 but idm!
i dont celebratw christmas but i somehow prefer them over NYE hh idk i just get excitef seeing the decorations n families n or friends spending time together on a chilly day
havent went to both so i cant decide yet 😞
carnivals! theyre more varied! i think.. n usually its not as loud as amusement parks so 😩
fav person in the world 😭😭 what did i do to deserve this much love.. anon what the fuck, i love you so much :((
anw nothg happened today so ill talk abt yesterday bcs its pretty eventful 😍 in a bad way 🥴☹👎 (rant, u dont have to read this btw) got scolded first thg when i woke up bcs i was late telling them what i want for dinner n i get that theyre mad but then again, it wasnt my intention to order late bcs i was... idk sleeping?? duh. 💀 n they were bejng excessively mad. also i did less house chores than i usually would yesterday bcs i wanted to relax a bit but ofc my dad who mind u does the least had the most to say abt it 😁😁 n it sucks that me, the oldest, afab child has to do more than others to be considered a good job like its not even funny atp. n then got cursed at the road, that one was my fault bcs i was out of it due to thw above, it still adds to the shitty mood though. n yeah.. ☹😶👎👎 (you can start reading here 🥰) yesterday was shitty, so shitty. and then i saw ur asks n felt like crying bcs wow, u just lighten up my world again :(( but idw to answer while i was in all that space yk, so thats why i waited until today 😊😚 also had a super long talk w my friend last night n they also made me so happy ☹💖 so thankfully, it was less shitty going to bed last night thanks to them and you so thank you :)
SO ANON PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOUR DAY WAS OR IS WHEN U READ THIS >:( I WANT TO KNOW ABT URS TOO >:((
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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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I GOT SO MUCH TO SAYYY!! gosh pls dont find me weird okay, and these are just my personal opinions and im not hating any groups!! but my unpopular opinion is: i think kpop has become very toxic after bts and bp got famous in America. And tbh if you ask me, i wouldnt want any other kpop groups to be famous in America... i only stan exo but i think i speak for all groups when i say they are safe as they are now... of course if exo ever get even more famous i will be happy and proud for their success. But look how fame and America has changed bts and bp... not tryna hate but look theyve changed, idk if anyone else noticed but after fame hits bts, i realised how theyve start to become very...white?? like they are so westernised and like example, they start focusing on America only, they even curse (not a lot but i’d still point out) casually like for example, jungkook singing a curse word in his cover song for jason derulo savage love i think (speaking of cursing, after nct127 got famous in usa mark started getting influenced by them too and he casually cursed like “oh fuck” and everyones like 😃😆) even i curse and im not saying cursing is BADD but yeah i am, and how they sing a whole song in english, not to even mention how toxic america is but in grammys they have sold tons of albums yet they didnt win anything but when they release an english song, they won.
Some half of them americans are very toxic, racist, and just theyre basically acid, like bruh, its evident that once bts got famous there are soooo much hate thrown towards bts too cuz theyre asians, or how some would say theyre gay or look like girls...if my favs (exo) ever get these kinds of treatments (not that they dint but veryy little cuz thank god they ain exposed to the western culture) i will B R E A K, i could never handle that so i would never want that to happen to them. Also noticed how, after bts got famous, most armys are equally as toxic, whether they are just stanning bts just cuz theyre famous there, or like how their fans dont even know anything abt bts and coming after so many groups and their fans. Most of them are fake and i think its cuz of the fame for bts lmao. One thing i’d like to say too tho, is how they are so overrated and their songs are played all the damn time, people would randomly talk abt them, like everywhere you go THEY ARE JUST THERE, like in my opinion if i am an army, i would just feel like they are so common and theres nothing special about them anymore and theres no excitement, like what even is the point anymore. idk if anyone gets me but thats just how i feel about my favs being “wOrLdWiDe fAmOuS”, i will love them and their music but its just something i think about tbh🤷🏻♀️ like let me listen to them on my own and vibe and love them, dont play it 24/7 just cuz they are famous and ure tryna get people’s attention, like imagine ure in the subway and u hear ur favs song cuz its EVERYWHERE and ure there like 😐😐 not that u dont love their music but its cuz horrible people dont deserves to listen to their songs, and like people arent going to appreciate them anyway so yeah i feel uncomfortable listening to my favs as others dont even bother, like imagine if that subway is filled with people who are in ur fandom, yall would just hv the best time in the world and VIBE, if not what even is the point. Idk if im explaining it properly, but its badically like, u feeling UNCOMFORTABLE or should i even say SELFISH cuz u do not want to be sharing ur favs with people who dont even deserve to KNOW about them. Basically like seeing how someone you HATE or bullied you back then talking and being all friendly fake with ur BESTEST FRIEND or even boyfriend/girlfriend, cuz u just want to protect them from EVIL (im so dramatic)
And well lastly, no Bts did not paved the way, or “bts is the best and only group” like no, so many amazing artists were breaking records way before bts was even a thing (no hate to bts) but they really need to get slap for having that mindset, they really make a bad image for bts...tbh kpop before was so peaceful (a little toxic but still, compared to now...BYE) and everything was just about idols and fans love, listening and supporting and loving their music and just so comforting... urgh anyway thats all i wanna say and here are some texts i saved relating to kpop groups going famous worldwide uwu
these are also examples, and honestly speaking here, i dont want to be specific as in “exo” cuz i think this happens for ALL the groups out there and the love and relationship between the idols and their fans (family) are just beautiful, but for bts and armys... tbh i feel bad because i just dont see or feel any love they hv for each other (sure we see bts saying i love you armys or armys supporting bts but with all the toxicity in their way, theres just no spark or chemistry or bond no more it’s basically like one direction and their fans and thats all they are, celebrity-fan, but for kpop its family), i can see other groups and their fans interacting or how idols would light up talking abt their fans, but for bts, theres just soooo much mess going on in their fandom its not special anymore, they lost the deep meaning of their group love and IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT but YEAH DJSHSKSJ OH and to add somethign else, they got famous in America, look at all the collabs🤡🤡 blackpink with cardi b, bts with nicki etc... not that collabs arent fun... im just saying these american artists... they dont exactly have a good reputation (americans singing about sex (not the good kind), money, girls and drugs) 🥴🥴 dont influenced my faves and let them be exposed to the toxic culture YALL GET ME?? KPOP HAS THE LETTER K FOR A REASON😭😭😭 let them be their own shining star, not everything has to be involved or a part of aMeRiCa to be amazing.... PHEW IVE SAID IT NOW BEFORE ANYONE GETS MAD AT ME, I DONT MEAN TO SOUND RUDE TO YOU, if youre an american and youre no where near being toxic, I LOVE YOU but im just saying, the western culture is toxic and im just saying what ive been observing and noticing🙇🏻♀️🙇🏻♀️ ps: i still love exo till the max and everything about them is perfect and theyre just amazing people (everything i said that bts and armys dont really have anymore, i think thankfully, EXO (sorry im biased) most fandoms still have so much of the L O V E there and i find that extraordinary) and he fandom is so comforting and amazing and idk dkdjjdjss thats why i dont want them getting famous worldwide...sorry exols ANYWAY THATS ALL FOR MY RANT ITS 4AM AND I AM THINKING OF DELETING THIS💀💀💀 anywya sorry for taking up so much space but i just wanna say I FREKAING LOVE NO EXIT, NO LIMITS, basically all ur exo fics cuz why not🥺🥺 i think ur writing skills are amazing as well as the plots and all especially forsaken, and THANK YOU for two bbhxoc fics😭😭😭 i cant!!! also if u reached here idk i-🥲 i hope u didnt get mad or offended 👀
Reply under the cut!!
Kpop has become extremely toxic with the growth of international fans and the rise of 3rd/4th gen. I wasn't around to experience the previous generations, but I know damn well they weren't a mess like these newer ones are.
Gaining fame in America does seem to change idols, and idk why. The group members change and the music changes also. While I do enjoy hearing idols swear (guilty pleasure) and I am an American so I get to enjoy their English songs, I can see how it makes all the other cultures/countries feel some type of way.
I will say this, though, the Grammys are shit and I dont get why people care so much about them. They've proven time and time again the awards don't go to the best artists. However, this doesn't mean that I think BTS deserved a Grammy imo.
Americans are a very toxic and hate filled bunch (again, I am one, so I get to see this shit every day). I 100% know that some of the hate directed towards Asians is because of racism (as seen by the insane uptick in crime against Asian Americans right now) and because some see kpop male idols as too feminine.
BTS is literally everywhere, which is one of the reasons I stopped listening to them tbh. They'd be in commercials, on talk shows, late night shows, in magazines, on the radio, just everywhere. It took the joy out of watching anything from them just because they were always in my face, so I can see what you mean.
I feel like the relationship between BTS and army has changed (from an outsiders perspective). Its no longer about loving and supporting your group and being happy for them. Now, its "so-so wants this? We MUST do everything in our power and spam every possible thing ever so they get what they want". Its almost frightening. They also no longer care about the quality of the music being put out. Doesn't matter what it is, they stream the ever loving shit out of it and make it break records when, honestly, it doesn't deserve to (again imo).
Lastly, I didnt get mad or offended haha. I understand a lot of these viewpoints, and thank you so much for liking my work!! I do wonder what would happen if I made a true BBH centric fic and not just spin offs or continuations of previous works where oc ends up with BBH 🤔🤔 I think that fic would have too much power haha.
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Not Nineteen Forever (19) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega
a/n: hi pals! so this was probs one of my top 3 fav chapters to write out of the whole fic. it’s got so many things that i just love, and i so hope u will love it too. i should probs make it clear that this isn’t the end of the fic! it’s going to have 21 chapters, so there’s two more to come after this (omg only 2????? bitch wtf???? WTF???). thank u guys for all the love my ask box gets flooded with after every chapter, i’m always so so excited when i see it so thank u so much, i really appreciate it!! here we go with n19f19 xoxo
please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!
summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.
last chapter: there were confessions of love in a karaoke bar.
this chapter: a month on from the events of last chapter and with final exams and dissertations looming, Brooke thinks she can avoid Vanessa until graduation without having to confront anything that’s happened between them. this proves difficult when she’s trapped in the library with her.
