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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

17 going on 27

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

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March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you excited for prom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong, Kook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lips locked, kissing Jennie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we dating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much has changed in the past ten years.

“Hey, can you please stop crying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But we’ve always been different people.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jennie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it hits you.

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

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what?

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To a park where you’re not in!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, the car drives itself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t leave.

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”

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

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

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

“Do you have work?” you ask casually.

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is wrong with you?

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

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

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it now, Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry for what?”

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

“Well why are you upset at yourself?”

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

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

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

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

“Five-hundred a week?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, who are your models?”

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

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

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

“I’m not modeling.”

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

“Partners.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe, everything alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!”

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

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

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

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.”

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You little–”

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

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

“Why are we here?”

“For research purposes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have to?”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bun, be careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounded oddly sexual.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Needless to say, the issue is yours.

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

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

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

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

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half.

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I want to break up.”

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

“What?” he wilts, “why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things change.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to lose you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Good night, Kook.”

“Good night, Bun.”

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

Some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oui, oui.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ultimate-ranger · 2 years

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Gundham Tanaka General HCs

⋙⎯⎯˚۰˚⸙͎۪۫༻☀༺⸙͎۪۫˚۰˚⎯⎯⎯⫸

Some headcanons for Gundham cause I adore him so damn much

Disclaimer: These are just my own opinions based off of my ideas and education in animal ethics and wildlife education!

⋙⎯⎯˚۰˚⸙͎۪۫༻☀༺⸙͎۪۫˚۰˚⎯⎯⎯⫸

Biromantic Demisexual. While he develops feelings easily, it’s a different story when it comes to having sex; he’d have to trust his partner more than anyone else in the world before he feels comfortable.

Hot take, but despite popular belief, Gundham isn’t vegan/vegetarian. I know, I know, hold your heckling and let me elaborate:

◈ Yes I’m aware he’s stated that he pities how livestock is raised solely for human consumption. However, Kodaka isn’t majoring in Wildlife Education like I am, and thus likely slapped this ideal onto Gundham since it’s such a big stereotype for animal lovers to absolutely hate any consumption of animals in anyway.

◈ He understands that most livestock are already natural prey animals, meaning they don’t need much to reach their life goals and stay comfortable. As long as needs are met, there’s no cause for concern.

◈ I can ramble on about the ethics of animal consumption all damn day, but I’ll spare you from that lmao

◈ Gundham doesn’t hate the idea of raising animals for consumption as a whole, he just hates how industrialized it’s become. He’s totally fine with smaller, less commercial farms that care for the well-being of their livestock.

◈ He only buys from said farms, both meat products and crops. I can definitely see him as an “organics” guy. Same goes for the food he gives to his own animals. Only the best for his army.

◈ Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy fishes for himself too.

Has a pretty good sense of humor. He’s well aware that his way of speaking is outlandish and dramatic, so whenever he feels like teasing/pranking someone (usually Kazuichi), he’ll speak totally normally. He might even throw in some modern slang for funsies. He’ll go right back to being dramatic after a single sentence though, when he feels he’s thrown the other off enough.

Hates PETA with a burning passion <3

Made a “pact” with local shelters that any animal that isn’t adopted within a year or is placed on the euthanize list will be taken into his own care. If he’s unable to find an adopter, then that animal becomes part of his family army.

Actually has very little experience with wildlife, his grizzly bear being an exception. He’s mostly only worked with domestic animals, and sometimes wild animals make him nervous, even if he doesn’t show it.

Speaking of his grizzly bear: It’s an educational animal, not a pet. It does not live nor reside anywhere near his home, and is instead sheltered at a wildlife reserve he trusts.

Renaissance fairs. On GOD does he adore Renaissance fairs. He very rarely goes out west to the Americas/Europe, but when he does, he damn well makes sure he visits at least one Ren fair.

◈ Sometimes he’ll have his own area! A petting zoo/creature feature, where he dresses up and acts as a sorcerer with his familiars. So really, just his typical self, but with more medieval clothing.

◈ Visitors and staff adore him cause he’s just a funky lil guy.

◈ Kaz and Sonia tag along sometimes too! Kaz as a steampunk blacksmith and Sonia as either a Renaissance-era princess, or a witch whenever she’s assisting Gundham.

Listens to obscure music that you’d expect from folks like him. Viking metal. Medieval rock. The occasional unknown indie band. Gaelic rock. Instrumentals. That kinda thing. No I’m totally not projecting.

◈ Will never admit it but he also enjoys acoustic covers/versions of popular songs every now and then.

Even though he canonically doesn’t wear underwear, he still wears boxers to bed. Sweatpants if its chilly out.

He actually has troubles sleeping. A lot of people say he’s an early riser, and I think so too, but that doesn’t mean he’s waking up after a full uninterrupted 8 hours.

◈ He’s got so many animals to care for, theres no way they’d let him rest for longer than 3 hours.

◈ Ever take care of baby birds? Birds in general? Say goodbye to your sleep schedule, cause baby birds typically have to be fed nearly every other hour, depending on the bird/age.

◈ Dogs begging to be let out/fed. Cats yowling and pawing at his bedroom door because they want to be let in. Birds waking up and chirping at 4 am. Roosters crowing at the ass crack of dawn, sometimes even before, and never in a pleasant note.

◈ Yeah, that’s not just eyeliner he’s got – them’s some eye bags, baby!

Avid social media user. Yeah it’s canon he runs an animal care/breeding blog, but I like to think he also peruses various other social media platforms too – just under a burner-type account.

◈ It’s not until his friends, mainly Kaz, encourage him to actually make a proper online presence for himself. Twitter and Instagram for animal related topics and photos, and a Facebook simply for business/resume purposes.

◈ Y’know the “is-the-___-video-cute” blogs that aim to help inform others if a video is actually a good/ethical animal video? Or animal-related behavior blogs? Yeah he’s got one of those. Maybe one on Twitter and Insta too.

◈ People LOVE him online. He’s got a fanclub but he never interacts with them cause he’s too nervous. Still likes/shares/retweets/etc their photos and posts though.

◈ Whenever he DOES interact on a post, though, its like spotting a cryptid. Single word or sentence responses that are either haunting af or insanely funny in that dry wit kinda way. Like having Seth Everman reply to your post.

◈ People have begged him to make ASMRs whenever he posts a video where he speaks. He’s debating on it.

◈ Is absolutely 100% debating on making a podcast.

Is in plenty of documentaries/mini series as a guest speaker/interviewee, and no matter how hard he tries to look spooky and intimidating for the video, the animals always end up making him look soft and gentle.

◈ It’s both jarring yet hilarious to see this dark, brooding man talk in such a deep and rough voice, only to then turn his head and place a lil kissie on one of the Deva’s heads.

Doesn’t want to have kids in the future. He feels as though he doesn’t have the proper mental stability to raise a child, nor is he that fond of the idea of being a father to another human. Besides, animal care takes up pretty much all of his time and energy. He’s a Dog Dad™ for life, man.

Despite being a Dog Dad™ though, he has no bias over cats or dogs. If it’s an animal, he loves it. Training a good dog to be a companion? Curled up by the window with a cat in his lap on a rainy day? That’s the life, bro.

Terrified of heights. We all saw how he acted on that rollercoaster.

Very protective of his friends! If someone’s been able to wiggle their way into his closed-off heart, then he’d lay his life down for them.

◈ If he hears or catches wind of someone talking shit about one of his friends, you can bet he’s gonna give them one hell of a Shakespearian smack down.

◈ If he gets really mad, though, he may even drop his persona completely and just cuss the fuck outta the person. That’s when you know he values that friend a lot.

◈ Even with people he claims to hate (cough Kaz cough), he still sticks up for them if he hears their name being slandered.

Wants people to better understand animals, yet gets super anxious and restless whenever he lets someone hold/handle an animal that isn’t a cat or dog. They’re just so fragile and he’s nervous!

In conclusion your honor, I love him. Please talk to me about Gundham.

#danganronpa #dr2 #gundham tanaka #sdr2 #headcanons #goodbye despair

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

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pretty little treat (hotchniss/reader)

title: pretty little treat

Requested: no

Couple: Emily Prentiss/Fem!Reader/Aaron Hotchner

Category: SMUT

Content Warning: Sexual Content (daddy kink, lots of praise, lots of degradation, threesome (F/F/M), fingering, oral (fem), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, groping, heavy petting, teasing, hair pulling, penetrive/safe sex, implied condom use, D/s & BDSM themes, orgasm denial (1 instance), slight humiliation, fem masturbation, handjob), dirty thoughts, dirty talk, Dom!Emily, Dom!Aaron, swearing, Bi!Reader & Bi!Emily, kissing/making out, brief aftercare (consists of cuddling and praise), mentions of canon-consistent trauma (hotch’s injuries w/ foyet, emily’s injuries w/ ian doyle)

Word Count: 7,433

Summary: Emily brings home a little treat for her girlfriend.

A/N: in my rewatch I got to demonology and I suddenly wanted to write prentiss/reader/hotch smut. Thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins , @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff , and @reidetic for helping me come up with a few ideas and a few other nitty-gritty things. Please, this is just pure smut that i probably had way too much fun writing. I also… binged dharma and greg while i wrote this… so this is totally domestic!hotch too o.o ALSO thank you to @princessmooshie and @newportonmymind for beta-reading this for me! I totally appreciate you! ANYWAY, thank you all so, so much for all the love and support! I seriously hope you enjoy reading this! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{**}

“I finished early. So I’m gonna go home.” I looked down at Emily as I wrapped my arms around her neck. She looked away from her file and turned her head to face me.

“Okay, text me when you get home,” she whispered before pressing her lips to mine. I hummed as I leaned into her display of affection. “I have a present for you too. But you won’t get it till I get home… So don’t try looking for it.” She smiled before poking my nose. I wrinkled my nose before kissing her again.

“Fine. I’ll see you in a bit,” I whispered as I looked at her with a soft smile. “Goodbye, BAU Family. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I stood up and looked at all the team members with a smile.

“Have a nice night,” Aaron said as he looked at me and nodded. I smiled at him and returned the nod. I stared at him for a moment longer. I hoped it wasn’t too obvious because I didn’t mean to stare at him. It just happened. My lower lip was pulled between my teeth as my thoughts suddenly ran wild. I was just happy no one noticed, other than Emily. She totally noticed.

“Right,” clearing my throat as I spoke, “Bye guys.” I looked back at Emily before finally leaving. I kept my head low as I walked, and when I stepped on to the elevator, I noticed the way Emily was staring at me. I couldn’t tell if it was a good stare or a bad stare. I wouldn’t be surprised if I get a talking to later about that.

When I finally got to my car, I pulled my phone from my bag and looked at all the missed messages and notifications from the day. All the texts I had meant nothing to me the second I saw Emily’s name show up at the top of my screen with a new, unread messages. Swallowing roughly, I tapped the notification and read the text.

Emily>Me: Dirty girl… I saw the way you were staring at Hotch… Dirty… Dirty… Girl…

I stared at the text with wide eyes and my breathing growing shallow. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. I am so fucked. She’s going to come home, drag me to bed and fuck me over. I couldn’t tell if I was scared or excited, but the way my thighs pressed together told me I was more excited than scared.

I chucked my phone back into my bag before starting my car. My hands were clenched around the steering wheel, my knuckles blanching from the tightness. Tapping the radio on and turning it up so loud to drown out my thoughts.

But the loud classic rock, metal, jazzy blues, or any genre didn’t help me at all. I was still in my head thinking. And, they weren’t about Emily either. They were about Aaron.

The thought of sitting on Aaron’s lap, wearing nothing but his shirt. His lips on mine before trailing over my jaw and down my neck. One hand resting on my chest. While the other was resting high on my legs, his thumb brushing against my bare thigh. It was only a matter of moments before his fingers were against m- “Fuck,” I whispered before shaking my head.

I had to pull over on the side of the road for a minute because I was starting to get distracted. And, if I wanted to get home safely, I had to stop for a minute. My head had to be clear of that. Hopefully Emily wouldn’t be home before me. I think she’d rather me be safe and show up at home later, rather than find out I got horny and in a wreck.

After a few minutes of just sitting on the side of the highway with loud music playing, while I thought about one of the grossest cases I could think of, I was finally ready to continue driving.

My fingers tapped the top of the steering wheel, while I muttered the words to whatever song was playing over the radio.

When I finally got home, I took a quick, and very cold shower. My thoughts were slowly becoming normal as I read over an old case file. I guess the focus on all the blood, guts, and gore help me out. It was still hard though.

I was home alone for maybe 45 minutes, tops. Just long enough to make me be alone with my thoughts. Maybe the shower, old case, and loud music didn’t help as much as I wanted.

I could hear the lock on the front door click to be unlocked, and the door opening. My body froze with anticipation.

“I’m home! Hope you didn’t go poking around for that little present,” Emily called from the front room. I cleared my throat slightly before speaking.

