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#not like I’m particularly looking to switch up my lineup but

gukyi · 4 years

Text

midas | jjk

summary: jeon jungkook was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and the power to turn whatever he wants into pure gold. you were born with healing and invisibility powers but without a cent to your name. so when you’re plucked off of the streets for pickpocketing and assigned to be his minder as punishment, you realize you’re going to have to overcome a lot more than class differences if either of you are going to get what you want.

{enemies to lovers!au, ceo!au, magical realism!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst word count: 32k (my hand slipped) warnings: alcohol consumption (brief), mentions of bruising and injuries, characters being emotionally constipated and afraid of commitment, your usual guyi e2l lineup a/n: finally!! oh god this fic took forever to write and just kept getting longer and longer. remember when i overestimated the wc by saying 25k-30k? yikes. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this monster! nothing says gukyi like a jk e2l fic, am i right?

The best time to be on the streets is just past noon on weekdays and eleven o’clock on Sunday mornings. When every working professional is out on their lunch break or weekend brunch, basking in the nice weather by choosing to fill up every outdoor dining area available to them. When they plop their bags, their purses and totes, on the chairs opposite them or onto the pavement beside them, thinking that the plastic fence that guards them will be enough to deter pickpockets and thieves.

Unluckily for them, they usually fail to consider the prospect of someone invisible swooping in to steal the bills from their wallets, a nondescript force reaching into their purse as they stare down at their phones while they eat, forkfuls of to-go salads and pasta dishes stuffed into their mouths.

Pickpocketing is a skill that the most desperate learn and the shameless master. Normally, people work in teams, one person to distract and the other to fish for the wallet, grabbing the cash and credit cards before tossing it onto the sidewalk and disappearing without a trace. If you wanted to be especially good at it, you would have to be able to complete the entire thing in less than thirty seconds, in the time it takes for people to switch trains in the subway stations.

But when you work alone, you don’t get that luxury.

But you suppose that the higher powers above, whatever they may be, are relatively benevolent, because in exchange for your prickly personality, you were blessed with the gift of being invisible.

Unfortunately, that’s something that you don’t need magic to feel.

The truth is that it’s always been easy to ignore a girl who has no family, no friends, and no money. Living isn’t the hard part, living with purpose is. Nobody wants to pay any attention to someone who has nothing, literally nothing, to offer in return. At least, nobody interesting.

The only times when you ever feel truly at peace are when you’re sleeping, and when you’re walking down the streets of the city, letting the rest of the world pass you by without sparing you a second glance. You’ve never been one desperate to stick out, to make an impression. Never been someone that people stop to do a double take at when they walk past you. Strange as it sounds, you love the feeling of being insignificant. It is, in a way, liberating.

So far today you’ve hauled eighty dollars and a subway card from the wallet of some poor tourist standing outside of a bakery looking at a map the size of Jupiter. Some people you feel particularly bad about robbing, but a bald man with dad sunglasses and a fanny pack isn’t one of them. Besides, being pickpocketed is a classic tourist experience. You’re actually doing him a favor. Something to check off of his bucket list.

You stow away the money and the card into your pocket, bills folded neatly into your raggedy jeans, rips and holes lining the fabric not for fashion, but from wear alone. You’ll make a mental note to buy yourself a croissant or something later. A treat to reward yourself for all of the hard work you’re putting in today. You’ll be able to pay off your phone bill for the next month with this money.

When the lunch breaks are over, you’ll probably retire to your bed and wallow in self-pity for a little before returning for the dinner rush. Having no life is a constant job, and you don’t even get any legally-mandated breaks to keep you going. Every moment you aren’t on the streets is another moment you aren’t making any money. It’s sort of like being a salesman, which, if you think about it, is just a legal way to rob people. When have salespeople ever sold something of real value?

With the eighty dollars on your mind, you start to scope out nice bakeries on your route, coffee shop signs and pastries on display in the window, looking for a nice place to settle down and buy yourself something sweet. Seeing as you live off of Campbell’s soups and bread from dollar stores, anything is an upgrade.

You walk a couple more blocks before stumbling upon one of those picture-perfect bakeries, with pristinely decorated cupcakes and cakes lining the window display. You can tell that this place is good because there’s a line out the door and a little seating area that is packed to the brim. However, you are currently invisible, which doesn’t accommodate purchasing goods particularly well, but you make a mental note to return to the bakery a little later when people can actually see you. As if you’d ever turn right here, in front of all of these people.

While you’re here, you decide to snoop around the line and the outdoor seating area to see if anybody strikes your fancy. Everyone standing either has their bag on their shoulder or their wallets gripped tightly between their fingers, so that’s off the table. But, there is one woman wearing a massive wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses as she chows down on a pink strawberry cupcake, her Louis Vuitton tote bag sitting a good two inches away from her, possibly even out of her periphery.

Bullseye.

There’s never a need to be stealthy when you’re already invisible, so you trot over, eyeing the woman to make sure that she can’t see anything in front of her. She doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, so you quickly reach down into her bag, a close watch on her gaze, hand fishing around amongst the receipts and the lipsticks and hand sanitizer until you feel her leather wallet. Nimble fingers fumble with the zipper until the tips come into contact with the crisp dollar bills, which you quickly nick and stuff into your pocket, bounding off without a trace.

Halfway down the block, you surreptitiously glance at your haul—two hundred dollars!

That’ll be enough to last you and your phone bill for the next three months, at least.

You’re so busy mentally applauding yourself for your pickpocketing skills that you don’t notice someone standing right in front of you. At least, you don’t notice until you crash into them, the surprise forcing you to turn.

You sputter out an apology, hoping that whoever it is you’ve nearly run over isn’t observant enough to notice that the currently-visible thing they bumped into was previously invisible, and that’s when you notice exactly who it is that you’ve collided with.

It’s the woman from the bakery, Louis Vuitton bag and everything. And she’s staring you down like there’s no tomorrow, arms crossed over her middle-aged chest as she sends daggers at you. Oh, you’re so fucked.

“Sorry?” You say unhelpfully, already knowing the direction of this conversation. This woman wouldn’t be sending you a death glare if she didn’t already know who you are. They definitely did this just to trap you, set you up like a mouse and a cheese trap.

“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” she orders. “You must already know why I’m here.”

“I was hoping you’d let me off the hook?” You say guiltily, her hand already wrapping tightly around your wrists as she handcuffs you, sharp metal pressing against your wrists. One wriggle and you know that there’s no magicking yourself out of these. They think of everything, they do.

“Tell that to the courts,” she snaps, effectively shutting you up as she drags you away, money digging a hole in your pocket as you begin to envision yourself six feet under. You’re as good as dead, caught red-handed.

Well, life was good while it lasted. At least you might never have to have Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup anymore.

There’s no such thing as an attorney in the Realm. No such thing as a fair trial (even if they say there is), no such thing as defense and prosecution. No grand juries, no crowds, no sketch artist. Just a judge with a stick up his ass and a punishment to be delivered. You’re either guilty or a liar.

And you’re rather good at being both.

“The charge is as follows,” says the burly man at the head of the makeshift courtroom, reading off of a piece of parchment like it’s 1433 and the printing press hasn’t been invented yet. “Burglary, possession of illegally-gained goods, and petty theft.” Because charging you for burglary alone wasn’t enough, apparently. You have a sneaking suspicion that they invented the other two charges just so they could have more to punish you for. “Does the defendant have anything they wish to say?”

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do with your lives?” You ask with a dramatic sigh, having already resigned yourself to your fate. “Like, you could be playing golf round after golf round instead of sitting here, charging an orphan girl with no money.”

“This is my job,” says the burly man. Clearly he has never done anything fun in his entire life.

“Also, stealing is my only crime, right? So do you really need to punish me like I’ve murdered someone?”

“You burglarized a Realm Leader,” he deadpans. As if Realm Leaders really wear wide-brimmed hats, sunglasses, and carry around a three-thousand dollar Louis Vuitton bag on their days off.

“You set me up,” you accuse. Might as well go out swinging. “What if I charge you for lying, huh? How will you be punished?”

“Anything else?”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

The burly man sighs, thinks about the potential verdict for approximately two seconds, and says, “The court finds the defendant guilty of all three charges. Sentencing will now be arranged.”

Big whoop. You could sniff out your ’guilty’ verdict from three miles away, knowing that the Realm takes plenty of pride in charging its constituents for whatever crime that they can invent. You slouch back in your chair as the judge and his heartless buddies discuss your punishment. You suppose that being jailed might not be too bad—you’d always have meals and a place to sleep, even if you would have to give up magic in return. And community service would also be alright. You’d be fine with cleaning up the expressway that runs through the city, though knowing the Realm, they’d probably put you up to some stupidly dangerous magical task. And at this point, death seems rather inviting, and would solve everybody’s problems because they wouldn’t have to deal with you and you wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.

The judge coughs, summoning the bare minimum of your attention. “The court has reached a sentencing decision for the convicted. We are offering you two options, of which you may choose one.”

Right, like you’d willingly volunteer for both punishments.

“You may either be sentenced to serve time in the Realm Penitentiary for six months with the possibility of parole after four, or conduct supervised community service until the task at hand has been completed. Please select which option you would like.”

It’s like asking you to choose between being given one hundred dollars or having to pay one hundred dollars. What does the Realm think people will pick? Do they really think anyone in their right mind would choose to be jailed, forbidden to use their magic, and then let the Realm trick them into thinking parole is really an option, over some measly community service?

“Community service,” you say gruffly.

“Excellent,” the judge says, writing something with a quill and ink because apparently, ballpoint pens are too complicated. “Your community service will be supervised by a Realm Leader with visionary powers, so you will not need to meet with them in order to discuss your progress, nor will they watch you in person.” And they said that crystal balls aren’t real.

“What do I have to do?” You ask. Knowing them, it’ll probably be something like scrubbing all of the toilets in the Penitentiary, or going deep into the Amazonian forest to collect some magical sap or fighting off a magical beast. Something that could serve as a death sentence, or at least be extremely unpleasant, in the hopes that it’ll get you off of their backs.

“The court will be assigning you as a minder to correct the ways of another mage,” the judge states.

A minder?

So, your community service is that you have to be a glorified magickal babysitter?

Well. It could be worse.

“Alright, fine,” you say, though it’s not like you have a choice one way or another. Where was your minder? Why weren’t you assigned one, instead of just being hauled off by an undercover Realm leader to be sentenced for the same crime three times over? “Who will I be assigned to?”

The judge looks down at the parchment in front of him through his tiny old man glasses, and says, “Jeon Jungkook.”

Huh?

Jeon Jungkook lives on the top floor of an apartment complex the size of the Empire State Building and worth more than your entire life. There are ceiling-to-floor windows that span the entire perimeter of the penthouse, a whole security team in the lobby vetting every single person that walks through the automatic glass doors, and an elevator with a touch-screen instead of buttons. It sickens you, the fact that some people can live like this. The fact that some people have known only this world as their entire life, and have not once glanced the other way.

Getting to Jeon Jungkook’s front door isn’t the hard part. The Realm gave you succinct instructions and permission to use your powers whenever necessary throughout the whole thing, two things more than you thought they would. It’s easy to slide by the big buff security guards when they can’t see you. Easy to turn in the comfort and privacy of the elevator, easy to figure out which door is his when he’s the only person who lives on the top floor.

The hard part is getting there without feeling like you’re way in over your head. Getting Jeon Jungkook to stop abusing his powers will be no easy feat. He’s rich, powerful, and spits on people like you, people who are not either of those things. Not to mention the fact that if he really wanted to, he could just turn you to gold and set you up in his penthouse like a statue, frozen in time.

For once, the only thing that makes you feel a little bit better is the Realm. They’ve handed you a strict order that neither you nor he can magic your way out of, lined with stipulations and regulations and requirements that both of you will follow or so help you God. If Jeon Jungkook doesn’t comply, he, his company, and his reputation are done for.

So at least there’s that.

Jeon Jungkook’s front door is made of a deep mahogany brown and about thirteen feet tall, towering over you just to serve as a reminder that he can pretty much afford to buy out the entire city if necessary. You feel like an ant in comparison, an insignificant little thing, no money, no power, no nothing.

A fluorescent doorbell light flashes beside the door frame.

The sound echoes throughout the hallway you’re standing in, a classic ding-dong noise that reverberates across the walls.

“Coming!” A voice from inside calls. Is Jungkook expecting someone?

You quickly make any last minute efforts to look as presentable as possible—well, as presentable as someone who lives in a dilapidated, abandoned house at the edge of the city can be—before the door opens.

For someone who’s got money to burn, Jeon Jungkook sure as hell doesn’t look like it. He’s wearing an oversized button down that hangs loose by his thighs, ripped jeans, and a pair of charcoal grey socks, like he got home from work five hours ago and decided to change into whatever feels most comfortable.

“Oh, good, I called and they said that you would be another twenty minutes,” Jungkook says, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Let me go grab my wallet, you can just set the pizza down on the counter.”

“Uh, I’m not—”

Jungkook rushes off down one of the fifteen different hallways that branch off of the main living room, leaving you stranded as you wander into his massive abode. Windows line the walls, giving you a perfect view of the city below you, twinkling lights of skyscrapers as people slowly leave their offices and return home. His kitchen alone is double the size of where you live. How can one person possibly take up all of this space? Doesn’t it ever get lonely?

You wait awkwardly besides the counter, which is pizza-less, until Jungkook returns, a shiny black wallet between his fingers as he fumbles for some cash. And normally, you have zero qualms stealing from the rich and giving to the poor (aka, yourself), but seeing as he thinks you’re providing a service, you have the compassion to feel at least a little bit bad.

Jungkook stops when he notices the bare countertop. “Uh,” he begins with a frown, “where’s the pizza?”

“I’m not the pizza delivery guy,” you explain hesitantly. You don’t suppose Jungkook would have opened the door otherwise.

“Then where is the pizza delivery guy?” He asks, like you somehow know.

“I don’t know,” you tell him. Was an interrogation supposed to be a part of this?

“Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, hesitant to touch anything except the floor for fear that you will either dirty or break something and then spend the rest of your life trying to pay back the damages. “I’m your minder.”