***
Brooke was fine. She was more than fine, actually, she was good. She was calm, serene, fucking zen. If it wasn’t for the dissertation she had to hand in a week from now she would have ascended to Buddha-like status, doling out study tips to her friends like proverbs.
Brooke had always been good at exams. She’d been a straight-A student back in Canada, the whole process of revision coming naturally to her. She’d bought designated ringbinders for every subject, poring over textbooks and copying information out in messy cursive until she’d filled her whole refill pad. When she’d walked into the big assembly hall on exam day, she didn’t get the usual churning of her stomach or shaky hands that her friends had always described. It was almost as if the hall reminded her of taking ballet exams when she was a girl- she knew what to do, she had all the information in her head somewhere, and all that was required of her was to think and write.
Essays, however, had never come easy, which was a shame as they essentially formed the basis of Brooke’s degree. There wasn’t the fast-paced element to essays as there were to exams, and lengthy deadlines gave Brooke time to overthink, redraft, panic, delete, then do the whole process over again. She’d never fully got the hang of them; add in the fact a different tutor marked what she’d written every time and her grades were practically a lottery. She knew this element would follow her throughout her career- writing, fashion design, God even her ballet exams from years ago- it was all a form of art, and art was subjective. She knew there were designers out there that were universally respected, but none were universally liked. Nothing was universally liked. In an exam, there was a set of right or wrong answers, but essays were open to interpretation. An interpretation that her degree classification depended on.
Stretching and feeling her spine bump against the hard plastic chair, Brooke let out a huge breath. She could still see her Mum’s face if she remembered hard enough, when she’d told her her very first mark on her very first uni assignment back in first year; the way the woman’s face had faltered a little but forced a smile and a congratulations. It was the first mark below 70% Brooke could remember in a long time, and her Mum’s disappointment still stung. Brooke was currently sitting on a 2:1, but only just. Her dissertation was going to cement what degree she received and Christ, Brooke would be lying if she said the pressure wasn’t getting to her ever so slightly. It was at the stage where she was taking a beta blocker each morning before spending most of the day in the library. Sometimes she’d take another in the afternoon if she felt herself starting to panic. Maybe that was the reason she was so chill.
Looking at her laptop and the block of black text against white digital paper, she rubbed her eyes and glanced through the huge floor-to-ceiling pane of glass to her left. Her own sleepy face gazed back at her, the view rendered invisible due to the pitch black outside. Brooke didn’t dare look at the time, but she knew it had to be late if it was this dark at the end of April. Casting her eyes to Nina, she couldn’t help but give a snort of a laugh.
“What the hell are you doing?” Brooke asked, looking at the exploded rainbow of colour-coded flash cards that were strewn across the girl’s desk and spilling out onto the floor. There were scribbly neon post-it notes stuck all over her laptop screen and Nina probably had half the library stacked up in high-rise tower blocks on her desk. A quick glance at her screen showed Brooke that Nina had roughly sixty tabs open.
“My goddamn best.”
Brooke let out another laugh as Nina gestured helplessly at the mess in front of her. “Jesus Christ, Brooke, how the hell am I going to be a teacher if I’m this disorganised?”
Brooke gave a little shrug and raised her eyebrows. “I dread to think what your classroom desk is going to be like.”
“Probably going to accidentally kill a child on my first day. Nudge over a big pile of papers on my desk, boof. Dead,” Nina giggled, then let out a huge laugh and instantly clamped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. The action made Brooke laugh out loud too until the pair were having a silent laughing fit in the exact place they weren’t supposed to be making any noise.
To be fair, the top floor was pretty empty given the late hour they were there. The few people that were left were already packing up their things and leaving, laptops shut in a manner of resignation. The yellow strobe lights that hung above gave the whole place a clinical glow, and the patterns on the fuzzy green carpet all seemed to merge into one. As Brooke ran a hand through her hair and was about to check the time on her phone, loud chimes rang out over the speakers built into the ceiling.
“Would all students please be aware that the library will be closing in ten minutes, that’s ten minutes. Thank you.”
Brooke almost jumped out of her skin. She blinked, then looked at the four numbers in the bottom right-hand corner of her screen. “Nina. No way is it almost midnight.”
“God. I’m not even surprised anymore. At this point it feels like we live here,” Nina groaned, cracking her back in a way that made Brooke wince then rolling her shoulders. “I guess we should head back to the flat.”
Brooke’s ears pricked as she heard a commotion from the other end of the floor. It sounded like a thunder of footsteps and a hissed argument. Turning slowly, Brooke’s heart sank as she saw exactly who she’d hoped she’d be able to avoid until graduation day.
Silky and Vanessa were standing at the printer a mere two sets of desks away from her and Nina. Silky seemed to be printing something out and insisting she wouldn’t be long as Vanessa tapped her heel against the carpeted floor impatiently, her Converse almost wearing a hole in the floor. Despite the late hour her makeup was still perfectly applied, and her hair was half hanging loose over her shoulders and half swept up into a haphazard topknot. Brooke pictured Vanessa growing frustrated at her desk, fretting over some form of past paper and tearing her hands through her hair, tugging her brown locks up and securing them with a hair tie. Brooke hoped she wasn’t too stressed about her finals. She remembered that when they were together Vanessa had had some form of big essay due, and she’d sat up in bed exhaling and worrying, typing furiously with her long nails crashing against the keyboard of her laptop like angry waves. Brooke had quietly brought her tea, wordlessly pressed a kiss to her temple, and Vanessa had cast her a soft smile that had made Brooke’s heart set alight.
Just then Silky looked across the room, saw her, and began to wave. Fuck. Brooke watched as Vanessa cast her gaze over to where she sat. Her eyes widened when she laid them on Brooke and she tilted her head to the sky, barely hiding a gigantic roll of her eyes as she followed Silky over to Brooke and Nina. Brooke had in the time it took for the girls to reach their desk to decide how she wanted to play this. It was a tough decision. Because in the month-and-a-bit since their dalliance in the hot tub, and an even shorter time since her crying meltdown to Scarlet in the Swan toilets, Brooke had developed a hard, harsh exoskeleton for herself that involved channeling all the love and regret she felt for Vanessa into venom, poison and dislike. If Vanessa wanted to be petty and unkind and rude to her, then fuck it. Brooke would be the exact same back. She’d tried it out already- responding to thinly-veiled barbs in the groupchat, ignoring her if they saw each other. Brooke didn’t want to act that way, didn’t want to do any of it, but she forced herself to do it in the way a small child had to be forced to eat vegetables; it was what was good for her. Good for them both. It was better that Vanessa hated her. She’d tried loving her and look where the fuck that had ended up.
The issue was, the frosty behaviour she’d return to Vanessa was uncontrollable. She knew it was causing vibes and tension in the group, splitting them all up and causing cracks and fractures in a time where they were meant to be closer than ever. Yvie had had words with her, as had Nina. It hadn’t got them anywhere. Brooke had tried to reach out to Vanessa, offered her so many olive branches that Vanessa had just started beating Brooke black and blue with them. Brooke knew it was for the best if she acted like the complete bitch that Vanessa thought she was.
“Hey, sisters! What you both doin’ here so late?” Silky asked cheerfully as she reached the girls. Brooke stuck a smile on her face, tried not to look at Vanessa and then failed. Her thick eyelashes were cast to the floor as she scuffed the carpet with her shoe. Brooke felt a stab at her heart. Luckily, Nina took over.
“Christ, I was just saying to Brooke it feels like we’ve moved in here. My diss is due on Friday and I’m stressed out of my mind. What’re you guys up to?”
Silky waved a thick stack of paper at Nina as if she was showing her evidence. “We were down on floor one but the janitor’s chucking people out. I needed some readings and figured he’d get up here last, so I just came to the top floor to use the printer.”
“Yeah, and we’re done now, so let’s go. I need to pee before we leave,” Vanessa muttered to her flatmate, her voice dull as she still didn’t tear her gaze from the floor.
Nina’s cheerful smile faltered. Silky, to her credit, looked embarrassed by Vanessa’s sulky behaviour. To Brooke’s dismay, Nina shoved all of her index cards onto her laptop keyboard and slammed it closed. “Well, hey! We were just leaving. We’ll come with you.”
Vanessa’s face twisted into one of discomfort. “Nah, Nina, really, it’s fine. I’m gonna head to the bathroom anyway-”
“We can wait for you! It’s no big deal!”
Brooke’s heart sank. Great. An excruciating walk back outside with the girl that hated her most in the world. Just as she was about to bullshit a reason why they couldn’t, Silky enthusiastically agreed. Brooke watched Vanessa bite her lip in frustration, give a forced fake smile and nod. They were both united in the fact that it was a situation neither of them wanted to be in. It was the closest Brooke had felt to Vanessa in a while.
Nina and Silky filled the silence on their way to the library toilets. They were only beside the lifts so not that far away, but every step felt as if it lasted a million years. Finally, mercifully, the girls came to the toilets and Vanessa ducked inside. As they waited, Brooke just wished and hoped she’d be quick so the awkward situation would be over sooner rather than later. One minute turned into two, and Silky became impatient. Brooke watched as she wrenched open the door and yelled inside.
“VANJ, C’MON! THE PLACE IS CLOSING SOON!” she shouted into the room, muttering under her breath something about Vanessa having a bladder like the Hindenburg. Brooke tried to be patient and cast her eyes up to the ceiling. Looking back into the floor of the library, she was alarmed to find it completely empty, void of people. It could have been that she was startled, but she gave a shout into the bathroom too.
“Vanjie, hurry up! Jesus!”
At this point Vanessa was standing blasting her hands with air from the dryer. She shouted something back at Brooke that Brooke couldn’t hear over the air jets, but she could hazard a guess as to what it was. Finally, Vanessa stormed out.