“Thank god!” I shouted from my spot on the chair. I kept my eyes on file in hand as I waited for Emily to enter the room. “Longest hour of my life…” I tried to let my tone be desperate. But I don’t think I had to try very hard. She just had to know what I wanted, without me actually saying it. I closed the file when she finally stepped into the living room.

“Sorry I kept you waiting, Kitten, I know how needy and impatient you are,” Emily spoke as she smiled at me, “Especially when you’re waiting for me.” I smiled as I stared at her for a moment. Though my smile was quick to melt away as someone stepped around her and entered the living room.

Aaron stood beside Emily, a slightly smug smile on his lips. His arms were folded over his chest as he stared back at me. I stared at him, my lips parted slightly. The feeling of shock and excitement grew in my chest, and I remembered the thoughts I had on the way home.

“Oh, h-hi, Aaron.” I looked at him with a nervous smile on my lips. I shifted in my seat as the pair walked in my direction.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Aaron over. I needed his help with something.” Emily smiled as she stood behind me. I swallowed roughly as Aaron stood beside me. It was hard not to shift in my seat. A familiar… feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

Something told me Emily didn’t need help with anything. And there’s something else to this. Why else would Aaron be here? I wouldn’t know. They’re always secretive at work. So I wouldn’t expect anything different here.

“What’s this about? Really?” I finally spoke after a long moment of silence. I looked up at Aaron as he stood beside me, his hand delicately cupping my cheek. He was looking back down at me with a certain softness in his eyes. It was weird seeing him be so… gentle. I was so used to seeing him as a hardass at the office. But here, now? I was at a loss for words. I was so lost in the way he held and caressed my face. I’m not gonna lie, forgot about Emily for half a second.

“Well, kitten, you wanted me to be nicer,” Emily started as she stood behind me. I was honestly too involved with how Aaron was looking at me and touching to actually pay attention to Emily. “But... I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she continued before she placed her hand on my chin, forcing me to look up at her. I took a deep shaky breath as my attention was now on her. “So, I brought someone who could help with that. A pretty little treat.” Her tone was deep and rough as she spoke. I swallowed roughly as we stared at each other. I could feel my heart begin to race, and my breathing pick up with each breath I took. At this point it was impossible to keep my excitement at bay.

“Emily,” Aaron cut in, forcing me to look over at him. Emily kept her eyes on me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see a smirk growing on her lips. “Be careful with her.” He looked up at Emily with a stern expression on his face. There was the Aaron Hotchner I was so used to seeing.

“What? She likes it when I’m rough with her. Don’t you, Kitten?” Emily asked as she looked down at me with a sarcastic smile. Suddenly I couldn’t take my eyes off Emily. I mean, of course, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was my world, and I was hers. I’d move Heaven and Earth for her if she asked.

“Y-yes, Ma’am,” my voice was thready as I kept my eyes on her. That was when I noticed a wandering hand going down my chest and towards the hem of my shirt. And then I remembered, we had a guest.

“Well, maybe this one time she doesn’t want to be manhandled,” Aaron spoke softly as he slipped his hand under my shirt. My breathing grew ragged as I looked over at him. My eyes were wide as I stared at him. "Isn't that right, Princess?" he asked as he rested his hand over my bra.

“Please,” I whimpered, not taking my eyes off him. I ignored Emily as she stood above me, taking in what was happening between her girlfriend and her superior. Part of me thought she liked it. But, I know Emily well enough to know that she doesn't like it when people play with things that belong to her.

Aaron’s smile grew soft as his fingers finally touched the soft tissue of my breast. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief and let my eyelids flutter shut. He was doing a great job for a minute there. My legs pressing together the longer he went on.

That was until there was a sudden absence under my shirt. My eyes snapped open and I instantly looked at Emily. She looked down at me, a wicked grin on her lips.

“What… What was that for?” I whispered, staring at her. She smiled at me before looking up at Aaron. I glanced at Aaron and noticed he was looking back at her with the same smile as Emily. I didn’t appreciate the way they were silently having a conversation with each other with their eyes. They did that a lot too, especially at the office.

I’m not sure what I was expecting them to do…. But I wasn’t expecting them to kiss. My mouth fell agape and my eyes widened more than before. I almost jumped out of my seat to protest, but Emily was quick to rest a hand on my shoulder to keep me in my place. I struggled watching them. Emily’s hand pressed on his chest before pushing it over his chest, then up over his shoulder under his jacket.

“Emily,” I whined, watching her finally push his jacket over his shoulders, but not yet off his frame. I stared at them as I grew increasingly impatient. “This isn’t fair,” I cried before I bit my lips together. It was getting impossible to not get frustrated at that moment. Watching two people, who I wanted to ruin me, kiss right there in front of me was so hard. They both knew that too. It was her form of tourture to me. Punishment for how I stared at Aaron before I left the BAU.

Of course, Emily knew any thought I had. She read my mind back at the office, when I was staring at Aaron the way I was. She probably knew that I had more thoughts while I was driving home. It was also probably why she brought specifically Aaron over. This was killing me.

The pair parted before they lowered to the ground on either side of me. My body instantly turned towards Emily, someone who I was familiar with in an intimate setting. She seemed happy with my action too. I just hoped Aaron wasn't upset.

"This night's about you, Kitten," Emily whispered as she carefully ran her fingers through my hair. I hummed happily as I leaned closer to her. Our faces were inches apart, and all I wanted to do was kiss her. I wanted to kiss her the way Aaron kissed her moments ago.

At that moment, I wanted her to do whatever to me. I was so used to it being that way. Some nights I was used for her own gratification. Other nights she would give me what I wanted, but not till she had her way with me. It was about me. But that was why Aaron was here.

"Please, Em," I whispered as I lifted a hand to her face. She smiled as I cautiously pulled her face closer to mine, our lips connecting. Again, I wasn't used to her gentleness. Although I could tell she wanted to take me right then and there. She was struggling to hold herself back. Part of me wanted her to just go for it. To take me then and there, and to let Aaron watch.

Emily hummed as she opened her mouth and further deepened the kiss. At the moment I couldn't get enough of her. My body wanting to move closer to hers. I was already willing to let her play with me.

A breath of air got caught in my throat as a hand appeared on my shoulder. I slowly moved away from Emily and looked over my shoulder at Aaron. He was waiting patiently.

I glanced at Emily, making sure it was okay before I went for him. She smiled softly and nodded. I looked back at Aaron, turning my body more to face him. I leaned into his touch the closer I got to him.

"You have to use your words, Kitten. Tell Aaron what you want," Emily whispered as she sat behind me on the chair. Her hands slowly ran up and down my back, almost causing me to forget what I was doing.

"K-kiss me… please," I whispered, trying hard to not sound too nervous. I took a deep breath as I looked up at Aaron. He looked at me before placing his hands on either side of my face.

The wind was knocked from my lungs the second his lips touched mine. My hands found their way to his tie, pulling him closer to me. His face moved with me, the light stubble he had left the slightest burn across my skin. My hands moved from his tie to his shoulders, just barely pushing off his jacket.

I was so lost in him that I forgot where I was and who was with me. I couldn’t stop the soft moan that came from me, but Aaron seemed pleasantly surprised with my reaction. A smile grew on his lips as he kept them against mine.

Then my world came to a screeching halt when Emily pulled my hair back so I was away from Aaron, and instead looking up at her. My eyes were wide as we stared at each other for a long time before either of us said anything.

"Why don't you go get ready in our bedroom for Aaron and I? We'll be in shortly, okay?" She asked as she lowered down to me. The grip she had on my hair loosened slightly. I nodded as I swallowed roughly. I knew before she even opened her mouth that I was to use my words.

"Yes, Ma'am." I nodded before stumbling to my feet. I turned and looked down at the two. The way they both looked at me gave me butterflies.

I watched as Aaron fixed his jacket, readjusting it so it was back on him. Two shades of lipstick were smeared on and around his lips. A light pink blush grew like wildfire across his cheeks.

I stared at the two for a moment longer before dropping my gaze and turning away. My feet quickly moved, bringing me to the bedroom. I tried to be even quicker when I got ready. Redoing my makeup, changing into something more… appealing. I wanted this moment to be perfect. Thank god I had showered when I got home.

When I was good, and sure, that I was ready, I sat on the dead center of the bed. My fingers anxiously pulling at the bedding beneath me. I wondered what they were talking about. Emily was probably setting down the ground rules of what would happen in the bedroom and with me. This is the first time we’ve ever done something like this. I just hope she would give a little leeway for both Aaron and I. Surely she would…

I jumped slightly and looked towards the door when it clicked open. Emily was the first to step in, coming right up to the bed. She very slowly undressed, keeping her eyes on mine while doing so. I smiled as my eyes trailed down her body. Even with her imperfections, she was still perfect to me. I didn’t even see the old scars she got from Ian Doyle, I just saw her.

I swallowed roughly, watching her crawl on the bed. She placed her hand on my shoulder, pushing me back so I was lying down. Her body hovered over mine, her arms on either side of my body. I just knew Aaron was standing behind her, watching the scene unfold.

“Now, I know I said tonight was about you, Kitten… But you still have to be my good girl and follow our rules,” her voice was low, and she had a sly smile on her lips, “Are you going to be a good girl for Aaron and I?” she asked, keeping her voice low as she looked at me. I stared up at her, suddenly feeling dizzy as she rested her hand on my face. I nodded slightly as she moved down my body. She halted her movement as she got right to the waistband of my underwear.

“You have to use your words, Kitten, you know that.” She smiled as she tilted her head to the side. I swallowed roughly as she snapped my waistband against my skin. I almost couldn’t breath as she finally slipped her hand in my panties. “Are you going to be a good girl,” she asked again as she dragged a finger up my folds.

“Y-yeah. Y-y-yes,” my voice was shaky as I spoke.

“Yes what?” Emily asked as she moved her finger around my clit. I took a deep shaky breath and nodded.

“Yes, I can be a good… A good girl for you… an-and Aaron,” I whimpered. Emily smiled again before pressing her lips to mine. Her movements between my legs moved faster as time went on.

“That’s my good girl. Aaron already knows our safe word, and knows the rules… If you’re extra good, maybe Aaron will come back.” She pressed her lips to mine when she was done talking.

A moan fell from my mouth and into hers as she slipped two fingers into my entrance. She smiled before pressing her lips down my neck and chest.

“Aaron, are you undressed yet?” Emily spoke against my skin. My lungs constricted and felt like they were on fire the longer she touched me. Her free hand lightly touched across my chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Emily,” I whimpered, my hands instantly gripping the bedding beside me. I could feel my chest tighten the deeper the breath I took. It was so hard not to make any whimpers or cries as she continued her ministrations.

The bed dipped beside me, causing me to open my eyes and look in that direction. Aaron was sitting beside me, sitting in just his boxers. He looked down at me, a soft smile on his lips.

“Hi there, Princess,” he whispered as he brought a hand to rest gently on my face. I bit my lips hard as I stared at him.

“Oh, so now you’re his Princess,” Emily spoke before Aaron could say anything else. I looked up at her with a mild fear in my eyes. She smiled before quickening her movements. “You know what you are, Kitten,” her voice was low, a hiss.

“N-n-” I was briefly cut off by a soft moan, my eyes fluttering shut and lips falling open slightly. The familiar tightness of the foreseeable end grew in my stomach. As the seconds ticked by, it got harder to be quiet.

“You’re a slut. A dirty, rotten, little slut,” she spoke her words harshly. I gasped as I looked up at her.

“No, no you’re not.” It was Aaron’s turn to talk, causing me to look up at him. His eyes were still on me, and his hand slowly moved back down my body. His hand was back where it was earlier, under my bra and over my breast. “No, you’re perfect, Princess. And you’re doing so good. I bet you feel so good right now,” he whispered as he lowered closer to my face. His face was inches from mine. I could feel his breath fan out across my skin. I just wanted his lips against mine, it was right there.

“I wouldn’t believe anything he says, Princess,” Emily mocked and scowled when Aaron and I were moments away from kissing. I swallowed roughly before moaning. “He’s just saying that because he can’t feel how wet you are. Soaked even.” She looked over at Aaron with a smirk. He looked away from me and up at Emily. I watched as he clenched his jaw as he stared at her.

“Em… Em, I’m so close… S’close...” I slurred as I clenched my muscles around her fingers. She looked back down at me with a smug smirk before she pulled her hand from between my legs. “Emily!” I whined feeling the tightness in my stomach slowly melt away.

“Not yet, Princess,” she mockingly whispered before lowering down to my lips, “Not yet,” she murmured against me before sitting up away from me. I looked at her with annoyance on my face. She looked over at Aaron with a smug smile before nodding at me.

“This is… This is torture!” I shouted as I propped myself up on my elbows. She moved from between my legs so she was straddling over my stomach. Her eyes were still on Aaron, I wished so desperately that she would look at me. She firmly pressed her hand to the center of my chest. Her other hand was lightly against my face. My heart picked up it’s pace as I stared at her, it was so hard to breathe with how she looked at me.

