#men are pretty in dresses my final message. goodbye | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hansolmates · 3 years

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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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altsvu · 3 years

Text

a little jealous, i suppose?

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!female!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: after being called in for a case in the middle of a romantic date, you and hotch have to talk to the lieutenant on the case, but they end up flirting with you at the same time. hotch gets a little jealous and proves it when you and him get back to the hotel room.

tw: sex talk, A SHIT TON OF SMUT, some fluff, swearing.

a/n: this is a long one lovelies! i had so much fun writing this! jealous hotch can be a bit naughty... but this is my first (completed) smut fic with hotch and i hope it doesn’t sound super weird or whatever bc i lowkey suck at smut

criminal minds masterlist! ✯ taglist! ✯ text messages!

✯✯✯✯

You and Hotch had been dating for almost a year and a half now. Upon dating, the two of you had decided that it was best to not say anything to the rest of the team. Although you wanted everything to be kept under wraps, everyone wanted the two of you to be together though, and they picked up on the many interactions that you exchanged with each other. It had been easy to keep the relationship a secret, or at least the idea of either you or Hotch being in a romantic relationship, until now when you came into the BAU floor wearing a revealing dress and a full face of makeup.

“Well, well, well,” Morgan whistled. “Looks like someone’s going on a date.”

“Shut up Morgan, you’re just jealous it’s not with you.” you laughed. “I am not jealous at all. You do look really good though.” he responded, in which you blew him a kiss.

“You look so beautiful! Your date is definitely gonna fall head over heels for you.” JJ squealed, coming up to give you a hug. You knew exactly who she was talking about. Hotch. She was the only person you were able to confide in about your relationship with him even though you had practically become best friends with everyone on the team. “Thank you JJ.” you smiled.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Reid asked.

“Or girl?” Penelope said.

You looked for some of your items from your desk, trying to avoid the team’s burning questions. “All I can say is that he’s... definitely older.”

“Well, you know what they say, the older the wiser.” Emily suggested.

“Yes, this man is very wise.” you replied, putting your badge and gun in your purse. Little did everyone know that they were talking highly of Hotch.

Rossi came out of his office. “Well, you’re not going on a date with me.”

“Unfortunately-“ you frowned, then paused mid sentence when your phone rang. You pulled it out and broke away from the group to make sure they couldn’t see the name.

“Sweetheart, you know I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look.” Hotch mused. You could tell he had a smile on his face. “Well babe, lucky for you, I’m about to leave. See you in 5 okay?” You replied.

“Of course.”

You hung up and dropped your phone in your bag, grabbing your coat. “Alright everyone, I’m off. Don’t miss me too much, I’m a big girl, I’ll be okay.”

“Walk you to the elevator?” JJ asked. You nodded sincerely. You then said your goodbyes to everyone and walked out with JJ.

“He’s lucky to be with a woman like you.”

“Yeah, I like to think that. I’m just glad he doesn’t treat me like a child, ya know. I may be the youngest here, but when we’re alone, everything’s just different.”

JJ lifted an eyebrow. “Ohhhh, I see.”

You playfully smacked her on the shoulder as the elevator door opened. “Girl stop. It’s more than that.” You walked into the elevator, blowing a kiss at JJ.

“Have fun!”

✯✯✯✯

“You look absolutely amazing, did I tell you that already?” Hotch complimented as you got out of the car.

“Yes you have, about 5 times already, but I appreciate the compliments. You look quite handsome yourself, Aaron.”

“Thank you, my love.” he said, kissing you on the lips.

The two of you went inside the restaurant and followed the waiter to the reserved table, which had seating next to each other instead of across and the environment was pretty chill since there weren’t a lot of people inside, so it felt even more romantic. It gave you more freedom to perform many forms of PDA, which was something that Hotch wanted to experiment more with.

“So... everyone on the BAU floor is questioning who I’m dating,” you started. Hotch looked up at you mid bite. “Really? What’d you say?”

“I’m dating an older man who’s very wise.”

Hotch sneaked an arm around your waist. “I’m glad that you think I’m wise.”

“I can think of a lot more.” you whispered. You then crept your hand up to the nape of Hotch’s neck and pulled him closer to you, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

“Mmm, I know what I’m gonna do to you when we get home.” Hotch murmured into your ear after kissing you back. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re gonna be shaking when you walk into the BAU tomorrow.” His fingers tickled your bare skin, and you hoped you weren’t getting an orgasm from his touch.

“Oh what a naughty, wise man you are.” you mused, taking the opportunity to kiss and nibble on the soft skin that was Hotch’s neck. You sucked on it hard, leaving a dark red mark.

You went back to enjoying your meal and chatting when you were interrupted by a phone call.

“It’s Garcia.” Hotch whispered. He then proceeded to answer the phone. When he got off the phone with her, he looked disappointed. “What is it?” you asked.

“We’re being called in.”

“Fuck.” you muttered under your breath, hearing your phone ring too.

Hotch took your face in his hands. “It’s okay. We can finish date night another night.”

✯✯✯✯

You had texted JJ that you would be meeting them on the plane to avoid suspicions from the rest of the team and you would be briefed when you arrived. JJ had grabbed your go bag for you as well.

“Y/N, how was your date?” Emily asked.

It was tempting to smile and look at Hotch but you were able not to. “Despite it being cut short, it was amazing. We had... plans after dinner.”

“Oooo, risqué.” Morgan cocked his head to the side. You pinched his cheek and collapsed in one of the chairs, wanting to sleep. In a way, you were a bit upset that you and Hotch had to be called away from your date, you seriously wanted him to be all over you, kissing you, sucking on your skin, massaging your forbidden spots.

“Very. Where are we headed?”

The rest of the team then briefed you on the case and when you landed, you’d have to go with Hotch to talk with the lieutenant that was the lead on the case and set up at the field office.

While you were looking through your copy of the case file, you got a text from Hotch.

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: That hickey on my neck won’t be going away for a while, Rossi’s already asking about it

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: he thinks i had “a little rendezvous” before being called in.

You stifled a laugh.

You: well... you did. With me of course

You: Keep him wondering, I’ll give you more in our hotel room 😘 and i’m also holding you to that promise

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: the things i want to do to you... i wouldn’t even be able to count

You bit your finger and looked out the window, wanting the day to go by fast. Hotch was sitting across from you, so he looked up at you for a slight second with a grin on his face, which caught your attention quickly. He gave you a wink and looked back down. Moments later, the jet was arriving at the team’s destination and you were eager to just change out of your date night clothes.

“Do we have time for me to stop by the hotel we’re staying in?” you whispered to JJ while getting off the plane.

“My beloved friend, we’re on a time crunch.” JJ started. “But, I’ll let you come with me to get the keys for our rooms.”

You sighed in relief and smiled a thank you.

✯✯✯✯

“I kinda wished you didn’t have to change out of that dress.” Hotch admitted. You side eyed him, knowing that he was joking. That was until you turned to look at him and he was staring at you, examining you almost. “Me too,” you smiled, turning to look at him. “But obviously that would be super inappropriate.”

“Well of course it would be.” Hotch growled, pulling you closer to him.

“There’s cameras,” you hissed.

“Good.” One of his hands grabbed your ass and you let out a gasp. Clearly Hotch did not care whatsoever about the cameras, all he cared about was you, and how amazing you looked in front of him. That, and closing this current case as soon as possible. He took your face in his hands and kissed your lips ever so passionately, stopping just in time for the elevator door to open. As you were approaching the lieutenant, you straightened your shirt in hopes that he wouldn’t think that anything suspicious was going on.

“Lieutenant Baker, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is SSA Y/N .” Hotch said, shaking hands with Baker. When he got to you, a smile creeped up on his face and he lingered a bit after shaking your hand. A bit odd, you thought. “Thank you for coming,” he finally replied. “These suspicious murders have been going on for too long and I’d like to put an end to them as much as you do.”

“And that’s why we’re here.” Hotch agreed. “Is there a place for us to settle?” He led you and Hotch to a conference room with an evidence board, and as you were walking, you felt a familiar hand on your back, creeping to your waist. Goddammit Hotch. You glared at him to stop before he got caught and he only looked back at you with a smile on his face.

The rest of the time in the field office wasn’t bad, but you had a very huge feeling that the lieutenant was trying to make some moves on you.

It’s not like you weren’t used to this, men just found you super attractive. But you only found one man that was attractive.

Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey.” you turned around to find the lieutenant standing next to you. “Is there anything that I can help you with?”

“Nah, just putting these pictures and visuals up. Hotch and I are gonna review the case files until the family comes in to talk to us.”

“Ok, that sounds good.”

You noticed that Baker was still standing in your vicinity. “Is there something that you need from me, Lieutenant?”

“No, not at all. Let me know if you need anything from me, I’ll be trying to round up some potential witnesses.” Baker said, squeezing and rubbing your forearm for a moment and walking away to his office. He had a side grin on his face.

You, on the other hand, stood in your spot truly dumbfounded. Your mouth slightly gaped, you turned and watched Baker walk away. Suddenly your eyes made their way to Hotch, who was looking at you across the room, a grin also on his face.

“What was that about? He ask you if you were dating anyone?”

You rolled your eyes and finished putting up the map for Reid to use later. “Please, no.” Hotch was then standing by your side, leaning against the wall beside the evidence board.

“That wasn’t just any touch there.”

“Yeah well, it didn’t mean anything to me. Did you forget that I love you or something?”

Hotch pulled you into a kiss. “Of course not.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Then what’s the issue? A little jealous, I suppose?” You put emphasis on jealous.

“Agents? The victim’s mother is here.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Hotch replied. He turned back to you. “We’ll talk later.”

✯✯✯✯

It was nearing the end of the day, and everyone was tired. It was only the team’s first day in a small Nevada town, but a lot was accomplished.

Riding in the car with Derek, Emily, and JJ back to the hotel room, you let the breeze flow through your body. Nervousness washed over you as you thought about the morning upon arriving at the field office.

Hotch always had underlying meanings to even the simplest things he would say, which is why you couldn’t stop wondering if he was the slightest bit upset at the lieutenant for advancing on you, the person he loved with all his heart.

“Hey.” JJ poked at your arm. “What’s going on? Trouble in paradise?”

You smiled a bit. “No, uh, I guess there was a bit of tension since the lieutenant was flirting with me.”

“He was actually good looking, I think he’d be a great match for you.” Emily suggested, turning around.

“Y/N does attract almost every male species.” Derek commented.

“Guys, stop, I’m just... not interested in him.” You said simply, turning back to the window. The only thing running to your head was what Hotch had planned for tonight.

When you got to the hotel room, you found things the way they were, only Hotch’s go bag next to yours. You pulled out your robe and shower essentials from your go bag - you hated using hotel soap - and started to strip. When Hotch came out of the bathroom, you were only in your underwear, slipping on your robe, and he was only in a towel.

“You didn’t say when you came in.” Hotch whispered, planting a small kiss on your head.

“I know, I didn’t wanna bother you. I’m gonna shower quickly okay?” He nodded and you then went in the bathroom. When you were done, Hotch was in bed wearing a white shirt and grey boxer shorts. God, he looked so hot.

“What conversation did you want to have earlier?” You asked, wrapping your robe around a bit tighter.

Hotch gestured to you to lay next to him. “You know how I get when it comes to people flirting with you.”

“Yeah, you go feral. Internally, of course.” You paused. “Wait. Is Aaron Hotchner... mad?”

His hand snuck inside your robe, trailing up to your chest, cupping your right breast, sending chilling shockwaves to the rest of your body.

“Let’s just say I wanna show you that you belong to me.”

Oh, Hotch was jealous alright.

You turned to face him and that’s when he worked his magic. One side of your robe slipped off, and next thing you knew, he was teasing your clit, making you wet. Your shallow breaths and whimpers filled the emptiness of the room. He continued teasing you for a bit, then you watched as he pulled out his cock, stroking it a bit while staring at you dead in your eyes. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to make sure you knew he was the one in control, and that he would do anything to get off on your pleasure.

He made extra sure of it when he started cockwarming you.

Oh fuck you Aaron, you said in your head as small whimpers escaped your mouth.

“Yeah, you like when I do that to you?” Hotch- well Aaron, asked roughly. “You like feeling my cock inside you, don’t you?”

He was enjoying the sight of you, close to him, almost orgasming on the spot. But he wasn’t gonna let you get off that easily.

“What’s wrong, my sweet girl? Hmm?”

“I- I need you, Aaron,” was all you could croak out.

Aaron shifted on top of you and you curled your legs around him.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to speak up for me to give you what you want.” Aaron teased, taking of his shirt.

“I need you Aaron,” you repeated a bit louder.

Aaron smiled and thrusted hard and fast into you, in which he took no time. “Good girl.” He let out a fierce groan when he did so.

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You do,” you moaned. “You make me feel good Aaron.”

He kissed you fiercely in response with one of his hands gripping your neck and the other holding on to your leg. “God, you look so sexy under me, my sweet, sweet girl. You take me so well.”

He knew you wanted to come, your flushed face gave it away. But when you asked, ever so politely, he responded with a firm no.

“You don’t get to come until I do.”

“But Aaron, plea-“

“No.”

As he was going faster, you felt yourself nearing an orgasm, and all you wanted to do was melt under him.

He pulled out just after he reached his high and smashed his lips against your clit, stimulating you even more. When he finally let you come, it came on strong and heavy, and a loud, broken “Aaron” escaped your lips. You did not care whatsoever if two of the other team members in the next room heard you. Aaron on the other hand was enjoying every moment of it. “Oh, my sweet girl, you taste amazing.” he mused.

When he was done he collapsed next to you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just... that was super hot.” you breathed, moving closer to him.

“It was. I think now you know who you belong to.” Aaron whispered, caressing your cheek.

“Much more than I did before.”

Aaron offered to clean you up, and after, the two of you slept soundly for the rest of the night.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @averyhotchner @storiesofsvu @ssaic-jareau @blackbeautifulqueen @dr-omalley @morcias @mstrinnyb

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charlie-rulerofhell · 3 years

Text

An interview with Måneskin: “It's not about out bodies, it's about our music”

Heyo, I'm back with another translation. This time the article is from the German Rolling Stone website who met with Måneskin after their TikTok performance at the Schwuz, Berlin, and posted the interview yesterday. Again there were some interesting questions asked (and the pictures they added to the article are quite nice, though severely lacking some Ethan content, but check it out!).

Again, I hope that no one has already gone through the effort and translated it or is currently working on a translation. Also this is an official invitation, if you stumble across any articles or video interviews in German that you would like to have translated just message me and I'll get to it! (or if you just wanna chat about Måneskin, my inbox is always open :))

Have a great day everyone!

Full article under the cut.

-----------------------------

An interview with Måneskin: “It's not about out bodies, it's about our music”

Jose-Luis Amsler

July 6, 2021

Måneskin are just what this generation has been missing. Passionate, corny, and full-on honest. In an interview with Rolling Stones, the ESC winners explain to us why they would never work in a normal job and why the hype for their appearance is sometimes going too far.

Damiano, Victoria, Thomas and Ethan are entering the nearly deserted dance hall, before they wait on stage in a red-blue spotlight. They are wearing glittering fish net tops, black tape across their nipples, leather pants, heels and make up. The camera men who are filming in portrait format (9:16) suitable for TikTok are whirling up the haze of the fog machine.

Måneskin are [in] Berlin to give a TikTok concert. A TikTok livestream of this scale has not been done often – tension is in the air. The four Italians don't know at this point that due to the stream the few people present are not allowed to clap or cheer. In complete silence and with slight uncertainty the four are crossing Neukölln's club Schwuz. A few puzzled glances are exchanged. Finally, Måneskin are striking the first chord.

Then the rich sound of Ethan's bass drum is tearing through the silence. It's almost as if someone has flicked a switch somewhere. There it is, the rock star presence that is hovering over everything they do, with an ounce of arrogance (in the best sense of the word). Singer Damiano is dancing lasciviously on his heels, and during an especially ecstatic solo guitarist Thomas is throwing himself down on the floor in a way it can only be done by a passionate 20-year-old musician who had never had to worry about the looming doom of an artificial knee joint [for 'passionate' the interview is using the term 'besessen' which means 'possessed', and although I think it's rather supposed to describe the way Thomas is 'possessed / obsessed' with the music, thus passionate for the music, you never know if they didn't mean to say that the way he dances looks 'possessed' … I mean, they might be on to something here ;)]. Around half an hour and about 120 decibel later, Damiano says their goodbyes with an almost shy-sounding “Okay, bye.” After the performance, we do our interview in the Schwuz.

Rolling Stone: It was a little bit weird, right, when you went on stage today?