“What?” Jungkook scrunches up his nose in disgust. “I never asked for a minder.”

“Well, you’ve been assigned one anyway,” you say with a frown. To be fair, it’s not like you expected this to be easy.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jungkook dismisses, already making his way to the door to shoo you off into the night, like he probably does with all of his problems. “I don’t need a minder. I’m fine.”

You look over his shoulder, noticing the flecks of golden accents that line his house, the golden teapots on shelves, picture frames hung up on the wall. Even the rods that hold up the massive satin curtains are gold. There isn’t so much gold to be garish and kitschy, like a teenager who can’t control what he touches, but enough to assert that he’s either wealthy or gifted, or in his case: both.

“That really sucks, because I’m still your minder,” you tell him, refusing to budge. Jungkook can’t possibly imagine he’ll somehow be able to get out of this. Not when the law is working against him.

“Says who?” Jungkook spits back.

“The Realm,” you tell him rudely, manifesting the agreement the Realm had given you to force Jungkook into accepting. The parchment is laid out on the countertop, curling up at the edges, black ink written neatly on top of it. He glares at it suspiciously, as if he’s suspected that you forged it. When you make no efforts to explain yourself further, he takes a hesitant step forward, eyes narrowing in on the parchment sitting in front of the both of you. In pitch black ink, loopy calligraphy, it says this:

As recommended and required by the Realm, its leaders, and its government, the recipient, Jeon Jungkook is to be assigned a minder, whose duty is to watch over him, regulate his use of magic, and work towards decreasing his magical activity.

This minder is being assigned as a result of misuse of magic by the recipient, either by abuse or from the intent to inflict harm upon mages or non-magic users. The Realm decrees that all mages who disobey the laws that govern society either be reformed or punished.

This minder must ensure that the recipient makes progress towards decreasing his magical activity by indefinitely accompanying and supervising him for every hour of the day. This minder’s term will expire once they have achieved their goal of decreasing the recipient’s use of magic and ensuring that abuse of it does not reoccur.

Should the recipient disobey this proclamation in any form, including vandalism, ignorance, or rejection, he will be brought to court and sentenced to jail accordingly.

Jungkook seems to read the parchment for about five seconds before crumpling it up in his hands and tossing it into the trash bin by the edge of the counter.

“Absolutely not,” he scoffs. “I do not need a minder. I don’t know what The Realm told you but I have no problem with my powers and your services are not required. There was probably some sort of mistake.”

As if. The paper says his name. Jungkook’s almost as bad at violating the rules of the Realm as you are.

“Uh—” you begin again, but Jungkook is already shooing you out of his penthouse, flicking you away like an animal that’s gotten too close. You find yourself backing up furiously in a desperate attempt to not be trampled by him and his oversized button-down and intimidating death glare, until you’re a foot out of his apartment.

“Maybe you can go bother someone else instead,” he suggests unhelpfully, before slamming the door in your face.

You stand there for a few more seconds, face to face with the dark mahogany wood. The bright side is that, even if Jungkook only read the first paragraph of the decree and then tossed it into his recycling bin, there’s no escaping the Realm. You have half a mind to just bugger off and let him face the consequences of his own actions. You can picture it in your head: Realm officers barging into his place of work and arresting him on the spot for consciously disregarding an order of the Realm. That might satiate you for a while.

Resigning yourself to the fact that if you knock on Jungkook’s door and politely suggest that he pull the parchment out from the trash and read the whole thing will probably not go down particularly well, you turn, letting your body vanish before you, before making your way back to the elevator. The pizza delivery guy arrives just as you reach it, letting you easily slide past him as he goes to make Jungkook’s day a little better by being an expected guest rather than an unwarranted visitor.

Jungkook may not have agreed to this today (not that he has a choice in the matter), but there’s always tomorrow.

Passing by the security, who spare no second glance at the fact that the automatic glass doors have just opened seemingly by themselves, you turn left when you reach the sidewalk and head home.

Home is a janky abandoned house at the very edge of the city, where the buildings meet train tracks and old highways, graffiti decorating every open surface within a five-mile radius. It’s not so much a house as it is a shack, old and rickety and forgotten. You think that the locals and the nons believe the place is haunted, since no one ever comes within one hundred feet of the entrance, the broken glass in the windows and big red spray-painted X on the door deterring most folks.

People who invite you into their houses and say, “it’s not much, but it’s home,” are such liars. For as long as you have lived here, this place has never felt like home. You never come back from a long day and think, ah, home sweet home. You will never dream of wasting away within these walls. That’s a death sentence.

You enter through the back door, ducking your head low to avoid hitting it on the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a wire or two. You’re not electrically-proficient enough to know how to fix it yourself so it’s less of a fire hazard, and you don’t have nearly enough money to call anyone to come repair it, so there it stays. It still works, though, and you use it in a pinch when you can’t see where you’re stepping.

There’s a small pile of folded clothing on the floor by the mattress, the remnants of a past life that feels more like an alternate universe than it does part of your history. The fridge doesn’t work, nor do most of the utilities, but the little stack of Campbell’s soup cans on the countertop is reliable and unchanging. As is the fact that you will probably never get out of this dump, so long as you shall live.

When you were little, you used to dream of living in a big castle, and wanting for nothing. You would have people to cook for you, clean for you, dress you, bathe you, entertain you. All of these stories about being a little princess, doted on and loved by all, innocent and pure and beautiful. All of these stories about finding Prince Charming, meeting the love of your life as waltzes into your life on a gorgeous white horse, getting married, having kids, and growing old together. You dreamed of a perfect life, a perfect love, where you never have to worry about anything, where no one is ever mean or rude, no government to dictate what you do.

It’s no wonder all of those stories were simply fairy tales.

It makes you even angrier when you think about Jeon Jungkook. He’s lived a life as close to perfection as possible, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a silver platter placed in front of him. He’s grown up with people adoring him, telling him he can do no wrong, rewarding him with a brand new toy when he gets in trouble, teaching him that his powers are for himself first and for other people next to you. Not much is fair in the world, but especially not the fact that he was bestowed with the gift of being able to turn whatever he wishes into gold.

He is everybody’s Prince Charming: wealthy, handsome, powerful. Too bad you aren’t a princess anymore.

Strangely enough, even after a long day, you aren’t feeling at all hungry. The scent of the pizza Jungkook had ordered to his door was enough to satisfy you, a warm feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Normally, this late at night, you might even be daring (or sleep-deprived) enough to break into one of your precious ramen packs, but instead you collapse onto the mattress, heavy heart willing you fast asleep, the light flickering above your head.

The next day you are faced with a choice: leave Jungkook alone and let him deal with the repercussions of his actions on his own (much to your delight), or go back and continue pestering him until he agrees to having a minder (much to your chagrin).

A new parchment has manifested itself on the counter, words copied from the one Jungkook threw out before your eyes. It shimmers, almost as if there’s a golden halo that surrounds it, another trick that the Realm has up its sleeve. You have a feeling that this one won’t be as easily ripped, crumpled up to be tossed into the nearest trash bin. It terrifies you—how closely they watch. You suppose that it was only a matter of time before they caught you.

Quite frankly, you’re shocked it took them this long to realize you were a serial pickpocketer in the first place.

As much as you’d love to see Jungkook get arrested and tried for defying the rules of the Realm, see his face plastered all over the newspapers and tabloids with stupid headlines like JEON JUNGKOOK: CRIMINAL? and ARRESTED FOR HAVING TOO MUCH MONEY?, and count it as a personal win, letting that happen would mean that you would have failed to do your court-ordered community service, which is a one-way ticket to prison.

So even if Jeon Jungkook was the grouchiest, greediest, cockiest person in the entire world (which, judging by what you know about him, he probably is), and even though you would happily let his career and reputation plummet, you don’t have a choice. The two of you will either go down together or not at all.

Resigning yourself to the fact that you will have to be within close proximity to Jeon Jungkook for the foreseeable future, you rally yourself out of bed, tugging on what you deem to be your nicest clothes and splashing your face clean. The rags you have on are probably worth a cent of what Jungkook wears on a daily basis, crisp suits and silver watches and golden earrings. He could spit on you and that would increase your net worth. But surprisingly enough, there is something empowering about the fact that Jeon Jungkook will no longer be able to ignore the plight of those in a lower class than him. Not when he, a person who has everything, will be forced to reckon with you, someone who has nothing.

It’s easy to find your way to Jungkook’s place of employment. It’s this enormous skyscraper with his name in a golden serif font above the entryway, marking the entire building as his own. It isn’t garish and ugly, per se, but it definitely makes a statement. This, combined with the cool, chic design of his penthouse apartment, redeems him a little. At least he has taste for someone with money to burn like fireworks.

There are two massive security guards and a whole squad of receptionists standing guard inside the building’s lobby, dressed pristinely and narrowing their eyes at anybody who dares enter. You wait across the street for a few minutes, loitering outside of a coffee shop and trying to avoid having people bump into you, watching. The only people that seem to be worthy of entering are wearing suits and dresses that cost more than what your abandoned house could sell for on the market after being restored, nodding their hellos to the security guards and receptionists as they press the elevator buttons and disappear into the building. You and your thrifted blouse would be laughed out in an instant.

Lucky for you, you happen to have a rather foolproof method of getting yourself through those doors, and it mostly involves the fact that nobody can even see you.

You rush across the road at the next green light and wait until you see someone heading in, the grand glass doors automatically opening when they register someone’s presence. It’s easy to slip in undetected, and you hang around in the lobby, secretly judging every single person that walks in after you. You could, quite honestly, spend all day in here, watching the receptionists tap away at their keyboards with robotic efficiency, answering calls left and right and fielding all sorts of questions from folks entering. It’s a world you have never dared step into, a world filled with wealth and power and class hierarchy, with Jeon Jungkook sitting on a pile of money at the very top of the pyramid.

Some of the people that work in this building will never in their entire lifetime get the chance to speak with him. They will come in, day after day, working for someone who they have no personal relationship to, someone that they will never be afforded the chance to meet.

Those people are, in your opinion, dodging a bullet.

If only your life was as kind to you.

A nervous young man walks in, clearly more out-of-place than anyone else. He seems to have barely bypassed security, flashing some sort of pass that lets him through the doors, but if a breeze came blowing through the lobby, he’d topple right over. He stumbles towards the receptionist desk, all of whom have phones to their ears as they furiously type on their keyboards. One woman holds up a hand, making him freeze in place. If he grinds his teeth any more they’ll all fall out before he even gets a chance to speak.

It’s another two minutes before the lady puts the phone down and says, “How can I help you?”

“I’m—I’m, uh—I’m here for a meeting,” the man fumbles out. You’re embarrassed for him.

“With who?” The woman asks, peering over the glasses resting on her pointy nose. She begins to look over the list of people who have meetings. It must be a rather extensive list.

“Mr—Mr. Jeon, ma’am,” the man sputters.

She looks doubtful. “Your name?”

“K-Kim…” he begins, staring down at his feet, “Kim Taehyung.”

“And your business with Mr. Jeon is?”

“I’m—uh, well, I’m a photographer for… for an article being written about him by F-Forbes,” he explains rather helplessly. He must have superb photography skills to make up for his extreme nervousness. You’ll be surprised if he makes it all the way to Jeon Jungkook’s office without wetting his pants out of fear.

The lady hums to herself, looking suspicious until she finds the man’s name on her list. “Mr. Jeon’s office is on the top floor. Make two lefts and then a right. You will have to wait to be called.”

“Thank you v-very much.” He scurries towards the elevator, and you strike while the iron is hot.

Rushing over, you manage to squeeze into the elevator right before the doors close, waiting patiently in the corner as the man tries to calm himself down, doing some sort of breathing exercise. Well, he’s got plenty of time to put his nerves aside, seeing as this building has seventy floors and Jeon Jungkook is apparently at the very top of them all. You feel bad for him, in a way. Jeon Jungkook was rude and unapologetically uncouth when you spoke to him, even if an aura of professionalism and extremely good social skills surrounds him at all times, and you don’t cower in fear at the sight of him.

There’s no telling what he’ll be like when Taehyung walks into his office.

One tense elevator ride later, the both of you arrive at the seventy-fifth floor, the silver doors opening to reveal a busy office space filled with people near the very top of the building’s pyramid. People like his secretary and accountants and managers, people who come into direct contact with Jeon Jungkook every day from nine to five. In a way, you pity these people for having to deal with him, but it’s not like you’ll be any different.

Taehyung rushes out and you make sure to follow before the elevator doors crush you, following the receptionist’s instructions. Two lefts and a right.

Jungkook’s office, much like his apartment, is not hard to miss. His name is written on a plaque on the door, and a guard stands outside with a clipboard, regulating everybody who passes in and out of the room. The walls that surround him are glass but he keeps the blinds drawn permanently, so that no one has the pleasure of seeing his face while they work tirelessly to impress him. Taehyung gives his name to the man, who checks him off on the paper on his clipboard before entering the room.

“Sir, your 12:30 is here,” the guard says.

Taehyung looks about ready to pass out.

“Let them in,” Jungkook’s voice bellows in response. The man nods to Taehyung, who trembles where he stands, twiddling his thumbs like there’s no tomorrow. He shuffles in awkwardly and the door shuts behind him. Luckily, the walls are sound-proof.

The thirty minutes of waiting is agony. You have nothing to do but rehearse in your head how this next conversation is going to go down, the scroll burning a hole in your back pocket. If Jungkook was displeased at best to see you in his apartment, you can only imagine the horror on his face when he sees you’ve infiltrated his workplace as well. Especially since you don’t have even a fraction of the money and power needed to enter the building on more professional terms.

The good news is that, no matter what Jungkook says, no matter how many times he kicks you out of his penthouse and his skyscraper, he has no choice but to accept the deal, regardless of how long it will take for him to realize this. You never thought you’d ever be relying on the Realm to carry you through a predicament, and nor did you ever think you’d be doing their bidding, and yet, here you are.

The door opens at one o’clock on the dot.