“You spoiled, little, brat,” Emily hissed as she squished my cheeks together. I wrinkled my nose as I stared at her. I could feel my chest lift with each breath as I stared at her. The smirk she wore on her lips made me dizzy.

“Just think about how much I’ll spoil you,” Aaron then cut in, forcing me to look over at him. Emily’s hand was still holding my face as I struggled to look over at him. “Because that’s all I want to do,” he cooed before lifting his hand to Emily’s. He glanced at Emily before gently pulling her hand off my face. “I’ll spoil you so much. You won’t even know what to do with yourself, Princess,” he whispered as he looked back down at me. He kept his eyes on me as he carefully brought a hand down my stomach to my underwear.

“Aaron,” Emily warned as she looked over at him.

“Do it,” I whispered as I stared at him. He looked between me and Emily for a moment before slipping his hand into my underwear. If Emily really didn’t want him to do this, she would have stopped him before he even touched my stomach.

I gasped lightly once his hand met my center. My back arched the slightest bit as his finger started to slowly move against me. My head fell back against the pillow as I looked up at him.

My hand went up to his head, my fingers getting lost in his hair, as I pulled him down to me. Our lips connected, and it was harsher than before. I wondered what Emily thought while she watched her superior kiss and finger her girlfriend.

I just assumed she was annoyed that someone other than her was making me feel this way. That was until I heard her soft moans come from above me. I don’t think I’ve moved away from someone so fast. I moved away from Aaron to see Emily looking down at me, with her hand down the front of her panties. I took a deep breath as I stared at her. Great, now I was the jealous one.

“Mhm mmm, nope. You get Aaron.” Emily smiled at me as she watched my facial expression change.

“Please, please,” I half whined-half moaned. My head fell back against the pillow, and my mouth opened a little bit. It was so hard to stay quiet the closer I got to finishing.

Aaron’s hand appeared back on my face as he guided me to look at him. That was when Emily rolled off my body and laid beside me on the bed.

“You’re doing such a good job, Princess,” Aaron whispered as he pressed his lips to the side of my head. I took a shaky breath as he looked back at me before pressing his lips to mine. He seemed to eat up the moan that came from me.

“A little too nosy for me, Princess,” Emily mocked, causing me to look over at her. I could tell she was getting closer, and would probably finish before me, because that’s always what happened. It was one of our rules. “Fuck,” she moaned as she dropped her head back. I took a deep breath as I looked up at Aaron.

“Please, Aaron,” I stared at him as I bit hard on my lower lip. He looked over at Emily, looking to see if it was alright. I struggled to stay still the louder she was beside me. “No, no it’s up to-fuck… you… Please.” I could feel my hands grip the sheets hard. I wondered if I wasn’t holding the bedding if my palms would have bleed.

“It’s okay. You can do it. Cum for me, Princess,” Aaron whispered as he pushed my hair away from my face. I stared at him, watching him nod to reassure me. His hand fell from my face and landed on my breast. I cried out as my body shook.

Emily’s hands were back on me when she finished. Her hands moved quickly over my body as she pressed her lips to the side of my face and down my neck. My mind was going fuzzy the longer they both touched me.

“Mm, Daddy,” I moaned as my back arched slightly. I looked up at Emily. She looked back at me with a smile before pressing her lips to mine, making me feel really good. The overall feeling was caused because of the two people near me. But also because I was so close to finishing.

“You like that,” Aaron asked, his voice low as he spoke. His lips were still pressed against my neck while his hands still worked between my legs. I looked at Emily, and she looked back at me with an amused smirk on her lips. I really didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“I… I was talking to… to Emily,” I whispered as I looked over at him. He moved away from my neck. Emily looked around me, causing me to look back at her. Her amused smile grew smug as she looked at him. Aaron slowed his movements, forcing me to look over at him. Emily went back to letting her hands roam my body. I could feel her move one hand towards Aaron’s, helping him back to the pace he was at before.

“But… But I can call you daddy too if you want,” I whimpered as I stared at him. Aaron laughed and shook his head.

“That’s okay, Princess,” he whispered before returning his lips back to mine. A lengthy moan came from me as I finally reached my high. Emily kept her hand, and Aaron’s, between my legs for a moment as they helped me come down from my high.

“Hips up, Kitten,” Emily whispered as she moved back between my legs. I looked up at her before carefully lifting my hips off the bed. She smiled at me before hooking her fingers on my underwear and pulled them off my hips and legs. “Good girl,” she cooed as she tossed my panties towards Aaron. I glanced over at him watching as he held my underwear in one hand.

“Kitten,” Emily spoke again, causing me to look at her. She smiled before leaning closer to me. Her lips were close to mine, and I wanted so badly to just kiss her. “You’re gonna stroke Aaron’s cock while I eat you out, you understand,” she mused while her hand cupped my face. I huffed a deep breath and nodded, possibly a little too excitedly.

“Yes, ma’am. I understand,” I whispered before going to kiss her. She moved away from me before I could connect our lips. The smile she wore on her lips drove me crazy. I just wanted her.

“Is that alright with you, Aaron,” Emily asked, her fingers running up and down my inner thigh. My legs tensed up and I could feel goosebumps across my skin.

Aaron sat up more beside me, looking at Emily with a smirk before looking down at me. I stared up and between the two of them, waiting for the next activity of the night to happen.

“I think it’s more than alright, Emily.” Aaron smiled down at me as he carefully touched my face. My breathing stuttered in my chest as he cupped my chin. His thumb brushed my lower lip, pulling it down to my chin slightly. My mouth fell open slightly and my tongue stuck out. Aaron smiled before carefully pressing his thumb in the center on my mouth. My lips closed around it. I moved my tongue around his thumb and kept my eyes on his.

And then my eyes snapped shut and a soft moan got caught in my throat. Emily’s mouth attached to my pussy. Her tongue lapping at the previous mess her and Aaron had caused moments ago. It was so hard to even focus on one thing, that I had forgotten what she wanted for Aaron.

I opened my eyes and looked back at him. A small smile grew across his lips before he kissed mine. A deep breath escaped my nostrils and my eyes lightly closed. I carefully, and slowly, moved my hand across his stomach, and towards his boxers. My hand slipped under his waistband and my fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Shit,” Aaron breathed against my lips. I struggled to smile as I carefully moved my hand up and down his length. My other hand went up to his head, gently pulling his hair. This time it was Aaron’s turn to try and be quiet. But thank God he was struggling. All the sounds he made were… Heavenly.

He was so painfully hard. I felt bad it took so long for him to be touched like this. But it was worth it. Emily must have loved all the desperate sounds that were coming from Aaron and me.

I tried to keep my pace quick, but it was so hard the closer I got. I could feel his face falter against mine the lazier my movements went. It was so hard to keep my attention on anything as Emily got more enthusiastic with her actions. I, really, honestly didn’t care that I was getting lazy with Aaron. And I don’t think he did either.

A small whimper came from me, and my hand stopped moving. My free hand moved from Aaron’s head and down towards the back of Emily’s. My fingers got tangled in her hair. It was even worse, or better, when Emily hummed and sent vibrations through my body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cried out against his lips. I bit hard on my lower lip as the hand around Aaron’s cock slowed to a stop, and came. It was hard to stay quiet, not that either of them would care. Frankly, I think they rather enjoyed it, especially Aaron.

“Emily, Emily, please,” I cried when she didn’t let up and move away from me. My body squirming away from her, but failing when she placed an arm over my hips to keep me in place. Aaron kept busy by kissing my face and down my chest.

All I could do was breathe, or try to breathe. I thought everything was too much before. But this… This was too much. Once Aaron started nipping at my skin, I couldn’t even breathe. My eyes just stayed glued shut, while my body squirmed.

“Emily,” I whined, trying to lift her arm off me. She hummed, again, instead of moving away from me. It was driving me crazy! I couldn’t even do anything other than just be there, and well, enjoy myself. I don’t know why I was complaining. I was basically in heaven. Two people I… I loved were here… Worshiping me, and loving on me, and making me feel really fucking good. And I was starting to complain. It was just starting to become too much. They were good complaints… even though that’s an oxymoron.

“Come on, Princess. You’re doing such a good job.” Aaron whispered as he gently moved his hands around my body. My body shook slightly and my vision blurred white, and I finished again for the third time.

Emily came up from my legs and looked down at me. I stared at her as my body fell limp against the bed and close to Aaron. She smiled for a moment before pressing her lips to mine. I hummed and couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“I’ll be right back. Aaron,” Emily started as she looked between Aaron and I. She looked right at Aaron before leaning closer to him. “Go easy on her,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his. She climbed off the bed and grabbed her robe, slipping it on before leaving the room. I looked up at Aaron just as he looked down at me.

“W-what is she doing?” I stared at him as he moved so he was over me. My legs fell open to accommodate the space of him. But he didn’t yet answer my question. Which I was happy for because I got otherwise distracted.

My eyes trailed up and down his body, getting distracted as they landed on long bumps across his abdomen. I couldn’t help but lift my hand to trace my fingers over the old, healed wounds. They were jagged and ridgedy, like the person who put them there intended to kill him.

I almost asked what the scars were from. But then I remembered what had happened. I tried to not to feel bad, but it was hard. I did the same thing to Emily the first time we had sex. They’re things I don’t think about very often…

Aaron rested his hand over mine, forcing me to look up at him. He had a soft, yet sad, smile on his lips. He pressed his hand against mine, pressing both of them to his stomach. His semi-toned stomach was warm against the palm of my hand.

“Sorry,” I looked up at him, my eyes scanning across his face. Aaron furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head. He was careful as he lowered his face back to mine, his lips reconnecting to me. It was so weird to me how soft and gentle he was with his kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” Aaron whispered as he kept his hand on mine. I looked up at him, enjoying the way he looked back at me. There was a certain appreciation in his eyes that made me happy.

"Where'd Emily go?" I whispered as I kept my eyes on him. He stayed quiet as he looked at me, his silence giving me a clue as to what could happen. In fact, it was telling me what was going to happen. “She’s okay with it?” My voice softened as I spoke.

“She knows. We talked about it. We don’t have to do-”

“No, no I know. I mean, Aaron we made it this far. I want this.” I swallowed roughly after I spoke. Aaron smiled softly before removing his hand from mine and brought it to my face. I smiled as he lowered to my face.

For a brief moment, he moved away from me to take his boxers off. Thank God I wasn’t dead tired yet because this is the best night of my entire life and I didn’t want it to end now. Maybe after he fucked me.

Once he was back on the bed, his lips reconnected with mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, and my hands rested on his back shoulder muscles. Aaron’s arms wrapped around my lower body, holding me up to his body.

“Ready,” his voice was low and gruff as he spoke. I swallowed roughly and nodded. My face was pressed into the nape of his neck. I took a deep breath when the head of his cock pressed against the entrance of my sex.

“Oh,” I whined as he slowly moved so our hips were together. My lungs tightened as he quickly, and gently, bottomed out. We both stayed still for a moment, adjusting to each other.

I carefully wrapped my legs around his waist, and held him against my body. Aaron carefully moved his hips, making me squirm beneath him. His lips stayed on my face, moving along my jaw, over my cheeks, before moving around my neck. I swallowed back the moan as my nails dragged down his back.

Aaron’s pace was slow and steady. He wasn’t painfully slow, because he knew I’d get overstimulated, and I knew he didn’t have very long.

“Please, please,” I cried, my voice whiny as my body tensed. Aaron moved his head away from my neck and looked down at me. Even though his eyes were blown and fueled by lust, there was the sweetest look in them.

“What do you want, Princess? Tell me what you want.” He whispered as he brought a hand to cup my face. My chest heaved with each breath I took. And I jerked my hips to meet his.

“Kiss me,” I whimpered as I stared back at him. Aaron smiled before pressing his lips back to mine. I hummed as I moved a hand to the back of his head.

My whole body tensed just as Aaron’s pace grew sloppy. I knew he was getting close. The room filled with our noises and the sounds of skin hitting skin. Through groans and grunts, Aaron whispered soft things to me.

“You’re doing so… So good, Princess.” He moaned into my ear. I whimpered and nodded slightly.

I couldn’t stop myself from crying out as a familiar feeling grew in my stomach. I wasn’t exactly sure if the familiar feeling was my own oragasm, or Aaron’s. But it felt really good. Aaron’s head dropped to the bed beneath me as he groaned.

I finally took a deep breath for the first time tonight. It was such a deep breath of air that my lungs felt like they were on fire. Although my head was mildly dizzy, it felt equally as clear.

Aaron nearly had to pry my body off his to kneel away from me. I almost didn’t let him. Even though he was literally in me, I still needed someone’s touch on my body.