Damiano: Yeah, that was really strange (laughs). They only told us after the performance that the audience was instructed to stay silent for the stream.

Vic: But at least they weren't silent because we were shit (all laughing). We are slowly getting used to playing without a live audience. I mean we are doing this now for more than a year.

RS: What do you think about these new kinds of concerts such as the TikTok livestream today?

Damiano: Well, at the moment it is the only option to perform anyway, so it's alright. But of course you cannot compare this to a proper concert.

Thomas: But it's pretty cool that so many people can experience our concert live.

Vic: Also we're gonna start touring again soon. Right now we are arranging some festival and gigs. In December we will be touring Italy and afterwards we are planning to go on tour through Europe. But we don't have anything fixed yet, there is just a lot going on at the moment.

“A lot going on”. Quite an understatement considering the recent journey Måneskin has made through the past weeks after their ESC win. Their singles “Beggin'” and “I Wanna Be Your Slave” went through the roof (also thanks to Social Media) and are currently dominating the international charts – lately they were also number one in Germany. There is barely a radio station that isn't playing the band on heavy rotation [would love to know what stations they listen to, have never heard Måneskin played in German radio tbh :( ], and everyone opening Instagram or TikTok these days is flooded by Måneskin content. Every second a new fanpage with the name of 'maneskin_obsession' or 'damianos_slut' is springing up like a (virtual) mushroom. It sounds like a cliche, but Damiano, Vic, Thomas and Ethan became international stars over night.

“Of course it's nice to get compliments. But sometimes they definitely cross a line.” – Damiano David

RS: How has your life as a band changed since your win at the ESC in Rotterdam?

Vic: I think we don't even notice a lot of what's happening. Right after the ESC we went to a studio in the countryside where we made music the whole day long. So at first we didn't realise that so many things were happening all around us – and that we had so many new fans. We're just now beginning to learn what's going on. We were at Sony yesterday, there were so many fans waiting for us. That was crazy.

RS: A large part of the attention you are getting now is about your outer appearance, your style, your attractiveness. Is that getting a little too much sometimes?

Damiano: Of course it's nice to get compliments (laughs). But sometimes they definitely cross a line. Especially when we just talk about our music or about a social or political topic that we care about. In those moments it's just completely inappropriate to reduce us to our appearance. Sure – when I'm posting a half-naked picture of myself on Instagram I know that I will get these kind of comments. And then it's totally fine, I mean in the end I'm posting the picture to show myself. But sometimes it's not the right place for it.

RS: And also you should be allowed to wear what you want without being sexualised, right?

Vic: Yes, absolutely. We are wearing these outfits because we feel good in them, not to put the focus on our bodies. And in general it shouldn't always only be about how you dress. We are musicians – so first and foremost it should be about our music. But I think it will still be a long way until we will reach that point.

“That the boys are wearing make up does not tell you what gender they are attracted to. Those things should never be equated with each other.” – Victoria De Angelis

RS: But still you are sending a message with your style against stereotypical gender roles. I guess it's also not only coincidence that we are in the Schwuz today, which is normally a party location and safe space for the LGBTQ community.

Vic: Yes, that is all part of the positive message that we try to send. We want to give our audience the feeling that they are free. Free to wear whatever they want to wear, be how they want to be and love whom they want to love. It's unbelievable that there is still so much intolerance in our times. That has always been really important to us so we try to talk about these topics. We also believe that the narrow-mindedness of society is an educational problem. When you grow up with people all around you telling you how you should be, you will never feel completely free. The more people are talking about it, the sooner things will change.

RS: Some artists who are advocating for these topics are accused of 'queerbaiting', that they are only pretending to be a certain way to gain more support from the queer community. Have you also been faced with those allegations?

Vic: Yes, a few times. But of course we never pretended to be anything. Some people accuse of us queerbaiting because we look and act the way we do. But that's flawed thinking. We don't believe that clothes are connected to a person's sexuality. That the boys are wearing make up does not tell you what gender they are attracted to. Those two things should never be equated with each other.

RS: This courage for free self expression that you are conveying is mainly lived by our (young) generation through Instagram and the like. What is your relationship to social media?

Damiano: For me it was almost scary at first. The more we grew, the more people were trying to twist all of my words. But over time you start to understand that with more fame you also get more criticism. The happier you look the more hate you will get. It's not only like that for celebrities. If you are brave enough to show the things that make you happy there will always be people that support you, but they are also those that envy you. Of course, this should never lead anyone to not express themselves openly but that's easier said than done.

Vic: We are also trying not to spend too much time on social media. In the end we just try to be honest with our fans and to avoid negativity.

[caption under the picture of Damiano: 'Is already being compared to icons such as David Bowie']

It's actually surprising how little power a win at the ESC holds in most cases. Almost 200 million people are watching this shining spectacle every year – and still, a few months afterwards it is hard to remember who those people were that got covered in confetti during the award ceremony. It's the well-known curse of a casting show that rests on the winning bands. When just next year a new sensation will come to marvel at, how much impact does a win have then? There are exceptions of course, like Lena who is until this day, 10 years after her win in Oslo, a part of the more famous music scene of German pop music. With their charisma, their unusual sound at least for our modern standards, and their contemporary message Måneskin could become such an exception, too.

It's likely also helpful that the band already had a standing in the Italian music scene prior to their ESC participation. Their first album 'Il ballo della vita' already achieved platinum in 2018, three years prior to Sanremo and the ESC. And then there is also the long way that led the four schoolmates to this point that helped them gain the necessary persistence. Because contrary to what some people might want to believe Måneskin are not a phenomenon that has just been deliberately bred to be this way by the entertainment industry for Eurovision.

“I have worked [in a 'normal' job] for a whole month in my entire life – it didn't really end well.” – Damiano David

RS: You were all raised in Rome, the capital of the catholic church. What was it like to start as a young progressive band in such a conservative environment?

Damiano: In the beginning, when we started as buskers, no one gave a damn about us anyways (all laughing). But of course … Once we got a bit bigger there were a few people who had a problem with us. For example when we went to Sanremo, there were quite many people who thought that the way we looked and acted we shouldn't be allowed to represent Italy. They didn't even want to listen to our music first.

Vic: Especially when it comes to appearance and sexuality, Italy is a little more backward than other countries. The church probably also has an influence there. They are often quite conservative of course, so many people grew up with such a [conservative] mindset.

RS: You once said that the song 'In Nome Del Padre' is an answer to exactly those people. What does the song mean to you?

Damiano: Back in the beginning [of our career] we had to deal with a lot of problems. They didn't want to let us play in clubs because we would take too much space as a band or because they didn't like our (fashion) style or because they didn't want to pay us. Italy isn't a good place for bands. Our musical style was also criticised a lot. Many people were telling us: Don't do that [rock music], you won't get popular with that in Italy, you will never achieve anything with it. Of course those comments were hurtful but they were also a good reason for us to continue with what we did. And we turned our sadness into anger. With that song we wanted to tell those people from back then: Fuck off and look at us, we did it!

RS: Did you ever consider working in a nine-to-five job and live a 'normal' life?

Damiano: Nah, not really. For one month in my life I worked [in a 'normal' job] – it didn't end well (all laughing).

Vic: We all made music since we were kids. It's a huge part of us, that we couldn't just ignore. And the most important thing is that you do something that makes you happy. At least that's what we believe. So we started from a young age to put all our time and energy into music.

Thomas: Yeah, exactly. Ever since we were in school together we always made music. That has always been our main focus and it is until today. We play and play and play because it is the only thing that …

Ethan: … we live for.

Damiano: Music has also something very therapeutic for us. Even when we are in a bad mood or fight with each other – yeah, that happens, too – then all of that is gone the moment we enter the stage. Maybe that's the beautiful thing about music – that it allows you to forget everything else. You're just standing on stage, having fun with your friends.

From most bands you wouldn't buy such a corny love letter to music. Mostly it just sounds like an empty phrase, a well-practiced quotable line. But when there is something that defines Måneskin and that becomes more and more evident during our conversation it's their uncompromising honesty. The four of them are definitely not lacking a sense of humour but they take their music very seriously. Which should not be taken for granted in a generation that has mainly produced sarcastic cloud rappers and has made cynical twitter comedy a national sport. And maybe Måneskin are exactly what this generation was lacking all along.

Still, the four musicians, all in the age of 20 to 22, are also prone to the constant need for self-expression, that has become an intrinsic part of today's life. This does not only reflect in the outfits of the band (always 'on fleek') and their Instagram profiles, but also in their lyrics. Their latest record 'Teatra D'Ira – Vol. 1' shows a clear theme: The album is an ode to individuality, accentuated by fast and hard sounds.

Sometimes this message fitting for a Disney movie [really? guess I have been watching the wrong Disney movies my whole life …] is wrapped in a contrasting loud and forceful packaging, but never so much that it becomes inauthentic or self-caricaturing [note: I'm honestly not entirely sure what they wanted to say with this sentence since it uses a lot of rhetorical devices that could be interpreted in different ways, but I'd say this sounds the most plausible]. And in the end, the thing that makes Måneskin so interesting is their unification of the spirit of this time – between TikTok hedonism and an omnipresent political statement – with the music of past generations.

“When you are twenty, you start to think about what the future will hold.” – Damiano David

RS: Your musical style is often described as classical 70s rock, but in fact there are many different influences in your music. Sometimes you groove almost into funk, sometimes it's more rapping than singing. How did this mixture come to be?

Thomas: It's just that we all have our own individual influences and then we meet somewhere in the middle. And we always try to stay open for experiments.

Ethan: Yes, we are very experimental in our song writing process.

Vic: We also don't want to limit ourselves to what is regarded as typical rock music. If rap fits better at some point then we just add that in. It just happens naturally without us thinking too much about it.

RS: So why was it still rock music in the end?

Vic: Because it's the style that we feel most represented by. But actually we just play the music that we enjoy playing. That's really important to us so that we can show something real on stage. We don't want to pretend to be something that we aren't or mock those people that really enjoy our music. You should always be proud of what you're doing and never fake anything just to sell more records.

RS: Is there something like an Italian rock music scene?

Vic: There are quite a lot of bands – but the most of them are much older than us or they are more going in the direction Indie rock. There isn't really a young rock scene, which we think is a pity. But ever since we got more famous people are telling us that they started listening to rock music because of us or that they bought their first guitar and such. That's incredibly nice!

RS: So you're saying that you also want to show this style of music to a younger generation. And you capture this contrast quite well in the song 'Vent'anni', which is a typical rock ballad but lyrically portrays the thoughts of today's youth. Where did the motivation come from to write that song?

Damiano: With the song I wanted to show that I'm just a normal guy, a really typical 20-year-old. I experience the same things that other people in my age are experiencing, I'm just doing another job than them. Also I wanted to describe this age as a whole because I think it's a really special age. At 20 you start to think about what the future will hold. I think it's one of the most important stages of your life. Since we (the four of us) are all in the same age, I then started to mix our experiences together. In the end the song shows what it means to us to be 20. There is a lot of good things – you are quite carefree and are looking at life enthusiastically. But on the other hand you're too young to do certain things and too old to do others. Some people are treating you like a full-grown adult, but …

Vic: … not entirely.

Damiano: Exactly. It can get pretty frustrating at times. We wanted to show our audience: Hey, we're also just 20 years old, and we're going through the same things as you. We understand you.

RS: Except that you are the ones who are becoming a world-wide phenomenon right now. How do you want to maintain this honesty?

Damiano: I think that we could just reach this point because we have always been authentic – for better or for worse. Also we are just trying to have fun with what we're doing together. That's something special that we don't want to lose. In the end we're just four friends who started to live their dream. It's actually pretty simple. Of course – we go on stage, we get a lot of attention, we give interviews – but when we come back home we're just four friends.

#måneskin #maneskin #måneskin interview #my stuff #esc #again if you ever want anything to be translated just hit me up i'm free most of the time #ig my blog is slowly turning into a måneskin fanpage for translations and shitposting #but tbh i'm not complaining #have a great day everyone and happy waiting for sooooon

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Memories, Pt. II

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks

Word Count: 1982

a/n: Ahh, part 2! I hope you like it :)

I know it's only been a day since part I, but this really felt like it took forever to write. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out though. Again, sorry if it's confusing! Hopefully you understand the concept I'm going for.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

4 Years Ago

"Y/N!" Steve called out to you from down the hall, a man with dark hair walking beside him. "I'm glad I caught you. Buck came back from a mission last night, and he's the only one left for you to meet."

You eyes lit up at the mention of Bucky. You'd always admired him for the steps he took to recover from his time at Hydra.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You smiled, trying not to sound too eager. "It's an honor to meet you Sergeant Barnes."

"An honor?" His eyes sparkled with disbelief. "And please, just Bucky."

You nodded at his request before explaining. "An honor, truly. Sorry to be blunt, but you've been through hell and are still out there helping people every chance you get. You're a hero." You whispered that last line conspiratorially, knowing he would get flustered from your brief conversations with Sam Wilson.

"Did Wilson put you up to this?" He questioned, a tell tale flush blooming on his cheeks.

"Just the hero bit." You chuckled when he rolled his eyes. "Everything else came from me." You waited a beat before continuing. "It's true though. You are a hero." You winked before saying goodbye and continuing with your night.

Steve stared at his best friend as he watched you walk away, knowing exactly what that small smile meant. "You like her!" He accused, although lightheartedly.

"Shut up, punk. I just met her." Bucky tried to stop smiling, but your lingering first impression left him feeling giddy.

"Doesn't matter. It's true." Steve easily dodged Bucky's fist. "You don't have to admit it, but I know."

The two men continued down the hall, Steve teasing Bucky when he was still smiling 10 minutes later.

Present

You must've fallen asleep eventually, because next thing you know you are waking up to a room full of people. It takes a minute for you to recognize all of them, but you know the names and reputations well enough to figure it out.

Bucky has his head resting on the edge of your bed, your hand still encased in his. You involuntarily squeeze his hand, as if your muscles have a mind of their own, to gain his attention.

It's comical how quickly his head flies up, gaining the attention of the multitude of superheros in the room.

"You're awake!" Wanda shrieks, beyond relieved to see you home.

"What happened?" Sam adds on, concerned for what you went through.

"Are you okay?" Nat questions as well.

Your eyes flicker between them, unsure how to respond to any of them. Luckily for you, Bucky clears his throat to capture your attention.

"How are you feeling?" Your body instantly relaxes at the softness of his voice, as if remembering things you don't.

It's weird, lying in a room full of people who believe something you know not to be true.

"I, um, physically I feel fine." His eyes on you pull the truth out. "I, um, I'm still kind of confused about what's going on though."

He presses a kiss to your palm, again easing the tension from your body.

"You don't remember anything?" Nat's first to speak up, her typical skepticism peaking through.

"Not about the mission. I mean, I was kept in that room the entire time I was there." Three years flashes in your mind. Why do they think it was only three months? None of this makes sense. "I know all of you though." You're careful not to lie, knowing she would likely spot it.

Their faces relax as they take in your statement, causing a jolt of anxiety and stress to run through you.

Hydra may have convinced you that 38 people died at your hands, but your own personal morals haven't changed. You've accepted "the incident" as they put it was your fault, but that doesn't mean you're a cold blooded killer. They didn't have enough time to change you that much.

Steve, although upset with the lack of information, understands the position you're in. It's easy to see he's still worried about what happened to you while you were "captured".

"Why don't you go up to your room and decompress. The memories could still come back to you."

You can't help but smile at the kindness being shown to you. You give him another small smile while nodding, trying to figure out a way to get someone to take you to "your room" because you have no idea where it is.

"C'mon, I'll help you." Bucky wraps an arm around your waist as you stand, and although it's the first time you've experienced it, it feels completely natural to be in his embrace.

Everyone calls out statements of encouragement and well wishes as the two of you walk out of the med bay. You do your best to not marvel at everything you pass, simply trying to remember the layout of the building.

A few turns later, you've arrived at an elevator where Bucky presses the button for your floor. When the doors open again, he guides you through a hallway to what you presume is your room.

"Thank you, for helping me." You turn to him before stepping into your room.

"I would do anything for you." He whispers back, hand still rubbing your hip. When he leans in to kiss you, you panic.

"Um, I'm going to take a shower. Maybe feeling clean will help with all of this." You vaguely gesture to the air, unsure how to put everything into words.

"Oh, uh, sure. We can talk later?" He hides his confusion at your behavior, understanding how weird it can be to readjust.

You nod before closing the door, leaving him slightly stunned in the hallway. A few steps into your room, and a friendly Irish voice is calling out to you.

"Welcome home, Ms. L/N. Would you like to hear your messages?"

Your heart rate spikes as you rapidly look around the room, trying to spot the intruder.