“Th-thank you so much for your time again, Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung says, bowing profusely as he heads out. “I really appreciate it, you—you won’t regret it, I promise, thank you again!” You quickly rush towards the door, even making to hold it slightly open for Taehyung as he heaps his thanks on top of Jungkook. In the split second it takes for Taehyung to let the door go and for it to shut, you slip inside.

“Finally,” Jungkook huffs out to himself, hand rubbing against his forehead. He’s not wearing a suit like you had expected, rather, a silken button-down shirt and tailored slacks. He doesn’t even have a tie.

Well, you suppose that being your own boss has its perks.

Jungkook’s stomach growls. “Fuck, I’m hungry.” He presses a button on the phone in his office. “I’m taking my hour lunch break now,” Jungkook informs the person on the other end. “Put all of my meetings on hold until two o’clock and not a moment earlier.”

He hangs up the phone and runs his hands through his hair, neatly straightened and styled. You hate to admit it, but there’s no wonder the man has captured the hearts of people all over the city. He’s rather good looking, the flecks of gold scattered around his office complementing his swirling brown eyes, making them look like caramel instead of cocoa. You have a hunch that, in the eyes of the general public, unattractive people instantly become good-looking the moment that they acquire wealth, power, fame, or all three, but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any of those things for people to think he’s beautiful. To him, they’re just bonuses.

He turns around for a moment to look for something, probably to fish his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, and you turn. Nothing says hello like magically manifesting yourself in his office.

“Jesus fu—!” Jungkook practically jumps out of his skin when he sees you. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m your minder,” you explain again.

“I told you I don’t need a goddamn minder,” Jungkook spits out, turning around again just so he doesn’t have to see your face. “Get out.”

“Sorry, no can do,” you say, rocking back and forth on your feet. “Realm’s orders.”

“Fuck the Realm,” Jungkook says. “I don’t need a minder. Your services are unnecessary. Now get out, before I call security.”

You purse your lips. “You may want to think twice about that.” With a flourish, you whip out the scroll, a golden yellow glow still surrounding the parchment, handing it to Jungkook like a Christmas cracker. He snatches it out of your hand and unfurls it. “You should probably read the whole thing this time. It won’t rip like the last one.”

Jungkook glares at the paper like it’s ruined his life—which, judging by his attitude, it probably has—as he scans over the words, scowl worsening with every second that passes.

“You shouldn’t frown like that, it’s not a good look on you,” you chide. At least Jungkook knows that there’s no bribing his way out of this one.

“I told you I don’t need a minder,” he says again like it hasn’t already been made abundantly clear.

“Well, I didn’t want to be assigned to you, but unfortunately, it looks like neither of us are going to get what we want,” you retort. “It’s this or prison, Jeon. You pick.”

“Why the fuck were you assigned to me, then?” Jungkook asks, rounding on you. “What are your powers?”

“Healing and invisibility,” you spit out. Not nearly as glamorous or lucrative as his own, but they come with their own benefits. For example, the ability to infiltrate high-level, upper class places of employment. “Maybe they thought I’d make a good babysitter since those are two skills often used with children,” you tell him pointedly.

“I don’t need a minder,” Jungkook repeats for the umpteenth time. “I don’t misuse my magic or abuse my powers.”

“Uh,” you point out, an eyebrow raised skeptically, “I think I’d like to beg to differ.” There’s more gold in this room than miners probably found in San Francisco in the nineteenth century. The fact that nons haven’t noticed the abundance of it in his office is outrageous to you. How else do they think he and his family built up this empire?

“Please,” Jungkook says with a frown. “As if we don’t all use our powers for our own benefit. Huh? What did you do that was so terrible that you had to be assigned as my minder?”

“I pickpocket,” you explain economically. No point in sugar-coating it. Jungkook has probably already figured out you don’t come from nearly as much money as he does. “And I got caught.”

“Sucks,” Jungkook comments callously.

“Sucks for you, too,” you fire back. “You got caught as well. Agree to the terms or go to jail, Jeon Jungkook. I don’t care. But don’t say I didn’t try to help.”

You stand there in silence for a few more seconds, letting your words dissipate into the air, sinking into the ground. Jeon Jungkook seems to have this furious battle within himself, brows furrowing as he rubs at his chin, pacing back and forth behind his desk. He knows he doesn’t have a choice. He goes to jail and his reputation is soiled. The Realm repossesses all that he has made of himself and he must start from scratch under their ruthlessly watchful eye. There will be no recovery. Only survival.

Or, he deals with you for a couple of months until the Realm is satisfied with the both of you, and you both go on your merry way, never having to see each other again.

You know what you’d pick if you were in his shoes.

“Fine,” Jungkook spits out, pointing an accusing finger your way. “But you are to be invisible whenever we are in public, and that includes here.”

“Done. But you have to decrease your turning otherwise we’ll be stuck with each other forever,” you negotiate. “I’ll also have to come and live with you. Can you handle that, or are you too ashamed to have someone else inside your home?”

Jungkook scoffs. “I live in a penthouse the size of a museum. Pick whatever bedroom you fucking want. I doubt we’ll even see each other.” At least there’s one upside to having to stay with him in his massive residence.

“Fine,” you spit out, just for good measure.

“Fine,” he counters back. Like anything about this conversation, this agreement, this goddamn life you have to live, is fine.

Yeah, right.

Jungkook’s penthouse is much more magnificent when you are more than two steps in the door. From where you had stood before, barely just past the door frame as he crumpled the parchment in his hand and tossed it into the trash bin, you hadn’t been able to see it in half its glory, let alone in full. When you can stand in the center of it all, eyes darting from the hallways and archways and spiral staircases leading to a rooftop pool or gym or both, it is overwhelming. Suffocating.

His living room alone is larger than anything you have ever lived in, anything you have ever had the pleasure of calling your own. The ceiling is sky high and completely glass, streaks of sun shooting down and casting its rays on his chic furniture, deep hardwood floors. You’re so busy looking up that you nearly trip on a white rug laid out on the floor.

“There are four bedrooms down that hallway and two down that one,” Jungkook says gruffly, flinging his keys into a bowl resting on a shelf and shrugging off his jacket, letting it hang over his forearm. How could one person possibly take up all of this space?

“Where do you sleep?” You ask.

“That’s none of your business,” Jungkook says with a frown.

“There’s no point in not telling me,” you remind him helpfully, “there’s only so many places you can be.”

Jungkook sighs. “It’s upstairs. But you can just sleep in any of the empty ones down here.”

“Thanks,” you deadpan.

“Is that all you brought?” Jungkook asks with a raised eyebrow, looking at the backpack hanging loose off your shoulder. The zipper’s broken, so the outer flap is in a constant state of being folded over, but it works.

“What, did you expect a moving truck?” You retort.

“Ugh, forget I asked,” Jungkook says, shrugging his shoulders as he turns away from you. He begins to point around the room. “There should be some ready meals in the fridge if you’re hungry. TV’s always set to the news, but feel free to change it. Volume shouldn’t ever be over forty. Books are alphabetized by the author’s last name. No parties, though I don’t imagine you frequent those.”

You can’t tell if that’s a jab or just him being observant, but either way, it’s true. You don’t even have any friends.

“Fine, anything else?”

“Every bedroom has an ensuite bathroom,” Jungkook informs you. “So use that one. Don’t come into my bedroom. There’s more than enough space here for the both of us to go without seeing each other, so let’s keep it that way.”

“Aw, you mean I’m not allowed to wake up to your handsome face and infectious attitude every day?” You pout sarcastically, making Jungkook scrunch up his nose and frown. “Don’t forget that the only way you’re gonna get me out of here is if you listen to the Realm and follow my rules.”

“Yeah, which are?”

“You’re not allowed to turn at all when I’m around, whether or not you can physically see me. Every time you do is a strike. Three strikes—because I’m generous and forgiving—and I’ll report you to the Realm. The whole point of me being here is to make you stop using your powers all of the time.”

“It’s not like I’m doing any harm to people,” Jungkook defends. “You steal, what’s your excuse?”

“You use your power to add onto your already-enormous bank account,” you point out crudely. “I use mine to survive. It’s different.” Jungkook isn’t convinced. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, because I got caught and so did you and now we both have to deal with the consequences.”

He huffs to himself.

“So do we have a deal?” You ask, glaring up at him, unrelenting. Jungkook’s chocolate brown eyes flicker as the gold around his house reflects off of his irises, like he’s trying desperately to find a way to get himself out of this before it’s too late.

What he doesn’t realize is that the very first moment he ever turned something to gold, the very first time the object began to shimmer and spark, he was already too far gone.

You suppose that in a way, so were you.

“Fine,” Jungkook gruffs out, a veiny hand held out towards you. It’s stiff and cold, much in the same way that his penthouse is, that he is. This is not an agreement birthed from choice. It came from necessity, out of self-preservation. He is doing this to protect his reputation. You are doing it to protect your freedom. If all goes well, after a couple of months the two of you will never have to cross paths again. Oh, doesn’t that sound lovely? “Deal?”

You grab his hand in your own, squeezing tightly. There is no going back from this.

“Deal.”

On the bright side, being a minder has finally given you something to do instead of stalking the streets and wasting away on your mattress on the floor. Granted, office life isn’t that much more entertaining, but at least you don’t have to be out in the summer heat anymore.

As per your side of the deal, you remain invisible whenever Jungkook is out in public, which, quite frankly, is less frequently than you had originally anticipated. His entire life seems to go back and forth from home to work then work to home, an endless cycle, a Newton’s cradle on repeat. Maybe that’s why he’s such a prickly asshole—he doesn’t ever make time for things he enjoys.

You thought he would at least have business dinners or fundraising events or company galas to attend. Isn’t that what most CEOs do? Flaunt their wealth to other wealthy people? Jungkook has so much money that he could easily entertain himself by one-upping all of his fellow CEO friends at every event he goes to, flashing the Rolex watch on his wrist or the fancy Italian shoes he always wears.

But no. He wakes up, gets dressed, eats a meal from the ready-made ones wrapped in foil in his fridge, and goes to work. When he comes home, he takes off his suit jacket and shoes, eats dinner, and lounges around his penthouse. Works out sometimes, maybe watches a movie.

Being rich always seemed to be a lot more fun than what Jungkook makes it out to be. Maybe it’s because everything in modern media is completely fake and wholly unrealistic. Or maybe he’s just purposefully making his life boring because you’re here now.

But even if the only two places Jungkook ever goes are work and home, his personality doesn’t seem to change no matter what location he’s at. All of his employees are simultaneously frightened of him and desperate to please him, lowering their heads when he passes by their cubicle but placing finished report files and completed tasks at the edges of their desks for him to glance over as he does. You follow him like a wearied assistant (of which he actually has three, and you are just the annoying invisible one) and he acts like you aren’t even there. When Jungkook returns home with you carelessly traipsing in after him, turning visible the moment he closes the door, he shrugs off his outerwear and goes back to doing his very favorite thing in the whole world: pretending you don’t exist.

At least that hasn’t changed since you moved in.

The bright side is that Jungkook hasn’t turned at all since you’ve shown up. Not in his penthouse and not at work, though he is usually far too busy dealing with real-world issues to dwell on whether or not he’s got enough gold to his name. The answer is that he does, but he doesn’t give a shit about that. Too much is apparently never enough.

Even if you are invisible, being in an office setting is somewhat unsettling to you. From a people-watching perspective, you love it, because you get an entire building of people to observe and judge, but from a personal perspective, it’s just another reminder of a life that you are not meant to live.

All of these people in their ties and pencil skirts and uncomfortable leather shoes, fighting to beat each other out for the next promotion and desperate to please their absolutely unpleasable boss. A nine-to-five job, day in and day out. A fat check in their bank account every month. These are things that are both undesirable and unattainable to you. A glimpse into their lives doesn’t spur you to pursue a career path like theirs, it tells you that no matter what, you won’t ever be able to do what they do.

“Sir, here are the finished analysis reports on the Lee Corporation joint stockholdings,” a proud young man says, plopping it down on Jungkook’s desk as you watch on in silence. The not-speaking part has been rather difficult, but you do get to whisper annoying things into Jungkook’s ear whenever nobody’s around.

“They are completed?” Jungkook asks without even looking up at the man, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did I not ask for them to be completed by Friday?”

The man goes white in the face.

“Uh—” he begins, immediately losing all confidence he had when he entered Jungkook’s office. “Well, I—”

“I don’t appreciate belated work,” Jungkook spits out. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The man nods and scurries out of the office before Jungkook can say anything else. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Wow, couldn’t even say a ’thank you’?” You chide. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”

“Late work is unacceptable,” Jungkook says. You’re lucky that his blinds are always drawn, or everyone would see him talking to apparently nobody. “There are no exceptions.”

“He was a day late,” you point out.

“Three, if you include weekends.”

“That doesn’t make a difference; he wouldn’t have been able to turn them in over the weekend,” you tell him.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Jungkook orders sternly. He looks angry, but also foolish, because even though he can judge where you’re standing from the sound of your voice, he still can’t meet your eyes. He’s staring holes into the succulent plant on the shelf to your right.

“I’m not,” you defend, annoyed. “I’m telling you how to be a nice person.”

“I don’t need lessons on that, either.” Jungkook frowns. “He turned in work late and was reprimanded. It’s not any different than what happens in school.”

“But you didn’t even thank him for his time or for showing up to your office, or for the fact that he did the work!” You cry out.

“What should I be thanking him for? For making the thirty-feet trip from his desk to my office? For turning in work that he was obligated to do late?” Jungkook challenges. “He had to do those. He wasn’t doing me any favors.”

“Except he was, because if he didn’t do that work, then you would’ve had to do it,” you remind him. “Everybody here is doing work because you aren’t able to do all of it yourself. And that’s not your fault—there are only twenty-four hours in a day and you are only one person. But you should be thanking them for their contributions. Even when they turn in something a little late. It’ll do wonders for other people.”

“Are you implying that people don’t like working here?” It’s like he wants to keep this fight going.