“Fuck me, will you girls hop off my dick? Can I not pee in peace without you rushing me along? We’ve got ages! It’s fine!”
And then everything was suddenly plunged into darkness.
Brooke gave an involuntary cry of fear, felt someone grab her hand. Looking down at her interlocked fingers and then up to who it was connected to, she was shocked to see Vanessa, her face illuminated in the green fire escape sign and completely petrified. All at once she seemed to realise what she’d done and dropped Brooke’s hand like it was made of hot metal. Nina had fallen silent, her expression one of shock, and Silky was uncharacteristically quiet.
“Fuck,” Brooke found herself saying. Her mouth had gone completely dry.
“It’s fine. It’s fine, they’ll just be turning off the lights before they lock up. Let’s just hurry up and get the lift,” Silky reassured them, but Brooke didn’t miss the worried frown that was set on her face as the four of them walked quickly. Vanessa reached the button first, scrabbled at it with her fingers. The little white light that usually illuminated the panel didn’t turn on.
“Oh my God this can’t be happening,” Nina whispered, her voice panicked and fast. Silky rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but the frown on her face was deepening. Reaching out, she pressed the same button firmly, jamming it into its little metal pad. Nothing. The girls stood in silence for only a few seconds, listening for the metal whirrs and clunks that the lift usually made on its way up or down the building. Nothing came.
“Stairs,” Vanessa said simply, her voice full of worry as she suddenly dashed in the direction of the stairwell. The three other girls followed and all pretence of remaining calm and walking was truly out the window as their trainers squeaked over the linoleum, feet thumping harshly against the steps as they tore down flight after flight. Brooke’s pulse was speeding so fast she thought she would have a heart attack, and the bones of her feet began to hurt more with every step she launched herself down two-at-a-time. Breathless and frantic, they finally reached the bottom floor, Vanessa crashing through the double doors at the bottom of the stairwell and speeding across the lobby to the main entrance. Brooke was hot on her heels, her heart now painful in her chest and her breath coming in thick, uncomfortable wheezes. Any hope she’d had sank to the floor with her gut as Vanessa pounded the automatic doors and almost wrenched the fire door off its hinges in an attempt to get out. It was to no avail.
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Nina repeated, her hands flying to her face as it blanched in fear.
“Fucking shit- HELLO? HELLO? WE’RE STILL IN HERE!” Silky yelled at the top of her lungs to nobody in particular.
“Guys, I don’t like this,” Brooke said, hearing the shake in her own voice as her eyes darted around the huge, dark building frantically.
“No shit, really? I’m having a fuckin’ whale of a time, personally,” Vanessa hissed, casting a glare her way before going back to shaking the doorhandles in a futile attempt to open them. Brooke felt her face curl up in a sneer, all the fear she’d felt previously moved into a convenient little box and replaced with all-consuming anger.
“Ugh, JESUS, Vanessa, of course, of fucking course, we’re literally locked in a uni building with no way out and you choose to start picking a fight with me. Big fucking-”
“ENOUGH!” Nina shouted, Brooke taken aback. She had known Nina for almost three years now, and in that time she’d never heard her shout. Well, she’d heard her shout with happiness or joy or fear, but never anger like this. She felt like one of her primary school kids as Nina continued. “Both of you just shut the fuck up for one fucking minute! Can we at least just find a way out of here before you start a fucking domestic?”
“I’ll take the cafe,” Silky said decisively, shouting to the others as she ran in the opposite direction. “Nina go right, Brooke and Vanjie go left.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes, looking again at Vanessa whose gaze mirrored Brooke’s. Relenting and not wanting to risk another telling-off from Nina, Brooke obediently tore off in the direction Silky had told her to go. She weaved her way through desks and bookshelves, checking every window only to find them all locked. As she was losing hope, the dull, green light of a fire escape sign caught her eye. Brooke sighed with relief as she tore towards it. This was surely a guaranteed way out. Reaching the tall door, Brooke slammed her hands on the cold, metal bar that lay across it, pushed down, and waited for the cold night air to hit her face and calm down her panic.
Nothing.
Brooke frowned, trying again and pushing harder at the bar. This time she got her shoulder involved, leaning all her weight against it. It didn’t so much as budge.
“We’re outta luck. They’re all locked from the outside.”
Brooke turned to see Vanessa walking purposefully towards her. Her tone was frustrated, but not towards her at least. Brooke felt relieved. She was beginning to regret snapping at Vanessa earlier, even if she was meant to dislike her. She wondered if she felt as scared as she did. Brooke thought about how Vanessa always hid her fear, remembered the time they watched some shit, gory horror movie at hers when they were together. Brooke had flinched and squealed and buried her face in Vanessa’s hoodie every two seconds while Vanessa had laughed at her, told her it was all fine and fake, but Brooke could feel Vanessa’s heart beat fast in her chest and her stomach muscles tensing every time a new horrific sight appeared on screen.
Vanessa leant against the bar that Brooke had tried, punctuating it with an angry kick of her foot. “That shit’s illegal, you know. Locking a fire door. We could sue fuck outta them.”
Brooke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Yeah I’m sure we, twentysomething students with collectively hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of debt, have both the resources and the influence to sue the university. They’d shit themselves.”
She watched as Vanessa looked at her, a glare about to appear in her dark eyes, then disappearing as she allowed herself a small smile and a single snort of laughter. There was a pause of silence. Brooke decided to fill it. “Let’s find the girls, maybe they found a way out.”
As they passed by the floor-to-ceiling windows again, Vanessa suddenly gasped and tore off to bang on the glass. Brooke followed her eyeline and was overjoyed to find what looked to be a janitor, finishing up and walking away from the building. She joined Vanessa and pounded her fists against the window, shouting randomly if only just to make a noise. Her hope began to die, however, when instead of noticing the absolute cacophony of noise the girls created, the man simply got further and further away. Brooke watched as he got his phone out, a long earphone cord attached to it. She slumped against the glass and let out a helpless moan.
“Fucking shit bitch ass motherfucker!” Vanessa hissed in anger, pounding on the glass with her knuckles one last time. Brooke watched as she took a step back from the window, flexed her fingers and gave a hiss.
“You okay?” Brooke found herself asking. She could already feel herself frowning in concern as Vanessa nodded briskly, shaking her hand out and sticking the knuckle of one finger in her mouth.
“Fine. Just got a lil’ over-enthusiastic, cut my finger,” she spoke around her knuckle. Brooke felt a pang at her heart. She took a step towards Vanessa.
“Let’s see?”
Vanessa gave another laugh, harsher and more sardonic than her first had been. “It’s fine, Brooke, I don’t need you to kiss it better.”
Brooke held her hands up, unable to help the way her eyebrows flew up her face. “Okay, I’ll just go fuck myself!“
“Yeah, do that,” Vanessa muttered quietly, sitting on a desk beside the window and pulling her legs up to cross them. Brooke, in lieu of snapping back at the girl she’d once called her friend but had never called her girlfriend, did the same. They sat in a hostile silence, thoughts running around Brooke’s mind as to what she could do or say. So many options flooded her head that it was hard to see any of them clearly for what they were. It turned out she didn’t need to give any of them that much thought, however, as Nina and Silky soon appeared from the other end of the building.
“Oh, good! You’ve not killed each other,” Nina said brightly upon her return. Brooke snuck a quick look at Vanessa, then rolled her eyes.
“Guess you’re as shit out of luck as we are?” Silky asked, her voice quieter than usual by at least a few dozen decibels.
“Can you believe they locked the fire doors? Fuck them, man, imagine there was a real fire?” Vanessa spat bitterly. Nina sighed heavily and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“We could try calling someone?”
Brooke frowned. “Who could we call?”
“The police?” Nina said immediately, her naivety causing the others to burst out laughing.
“And say what?! Hey listen, we know you’ve got murderers to catch but we’re locked in a uni building, could you bring round a big battering ram and knock the door down?” Brooke laughed, not missing the way Vanessa laughed in response and feeling a twinkle of pride light up in her heart.
“Well, could the fire brigade get us out?” Nina suggested, Silky groaning and pulling her hands down her face.
“Nina, you need to lower your expectations of what an emergency is. Four dumb uni students trapped in the library is not gonna be considered an emergency. We’re not in danger, we’re all breathing, and none of us have been set alight. That counts the big three out immediately.”
“What about a locksmith?” Vanessa shrugged. Brooke screwed up her face.
“Ah, for those locks that automatic doors have on them,” Silky deadpanned. Brooke laughed at the comment, clearly a little too loudly because Vanessa was back scowling at her again.
“Hey, they do so have locks, bitch.”
“I don’t think you can ask a locksmith to open a house that isn’t yours,” Nina frowned. Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.
“I love my house, the university library.”
“Shut up! You knew what I meant,” Nina protested, as the other girls gave a laugh again.
“Surely there’ll be some phone number online for the janitor or something?” Brooke thought suddenly, Silky quickly taking out her phone to check. There was a moment of silence as the girls held their breath in hope. Finally, Silky let out an overjoyed cry.
“Cleaning supervisor main area- based in central library! Yes ladies! We’re fucking outta here!”
Brooke smiled so hard that her face hurt as Silky held her phone to her ear. Thank God. The nightmare was over, she could go back to her flat and not be literally trapped in a building with her ex. She would soon be-
The four girls jumped as a faint ringing of a phone could be heard from out in the lobby. For the hundredth time that night, Brooke felt her heart sink.
“I don’t really know what we expected from that,” Vanessa sighed, looking every inch the kicked puppy.
It was quickly decided that their last hope were the girls who weren’t in the library, although this went down the drain fast as it was discovered that Yvie was over at Scarlet’s flat and they were both asleep, neither Akeria nor Monet were picking up, and Plastique had gone home to revise.
“What about Monique, Vanj? Could we try her?” Nina asked. Brooke was confused at the way Vanessa’s face twisted in discomfort, a little line setting deep on her forehead.
“Nah, she, uh…she won’t pick up,” she said simply, Nina nodding quickly and neglecting to ask any more about it. It didn’t stop Brooke from being intrigued.