"Who, who said that?" You continue spinning, trying to spot the voice.

"My name is Friday. I am an AI built into the compound." Your breathing settles as you begin to comprehend the information. Nobody is in your room. You're alone.

"Oh. Okay." You continue taking deep breaths, trying to prevent the panic from settling in now that you're alone.

"Would you like to hear your messages?" The AI asks, again catching you off guard.

"What messages?" You can't deny that you're intrigued by the concept of someone leaving you messages here. "What the hell happened? What is going on?" You mutter to yourself.

"You left for a mission 3 months ago. Communication was cut off 2 days after your departure. All resources were diverted to finding your location and bringing you home." Friday announced, as if it was common knowledge. You would suppose it should be if it was true.

"3 months ago? I was there for 3 years. I've never been here before! Why do they all think I'm an Avenger? None of this makes any sense." Your head is spinning, and all you want is to wash the last 3 years of dirt and grime from your skin.

As you step into the shower, Friday continues to answer your questions, ultimately giving you the version of events that the Avengers all seem to believe.

You joined the team four years ago. Tony and Steve brought you back to the compound after you fought alongside them. Your mutation gives you enhanced senses, allowing you to predict the enemies moves. Despite your lack of true training, the two men were impressed by your skills and dedication.

After getting dressed, you finally bit the bullet and asked to hear the messages. Instantly, Bucky's shaky voice filled your ears.

"Y/N, we lost contact with you yesterday. I just, I needed to feel like I was talking to you." A shaky breath could be heard before he continued. "You promised me you'd come back. I, I can't lose you, doll. Stay strong. We're going to find you."

The next message began immediately. "It's been a week now without you. Steve says we're getting closer, but I know he's just trying to calm me down. I will find you, Y/N. That's my promise."

Tears began pouring down your face as you listened to his voice, sounding battered and broken due to your absence.

"Steve keeps telling me to rest. He says I won't be any help if I'm burnt out. But, I- I can't sleep knowing you're there. Not knowing what they're doing to you. I can't sleep because all I see is you, and it hurts. Doll, it hurts so much. I'm going to find you. I will because I can't lose you. Not like this. Not to them."

The messages continues playing, doing nothing but encouraging your tears.

"Two months. I'm so sorry, doll. It's been two months and we're not any closer. I hope you know we're trying. I'm trying. I won't rest until I have you back in my arms. I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat at those three words, he loves you? How? How can he love you if you didn't even meet until yesterday?

"We figured it out. We've got a location. I'm coming baby. I'm coming."

The last message ended with a beep, but you barely heard it. Your breathing was erratic, your heart rate skyrocketing as the anxiety took over your body.

He couldn't possibly love you. Not when he doesn't know the things you did. The people you killed.

"Enacting protocol 7, paging Mr. Barnes." The AI's voice went unheard by you, muffled by your choked sobs.

Not 30 seconds later, Bucky was rushing into your room.

"Y/N!" He ran to you, pulling you into his arms in a tight embrace. He whispered soothing words into your hair, slightly rocking you back and forth.

Somehow, he knew exactly how to calm you down. His warm breath on your neck, strong arms around your body, and the soothing rocking motion all worked wonders for you.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're home now. I've got you. You're safe."

His words brought fresh tears to your eyes, although your breathing calmed and anxiety lessened after a while.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He whispered a few minutes after your body stopped shaking.

"I, I'm just so scared." You didn't know what to say. You wanted to come clean. To explain who you really were, but the fantasy described to you by the AI sounded like a much better life.

A life you wanted to believe in, but felt like you didn't deserve.

"Scared of what, doll? You can talk to me." He whispered, still rocking you back and forth, rubbing your back with his flesh hand.

Of me. You wanted to come clean, but it was terrifying. You couldn't go back to that prison.

"Of... Was I really only there for three months?" Your voice was shaky, confusion laced with fear.

Bucky's guilt at not finding you sooner multiplied tenfold as he took in your expression. You looked so innocent and afraid, his heart broke just thinking about what Hydra did to you.

"Doll, I'm so sorry I couldn't come for you sooner. I know three months must've felt a lot longer... I promise, I'll do everything I can to help you get through this. You're not alone." He held you closer, tucking your head close to his heart in a show of protectiveness.

"Can you just, stay with me tonight?" Your words were barely a whisper, afraid to test the strength of the delusion you found yourself in.

"Of course." His words were firm, but soothing to your ears. "I love you." You squeezed him tighter, resting your body against his as the two of you laid in bed.

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #mcu fic #marvel fic

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dubersbutt · 3 years

Text

4 Times Leon Joined You and Connor

+ 1 Time He Stayed

Summary: How you, Leon and Connor became a thing

Warnings: smut (oral (female receiving, male receiving, penetrative sex), mlm sex (blowjobs)), sexuality crises (sexuality procrastination)

1) The “Accidents”

Leon gets your text message a second too late. The notification with your name and “DON'T OPEN MY SNAP” hanging above the picture of your scantily clad torso, matching royal purple set, the deep colour complimenting your tan skin. Leon is torn between wanting to be respectful and wanting to keep the picture open until he can get himself off. But, he’s a good dude so he does not do the latter. Instead, he closes the snap and texts you back

Leon: Whoops. I didn’t get your message until after I opened it

You: Ugh. I’m sorry, your name is right under Connor’s and my finger slipped.

Leon: Aren’t you supposed to be at school.

You: Stats are boring. I was trying to bother my boyfriend.

Leon: Pay attention in class, (Y/N).

You: 🙄

You: You can keep the picture btw. I know I look good

You: No face, no case

Leon doesn’t keep it but, his finger hovers over the replay button for far too long.

~~~

Leon’s furnace craps out on him halfway into the season, and Alberta winters without heaters isn’t very enjoyable so he temporarily moves in with Connor, the day of the charity gala. Leon has a good time for the most part. Except -

He can’t get that fucking picture out of his head. And your dress hugs you in all the right places and he really hopes that neither you or Connor notice that how often he looks over at you. Connor has to rub elbows with the rich donor more than Leon does, so he keeps you company in between rounds. The two of you keep yourselves entertained by comping up with potential conversations for the other people in the room.

“Leon wait,” you say, clutching his arm and Leon feels his heart skip a beat, “That girl is his daughter, not his sugar baby.”

“No,” Leon was convinced, they were sitting way too close if that were true, “How do you know?”

You point to an older lady that’s approaching the table. She leans down to give the man a quick kiss and Leon’s about to propose a potential mistress until he realizes the girl looks like a younger version of the older woman.

“Shit,” he says and you look at him with wide eyes, “We’re going to hell.”

“We totally deserve it too.”

An hour later, Leon is excusing himself from a conversation with Klefbom and an older lady. She hardly notices, her attention has been focused on Oscar the whole time. Oscar tries to get him to stay but Leon thinks her not-so-subtle flirtation is hilarious.

He laughs when he gets the “I’m gonna fucking kill you” text from Oscar on the way to the bathroom.

Leon: I don’t like being the third wheel

Leon: Make sure she’s not married, klef. You’d be a terrible mistress

Oscar: I would be the best mistress in the history of mistresses.

When Leon opens the door to the bathroom he’s met with the sound of moans. He supposes he should have shut the door right then and there but he opens it all the way without realizing. He’s met with the sight of Connor fucking you on the sink. Your nails are digging into his back as Connor fucks you. He’s frozen for a moment, can’t remember how to move his limbs until you meet his eyes. He’s fairly certain you smile at him but he’s also convinced he imagined it. He replays your moans and tiny whimpers in his head.

He’s not even surprised when he wakes up the next morning and the girl next to him looks a little like you when he squints.

~~~

A week later he’s coming home from a run, the weather had warmed up enough for a short 15 minute jog before he had to pack for the California road trip. He lets himself in through Connor’s garage door, taking off his snowy boots in the mudroom. He takes his earbuds out, pocketing them when he hears -

“I - fuck, don’t tease me.”

Not again.

Now, Leon is kind of annoyed. He texted Connor that he was on his way home, had given him ample time to move to his bedroom. And Leon has to pass the living room to get to the guest room.

“You’re such a brat,” he hears Connor say and the next thing that comes out of his mouth is a loud groan.

Leon has to start packing, they need to be at the airport in an hour. He tries to make his appearance quick and minimal but he meets Connor’s eyes. He mouths, sorry as he picks up the pace, but Connor doesn’t seem to mind. His face is flushed, and his chest is rising and falling quickly. Connor winks at him. Winks.

When he finally makes it to his room he slumps against the walk, leaving the door open a crack so he can hear Connor’s moans. He can’t help it anymore, he pulls the waistband of his pants down, gripping his dick. He has to bite down on his hand to keep his moans at bay. He cums in unison with Connor, using his moans to guide him to finish.

He stands there for a moment, hands sticky with cum listening to Connor praise you through the crack in the door.

~~~

Leon doesn’t make a habit of picking up men during the season. You can never know who's secretly a hockey fan wanting to sell Leon’s bisexuality to the tabloids. Hell, only like 4 people on the team knew. But Anaheim doesn’t have a huge hockey presence so he takes a chance. He gets out of team movie night under the guise of an upset stomach.

Instead, he Ubers to the nearest gay bar. The place is pretty packed when he gets there. He orders a drink and notices a floppy haired blond guy across from him. He’s a little too scrawny to pass as Connor, but Leon’s not asking for perfection. He asks the bartender to send over another of whatever he’s having before he makes his way over to him. Not-Connor’s name is Josh, and they hit off right away.

Soon, Leon’s pushing not-Connor up against the bathroom wall, grinding against him. Not-Connor gets down on his knees and sucks Leon off. It doesn’t take long until Leon’s shooting down his throat with a hand in his thick hair. He starts to get down so he can reciprocate, his jaw is gonna kill him tomorrow but he’s not an asshole, when not-Connor stops him.

“If you want, we can go to mine and you can fuck me,” he says, biting his lip.

Leon’s already forgotten his name, but he says yes anyway.

Not Connor is really fucking flexible, letting Leon hook his legs over his shoulders when he fucks him in missionary. They stop for a quick snack in the kitchen before Leon bends him over the counter and fucks him until tears form in the corner of his eyes.

Leon’s half an hour late for curfew, but no one says anything to him.

2) The Vacation

Don’t get him wrong, Leon is always honoured to be invited to All-Star weekend. However, if he had the choice of being interviewed for two days straight or sitting on a beach in california for a week, he probably wouldn’t put too much though into his decision.

But, he still had 4 days of vacation in Palm Springs with the team before he and Connor had to leave early. Connor had asked him if he wanted to split the cost of the penthouse suite, and because Leon’s room was on the other side of suite as yours and Connor’s room, he said yes.

They left for California as soon as their last game ended, leaving them too tired to party the first night, choosing to order room service instead. Leon gets a plate of honey garlic chicken wings, 12 of them to himself, spaghetti, and a slice of cheesecake because, fuck it, he’s on vacation.

When it arrives, he snatches the plate of wings before Connor could take one, he had a bad habit of saying he didn’t want stuff and then asking for a few bites. Normally, Leon doesn’t care but he’s been craving wings for weeks. Why did he choose the career with the strict diet regimen?

“You’re really not gonna share?” Connor asks, eyebrow raised.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ and sinking his teeth into his second one.

“You have 12!”

“No one was stopping you from ordering your own.”

Leon feels your eyes on him. He assumes it's because he’s foregone any and all manners. The sticky sauce on the wings coat his fingers, he can feel it in his beard but he does not care because they’re so good. He doesn’t care that he’s gone full barbarian-

“Leon do you want to have a threesome with us?” you ask and Leon chokes on a piece of chicken.

“What?” He nearly drops his wing, “Right now?”

Connor’s groans and runs a hand through his hair in exasperation, “This is not how we said we would ask him.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t explain it,” you giggle and gesture at how he’s hunched over his wings, “but this is doing it for me?”

“Really?” Leon asks incredulously and Connor looks at you in disbelief.

“I wish I could say it didn’t.”

Leon squints at you and Connor, “You’re serious about this?”

“Yeah,” You both respond.

“We’ve been discussing adding a third,” Connor asks, “We were going to ask when you weren’t beasting a plate of wings - I admire your ability to eat during a conversation, by the way - but someone can’t keep it in their pants.”

You shrug, taking a bite from your burger.

Leon contemplates it, eating his 8th wing in the meantime.

“Sure,” he says, starting his 9th, “But not tonight. I don’t feel sexy after I eat spaghetti.”

You laugh, “Leon, if you had to choose between only sex or only food which would it be?”

“Food,” he says with no hesitation, or regrets.

~~~

The next day Leon spends baking in the sun. Everybody had decided to spend the day in the attached private pool in the suit. He chirps Connor when his skin starts to burn about an hour into the day and pokes at his red shoulder when he joins Connor under the umbrella.

By the end of the day Leon is pleasantly tipsy, saying goodbye to the team as he lounges on the couch. When the door shuts, you settle yourself in his lap. Your skin is warm from the heat.

Your sheer white swimsuit coverup has been driving Leon insane for the past two hours the team has been in the suite. Although, seeing you in your bikini, watching the water glint off your tan skin as Connor splashed you with the water, was far worse.

“Hi,” you hum, leaning in, “You still down for this?”

“Of course.”

You kiss him, letting out a groan as you do so. Leon rests his hands on your thighs, and when you don’t rebuke him he slides them up, dragging your cover up with him. His fingers toy with the band of your suit bottoms. He pulls away from your mouth, instead kissing along your jaw, scraping his beard against your skin gently. Normally, he wouldn’t be so bold, but, when you first started dating Connor, he told Leon that he started to grow his beard out because you enjoyed the scratch on your skin. He pays attention to the places that draw tiny gasps or moans from you, noting them for later.

“I should have known that the two most impatient people in my life wouldn’t wait for me,” Connor says, holding your jaw to kiss you. Leon doesn’t miss the way your body goes limp against him when Connor’s fingers tighten ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a sub,” Leon hums, pulling your cover up all the way over your head. “She’s not,” Connor interjects, helping Leon with his task, “She’s a brat, but she’s pretty.”

“You’re mean,” you respond, “Should we move to the bedroom?”

Connor pulls you up, off his lap. Leon thinks that he’s just going to lead you, but Connor picks you up. You pull him closer with your legs, grunting as Connor settles you and starts walking to the master bedroom. Leon has to stop himself running after you.

Leon takes two minutes to get there, stopping for a quick glass of water. Two minutes is all it takes for Connor to fuck you from behing. Leon takes a minute, scanning his eyes over the two of you. Connor looks over and winks at him and Leon gets that same pang in his heart again. He stops, and you let out a whine in protest, pushing your hips back against him.

“Take her mouth,” Connor says, nodding towards the empty spot on the bed.

“For the record, I’m not thrilled that you’re bossing me around,” he says but obliges, pulling his swim shorts off on the way there.

He gives himself a few pumps before you reach over and take over, “You can put your hand in my hair,” you say, before you wrap your lips around the tip.

Connor’s hand slides along your spine, lightly dragging his nails as you start to bob your head, taking Leon deeper each time.

“Should we link arms in true Eiffel Towel fashion?”

~~~

Leon thought it was going to be a one-time thing, but the next morning he wakes up with your throat on his dick, and he can hear the shower running. By the time Connor’s back in the room, you’re cuming on Leon’s cock as he spills into the condom.

“You asshats,” Connor says, water dripping down abs, “I leave for five minutes.”

“You take the longest showers known to man, Con,” you tease, accepting his kiss.

That day the team planned on going to go sightseeing, but Leon makes the excuse of finding a girl at the hotel bar last night. Connor says that the two of you are going to take advantage of the empty penthouse. And you do. The next day, during the team hike, the three of you lag behind the rest, too exhausted to keep up.

~~~

Leon thinks that when they land in San Jose for the All Star game, that it’s the end, and he’s almost sad about it. But at the end, Connor and him get the same snap. You lifting up your McDavid jersey to reveal a lacey, navy blue bodysuit. The V dips tantalizingly low, Leon wants to lick the exposed skin and feel your body squirm against his as he teases you. He and Connor change faster than Leon thought was possible, and soon he’s upstairs in yours and Connors room. Connor fucks you first, not giving you quite enough to cum as he finishes, filling you. As Leon’s rolling on the condom, Connor’s whispering in his ear - don’t let her cum.

So Leon fucks you slowly. Holding both of your hands in one of his palms, he takes his time. His thrusts are rhythmic, as he grinds into you, watching your face contort. He rubs your clit, feeling the way you clench around him. He pushes you to the edge and waits before pulling out entirely. He rests his dick on your stomach, pulling off the condom as he cums on your stomach.