You sigh, loud enough for him to hear despite being a good few steps away from him. “I’m saying that everybody out there—” you say, opening the blinds that cover the walls ever so slightly, just enough for him to see out into the sea of people that sit outside, “—everybody wants so desperately for you to like them. Or at least outwardly display that you don’t hate them. And if you just said please and thank you every now and then, people wouldn’t be so afraid of you.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, he shuts it like a trap and sits back down. He probably doesn’t really appreciate the fact that you’re directing him on how he controls his office on top of how he uses his magic. But it’s the truth, and he had to hear it one way or another.

“I didn’t ask for suggestions on how to run this office,” he spits out. “Next time I think advice like this is warranted, I’ll ask.” Which will be never.

“I’m here whether you like it or not,” you stand your ground. Jungkook gets to put up with you no matter what! “So I’ll tell you whatever I feel is necessary.”

Jungkook scowls.

“Don’t frown, it ruins your pretty face,” you tease. You walk a couple of steps and lean over to stretch his lips into a smile. He stiffens up, clearly having lost a sense of humor alongside his patience. “That’s better, don’t you think?”

“I can’t wait to get rid of you,” he bites.

“You’ll have to get rid of that attitude, first,” you counter. “Or neither of us are going anywhere.” Entitlement and greed go hand in hand. There’s no way you’ll be able to get Jungkook to stop turning everything around him into gold without giving his personality a makeover as well. Somewhere in there is a decent human being.

You just aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to find him.

The time spent at home is less eventful. Besides you, Jungkook has no one to shout at and be rude to, and in any case, he, for the most part, avoids you entirely. Which is understandable but totally counterproductive, because if you never interact, neither of you will ever get what you want.

Still, there is plenty to keep yourself busy inside of his penthouse. He’s subscribed to every streaming service under the sun and has a movie theater-esque surround sound system lining the walls. He has more books than some small town libraries. His internet is stupidly fast. Even if this setup is temporary, you sure as hell aren’t going to waste a second of it.

It is sort of weird to eat food with golden forks and knives, though. You always think you’re going to crack your teeth on your utensils.

You and Jungkook aren’t on speaking terms right now because an hour ago you caught him turning a vase in his office gold, the metal slowly wrapping around the base of the pot like pixie dust, sparkling and shimmering as the clay was overlaid with a deep, lustrous yellow. It increased the value of the vase tenfold and sent the both of you flying back to square one.

“Jungkook, what the hell?” You had shouted, storming into the room as Jungkook’s face turned beet red. “Just because I’m not sitting in the room with you doesn’t give you a free pass to do whatever you want.”

“It was just one pot!” Jungkook had defended himself. “I’m not even going to sell it or anything, it just looks nice. The room needed something extra.”

“I’ve upheld my side of the agreement, what’s so difficult about upholding yours?”

“Oh yeah, like telling me how to do my job even though you have no experience in business whatsoever?” He had challenged. “I don’t think I agreed to that part of the deal.”

“Strike one, Jeon Jungkook,” you had spat out at him. “Otherwise there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to get rid of me.”

Granted, the vase did look much better in gold than it did when it was made of clay, a glazed design of ferns and vines wrapping around the base. But even if Jungkook does have a particularly good eye for interior design, it doesn’t give him a free pass to turn things just to match his chic aesthetic. How many other things has he turned when you weren’t around to shout at him? You’ll have to go through his entire house every day, taking stock of every single item inside of it, making sure that nothing has inexplicably turned to gold.

Defeated, you had returned back to the main living room, flopping around like a beached whale on the leather. Jungkook always has the television set to the news, so you put it on in the background as you count the minutes until you’re finally free. Judging from what’s happened so far, you think you’ll be here forever.

There’s a knock on the door. You don’t recall Jungkook answering any buzzes to his home, but maybe he’s just ordered a pizza or something and it’s here. It’s nearly dinnertime, anyway.

You wait a few seconds to see if Jungkook’s going to make any attempts at answering the door himself. When the knock repeats itself and Jungkook still doesn’t appear, you hop off of the couch to get it yourself. You’re hungry, and pizza sounds delicious right now. A massive upgrade from Campbell’s soups.

When you open the door however, there is no pizza delivery guy behind the door. Instead, there is an extremely well-dressed couple who are smiling happily at you, albeit a little surprised to see you on the other side of the door.

“Hello?” You ask, polite but confused.

“Hello!” The man says happily, chortling to himself. “Who might you be?” One good look at the two of them tells you that they’re Jungkook’s parents. His dad has the same nose, and his mom has the same big, bright eyes. They would kick you to the curb if they knew who you were.

“I’m Y/N,” you explain unhelpfully.

“Well, Y/N, do you mind letting us inside? The air conditioning out in this hallway has always been too strong,” his dad asks. You nod awkwardly and step to the side, letting the two of them in. “Ah, looks the same as always. You must give Jungkookie that interior designer’s number, alright? He could do something much nicer with the place,” he tells his wife, who nods in agreement. She passes by the bowl that Jungkook always throws his keys into when he returns home and presses a finger to it, letting gold wrap around the edges until it’s transformed into the metal.

“Jungkook!” You shout down the hallway, desperately hoping that he isn’t going to leave you alone with his parents.

“What?” He shouts back.

“We have visitors!” You call.

Jungkook’s parents are already picking out all of the things about Jungkook’s living room layout that they would change, turning picture frames here and decorative sculptures there gold, careless and without reason. You’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying your best to look as unsurprised and as normal as possible. Luckily, you haven’t been interrogated yet, but there’s no telling what will happen if Jungkook doesn’t show up yet.

Two minutes later, Jungkook comes strolling down the hallway, clearly uninterested, but his eyes practically bulge out of his head when he sees who’s come to say hello.

“M-Mom! Dad!” He sputters out, terrified. “What—what are you doing here?” He asks, looking at you nervously. You shrug unhelpfully. All you did was answer the door.

“Came to pay our wonderful son a visit, of course!” His father says, guffawing loudly. He reaches an arm out and pulls Jungkook into a crushing hug. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, I mean—” Jungkook begins, speechless. “I wasn’t expecting you at all, you know.”

“I know!” His mother cries happily. “But you know that families must always stick together.”

“Yeah…” he trails off. “Listen, it’s really nice to see the both of you, but I’m kind of busy at the moment—”

“We should stay for dinner!” His mother suggests, a lightbulb going off above her head. “We haven’t seen you in so long—we have so much to catch up on! What do you say, honey?”

Jungkook’s father looks peachy keen. “Sounds like a great idea! And you can introduce us to Y/N too, hmm?”

“Okay…” Jungkook says. He turns to you and you’ve never seen him so caught off guard. With his big, wide eyes, he’s a deer in headlights. “Just, uh, give us a second, would you? Thanks.”

That’s the only warning you’re given before Jungkook is pulling you down the hallway and into the nearest bedroom, slamming the door shut behind the both of you. The sound of the wood hitting the frame makes you jump as Jungkook furrows his brows and turns to face you directly.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” he says, looking you dead in the eyes as you stare up at him, unimpressed. “My parents can’t know that I’ve been assigned a minder. They just can’t. They’ve trusted me to run this business and to be in control of my life and I don’t even want to think about what they’ll do if they find out why you’re really here.”

“Okay, so?” You say with a frown. “I’ll turn invisible. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“But they’ve already seen you, you opened the goddamn door,” Jungkook says with a sigh, clearly exasperated. He rubs his forehead before his hand makes its way through his hair, brushing through the long, dark strands.

“Well, sorry for not wanting to leave whoever was outside hanging,” you retort.

“No, it’s fine, whatever,” Jungkook says. He paces around the room slightly, eyes glossing over the still life painting hung up on the wall and the door to the walk-in closet. He pauses in front of it for a moment, thinking, before he rounds on you. “Can I trust you to pretend to be my girlfriend for just one night while they’re here?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Please? They seem to already be under the impression that we’re dating anyway, and I don’t want to have to think of a different explanation for you,” Jungkook pleads. He’s desperate.

“Let me get this straight: you want me, your minder, to fake being your girlfriend for your parents?” You ask, punctuating every word. This is worse than actually being his minder.

Jungkook nods. “Just while they’re here. And then we can go back to avoiding each other. Please?”

And for once, when you see Jeon Jungkook’s stupidly beautiful face, you don’t feel angry, or resentful, or envious. You feel… sympathy. It’s easy being rich and powerful, even easier when you don’t even need to work for your money, but parents are parents, no matter how much gold is in your pocket.

Besides, it’s not like you rejecting him will have much of an effect on the grand scheme of things, anyway. You do, and then Jungkook has to spend an awkward night with his parents and you won’t accomplish anything.

“Fine,” you say, begrudgingly so. “But only for tonight.”

“Oh God, thank you,” Jungkook says, and he actually means it. He dashes into the walk-in closet and pulls out a summery day dress, all flowy and floral, coming down to right above your knees. “Here, put this on. You know I don’t give a shit about what you wear but my parents will.”

“Why do you have this?” You ask, holding the hanger in your hand. One touch of the fabric and you can already feel the craftsmanship, the material sturdy and soft.

“An old hookup or something, probably.” Jungkook shrugs, nonchalant.

You decide not to question whether or not you are about to wear something that Jungkook has had sex with someone in and head into the closet to change. From inside, you can hear Jungkook pacing back and forth in the bedroom, no doubt trying to come up with a believable story as to why you’ve suddenly appeared in his life and where you had come from.

When you emerge, Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. This dress is easily the most expensive (and clean) thing you’ve ever put on your body, draping seamlessly along your hips and smoothing over all of the parts of your body you’ve never been too fond of. The sensation is pleasant but uncomfortable, as you have always vastly preferred your own clothes to other people’s, but wearing this at least doesn’t make you feel like you live in an abandoned house on the edge of town.

“Wow,” Jungkook says dumbly, looking at you with his lips parted like a fish, mouth agape. He scratches at the nape of his neck and coughs. “You look kinda good.”

“How thoughtful of you to say,” you chide, basking in the feeling of finally catching Jungkook off guard.

“Hopefully my parents won’t be here too long,” Jungkook says as he opens the door, letting you exit first. “Normally, they stick around just long enough to tell me about all of the things in my life that I’m currently doing wrong or should improve upon, and then they leave.”

“Fun.” It doesn’t sound very fun at all.

“At least this time they won’t be grilling me about a girlfriend,” Jungkook says, offering you a grateful smile as you return to the main living space, where Jungkook’s parents are in the middle of turning some of the decorative trinkets on his shelves gold. “Sorry,” he begins, catching his parents’ attention. “We were just talking. Y/N had to change.”

“She looks lovely in that dress, did you buy it for her?” His mother asks. You send a small smile of thanks.

“Yes, of course,” Jungkook lies. You think not knowing the origins of this dress is best for both you and him. He shuffles the both of you into the kitchen, an awkward hand on the small of your back. If you were a third party watching the two of you, you could sniff out the fake gestures and affection from a mile away. No two people in love are this stiff around each other.

His parents wait in the living space, blissfully ignorant, as the two of you fumble around in the kitchen in a last-minute attempt to scrounge up something resembling an acceptable meal. You, admittedly, do not use a kitchen fairly often, and stick to pouring the four of you some wine as Jungkook fishes through his fridge and cabinets. He eventually decides on heating up a pre-made pasta dish, filled with all sorts of vegetables you couldn’t name even if you tried. It smells good, at least.

For someone who seems to rely entirely on a personal chef to do most of his cooking, Jungkook knows his way around the kitchen fairly well, bouncing from one end to the other as if he’s running on a mental timer. Granted, he isn’t actually cooking anything, but compared to you, he may as well be a top chef at a five-star restaurant. Ten minutes later and he’s got a mouth-watering spaghetti dish, topped with vegetables and what looks to be an herb garnish, a side salad, and four glasses of wine that you so expertly poured.

Unfortunately, with his parents around, you and Jungkook don’t get to go through your usual meal ritual of sitting as far away from each other as physically possible and not talking whatsoever, sitting down next to each other in his fancy suede dining chairs as his parents take the two seats opposite you. Jungkook’s dining table only seats six, despite the sheer size of his actual dining room, and quite frankly, you have never seen him actually use it for what it’s meant for: dining.

“Delicious, did you make this?” His father asks, already reaching over to serve himself some.

“Y/N helped.” No you didn’t.

The serving utensils then move to Jungkook’s mother, who does not turn them into gold, instead opting for a baby tomato, which she places in her drink to serve as some sort of extremely niche ice cube. You can’t imagine how good that will taste. Jungkook’s father laughs at his mother, who is obviously proud of herself. Jungkook forces himself to chuckle ever so slightly, and you crack a very helpless smile. It doesn’t really take a genius to figure out where Jungkook got his turning habits from.

“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s father begins, catching you right as you shove an entire forkful of pasta into your mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk getting ready for the winter, “how long have you known our son?”

“Uh, a couple of—”

“A couple of months,” Jungkook interrupts, speaking louder than usual. “We met at the Park Gala that they hosted, do you remember?”

You kick Jungkook’s shin under the table, making him wince.

“Ah, yes.” His mother nods in recollection. “Unfortunately we were on that cruise through France, so we couldn’t make it. A shame, we would have loved to meet you then. Are you a friend of the Parks?”

“An associate,” Jungkook explains as vaguely as possible. “Y/N works in law.”

“Ah, law,” Jungkook’s father says romantically, twirling his fork around in the air. “The conscience of business.”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing out a small laugh. The less you say, the better. Though it is ironic that you now apparently work in law, considering your favorite activity is breaking it. You suppose that nobody knows the law better than its criminals.

“Where are you from, Y/N? Do we know your parents?” This is starting to sound less like a dinner conversation and more like an interrogation.

“Y/N actually built herself up,” Jungkook covers for you. Lord knows revealing your true background would send both of his parents storming out of the building. “She doesn’t like to talk about her parents very much.”

That’s one way of putting it.

“Ah, what a shame,” his mother tuts, shaking her head. “We’d love to meet them.”

“Yeah…” you agree distantly, making a mental note to give Jungkook a good shove when this is all over. Well, two can play at this game. “Jungkook is teaching me a lot about how you guys run your business.” You add pointedly, earning a leg kick in return. “It’s very interesting to see from a law perspective.” More like from a human perspective.