“What the fuck are we gonna do, then? We can’t just spend the night here,” Silky’s voice was disbelieving. Brooke gave a resigned shrug.
“Silk, I don’t think there’s any alternative. It’s only a few hours, the place’ll open up again at six. We can go upstairs and sleep in those little pods they have for group projects. Then by the time we wake up again, it’ll be morning and we can all go back to the flat,” Brooke explained calmly, although inside she still had a lot of anxiety rattling about and the dark of the library wasn’t helping.
The girls reluctantly agreed that it was probably the only thing that was left for them to do. In nervous silence they climbed the stairs to the first floor, where Silky immediately set up camp in one of the pods, stretching herself out along the seats that had once been cushioned but had been flattened by hundreds and thousands of sets of bums over the years. Nina took one and set her laptop back up again, arguing that she’d actually been on a pretty good streak before she’d had to pack up and wanted to see if she could churn out another thousand words before she went to sleep. Brooke peeled off from the girls and took her own pod, her tall body unable to fully fit along the seats. As she attempted to sleep, one thing kept stopping her as it usually seemed to around this time of day. She sighed, tossed and turned as she thought about Vanessa. It had all gone so badly wrong. The more she tried to get her off her mind, the more memories she was reminded of. Hurting Vanessa was easier than loving her; snapping at her and being snarky made Brooke feel bad and a bit of a bitch, but loving her and torturing herself for what an idiot she’d been made her feel ten times worse, as if her heart had been removed from its sheath in her ribcage and been stomped on, kicked about, stabbed with a blunt knife and dragged through broken glass. Any attempt to sleep was futile. Brooke’s eyes hurt with fatigue as she sat up, rubbed them and stretched. She would go and see if Nina was still awake, maybe sit up and annoy her for a while.
As she crossed the floor she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye. Vanessa was sitting on the floor by the window, her legs crossed and eating a packet of crisps she’d managed to procure from somewhere. Brooke thought she looked so tiny compared to the huge pane of glass and the world that sat outside of it. Now that the lights were off, Brooke could see every detail that lay beyond the window- the soft yellow glow of the streetlights that faintly illuminated the park beside the library, the pink and white marshmallow cherry blossom trees that lined each path. A memory shot through Brooke’s mind like a lightning bolt- the eight of them in second year after their exams had all finished, having a barbecue in the park as the sun beat down and frazzled them all to a crisp, the smell of sausages and weed carried on the light breeze and the warmth in Brooke’s heart as Vanessa had teased her about something, the girls all laughing at Brooke’s embarrassment and protests.
God, they’d all been so happy.
Without really knowing what her plan was, Brooke walked over to where Vanessa was sitting and sat down cautiously beside her. The other girl looked at her, as if she was deciding whether to glare or smile. She ended up doing neither.
“Can’t sleep either?” Brooke chose as her opener, immediately regretting it for the cheesy line from a film it was. Vanessa gave a sarcastic chuckle, gestured around her.
“Apparently,” she said simply, Brooke looking at the carpet and kicking herself. There was a moment where the cogs in her brain whirred quickly, trying to come up with something else to say. Vanessa surprised her by speaking again. “I ain’t been sleeping too good lately anyway, though, so. I guess it don’t matter.”
“Me neither,” Brooke felt something click inside her, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she spoke again. “Vanessa, we need to talk.”
Vanessa kept her eyes trained on the pane of glass in front of her. “We are talking.”
“God, Ness, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” Brooke sighed, her face pleading. Vanessa’s head snapped round to face her and her eyes were what could only be described as murderous.
“Hard? Don’t fucking dare talk to me about hard,” she said, slowly and carefully and causing Brooke’s heart to frost over in fear. “This year has been shit, absolute shit, the shittest year of my life. You broke my heart- no, fuck that. You broke me. I had to take my goddamn feelings and put them all back together again, start from scratch while you swanned about absolutely fine. I am having to fight to get my average up because of the days I spent in my flat crying instead of going to lectures. Do you have any idea, Brooke, what this has been like for me?”
Brooke was silent as Vanessa continued relentlessly. “And then I finally got myself to a place where, hey, maybe I could be friends with you again! Then what happened? All the old feelings came back, didn’t they, and then we fucking…slept with each other and-”
“Hey, no,” Brooke jumped in, frowning and unable to listen to what was to come. “Don’t try to pin that on me, Vanessa, that was all you. It wasn’t me that fucking…straddled you in the hot tub and stripped off and talked about the sex I was having with other girls, was it?”
“Oh, no! You’re right. You’re correct,” Vanessa smiled sarcastically, soon getting replaced with a scowl. “You only got with me incredibly intensely in front of seven of our closest friends, who knew all the shit that’s gone down between us and watched like a fucking soap opera.”
“Well I didn’t hear you complaining at the time!” Brooke bit back, causing Vanessa to fall silent and play with a thread of her ripped jeans. Brooke let out a breath she’d been holding, took in a huge gulp of air. “Look, this is…this is off to a bad start.”
Brooke watched Vanessa’s throat move as she swallowed, her eyes cast downwards. Brooke was good at holding in her feelings, bottling them up like her life depended on it. She was terrified of feeling too much. She had no idea how this conversation was meant to start, but she knew she had to have it.
“Vanessa, I am sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but for what it’s worth, I am. I’m sorry for going about everything the wrong way. I’d never…done anything like this before, never properly seen anyone like I was seeing you, so I didn’t know how to behave. And fuck, maybe I was leading you on, and I’m sorry for that too. I just didn’t know what I wanted. Well, I thought I knew what I wanted but then I just…didn’t any more. I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t realise how much you liked me until it was too late,” Brooke cut herself off, sighing and feeling a bubble of sadness rise up in her throat. “Fuck, I’m trying to put it all the way I want it but nothing’s coming out right.”
Vanessa was looking at her, she knew it, but Brooke’s gaze had dropped to the floor. She brought her knees up to her chest. There was so much she wanted to say to Vanessa but none of the sentences she constructed in her head seemed to be sufficient.
“That night. You said that you missed me,” Vanessa’s voice was soft and small as she spoke, stripped from all the venom it had held before. “Did you mean it?”
Brooke jumped in instantly. “Yes.”
Vanessa was now looking at the floor, picking at her shoelace. “And did you mean…as a friend, or…just the sex, or…”
Brooke took a deep breath. I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. The words were so close to coming out, but she stopped them. Now wasn’t the right time, nowhere near the right time. She tried to think about what the perfect response would be, sighed, scrapped it, and decided to just simply speak. “I miss you as…everything. I miss you as whatever you want to be to me. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. I just miss you for all that you are, the person you are. I miss us,” Brooke paused, realised her last remark was slightly risky. “Interpret that…however you want.”
Brooke snuck a gaze at Vanessa. A thought struck her as memories ran round her mind, and now she had started talking it seemed she couldn’t stop. “Do you remember after we…after lazerquest. Yvie’s birthday. We met up and we spoke about things and you said something. That whatever happens, we’d be friends always. Do you remember?”
Vanessa gave a little laugh. “You can wear a set of armbands in a current, don’t mean you won’t drown.”
She saw Brooke’s confused look, shot her a bashful smile. “I never expected to…end up feeling so strongly for you at the start. Didn’t expect to get as crazy about you as I got. Man…I wish you could turn feelings off.”
Brooke felt herself frown, a deep regret settling in the pit of her stomach. “I wish that too.”
She didn’t miss the brief look of surprise that flashed across Vanessa’s face. In the lull in conversation that followed, Vanessa wordlessly pushed the packet of crisps towards Brooke. She took one. Chilli heatwave wasn’t her favourite flavour, but it was a peace offering, and she’d take what she could get.
"So I stopped sleeping with Monique,” Vanessa commented, shrugging a little. Brooke blinked, almost choked on her crisp as she raced to get a reply out.
“Uh, yeah, I did notice you were a bit weird about things when Nina said you should call her.”
Vanessa pushed some hair out of her face, puffed her cheeks up with air and blew out harshly. “Monet kinda told me…she was catching feelings, and obviously I wasn’t there for that. So I said to her we shouldn’t keep going.”
Brooke felt a little twinge of pain for Monique. The poor girl had a crush and was just caught in the crossfire. “And how did she take it?”
Vanessa stared through the glass, her gaze steadfast. “I could tell she was sad. Disappointed. She didn’t start cryin’ or nothing, but…God, I still felt bad. I liked her, you know, she was a great girl. Maybe there’s a parallel universe where she took my heart and patched it all up again and we ended up together but…that’s not what it was for me. And the more she said she understood and that she hoped I’d find happiness, the worse I felt for having to tell her I wanted something different.”
Brooke nodded. She wanted to tell Vanessa that she knew the feeling all too well, but she didn’t want to interrupt her. Vanessa turned her head slowly, finally making eye contact with Brooke, and her eyes were the softest they’d been in a while. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is…I know now what it must have been like for you to break it off with me. And yeah, it completely fuckin’ wrecked me but…you did what you had to do. So…I forgive you, Brooke Lynn.”
Brooke couldn’t quite believe Vanessa was in front of her saying all this. Instinctively she wanted to launch herself forward and hug her, thanking her for her change of heart. Just as she’d convinced herself she was almost going to do it, Vanessa spoke again. Her voice held a slightly more steely note to it now. “But I don’t forgive you for kissing me or for that night in the hot tub. That really fucked with me.”
Brooke fought the urge to snap a childish you started it at her and instead said a soft okay. She also fought the urge to reach out and place a hand on top of Vanessa’s. The building was still pitch black and silent and the girls had reached a conversational purgatory. Vanessa had forgiven her for some of her mistakes at least. This was the closure Brooke had wanted. Despite herself, she found herself opening her mouth. There was so much still unresolved.
“You must kind of hate me for that."
Vanessa snorted, tilted her head to the sky. "I do and I don’t.”