He fell to the bed beside me. He readjusted so a blanket was over us. I let out a deep sigh as his arms were back around me, pulling me closer to his body. We both turned to face each other, and he pressed his forehead to mine. I really appreciated that he just knew that I wanted to be held and close to another person. I hated that I was so clingy after sex… It’s Emily’s fault, honestly.

“Did you have a good time,” Aaron asked as he kept his voice low. His lips still centimeters away from mine. Our foreheads remained pressed together. And I swear I could just stay in his arms for an eternity. Emily would kill me though if she knew that.

“Yeah, that was a lot of fun. Thank you, Aaron.” I slightly opened my eyes and looked at him. He breathed out a laugh and nodded.

“You’re welcome, Princess.” Aaron smiled before pressing his lips to mine. It didn’t feel like a long time that we were like that, but our moment was cut short by the clearing of someone’s throat.

I peeled away from Aaron first and looked over my shoulder to see Emily. She stood on her side of the bed, looking down at Aaron and I. She had three bottles of water and a couple granola bars in her hands. The way she looked down at us with a joyful look in her eyes. How long had she been standing there watching us?

“Wow, didn’t know you’d replace me that quick.” She smiled at us as she placed the water and snacks on her nightstand. I furrowed my eyebrows as I moved away from Aaron.

“You were the one who left me,” I scoffed as she sat beside me. Emily smiled before pressing her lips gently to mine. “Thank you,” I whispered against her lips.

“Anything for you, Kitten,” she smiled before pressing her lips to mine again, “Now, drink up. You did a lot of strenuous activity. I don’t want you getting any cramps. You too, Aaron,” Emily grabbed two bottles of water and handed them over to Aaron and me. I grumbled quietly as I cracked the lid off my bottle.

“What was that, Kitten?” Emily watched as I sipped my water.

“Mmm, nothing. Thank you for the water, Emily.” I smiled as I held up the water bottle. Emily smirked at me and shook his head.

“That’s what I thought. Now, hurry up. I want to cuddle,” she sighed deeply as she looked between me and Aaron. I looked over at Aaron with a raised eyebrow.

“Jeez, didn’t know you could be so needy,” Aaron spoke into his water bottle. I tried not to sputter my water, but failed miserably.

“I swear to God, you two are children,” Emily scoffed and shook her head. I looked back at her with a smile.

“Yeah, but you love us… Well me anyway.” I went up to her to kiss her. She glared at me as she took my water bottle. I smiled as I shimmied down the bed, pulling the blanket over my body. Emily looked down at me before moving closer to me to cuddle.

My body instantly clung to Emily's. Her arms were wrapped around my body, holding me as close as she could. Aaron was quick to put his bottle down and wrap his arms around me. I could tell it would be a fight to the death for cuddles. I couldn’t stop the smug smile that grew across my lips.

"Can we do this more often?" I murmured into Emily's skin. She laughed and nodded.

"Of course we can. But I think that's a question for Aaron, Kitten," Emily spoke softly as her hand brushed down the back of my head. I hummed, not really wanting to turn to ask him. I could feel Aaron breathe out a laugh as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

I looked up at him, the smugness in my smile turning shy. Aaron looked down at me, his smile warm and friendly. I sighed deeply as I stared at him.

“Yes, Princess,” Aaron spoke as he lifted a hand to rest gently on my face. I wasn’t sure if he was answering my question or asking me. So I just stayed quiet. “We can do this as often as you’d like.”

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

#shadow posts stuff #shadow writes stuff #masterlist #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fan fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fan fiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fan fic #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x reader x emily prentiss

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the-bugs-under-ur-skin · 3 years

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Kel, Sunny and Hero w a S/O who sings rock music HCs - Omori

you request was fine! i love the concept, it’s very cute! thank you so much for supporting me and for requesting, you’re amazing! :)

[yandere Kel x reader]

-Kel is probably the most supportive of the group

-he’s super proud of you, bragging to everyone in the neighborhood about how amazing you are

-if you have any sort of merchandise, he’ll get all he can of it

-he would love to have a shirt that reminded him or you, and if people complimented it, he’d puff his chest and and ramble about you for at least 30 minutes

-he’d love hearing you play, so if you ever play at any live shows don’t even try to hide it from him because he’s going to find out

-honestly, stuff like hard/metal rock would be a better genre than most for him because of how hype he is at your shows

-he’s the kind of guy you hear in live shows that scream “WOO!” during the quieter parts of the song so hopefully that won’t throw you off

-hopefully you’re fine with just playing something for him while he just stares at you so intensely that it’s awkward, because he’s definitely going to that

-he’s definitely going to be amazed if you write you’re own songs in front of him

-although, you probably shouldn’t ask him for constructive criticism because he’s just going to be obsessed with anything you write

-Kel will always be the most supportive of the group, wanting you to be happy and proud of your work

-and he doesn’t even mind if you have fans! he likes getting to brag that you already chose him to be your partner

-and don’t worry about any creeps coming by, he’s your own personal body guard!

-and he’ll make sure no one lays a hand on you

[yandere Sunny x reader]

-stoppp why do i see him being jealous

-he just knows that there is someone simping over you and he absolutely hates it

-he’s extra clingy and protective of you, watching out for any creeps

-try to hold him back though, because he’s going to start getting hostile at normal fans

-although, he’s kind of a hypocrite because he’s a big fan too

-he’s so impressed when you write songs from scratch; even if it’s heavily inspired, he’ll be absolutely amazed by it all

-he just silently watches as you pour your soul into your passion and he’s stunned

-and if you sing, that’s just the cherry on top

-PLEASE sing him to sleep, he’ll fall asleep almost instantly

-he’s in total bliss; resting against you and feeling your warmth while you sing softly to him

-Sunny is the most conflicted of the group

-he absolutely enjoys your craft, but also despises anyone who enjoys it too

-it’s definitely a wild ride for you, your boyfriend will be (albeit silently) hyping up your work and then suddenly get a look of dread when you actually go for it

-just try your best to reassure Sunny that you appreciate him, and he’ll be fine

-that doesn’t stop him from following you around and stalking you every time you leave the house, but at least it’s something

[yandere Hero x reader]

-Hero is definitely worried about you becoming a celebrity

-after all, he is one of the most protective yanderes

-so he’s almost always nervously looking over at you in public to see if you’re getting attacked or not

-other than that, Hero is completely on board with you singing rock as much as you want

-whenever you aren’t around, he obsessively repeats any songs you sing over and over again until his ears bleed

-no matter how heavy or hardcore the rock you sing is, he’s always going to compare it to that of an angel, he loves it

-he’ll never get over how amazing you are when you sing, anytime he takes a listen to your music he’ll smile and kick his feet a little

-and since you write you’re own songs, why don’t you write one specifically for Hero?

-it would not matter if the song literally curses him out, he’ll just melt because you wrote your own song for him

-Hero will always swoon over you as if you both aren’t dating and he’s just another fan

-just promise not to break up with him once you get famous, okay?

-because he really wouldn’t know what to do without you

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere omori #yandere omori x reader #yandere hero #yandere hero x reader #hero x reader #yandere sunny #yandere sunny x reader #sunny x reader #yandere kel #yandere kel x reader #kel x reader #omori x reader

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glitchy-anime-fan · 3 years

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Some of my Mello headcanons because why not

Most of these are just kinda random or stupid inside jokes between me and my friend. Also some of them are based on if Mello and Matt survived in the series. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Feel free to take this as platonic or romantic!

Mello only eats milk chocolate. He tried dark chocolate once and said it was “too bitter”

He had tried one of those organic chocolate bars or whatever that’s only got like 75% chocolate in it, but it “ruined” dark chocolate for him

He also just hates white chocolate. The only way he’ll eat it is if it’s on something else like a bonbon or pretzels, but even then those treats won’t be the first on his snack list

Mello made Matt go on a chocolate run once b/c he was running low and they weren’t expecting a restock until a few days later

In a moment of sleep deprived confusion, Matt accidentally bought dark chocolate instead of milk chocolate

It wasn’t a lot, maybe only five or six bars, just enough to tide Mello over until the restock came in. Yet Mello was still upset that it wasn’t milk chocolate

Mello ate the chocolate anyway because he wasn’t going to waste it (or make the already tired Matt return to the store), but he made a point to complain about it the entire time

Mello says that Hershey’s special dark chocolate is okay. He wouldn’t eat a whole bar as a first choice, but the occasional little snack sized bar is okay

Mello is a big rock fan (if the leather wasn’t obvious enough), and while he doesn’t have a favorite sub genre, he does enjoy indie and 80’s rock

Some of his favourite bands are Mother Mother, AC/DC, and MCR

He has one Spotify playlist that he listens to religiously that’s just all his favourite songs and he adds to it constantly

Sometimes if he’s really focused on his work, he’ll listen through the entire playlist and end up in the “songs based off your playlist” playlist

Usually he doesn’t realize he’s listened through the whole list until he hits a song he doesn’t really like and goes to skip it (b/c he rarely skips songs)

Every now and again Matt will take Mello’s phone and just add really random songs to Mello’s playlist

I’m talking songs like the Pokémon rap, songs by the living tombstone, lofi music, etc.

He does it to both mess with Mello (he finds it funny when the blonde actually realizes what songs were added), and as a fun little way to give Mello a break from the rock music

Even though Mello acts annoyed, he never skips any of the songs Matt adds and never deletes them from the playlist

Mello isn’t a big cuddlier (blame the way he was raised at Wammy’s)

Though if you can get him to relax and cuddle with you, he can be pretty docile. He may whine, squirm, and curse at first, but eventually he’ll give in to his fate and relax.

Whenever Matt can tell Mello is having a really stressful day, he will grab Mello, turn on a cheesy movie and force Mello to cuddle with him

Of course Mello will scream, hit, and insult Matt, but the gamer’s heard it all and knows Mello doesn’t mean it. He also knows the blonde will eventually relax so Matt doesn’t take it to heart

Besides, Matt enjoys seeing his partner relax for once especially when Mello falls asleep with his head in Matt’s lap so a few empty insults is nothing

Despite being incredibly intelligent…Mello will occasionally do kinda stupid things

Like sometimes he is stuck in a situation where he brain just kinda doesn’t analyze it like it normally would, and Mello ends up doing really dumb shit

For example; Mello once broke one of prongs off his laptop charger and the little metal bit was stuck in the outlet

For whatever reason, may it be sleep deprivation, stress, or combination of the two, instead of turning off the electricity through the breaker box…Mello threw the tv remote at the outlet

Granted…it worked…the prong came out of the outlet…but it wasn’t the smartest idea

Matt was very confused when he came home to a broken outlet cover and remote, but then laughed for like two hours when Mello explained what happened

Matt has yet to let Mello live this fiasco down and will tease his partner about it whenever he can

Of course it’s not often that Mello has these “off” days, but when he does it’s usually attributed to a lack of sleep or too much stress

Matt is more likely to throw a remote at the outlet though ngl

As much as he hates to admit it, Mello gets flustered easily.

Once again, blame how he was raised in Wammy’s house, but Mello is not used to affection and becomes flustered when he’s shown any form of it.

Matt once called Mello “cute” when he walked in on the blonde actually looking relaxed. Mello’s face went 50 shades of tomato red and he nearly threw his laptop mouse at Matt.

Now Matt makes it his job to show Mello any form of affection, usually in the form of cute little terms of endearment or cuddling

To this day Mello will still blush any time he is shown affection, but he is slowly starting to get use to it

At least, he’s getting used to when Matt is showing him affection

Mello is ticklish as fuck. It’s mainly isolated to his sides and he’s so ticklish that just ghosting your hands by his sides will have him jumping.

Other then cuddles, tickling Mello is one of Matt’s ways to get the blonde to feel better when he’s upset.

Matt will usually only tickle Mello until he can tell the blonde is feeling better, but sometimes if they’re just messing around Matt may get hit

Matt also sometimes just forgets how ticklish Mello is and has gotten hit b/c the gamer ghosted his hands to close to Mello’s sides

Mello does apologise when he does hit Matt. Matt usually laughs it off and they go on with their day.

So we all know Mello and Matt grew up in London right? Well, when Mello left for America he tried his hardest to get rid of his accent

He did eventually succeed while he was with the mafia, but his accent will occasionally slip out when he gets really upset

Sometimes Matt teases Mello incessantly just so he can hear Mello’s accent return. Matt thinks the accent is cute. Mello hates it.

Mello and Matt’s favourite tv show is Victorious, change my mind! 😤

If you want to read more about this, check out this post

These are all the things I can think of at the moment. I may make a part two if my friend gives me any other funny ideas.

If anyone else has any wholesome Mello (or Matt) headcanons…uh let me know! I would love to hear them!