“Oh, you must be very impressed,” his father says proudly, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “We’ve all worked extremely hard to get where we are.” Because turning things to gold at the press of a finger is truly such a taxing job.

“I’m certainly surprised,” you say back, sending a patient but stiff smile their way. They return the favor easily. Maybe you’re more like these people than you thought. “It’s a big change from what I’m used to.” Jungkook smacks his leg against yours, and you retaliate not a moment afterwards.

“I’m sure,” his mother says, voice sickly sweet. “But you’ll be able to adjust in no time. It’s definitely a level up, is it not?”

Jungkook looks like a lost child in a grocery store aisle, eyes wide as they flit back and forth between you and his parents, hurling thinly-veiled insults at each other like it’s nobody’s business.

“It’s different,” you respond.

“Well, I’m sure that Jungkook is doing all that he can to accommodate you,” his father says. “Sometimes the people he chooses to date are… not ideal for this sort of lifestyle. We hope that you are able to adjust quickly. We understand that this is a lot.”

“I certainly hope that I’m a good match, then,” you finish, because something inside of you can’t bear to let Jungkook’s stuffy, elitist parents get the last word.

The rest of the meal is rather silent, save for a few mindless comments about how poorly Jungkook’s decorated his dining room. You and Jungkook have been warring underneath the dinner table all evening, your shins undoubtedly sporting bruises, because apparently everything the two of you are saying to his parents is wrong. Jungkook’s parents either don’t know or don’t care, because they don’t say anything about the tension that settled over the table like a cloud of fog, thick and potent.

When everyone’s finished eating, Jungkook’s parents head straight to the door, determining that their contributions to his evening and his penthouse are enough—for now. Who knows if or when they’ll return. You and Jungkook have no choice but to see them off, rounding out the night just as you started: fake, empty smiles.

“It was lovely to meet you, Y/N,” his mother tells you, hand clutching her purse. “I hope that we may see each other again sometime soon.”

“Yes, I am looking forward to it,” you say with glee, knowing that the chances of you never having to speak to her again are well in your favor.

“Nice work, son,” his father says, a heavy hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Just let us know if you ever need anything.”

“Will do,” Jungkook promises distantly. You can tell that Jungkook doesn’t ask his father for advice too often.

You bid your goodbyes and Jungkook shuts the door behind them, and it’s almost as the atmosphere immediately begins to clear, the air conditioning cycling out the tension, like a breath of fresh air.

“Ugh, thank God that’s over,” you huff out, already itching to get out of this dress and back into your own clothes. It was gorgeous at first, but now it’s just an ugly reminder.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Jungkook says.

“’Wasn’t that bad’?” You repeat. It’s as if the words went in through Jungkook’s one ear and right out the other. “Are you serious? It was unbearable. Your parents were judging me from the moment I opened the door. No wonder you’ve never had a lasting girlfriend. I couldn’t think of anyone who would want to deal with that.”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook says, rounding on you as fire burns in his eyes. “What do you mean, ’that’?”

“I mean that I don’t know how on Earth people just accept the fact that in other people’s eyes, they’ll never be good enough?” You tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. This sort of life has been so ingrained into Jungkook’s head that he doesn’t even recognize it as unwelcoming and stifling. “I couldn’t stand being your girlfriend. Your parents are judgy and rude, and you all act like people who don’t come from as much money and power as you have no business sitting where you sit.”

“So your best approach was to shade and insult my parents in return?” He combats. “I would hate to be your boyfriend. My parents get more aggressive when people fight them, but you shove me under the table when I try to get you to back down? Just so you can have the final word to two people you’ll probably never see again?”

“The fact that anyone has dated you astounds me,” you tell him.

“The fact that nobody’s dated you doesn’t astound me,” Jungkook spits back.

You frown, embers flaring in your boiling blood. What, did Jungkook think you were going to enjoy yourself tonight? By pretending to be some sort of ditzy, desperate-to-please girlfriend? “You’re welcome for doing you a favor and not just straight up telling your parents you’ve been assigned a minder because you can’t handle your own powers. Don’t expect me to do it again.”

“I’m not planning on it,” Jungkook mumbles to himself, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Fine.”

You and Jungkook march down opposite hallways, desperate for this night to be over. You tear off the dress and let it sit at the foot of the bed, taunting you.

There is no way in hell you are ever leaving this place.

The time spent at work is allocated half towards following Jungkook around like an invisible puppy with a personal vendetta against him, making sure that he doesn’t turn, and half towards wishing that something actually interesting will happen. Jungkook runs so tight a ship that nobody ever seems to want to do anything fun or exciting, no doughnuts, no inside jokes, no pranks. Just an endless cycle of trying desperately to please the unpleasable.

Admittedly, nowadays, you don’t really mind being here as much as you used to, when you would mentally criticize every person that walked through the glass doors to Jungkook’s office, hands filled with stacks of paper and manila folders, plopped onto Jungkook’s desk one by one. Jungkook’s started to keep extra food up in his office, the mini-fridge by his bookshelves constantly filled with takeaway salads and fruit. Apples are a definite no-go because they’re too loud, and you can only ever risk eating salads when nobody’s around to hear you pop the plastic top off of the container, but other than that, it’s nice.

Jungkook has pretty good taste in food, too, which is an added bonus. Though anything is a leg up from what you normally eat.

And even though you’ve begun to start roaming around, exploring the nooks and crannies that line the clean-cut layout, your favorite place to be is Jungkook’s office. He’s got these magnificent floor-to-ceiling glass windows, with a view directly over the biggest park in the city, thousands of feet up in the air. From up here, it almost feels as though you’re looking down at a different world, a different universe. It’s difficult to imagine that everyone down there, every ant-sized person walking along the sidewalk or resting on a park bench or ordering from a food stand, has lives of their own.

Especially when they are but specks of dust in yours.

Jungkook looks at this view forty hours a week. You wonder if he ever gets sick of it.

The door to Jungkook’s office creaks open as you’re staring out of the windows, watching as the clouds pass overhead. They look like little white dogs, like cotton candy, like angel wings.

“Mr. Jeon?”

The owner of the voice is the same man you berated Jungkook for shouting at a few weeks ago, the one who had turned in an analysis report a day late. He seems just as frightened of Jungkook now as he did back then, and it makes you wonder if any of Jungkook’s employees aren’t afraid of him.

“Here’s the completed budget report for the Lee Corporation for last fiscal year,” the man says, reaching a trembling hand out to lay a manila folder on Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook only looks up once he sees it out of his periphery, hand pausing mid-write, pen still hovering over the papers on his desk.

He meets the man’s eyes, and when he does, he cracks a small smile, this sort of barely-there grin, lips curling upwards ever so slightly. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

It’s as if the man has won the lottery. He thanks Jungkook quickly before bouncing out of the room, steps much lighter, like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. You watch as he leaves the room, a smile etching itself onto your face. It’s rather incredible what a simple ‘thank you’ can do to people.

You don’t say anything to Jungkook, instead just turning back around to gaze out of the window. There’s an entire city below your feet, one that bustles around like bees in a hive, everyone with a place to be and things to do. There is this strange but comforting feeling of insignificance, one where you feel as though you could disappear and nobody would notice a thing. The rest of the world can and will move on without you. But that doesn’t mean that your life means nothing. It means that your life can be whatever you want to make of it, because in the grand scheme of things, nobody else will know what you have done.

History is like that, too. You must be remarkable to be remembered. But that doesn’t mean the unremarkable people were forgotten. They touched lives, too.

Staring out the window as the clouds swim over the sun, a light grey shadow casting itself over the park, you feel at peace.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

You jump at the voice, Jungkook’s presence next to you having gone totally unnoticed. You didn’t even hear him get up from his chair.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask.

“I could sense it," Jungkook says with a grin, making you raise an eyebrow. You’re invisible. “I’m kidding, I saw you come over here a bunch last week when you first got into my office and I figured you’d probably still be here.”

“You figured correctly,” you tell him.

“You know, I don’t spend enough time looking out these windows,” Jungkook admits, and you aren’t sure if it’s to you or himself. “I’m always staring at my computer or writing something at my desk with my head down. I’ve got the best view in the whole city and sometimes, I don’t even remember what it looks like.”

“You work hard,” you tell him, because that’s something that is undeniable about who he is and what he does. “But you deserve to give yourself a break, every now and then.”

“For lunch breaks, the first thing I do is get out of my office. I spend all day in there and when it’s finally time for me to put work on pause, I rush out of the room like it’s on fire,” Jungkook comments. “Maybe I should stay up here every once in a while instead.”

“It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere,” you joke.

“You can, you know,” Jungkook tells you. “You don’t have to stay up here all day.”

“I know,” you say. “But I don’t really mind it. I like being here. It’s calming, in a way.” In a way that you can’t explain. Like you’re stuck in freeze frame while everyone else moves around you. Like you’re watching a movie about everybody’s lives but your own. Like you’re a spectator in your own body. “Plus, the view is gorgeous.”

“It is,” Jungkook agrees.

You stand there in silence for a few more moments, the only sounds filling the room your inhales and exhales, soft and slow, your hearts beating in time. Jungkook is more than a foot away from you but here, in his office, looking out over the world, he has never felt closer.

“Thank you,” you whisper, letting the words hang in the air in front of you.

“For what?” Jungkook asks.

“For listening to me.”

You feel Jungkook turn to you, and when you dare to look up at him, you meet his hazy brown eyes, warm and sparkly. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a magazine cover come to life, crisp shirt collars and fancy Italian shoes, glossy brown hair and perfect skin. He smiles at you, this homey sort of thing that makes you feel like summer is running through your veins, like the rays of the sun are pressing against your skin.

“Of course,” he tells you.

Jungkook is a lot of things. He’s unabashedly gorgeous and outrageously wealthy. He walks around like he owns everything that he touches. His house is clean and chic and minimalist, almost like nobody lives there at all. He’s determined and a workaholic, and hates admitting when he’s wrong.

But maybe, just maybe, in the white afternoon light of his office, the rest of the world underneath his feet, standing next to you as the two of you stare out in a city you call your own, he’s not that bad.

Being alone in Jungkook’s penthouse is, to put it lightly, absolutely terrifying.

It’s hard to believe that Jungkook--and maybe a girlfriend for a brief period--has occupied this entire space on his own, no one else to talk to, no one else to spend time with, no one to occupy his massive couches or fill up the chairs in his dining room.

You’ve always wondered why rich people buy the biggest houses. Sure, it’s because they’re rich, and because they can afford it, but it’s impossible for one person, or even two, to make the entire place feel like their own. You leave countless rooms untouched, meant for guests that you never have and parties that you never host. It’s like you’ve moved into half of a house, a quarter of a mansion. What’s the point of having so much space if you don’t ever have anyone to fill it up?

Normally you wouldn’t leave Jungkook’s side, following him around the city whenever he has errands to run or needs to dash back to work to pick up something he had forgotten. But Jungkook hasn’t been turning anything lately, even when you sleep in four hours later than he does, even when he stays up into the early hours of the morning while you pass out before it’s midnight. It’s like he’s somehow lost the will for his magic entirely, like it’s vanished from his body.

Well, you’re not complaining. That just means you’re one step closer to finishing your sentence.

Jungkook’s penthouse feels bigger when he’s not around. Even though you hardly ever see each other while you’re at home, the mere knowledge of his presence makes you feel like you’re not alone. Makes you feel like there is someone else in this little corner of the world.

Everything in here has always looked untouched. Like it doesn’t belong to anybody, like a house listing come to life. His marble counters are always empty, his cabinets always closed and organized. His books are always alphabetized and the stack of art books on his coffee table has never been touched. All of the bedrooms look like they belong in a hotel. The bathrooms look like they belong in a museum.

Jungkook’s house has never felt like a home but then again, neither has yours.

Still, if you had to choose between living in your abandoned shack at the edge of town or living in an enormous penthouse in the center of the city, you would never look back at that old, dilapidated building. The difference between you and Jungkook is that Jungkook chooses to live in this tragically empty place.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand Jungkook’s life. Not just the technicalities of the company he runs, the economics and business that he has spent his whole life mastering, but also the way he sees the world in terms of money and power, how everything has some sort of value, even people. Even you. His biggest concern has always been himself. How much money he has matters, how many investments his company owns matters, how the public views him matters. He has spent so long crafting this perfect image of himself that he’s willing to spend as much money as necessary to maintain it.

Jungkook doesn’t even look at the total on the card reader when he purchases things. He simply tugs his silver card out of a sleek black wallet and swipes, crumpling the receipt up in his hand before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. He comes back home to a gigantic penthouse with a gym and his pool and more bedrooms than he can count on both hands, to a personal chef in his kitchen making him five-star meals to last him the rest of the week.

Money is never on his mind, but it is always on yours.

When will you get enough to pay off your phone bill, will you ever be able to afford a repairman to fix the broken, exposed lightbulb above the back door, how many Campbell’s soups can you buy and still have enough funds to last you until the next day? What if, God forbid, the city comes knocking on your door and either evicts you or orders you to pay up for the three years you’ve been living in that house, rent-free? What will you do then?

Life is by no means easy for either of you, but Jeon Jungkook has never had to want for anything. If it isn’t handed to him, he works for it himself. If he can’t buy it, he’ll just make more money. If he doesn’t already own it, what’s stopping him?

People dream of having Jungkook’s life. People fear having yours.

Alone in Jungkook’s apartment, the differences between the two of you have never been clearer.

Your greatest fear is the fact that, in the past few weeks you have spent here, you are already becoming used to it. You are dreading going back to where you were before, stealing money from people off of the streets and living in a house in such disrepair that local nons think that it’s haunted. You fear that you will never want to leave.

It’s such a terrifying feeling, isn’t it? Becoming attached to something. Feeling as though your life will be worse without it. Knowing that your life will be worse without it.

There are parts of you that make you wish that life wasn’t so unfair.

The living room is three times the size of the dining room but you hate eating there, sitting at an empty table with no one to talk to but suede chairs, reminding you that you don’t even have any friends to invite anyway. At least in the living room you can sit on the couch and watch television and pretend that you have at least some semblance of a life.