A small silence. Brooke knew what she wanted to say, knew what topic she wanted to breach, but it meant plunging head first into the icy chill of the great unknown, and as much as she wanted to talk about it she was terrified of doing so.
“Is that because part of you loves me?”
It was out before Brooke knew it. Vanessa had frozen, her body unmoving with her head still positioned towards the ceiling like a terrifying Exorcist yoga pose. Brooke could immediately predict it, could practically hear it- Vanessa’s quick, sarcastic response, don’t flatter yourself, her getting up and thundering away to another part of the building in some angry game of hide and seek. She couldn’t face any of those options, so Brooke continued talking. “I was in the bathroom at the same time. In the next stall along from you and the girls. I heard you say that you never got to tell me. Did you mean it?”
“Why are you asking me this, Brooke? Is it to add insult to injury? Is it not enough knowing that the girl you broke it off with can still come crawling back into bed with you so easily, you have to rub salt into the wound by getting me to fucking…” Brooke heard Vanessa take a big deep, shaky breath, felt the tears prick at the corners of her own eyes. “…admit that I’m in love with you, yes, okay? I love you. What’s the reason?”
“Because I…fuck,” Brooke jumped in then immediately stopped. She felt her jaw wire itself shut, almost paralysed with fear. She didn’t know if she could verbalise everything she was feeling. “I’m not good at talking about this stuff.”
“No shit, Miss Marple,” Vanessa quipped bitterly, her eyes back looking at the carpet and avoiding Brooke’s gaze. The lack of eye contact helped Brooke. She carried on.
“You know, I used to lie in bed before I went to sleep and rehearse what I would say to you to tell you I liked you,” Brooke gave a laugh, remembering when things were more simple. “Except none of it worked out that way. And now I’ve actually got a second chance at it, I’m almost too frightened to say it. I completely fucked it with you, Vanessa. You’re an absolute one of a kind person. Your smile just makes me happy whether or not it’s directed at me. The love and loyalty you have for your friends makes me proud of you. You’re so determined and hard working and you’re smashing your degree. And you’re kind. You see the good in everyone and you’re not afraid to feel and tell the world all about it. All these things that I just…love about you. It took me being away from you and making the biggest mistake of my life, and that night when we were together like everything was back to normal, it took all of that to make me realise that I’m…fuck..”
Brooke almost hadn’t realised she was crying until a sob bubbled up in her throat, almost choking her. It was almost like her body’s survival mechanism, trying to save her from the potential rejection she might face once the words were out.
Fuck it.
“I’m in love with you. I love you so much that it scares me. It scares me more than being fucking…trapped in the library in the pitch black with no way out,” Brooke let out a hybrid of a laugh and a sob. By now, Vanessa had lifted her gaze to look at Brooke, and Brooke had shifted hers so she could protect herself from Vanessa’s reaction. “Because I don’t want to hurt you again, and you deserve better than someone like me.”
“Then don’t,” Vanessa said quietly.
“What?” Brooke whispered, confused. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper over her hands and jammed them under her eyes, used them to stop the tears from escaping.
“You said you don’t want to hurt me again. Then don’t,” Vanessa repeated patiently. Brooke blinked. She had no idea what that meant, so she went with the knowledge she had at hand.
“I love you, and you love me,” Brooke said softly, finally meeting Vanessa’s eyes. “Can we…do something with that information?”
Vanessa let out a loud blast of a laugh, making Brooke giggle even though she didn’t know what was funny. “God, that’s the most Brooke Lynn Hytes way of asking me out ever. Can we do something with that information.”
Vanessa’s smile was infectious. It lit up Brooke’s heart and she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her gently, to make Vanessa hers properly this time. As her smile faded though, Brooke felt her hope fade too. Vanessa let out a world-weary sigh. “Brooke, I don’t…I don’t know if I can do this all over again.”
Brooke’s heart dropped to the floor and shattered. She wanted to say something, fill the silence and reassure her, but nothing came out. She had opened up, and it had all been for nothing. This was her karma- she had broken Vanessa’s heart and now here was Vanessa breaking hers. She felt crushed. Lacking the energy to do it properly, she nodded her head once, the action small and probably barely noticeable.
It was so quiet that Brooke could hear Vanessa swallow beside her, hear her breathing deeply to calm herself down before she spoke. “You never hear it in the movies but sometimes…sometimes love isn’t enough, you know, sometimes you need to put yourself first, and sometimes the person you love ain’t necessarily the one who ends up making you happiest.”
Brooke felt her chest grow tight, felt ashamed as her head hung to the floor. She saw two tears fall from her eyes and drop onto the carpet, making identical, miniscule ponds.
“But then also,” Vanessa continued, the but aspect causing Brooke’s heart to dip and soar upwards as if it was on a rollercoaster. “I love you for a reason, don’t I? The way that you say shit that’s all sarcastic and funny. The way you make me laugh. The way you’re always blunt and truthful, and when you say nice things to me it feels like you’re just saying a fact. The way you got this childish, immature streak to you that makes everything feel like an adventure when I’m with you. You listen in the best way, ‘cause you never try an’ force advice down anyone’s throat. You’re always so concerned about everyone you care for and want them to be happy…and even though you ain’t good at expressin’ it, I know you have feelings and I know they scare you. You’re like a fuckin…model, you’re so beautiful and perfect. So that’s as simple as it has to be, right?”
Brooke looked up and saw tears in Vanessa’s own eyes. All the honesty was so raw and painful, like burnt or grazed skin, and it hurt and stung as if it was real. It was real. Brooke hid a sob, took a deep breath. “I don’t, uh. I don’t know where we take this.”
“I want to be with you. I want to love and be loved, feel my heart fuckin’…burst like it’s made of confetti,” Vanessa continued, letting out what could have been a sob or a laugh. “But I want to be happy. I don’t want to be hurt again. I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too,” Brooke nodded, feeling the tracks the tears were making down her face. She sighed, the pain in her heart too heavy for her to carry. “Fuck, maybe we’re just not meant for each other, maybe we got our chance already. Maybe nothing should come of this-”
“But, fuck, I love you, Brooke! And you love me,” Vanessa sighed in exasperation, her mascara collecting under her eyes as her own tears continued to fall. “And that…that means something.”
“I love you,” Brooke repeated, in case it counted for anything. It meant the world to her. Vanessa gave a sad smile, reached out and took Brooke’s hand and laced their fingers together. She squeezed Brooke’s hand twice, and the simple gesture made Brooke hopeful that everything was going to be okay.
“Shit, I waited so long to hear you say that and now it’s like…” Vanessa began sadly, trailing off. Brooke didn’t push her to finish her sentence. Instead, she squeezed her hand like Vanessa had done with hers. The action seemed to work as a prompt, because she spoke again, tilting her head with curiosity. “What do you want outta all this?”
Brooke knew immediately. “I want you. I want us to be us again.”
Vanessa let out a soft sigh, paused. “Okay, well. I don’t know what I want right now, Brooke. An’ it’s gonna be hard to start again. So you’re gonna need to give me time to decide.”
“That’s okay. I’ll wait for you. You can take all the time you need,” Brooke reassured her instantly. “I’ll still be here.”
Vanessa’s hand shifted in her own. Brooke watched as she frowned a little, cast her gaze her way again. "You mean that?”
“I mean it. Whatever you decide. Whether we’re worth an extra chance or not. I’ll wait for you.”
A small smile crept onto Vanessa’s face as Brooke waited for her reply. “That’s the most romantic shit anyone ever said to me.”
“Well, it’s just the truth,” Brooke muttered, feeling her cheeks grow hot and glad that the dark room would hide her pink blush. Then, getting an idea and feeling a little spark of that childishness and immaturity Vanessa seemed to love so much, Brooke let go of Vanessa’s hand and held out her other one for her to shake. The other girl looked at her, a funny, confused smile on her face as she took her hand and shook it obediently.
“Hey. I’m Brooke Lynn,” she began, trying to suppress her smile as she spoke. Vanessa giggled, falling back a little then leaning forward.
“What are you…”
“Starting again. What’s your name, beautiful?” Brooke teased, all the darkness somehow bursting into colour as Vanessa laughed beside her, swatting her on her arm with her hand. She hadn’t seen this Vanessa in so long; happy, laughing, cheerful and playful. Brooke could’ve cried with how much she’d missed her.
“This is some dumbass shit, you know that?” Vanessa giggled, but Brooke could see the blush on her own cheeks illuminated by the streetlamps outside. Vanessa appeared to see her expectant face, laughed a resigned laugh and indulged her. “Nice to meet you, Brooke. I’m Vanjie. Well, Vanessa, but everyone calls me Vanjie.”
“Can I call you Vanessa? It’s pretty. It suits you.”
Vanessa laughed again, making Brooke give a chuckle too. “Bitch! You never flirted with me this hard the first time.”
“Well the first time we were friends, so I couldn’t flirt with you. Not properly like I wanted to anyway,” Brooke laughed, taking a Dorito and throwing it at her playfully. Vanessa squealed, toppling herself out of the way. “You, on the other hand, flirted all the time.”
“I’m a flirtatious person! You shouldn’t have taken that shit personal,” Vanessa protested, attempting to look offended but unable to wipe the smile off her face.
“So Vanessa,” Brooke carried on, trying to stop herself smiling as she carried on with the charade. “What are you studying?”
They carried on like that all through the night, being silly and getting to know each other again right from the very beginning. They had missed out on so much conversation over the past few months that it was actually nice to catch up, to re-establish herself in Vanessa’s life. She was looking at graduate jobs in events management for after uni and thinking of moving home to save money. For a fleeting moment Brooke almost suggested that they move in together but she was glad she had the sense not to verbalise that, a thought that was perhaps better bottled up and saved for another time. After all, Vanessa hadn’t even decided if she wanted to be with Brooke or not yet. Brooke had to cling on to the hope that maybe she would, because she had nothing else. Well, that was a lie. She had Vanessa’s smile and her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes when Brooke made a deadpan comment. She had the way Vanessa opened up to her, told her how scared she was of trying to navigate the world on her own after she graduated. She had the way that Vanessa shuffled close to her when the sun eventually began to rise, its glow a burnt orange ombre into a soft yellow which faded into the gentle blue of the morning sky. She had the way Vanessa’s head fit perfectly into the crook of her neck as, worn out and exhausted, she closed her eyes and dozed off in Brooke’s tentative arms.