3) The Dinner

Connor gets sick from the WEM signing in February. (Whoever decided to have the Oiler’s star player do a fan signing with a thousand people in the middle of flu season needs to be fired but that’s besides the point.) Because of this, he can’t go to the Nuge’s team bonding dinner but he insists that you still come, the other girls would miss you.

So you go, and you press up against Leon every once in a while during drinks. At dinner, you sit next to him, keeping a hand on his thigh at all times. Your hand moves onto his inseam as you spoon risotto into your mouth. While Nuge and Bre are handing out deserts, you lead him down a hallway.

“Hold on...aha!” you push open a door, leading to a guest room. The bed is made, and there’s a picture of Nuge’s dog on the bedside table. You turn the picture down, “I don’t want Sophie to see what we’re about to do.”

“(Y/N), What about Connor?” he asks. Leon has spent the night with you and Connor multiple times since coming home, and he’s fucked you many times but Connor’s always been there.

“Connor doesn’t care,” you say, pushing him down on the bed, “He said it was fine. We can FaceTime him if you want.”

Leon doesn’t think you’re lying, but he does enjoy watching Connor bite his lip as he watches Leon fuck you from behind. He’s got a terrible angle, can’t really see much but just the sounds of you and Leon make him groan into the phone. You end the cal with a quick “I love you.”

“You coming over tonight?” you ask when you and Leon finished getting dressed.

“Obviously.”

Everyone’s tipsy enough that they hadn’t noticed the two of you were gone.

When Leon comes over that night it’s the first time he gets his hands in Connor. He’s just finished fucking you - he’d quickly become the one to call the shots when he was around - and Connor was watching him pound into uou with wide eyes, fists clenched at his side like he was told.

Leon had spent a number of nights with you and Connor by now, but he figured Connor wasn’t into men so he didn’t push it. But this time it was different, he didn’t know why, but it was.

Leon knee-walks over to him, planting his legs on either side of Connor’s thighs. He doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t know if that’s too much, but he slides his hand up the length of them.

Giving a handy for the first time is always a little bit awkward, Leon actually has to pay attention to what they do and do not like, but with Connor it’s easier. It’s still a little awkward, he accidentally squeezes Connor’s base a little too hard and he crumpled against him, but it’s significantly better.

(Later that week you’d have a conversation with Connor.

“You know I don’t mind if you wanna do stuff with Leo when you’re gone right?”

“What?”

“If you want to. You don’t have to but you seemed like you really enjoyed Leo’s hands the other day. Not that I blame you for that.”)

4) The Roadie

Leon isn’t expecting anyone to knock on his hotel door. He’s surprised when it’s Connor there. He’s antsy, cracking his knuckles.

“Hey,” he says, furrowing his brows at Connor’s uneasy demeanour, “everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Connor replies, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Do you wanna come in?”

“Wh-oh yeah sure,” he stutters like he didn’t realize that he was still outside.

Leon lets him in, and Connor walks to the chair on the other side of the room, but doesn’t sit. Leon eyes him as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“So I talked to (Y/N),” Connor starts.

“And…” Leon prompts.

“She said that if we wanted to mess around together on roadies then that’s fine with her,” he takes a deep breath “andivebeenthinkingaboutitandiwannatrymaybebutivenever-”

“Woah woah woah,” Leon stops him, “You’re going to have to repeat that way slower.”

“I was thinking that, if you’re down, then maybe I would be willing to try it?” he trails off at the end.

“Connor?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

“Maybe,” Connor takes another deep breath, “I mean I’ve never done anything with a dude before, but I kinda liked it the other day. But like, only if you want to.”

“We can fool around on roadies,” picking up is so much work, Leon would love to have a steady side piece - even though he doesn't have a main piece, “Since when were you into dudes.”

Connor rubs a hand over his face, “Don’t start with me. I’ve been having an ongoing sexuality crisis for a while. I love women, (Y/N) especially, but we’re tabling this conversation for, like a year.”

“Just one thing,” he says, finally sitting down on the bed next to him, “I don’t want you to….fuck me just yet.”

Leon wants to laugh, Connor’s so straight that it hurts, “Gay sex isn’t like straight sex, there’s a process. And, I don’t want to brag, but if I were to fuck you, you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week and you’re kind of important to the team.”

“So...you’re a bottom,” Leon teases, poking him in the shoulder.

“I think so? Obviously I won’t really know until I try it but I see the appeal….what are you?”

Leon does laugh at that, “ I usually top but I don’t mind taking it every once in a while.”

Connor nods, which Leon finds adorable. The last time Leon dealt with any kind of virginity was when he was losing his own (both times), and he’s kind of excited.

Connor leans in, kissing Leon softly. Leon pushes against them, hand coming up to card through Connor’s hair. A few moments later, he pulls away.

“What’s the verdict?” Leon asks.

“Your beard feels weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird,” Leon didn’t have a 5 step beard oil routine for it to feel bad.

“Good weird.”

Leon hums in approval. Connor leans back in, and this time Leon pushes him down on the bed and Connor lets him. He lets Leon trail kisses down his neck, chest heaving off the bed once Leon gets that spot at his jawbone that drives him crazy.

“You good?” Leon asks as he lowers himself between Connor’s spread legs. Connor nods, “If you’re uncomfortable, tell me and we stop.”

He takes Connor’s dick out of his shorts, only mildly surprised when he realizes Connor’s not wearing any underwear. He licks his lips as he starts to jack him off. Connor lets out a breathy moan as Leon drops his hound to the base of his cock a with a gentle squeeze. Leon leans forward, sucking on the head gently as he watches Connor’s face turn red. Leon bobs his head down, taking more down his throat each time. Leon digs his fingers into Connor’s hips to keep them down.

“Easy, baby,” Leon murmurs, not realizing the nickname was on the tip of his tongue until it had slipped out, “It’s been a while, you’re gonna have to give me a second before you fuck my throat.”

“ ‘M sorry,” Connor says, panting.

“It’s okay, Con,” Leon responds, reaching for Connor’s hand and placing it in his hair.

“Fuuck, Leo,” Connor grunts when Leon starts to suck on his head.

Leon finds a good rhythm, bobbing his head low and hollowing his lips as he comes up. Connor is groaning, Leon should probably tell him to keep his voice down given that they’re surrounded by the team but he doesn’t care.

Leon drops his dick, until the very tip of his cock, and sucks. Connor grunts, thrusting up into Leon’s hands before Leon starts to slide his hand up and down quickly, bringing Connor to the edge.

“Close,” he pants, “I-close, Leo, plea-”

Leon sinks his head down one more time before Connor hits the back of his throat. He sputters a little as Connor keeps spilling into his mouth. He feels a little bit dribble out, and when he finally pulls off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“How was that?” Leon asks, tucking Connor’s soft dick under the waistband of his shorts.

Connor has a hand thrown over his face, and his only answer is a groan. Leon can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I know my head game is strong.”

(Connor tries to give Leon a blowjob, but he gets a little too ambitious and chokes a few bobs in. Connor sputters and coughs, and Leon can’t help but chuckle as Connor grips his thighs, trying to catch his breath. He wants to try again but Leon stops him.

“You’ve done a lot today, you can try again later if you want to.”

“No, no I can do it.”

Leon explains that he doesn’t want Connor to bite his dick and Connor relaxes, giving him a hanjob instead. His pressure is a little light, so Leon wraps his hand around Connor’s and guides him until Leon finishes all over his stomach.

(Connor hesitantly runs a finger through the mess, before slowly raising his finger to his lips. He scrunches his nose in disgust. “Drink some pineapple juice, ugh.” and Leon laughs)

Connor leaves shortly after, and Leon definitely doesn’t replay the moment over and over again in his head.)

+ 1) The One Time he Stayed

When Leon pulls up into Connor’s driveway, he’s expecting the usual: play with Lenny, threesome, play with Lenny, dinner, play with Lenny, maybe round two, decide if he wants to drive home at 3 am (the answer is most likely no).

However, when he shows up Connor isn’t even home, which is not normal. Lenard throws himself at Leon when he walks through the door, knocking him down on the floor.

“One of these days he’s gonna be successful in his assination attempts,” you joke from your place on the couch.

“There are worse ways to die,” he says as he gets back on his feet, this time ready for Lenny’s high energy. Eventually Lenny decides Leon is not worth his time, padding off to his bed by the fireplace, so Leon sits by you on the couch.

“Watchya reading?” he asks, poking you in the side.

“My textbook detailing the different types and phases of psychosis,” you say, capping your highlighter.

“Hm,” Leon grunts, “Uplifting.”

“Very,” you place the book on the coffee table, “So Connor was telling me about your hook up on the roadie.”

Leon’s heart stops, “Connor said it was okay and you seduced me at Nuge’s so I assumed-”

“Leon, relax” you cut him off with a chuckle, “I’m not mad.”

Leon lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“And I did not seduce you at Nuge’s.”

“You led me down a hallway I’ve never been in just to have sex with me in their guest bedroom,” he raises an eyebrow, “that’s the definition of seducing.”

You mutter something that Leon can’t decipher under his breath which he knows means that he’s won this argument.

“Anyways,” you say, clearing your throat, ““Connor was gonna be here, but he had an appointment and now he’s stuck on the Henday but he’ll be here soon. We were talking and we were thinking, only if you wanted to, that maybe you could join us...as a couple.”

Leon isn’t sure he understands your proposal.

“What?”