You pick at a pre-made salad that has too much lettuce and not enough everything else—Jungkook needs a new chef, you decide, plucking out all of the croutons and slices of cheddar cheese, when the front door swings open, slamming against the wall adjacent to it as Jungkook storms inside.

“Oh my God, what happened to you?” You exclaim, eyes practically bulging out of your head as you jump off of the couch. Even from here, you can see the dark bruising around Jungkook’s eye, purple and blue, the busted up knuckles clenched around the bag he’s carrying. There’s even a small streak of blood on his upper left cheek, already beginning to scab.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he says, wiping away the blood on his lip with the back of his hand.

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, rushing up to meet him in the middle of the foyer, standing in front of him as you look up at his face with wide eyes. He waits there patiently, avoiding your gaze, steely eyes looking elsewhere, as you reach up to hold his head in your hands, tilting it from side to side. “What happened to you?”

“Some dudes jumped me in the parking lot on the way back,” Jungkook says casually. You’d almost believe he didn’t feel anything if he doesn’t wince when you press a gentle fingertip along the bruise on his jawline. He meets your frightened expression and smirks wickedly, something glinting in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I got ‘em good.”

“Are you alright?” You ask him, even though it’s obvious he’s not. “You aren’t seriously injured or anything, are you?”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a sigh, even as he obeys your movements and moves his body pliantly to the feeling of your hands pressing against his skin. Most of the visible damage seems to be to his face and hands, and quite frankly, you’re not exactly sure if you want to see what’s underneath his dress shirt. “I’m strong. I work out and eat healthy and everything. I’ll be better in no time.”

“No, are you kidding?” You say, reaching out to grab his hand without a second thought, pulling him towards the nearest bathroom. “You can’t just leave it like this. Here, let me heal you.”

“I don’t need you to patch me up or anything,” Jungkook resists, frowning as you sit him down on the edge of the bathtub and begin to fish through his bathroom cabinets. “First aid isn’t in that one.”

“No, you idiot,” you chide him. “I’m not gonna patch you up. Aren’t you forgetting that I’m a healer?”

“So what are you gonna do, then?”

You finally find the first aid kit and pull it out, revealing rolls of gauze and bottles of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant. There’s even a couple of rows of Ibuprofen. “Well, you should be patched up anyway,” you decide, turning back to look at Jungkook’s face as he waits obediently on the edge of the tub. “But I can heal you faster than what time and medicine can do on their own.”

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says softly.

“Please, of course I do,” you reply instantly. You’re not gonna let Jungkook walk around like that. “We can’t have your pretty face all messed up, now can we?”

Jungkook cracks a small smile but it’s obvious that the simple gesture alone pains him, making him wince slightly as his lips turn upwards. You wet a face cloth with cold water and press it against Jungkook’s bruises, looking intently at his features as you move the cloth around, letting the cold water draw out the heat that sizzles beneath his skin. Jungkook watches you the whole time, his eyes never leaving yours, even as your brows furrow in concentration, determined to fix Jungkook back up so he’s brand new. Slowly, the bruises begin to fade, going from an angry violet to a light lavender, and then to a pink that could almost be mistaken for a heavy blush.

It feels weird, knowing that he’s right there. Knowing that he’s watching you, eyes following yours as they scan his face. His clean-cut jawline is a little swollen, perfect skin angry and marked, but his eyes are still the same. Still wide and bright, like a young child, like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time. They look almost caramel in the yellow light of the bathroom, flecks of gold to mirror the accents in the room.

There’s something about them that makes you not want to turn away.

When the bruises have faded, leaving only petal pink remnants along his skin, you move onto the small cut along his cheek. It’s rough and jagged, like the skin had been torn right through, a nick from a fingernail or a knuckle. It’s not long, but it is somewhat deep. You imagine it might scar permanently.

Kneeling down in front of him, you pull out some rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, dabbing a gentle amount onto the round before moving closer, holding his head in your hand as you reach out.

“This might sting,” you say, like he doesn’t already know.

“That’s alright,” Jungkook tells you. “Fix me up, doctor.”

At his cue, you softly press the cotton pad against the scab, rubbing away at it until it comes off cleanly, leaving only fresh, exposed skin behind. For wounds like these, a cloth won’t do. Your mother used to tell you that healing didn’t come from your hands, it came from your heart. That even if your fingertips had the magic, it was your heart that had the power to wield it.

Slowly, you rest your palm against his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the cut. Jungkook blinks, big eyes shimmering, as you do so, and you feel trapped in his gaze. Like you couldn’t turn away even if you tried. Like you almost wouldn’t want to. His skin is baby soft, perfect, a far cry from the calloused pads of your fingertips, worn from so many days and nights out on the streets.

There is magic in your fingertips, surely, but there is something different in your heart. Something that you don’t think you have the words to explain.

The cut seals up instantly, the skin patching over itself until nothing is left but a mark, a little scar that will stay there forever. And yet, you stay there, locked in his magnetic pull, like tearing away will hurt you rather than him. The cut is healed, and his bruises are fading, and there is no reason to stay like this.

And yet.

“There,” you whisper, watching the words appear between the two of you, lingering like ghosts. “All better.”

Jungkook grins. It doesn’t hurt him, but something in you feels a sharp jolt, an ache. Like a spark in the pit of your belly. Like magic in your veins.

Jungkook has been tearing his hair out over this one manila folder in front of him for the past twenty minutes. Every ten seconds he writes something down before scribbling it out, the ink bleeding through the paper to the next one. He flips through the files relentlessly, carelessly, until they’re all out of order and splayed all over his desk. He’s instructed the guard outside not to let anyone in, even if it’s some sort of emergency.

You’ve seen Jungkook at work a lot, but you’ve never seen him like this. Even his anguished sighs are difficult to listen to.

Creeping over to the wall that overlooks the rest of the office, Venetian blinds shielding the both of you from view, you crack open a slat, peeking out at everyone else. None of them pay any attention to Jungkook’s office, too busy worrying about the next report they have to complete and all of the office meetings they have to attend, so you take it as a good opportunity to turn visible. Just for a little bit.

“You alright?” You ask, nearly making Jungkook fall out of his seat at the sound of your voice.

“What?” He asks, surprised. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“What’s the matter?” You ask, because you’ve never seen Jungkook as stressed out as he is now. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to organize this new collective to monitor our investing habits so we can assess where investments need to be divvied up into in order for clients to find us worth of their own investments as opposed to other companies,” Jungkook explains, though he sounds positively exhausted while doing so, like the very mention of what he’s slaving over is enough to send him over the edge. “But no one can agree on how we can use this information to promote this company to our clients and the public. People invest in both of us either way.”

“You want people to invest more money in your company, don’t you?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, yeah.”

“How much money does this company give to small businesses? To nonprofits and charity?”

Jungkook frowns, scrunching up his nose as he thinks. He clicks around on his computer for a few seconds before saying, “About five percent.”

“And your investments are public, correct?”

“Yes.” Jungkook nods.

“You should be giving way more than five percent of this company’s investments to small, local businesses and charity,” you tell Jungkook, already worming your way behind his desk to look at what he’s looking at. You point to the numbers on his screen, single-digit percentages, some even less than one, being sent to local businesses, nonprofits, and charities. “Look at this. Ninety-five of your investments go right into stocks. If you invested more money into nonprofits and local businesses, people would see you taking the time to help boost the local economy and the organizations that serve it for free. Then, those businesses would invest in you in return, and clients would see that you’re investing in noble causes and give you more money as a thanks, which can then be funnelled back to small businesses and nonprofits.”

It’s a rather roundabout sort of proposal and you’re almost positive that it has no real footing anywhere in real economics and finance, but it makes sense to you. If you had money to invest in major companies, you would choose the ones that invest in the things that will benefit you, like local businesses and nonprofits. If you saw that the companies you were giving money to were simply giving it away to the stock market, you’d pull your money out.

You know that the stock market is nothing but the world’s biggest economic gamble, but that doesn’t mean that you have to gamble with it. Companies that stand for what you stand for are much more appealing than companies with a bigger investment bank behind them.

You turn to Jungkook, who is squinting at his computer screen as he fumbles around with the numbers, flicking from Excel sheet to Excel sheet, bouncing back and forth between the information online and the files on top of his desk.

“Is that stupid?” You ask, breaking the silence. It’s not as if people know you for your groundbreaking economic policies.

Jungkook spares one more glance over all of his files, and turns up to look at you. “No,” he tells you with a shake of his head. “It’s not.”

“Really?” You’re actually impressed with yourself.

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees happily. “You’re right—I’d want to know that my investments were going to a company with good morals that lifts up local businesses. It would encourage me to invest more, too.”

“It’s not a very sound economic theory…” You admit. Jungkook’s probably seasoned in how investments and the stock markets work, charts upon charts of client behavior that shapes the way he organizes his company. And you? You don’t have enough money to even buy food some days.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jungkook assures you. “Theory is total bullshit anyway, because nobody can predict what will happen with the economy. But human nature has always been reliably good. People like to know that their money is going to a good cause.”

“So, it helps?” You ask with a smile.

Jungkook nods. “It does. It’s actually a great idea, Y/N. You might have a future in business.”

You scoff. “Me? I don’t know the first thing about this stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to. You’re a good person who thinks about everyone, Y/N. That’s why you’d be good at business. Because your clients can trust you, and you’ll actually put your money where your mouth is.”

“I guess,” you say unhelpfully. Just because you think about others doesn’t make you especially remarkable. It makes you human. Isn’t that how everyone’s supposed to be? “I just don’t think about clients and money like you do. Money’s always been really valuable to me, since I’ve never had much of it, but you guys see it as expendable. I need to know where my money goes, I don’t want to see it just vanish into the hands of someone else.” Jungkook’s nodding along, eyes looking intently at your own, like he’s committing the words you say to his memory. “I just think that people and companies with tons of money have a duty to give back to those who are less fortunate. That’s all.”

“That’s noble of you,” Jungkook says.

“It’s just common sense,” you explain. “Why wouldn’t you want to do something like that?”

Jungkook heaves a sigh, a long, winded sort of one, like there’s a whole conversation behind it that he wishes he could have with you. But instead, he just shakes his head, a fond smile lacing its way across his features. He chuckles to himself. “Maybe you aren’t cut out for business after all, Y/N,” he tells you softly. “You have too big a heart.”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe you’re too kind, too generous, to ever make it in business. To succeed without losing every penny to your name.

But if that’s the case, then where does Jungkook stand?

When Jungkook stays at work late, the two of you eat dinner together.

There’s just something so demoralizing about coming back to an empty house, letting the hollow sound of the door slamming shut echo throughout the room, and then marching off in different directions to spend the rest of the night alone. When it’s dark, and late, and you’re starving, it’s all you can do not to beg Jungkook to eat with you. Even if in silence.

By the time you get home, your stomach is just about ready to consume the art books sitting in a neat stack at the top right corner of the coffee table. You begin to clear off some space for the both of you to eat as Jungkook heads towards the refrigerator, when not three seconds after, you hear him swear, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s the matter?” You call out.

“We’re out of premade meals!” Jungkook shouts back. What? You could have sworn there were at least two full tupperwares still available. Actually, maybe you had eaten them for lunch…

“Really?” You get up from the coffee table and make your way into the kitchen, where Jungkook is standing in front of a refrigerator with the entire middle section wiped clean, empty shelves mocking the both of you as you glare at them. “Oh, wow. Really.”

“I didn’t know we ate that much,” Jungkook comments, shocked at the sight before him.

“What are we gonna do?” You ask. You’re hungry.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook says with a laugh. He kneels down and begins to pull vegetables from the drawers, plucking different bottles from inside the fridge door and plastic cartons from the top shelves, the ones that you never dare touch. “We’ll cook something, obviously.”

“Can’t we just order takeout?”

“You don’t wanna cook something with me?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide and pouty. You shake your head guiltily. Is ordering a pizza really so much to ask? Jungkook narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, a grin pulling at his lips, before he nods knowingly. “Oh, I get it.”

“Get what?” You challenge.

“You don’t know how to cook.”

“What? I know how to cook!” You cry out, aghast. True, your past meals have mostly involved warming food up in the microwave, but that counts, in your book. Jungkook frowns in disbelief. “I know how to use a microwave.”

Jungkook tosses his head back and laughs, this warm, hearty sound filling up the kitchen, before he starts placing all of the containers and bottles and vegetables he pulled out from the fridge onto the counter. “Okay, we’re going to make something together.”

“Seriously?” You say, borderline whining. “Can’t you just do it?”

“No,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “because you have to help me. Kitchen’s orders.”

“You’re the kitchen!”

“Exactly,” Jungkook says, smiling to himself. He pulls out some more ingredients from the cabinets, hands deftly reaching for the exact ones he wants, until you have a collection of food, seasonings, and sauces on the countertop, and an apparent recipe to be made.

“What are we making?” You ask, looking down at everything on the counter. All of these things can’t go into one dish… can they?

“An old family recipe,” Jungkook says. “Kimchi jjigae. It’s kimchi stew.”

“Is it easy?”

Jungkook grins something wicked, something devilish. “It’s fun.”

He sets out to put a pot on the stove, turning the gas on, bouncing back and forth between the stovetop and the counter as you stand there like a floundering fish, waiting for him to either give you an instruction or do everything himself.

“Can you cut the green onions?” Jungkook asks as he adds water and what looks to be tiny little fish to the pot, reaching behind his back to gesture wildly at the ingredients sitting on the marble.

“Which are those?” You scan the countertop. Your familiarity with food and recipes extends about as far as anything non-perishable that comes in a tin can. Never in your life have you seen so much laid out in front of you, all meant to go into the same meal.

The metal lid clinks as Jungkook covers the pot to boil, turning around to join you at the counter, where you wait awkwardly in front of an unused chopping board, no knife in sight.

“These,” he says, reaching over you to pull up several stalks of something that looks similar to the wild onions that grow in your backyard. He fishes through the drawers before he pulls out a kitchen knife, gently placing it in your hand as he moves around to grab all of the other ingredients he needs for the boiling water on the stovetop.