Most of all, she had the fact that Vanessa loved her, and Brooke loved her back. And even though it hadn’t been the movie scene confession Brooke had been expecting, that fact, the sunrise, and Vanessa sleeping softly against her chest was enough for her for the moment.
#rpdr fanfiction#not nineteen forever#n19f#ortega#branjie#scyvie#ninex#brooke lynn hytes#vanessa vanjie mateo#lesbian au#college au#university au#nina west#silky nutmeg ganache#s11
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tw: pictures of food that may or may be fear foods
but also some pro recovery shit! fuck eds!
SO TODAY I SAID
FUCK U
TO MY BRAIN N WEIRD EATING BEHVAIORS AND TOLD MYSELF IMMA EAT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON TODAY (or as normal) AND TRY TO LISTEN TO MY HUNGER CUES, AND IF U DONT FEEL EM, EAT A BIT ANYWAY, U PROBS NEED IT, AND IF U EAT A BIT N U KNOW UR NOT HUNGRY, TELL URSELF ITS OK
Also just a reminder to y'all food is a necessity, not a reward 💕 yalls important n beautiful
IM SORRY IM TRYING TO ADD A READ MORE LINE BUT THE FUCKING TUMBLR APP GIVES SHIT FORMATTING AND I CANT EDIT IT ON MY LAPTOP BC ITS DUMB AND SO PLEASE IF THIS IS TRIGGERING PLS SKIP OVER
I ATE HALF THIS BURGER. IT TASTED OK, NTN SPECIAL, BUT I DO LOVE KETCHUP
I ATE SOME OF MY FAVORITE FISH + SOME RICE N MY LEFTOVER SPAM ONIGIRI I MADE A BIT AGO
I MADE MILK BREAD TODAY, I ATE SOME W WHIPPED CREAM N FROOT (mah favs, mango n banan n strawberry ✨)
I MADE THESE STRANGE LOOKING CHOCOLATE DONUTS TWO DAYS AGO, I ATE ONE LEFTOVER
AND TODAY WAS THE FIRST TIME I RLLY HAD ANY FOOD FROM OUTSIDE SO FUCK YEAH I GOT BOBA. COCONUT STRAWBERRY WUZ THE SHIT TODAY. tho I wish there were better boba places in my area, but this place isn't too bad!
so yeah hopefully you take this as some positivity ✨ did I feel great? Nope. Deep down I know I'm scared of recovery, even though I know something is wrong and I need to fix it. Ive always been scared that recovery = "letting myself go." And the fact that I gained weight during my remission period just confirmed it. But I didn't consider all the other factors going on in my life that contributed to it. Ive been refusing even just trying to believe that where I'm at with my weight is okay. Constantly I feel like I do and dont deserve to feel like I'm fat. There's too much to consider in this mess. But what i do knownis thag I don't want to tell others get better when even I'm not putting that effort to get better myself. We all know its a lot of work and it's exhausting, but we can't give up. I've been keeping secrets from the ppl closest to me again and last time it happened I rlly hurt them. Hopefully I'll try to improve so that I don't keep spiraling down like I have in the past and repeat cycles of remission/relapse. I'm lucky enough to have people support me, and I take them for granted and refuse to reach out because I know that im supposed to "get better" when that's the last thing I wanna do. Why do I cling on so desperately to something i both love and hate, and all it does is make me suffer. I pray that you have others you can rely on, have resources available, etc. because you deserve and need help. And if you got nobody else to turn to Im always here to listen.
sorry this was long I went on a rant ahaha I could probs say more or edit this but I'm too lazy
i don't mean to offend anyone, all our experiences r v different and there’s no easy solution to any of the things we face. I wish there were better ways and answers. But first we must be open to them. I know that some day we'll all eventually feel okay 💕 and I can't wait :)
#Tw#Tw eating disorders#Tw food#Eating disorders#Marmars thots#Long post#Ana#Mia#Binging and purging#Binge eating disorder#Recovery#Relapse#Pro recovery#But not#Pro ana#Pro mia#Not pro just using tags
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Fun Young Justice Fact!!
I straight up c r i e d during the S1 episode Coldhearted but not for the reason yall think. I've seen MANY discussions and reactions but not ONCE have I seen any love or recognition given to my boi in Coldhearted
THIS IMPORTANT DOCTOR MAN RIGHT HERE. U SEE HIM?? Y'ALL REMEMBER HIM? UR GONNA GET A LESSON ABOUT THIS LOVELY, BEAUTIFUL, INTELLIGENT DOCTOR RIGHT N O W
This doctor (he's the good one, not the goon) isn't named during the show iirc BUT his name is in the credits.
Pieter Cross.
Pieter Cross.
P I E T E R C R O S S
Y'all, Pieter Cross is another dc superhero - one of my favs.
This lovely accented doctor, Pieter Anton Cross, is none other than Doctor Mid-Nite (the second). here's some pics (the first is w his bffl/platonic life partner Michael Holt aka Mister Terrific)
Pieter graduated from Harvard Medical at 19. He's essentially the Hero Community's go-to doctor for everything.
"Doctor Mid-Nite is the world's most prominent superhero doctor. He is often called upon when an autopsy is needed, or when a hero needs major surgery."
Ye, he's had to autopsy his dead friends :( he also does casual checkups. Powergirl goes to him for her check ups and to keep an eye on her powers. He's done a bunch of life-saving surgeries on not only the heroes but ALSO their loved ones! He performed surgery on Lois Lane after she got shot. When Hush removed Catwoman's heart from her body, Doctor Mid-nite and Mister Terrific were able to successfully put it back in and save her.
You not only want him in ur corner when ur hurt, u need him. There's none better! Imagine the sheer amount of crazy powerful allies he has bcus he saves all sorts of heroes and their loved ones! U don't attack the healer unless u wanna get fucked up by the rest of the squad, right? U also don't piss the healer off unless u wanna suffer, right? Same energy, fam. It helps that he can perform surgery flawlessly in the fuckin pitch dark.
He's disabled! In fact, Doctor Mid-Nite is credited as the first disabled superhero in comics! They're talking about Charles McNider, his predecessor, but Pieter Cross is also disabled. He's blind. I won't go into his whole origin but suffice to say he was unwillingly drugged and it caused him to go totally blind except for in the absolute dark.
He can only see in the dark and/or with his specialized lenses iirc. He carries smoke grenades that cause absolute blackness (think vanta black bombs) bcus he can see just fine in it and others can't. Any attack that involves having to see the attack (think Medusa's gaze) doesn't work on him cus he's conventionally blind. HOWEVER when he can see, it's fuckin crazy. Eagles got nothing on how sharp his eyes are in the right setting. Like we're talking super vision.
Those funky lenses on his cowl? They're to let him see in the light. It's kinda like infrared goggles and can let him see ultrasonic as well. Without his tools, he can't see. He got his sight back once and hated it bcus he could no longer work the way he used to.
OTHER FUN FACTS ABOUT THE GREAT DOCTOR
Doctor Mid-Nite has his own website where he provides free medical advice to registered users.
He's Norwegian-born. (That's his accent in that YJ ep)
Him and Mister Terrific are the bestest of friends (I felt the need to reiterate bcus they're Besties for Life. Read 1 comic with them in it and you'll see what I mean)
HE HAS A PET OWL NAMED CHARLIE!! He named him Charlie after the first Doctor Mid-Nite, Charles McNider!! He's trained to aid Pieter in combat! Attack owl!!! Batman has his Robins, Mid-Nite has owl sidekicks!
Highly Skilled Escapologist
He briefly dated Black Canary
His general medical license has been revoked, not that it stops him from practicing and helping ppl. He gives zero fucks. He's here to help, not politick around when ppl are dying.
He never stopped being a doctor, even after becoming a superhero. HE'S A LOVELY, KIND, COMPASSIONATE MAN WHO JUST WANTS TO HELP PPL
He's vegetarian AND he does yoga (imma cry yall, he's so fuckin great)
S1 of Young Justice appears to take place before he gets his powers and becomes Doctor Mid-nite cus he's not wearing any type of glasses. Wally interacted w (imo) one of the greatest heroes and doesn't know it!
Mid-nite is the one everyone says Tim Drake copied with his one Red Robin uniform (it's true too. I wouldn't be surprised if Tim was a Mid-nite fan, they seem like they'd get along)
T H I C C T H I G H S!!! I know everyone talks about Jason's thighs but Pieter's thighs are next level!! I ain't playing! Look at these hams!!
When his mom was pregnant with him, she got attacked. The OG Doctor Mid-nite saved her. Then, when she went into labor, he delivered lil bby Pieter. What are the odds lmaoo
BDE through the roof, fight me. Massive Meat Energy and I won't apologize for saying it
Survived 'seeing' Johnny Sorrow's face even tho it kills legit anyone who looks bcus he's blind. Used the recording his goggles took of JS' face and played it back to Johnny and beat him lmaoo
As someone summarized nicely: 'Prior to him getting blind, Dr. Pieter was a very caring man.. He would take a walk in the evening every day and helps out poor people who live in the streets, especially to those who are addicted to drugs.. He would help out missionaries in donation to help the poor and the hungry.. A Poor People Savior you might say."
"Doctor Cross uses his medical expertise as a hand-to-hand weapon. Once, when challenged to arm wrestle, he won by triggering the proper nerves in his opponent's arm." Savage Nerd Alert. Can, has, and will continue to use his Galaxy Brain (and BDE) to beat ppl, dirty technique or not.
Geoff Johns on Doctor Mid-Nite: "Doctor Mid-Nite is a visionary, figuratively and literally. Blinded by an accident, he’s able to see on all spectrums through the filters on his goggles."