“Would you like to join me and Connor as a third?” you ask, “If you don’t want you can leave before Connor comes home and we’ll never bring it up again.”

~~~

Later that day, when Leon is falling asleep with Connor on one side of him using his chest as a pillow and you’re on his other side tucked against him, he’ll think about what a strange road it was to get here. Connor’s already asleep, listening to Leon’s heartbeat as his head rises and falls on with Leon’s breath.

“So was this always the plan?” Leon asks when he feels you tracing something on his skin.

“Hm?” you question.

“Was this all an elaborate ploy to get me to join you and Connor?” he clarifies, “Because if so, kudos because I never expected.”

“No,” Connor mumbles against Leon’s chest, turns out he wasn’t asleep, “We didn’t expect to ask you to join us more than once in California but you’re too damn cute.”

“I never thought we would because I didn’t think Davo was into dudes,” you say, “We get any closer to an answer on the sexuality thing, Con?”

“We’ll get there when we get there.”

#nhl smut #leon draisaitl #connor mcdavid #leon draisaitl imagine #connor mcdavid imagine #leon draisaitl smut #connor mcdavid smut #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #polyfic

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

Walk You Home (Jeno x reader) angst

A/n : hey. Yeah sorry for the long disappearance. Here is a story that even happened in my dream.

For you @yutahoes for the request on June lmao took me a month, but I hope this is okay

Pairing : Jeno x you + Jaemin

wc : 2415!!

Trigger warning : dead character, supernatural incidents, the ghost is lurking, language

i hope this is good enough

@yutahoes @neopalette @supermwritersnet @multifandomnet

He still remembers the accident in the back of his mind. It haunts Jeno every night how he sees his best friend laying on the emergency bed with a bleeding head and a pair of eyes that lose focus as the paramedics run through the corridors. Jeno still remembers running with them, pushing the dying man with a pretty smile to the operation room. Jeno can still feel Jaemin’s almost gone breath as he tried to send his last will to Jeno. Jeno never forgets the last will Jaemin said before the angelic guy closes his eyes forever.

They were only 21, enjoying their life to the best. Nights spent partying at clubs and fraternities, lunch spent with cute girls and the basketball teams, afternoon spent together as they always did since they were young. Jeno and Jaemin, the duo you always wish to be, an inseparable best friend, the two handsome princes. Everything seems perfect, until the night Jaemin got hit by a drunk driver and Jeno had to watch his one and only best friend let his hand go.

“Jeno?” a soft voice disturbs his daydream and the boy quickly shakes his head.

“Yes love?” He puts on his eye smile when he sees you, his girlfriend for ten months sitting beside him in the library.

“What were you thinking?” you whisper while looking at him to find answers. He is so hard to read and you’re still trying to be able to read him.

Jeno only picks your hand on the table and plants a quick light kiss “Nothing, just what flower to bring tomorrow.”

You sympathetically rub his back and squeeze his hand “Jaemin loves cherry blossoms of course we will bring that.”

Jeno just nods “Won’t he be bored?”

You rub his hair “He loves cherry blossoms, he won’t be bored of it.” you say and turn to face your book to start reading.

Jeno just keeps staring at his hand that you just held, there’s a silver band encircling his finger and when he glances at you, he sees the same ring but in a smaller size on your hand.

It’s Jaemin’s second death commemoration, Jeno misses him dearly but every night Jeno is haunted by the same nightmare.

He plays with the ring in his finger and chooses to distract himself with his phone once his corner of his eyes caught a glimpse of his best friend. Cross out the ghost of Jaemin.

It’s been two years and Jeno can still occasionally “see” Jaemin. No one sees him, his friends just say that Jeno grew up too attached and that he misses Jaemin that’s why his mind kept on seeing things. But Jeno is sure, the Jaemin he sees is the real spirit of Jaemin. He’s always seen looking over you and Jeno and his smile is still as pretty as it can be.

-----

Jeno enters his apartment, after Jaemin is gone, he chose to move into a studio so he won’t keep getting reminded of the past. But as the young boy closes his door and strips himself to take a shower, his reflection in the mirror made him stop. There he can see Jaemin sitting on the top of his book shelf, but when he looks back he’s not there.

On the mirror, he can see his friend still happily swinging his feet.

“What do you want Jaem?” he snickers at himself for talking to a spirit in his room.

Jeno of course knows there won’t be any answers, but he knows the look in Jaemin’s eyes and he knows his friend wants to say something.

“I will come to your grave tomorrow. I didn’t forget.” he crosses his arms over his chest.

Jaemin smiles but shakes his head

“You keep on showing up Jaem and it’s tiring for me. It’s painful to see you but you’re not here with me.” his frustration that he keeps in his heart starts to boil.

Jaemin remains calm and Jeno laughs at his own reflection “Look at me. I am out of my mind, talking to a mirror. Well, I’ll shower and please if you want to say something show it or say it. I’ll shower. DON’T FOLLOW ME.” he still playfully jokes around about this and Jeno takes off his accessories and then closes his bathroom door.

Jaemin jumps down the shelves and walks around the room, well he is still here despite two years of leaving this world because he had one thing left to do.

Jaemin reaches out for the picture frame of Jeno and him how Jeno’s smile was so genuine back then but now it looks fake and forced.

He doesn’t want his best friend to be sad, and Jaemin has to fix that.

Jaemin sits down and flashes back on three months ago when he was sitting on top of your cupboard. He always does this and he’s grateful you cannot see him or he’ll be called a peeping tom. He overheard you calling your best friend and asking about your relationship with Jeno.

For Jaemin this sounds weird, he sees how happy you are with Jeno but why are you talking like this to your friend.

The conversation he overheard was clear and fresh in his memory.

“I don’t know about Jeno, but he seems to be tired of me.” you spoke to your best friend, Renjun on the call.

“What do you mean? He’s happy when you said yes eight months ago.”

“Yes but eight months he always treated me like I am that special, isn’t that weird?”

“Are you high? All girls want to be treated like a princess. Jeno is doing that to you but you don’t want that?”

You sigh “No, it just seems fishy Renjun-ah. Men usually will show their true self after some months together, we never fight. He always lets me win. Not that I don’t like it, its just like he is just doing a duty. I don’t feel any surprise, everything seems perfect and planned.”

Jaemin scrunches his eyebrows and almost falls from the cupboard when you suddenly look in his direction.

The guy finally left after hearing the rest of the call and since he’s been coming over to see you for almost one year and a half, he always listened to whatever you were sharing that Jeno never knew.

What Jaemin finds fascinating is that Jeno never knows that you felt something weird about the relationship.

-----

Jaemin glances over to the countertop near Jeno’s bed and notices the silver ring with your initials in it. He reaches over but passes through it. He sighs and keeps his hands to himself “(y/n)” he whispers to himself as he looks at the ring with big eyes.

The bathroom door opens and Jeno comes out of the steam with wet hair and red eyes.

Jaemin quickly disappears, had Jeno been crying?

Jeno grabs his phone that lights up with a reminder. “Text (y/n) good night,” the reminder says and he obediently unlocks his phone to type in his message.

Jaemin never notices this because well he never pays attention to his phone. But if he knows this, he’ll be furious.

----

The two of you park the car near the picturesque scenery where Jaemin’s resting place is located. Well, if Jeno is his long life best friend, you are Jaemin’s high school friend.

Both of you take turns, you go first to the grave, plucking out some wild grass while trying to tell Jaemin that Jeno is doing well and that you miss him. You don’t spend too much time as you know Jeno will have more to say.

“Wait in the car okay, lock the door.” Jeno kisses the top of your head as he brings the cherry blossom to his best friend.

“It’s been two years,” Jeno started “And eleven months with (y/n). I am so sorry that I have to tell you this Jaem, but.” Jeno pauses. He looks around trying to find Jaemin.

“But I cannot do this any longer. It’ll only hurt her more. I am sorry Jaem.” Jeno gives a stroke on the stone and leaves not long after.

Both of you drive in silence, it’s uncommon since you try to respect Jeno’s emotions for you know it must be hard for him.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks before making an exit on the highway.

You look at him “I have to get something for mom, but it’s going to be a hassle to bring a car and find parking space there.”

Jeno didn’t give you a chance to speak anything else when he just cuts you with “Oh we can park my car and I’ll walk with you there.”

You want to deny him and say no thank you, but dating Jeno for 11 months, you know it’s hard to make the man change his mind.

“Okay, thank you. I was about to ask Renjun to accompany me but if you’re not busy then yes please come with me.” you calmly thank him and Jeno just nods his head.

You observe his face from the side, isn’t he jealous? Shouldn’t he be jealous? How come his face doesn’t show any change of emotion?

You bite your lips and tune the radio louder as both of you enter Jeno's living space.

He parked his car, goes up to take his bus card and soon after returned by your side with two caps.

“It’s sunny, you would want to wear this.” he puts it over your head and you just smile. Maybe he really is attentive and full of care

The market district was full of stands and you were looking through some types of textile. Your mother is a designer and she makes custom made dress, it’s your job to find the textile she wanted.

Jeno just stays beside you. Admiring how professional you look. If Jaemin is here, he knows that man could help you pick. After all, Jaemin is more suitable to be your boyfriend than Jeno is. He shakes his head to clear his mind. Lately he’s been thinking of crazy stuffs

“We’re done.” you say after pocketing the card your mom gave and you hold his hand. Jeno was surprised “Oh where’s the stuffs let me bring it” his other hand reaches over you to usually take over the stuffs you have but he found nothing.

You giggle “They will send it home Jeno, it’s too heavy if we have to carry it home. Now come on, let me treat you to coffee. You seem out of your mind.” you say goodbye to the vendor and drag your man to a coffee shop nearby.

“Here’s your americano.” you hand him the coffee and he questions you “Oh we’re not sitting down?”

You shake your head “You look tired Jen, let’s go home okay.” you rub his hair and take his hand into your palm.

Jeno can see Jaemin on the corner of the shop smiling at him, but his smile was different. Jaemin looked sad.

“It’s our bus come Jen.” you wonder why he’s always day dreaming lately but you won’t force him to answer you.

The bus ride was quick. Both of you are living close to each other, so usually you will separate at the bus stop or he’ll walk you home.

The walk was filled with light talks like him asking what you will do after this and you just ask him about his cats.

“We’re here.” he softly lets go off your hand that he’s been holding.

You smile “Thank you, goodbye, get home safe.”

He nods “I’m gonna watch you go inside, so hurry and go in.”

He waits as you turn your back to enter the apartment.

You wave back at him and he blows a flying kiss to you.

“See you tomorrow.” you yell before disappearing and Jeno smiled.

Jeno turns around and questions if he misses you already.

“Goodnight, good bye, see you tomorrow” he chants to himself, repeating what just happened.

In a few hours, it’ll be the long-awaited weekend

I’ll pick you up so sleep in

And let’s meet at that place at 2pm,

Jeno whispers to himself “to break up.”

He feels a lump on his heart been taken away and he can walk home with a lighter steps. On his way to his apartment, he enjoys the breeze and thinks that it’s time to end the lie.

Once he steps into his apartment, he sees Jaemin once again greeting him, this time with a small smile.

Jeno raises his brow, he doesn’t know what that smile means.

“I am breaking up with her. I am sorry.” Jeno speaks up

Jaemin nods

“You loved her, and we once made a promise that we will fulfil each other’s last wishes.” Jeno took off his cap

Jaemin just keeps staring at him, wanting him to continue

“And I did your last wish.” he tosses the cap to the bed “You want to date (y/n), but you didn’t get the chance. I did all of the things you wanted to do with her as a boyfriend.”

Jaemin still smiles but pitifully

“I brought her to your favorite place, accompanies her when she studies, text her good night and good morning daily, I followed her shopping, I walk her home and I tried loving her like how you would, but Jaemin it’s not fair if she knows this and my feelings are tired of pretending.”

Jaemin nods slowly and Jeno feels bad

“But sorry Jaem, she can’t keep living in a lie.” Jeno takes off the ring and puts it down

“Sooner or later, she will know that the J here stands for Jaemin and not Jeno. and that will happen tomorrow.”

Jeno sits down and buries his face in his hands. He pulls at his hairs, feeling confused, happy and sad at the same time.

He feels a warm touch on his shoulder and when he looks up behind his watery eyes, he sees Jaemin sends him the best smile he ever sees and he looks peaceful. Slowly as Jeno tries to hold his friend for the last time, Jaemin fades and disappears completely into thin air.

Life goes on, Jeno stop lying and finally Jaemin can leave in peace and you? You finally know the answer why your guts keep telling you that this looks odd.

end.

#jeno x reader #jeno x y/n #jeno x you #jeno angst #jeno scenario #jeno x jaemin #jeno imagine #nct dream angst #nct angst #lee jeno scenarios #jeno oneshot

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Hope in the sheets.7

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 4.4k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: mentions a sex tape, mentions a birth tape

[First] [Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” This videotape felt dirty, Hoseok wasn’t sure why, but he was sweaty, his heart raced, as he tried to look anywhere but at the screen. The woman on the video kept making noises and heaven forbid he look between her legs. Was it warm in here or was it just him?

“As you can see the birth canal opens up wide to let the babies head come down and out and the shoulder here is the widest part, so you have to be careful to listen to your body otherwise you may tear, so here we go these are the final pushes and then the baby will slip out—”

“Hoseok, Hoseok wake up!” You called alarmed, Hoseok opened his eyes to see you and the birth class instructor standing over him.

“Don’t worry love, there is always one in every class who faints” The woman handed over some ice, “Put this behind his neck it will help slow his heart rate, nerves sometimes get the better of the soon to be dads”

Sitting up Hoseok sat up a little embarrassed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to faint”

“No, Hobi, it’s okay I feel nauseous as hell after that video too. That looks scary as hell I don’t think I can do it” you whined. “This class traumatized me more than it helped, and what do we get a couple of cookies and some watered down juice.

“You are so strong and I think you can do it?” Hoseok tried to reassure you and you scoffed.

“If you're so confident you push the baby out.” Hoseok paled again swaying on the spot and you laid him back down. “You are properly scared aren’t you?”

“I am horrified,” he laughed, “I am a big chicken”

“Honestly, I am scared too but I don’t get a choice Hobi, this baby is inside me and it has to get out somehow." you shiver after confessing the fear that had been building in the back of your mind. “If I wasn’t afraid of surgery I would install the old side door”

The gesture of a flat hand across your stomach made Hoseok smile sadly. He took your hands in his.

“I’m sorry that you have been dreading this. I will try to be someone who can eliminate your fears, little darling momma” he kissed your head. The instructor called everyone back to the mats and began explaining how to wash a baby and how to hold a baby for the first time.

It was a fun class but you were happy to get home and rest, biding Hoseok good night. He went quickly to his house where Jimin was sitting waiting for him with a hanging clothes bag.

“What were you so busy doing that I had to pick up your dry cleaning?”

“Y/n’s birthing class” Hoseok's face turned grave as he adopted a serious tone. “Jimin, don’t ever go to a birthing class. I don’t think I can unsee what I saw.”

“Haha, I’m not that silly, I know where babies come from. I am glad I am a man who likes men, so I will never step foot in a birthing class unless you pay me a large fortune. I mean I could watch someone give birth for money."

Hoseok shivered, making Jimin laugh at his expense. “You look pale, so let's change the subject. I bought Yoongi's old van. He sold it for some new equipment. That means I can get rid of the junk van I was driving before.”

“Can I have your old van?” Hoseok jumped on the opportunity.

“Uh sure, but I think it’s more money than it’s worth, you can have it for free because it needs new everything.” He shrugged “I was just going to make it scrapped metal”

“Yeah I can fix it up, I got some money lying around.” Hoseok yawned, “anyway thank you so much for getting my suit. I have my first day of work tomorrow, so I should go to bed early”

“Alright, but tomorrow night celebratory drinks for your first day?” Jimin clutched his shoulder.

“Of course,” Hoseok laughed, waving goodbye and carrying the suit to his apartment.

“Hey man, how was your day?” Jimin shouted from his newly acquired van from Yoongi. “Get in, we can celebrate tonight”

Jimin drove Hoseok home under strict orders to grab a nice change of clothes so the two could get ready at his house and go out celebrating Hoseok’s new job. Hoseok took the stairs two at a time leading to his apartment, his hand brushing past your old door. He missed you. He missed having you at his work, at his home, at his leisure. You two were inseparable and yet torn apart by the stages of life.

Hoseok had assumed you both would be single and somewhere in your mid-thirties you would just get married to one another for convenience. He grabbed some clothes and found the blacklight outfit you had bought for him, he pushed it aside trying to move on for just a moment.

Instead, he grabbed a classic black button-up and a pair of black dress pants. He placed the items in a bag and headed back down to Jimin waiting excitedly in the driver's seat. He drove them across town singing along to the radio and pulled into the driveway of a beautiful home. Jimin was a sugar baby and so he accumulated a lot of money with ease.

Jimin picked up the package by his doorstep curiously and read the name, his face broke out into a smile. Opening the box he found a beautiful pair of earrings. Hoseok paused, knowing Jimin had been talking about these types of earrings for a long time, but these ones looked handmade and a little cheap, not from a brand-name store like most of Jimin’s other clients would buy.

“They are so cute,” Jimin smiled, lifting the note, reading it aloud. “I don’t have money, so I don’t ask for much, it would just be a waste of your time. Even with this, I still want you to know that I think you are really sweet the way you always help others and never forget to share compliments to those who catch your eye. I will never forget how kind and funny, you are especially at work. The way you run your fingers through your hair unconsciously, how you pout when you think, the way you can glide across the dance floor with drinks without spilling anything. You disappear behind the bar with the cutest laugh and I am completely in love with you.”

“You have an admirer,” Hoseok looked over his shoulder at the letter before asking, “I wonder who it is?”

“I am not sure who it could be?” Jimin frowned, taking the box into a spare room filled with gifts. “They seem really nice”

Once the letter was placed carefully in the room, Jimin stepped out and decided to get dressed for the night. He paused in the doorway walking back and taking the earrings. “Even though they are cheap I think I should at least wear them.”

The two got changed and Jimin posed, “take a picture of me looking over my shoulder, so I can post a picture of the earrings on my Insta”

Hoseok picked up his phone and stepped behind Jimin, ready to take the picture of Jimin’s bare shoulder, earring, and side profile. He stopped when his phone came up with the stupid storage message.

Storage full!

You can free up space on this phone by managing your storage in settings.

“I can’t take a picture,” Hoseok sighed. “My phone storage is full”

“It’s okay, I should put on a bit of makeup to make the picture really pretty. While I do that, use my computer to plug it in and delete stuff. You can save the rest onto a USB, which you will find in the top draw. The USBs should be empty.

Hoseok watched Jimin stroll into the bathroom and thought he might as well take care of this storage issue on the phone. Plugging the device in, Hoseok began going through and deleting memes and stupid screenshots he no longer needed. He went through saving many photos of you, and videos the two of you shared together.

That's when he came across the picture of the two of you dressed in your black light outfits. Both of you looking happy together in the mirror. Hoseok saved the photo to the USB. The next was a blurry picture on the dance floor, he didn’t need that.

Deleting a range of blurred photos, Hoseok kept swiping through them until he came across a video of you and Hoseok walking home. He heard you giggling and unconsciously smiled. He honestly was so in love with you.

There were a few more blurred videos and then there was a video of you two laying in Hoseok’s bed. His heart started to race as he watched you lean down and kiss him in the video. Hoseok couldn’t remember any of this.