Hesitantly, you line up the onions and begin to chop, carefully sawing through each one until it comes cleanly off of the stalk. It’s awfully time-consuming, especially since Jungkook seems to have already made the stock base in the time it’s taken you to cut one. Nevertheless, you persist, because Jungkook wants these to go in the pot, and you refuse to be seen as incompetent in the kitchen, especially when Jungkook seems to be rather proficient when it comes to cooking despite the fact that a chef makes the majority of his meals for him.

Old family recipes die hard, you suppose.

Jungkook turns around to check on you and grab a small red container of what looks to be some sort of spicy pepper paste. When he sees you carefully slicing through each onion stalk, he laughs.

“Hey, what are you laughing at?” You say, pouting. You don’t think you’re doing a terrible job, even if you are a bit slow.

“You,” Jungkook says with a grin, not even bothering to think of something else to say instead. “Here, let me show you.”

He comes to stand behind you, his torso pressing against your back, as he reaches his arms around you, hands gently resting atop your own. There is something in the way his breath hits your skin, tickles the part right behind your ear that’s always been sensitive, how he leans down to look over your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest against you. Something strange and foreign and calming, like when you tense up right before you fall asleep.

Frozen, you watch with nervous eyes as he holds your hand in his own, grasping onto the knife. He stacks a few onion stalks next to each other on top of the cutting board and slowly begins to cut—thin, quick slices until he develops a rhythm, an imaginary beat to the drumming of his heart, to the pounding of your own.

The seconds seem to drag on for eternity, as if every cut through the vegetable is done in slow-motion, like time has slowed down just for the two of you. His breath tickles your skin, hot and tingly and filled with fire, lighting sparks everywhere it touches. You think that, if you concentrate hard enough, you can hear the way his heart thumps like a bass drum, ringing in your ears. Or maybe that’s just you.

When four green onion stalks have been cut down to their very tips, suddenly the world speeds up, like the breaths that have slowly been leaving your lips come out all at once, like your heart picks up time to a universal metronome, desperate to realign itself once more.

“There,” Jungkook murmurs from behind you. The words are soft and distant, almost like someone else had uttered them. “All done.”

You blame the tears welling in your eyes on the onions.

Thirty minutes and an overwhelming amount of slicing different ingredients later, there is a boiling pot of kimchi stew on the stove, steaming up the inside of the glass lid that Jungkook has placed on top to keep it warm. He’s big on optimizing the time spent in the kitchen, cleaning up everything before you eat, stuffing all of the used plates and bowls and knives into the sink as they come, wrapping up the vegetables in the thin plastic bags that they came in and putting them back into the fridge. Jungkook says it’s because he doesn’t like having to clean the kitchen up after he’s eaten. You think it’s because he thinks you’ll run off and leave him to do all the work.

You, admittedly, don’t make your own meals very often (or at all), but you can see the appeal. There’s something different about food that you make yourself, food that you turned from ingredients to a meal. Something rewarding.

Or maybe it’s just because Jungkook did most of the cooking, and he’s got this inexplicable magic touch.

“Good, right?” He asks when you’re finished, the both of you heading back to the kitchen to wash up the last of your dishes.

“It was okay,” you tease, even though your empty bowl says otherwise. There’s not a drop of soup, a scrap of food left inside of it, just an orange ring around the inside from the kimchi color.

“Okay, Miss ‘Okay’,” Jungkook says, placing his bowl gently into the sink. “Hand me your thing, I’ll finish washing up.”

“You sure?” You ask. You feel like you’ve contributed absolutely nothing to the making of this dish. Not cooking it, not putting away the ingredients or washing the pot, nothing. The least you could do is clean up a couple of your bowls. Or put them in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says, hand already latching onto it. “Takes two minutes.”

“Okay,” you tell him, watching the bowls fill with soap as his big hands scrub away the remnants of a very delicious meal.

You linger in the kitchen. Despite not really having anything else to do, you don’t want to go back to your room, or curl away in some corner of the apartment where Jungkook can’t find you. You’re finally spending time together. Isn’t that what you wanted?

“It was pretty good,” you add on belatedly, when Jungkook is just drying his hands on the dish towel. There’s a precarious stack of dishes, utensils, and pots on the drying rack, like adding one more chopstick will send the whole thing tumbling down, but Jungkook isn’t worried about it at all. Even though he likes cleaning stuff up, he doesn’t like putting it away.

“Aha!” Jungkook shouts, pointing at you accusingly. “I knew you would like it.”

“You’re a good chef,” you tell him. Maybe kimchi jjigae is the only thing he’s good at making, but rather be a master of one than a jack of all trades but master of none. Though, you have to admit that Jungkook is a master of several trades, none of which you think you could ever do. “You should cook more.”

“I wish,” Jungkook says with a sigh. The two of you have retired to the leather couch, the conversation drifting away from the kitchen and towards the sofas. When he collapses on the cushions, he relaxes, like the feeling is sucking out all of the tension in his body. “Every time I get back from work, I’m so drained and exhausted. I just want to go to sleep.”

“You weren’t tired tonight,” you point out.

“No,” Jungkook says. The words are distant and faintly register in his mind, almost like the realization has just dawned on him for the first time, “I wasn’t.”

“Is there something else you wanna do?” You ask, not feeling particularly lethargic either. Normally, you’d spend the rest of the night raiding the rest of Jungkook’s amenities, watching old shows on his television or taking a bath until your body looks like a raisin. Something you can do by yourself, something that you’d want to do by yourself to make up for the fact that Jungkook doesn’t ever want to do anything with you. Watching him at work is getting less boring, because you’re actually starting to interact, but at home, you go right back to square one. Or, you did. “Watch a movie, or anything?”

“Nah, I’m alright,” Jungkook shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. You watch him as he chews the inside of his cheek, finger tracing over the scar that’s been left from that night, the night you patched him up. You’re a healer, but some things are meant to leave marks. You almost think that Jungkook is going to up and leave, heave himself off of the floor and spend the rest of the night alone in his bedroom, but then, he turns to you and he asks, “How often do you heal people?”

“I haven’t in a while,” you admit. Not because the opportunity has never presented itself, but you never had anyone to heal. “I used to when I was a kid, a lot. You know, scraped knees and paper cuts.”

“What about you?” Jungkook asks. “Do you have to heal yourself as well?”

“No,” you explain, “healers’ bodies heal by themselves.” It’s why, whenever you get back to your shack after crashing into a tree on the sidewalk that you hadn’t spotted, or stubbed your toe on the leg of a table, or pulled a muscle from stretching too far, you let yourself rest, and your body does the work for you. “But healing isn’t… it isn’t something I do very often. I turn invisible much more.”

“I can tell,” Jungkook muses. “But you’ve been invisible around me so much that it feels like I can still see you.”

“That’s because I’m always in your office when I’m invisible,” you point out. Jungkook knows you’re there because you wouldn’t be anywhere else. Where would you even go, when the whole point is to watch him? “In a place like this, there is no way you would be able to find me.”

“You wanna bet?”

“You know what, yes, I do,” you say, because Jungkook can’t possibly think his human-snuffing skills are as good as yours. Especially when the only person he’s trying to find is invisible. “You think you’re such a hotshot, hmm? Try and find me, then.”

“First floor only,” Jungkook rules. “And, when I do, I get to turn something.”

“Fine,” you agree, only because you know that that’s not going to happen. “One thing. That’s strike two, though.”

“You won’t tell,” Jungkook chides, eyes narrowed.

“Will I?”

“Twenty seconds!” Jungkook says, already beginning to count down. “Nineteen, eighteen—!”

You turn invisible at once, not wasting a second, scurrying off down one of the hallways. There are plenty of places to hide in Jungkook’s house, from the walk-in closets in every bedroom to the one-foot-tall gap underneath every bed. But you won’t go for one of those, because Jungkook expects you to. He’s going to hunt around his entire house, looking in all of the nooks and crannies, the armoires and cabinets and cubbyholes, because he thinks that that’s where you’ll be hiding. But the truth is that there is no way that Jungkook will be able to find you when he can’t see you, because he doesn’t know what he’ll be looking for.

So, you pick the second-to-last bedroom down the hall, and you wait. You’d sit down on the mattress, but Jungkook easily be able to spot a dip in the comforter, so you stand, right next to the door, holding your breath. If Jungkook really does think he can sense your presence, or whatever psychic nonsense he’s on about, then he should have no problem finding you.

You hear Jungkook’s voice echoing down the hallway, a sickly sweet singsong as he walks into every room.

“Y/N…” He calls out, like a ghost in a horror movie. “Where are you?”

From your angle, you can peer down the corridor, watch as he trickles in and out of each room after five minutes, no doubt searching through every one with both of his arms out, desperate to crash into you. Good thing you’re standing, otherwise Jungkook might accidentally elbow you. Slowly, he makes his way out of the room right before yours, casually walking towards you. You suck in a quick breath, holding yourself perfectly still.

“Are you here?” Jungkook flips his head around the doorframe, a foot away from where you’re standing. He isn’t looking right at you, thank God, otherwise you think you might just burst into laughter. “Hmm, I think you are.”

He begins to walk around the room, one hand tracing over the quilted pattern on the comforter, the other reaching out, grabbing fistfuls of air. He looks like someone’s blocked his vision, wandering around aimlessly as he tries to find something to cling onto. You bite your lip, refusing to laugh and give yourself away as he makes his way into the bathroom, singing your name like a chant, a curse to be laid upon you. When he obviously has no luck, he returns to the bedroom, eyes narrowed, as if that will better help his vision.

You don’t think you’ve ever held your breath for this long, lungs about to burst, but you can’t let Jungkook find you. There’s more than just your powers on the line, and his reward. There’s your pride, and his massive ego that you refuse to stroke. The fact that he looks absolutely ridiculous is also doing nothing to aid you, but giving yourself up would be a metaphorical death sentence.

Jungkook has one foot out of the door, already heading towards the last bedroom in the hallway, when you crack. You sputter out a half-breath, this miniscule exhale, and he stops in his tracks, turning around. You freeze up, hoping that maybe Jungkook will just think it was a trick of his own ears.

“Y/N?” He taunts. He looks around the room again, trying to see if the wind is blowing a different way, if there is something different. He almost doesn’t notice you.

Almost.

You turn in shock when Jungkook reaches a hand out, his fingers pinching at your lower torso, shrieking as you practically topple over, Jungkook’s arms the only things that prevent you from diving head first onto the floor. He encases you in his hold as you sink to the floor in defeat, laughing as he follows you, one arm holding your waist as the other wraps around your back. He chuckles to himself while you curl up in shame, desperate not to meet your eyes. Your skin sizzles where his fingers had touched it, like oil in a pan after it’s been taken off of the stove, like the remnants of a flame, embers left to burn into ashes. It feels like your body is on fire.

“Found you,” Jungkook teases, but it’s soft and sweet and fond. “I told you, I just know.”

“You just heard me breathe,” you defend yourself, because the former is impossible to accept.

“Whatever you want to say to make yourself feel better.” He grins, cheeky and prideful, making you shove his head away with the palm of your hand.

“Fine, whatever,” you say, resigning yourself to the fact that you lost this round. “What do you want to turn? The bed frame? The door knob? That really ugly pot in the living room?”

“Hey, that pot isn’t ugly,” Jungkook exclaims. You frown at him. “Okay, it’s only a little bit ugly.”

“For someone with so much money, you sure don’t have the best taste,” you tell him, even though everything else in his house reads expensive like nothing else. That pot is just weirdly out-of-place. “Maybe the gold will make it look better.”

“What’s this?” Jungkook asks, reaching a hand out from behind you to toy at the bracelet on your wrist, this silver chain with a couple of charms dangling from it. It’s rusted beyond belief, from rain, from humidity, from wear, but you refuse to take it off, even when it loses what’s left of its shimmer, even when the silver fades to a scratchy red iron.

“An old bracelet,” you say, fingers instinctively making to play with it, rubbing away at the metal. “From my mom.”

“You wear it every day,” Jungkook notices.

“I never take it off,” you say.

“It’s pretty,” Jungkook tells you, and you know that he isn’t just saying that. That he means it, despite its abysmal condition. The years have not been kind to it, but then again, they haven’t been very kind to you either. “It must be really special.”

“It is.” You shuffle the bracelet around so that all five of the charms are in view. “She would buy a new charm every year for my birthday.”

“I like this one,” Jungkook says, pointing to the milk carton charm. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah…” you trail off. The bracelet isn’t much, but it’s all you have left of a childhood that you had been robbed of. You had to grow up too fast, that you know, but at least this bracelet reminds you that you are never too old for your memories.

“Can I turn it?” Jungkook asks. It’s as if you can see the words leave his lips, resting in front of you, waiting for your response.

You turn around to face him, eyes wide. Your hand goes to rest atop the bracelet protectively, the idea of letting someone else touch it almost unfathomable.

“You can say no,” Jungkook quickly stammers out, face beet red. “It was just—you wear it so much, and it looks like the silver is fading, so I was thinking maybe the gold would… fix it up a bit, or something. Make it look new again. Ignore me, you don’t have to say yes, it was just a suggestion.”

Your fingers drop into your lap as you look at him, expression softening. Here, in this unused guest bedroom, Jungkook looks nervous, lost, stumbling over his own words like he isn’t sure of himself anymore. He looks away from you, eyes already beginning to scan the room for something else to turn instead, doubtful you would even agree to such a wild request. It is your bracelet, after all. Why would he do something like that for you?

“You want to?” You ask him, hopeful and wishing.

Jungkook nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “I do.”

“Then you can,” you say, holding out your wrist to him, the charms dangling over your laps. “Please.”

Jungkook’s shocked that you even said yes, but he scrambles to twist you around, moving your bodies so you aren’t pressed against each other like two peas squished inside of a pod. In this new position, you’re facing each other, staring right at each other as Jungkook reaches out a tentative hand, delicate fingers padding against your wrist. He breathes, and so do you, because you’ve gotten so used to the way this bracelet has looked, so familiar with every rust and crack and dent, knowing that it has remained unchanged for years.