#death note #miheal keehl #mail jeevas #mellodramattic #matt x mello #dn mello #dn matt #death note headcanons #mello headcanons #wholesome anime headcanons

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Something Different

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer go on their first date. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex- creampie) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 5.9k

NOTE: This was my favorite part to write so far! I hope you all love it as much as I do! I have a little epilogue planned next, and I’m not sure when it’ll be up, but I’ve really loved seeing how much you enjoyed this series! Thank you for reading! 🥰

***

Y/N had never felt as much like a teenage girl as she did that Friday night. She stood in front of her floor-length mirror, smoothing out her dress and contemplating whether or not she should change. For the seventh time. And she'd been on dates before, but this time was different. Usually she barely knew the guys she'd gone on first dates with, but she'd already slept with this guy. On more than one occasion. And every time she did, she felt herself fall deeper and deeper under his spell. She wasn't sure if he knew the full effect of what he was doing to her, always taking up space in every crack and crevice of her thoughts until she felt like she couldn't breathe.

And that was what made this date different from all the rest. She knew Spencer. She liked Spencer. And she was almost positive that after this date she would be, at the very least, a little bit in love with Spencer.

At that thought, Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest, suddenly invested in the act of making him feel the same way, if he wasn't already.

So she reverted back to her original outfit choice, something she at first thought was too sexy for a first date, but ultimately was the boldest and best option. It was satin and deep violet in color, the fabric clinging to her body in every best way possible. It landed mid-thigh and the neckline was low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage without it being too overwhelming. Her father would have told her it looked more like a dish towel than a dress, and that fact alone was enough to convince Y/N that it was just perfect. It did have thin straps though, and it was freezing as hell at night, so she added a black cardigan that added just the right amount of elegance and warmth to the look.

She paired the whole look together with black pumps and threw her hair up in a loose clip, made for easy taking-down if the night ended as well as she hoped.

Just as she was applying the last of her makeup—simple black eyeliner and mascara, complimented with tinted cherry lip balm rather than lipstick—there was a knock on the door.

"Just a second!" she called out, rushing to spritz on some vanilla perfume and give herself a final onceover in the mirror. With a final deep breath, she switched off the lights and made her way to the door, silently praying that she wouldn't fall on her face.

"Hey, pretty gi— oh..."

The second she saw Spencer in the doorway, Y/N felt her insides swarm with butterflies. The way he took her in, completely captured by her presence as his eyes couldn't decide where to linger longest utterly wrecked her.

And he looked... God, if he wasn't the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. And of course she'd seen him in some rather beautiful positions prior to right then, but his hungry eyes, practically claiming her as his own as they raked her figure accompanied by the outfit he wore and the way his hair perfectly framed his face in soft waves... It felt like she was bathing in sunlight.

He wore a white undershirt and navy suit jacket, the tie the same color only accented with red stripes, and black dress pants. If she had to describe it, she would have said he looked like he came right of the page of a magazine, and even that wasn't generous enough. She knew she should say something to break the silence that had fallen between them, but she couldn't even remember her own name.

Thankfully Spencer seemed to get a hold of himself before she did, saying, "You look... amazing. A-and that's not even the right word, I... Wow."

Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot, playing with the hem of her cardigan. "Thanks, you... You look great, too. Um, let me go grab my purse, I'll be right back."

"Wait, before you do..."

She hadn't even noticed his hand was behind his back until he brought it out, bringing with it a small gathering of flowers. Lavenders. "You brought me lavenders?" she inquired, taking them with a smile. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Spencer seemed to rock on his feet nervously. "They're generally known for their relaxation properties, and, you know, I figured since we always seem to end up talking about de-stressing, they seemed fitting."

Y/N laughed, her face growing warmer. "That's perfect, I love them. I'm gonna go find a vase for these real quick."

As she rummaged through her cabinets for something even remotely resembling a vase, she settled on a tall mason jar she had in the back, filling it with water and placing the flowers inside, letting it perch on the kitchen counter. When she turned around she found that Spencer had made his way inside, the door closed behind him. "Unfortunately they won't last very long without soil, water, and sunlight, but if they dry up you could always use them for decorations. I noticed you have lots of dried plants in your apartment."

With a smile, she grabbed her purse off the coat rack in the living room. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I do. I've always loved pressing flowers and stuff. My mom and I used to do it all the time when I was younger, and I guess it stuck."

"That's really nice. It's definitely better than the clutter of my apartment," he says with a laugh as they both make their way to the door.

"Oh, I don't know. I like your clutter, it's rather charming."

He laughed as he opened the door and stepped aside so she could walk through. "You've only been to my apartment once, and we were a bit... occupied for you to notice, so how would you know?"

They paused in the hallway as she closed the door and looked up at him, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. She grabbed the end of his tie and tugged it a little, turning it over in her fingers as she stared at him. "Trust me, Spencer, it's hard to believe that anything about you isn't charming."

It was his turn to blush, his smirk transforming into a shy smile. She let go of his tie and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before leading him down the hallway.

***

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were surprised," Y/N said once the waiter left to grab their drinks.

"Oh, I-I guess I just... I don't know why, it's just that I didn't... expect you to be a white wine person, that's all."

"You can tell what kind of wine I like?" she laughed.

Spencer returned it, brushing some of the hair from his face. "Well, I guess not, since I pegged you wrong..."

She shrugged. "You don't have to be embarrassed about that, I wouldn't expect you to have known."

"Oh, I'm not embarrassed, it's just that usually I'm better at reading people, that's all."

"Is that right?" Y/N mused, leaning forward a little. She smiled at him. "How come?"

Spencer swallowed before answering. "Well, my job... I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, so my team and I study human behavior to catch killers."

Holy shit, that's so hot, she thought, silently hoping she didn't say that out loud. "Wow, so... you're a total badass, then. I gotta say, G-man, that's impressive."

He blushed under the dim light of the restaurant lights. He'd picked out this nice Italian place not too far from their apartment. Y/N had always wanted to go because she loved Italian food, but it was always too expensive and she never really had the time. When Spencer had suggested it, she practically begged him not to, insisting that she didn't want to make him spend so much money on her. In turn he told her, "I don't mind, you're worth spending a little money on," and that was that. Still she felt a little guilty, but he didn't seem to mind one bit. Not to mention the place was absolutely beautiful, easily one of the nicest places she'd ever been to. So if he was willing to do all this just to spend some time with her, then Y/N figured it was a good sign.

"What about you, what exactly is it that you do?"

Y/N shrugged a little. "Oh, well it's no fancy badass government job, but I work at a music store downtown. I just got promoted, so I'm an associate manager."

"Oh, that's great! What kind of music do you like?"

The way he genuinely looked so interested in what she had to say made her heart swell. She cleared her throat before answering. "My parents raised me on Classic Rock, so my brain is pretty much just made up of Queen lyrics, but... I listen to a little of everything. There isn't much I don't like, really, save for maybe hardcore metal. Though, some of it I've heard is okay."

Spencer laughed a little. "That's nice. I don't really listen to a variety of things, mostly classical, but... I don't know, maybe you could... introduce me to some of your favorites? Broaden my horizons?"

He almost sounded shy asking, but that only made the sentiment more endearing. Y/N smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. "Anytime, G-man."

The waiter came back with the wine then, and they got to ordering. Y/N ordered a lemon chicken piccata while Spencer settled on pasta alla norma. Of course they had a side of breadsticks and they each got a small tomato soup to sip on while they waited.

They continued to chat about their favorite things, anywhere from as general as their favorite books and movies to as random as their favorite flowers and candle scents. It was nice getting to know these tiny details. And normally this type of small talk was awkwardly necessary and devastatingly tedious, but with Spencer it felt effortless. She liked telling him about her favorite things, no matter how small they were, and just the same she liked listening to him. The way he spoke, his eyes lighting up as he talked about what made him happy made Y/N warm, feeling once again that night like she was bathing in sunlight.

That's what he was. The human embodiment of pure sunlight.

As they ate they talked a little bit about their childhoods. Spencer mentioned how it was mostly just him and his mother, and he almost seemed a little sad when he talked about it. She wanted to let him keep going, but at some point she realized that he was getting a little emotional and uncomfortable, so she made a point to respectfully change the subject, in turn telling some embarrassing childhood stories of her own. For one thing, she loved telling anyone about how she angrily chucked a remote at her brother when they were kids and gave him a permanent scar on his forehead, but ultimately she loved seeing Spencer smile, and she knew that the story would do the trick. It always did.

"Why did you do it?" he laughed after swallowing a bite of his food.

Y/N shrugged with a smile. "He was bugging me about wanting to watch something else, and it just annoyed me so badly that I decided I had enough. I should have been sorry, too, especially after being yelled at, but I really thought he deserved it. And now when people ask why he has this big-ass scar on his forehead, he has to tell them that his big sister chucked a remote at his head. It embarrasses him and it amuses me, so..."

Spencer laughed a little harder, setting his fork down and folding his hands together. "Sounds... like an interesting childhood."

"Yeah, that's putting it mildly. My brother and I did a lot of roughhousing, which would make more sense if he was the older one, but what are you gonna do?"

"So... What, you put him in headlocks and pinned him to the ground like a wrestler all the time?" he asked with an amused laugh.

"Yeah, something like that," she laughed right back.

"Well, I hope he hasn't sustained too much injury permanently over the years... Maybe one day I can ask him about it."

The thought of Spencer meeting her family gave her more butterflies, and it became evident that he was feeling the same way, because he blushed almost immediately after he said it.

"You two would probably get along really well, actually. He loves true crime and stuff, so I'm sure he'd love to talk to you about your job if that's not too forward. Plus, he reads more than I do, so I'm sure you'd find something else in common there."

"Yeah, that sounds great. I like him already."

She smiled, her heart still beating exponentially fast. A small part of her wondered if maybe talk of meeting family members was going too far for a first date, and on any other first date it would've been. But Spencer seemed to be genuinely entertaining the idea of meeting and discussing some of his life with her brother, and that was what flipped the switch. She was starting to feel it. She was starting to fall in love with him.

***

When the two of them got in the car, Spencer turned on the radio before they started their journey home— a Classic Rock station. Y/N smiled, immediately recognizing the melody to, coincidentally enough, her favorite Queen song, Who Wants To Live Forever. She told him as much.

He turned the volume up and started driving, listening to her sing along softly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him turning his head every once in a while, obviously sneaking a glance at her enjoying her favorite music. The thought sent a bloom of warmth through her chest as the song faded out and started playing Photograph by Def Leppard. Spencer turned the radio down just a little and nodded, turning down the street.

"I like it. I can see why it would be your favorite."

"This is another one of my favorites, too," she replied with a gentle nod towards the radio, giving him a smile. "A lot of these songs probably will be, though, I've practically been spoon-fed Classic Rock radio since I was a baby."

Then she noticed where they were. A street she didn't recognize. "Where are we going?" she asked, looking around.

"Oh. I-I know I only really promised to take you out for dinner, but there's somewhere else I wanted to show you... If that's alright?"

"It's more than alright," she reassured, placing a hand on his arm and wondering where he planned to take her.

He took her hand in his and continued down the road, the radio shuffling through more songs that Y/N recognized and sang along to. At one point she made a point of dramatically serenading Spencer with Love Song by Tesla, air guitar-ing and everything.

Soon enough they were out where she couldn't see any buildings and only a few streetlights. Y/N hummed softly along to the radio, holding Spencer's hand once again as he pulled the car over down a random road and under this large tree. In front of them she could clearly see the sun setting over the skyline, illuminating everything around them in a soft orange glow.

"It's beautiful out here," she mused as Spencer turned off the car, the radio with it.

"Yeah, I, uh... I was in a particularly stressful point in my life a few years ago, and one day I just drove aimlessly. I don't normally drive at all, but I needed something new, something different to do that I could focus on, and I just ended up here. It's one of my favorite places."

She looked over at him and smiled, running her thumb over his hand. "I find that some of the best things in life happen when you try something different."

His eyes softened as she spoke, squeezing her hand and leaning his head against the seat. "You're right. That's... actually how I got you, know know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mhm... Yeah, I didn't even want to confront you about hearing what happened that night because I thought it would be too awkward, but... I don't know, I guess there was just something that felt right about the whole thing, like... like it was an opportunity to get to know someone new. And I couldn't stop thinking about knocking on your door and getting to know everything about this woman who likes to invade other people's privacy." He laughed as he said that last part, obviously teasing her about the whole thing, and she laughed with him.

"Well, then I guess that means I don't have to be embarrassed about that anymore," Y/N noted. "I felt absolutely awful about it, you know."

"Oh, I know. You were practically the color of a tomato when I gave you that Advil."

They laughed together as the sun sunk lower in the sky, and as the air between them grew silent, they just stared at each other, smiling. Even as the sun was leaving, Y/N could still feel its warmth radiating in the form of Spencer's presence.

***

They walked up to her door hand in hand, laughing about a joke she'd told him when Y/N realized the night was potentially over. The thought silenced her laughter, and suddenly she was nervous, like she hadn't already considered that the night would eventually have to end somewhere.