Here's some of him being the Super Doctor:
Helped Alan Scott to determine if he was composed of the Green flame of Starheart
Helped Power Girl to check and test her powers
Saved Hourman's life by performing an emergency surgery
Saved Oracle by removing the Brainiac virus which possessed her body
Saved Lois Lane's Life by removing a sniper bullet after she was shot
Helped Raven to drive the demonic possession that attacked her by using Hologram Tech
I love him and would die for more content about him
Srsly I'll cry if even one(1) person acknowledges him in a YJ fic (or any fic tbh)
APPRECIATE DOCTOR PIETER ANTON 'MID-NITE' CROSS OR P E R I S H
Also if ur writing a YJ fic and have need for a doctor, pls add him. He didn't graduate med school to be ignored, yall. Or add him in just bcus he's rad af. At least do it for Charlie the owl!!
#young justice#Pieter cross#doctor mid-nite#I LOVE HIM YALL#A LOT#AND NOBODY GIVES HIM ANY ATTENTION#LOVE HIM WITH ME#am i gonna have to steer AND populate this 'Loving Doctor Mid-nite' boat myself??
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if u could, perhaps, bless us with all the applicable symbols from that fic ask for hvh 👀
ooOoOOOoOO Rub s gay hands togehter omg ty friend 😍;;;;;;
💡 - What was the motivation behind the story?
hHH i hadnt written in 10+ years so when i latched onto this plot idea i just thought itd be a good time to jump the shark and try it again !! i just wanted smth really edgy and depthful bc im emo and the rest kind of snowballed
💎- What was your favorite part?
osdlfksd;lf it’s hard to pick a fav but the drunk scene was definitely the most fun to write at least
⛰️- What was the hardest part?
THE SCENE WHERE THE GANG IS KIDNAPPED BY ENKI,,,, i debated toning down the violence but in the end i knew where the story was going (and where its still going) and that its gonNA be kinda dark so why hold back now ig
🎭- What was the feeling or mood you were going for?
BITTERSWEET AF,,, sort of just treading the line of ‘hopeful’ and ‘hopeless’ at all times to fully portray the feeling of being at your lowest, but with that classic tss ‘silver linings just around the corner’ kind of undertone
🏟️- Who was your intended audience?
mostly all the adults that watched tss as a kid and felt like spirituaLLY MOVED BY IT cuz i really tried to tap into that Emotion Tee Em we all felt when we found out that zak was [redacted]
🔬- Was there one scene you were building up to/knew you had to get just right?
hHH theres actually a LOT of scenes like that and i think a lot of my general motivation to keep going comes from that ‘WAIT FOR IT WAIT FOR IT’ vibe slkdf:SDF but the Plot Twist tm in the latest chapter was definitely a big’n, and theres a few more of those still to come :^)
🗝️ - What were you thinking when you wrote it?
kjdjFSDs:DF tbh whenever i start really writing, [’im shifting into soup mode’ seinfeld meme voice] im shifting into maladaptive daydreaming mode
🎥- Were there any tv shows, books, or movies that influenced this verse, if any?
:^) devilman crybaby pls forgive me for everytHing
📈- Was there a clear character arch you wanted____ character to go on?
i actually have a short list of what i somewhat consider to be the story arcs in my notes !! mostly just for organization and obvs i wont list the future ones but so far we’ve seen the kushtaka arc, the enki arc, and now we’re in what i call ‘the annunaki’ arc.
🎢- Were there any scenes you were nervous about? For audience reception or otherwise?
ALL OF IT JSHDJSKD, but again a lot of the enki scenes i was worried would be too edgy TM, and the whole annunaki plot as well i was worried might be too ‘out there’ for ppl, but it takes the story exactly where i always wanted it and lines everything up perfectly so i went for it lol. i was also ofc worried if people would like ila or not bc oc but most ppl love her actually which is so 😭❤️
☠️- Did you consider killing off any of the characters? Did you?
8^) [mickey mouse voice] this is a surprise tool that will help us later ,
✉️- Did you title your chapters? What title do you like best?
yes! the next one actually has my favorite chapter title yet, but so far i like ‘so strikes the harpoon’ since its a throwback to the first couple chapters
☀️- Was there symbolism/motifs you worked in?
o every single paragraph is an overly thought out middle school poem im entering in the talent show actually
🎵- Did you have a playlist/piece of music that went with this story?
Yes !! i have HVH insp part 1, Part 2, and an extra one for all those songs that have the vibes but just dont fit enough to make sense in a playlist
📜-Do you want to write something like this again in the future?
probably ! ive learned i definitely like the edgy/darker and emotionally driven stories with ongoing plot, so that trend will almost definitely continue. idk if ill write a dystopia again anytime soon, but i think my future stuff will at least retain that long and heavy vibe
💁- Did readers influence/change any part of this story?
oh yEA like basically i was ready to quit after the very first chapter before it was even written and kinda just got it all out on a whim of motivation but was expecting to flake on it like i tend to do with projects, but the invested response to it was just so uplifting that its what ive been riding on all ten chapters and im so grateful for it :’)))
✏️-Would you go back and change anything if you could?
hHHHHHHH yes and ok this is terrible but i actually tend to avoid re-reading my older chapters until i hAVe to bc i suffer from that sO much ,,, , its just little things like tiny words i wanna change or bits i wanna take out/put in and once or twice ive even caught a mistake or plot hole/smth i forgot to add that i rly do have to go back and edit and i just turn to dust every tim e
⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?
i really liked the northern lights scene!! it was meant to be a pivotal moment of that ‘bittersweetness’ vibe i was talking abt and it was another one of those scenes i had been planning for a while;;;
“ I think of how much the rest of the family would love this. This isn’t like the moon and the sun, where I can see it and know that even if it looks different, they’ll see the same one soon enough, wherever they are. This reminds me only that I am not with them. It stings. It seems unnatural for something so gentle and natural to appear before us as if we aren’t in complete, total fucking chaos. After all we’ve been through, and the sky still dances. “
📣-What was the best piece of encouragement you got?
AVERY ALL OF UR LIVEBL OGS AND COMMENTS GIV ME SUCH L I FE, ,, ,, CRYIGN CAT FA ce
🔦-Did you learn anything while writing it? About yourself? Writing?
isdfhSDF YEs, part of my hesitation to write came from this thing where i always just assumed there was a wildly high standard of writing in fandom spaces like in original literature spaces, where you had to have like 10+ sentences to a paragraph and you had to describe every tiny detail of a setting and you had to follow every single grammar rule or it was unreadable but like. genuinely its like sculpting with words as long as you have a shape ppl get the idea which is such a weight off my shoulders lol, its still a lot of work but so much fun to know i can to an extent do what i want and ppl actually like it like that. i also learned that like most other writers i have to cause my favs emotional and physical pain,
🎁- Any writing advice for people who want to write something like this?
hhHHHH 1. please do it its so fun just give in to the edge my guy , 2. try to get comfortable re-reading your chapters, for me its like when ppl listen to themselves sing/act but im trying to do better bc its so much more consistent when i keep it fresh in my mind and it also boosts confidence when u can pick out the things u like instead of the things u dont, 3. trying to have at least one scene in mind for each chapter that ur excited to write so u can have motivation to update faster! for me it doesnt have to be smth i think would excite the audience either like it could be the most basic thing but just having an idea of it and knowing i want to see it come to life rly helps me stay on top of it all
TY SM FRIEND THIS WAS SO FUN x x )
#lochley#long post/ //#hvh#human v humanity#secret saturdays#tss#sorry to spam the tag with a longk boi but hHBHHBH#TYYY#fanfic
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whenever you have free time: can you explain your opinions on what houses vox machina and the mighty nein are in? i 100% agree w gryffindor nott btw
I’d just like to start by clarifying that altho I do feel strongly about some of these opinions (& ive joked about them being unchangeable - which is not true, to be serious), that doesnt mean I don’t wanna hear y’all’s - do you agree w/ me on some & not the others? completely disagree? completely agree for different reasons? tell me (politely pls) & give me some of ur reasons! i think part of the intrigue of sorting our fav characters into hogwarts houses is that it tells us what we value in them & what traits of theirs stand out to us the most - and that subsequently makes it…. fairly subjective (also doesn’t help that the standards for each house are kind of……vague lol)
I expect all of ur essays on this v important question on my desk by 8 am monday morning
now onto answering the actual ask:
The Mighty Nein
Caleb - Ravenclaw; aside from the fact that he obviously values books & advancement of his own magical knowledge, he also seems to think through important decisions in a logical manner (ex. he spent a lot of time thinking about whether he & nott should stay w/ the rest of the mighty nein)
Fjord - Ravenclaw; again, besides the obvious, his interest in studying at the Soltryce Academy, he’s also really observant & intent on learning from those around him, given all the questions he’s asked Caleb & the way he keeps an eye on Jester’s divine magic
Molly - Hufflepuff; altho initially i had some mixed feelings about this, after giving it some thought, im actually most convinced of this one: as many have pointed out, he’s shaping up to be the Mom Friend & taliesin also says he has a moral code that he sticks to - i think being steadfast in the way youre gonna put good into the world (& in how u treat the evils & injustices) is very Hufflepuff
Yasha - Slytherin; though I say this tentatively bc we haven’t seen a lot of her yet - she doesn’t seem like a traditional slytherin in a highly ambitions sense, but she does seem like to stick to her guns & prioritise herself when necessary (“I run into the woods”)
Beau - Gryffindor; she strikes me as fight first, ask questions later kinda gal & going in guns blazing seems very Gryffindor to me - in addition, she also saved nott from that manticore, which struck me as reckless bravery consistent w/ gryffindors
Nott - Gryffindor; i spent some time thinking about this one after @matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll gave some of their reasons for slotting nott as a hufflepuff - ultimately, I think nott’s a gryffindor despite the fact that she doesn’t consider herself brave is bc her actions speak louder than her words (“I cover Caleb’s body with my own” & “I kill the baby manticore”); the willingness to put urself at risk for the people u care about over and over even at ur own expense strikes me as a gryffindor trait (for better or worse, I might add - see my thoughts on Vax’ildammit)