The next video was of you removing your dress but it continued, sometimes the phone was just left on the bed face down, at other points, it was lifted and Hoseok heard himself talking as he pointed the camera at you underneath him. “I love you.” He had filmed you while you two were having sex, “I love being inside of you too.”

Hoseok felt a little guilty, while you two were drunk he took a video of you both, not only that but he felt as if he took advantage of you. The next video was taken from behind and Hoseok felt ashamed of himself for the stirring in his pants.

“Are you watching porn?” Jimin laughed from the next room, confused as Hoseok switched to the next video. The two of you were cuddling on your side, Hoseok being the big spoon.

Hoseok's face fell. What had he just watched? His head was reeling with so many thoughts that he couldn’t process them fast enough. He understood that it was you in the video, and you were with him. It was that night. Were you his dream girl? “I slept with Y/n?” He blurted and like being hit with a truck he came to a shocking revelation. Hoseok shot to his feet and spoke out loud hoping it would help him make sense of the situation, “Am I, I think, I might be the father?”

“Oh, Finally!” Jimin shouted, his voice carrying into the office. “I have been waiting for you to figure it all out”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok said his stomach was feeling sick, he didn’t know if he wanted to vomit or cry. The betrayal setting in, “How did you know? DID SHE KNOW?”

Jimin stepped into the room, his lips pressed together in a thin line, with a look of pity on his face confirming Hoseok's suspicion. Hoseok got up, his eyes flashing around the room in a panic. He pushed past Jimin and grabbed the old set of keys from the countertop. Hoseok escaped and drove fast. He didn’t have a destination in mind but after a few minutes of driving he ended up at a park by Han River.

Shutting off the engine, Hoseok let his hands fall from the wheel, his head resting back against the seat, letting out a loud guttural shout. He let the tears fall freely as his sobs racked his body, every breath catching in his throat as if he was choking.

Hoseok wanted to scream, he wanted answers. They all knew. You knew. He thought he was your best friend, someone he trusted with all his secrets, and yet you kept something this big from him. The sick feeling in his stomach grew as did his anger and frustration with the situation.

How long were you going to keep this from him? When the baby was born? When the child was eighteen? Never? He had a right to know but all he wanted to know was why.

He left the vehicle, his phone ringing with your number but he turned it off. He walked to the nearest bar somewhere dark and quiet and he drank until he couldn’t see his hands.

“Hey mate you have to go, come on get up.” The bartender said, nudging him with an exaggerated sigh, “Mate can I call someone to come get you?”

“No one, my best friend is a liar, she is pregnant and didn’t even tell me it is my child,” Hoseok mumbled into the table. The bartender sighed again reaching into his pocket, “Who do you want me to call mate?”

“No need to call, I will go,” he said, pulling out his keys only to have them snatched from his hand. Hoseok turned to see Yoongi grabbing Hoseok’s things and thanking the bartender. “What do you want?”

“I got a distressed call from Y/n she is hysterical, I have checked in every bar and searched the nearby streets for Jimin’s old van. Yoongi threw the keys to Jimin who was waiting by the abandoned van and Yoongi scooped Hoseok inside.

Hoseok woke as Yoongi turned the key in the ignition they were headed for his home, but Hoseok had other plans. “You knew didn’t you?” Hoseok growled, “Take me to her."

“Not in this state?” Yoongi said definitely. “You are going to sober up, and then tomorrow you can speak with her.”

“You take me there right now, or I will get out of this car and go there myself!” Hoseok demanded, attempting to remove his seatbelt.

“Alright, alright sit down, I will take you to see her, but if you raise your voice at her I will knock you out and drag you back to your apartment." Yoongi turned to Hoseok with a menacing glare. "Do you understand?”

He nodded needing answers and he wasn't going to stop until you gave them to him. They pulled up outside your home and as he walked to the door he felt as if his legs were weak, ready to give way. He knocked with shaking hands.

He didn’t have to wait long for you to pull open the door eyes pink and swollen from your own tears.

"Hobi, I-"

"Please don’t talk, you had your chance. This whole time, and you didn’t… You didn’t tell me, little darling.” His voice cracked as he held up a hand to stop you, “it’s my turn to talk, you can listen to me.”

He watched you wipe the tears away, he wanted to comfort you, you were his closest friend. He loved you so much and couldn’t bear to see you upset. “You knew we had sex, you knew what we did and you hid that from me, you fell pregnant and you hid that from me?”

“I told you when I lost my virginity, I told you when I scratched my dad’s car, I told you when I took money from my fathers wallet, or when I stole your homework. I told you when I was moving from home, I told you everything good and bad.” Hoseok pulled out the phone and played the video, the sounds of you two together filling the air. “But you couldn’t tell me, your best friend, that we did this? That I might be the father of this baby?”

“Hobi, I wanted to tell you I was-” Your tears were relentless and it looked like the weight of the world was crushing you with guilt. You looked lost, he knew there must be so much you wanted to say and explain but the words escaped you. All you could think to do was apologize, like some sort of animatronic doll with one function.

“Wanted to tell me isn’t telling me,” he frowned. “Say it, is this baby mine?”

“Yes, you are the father?” You whimpered, holding your stomach. Hoseok didn’t feel better. He didn’t feel better confronting you or getting the truth. He didn’t feel better watching you cry. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You are all I have Hobi, and I love you.”

“I thought I loved you too. I thought I really truly loved you, that even though I wasn’t the father, I would step in if I could. It turns out the woman I fell in love with is nothing but a liar.” Hoseok turned away unable to see your face contort in pain from the words he was saying, “I am disappointed in you. You said you wanted to grow up, but this is so immature”

Demanding to leave, Yoongi took Hoseok and headed to the van once more, hoping that the two of you could rebuild your relationship. It was painfully obvious that you both were painfully in love, so much so, that it was breaking your hearts more to fight with one another, than over whatever the fight was about.

You had spent the rest of the night crying until pure exhaustion took over your body and you fell asleep. No matter how many times you texted or called you got no response. You had left almost fifteen voicemails before you became too hysterical to speak. You were emotional and trying your hardest not to break down long enough for you to think things through.

It took four days and sitting in the bottom of the shower for ten minutes before you came to a decision. Even before Hoseok knew he was the father, you had planned to do it on your own. You weren't weak and you knew for certain that you would be okay. You had planned to raise this child as a single mother, you had hoped to tell Hoseok before all this happened, but you had planned for it just in case something like this did happen.

You could do this without Hoseok, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt, that you weren't mourning the relationship you had lost. You picked yourself up and put on a brave face crying only when you were alone as you single-handedly funded Ben and Jerry's company with the amount of ice cream you consumed.

You arrived at the next prenatal appointment. You watched all the couples cooing at their bellies and the little sonogram photos, as you sat alone quietly rubbing your belly and thinking how much you loved this child.

It strengthened your bond between you and your baby. You were working hard at your job, not ready to go on maternity leave as you didn’t know how financially stable you would be. You also worried because, without the distractions of work, you realized how alone you truly were and how much you missed Hoseok.

You wanted nothing more than to go back in time and take it all back. You wanted to get the courage and tell him. You would give anything to wake up beside him the morning after and just let yourselves deal with the aftermath.

Your mother's words echoed in your head, only able to be drowned out by the sound of your baby's heartbeat through the doppler, as the ultrasound technician measured your sweet little baby girl.

She had done no wrong and deserved only good things. It was on your way home from the scan that you decided to enter the baby boutique. You knew you were filling a Hoseok shaped void in your chest but you didn’t care, purchasing clothes, socks and shoes, and a tiny beanie all in mint green, white, or grey. At the checkout, you saw a small personal travel doppler for eighty dollars. It wasn’t as strong or as reliable as the one at the clinic but you bought it anyway.

It was the first thing you did when you got home, you put the gel on your stomach and pressed the doppler to your tummy, and listened to the tiny heartbeat and the swishing of the umbilical cord. The tears didn’t stop and that heartbeat in your belly was the mantra to which you swore to live your new life.

You were no longer living for yourself, you were living for your daughter, whom you loved so dearly. You stopped looking for Hoseok through the seventh and moved into the eighth month of your pregnancy feeling semi-okay.

Called by the marketing director to meet with the client, you followed him with documents, “Why did you pick me?” you asked

“You are the only one fit for this job,” He said, which made you feel odd, surely the pregnant lady wasn’t the first choice. However, you obeyed his orders, grabbed your coat, and followed to the restaurant where you were met with an unbelievable sight.

There was Hoseok standing by a beautiful woman dressed in a suit. Not only was it a punch to the chest, but it also left you self-conscious, resembling a chocolate egg. The way your body was so rotund did not do wonders for one's self-esteem.

Hoseok didn’t notice you until you stepped up to the table, your director announcing your arrival and greeting the young woman with a kiss on each cheek. “This is my hardest working assistant Miss Y/n,” The director said and you wondered again why he had chosen you to accompany him to the meeting.

“Well let’s get to business” the client smiled. You sat at the table and they brought out menus. “I will have the salmon en papillote, with a nice chardonnay.”

“I will have the same,” the marketing director said, attempting to look cool but you weren’t so sure.

“We will have the Steak au Poivre, I will take medium rare and she will have hers well done. What is in the side salad?” Hoseok asked and you looked up over the menu shocked by his audacity.

“We use a mesclun mix for its various colors and textures, with Lebanese cucumbers and avocado for a fresh and creamy taste and a drizzle of classic french vinaigrette” the waiter smiled politely.

“Skip the salads and instead vegetables would be preferable for both.” Hoseok closed the menu and looked up, the waiter looked at you for confirmation and you nodded handing over the menu.

“Have you two met before?” The client asked curiously and Hoseok shook his head, “It’s just you ordered for her?”

“She is pregnant so the best meat option is beef well cooked, and the salad would most likely make her sick due to the acidity in the vinaigrette.” Hoseok continued, “the vegetables, though plain, will be easier to handle and will benefit her better than a salad. It is something I learned in a birthing class once”

“Yeah, and you haven’t been back since.” You scoffed, drinking your water trying to calm yourself so you didn’t explode with anger.

“I didn’t think I had to, seeing as I am not the father of any children.” He said dryly back and you stood up throwing the napkin at him, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t care if he didn’t like you and refused to acknowledge your presence ever again, but saying that about your child was not okay.

“You take that back, Hoseok." You almost shouted but restrained yourself due to the setting, Hoseok didn’t appear to move and you tilted your head back and took a shaky breath. “I am sorry, it seems I am feeling ill, allow me to leave first”

You stepped out the door and headed down the road trying to find a cab when a hand grabbed your arm. Disappointed when it turned out to be the marketing director. “I rescheduled our meeting, I am sorry, you had to deal with something like this, it must be stressful being so pregnant”

He touched your belly and you were a little uncomfortable. This man was a little too interested in your pregnancy. At first, you thought he was just a nice boss who was looking out for you, but it was clear he had some strange thoughts running through his mind.

When he said he would drive you home, you told him you had an appointment. Even then he was determined to take you to the appointment, but you waved down a cab and jumped in quickly. You arrived at Jin and Tonic for a much-needed appointment.

“I want a drink” you sighed and Seokjin gave you water and you looked up seriously. I want an actual drink Jin, I am going through the worst year of my life.”

“Worse than the time you tried to become a volunteer at a homeless center, where some weird lady cut chunks out of your hair, so you had to shave it off?"

"Then you got into a fight with Hoseok because he drew an arrow on your head while you were sleeping and everyone called you Aang,” Jimin added as he shed his small jacket, showing off a pretty choker chain necklace with a rose pendant. “Cause you said that was the worst year of your life.”

“This is worse,” you said. “At least I was the one angry at Hobi and I forgave him quickly, now he is angry at me and even denied being the father of our baby. That’s not even the worst of it. My boss has some sort of pregnancy fetish and keeps trying to touch my belly and I am not here for it”

“Pregnancy fetish?”

“It’s not sexy, I am swollen from the neck down, I couldn’t see my feet this morning. I just hope I wore the same shoes. My bladder is so squished I am peeing all the time, I am hormonal and sweaty, and I can’t fit into my favorite pajamas.” The hysterical sobbing was muffled by the bar and it made Jimin giggle behind his hand. He walked around to give you a hug and Jin presented you with an ice cream sundae in an effort to cheer you up.

“Dance with me, pretty lady,” Yoongi said, finishing his drink and taking your hand. He led you to the dance floor where you were slow dancing like you used to. “You are still as pretty as always. Okay, you may not feel beautiful right now due to all those things, but I promise that you are.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You tried to get close enough to hug Yoongi but your belly prevented you from doing so, he stepped behind you and wrapped his arms around you slipping his hands under your belly and swaying. He was trying to take some of the weight to relieve some pressure on your back. “You are amazing,”

“I am, aren't I.” He laughed, swaying you softly.

Tags: @brbkpop @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @munchyn @unadulteratedlyunique @jinhitwhore @knjkitten @jooniesdimples70307 @the-snowbear25 @kb-bangtanenthusiast @moments-of-melancholy @levantelux @theadorkablezaza @crustycaitlin @verasays @usagiserenity530 @carmxx (Please remember to have your tag settings on so you can recieve notifications about updates)

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years

Text

Tropetember Day 4 - Rockstar / Actor / Model / Famous AU

The future is unwritten

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: General Audiences

TW: Drinking/alcohol

AN: Day 4 of @tropetember. This has potential to be the start of a short series. Would anyone be interested in this playing out? (first date, meeting Jack, properly meeting the team, media finding out etc etc)

Life as an famous author can be lonely, but maybe a handsome stranger can turn your day around.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.5k

Staring into a glass of whisky never solved any problems, but at least it passed the time.

When you’d started writing your first book, you never could have imagined how exhausting a promotional tour was. You very rarely had time to yourself, spent weeks at a time on the road and constantly had to be on your best behaviour. Not that you were exactly badly behaved but anything more than a glass of wine or two with dinner had your publicist cutting you off to “protect you image”. No matter how many times you assured her that your audience of young adults would likely not be surprised by an author having a couple of drinks at the bar, until the end of the tour, you were cut off.

You really missed having total control of your life.

And so, like a teenager sneaking out past curfew, you had waited for Denise to go back to her room to bed, before slipping out of your hotel room and down to the bar.

When booking your hotel, the publishing company had been all set to book you into opulent rooms around the country but you had convinced them that that would make you easier to find. Instead, you were booked in a nice hotel with good facilities, the sort of place businessmen would be happy to stay and meet clients for a drink downstairs. Lots of dark wood and leather chairs and large glass windows.

You’d stationed yourself on a comfy stool at the end of the bar, taking advantage of the window to watch the rainy New York street outside. It also allowed you a convenient view of the lobby. The good people watching spot allowed you to notice when a group of well dressed, if slightly rumpled, people wandering in, exhaustion pulling at their features.

One of the men, a tall handsome individual with dark hair and a stern expression, broke off from the group after a quick discussion and headed in your direction. He quickly gained the attention of the server and ran off his order - lots of alcohol and one coffee - before propping himself against the bar next to you.

You took a moment to study him. Up close, you could see the laughter lines in his face and warmth of his chocolate brown eyes. You also clocked the gun on his hip under the very nice suit jacket he was wearing.

“I can hear you thinking” he says, the smooth deep baritone jolting you from you staring. Rather than being ashamed you just smile. Who are you to turn down a chance to chat with a good-looking stranger? It's nice to act like a normal person for a change.

“That coffee you ordered is definitely for you then” you state. That surprises a laugh out of him. It’s a rich, warm sound and you savour it. He doesn’t look like a man who laughs often.

“You would be correct,” he agrees. ”Do you often spend your time staring at strangers?”

You smile at that and concede “only the handsome ones”.

The tips of his ears redden slightly but he manages to control the rest of his micro expressions. In the meantime, you sip at your whiskey.

Desperate to continue the conversation, you observe "I'd normally ask if you were on a trip for business or leisure but I think we've covered that."

He hums in agreement, taking your invitation to continue. "How about you?"

You wave the whisky glass at him. “The trip is for business, this however, is for pleasure.” You give him a cheeky grin and then sigh. “I’m just looking forward to being back home in DC next week. I hate being this close and yet not able to sleep in my own bed.”

“I’m the same. DC seems to be one of those places everyone complains about living there when they’re there, but loves when they can’t make it.”

Working under your assumption that he’s FBI, you presume he must work out of Quantico. What a stroke of luck chatting to someone who won’t be far away when you return home? You take a moment to assess your options and take a leap of faith. He doesn’t seem to know who you are and you’re enjoying the attention.

“Anyone waiting for you back home?”

He smirks at your extremely unsubtle comment, before allowing “just my little boy. He stays with his Aunt when I’m gone.”

Sadly, the bartender has managed to finally round up all of the drinks for his team. He pays quickly and then gives you a contemplative look. He seems to decide you're not a creep or serial killer or whatever else, and reaches into his pocket, withdrawing his card.

“If you’re around tomorrow and want to get a drink? Work permitting obviously.”

You feel a smile break out on your face.

“I’d love to.” You pocket the card before reaching out your hand. ”I’m Y/N.”

“Aaron” he responds with a quick grin, taking your hand and shaking firmly. “Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good evening. Don’t work too hard.”

And with that, he collects his drinks tray which is fully loaded and heads back to his group. You catch a couple of surprised expressions out of the corner of your eye and, as you stand up to head back up to your room, you notice the older gentleman pat him on the back before they all settle into looking through files.

Huh, apparently picking up strangers in bars was a rare occurrence for him. You wouldn't have guessed. He seemed pretty in practice from how he was talking to you.

Now, best sneak back upstairs and get some sleep.

------

It was nearly 3pm, meaning you only had an hour left of book signing. Sadly there had been some sort of arrest made across the street though which had put a bit of a damper on the event, reducing the amount of foot traffic into the store.

From your vantage point, you could see FBI and police personnel wandering around and looking busy and had been reduced to people watching to pass the time. You were startled out of your daze by a familiar voice.

"When our tech analyst demanded I stop by to get a copy of your book autographed for her, I had assumed the name was a coincidence."

You cringe. Oops. Busted.

"Hi Aaron," you say meekly. It's only as you glance up that you see he's smiling that you relax a little.

"Aren't you supposed to be outside tidying up your mess?" You question, taking the book off him with one hand and waving your other at the street.

"I've done most of my work for now. As we're consulting, we are not responsible for tidying up."

You hum in acknowledgement before asking who the book is for and signing the copy with a personalised message. You've never been one to just sign and hand back. These people are supporting you, it's the least you can do.

"No drink tonight then? I assume you'll be back to DC?"

"Sadly."

You both glance at each other, trying to gauge what to do next. You're grateful he takes the plunge.