"I... I had a really great time tonight, Spencer, thank you. "

He smiled shyly in that way of his that made her just as shy. It was sickeningly cliché, she thought, feeling this way about a man she'd only just started to get to know, but she welcomed those feelings nonetheless. He was so obviously infatuated with her in a way she hadn't felt before, and it made her nervous because she didn't know how to react. All she could do was welcome and embrace his adoring glares and little touches and compliments, and hope that he knew in turn just how much she appreciated and adored him all the same.

His free hand reached out and cupped her cheek, to which she happily leaned into. "I did, too," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "We should do it again some time."

She smiled against his hand, and she didn't realize it then, but they were closer than they had been all night, toe to toe. "We should."

The world stopped for all of two seconds before he leaned down to kiss her. But something embarrassingly stopped her from letting it happen, pulling her face away just a little. "Wait. My breath probably smells like breadsticks."

Hardly the most romantic thing to say, and she regretted it the second it left her mouth.

Spencer only shrugged, smiling amusedly. "Who doesn't like breadsticks?"

That made her laugh. Hard. And she was still laughing as she pulled him closer and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

When he kissed her back, it was head-dizzyingly sweet, his hands softly brushing over her cheeks as she melted into him. Every time his lips parted, he came back stronger, pressing his lips and tongue to hers with slow, methodical precision.

She could have died right there.

But eventually they pulled apart, and she looked up at him with as much gratefulness as she could provide. "Look, I... I know it's not typically customary to sleep over on the first date, but... What about trying something different?"

Spencer grinned at her, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Lead the way, pretty girl."

She couldn't hide her blush as she reached over and opened the door, pulling him into the apartment with her.

The door closed behind him, and Spencer kissed her again, this time using one of his hands to press her to him, resting promptly on her lower back. Their kisses were just as slow and sweet as they had been in the hall, though there was a slightest shift in the atmosphere, bringing forth a newfound passion behind each of their movements.

His tongue traced over her bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and tilted his head to the other side, pulling her even closer to him than she thought could be possible. They both stumbled around the living room as they kicked off their shoes. Y/N got significantly shorter after removing her heels, so Spencer bent down and lifted her off the ground, setting her on the back of the couch. Her dress had ridden up to the tops of her thighs so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She slid her cardigan off at the same time he slid off his jacket, their lips still adjoined. Once they were removed, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again, and he brought his arms under her ass as he lifted her off the couch

She expected the journey to her bedroom to be rocky, stumbling into furniture and walls and tripping, but was glad to be proven wrong when suddenly she was swiftly seated on her bed, Spencer standing between her legs.

He pulled away from her for all of two seconds before kneeling and pressing kisses to the insides of her right leg, starting at her ankle and trailing all the way up past her knee and eventually to her thigh. His hands reached up to grip the bed as he looked up at her and pressed kisses to her other thigh. Hoping to give him more access, she used her hands to pull her dress up even higher, scooting out from under her butt and bunching up at her hips as she spread her legs a little wider.

He smiled against her inner thigh, running one of his hands over the other. "Patience, pretty girl. I want to take my time with you tonight."

The way he said it made her shiver, and her head leaned back as she leaned back on her hands, feeling Spencer continue his exploration. His mouth travelled from thigh to thigh, doing just about everything he could think of—kissing, licking, biting... One of her hands found themselves in his hair as she sighed out, "Please, Spencer..."

For a moment she thought he wouldn't give it to her, if only because she wasn't specific enough and that had become part of their sexual routine, but this time he granted her what she wanted, one of his hands reaching up and ghosting along her clit through the fabric of her panties.

She instinctually rutted her hips forward at the contact, which made him laugh softly, and before too long, he hooked his finger in the waistband of her underwear, sliding up her dress just a little so he could reach. She lifted herself off the bed so he could bring them out from under her, and he slowly, very slowly, slid them down her legs. His lips travelled up her leg again, taking the same care and curiosity as he had before, each second burning impatiently through Y/N's body as she took it all in.

Right as his nose brushed over her clit, he pulled away, leaving her cold and desperate. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, running a hand through his hair and silently pleading to do something.

He smiled and stood up, pressing a kiss to her neck before whispering in her ear, "Will you ride my face for me, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," she breathed before she could think, and he laughed, his breath sending goosebumps down the right side of her body.

Spencer got up on the bed and leaned back, his head resting on the pillows as Y/N straddled him, hiking her dress up over her hips and stroking the hair from his face before hovering over it. Before she could do anything, his hands wrapped up over her thighs and pulled her down to him, not wasting any time getting to work.

The initial contact jolted her awake, and she cried out, reaching forward and grabbing the top of the headboard as she ground down on him. His tongue plunged deep into her while his nose pressed against her clit, and the more she moved, the more his tongue drew patterns, wanting to taste every inch of her until she was shaking around him. And that's exactly what happened. His tongue came up to flick and swirl over her clit, and right when he wrapped his lips around it and started softly sucking, she cried out. "I'm gonna— ohh..."

He hummed into her, encouraging her to finish, and she did, clenching her thighs around his head as he shook it back and forth, lapping up every last drop of her arousal until her thighs lost their grip. She lifted up off of him, but he brought her back down to run his tongue through her pussy a few more long, meaningful times. He finally let go of her legs, and she kneeled beside him, catching her breath.

Looking down at him she noticed how wonderstruck he was, running his tongue along his lips to still taste her, his eyes searching hers hungrily before she leaned down and kissed him. The taste of herself on his mouth made her groan, and he reached up to pull the clip from her hair. It tumbled down in a curtain around them before he tossed the clip aside and ran his hands through it, gathering it all to one side and pulling her closer to him.

As he kissed her, she brought her hand to his chest, working at his tie and struggling to get it off. He laughed against her mouth and sat up to do it for her, breaking their kiss apart. Has he undid the tie and the first few buttons of his shirt, Y/N reached back to grab the zipper of her dress, but Spencer stopped her.

"Wait. Can I?"

She nodded, turning around.

"Stand up for me," he told her.

Y/N got off the bed and felt Spencer behind her, his hands brushing her hair out of the way and slowly zipping her dress down, pressing kisses down each inch of skin that exposed in its wake, all the way to her lower back. His hands slid up her back and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then tugged the dress down to watch it fall on the floor, leaving her completely bare.

He kissed her neck and ran his hands up and down her body, eventually reaching around to cup her breasts. She sighed at his touch, leaning back against him as he rolled her nipples in between his fingers. Her hands reached back to wrap around his back and pull him flush against her, the unmistakable feeling of his hardening dick through his pants pressing against her bare ass.

"I love how soft your skin is, pretty girl," he murmured into her neck, sliding his lips down to her shoulder and biting down. She sucked in a breath, her hands removing themselves from his back and placing themselves over his own, feeling the veins strain as they kneaded her breasts. His tongue traced over where he bit down before he kissed the same spot, then he worked his mouth back up her neck and reached her jawline. She turned her head, meeting his lips and pressing herself further into him, whining at every single sensation coursing through her veins.

Eventually she'd had enough and turned fully around, breaking apart from him just to come back. She faced him and wrapped her arms around his neck once more. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she stopped him, pulling her head back and using one of her hands to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. "Tonight's your lucky night, you know..."

At her teasing tone, Spencer laughed, his eyes searching hers before giving in. "Why's that?"

She used the hand that wasn't in his hair to slide over his shoulder and down his chest, drawing patterns across the bare skin he'd left exposed after undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Then she smiled, bringing herself closer and gripping the collar. "Because I'm on birth control now..." She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his, feeling them just barely as she whispered, recalling what he'd told her a few weeks ago. "You still wanna fill up this slutty little pussy? Make me yours?"

He didn't give a second thought. Before she was aware of what was happening, Spencer had his lips crashed against hers and his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her forward so that the tent in his pants pressed right up into her bare crotch. She gasped against his mouth and reached down to take the rest of his shirt all the way off, and he let her.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons, severely close to just giving up and ripping the shirt apart but she got there in the end, sliding the fabric off his shoulders and tossing it God-knows-where as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She trailed her hands softly down his chest and stomach, making him shiver, and she relished in the feeling of his lean figure tensing under her touch. She scratched her nails along the lower part of his stomach before touching his belt, and then he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.

"Sit on the edge of the bed," he commanded softly against her lips.

Y/N pulled away reluctantly, immediately missing his bodily warmth before doing as she was told and perching herself patiently at the edge of the bed.

Spencer got off his knees, climbed out of bed, and stood on the floor, coming over to her and placing himself between her legs once more. Only this time, he towered over her rather than kneeled. His hands unbuckled his belt while his eyes bore into hers, the anticipation of what was to come as high strung as it had ever been.

He pulled his pants and underwear down in one swift motion, and right a he kicked them to the side, Y/N reached out, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer. One of his hands gripped his hard cock while the other found purchase in her hair, brushing it behind her shoulders and resting at the base of her neck as he leaned down and pushed her back onto the bed. She scooted back just far enough for Spencer to kneel on the edge of the bed, her legs instinctually wrapping around his waist once more as he kissed her.

Her hands brushed the hair from his face and stayed weaved there, whimpering with anticipation as he ran the tip of his cock along her pussy, just as slowly as he'd done everything else so far. He broke their kiss apart and pushed the tip in, not going any farther than that. "I told you, pretty girl, I'm taking my time with you tonight. I want this to last."

As his forehead rested against hers, she barely caught a glimpse of his eyes before he pushed all the way in and squeezed his eyes shut. Y/N sighed and massaged his scalp, completely aware of every inch of him as he held himself inside her. He pressed just about the sweetest kiss to her lips before setting a slow pace that gradually became faster with every passing minute. She was still a little sensitive from when he'd eaten her out, but that only added to the feeling.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Spencer breathed, pulling his head just far enough away from her so he could look her in the eyes. "You're so goddamn perfect, Y/N..."

She slid her hands down his back as he picked up his pace inside her, gasping when he hit her g-spot. "Speak for yourself," she breathed.

When she started to feel herself getting closer, Spencer seemed to notice, because he slowed his pace again and ran sloppy, passionate kisses along her jaw and neck, and she reveled in the feeling. He was all around her, consuming every fiber of her being, and she could bask in it forever if he'd let her.

"Spencer," she breathed, her hands reaching down to grip his ass as he hit inside her deeper. "Fuck... You're so good to me..."

In turn he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, moving his tongue against hers in tandem with his hips' ministrations. Her fingernails bore deeper into his skin, and it wasn't long before she started to feel an orgasm surfacing. He rested his forehead against hers again, biting her bottom lip softly as he pulled away to speak. "Almost there, pretty girl. "

Y/N removed her hands from him and brought them up to bring her face to hers again, sighing into his mouth when they reconnected. And then he grabbed her wrists softly, pinning them above her head and sliding his hands up her forearms until his fingers laced together with hers, squeezing and pushing them both closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, baby," he mumbled against her lips, and within a matter of seconds, she did. Her legs tightened around him and her ankles hooked round his waist, just above the top of his ass to keep him tightly inside her while he found his own release. "Fuck," he sighed, giving three more hard thrusts forward. He held himself inside her while he came, the warmth spreading through her being just about the best thing she'd ever felt. It was the cherry on top, the last puzzle piece falling into place, and she kissed him once more while he finished, feeling him groan in her mouth.

The two of them stayed like that, their hands still laced together and legs still tangled, and even when their lips pulled apart, their foreheads rested together while their breathing slowed.

"Have I already told you how perfect you are?" Spencer breathed, nuzzling his nose against hers.

Y/N laughed a little, nuzzling him right back. "You may have mentioned it."

"Well, it's true. Everything about you is just so..."

"Perfect?" she offered.

He laughed, kissing her once more on the lips before slowly pulling out of her and unlacing their fingers. "Yes. Perfect... But as much as I love laying here with you, UTIs are not perfect, so I'm gonna get you cleaned up. Come on."

She sat up with a grunt, not wanting to get up so soon but she knew he was right. So she let him lead her to the bathroom as quickly as they can, his cum slowly sliding down her thighs when they got there. Spencer turned on the light and closed the bathroom door, a small smile on his face as he got on his knees to help.

"I can grab some toilet pa— holy shit..." Y/N was cut off when he dragged his tongue up the inside of her leg, scooping up his mess and making his way to her pussy where he cleaned out the rest of it. She was still sensitive, so he went as gently as he could, making soft, gentle swipes of his tongue until it was mostly gone, at least not dripping down her legs anymore.

When he stood up to meet her face, she felt stunned, absolutely enraptured by everything about the man in front of her. "So, does that mean I'm officially yours now?" she asked with small laugh.

He gave her that bashful smile again, and it made her feel even better, basking in the familiarity of his boldness of sexual acts followed by instant shy demeanor. "Only if you'll have me."

Y/N grabbed his face and kissed him before looking him dead in the eye and saying, "I hope I'll always have you, G-man."

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

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fleet-admiral-hiba · 3 years

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Hi I love your headcanons with the marines and like to ask for one. How would the admirals react if they discovered that thier lovely S/O was a secret metalhead, not by looks like heavy spiky boots or super dark makeup ect, but by knowing alot of songs by heart. How will they be if they busted the S/O in rocking along their favorit metal albume, air guitar/drumming, singing, jumping around, just FEELING the music.