Jester - look I……………………………..honestly don’t fuckin know. Hufflepuff? Slytherin? Idk ask me again in fifty episodes
Vox Machina
Percy - Ravenclaw; initially i had percy as a Slytherin but i think once he got over the whole demon revenge thing he actually turned out to be pretty Ravenclaw - I mean, he does invent things, and he’s not interested at all in being in charge of Whitestone (also what kind of fuckin nerd learns Celestial for the fun of it lmao)
Vex - Slytherin; Lady Vex’ahlia, Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone and Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt - she cares about the title & the money & with very good reason, i think - her ability to obtain what she wants & persevere through the tough times puts her in Slytherin (also - with trinket’s origin story - i think it takes some real fucking grit & confidence to dig urself out of that kind of situation on ur own)
Vax - Gryffindor; this one is a lot to unpack. @swiftbell & i have been arguing about this one on & off for awhile; she thinks Vax is a Hufflepuff (& she has good reason to). there’s a lot of debate about whether hogwarts house are based on who u are vs who u want to be/strive to be & while i think arguments based on the latter r fine, i tend to base mine on the former in this list bc its easier to see actions than try to parse out thought
so that being said, i think Vax is a gryffindor bc while he cares deeply about his found family, he doesn’t exactly place a high price on his own safety; he goes in first, he goes in stupidly, he almost gets himself killed a lot - that kind of drive toward self sacrifice, to me, falls under the reckless bravery of a gryffindor
(as I said to steph: a hufflepuff would die for their loved ones if they absolutely had to, but a gryffindor tends to look at it as one of their first choices - also vax reminds me a lot of sirius black but im gonna stop right here to avoid turning this post into a vax character analysis)
Grog - Gryffindor; grog doesn’t do much thinking, he just does (& im not saying all gryffindors don’t think - obviously many do (@ hermione granger)- but i do they’re the types of people most prone to falling into the trap of not thinking things thru) it’s almost like the opposite of vax’s problem except we’re not talking about vax anymore bc this isnt a vax character study
Keyleth - Gryffindor; i feel like im beating a dead horse here but kiki also doesn’t always think things through & is very prone to action; the difference between her brand of gryffindor as opposed to vax’s & grog’s is that her outcomes are a little more mixed bag
Pike - Hufflepuff; i think pike is a hufflepuff for a lot of the same reasons i think molly is… which is a little surprising so just bear with me a second; she’s very devoted to Sarenrae, which sets up her (mostly) clear perspective of the world and how she should exist & treat people in it; she’s less of a mom friend (altho she still has some of those qualities), and she’s as loyal to her own causes as she is to Vox Machina; she also tends to be very kind & fun-loving w/out being a pushover
Scanlan - im a huge fan of scanlan, which probably means i should have some momentous opinion here…………….but I don’t, I really don’t know - i think once i get to some key points in scanlan’s character development (which i think are coming up in the next like 15 episodes or something), i’ll have a clearer thought
Tiberius - im not sure i remember tiberius well enough to make a full judgment, but I would say Ravenclaw probably if i had to bc of his constant interest in intelligence & learning to be a better sorcerer
Tary - ive heard of him but i dont know him yet so tbd
#idkimoutofideas#i'm sure this was more than u all wanted to know but here you go#i'm a slytherin myself btw#the mighty nein#vox machina#critical role#harry potter au#hogwarts houses#text#asks#answers#long post
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soulmate!au park jihoon
oops a soulmate au lmao hope you guys aren’t tired of these yet
first oF all everyone has different ways of finding their soulmate
like some people can’t see color until they meet them, some people have the whatever they write on their skin appears on their soulmates skin too
but you had one where you both appear in each others dreams??
the problem with you two was that it was only your voices appearing and not your faces
so you were clueless as to who your soulmate was
a lot of the people you knew already knew who their soulmates were
only bc life didn’t fucking hate them and let them know earlier
usually it didn’t bother you bc you thought eventually you’d find out
but years went by and you just never found them
so you start to panic
“what if i eND up alone i’m crying”
but one day you start having these dreams
and it’s just a boy talking to you???
and you can’t see him you can only hear him
so ur like wow thx life this is no help
but you can communicate with each other in your dreams
literally sleeping is the only thing you look forward to everyday
not that it already wasn’t what you looked forward to lmao
but it was pretty hard for you
considering he didn’t appear in your dreams every night
it was kind of a random thing
like he would just appear whenever and ur like oh ok hi
and it’d be easier bc he could just be like oh yeah my name is whatever, look me up and we could meet
BUT HE WAS STUBBORN AS FUCK
“whY can’t you just tell me ur name???”
“bc i don’t want to meet my soulmate. it’s stupid”
and ur like omg wHY cAN’T U JUST TELL ME omg
but he seriously refuses to
you tell him your name over and over again
hoping he’ll get tempted and just look you up
you even give him all your social media lmao
like “this is my twitter slide in my dm’s when u sTOP BEING A USELESS ASS SPOON”
it stresses you out so bad
whenever you hear someone with a similar voice to his ur just like “soulmate is tht u”
and the guy is always like “woAh bro i already found mine??”
and your friends always try to invite you on their little group dates but you say no
you don’t wanna 3rd wheel with like 5 different couples lmao
you don’t necessarily want a boyfriend
like you aren’t obsessing over having one it’s just???
everyone has so much fun with theirs it’s like having a built in best friend
and a lot of the “couples” don’t even date they’re just like wow we were meant to get along leT’S BE FRIENDS
the same night you’re kind of moping around and being sad
he comes into ur dreams
“hey!!!”
“fuck off i hate u for making me miserable”
at first he’s just like uhh wtf u weirdo
but he really notices how you’re just not in the mood
“look y/n i just don’t want this to end badly”
and ur like ??? “what are you even talking about”
and he explains that a lot of the people around him somehow don’t even really communicate after meeting
like everyone kind of just goes on with their life
and he likes you a lot bc you’re funny and nice and he doesn’t want it to get ruined
“and what if it turns out well?? ur missing out on a lot here”
and pretty much the next morning
he’s just like shit she’s right
but poor bby is so afraid he doesn’t want things to go wrong
he’s also like omggbsfkjldh what if i end up marrying this peRSOn though
so he spends the whole day debating whether or not he should just tell you
“WOOJIN SHOULD I JUST TELL HER OH MY GOD”
“stOP being a little puss jihoon”
so that night jihoon “shows” up and it’s just awkward
bc he’s so nervous and wants to tell you
and you’re just like uhh?? why isn’t this boy speaking
“paRK JIHOON”
“what????????”
then you kind of realize
like wow
THAT IS HIS FUCKING NAME
you almost scream bc finally
and that morning you see a notification on snapchat
and soME KID NAMED PARK JIHOON ADDED YOU
AND UR LIKE !!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK
so you add him back and ur like omg dude pls meet me at this pizza place
ur gonna eat ur fav food with your fucking soulmate like yes pls
so you fix your hair and try to make yourself as presentable as possible
and like you practically almost break the pizza places door trying to get in
and when u do ur like frantically looking around
and then you realize you don’t know how he looks and only he does
so if he decides to chicken out hE CAN WITHOUT U KNOWING
“and why does my little soulmate look so sad?”
you turn and it’s the cutest boy evER
HIS CHEEKS ARE PINK AND HE’S SMILING SHYLY AND IT’S IHGDKGSJFLD
“i thought you were gonna ditch me or some shit”
“i could never leave such a pretty girl alone like that”
and now it’s your turn to blush bc ghfdklsjld;ak
and after that you guys talk for a really long time
bc you want to make sure he doesn’t have any regrets about talking to you
and he’s just like wowihfdjoss i’m so lucky that this is my soulmate
and you feel the exact same way
bc he’s just such a cute, sweet, and funny guy
he’s like mentally hitting himself bc why was he ever worried about this
but HFSDJASa it works out so well and you guys are so cute together
nd wow
#wanna one scenarios#wanna one imagines#wanna one fluff#wanna one#park jihoon scenarios#park jihoon imagines#park jihoon fluff#park jihoon#omg sorry this was so shitty#especially the ending#omg
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Hello so I uhhh need a quote for my senior jacket (no not In yearbook, on the back of an actual jacket that I’ll probably never take off) and since you’re a fan since the earlier days, I need an mcr lyric/gway tweet that seems cheekily ~deep~ and “meaningful”, but still either edgy(mcr) or completely ridiculous(gway), and if u really don’t have anything suitable, may I just uhh ask for your all times favs?? Tysm! Lob u emom 🧡
Lob you too emorphan!
Hmm, this is going to require Thought, so hopefully other ppl will feel free to add their own fave quotes/lyrics. I’m gonna include part 2 of your ask below for completeness:
“(Senior jacket anon) I honestly just wanna trick everyone around me that I’m just as “normal” and fucking cheesy at them and only let The Emos understand djshdjsj (I also don’t wanna intimidate my parents, it’s been so many years and they still don’t know what kind of music I listen to dbnsbdjwb) PS: pls take ur time cherry picking the favs because I still got so many months until I have to confirm my jacket order ❤️”
Honestly, I don’t think you can go wrong with “Thank you for the venom” bc it’s iconic and was on Gerard’s shirt for their very first show so it gets extra emo points right there.
I also like “You get what everyone else gets, you get a lifetime” bc it’s a Neil Gaiman quote from the Preacher, which was the inspiration for the whole Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge concept. Actually google tells me the original quote was “You get what anybody gets - you get a lifetime” so you can take your pick.
How about “Shut up and let me see your jazz hands”? That’s nicely generic enough for your undercover emo needs.
Ditto “We are the kids from yesterday”
My all time fave Gerard tweet was: “lick that hand and stick it in a ziplock bag of fundip you mad animal” bc it’s just so Gerard.
And not forgetting “I grow stronger with more cats”
That’s all I have for now but I’ll add to it if anything comes to mind xxx
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