"We could do something when you're back in DC? I can be pretty busy with work and Jack, my son, is my priority but I can try to fit something in? If you want?"

It's an interesting thing, seeing a calm and confident man like Aaron turn into a rambling mess. You take it as a compliment.

"Of course. I understand having a busy life. One of the benefits to being a writer is setting my own schedule.” You glance around the shop. “When I'm not doing promotion obviously. We can make something work."

You're rewarded with a grin and it makes your heart flutter.

"The main question is, are you sure you want to? I'm not, like, mega famous, but it can be a lot sometimes."

He doesn't even stop to think before he answers.

"I'd regret it if I didn't. And if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. We take a step back. At the very least, I'd like to get know you"

That sentence settles your nerves. You're sure you look like a maniac with the smile that's currently plastered across your phase.

"Can I call you tonight? Since I can't make drinks?"

You nod, but notice there are a few people waiting to meet you. Sigh, best wrap it up for now.

"Of course, I'll text you and we can sort out a time."

He nods, also noticing your fans and, before he can lose his nerve, leans down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You say your goodbyes and he heads back outside with book in hand, apparently impervious to the whispers.

And if your publicist comments that you don't stop smiling for the rest of the day? That's not really any of her business, is it?

#tropetember #fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #meet cute #famous AU #Author AU #criminal minds

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sassyhobbits · 3 years

Note

hi julia 💙 tinder au? i have just fallen in love with it

ok yall. here it is. the highly requested and long awaited tinder au. i probably have like 20 messages on my inbox rn asking for this.

anyway, here's day 3 for yall!! enjoy!!

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was the mastermind behind his own misery.

He had been kicking himself for his stupidity for the past week, ever since that godsdamned wedding he had gone to with Aelin. The event had confirmed his suspicions: he liked Aelin Galathynius. A lot.

And it was his own fault that he hadn’t asked her out.

He had been the one to say that they should remain coworkers and nothing more. He had just been so shocked to see the woman he had matched with on Tinder at his place of employment he hadn’t really known what to do. So, he said something foolish.

For a while now, Rowan’s attraction towards Aelin had been growing. It had been easy to ignore at first, brushing it off and contributing it to the fact that she was a pretty woman. But, even in those months where Aelin had enraged him, she still managed to enthrall him. He thought about her smile far too often. About the dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the sound of her laugh, the smell of her perfume. Mostly, he thought about the dances that they had shared at that wedding. A small taste of what could have been if Rowan hadn’t been such a rutting idiot.

If he could take back that foolish decision, he would.

Now, his choice haunted him everyday. He would watch Aelin at work, see other men and women give her appreciative looks and flirty smiles, leaving Rowan in a constant state of morbid anticipation, waiting for the day she reciprocated some of that attention and he would be left behind.

Rowan lingered by the personal training desk, knowing he should be planning the workouts for his clients for the week, but his attention was pinned across the gym. Aelin was working today with a new client that he had never seen. He was in his mid-twenties, tall, blonde. Good looking, and obviously very smitten with his trainer. Rowan ground his jaw as the man sent a charming smile to Aelin. He wished her back wasn’t turned towards him so he could have seen how she responded.

“Keep on clenching your jaw like that and you’re going to break a tooth,” a feminine voice said teasingly.

Rowan tore his gaze away from Aelin, finding Lysandra leaning against the desk, ivory cheeks flushed pink from her own workout.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lysandra scoffed and rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. “You may be fooling yourself, Rowan Whitethorn, but you’re sure as hell not fooling me.”

Rowan pressed his lips together tightly, looking back at his clipboard and trying to ignore the woman beside him. However, that wasn’t suitable for Lysandra.

“If you ask her out she’ll say yes,” she said casually.

Rowan scoffed. “She seems perfectly happy with that pretty-boy over there.”

“She’s settling for that pretty boy over there because you aren’t giving her the attention she deserves.”

Rowan sighed and looked back at the woman beside him dryly. Her dark brows were narrowed, lips pinched in annoyance. It was clear she wasn’t happy with him.

“Listen, Rowan,” she continued, “I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I will tell you that if you don’t get your shit together and finally ask Aelin out, she’s going to move on. And you’re going to make yourself extra miserable.”

Rowan didn’t have a response for that, simply holding Lysandra’s gaze more a moment longer before she stomped away towards the locker rooms, leaving him alone at the desk.

Deep down, he knew that she was right. Just watching Aelin conversing and mildly flirting with another man was driving him crazy. He didn’t know how he’d feel if she actually returned one of her many admirers' sentiments. Pissed off, most likely, that he had missed his chance. And that he had no one to blame but himself.

That was likely the thing that had been holding him back for so long. Admitting that he had been wrong. Gods, there was nothing worse. Absolutely nothing.

Rowan didn’t want to admit that he was biding his time, but he was. Waiting for Aelin to be finished with her client so that he could make his move. And potentially suffer a thorough tongue-lashing from the object of his desire. He couldn’t imagine that she would find it amusing that he was coming crawling back after being the one to request the space between them in the first place.

After what felt like an eternity, Aelin and her client finally made their way off the gym floor. They stood not too far away from him, but with the music and the sound of others chatting, he couldn’t really hear what they were saying. He pretended he didn’t notice them, anyway.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes, the man sending Aelin one last flirty smile until he swaggered off in the direction of the locker rooms.

Luckily for him, Rowan didn’t even have to muster up the courage to go up to Aelin. She instead came over to him, leaning over the desk and grabbing her own clipboard. What pissed him off was that she barely even seemed to notice him.

“Hey,” she breathed casually, jotting something down.

“Hello, Galathynius.” Good gods, why did he sound so stiff?

He waited a few more heartbeats, hoping that she would strike up a conversation, but she was terribly focused on whatever it was that she was writing.

Rowan quickly grew tired of waiting.

“Are you going out with that guy?”

Aelin’s pen froze mid stroke, and Rowan’s instincts told him that he had said something wrong, and danger was lurking near. She looked up to him, a wicked tilt to her golden head.

“Would it be a problem if I was?” she drawled.

Rowan ground his jaw, refusing to back down at the fire in her eyes. “Don’t go out with him.”

Aelin blinked once before scoffing. She tossed her clipboard to the side, spreading in legs in what Rowan could only describe as a fighting stance and crossing her arms over her chest. “You cannot be serious right now.”

Rowan stood straighter. “I’m completely serious. Don’t go out with him.”

“You must be smoking something if you think you have any say over who I do or do not go out with.” She pointed a well-manicured finger at him. “Let me remind you that you were the one who said we should just be coworkers.”

“Believe me, I remember.”

“Then what changed your mind so suddenly? Huh?”

“You did, Aelin.”

For once, it didn’t seem that Aelin had a snappy response up her sleeve for this one. Rowan seized the rare moment of silence, taking a deep breath to steel himself before moving closer and continuing.

“Aelin… I really like you,” he began. “I have since we met. Before that, even. I had been so excited to meet you in person after talking that night and then you were here and you were my coworker and I… I reacted stupidly.”

Aelin’s lips were pressed together tightly, a sign that she wouldn’t interrupt until he said what he had to say.

“I was afraid of what might happen if something went wrong,” Rowan admitted. “If we went out and you realized you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, and I had to see you every day at work and be reminded of that. I was a coward because I didn’t want to face that particular torture. But… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And I know that if I never admitted it, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

There were a few moments of painful silence as Aelin considered his words.

“So, what?” Aelin said. “You just expect me to jump into your arms now that you decided you were finally ready to grow a pair and ask me out? You think I was just going to wait for you?”

“No. I know you’d never wait for a man. I know that you’re strong and independent. I’d never expect that from you but…” Rowan reached out slowly, taking her hand into his and giving her fingers a firm squeeze. “I hope that you’ll be able to forgive my stupidity and let me take you out on a real date soon.”

For a few, too long heartbeats, Aelin stared down at where he held her hand. Rowan had never felt more nervous than he had in that moment. It was maddening.

But, she eventually tilted her head up, and her face had softened, a smile on those full lips of hers. She gave his hand a squeeze.

“Gods, I thought you would never ask.”

It was Rowan’s turn to smile, beaming at the woman before him. “So, that’s a yes?”

She nodded once. “It is. You can pick me up at eight tonight. I expect something nice, I want to dress up.”

“I look forward to it.”

Aelin laughed, a beautiful sound, before she closed the distance between them and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek, thoroughly stunning him as she slipped away, smiling at him the entire time.

“And don’t forget the flowers,” she called, striding across the gym. “Kingsflame are my favorite.”

“Noted.”

Aelin held his gaze for another wonderful moment before she turned, striding over to meet with a woman he recognized as one of her regular clients. Once he was sure she was no longer watching, he brushed his fingers over the spot where she had kissed him which still burned pleasantly.

He would make sure everything went perfectly tonight. There was no way in hell that he would mess it up and ruin his chance with this amazing woman. Aelin was unlike anyone he had ever met before.

He knew one thing for sure. Aelin Galathynius was the one for him.

#rowaelin #my writing #tinder au #tog

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httpjeon · 4 years

Text

MINE FOR TODAY — KSJ (M.)

synopsis. as part of a special valentines day sale, you make a bid in hopes to get a special discounted date with one of the dreamy bachelors of club ardor. you decide to choose The Romantic.

pairing. seokjin/reader genre. angst, fluff, smut au. fake dating!au, date-for-hire!au wordcount. 6,171 contents. sad!seokjin, lonely!seokjin, light pining, teasing, protected sex, breast play, fingering, size kink (?), scratching, overstimulation, doggy style, pet names, light aftercare note. seokjins was by far the hardest to write. i have such a difficult time writing him ): i apologize, i did my best for him!

— club ardor masterlist.

Your phone let out a startling ding, making you jump as you hadn't realized you'd forgotten to silence it. Taking a look around your cubicle, you made sure no one had noticed before you pulled it out and went to put in do not disturb mode. Before you did, however, the preview notification caught your attention.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

As you were about to unlock your phone to take a look, you heard the light clicks of your boss's heels coming towards you. You quickly slid your phone back into your drawer and turned your attention to your screen, feigning reading something.

Her footsteps paused outside of your cubicle before she called your name. You spun around in your chair to meet her gaze curiously.

"I really need those expense reports within the next hour, can you do that?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," you nodded, turning around once again to face your desk, "I'm actually almost done, I can probably have them on your desk in 30 minutes."

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you."

You returned her smile and let out a sigh once you heard her footsteps disappear. Shaking your head, you let yourself become absorbed in your work once again -- forgetting about that email you'd received.

You caught a taxi to head home, not feeling like walking even though your apartment was only 5 minutes away. Your feet were aching and you just desperately wanted to take a shower and eat dinner as you'd accidentally missed your lunch break by working through it.

It wasn't the first time you'd considered yourself a bit too much of a workaholic.

It was nearing 11PM by the time you finally were able to settle down on the couch. Your hair was freshly washed and you were wrapped in a soft bathrobe with a nice face mask.

Reclining as the TV played in the background, you unlocked your phone to check after spending most of the day without. You responded to texts and checked your social media before suddenly remembered the email you had received earlier.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

It sat at the top of your emails and when you opened it, you were greeted with an image similar to a party invite. In pretty, cursive font it was written; "Once in a lifetime chance to meet the man of your dreams!"

There was a link beneath it that you clicked, causing it to open a new Safari page. The search bar indicated it had taken you to clubardor.com. It wasn't the first time you'd been on the website.

You heard of it's grand opening half a year ago and went to check it out. Unfortunately, you discovered that even the most basic package was 2 grand for 12 hours. The deluxe had a price that nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.

In the end, you just signed up for newsletters and things to be sent by email.

It seemed it paid off, as you found yourself on a page detailing a Valentine's special.

For the entire month of February, they were hosting a giveaway. According to each Date's schedule, a lucky woman would be chosen from a lottery to get a date with them for just $500 instead of $2,000. The insane discount had your jaw dropping.

You weren't embarrassed to admit that you were curious about the date-for-hire service. Biting your lip, you decided to throw your hat into the ring and place a bid on the special.

"Full money-back guarantee if you're not chosen!" was written in bold letters above the credit card input.

You had no worry about being scammed, Club Ardor had risen to the top in terms of dating services in the country -- after just 6 months of activity and just 7 bachelors available. They had an excellent reputation and were known for having an extremely high-class clientele.

With your lip caught between your teeth, an excited smile on your face, you put your payment information in and hit 'Enter'.

"Thank you for your bid! Please keep an eye on your email within the next week to determine if you've been chosen! Your lottery number is 1-241-994."

You opened up your note app and typed down the number on a blank note for safe keeping.

Returning to the website, you began to do some digging into each of the men available to hire. While their pictures weren't viewable -- for safety reasons, you supposed, there was plenty of information about them.

"Each Date has full control over creating his own scene. Location, dynamic, and length of time will vary. Please speak to your Date for more information on his plans to be sure you have allotted the correct time-frame. Abide by rules and limits he sets."

You flicked through the profiles of each man, eying their listed physical and emotional qualities.

That night, you went to sleep with excitement stirring in your heart.

Somehow, you managed to work through a couple days and ended up forgetting about even signing up for it. You were working so hard to get a promotion so you could escape the shitty cubicle that somehow spending $500 completely slipped your mind.

At least, that was until you were eating a bowl of cereal at nearly 3 in the morning on a Friday night -- 6 days after you had signed up, and your phone pinged with the alert of an email. Holding the spoon in your mouth, you picked up the device and unlocked it without even looking at the notification.

You went to your email and paused when you saw the email was from Club Ardor.

With shaking fingers, you opened it.

"Below are the applicants who filed for the lottery that won. If you do not see your number, expect a monetary refund within the next 24 hours."

You clicked out and went to your note app to check the number you had gotten. Refreshing your memory, you returned to the email and scanned down the list. There were a lot of numbers listed, you quickly realized. But by some miracle, you spotted your own number listed there in the middle.

"If your number is listed, please check your email for further instructions."

You backed out of the email and refreshed, sitting up straight when you realized you had a new one from Club Ardor.

"Congratulations on winning a special night, please follow this link to register for a date with the man of your choice!"

Clicking the bright red hyperlink, you watched the screen load for several seconds and go from white to black.

You flicked through all seven of the men passing the boyfriend, the romantic, the quiet one, the playboy, the softy, the bad boy, and the alpha male. It was easy to rule out the playboy, bad boy, and alpha male -- deeming them a little too hard of scenes than what you would be able to handle.

After a bit of deliberating, you decided on the romantic. He seemed to be the oldest at 26 years old and from the silhouette of his picture, you could see he had a very nice build with hide shoulders and pretty, thin waist. You assumed he would be closer to your type and you did enjoy romance so with a couple of clicks, you were registered for a date with him.

You were brought to another page which held instructions for downloading an application called Club Ardor along with a code it told you to input.

You did as you were instructed, highly impressed with the company's extensive work on the hiring process. It was very obvious to you that Club Ardor was, in fact, suited for those of high class. The service held an obviously high regard for discretion and safety for both its bachelors and clients.

Once the app was downloaded, you opened it and found a box to enter the code you'd been given.

You were then brought to a page to input information such as your name, age, height, likes, dislikes, and preferences. After entering it all, you were brought to an empty text message thread.

Before you could attempt to look around, your phone let out a jingle and a new text message popped up.

From: Seokjin Hi cutie! Our date is set for tomorrow night. Meet me at the Club Ardor building at 7PM sharp. Wear something nice and pretty, but comfortable. Can't wait to see you!

You read the text several times, surprised by the quick work he made before typing out a response letting him know you understood. The final thing he texted was a an address to the building you would meet him at.

Thankfully, your job has required you to dress nicely for business dinners in the past so you had a decent amount of things to wear. You decided on just a flowing dress that was breathable but complimented your figure. Placing it in the front of your closet for easy access, you went through your nightly routine and got into bed.

You worked through the day, it was a Friday so you compiled the information of the entire week and input it into the data system. It kept you busy and the hours passed by quickly.

You got off at 5, having made sure you finished everything as quickly as possible so you wouldn't have to work over time.

"You're in a rush today, _____," your boss smiled as she met you in the elevator, carrying a couple files.

"I um...I have a date tonight," you confessed sheepishly, face flushing when she gasped.

"Congratulations, I hope you have a wonderful time," she said, patting you on the back, "Stay safe, I'll see you on Monday."

The elevator opened to the 3rd floor and she got off, shooting you a little wave before the doors closed again. You were dropped off at the lobby and you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, bidding a goodbye to the receptionist as you exited your building.

Grabbing a taxi, you made your way home.

As soon as you stepped out of the shower, you heard your phone go off from your bedroom. The notification bell for the Club Ardor app was extremely hard to miss.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you wandered into your bedroom and picked the device up.

From: Seokjin [5:45PM] Super excited, cutie! Can't wait to see you!

You smiled, typing out your response immediately, "Me either! See you soon!".

You were ready earlier than you would have liked. There were still 20 minutes until you could leave and be at Club Ardor on time. You didn't want to be too early or too late.

Timing it just right, you grabbed your purse and slipped your phone into the side pocket before slipping your heels on. The Uber you called pulled up right on time as you exited the lobby of your apartment complex.

Exchanging pleasantries, you crawled into the back seat and let out a nervous breath. Of course it wasn't until you were literally on your way that the nerves would kick in.

Club Ardor came into view at precisely 6:58PM.

The building was a huge high rise building with several floors. Club Ardor was a brightly lit neon sign atop the building. The Uber pulled up to the front curb and you stepped out, checking the time to see it was 6:59PM.

As the Uber sped away, you stepped up to the door, unsure of what to do. Deciding that you should probably let him know you were there, but as you unlocked your phone, the lobby door opened and a man stepped out.

He was dressed in a tux with a bowtie and he looked around for a second before his eyes landed on you.