You went straight to my heart with this ask anon. From a fellow metalhead to another

ADMIRALS AND THEIR METALHEAD SO

SAKAZUKI /サカズキ

He was coming home, from a stressful day of work and he hoped to find you at home, maybe cooking or just doing some chores, so he could take you a side for some venting

And he kind of did find you cooking, but he wasn't expecting what he saw

You, in his shirt, having the time of your life just vibin along some music that he didn't know, singing and just enjoying yourself

He legit stood there for 10 minutes looking at you like you were an alien. But he quickly recovered, or so he thinks, and paid attention to what you were singing

"... SIGN OF POWER, SHOW OF FORCE, RAISE THE ANCHOR, BATTLESHIP PLOTTING HIS COURSE, PRIDE OF A NATION A BEAST MADE OF STEEL, BISMARCK IN MOTION..."

You were gone to the world, just singing along each and every word, banging the utensils in time with the song, and just moving along the music

He waited until you finished before making his presence known. You jumped so high cause you didn't expect to be observed.

Anyway he was pleasantly surprised or so you thought, he simply enjoyed the view. He didn't think you had it in you to be this... Wild. He took joy in hearing some words of the song, about some ships and some war, closely feeling it.

He will do it again so pay attention, you now got yourself an audience

BORSALINO /ボルサリーノ

He knew you were really passionate about music, but he didn't know to what extent

For him, he was normal to see you dance around the home most of the times, so initially he didn't pay much attention

He heard different genres falling from your lips, so he thought he knew you well enough to read your mood depending on the genre playing at home, or so he believed

So what were you feeling that had incredibly metal music playing so loud and you just air drumming around the living room, jumping and just being... What can I say? Ah yes, so... Deeply involved into the music

He heard you singing like you were praying "... RESURRECTION BY ERECTION, RAISE YOUR FALLUS AND YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO DIE, HALLELUJAH, RESURRECTION"

What on earth were you singing? And you looked at him while doing it. You managed to left him shocked for a good while. You? YOU?! His lovely and seemingly normal so was so... Intense? And the things you said? Oh wow

Legit you thought he had a stroke there and there, cause he wasn't moving. He recovered, after a moment and sat you down to talk about what he had seen.

You were simply in the mood for some good ol metal, and that happened to be a favourite of yours. He was amazed... Yep he needed to be home more to hear you singing more

Who knows? Maybe you get him to like the songs too

KUZAN/クザン

He was sleeping or pretending to at least. You were just there chilling with him.

He had to go to buy something so he left you there just relaxing, he thought that when he would come back he would find you probably sprawled on the couch

Instead

He came back, cause he needed to buy some drinks when he saw you dancing around, head banging and singing some deep growly notes

He came in the living room to see you singing these word out loud " MAMA SAID KNOCK YOU OUT, I'M GONNA KNOCK YOU OUT" and he was confused and admittedly, a bit scared. For a minute he thought that he did something wrong

After you finish your beloved song, he will ask you if you are perhaps mad at him? And, don't worry, you explained that you just were feeling the right kind of vibe and it called for some adequate music

He will relax, and let you enjoy your time. He will look at you fondly and think about why he never thought about this side of you. He knew you liked this kind of music, but he did not think you had it in you

Will come home waiting to see you headbanging and air guitarring, and he will sometimes join you

You managed to take him to the dark side and you're hella proud of it

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #one piece masterlist #one piece scenario #one piece marines #one piece x y/n #aokiji #one piece akainu #one piece kizaru

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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Mercury Roadrunner's Interview about Freddie Mercury with Peter Freestone – Part I

Thanks very much to Mercury Roadrunner (Pavel Strashnyy) for letting me share his amazing interviews! Originally shared here. Check the tag "MR interview with Phoebe" to see the other parts.

Here are the 5 topics of this interview, beginning of each topic is written in bold:

1. Live Aid

2. The Works tour

3. "Mr. Bad Guy" album and recording period

4. "Heaven For Everyone", Freddie's habits about listening to music, opinions on Madonna, Montserrat

5. Swimming and memories about Los Angeles, Ibiza, Japan

Mercury Roadrunner: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We welcome you to the unofficial Russian Queen fan club special program. You can find our website at www.vk.com/queenrocks. I am knownn as Mercury Roadrunner. This year marks the 50th anniversary of Queen. And I’m very happy to say that this evening we have a very, very special guest here with us, and it is an opera critic, a book lover, biographer and writer, and close friend, confident and personal assistant of Freddie Mercury, Mr Peter Freestone. Hello, Peter. How are you? Peter Freestone: Hi. I am… okay. I’m good, I’m good. What can I say? I’m good. PS: You are good and you are very happy to join the other Queen fans who would be very happy to hear you finally talking. And the first topic is about your personal memories. It’s a historic date but what are your own personal memories of 13th of July, the Live Aid day, what were your feelings in general on that day? PF: For me, I suppose, it was just another show… [laughs] PS: Really? PF: Because I worked for Freddie and he was going to do a show. I didn’t separate that from all the other performers that were going to be there, that made it such an incredible day. And not only in London, when they were also performing in America as well at the same time. When the satellite was showing something from London, then it showed something from Philadelphia, then back to London again. So to say, for me it was… another day. It wasn’t even as though there were such a big show because we’d played stadiums in South America. So, it wasn’t the size of the audience. I suppose, when it really struck me what was happening was when the band went onto stage. And the roar from the crowd was absolutely amazing. Again, it wasn’t so different from normal shows because they’d actually rehearsed for their twenty minutes. You know, there was four days’ rehearsal. So to say, it was normal, it was normal work, it was a short show. But then, thing is, it was in daylight and Freddie could actually see the audience. And from the back of the stage, we could look through holes in the back, you know, the screen in the back. And we could see what the band could see. And… then it sort of struck me that, actually, this is something very special. And then I was really so very, very proud of them. At the end of their set, when, again, the audience reaction was indescribable. What they had done in those twenty minutes, they had picked up the whole audience, shook it around and put them back down again. PS: Indeed. PF: So, yeah, that was what I felt. PS: And do you remember some of Freddie’s jokes, maybe, during the day, the way he interacted with other superstars, like David Bowie or others? PF: The thing is, he [Freddie] was just one person amongst his peers, you know. All of the bands were names, they were bands. And the thing I have found, and this goes all the way – the real professionals are the most normal, approachable people on earth. It’s the wannabes who have the attitude of “Don’t you know who I am?” and who behave like stars, because stars behave like human beings. Real stars, they can be just like the rest of us. There was a time when Freddie just wanted to be on his own, you know, with just his friends, with his group of people. But I mean, there’s a few photographs of him chatting with various people, like Elton John and David Bowie. I remember seeing them with him, and Adam Ant. And, of course, he had friends along; I think Wayne Sleep was there as well. In his life, he [Freddie] needed people around him that made him laugh. And so, he still had that. David Bowie and he had been friends for so long. Elton [and he] had been friends for even longer. So, it was actually a chance for them to sit and catch up rather than, you know, being in front of the world press. They liked to spend time on their own, you know, talking to each other, really talking, not putting on a show. PS: So, I imagine that backstage on that day Freddie felt pretty much joyful and relaxed, right? PF: Yeah, on the day of the show, I never really saw Freddie nervous…

because, the thing is, it was too late by then [to be nervous]. You know, there was no point in being nervous anymore because the show was going to go on whether you were nervous or not. So, why be nervous? Just, you know, get on and do the show, enjoy yourself. PS: And do you remember, where did the idea of Freddie and Roger joining the Band Aid on stage in the final song, “Do They Know It’s Christmas”, came from? Or was it totally a spontaneous idea for them to join the others? PF: I think the idea at that point was that anybody who was around, who would stay on to the end – because don’t forget the show had started in the afternoon, so not everybody was going to be waiting – but then anybody who was left, who wanted to join, could go and join. There was no strict “You must do this, you have to do this, you have to be there”. It’s “If you want to, by all means come and do it.” PS: And we even have a picture of both of you, Freddie and you, on that day when Freddie wears a white shirt for “Is This The World That We Created”, and you stand right next to him and it’s a beautiful picture. PF: And Queen were the only band that actually kept their dressing room. Because all the other bands had to vacate their dressing room half an hour after they’d performed, so that the next band could come and use it. But because Brian and Freddie were performing “Is This The World That We Created” at the end, they got to keep their dressing room from the time they arrived. [laughs] PS: So they spent the rest of the day after the show in their dressing room? PF: Well, in or around their dressing room, yes. PS: They, like, had their Royal Queen place there. PF: That’s it. Anybody else had to go into the Hard Rock Café. There had to be a tent, you know, hospitality tent there. And most people ended up in there because they were not allowed into their dressing rooms, they didn’t have dressing rooms after that. So… that also helped Freddie relax. [laughs] PS: Like, his little bit of his own, right? PF: Yes. PS: All right. So, the second topic is about you, Peter. And you are credited as a “band party” member on The Works tour. Can you please clarify what a band party meaning is? Because I am assuming it’s like an entourage but it will be nice to hear the expanded definition from you. PF: Yeah, the band party, I think, was about ten or twelve people. It was the band members, their assistants – me, Chris Taylor was there, and Paul Prenter was there. If Jim Beach was on the tour at the time, he would have been part of the band party too. And some of the time Gerry Stickells was there. But often he would be ahead, making sure that everything was ready for when the band arrived. But that was it. There was about ten people. And there were baggage tags for each member of the band party. That’s why I know because I had Number 9, I think. And there were about twelve, I think, altogether, because at one point at the beginning I used to have to collect the band party baggage, so that’s why I always knew which were, even though I wouldn’t know whose bag was what. It would have one of these crew tags on it, so I just picked up and I knew that there were going to be twenty bags, so I just picked the twenty bags. But they were easy to identify because of these tags. PS: I see. And what is your own favourite memory about The Works tour and about this time, like, 1984, 1985? Maybe the Rio shows? PF: Yeah, I mean Rio was… amazing. The feeling from that crowd… you know, something like 350,000 people. Oh, you can’t beat that. And when you’re flying in a helicopter over that crowd, it was stunning. But the thing is, I know this sounds really, really stupid but [laughs]… one thing I will always, always remember from that tour was, remember, in the back of the stage you had these wheels that turned every now and then, not constantly but just every now and then. That was because there was… the guy looking after Roger’s drums and me who actually turned those wheels. And there was no set cue or anything that, “Oh, it has to start on this bar, on this song.” No, it

was when he wasn’t doing anything and I wasn’t doing anything, we’d say “Ok, let’s go and do it.” And we turned the wheels for a couple of minutes and then left them alone. He had then to do something for Roger and I would just sit there like I always did. And then you’d go back and you’d turn the wheels, like a hamster. We were like hamsters… So, that’s my memory of The Works tour. PS: And how technically did you operate those wheels? How was it possible? PF: With your hands. You just grabbed hold, you know, because it was like cogs on a wheel, and you just grabbed hold of them. Because we would be behind, I mean, I was always on John Deacon’s side, so I was hidden behind his bass setup. And you just pulled on the cogs because the whole wheel was on a metal axle and you just held there and you just pulled it down. PS: And the wheels actually were the real wheels, the big ones, right? PF: The very big ones in the back that moved, yeah. And they were made of, I think, polystyrene and plywood. So they weren’t very heavy. PS: So it was, like, actually you taking a part in the show, like, directing this? PF: Yes, I mean, you know, this is how things used to work in the old days before half of you were born. [laughs] You had to use your hands. I don’t think that a Queen tour as it is now is manual anymore. Everything is “push buttons” in it. PS: Yes, so it was indeed like the works, you had to work to make it work, right? PF: Yes, but nobody knew that’s how it works. They just saw these wheels turning every now and then. PS: It’s like a kind of magic indeed… PF: Yes, this was the whole thing with the Queen show – that people saw things happening but didn’t try and think “Oh, how do they do that?” If I see a big show now, I just think “How do they do that?” You’re not listening to the music anymore, you’re thinking “How do they get this to move? How do they get that?” But in the old days, you never did that, you just saw it move and it was part of the show. PS: You were just enjoying it, you didn’t have the time to analyse it. PF: Yeah. PS: I see. That’s a great memory, Peter. So, the third topic is about Freddie’s solo album, “Mr. Bad Guy” Freddie firstly wanted to name his solo album Made In Heaven and he even mentions that title in an interview with David Wigg. Why did he later decide to call it Mr Bad Guy? PF: I think he felt that Mr Bad Guy represented him more than Made In Heaven. And the lyrics to that song, everything. It sort of was very much about him. I think that’s why it changed. I actually love that song because it is real orchestra on it. And I was in the studio. I mean, it’s not a massive studio, so what they had to do, they had to record each section, so the strings section was there and recorded all their parts. And they went out. And woodwind recorded all their parts. Then brass recorded their parts. Then timpani came in and recorded. You know, they could not do everything together, so it was actually really quite complicated. But the end result, I think, is great. It reminds me very, very much of “The Carnival of the Animals”, the old classical piece. That was written by Camille Saint-Saëns. But that is what I’m immediately reminded of when I listen to “Mr Bad Guy”, you know. [starts to hum the song] You know, all the different pieces of the orchestra doing it, repeating it. Now, that for me is my favourite part. PS: I also enjoy it, I adore it. It’s truly a work of art from Freddie. PF: Yes, definitely, definitely. And I agree with him because it does represent him, multifaceted. You know, you never expect… He never gives you something that you expect. He always gives you something that will surprise you. PS: Yes. And why bad guy, why do you think Mr Bad Guy? Why bad? PF: Because… anytime in the press, there was never anything saying what a lovely man he is. So why not live up to his reputation? PS: Yes, it’s like “Yes, I’m everybody’s Mr Bad Guy,” yes. PF: Yes, this is it. This is what people want to believe, so this is what I will be. PS: Yes. And why do you think his first title was exactly not some

other track title but exactly “Made In Heaven”? Why was his first idea about exactly this song, to call the album this way? PF: I don’t know, I really cannot answer that one for you. I don’t know why he thought of that. Maybe he thought that would be the most popular track. A very popular track. PS: Yeah, it’s a hit song, totally remindful, yeah. And what was Freddie mostly like during the recording? What’s your favourite memory of him in this period? PF: That’s a lot more difficult because it was a difficult time. Munich. It took him far too long to create it. In the end, he was more interested in going out and spending time with Barbara Valentin than he was in creating work. I mean, the amount of time… he would turn up in the studio at two o’clock. Because he always turned up at two o’clock. It was pointless staying or coming at ten because he wouldn’t. And the thing is, it’s a singer’s voice, he’s not really ready to use [it] until later on in the afternoon. Once he’s warmed up properly and everything else. But the thing is, by four o’clock the phone would be ringing and Barbara was bored, so Freddie would run over and go out with her. So it was hard. And sometimes it felt like he was forcing himself to enjoy himself. Because he also felt bad, because he knew he should have been working, but he was letting his arm be twisted very, very, very easily. Yeah, I mean, okay, yes, he did enjoy himself when he was with Barbara, but he also had in the back of his mind that he was supposed to be working. PS: But the final result, I think, is totally great, he’s so much presented there. PF: It wasn’t the commercial success that people were expecting, but I think Freddie was happy with it in the end. PS: Yeah, it’s, like, his self-portrait songs. PF: Yeah, yeah, yeah. It got that music out of his system so that when he was back with Queen he was thinking more of the band stuff than, you know, things that the band would be happy with and just him happy with. Also, the thing is, Freddie did miss the rest of the band. He would never admit it but if you listen to some of the instrumentals on some of his solo tracks you could imagine Brian playing the guitar, you could imagine John playing the bass. You know, he missed having the band around him. PS: I see, I see. Even though it was his only first experience as his solo work, he already missed the other boys. PF: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Because the thing is, all his recording before Mr. Bad Guy had always been with other people around. You know, even when he was producing the Peter Straker album, he had friends around him doing things. This was him on his own and it was all on his shoulders. PS: Yeah, and he worked on this album perfectly, it’s absolutely a masterpiece, yeah. So, the fourth topic is about Freddie’s and Roger’s connection. There is a story that Freddie heard Roger’s song “Heaven For Everyone” and he liked it so much that he wanted to sing it, and in the end The Cross, Roger Taylor’s band, released a version with Freddie’s vocals on it. And do you remember, had Freddie ever listened to Roger’s solo albums at home? PF: Freddie didn’t really listen to very much of anybody’s music at home. The only thing I remember... well, okay, yes, I remember putting on videos of Prince. But, musically, we would put on, we would buy every one that came out. It was a series of CD’s and albums, of course, before the CD’s, Now That’s What I Call Music. And what it would be, would be the sort of top hits of two months or something. And they would all be on Now That’s What I Call Music 1, then Now That’s What I Call Music 2. I think it’s on to Now That’s What I Call Music 373 at the moment. I don’t know. That was the music that he would put on, it was the music of the time. Because, you know, for his own music, for Queen music, that was work for him. And what concerns Freddie listening to Roger’s albums - probably what it would’ve been he would’ve listened to it when he and Roger met up. But it wouldn’t necessarily be at home they would put on the album. They would meet up and Roger would say,

“Oh, you must hear, listen to this, you have to hear this. This is something I’ve been working on,” you know, that sort of thing. PS: I see. And, you mentioned Freddie enjoying Prince, and it connects me with the fifth topic and it’s about the musician of the same age as Prince and it’s, like, a connection of Freddie Mercury from Queen and the Queen of Pop who is known as Madonna. What was Freddie’s attitude to Madonna? Because it’s almost impossible to imagine that he never ever mentioned her or never talked about her. PF: He admired her as… a woman surviving and winning in basically a man’s world. Yeah, because she was a power. And for that he admired her. Some of the music he quite liked. But there’s also the other side of the coin. Freddie, for all he was, had one security with him whenever he went out or everything. And Freddie felt that Madonna was actually attracting attention to herself rather than protecting herself. When she would go running in Hyde Park with ten security, you know, he said, “If she went with one person, people wouldn’t even notice her, but because she’s got ten people around her, then the whole world is going to notice. And you are best safe not like that but if you have just one person.” So, I mean, for that side he didn’t understand her thinking, but for her musical acumen and for her performance he thought she was fine, she was good. PS: And what is your personal attitude to Madonna? Do you like her? PF: Again, some of the things she’s done I think are very, very good. I don’t know, the more recent stuff I’m not so keen on. But all the first ten years or whatever of her stuff, I loved it. Yeah. Because, again, she never copied, she always did her own thing, and she never repeated herself. And I love originality. PS: And what is your own favourite memory about Freddie and Montserrat, Barcelona story in general? PF: I suppose it would have to be the actual recording of “Barcelona” because that was the first track that was completed. Freddie had sent Montserrat a tape giving her a guide vocal. Mike Moran had written out the music for her and sent it. So when she came in, when she arrived, she was fully, fully prepared for what was going to happen. But I remember being with Freddie after she’d done the first tape of her vocals for Barcelona, and… there were almost, almost, I mean, there were tears down his face. He was saying, “I now have the greatest voice in the world singing my music.” And that will always stay with me, always. PS: I see, so it was, like, very deep for him. And what is your favourite memory of Montserrat as a person? PF: Ah, a lot of memories. I went to pick her up at the airport, took her to the hotel, I would go and meet her at the hotel, go with her to the studio, all of that sort of things. And I was only in the studio when Montserrat was there. And when she was actually putting her vocal tracks down, the track was basically finished. I saw her so many times after the recording as well. You know, I went to see different performances of her. And it was because of her that I was actually at the Palais Garnier in Paris. You know, the opera house in Paris. Because she actually did an AIDS Gala there. And she invited me to go. I think… her laughter. It’s just like Freddie’s. Because whenever people ask me what’s my first memory, what is the memory that first comes to my mind of Freddie, and it’s always him laughing. And it’s the same with her. Whether she’s just finished a performance or actually when she’s doing a recital or a concert. And during her encores, she is always giggling and laughing. Amazing giggle. Because she likes to bring the audience in during the encores. And she’s got this infectious giggle. She invited me to the first night ever of her performing Isolde in “Tristan and Isolde” in Barcelona. And talking with her afterwards, I said, “You must know how wonderful it is for me to be coming here, to be seeing it, to be listening to you.” And she says, “Of course, you’re part of the family.” So, that really has always stuck with me. PS: So, the next topic for

today is Freddie spending time just making any kind of normal activities. And the question is firstly about his swimming skills – could Freddie actually swim, and if yes, did he enjoy it? PF: I never saw him swim. Never. I don’t know if he could swim. I’ve often thought about that and I never saw it. He didn’t… thinking about it, we went on a motor boat when we were at Pike’s hotel in Ibiza one time. And he didn’t look the most comfortable. So, I really don’t know if he could actually swim. I never saw him in a swimming pool or anything like that. Even when there was a swimming pool around, I never saw him in it. PS: But speaking of other activities, for example, you mentioned your staying at Pike’s hotel, he liked to play tennis there, right? PF: Yes. And, of course, when he was younger he was very good at table tennis. So, yeah, he enjoyed tennis. When we were living together with Freddie in Los Angeles, in that house, there was a tennis court as well and he played there a few times. PS: I see. And what are your other memories of Los Angeles? PF: Los Angeles. Also I remember in Los Angeles it was in L’Ermitage hotel when Queen were designing the Hot Space album cover there. They were there, maybe, even rehearsing for a tour or something. That’s the hotel I was staying in at that time. It was just this concrete glass and… stainless steel… and chrome. It was a very, very modern hotel. I remember, there were all band members, I was there, Chris Taylor was there, Paul Prenter was there. And they were throwing ideas around. And that’s where Freddie came up with the colours. “That’s the hot space, the space is the colours, hot colours.” PS: Ah, so it has something to do with image, with colour as you see it… PF: Yeah, yeah, yeah. PS: The hot like the bright one, right? A definitive one. PF: Yeah, yeah. PS: And he drew, like, a draught of the cover, right? Because he is credited as designer. PF: They were talking about which colours and then who would be which colour and then what they would put on each colour. You know, when they started talking about, not necessarily a profile but just picking out the aspects that people recognize from each artist, like Brian and his hair, Freddie and his moustache, you know, that sort of thing. PS: And so, each member chose the colour for himself by his own, right? PF: Yeah, yeah, yeah. PS: And how do you think, why Freddie chose the red colour? PF: Because it’s the colour that sticks out the most, although red was not his favourite colour, his favourite colour was yellow. But red is the one that you first look at. If you look at every sale, you know, big sale signs and everything, it’s always red on white. Because red is the colour you notice more. Apparently, whether it’s true or not, I don’t know, but in the old days police stopped more red cars than any other car. PS: Oh, really? PF: Yeah. Just psychologically red is the colour that stands out. PS: And Freddie being so outstanding wanted to strike everybody. PF: Yeah. PS: I see. And you mentioned Freddie and you spending time at Pike’s hotel. And what is also your personal favourite memory of this time. PF: I suppose the swimming pool was actually something nice. To actually think that we were in the swimming pool where Wham had recorded “Club Tropicana”. I mean, yeah, Pike’s. It was a nice hotel. They treated you well. They treated you personally, you know, they took care of you. And so it was a nice place. You really felt well-treated. PS: And what was, like, the top of the top on Freddie’s 41st birthday? What are your memories? PF: The most ridiculous thing is when guests went off into a corner and started smoking, so they weren’t smoking at the table and set light to the decorations. There were all these paper decorations hanging down the walls and everything. And people were there smoking and not looking at what they were doing, and they set light to them with their cigarettes. And then they started throwing alcohol to try and, you know, because it was wet they thought they would put the flames out. I mean, some people are not

very, very bright. [laughs] PS: I see. And what was your favourite memory of his previous one birthday, in 1986, the hat party? PF: Now, the hat party was a one-off, there was no other party quite like that, in Garden Lodge. Not with two hundred and something guests. Because the thing is, the thing that I loved about the fact was that nothing was put away. None of his vases or, you know, anything was put on tables. All the antiques and everything. Everything was left there. Because, okay, there were two hundred people but he actually knew them. He knew he could trust them. PS: And what was it like for him when he arrived back from his magnificent journey to Japan? PF: The thing is, it extended because he was then back home opening up all the packages that had arrived and the crates that had arrived. Because everything was sent over as soon as he bought it. So, the big room, the small room. Everything, all the rooms were full. And these, he had twelve of them. So, it was like Christmas. You know, a six-week Christmas. Because he was away enjoying himself and then opening up and putting it all around the house. PS: So, he was actually in Japan for six weeks, right? PF: No, no, he was in Japan, I think, for about three weeks. But then when he came back, he had three weeks of opening up and putting them all out. PS: So, he had a chance to enjoy his presents one more time, like, actually having them all. PF: Precisely, precisely. PS: So, it was, like, double joy – first to buy it and then to enjoy it at home. PF: Yes, yeah, yeah. PS: And mostly he bought antiques, right? PF: Yeah, I mean, he did actually buy some modern porcelain and things, but almost everything was antique. Almost everything. PS: I see. It was indeed a magic year for him. The Magic tour and the magic holiday… PF: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Definitely. PS: I see, I see. So, as we are ending our first part by now, I’m saying to you a very, very big thank you, Peter. It’s amazing to hear all these stories about Freddie. PF: It’s been a pleasure, it’s a pleasure. SPECIAL THANKS TO VALUREX FOR CONTRIBUTION AND ASSISTENCE TO BE CONTINUED

#MR interview with Phoebe #queen #queen band #freddie mercury

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