"_____?" he smiled, walking up to you with his hand out, "It's nice to meet you, I'm Seokjin."

"Hi, Seokjin," you greeted, noting how big his hand was in yours before he pulled away.

"My cars in the garage," he jerked his head in the direction around the building, "Do you want to come or I can pull up."

"I'll...wait here," you said, making him laugh before nodding his head.

"I get it," he waved it off and began to jog around the building.

You could hear the rev of a car engine echo from the garage before a sleek white car came into view. Seokjin got out and jogged around the car to open the door for you.

You thanked him with a soft smile before getting in, pulling the seat belt on as he slammed the door shut.

Once in an enclosed space with him, you were immediately aware of how good he smelled. An almost sweet, fruity perfume wafted off of him and if you looked closely you could see he had a lip tint on.

"So, what's the plan?" you asked, breaking the silence that had settled.

"A romantic date on the water for two," he sighed, almost dreamily.

It couldn't help but laugh, which in turn brought a bright smile onto his face. The atmosphere became increasingly less tense as Seokjin drove to somewhere unknown.

"I'm so hungry," he complained from the driver's seat, making a turn onto a less populated road, "The food is honestly to die for."

"Whoa, what is this place?" you asked, not fully hearing his comment as you watched him pull up at a parking lot near a huge lake.

"This is where our date is, silly!" he grinned, getting out of the car and rounding to open your door for you.

He took your hand, escorting you towards a pier where there was a large boat bobbing with the waters natural movement.

"Hop aboard, lovely," he kept h is hold on your hand as you got onto the boat. He followed you and tugged your hand to get you to follow him.

Your body wavered as the boat suddenly took off but Seokjin was there to steady you with a broad grin.

"Have a seat," he motioned to a small table with two chairs across from one another.

"So," you huffed a laugh as you took a seat, "When you said...dinner on the water."

"I meant it literally," he shrugged, reaching over to click a button and several strings of white fairy lights illuminated everything around you.

"Whoa," you gasped, looking around.

You could see the lights from the buildings on shore and there was a beautiful cast of the moon shining over the water. It was beautiful and as you turned your gaze back to Seokjin, you were surprised to find him leaning his chin on his hand as he watched you.

"Your eyes are sparkling," he said, an almost serene smile on his lips.

In more proper light, you could make out his features more. He had wide shoulders, pretty, plump lips and flawless skin. His eyes were sparkling as well, the dark irises looking like stars were shining within them.

"Would you like to start eating?" he asked, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. His skin was soft and warm and it made you smile as you nodded.

Dinner was a blur, he had a few dishes available to choose from since he didn't know exactly what you would like. You chose the steak, which seemed to make Seokjin quite happy as he ordered the same thing.

You could see where his romantic title came from as he reached across the table to feed you a couple bites every once in a while. Once the main course was over, the two of you shared a strawberry cheesecake slice after he lit the candle at the end of the table.

You had a good laugh when he failed to light it a few times because the breeze kept blowing it out.

"Now, the next portion of our date I'll admit...it's a little lame," he confessed sheepishly as he walked you back to the car.

"Oh?" you climbed into the seat after he opened the door for you.

"We're going to head back to Club Ardor, drink, and watch movies," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

"It's not lame," you giggled, resting your head back on the seat, "I think it's a great way to unwind."

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said, sounding relieved.

When you finally pulled back up to Club Ardor, Seokjin was blasting music and singing obnoxiously to it. You had your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing too much. Every once in a while, he'd take a look at you and end up laughing midway through his singing.

He pulled into the garage and pulled into a parking spot that had his name on a sign in front of it.

There was a door that he had to scan a card to unlock which led into what appeared to be a lounge room. He didn't waste any time in clicking the button to call the elevator.

Seokjin was comfortable. He had such a calm, relaxing demeanor that it put you at ease.

The two of you sat on the couch and clinked your glasses together before you both downed the shot he had poured. You cringed as it burned going down your throat, leaving a horrible taste in your mouth.

A bit of a lightweight, it didn't take much to get you tipsy and soon you were both losing it over some horrible movie he had accidentally picked.

"I swear it looked good in the previews!" he argued through laughter when you teased him about his choice.

"I'm picking the next one, you've lost movie-picking privileges!" you laughed, stealing the remote from his hands, making him gasp in shock.

He immediately began to try and get it back from you, his body pressed against yours. His perfume once again and it made your eyes flutter.

Pressed against the arm of the couch with Seokjin's body dangerously close to yours, you both paused. He met your eyes, seemingly searching for something in your gaze. As you searched his, you couldn't deny how...sad they looked.

Your breath began to quicken when his face slowly got closer to yours. You could feel his breath against your lips but before they could meet, he was pulling away. He took the remote with him and took his seat beside you once again, leaving you pressing your hand to your chest as your heart raced almost painfully.

There was a terrifyingly loud alarm that rang throughout the room, making you jolt awake.

Looking at the clock, you were disgruntled to see that it was 7 in the morning. Sitting up, you realized you were in bed when you were positive you fell asleep with Seokjin on the couch.

"Hey," he said, making you jump as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, "It's 7am."

"I see that," you mumbled, sliding out of bed, still sleepy.

"Our 12 hours are up."

And just like that it was over.

However, Seokjin didn't leave your mind after that though. Even when you stepped into your apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Especially how you almost kissed.

You were, of course, aware that Club Ardor dates would occasionally participate in physical intimacy. You hadn't expected it to happen to though. You could still remember the way his scent wafted around you and how close his lips were to yours or that sad look in his eyes.

A week passed by quickly and painlessly. You fell back into a rhythm with work, giving vague replies to your boss when she asked about how it went.

Somehow, Seokjin kept slipping into your mind. You couldn't shake him.

A measly 12 hours with a man you had only just met, and he seemed to have invaded your very subconscious.

That day, after work, you decided to take a detour to a local bar. It wasn't a very big, popular bar but the people in your neighborhood frequented it quite often. The atmosphere was buzzing inside and you made to take a seat at the bar but paused when you spotted a figure you recognized. You blinked several times, making sure you weren't hallucinating him.

"Seokjin?" you asked, making him jump.

His head snapped over to look at you, his eyes wide. He took you in for a second before his face morphed into confusion.

"What're you doing here? How'd you know I was here?" he sounded defensive and it made you frown, shaking your head.

"I live in the apartment complex down the street, I stopped here after work for a nice Friday drink," you motioned to your work attire and he seemed to relax. Part of you was offended that he thought you were some kind of stalker but you supposed in his line of work, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

He was drinking a beer slowly, seemingly lost in his own little world as he turned away from you. You got the hint, and went to walk away from him but you stopped when he called your name.

"Um...why don't you sit with me?" he asked, motioning to the empty stool beside him.

You were relieved he asked you to join him because that's all you wanted. You took the seat and he ordered you a drink, for which you thanked him. Being in his presence again felt nice and you already began to relax.

It seemed Seokjin had been drinking there for a while. His face was a little red and he was openly giggly and friendly -- a complete difference than what he was when you first sat him sitting there.

Time flew by with him but eventually you realized it had gotten dark outside and you'd stayed far longer than you had intended.

"I really need to be going," you sighed, the words painful as they slipped out of your mouth. You didn't want to leave him, you'd thought about him so long.

"Wait!" he cried, grabbing a hold of your blouse sleeve, effectively halting you.

"What is it?" you asked, alarmed by the saddened look on his face.

"I...Can't you stay?" he asked, voice soft.

"I...I really need to get home...I've got some reports to go over for work..." you explained, wincing when you watched him visibly deflate, "You...you can come over, if you want?"

"Really?" he looked hopeful again as he hopped off the stool.

He wobbled a bit and you laughed, reaching out to steady him even though you were a little tipsy yourself.

The two of you walked outside, the cool night air hitting your heated skin and making you shiver.

"I really...I'm not supposed to go home with clients..." he mumbled, as if talking to himself, "But I guess you're not technically a client anymore, right?"

You chuckled, cheeks burning when he pulled you close against him, "I guess I'm not."

"Yeah, so it's fine!" he chuckled.

Once the two of you stepped into your apartment, things seemed to shift. He took a seat on the couch and relaxed.

It gave you a moment to take him in; he wore jeans and a t-shirt, looking even better in casual clothes than he did in formal wear.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" you asked suddenly, unable to hold back your smile when he visibly perked up, "I'll make you some."

You disappeared into the kitchen, letting out a deep breath as you realized your heart was racing. Seokjin seemed to have the effect. He didn't even do anything and he had you flustered.

You heated up some milk in the microwave, not wanting to bother with stove top. Pouring the powder into the cup you stood and waited for the milk to be done.

Before it could finish, you felt a presence behind you that had you jumping out of your skin. Turning around, you were face to face with Seokjin's incredible visage. His brown eyes were wide, almost curious and a smile lingered on his pretty lips.

You subconsciously licked your own lips and you swear your saw his own eyes drop to your lips. The energy was tense between the two of you and his perfume was permeating off of him once again. Seokjin opened his mouth to say something but before he could the microwave beeped.

The spell was broken and he backed off, wandering back into the kitchen as you began to mix the powder and milk in the cup.

You took a seat beside him, handing him the cup before turning the TV on. The two of you relaxed, you pulled your throw blanket over you shoulders as Seokjin sipped on his hot chocolate.

As you watched him, you couldn't help but find him cute.

"Hey Seokjin?" you asked, earning a hum from him, "How come you work at Club Ardor?"

"Why do you ask that?" he questioned, frowning as he sat up straighter.

You followed suit, shrugging your shoulders, "I mean surely being a date-for-hire wasn't the job you dreamed of," your words brought a smile to his face and he let out a soft chuckle, "Plus, you're crazy good looking, funny, and charming...I'd expect someone like you to be a model or something."

"Well...thanks..." he smiled, cheeks a little red, "To tell you the truth...I've dated quite a bit but..." he seemed to deflate as he spoke, "It never worked out, they all just wanted me for my money and looks."

"How shallow..." you sighed, shaking your head in dismay.

"Eventually, I just decided to stop trying but...if I'm honest I get so lonely," his confession made you frown, "But I just...don't want to be open to anyone so...this job makes me feel loved, even if it's fake."

"You won't even try to find a girlfriend again or something?" you asked, pained at the idea of him just giving up.

He shook his head, "No one ever wants me for me. Do you think I haven't tried my hardest? It never works, I'm sick of feeling left like I'm worth less than I am."

"Seokjin..." you muttered, reaching over to place your hand over his that was curled up in a fist on his knee, "You...deserve to have someone genuinely love you. It seems impossible but...it can't be like this forever. Someone will come along that will see you for you but you can't just...shut down. You should keep trying," you squeezed his hand, feeling it relax from the fist, "Maybe you've been dating the wrong women!"

"You're right," he mumbled, surprising you, "I think someone more like you is my type."

It took a second for those words to sink in,"Wha--" you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh, "Don't tease me like that!"

"No, I really mean it, _____," he whispered, meeting your gaze. It held such conviction and sincerity that you felt your heart speed up, "I think you're beautiful and you're so sincere. When we had our date," he paused after saying the word before sighing, "I had never wanted to kiss or touch someone more than I wanted to with you. You are absolutely captivating and you don't even know it."

He shifted on the couch, turning to face his body towards you. Your proximity was closer than you expected once he faced you, if you leaned in just a bit more your noses would touch.

The tension between you rose, something hot building that neither of you could deny.

Then, his lips were on yours -- soft and warm with the taste of hot chocolate lingering on them. It wasn't even a thought to hesitate, you were immediately returning the kiss.

It became more heated as the seconds ticked by. You found yourself pinned to the couch with him above you, never breaking the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Whimpering, you felt a shiver go down your spine when he softly nipped at your bottom lip.

When you pulled away, there was a minuscule thread of saliva connecting your lips. Once you met his heated gaze, you both knew what the other wanted.

The walk to the bedroom was a blur of shared kisses and wandering hands pushing clothes off. By the time you were pinned to the bed, you were both naked.

Seokjin's pretty, plump lips found purchase on your neck, making you shiver as his breath fanned over the sensitive skin. Kisses trailed down to your chest, over your collarbones and sternum before reaching the gentle swell of your breasts.

Your chest rose as you inhaled sharply at the feeling of his warm lips enveloping a perked nipple. His fingers caressed your skin so delicately you could almost miss it completely

His digits dipped between your thighs to find your folds already wet. He groaned, lightly grazing his teeth against your nipple before looking up at you through his lashes.

“All this because of some kissing?” he teased, making your cheeks burn.

He huffed a laugh and moved to take your other nipple into his mouth. At that same moment, his fingers parted your folds and found your clit. You gasped, spreading your legs further for his access.

His digits were skilled and graceful, circling your clit to make you whimper before dipping into your entrance. His fingers were long and found your sweet spot quickly, chuckling when your hips twitched upwards at the stimulation.

He sat up, pulling away from you as he sat back on his heels. His fingers were still inside you and he eagerly watched the way your entrance stretched to accommodate his two — three fingers.

Your eyes fluttered, rolling back in your head as he fucked you with his fingers. As a result, you missed him wrapping his left hand around his own cock, biting his lip as he finally got the stimulant he needed.

Precum dripped down his shaft and he eagerly used it to lubricate his movements. He scissored his fingers inside you, making sure you were stretched enough to take him.

When he pulled out, you whined at how empty you felt.

“Have you got a condom?” he breathed, tightening his fist around his cock when you reached into your bedside drawer and pulled one out.

You settled back, spreading your legs once again. He groaned, shuffling forward to cover your body with his. Your eyes met as the tip of this cock kissed your entrance.

Both your mouths fell open as he sunk into you. Your tight walls squeezed him so wonderfully that he groaned. He stretched you open even more than his fingers had, giving you that wonderful burn you needed.

He met your lips in a sweet kiss as he angled his hips toward your sweet spot. You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to ground you as the pleasure ran rampant. He hissed, cock twitching at the sting of your nails on his back.

His pelvic bone ground against your clit every time he sunk in, edging you closer and closer to release. Seokjin could feel the way you fluttered around him and he groaned.

Sliding a hand between your bodies, he circled the bud until you arched with a cry of pleasure.

He eased you through the high, grinning when you trembled through the overstimulation. Finally, he slowed to a stop and pulled out. You whimpered, feeling your hole clench around nothing.

“Roll over,” he breathed, cupping your hip to urge you onto your front.

With your face buried in the pillow and your ass in the air, you looked like a delectable treat for him. Standing on his knees, he sunk his cock back into your cunt.

You both groaned. The angle had him hitting your spot with painful accuracy. You cried out, muffled in the fabric of the pillow, as he fucked you into even more overstimulation. Your recent orgasm had you much more sensitive and this position allowed him to abuse that.

An almost sadistic grin crossed over his face as he enjoyed the little cries and whimpers you released the harder he fucked his cock into you.

Reaching down, he tangled his hand in your hair. You gasped as he tugged until you were up on your knees as well. Your back was against his chest and you could feel him panting against your neck.

His lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, nipping at the skin there. Your walls fluttered around him and he released your hair to reach around and cup your breast.

“Fuck,” you gasped as he pinched your nipple, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“What is it, baby?” he groaned, the pet name making you flutter around him again.

“M-Make me cum, please,” you begging, making him groan once more.

He didn't say anything further, simply slid his hand down your body until he found your swollen clit. The second his fingers touched the bud, you clenched tight around him in sensitivity.

He circled the bud until you were trembling and gushing around him. You cried out his name as pleasure coursed through your body from your high. Seokjin didn't stop circling your clit and fucking his cock into your spasming walls until you were near tears.

He finally let you fall back down to the bed and began to chase his own high. He spread your ass cheeks apart, getting a good view of the way your cunt tried to suck him back in on every out stroke. The sight made him groan.

It took you deliberately squeezing tightly around him tightly for him to cum. It was sudden and knocked the air out of him. He gripped your hips tightly as he spilled into the condom, his cock twitching the entire time.

Everything was still for several seconds before he pulled out.

You rolled over to lay on your side as Seokjin got up and went into the bathroom. He came out a moment later with a wet cloth that he used to clean your thighs and folds with, laughing when you playfully smacked his shoulder from the oversensitivity.

He finally crawled into the bed, the two of you wiggling until you were comfortable.

You laid with Seokjin's chest beneath your head, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat the only thing you heard. His hand softly combed through your hair and you smiled.

"This...This is what I've been needing for so long," he whispered, "No one trying to get something out of being with me. Just a sincere...caring touch."

"This is what you deserve, Seokjin," you sitting up to look at him. His hair was messed up in an adorable way that made you smile, "You can have so much more if you just...open yourself to it again."

Seokjin's gaze turns glassy as he opened his mouth to speak, "I'm just...scared."

Your heart ached when you saw a tear trickle from his eye. Reaching up, you swiped it away, "I know but...you deserve to be loved, Seokjin."

He didn't reply, simply reaching up to pull you back down into his arms. You held him in return, running your fingertips over his skin until you felt him relax as sleep finally overcame him. Adjusting yourself more comfortably, you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

You opened your eyes to the morning sun shining into your bedroom. You licked your lips as your mouth felt dry and moved to sit up. As you did, you remembered what happened last night.

Looking beside you, you realized he wasn't in bed and the sheets were cold. Standing up, you wrapped your fuzzy robe around you and crept out of the bedroom.

"Seokjin?" you called, frowning when you received no reply.

Your heart was pounding as you made a round around the apartment to see if he left a note of anything. When you couldn't find anything, you returned to your bedroom to pick up your phone.

You froze, realizing you never actually got his phone number. You'd only communicated through the Club Ardor app.

Clicking on the icon, you waited for it to load.

Instead of being brought to your profile, you reached a page with a simple notice on it.

"Your date has filed a report, you are now blocked from using the Club Ardor service. If further contact is attempted, Club Ardor will be forced to take legal matters."

You stared at your phone for several seconds.

Everything that happened flashed through your mind -- the way he kissed you and confessed his feelings of loneliness and hurt to you. You wondered if any of it was true. Were you a game to him?

Your view of the notice on your screen became blurry as you realized you would never know.

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