But this isn’t a change. It’s a rebirth. It’s something different, something fresh, something to remind you that not all is lost. That old memories can become new once more.

Slowly, as Jungkook presses soft fingertips against the metal, sparks fly. A golden sheen wraps around the bracelet, inch by inch, leaving behind this unmistakeable shimmer, glinting in the sunlight. You can’t tear your eyes away, watching the magic unfold in real time, the silver vanishing before you. The gold consumes it, erasing all of the rust, the wear and tear, until it looks brand new.

Your mother would have loved it.

“Is that strike two?” Jungkook asks, a cherry red blush decorating his cheeks.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, not caring if it’s strike two or strike two hundred. Your fingers press against the metal, smooth and shiny, the bumpy texture gone. It must be worth thousands, now. But to you, it is priceless. “It’s beautiful.”

Jungkook nods, and you can distantly feel the weight of his gaze on you.

“I know,” he says.

You can’t sleep.

You’ve slept better here than you have for the past three years of your life. At this point, sleeping on cement would be more comfortable than your bed back at your own house, but here, the soft, plush mattress takes away all of the exhaustion that manifests itself in you throughout the day. Not to mention the fact that for the first time in over a decade, you finally have a normal routine, an internal clock to direct your body, rather than the other way around. There is something soothing in knowing exactly what the next day will bring. Something that doesn’t keep you up with worry.

But tonight, you are wide awake.

The golden bracelet on your wrist clinks against itself as you sit up, rubbing at the gunk that’s collected in your eyes. You’ve been keenly aware of its existence on your wrist much more in the past several days, ever since Jungkook turned it from its previous faded silver, fingers instinctively toying with it whenever there’s nothing on your mind—and even when there is.

What you fear most is the fact that you feel as though you are relying on Jungkook to be there more and more, counting on the fact that you know he will be by your side no matter where you are, no matter what you do. You are relying on him to be there, on his house to be there, shaping the way that you run your life based on the belief that at the end of the day, he will be asleep under the same roof as you.

You pull yourself out of bed. Maybe a night spent alone will remind you of the days where you would watch the moon move across the sky, sitting underneath trees and counting the stars that you can see. Remind you that no matter what, the moon will always be there for you, too. Remind you that this, all of it, is temporary.

You know that you aren’t allowed to go up to the second floor of Jungkook’s apartment, and that you’ve never been solely because Jungkook requested that you stay downstairs, a promise you have kept throughout the weeks. But there must be some appeal to the rooftop, you think, because Jungkook never comes downstairs whenever he’s having a restless night. Besides, it’s not as if you have any plans to go into his bedroom.

Softly, you creep upstairs, hand dragging along the golden rail, feet leaving creases in the carpet. The top of the stairs opens up into a general hallway, a dark wooden door undoubtedly leading towards his bedroom, while the walls on the other side turn to glass, leading towards the pool. You tiptoe down the hallway, making sure to avoid making too much noise by Jungkook’s bedroom door, passing by the gym that Jungkook must use all of the time, whenever he’s not around to bother you. The glass door at the end of the hallway must exit out to the pool, so you twist the doorknob and push it open, the cool summer atmosphere hitting you like a breath of fresh air.

All of the lights are on outside, this soft white that reflects off of the metal railing and the pool water, crashing in waves against the tiled edges. You think it’s just for show, like how people leave their Christmas lights on twenty-four hours a day, visible through their windows, but then you round the corner and see him.

Jungkook sits along the edge of the water, legs swishing around in the pool, as he looks up at the sky. The summer breeze blows through his hair, messy and loose, the way it looks right when he gets out of the shower, before he puts any product into it. Whatever he’s playing with in his hand glints in the lights, that distinctive yellow glow. It must be a coin or something, something small, something to keep his fingers occupied.

“Are we considering that strike three?”

He whips around when he hears your voice, hears the way the pool water carries it across to him.

“I thought you promised never to come up here,” he muses back.

“Then I guess maybe both of us can be forgiven,” you suggest.

You amble over to him, crouching down to dip your feet in as well. You seat yourself along the edge of the pool beside him as the water sloshes around, the sensation sending shivers down your spine despite the humidity in the air.

“Can’t sleep?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “My body’s tired but my mind isn’t.”

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the coin in his hand. It isn’t a form of currency that you recognize, certainly nothing used here.

“A family heirloom,” Jungkook tells you, holding it out for you to see. It’s covered in a thin layer of cold but you think that you can make out some sort of crest, an emblem or insignia above the coat of arms. “Apparently it had been stolen from someone of royalty or high status back in the day. My family turned it into gold and made it ten times more valuable.”

“Oh, but I pickpocket a few people and suddenly I get sentenced by the Realm to be a minder, I see how it is,” you joke, rolling your eyes. Your eyes glaze over the crest, tracing the lines of a lion, a spear, a shield. It must mean something to someone, but to you and Jungkook, it could be anything.

“Hey, but being my minder hasn’t been terrible, has it?” Jungkook asks, mockingly offended. His lips curl down into a pout as he looks at you, a hand on his heart like it’s been punctured by your words.

“It’s…” You begin. You suppose that it hasn’t been terrible. In the beginning, it was positively nightmarish, left you feeling like there was no way you would ever complete your sentence. Now, there’s this weird, hidden part of you that doesn’t want to leave. The part of you that has become attached to this world, this lifestyle. The part of you that relies on there being another person in your life to be with. “It’s not that bad.”

“You know what, I’ll take it.” Jungkook grins. “Even though I know you secretly love me.”

You give Jungkook a shove, pushing him on his side. “You wish.”

He laughs, pulling himself back up off of the cement, knocking his shoulder into yours. “I know that we both kind of didn’t have a choice in any of this,” he tells you, looking up at the stars, watching their faint light, twinkling from millions of light years away. “But I think I really needed you here.”

“Oh, now he admits he needs a minder,” you say sarcastically, flinging your arms out in front of you.

Jungkook chuckles. “I didn’t realize I turned so much until you forced me to stop cold turkey.”

You nod. The truth is, you can’t blame Jungkook for his turning habits. You can’t blame him for living the way that he lives, when it’s the only thing he’s ever known. When the two most important adults in his life turn like wildfire, when they taught him everything he knows. But Jungkook is his own person, now, not a product of his parents, anymore. He has his own choices to make. He can become whoever he wants to be.

He has become someone he wants to be.

Jungkook’s magic habits aren’t any fault of his own as much as yours aren’t, either. They were born out of ignorance, out of necessity. Out of the fact that neither of you have ever known a world where you didn’t have powers, where you didn’t feel as though you needed to use them. You couldn’t imagine not having your magic. You know that Jungkook feels the same.

“Why did you?” It’s as if the words don’t even belong to you. Like someone else has spoken them—the moon, the sky, the stars.

Jungkook purses his lips, and sighs. “It was all I had ever known.”

Jungkook grew up drunk on his powers. You wonder if he’s sobered up now.

(You wonder if you had anything to do with it.)

“When I was little, my parents gave me that whole ‘you’re different, and that makes you special’ talk. They told me that my powers were valuable. A gift. And that people with gifts like mine must never waste them. That if we had been given this magic, we ought to use it, right? So that’s what I did. God, every day I would turn a new toy gold, and then I would get another one to replace it, and I would turn that one gold, too. My parents probably sold that to our banks, another hundred thousand dollars into their pockets,” Jungkook says, forcing out a laugh at the memory. The thought is rather endearing, when you think about it. Little Jungkook turning a stuffed bear gold, crying when it isn’t soft and fuzzy anymore.

“And my parents encouraged me. They told me that I was doing the right thing, that I wasn’t letting my gift go to waste. You saw them that evening that they came over. They were turning things gold left and right. Things that I had wanted to stay their natural material. Like that bowl for my keys. Do you know how easily gold is scratched?” He exclaims, gesturing frantically in front of him. “I purposefully kept that as the clay it was made out of. And now it’s gold.”

“A modern day crisis,” you joke.

“I guess…” Jungkook begins, but the words trail off and he pauses, almost like nothing he says will be correct. “I guess I just never knew the difference between not wanting my magic to be in vain, and not wanting to ever stop using it. Like you. You only heal when you need to. And even then, you don’t treat it like this precious gift. You treat it like something you owe to others.”

“That’s because without other people to heal, my power is useless,” you explain. Being able to heal others has no direct benefit for you. It doesn’t make you stronger, or faster, or better. It is a gift that is meant to be shared. “It’s different.”

“Every time I turn something, I feel like shit afterwards,” Jungkook admits to you. “Like I’ve turned so many things, that I don’t have the right to do it anymore. Like I’ve exhausted my magic.”

“You feel guilty,” you explain to him, resting a hand on top of his own, his fingers losing their grip on the coin he’s been tossing between them. “And that’s okay,” you tell him, meeting his eyes with your own. “Your parents are right—what you have, this power that you possess, it is a gift. It has made your life better in a way that nothing else could. But your fear of letting it go to waste, of not truly appreciating it for what it is, is a two-way street.”

Jungkook blinks at you, petal pink lips parted ever so slightly.

“Wasting a gift by never using it is the same as wasting it by overusing it, because it loses its specialness. When you turn things now, it doesn’t feel amazing or blessed or exciting, because it’s lost the ability to feel like that for you. It’s almost second-nature, at this point,” you say.

“Then what do I do?” He asks, feeling helpless. “How do I make it feel special again?”

You squeeze his hand in your own, making him look up at you, the pool water reflected in his big brown eyes, like a warm chocolate ocean. “You only use it on things that make you feel like a better person.” Things that make Jungkook feel special, as opposed to things that make his magic feel special. “Not just things that will put more money in your bank account, or things that will make your house decor nicer. Things that you really, truly care about.”

Jungkook’s eyes glance downward at something, but he nods. He breathes out this exhale, this heavy sort of breath, like he’s trying to reteach himself the things that make him tick. Things like alphabetized books, and homemade kimchi stew.

“Gifts like that only come once in a lifetime,” you say. “Remarkable things don’t happen to us all the time.” You know this, because it’s true. Because you’ve lived it.

Because in another life, in another universe, there is a you who can’t turn invisible, can’t heal people, and there is a Jungkook, too, one who can’t turn whatever he pleases into gold. And they would live their whole lives not knowing what it would be like to have these powers, to ease their way of life. And they would never meet each other, either. Too busy trapped on opposite sides of the world, too busy to worry about anybody but themselves.

“So we have to learn to treasure them.” It feels as though you’re drowning in him. Like you’re floundering, barely staying afloat. “We have to make sure that they always feel special to us.”

You curl your hand around his own, lacing your fingers together as your palms rest against each other’s. You watch as his gaze drifts down to where your hands are interlocked, a bridge between the two of you, a lifeline that connects the two lives you had lived without each other in them.

“Do you understand?” You ask. You can see the words as they appear, watch as they linger in between the two of you, hot summer breaths on a cool summer night.

He squeezes your hands together, and he smiles, warm and round and real. He looks at you, and he is there, he is sitting by your side. And he is beautiful and extraordinary and remarkable. And he says, “I’m starting to.”

You wake up the next morning to find a shimmering piece of parchment sitting on the dresser in your bedroom.

As declared by the Realm, its leaders, and its government, it reads,

The recipient, Y/N, has successfully completed her sentence of community service as mandated by the courts. She no longer needs to serve as the minder to Jeon Jungkook, and may return to her former residence.

Though the sentence has been carried out, The Realm, its leaders, and its government, reserves the right to re-charge the recipient for the crimes for which she had been originally tried should she commit them again. Should this instance occur, the option for community service will not be available.

We thank you for your service.

Oh.

Already?

It feels like you just started. Like it was only yesterday that you stormed up to the front door of Jungkook’s penthouse, watched as he crumpled up the parchment and tossed it into the bin. Like it was only yesterday you reappeared at his office, this time with a declaration that won’t be so easily destroyed.

You wonder why this one is all sparkly as well.

You don’t know exactly what prompted the end of your sentence, what duties you had somehow fulfilled to earn you your freedom. What is the Realm searching for? What data are they using to determine whether or not you have met your goal? It certainly couldn’t have just been the fact that Jungkook hasn’t turned in a while. Not turning is not the same as not wanting to turn.

So what changed?

You stare down at the parchment, each word leaving you more confused than the word before it.

It isn’t over already, is it?

Knowing that you are now free to return back to your own house means that your worst fear has been realized. You don’t want to.

You want to stay here, in Jungkook’s massive penthouse, relishing in the glory and wealth that comes alongside it. You want his chef to make pre-made meals for you and the extra kimchi stew he keeps in the fridge. You want Jungkook’s five thousand different streaming services and enough books to last you several lifetimes. You want the sense of normalcy that staying here has given you, the regular routine that you have so effortlessly fallen into. You want the late-night pool chats and rounds of hide-and-seek.

Why would you want to give up all that you have?

“You want fried or poached eggs?” Jungkook knocks on your closed bedroom door, tapping softly with his knuckles, already awake and ready to make breakfast.

“Either,” you tell him, glaring down at the parchment with furrowed brows. You’re too afraid to touch it, too afraid to even look at it any closer. Because that will make it real.

“Alright,” Jungkook calls. “It’ll be ready in ten! Got freshly-squeezed orange juice too!” You can hear his footsteps as he heads back down the corridor, the thump, thump, thump of his fuzzy slippers against the hardwood floor.

“Coming,” you say weakly, too focused on the glowing paper on the dresser.

Just because you can go back to your house doesn’t mean you have to. Just because you can go back to your old life, doesn’t mean you have to.

You grab the paper and stuff it in an old tote bag, covering it with old clothes, memories of the former world you lived in. Not anymore.

After all, isn’t this the life you’ve always dreamed of?

Kimchi stew is, as it stands, delicious, but it can’t be the only thing that the two of you ever cook together.

Jungkook does all of the grocery shopping, mostly because the both of you know that if you went out to the store with a list of ingredients, you would be lost for days searching for them. So when he returns home with three tote bags filled with ingredients, your mouth already starts to water.

“What are we making today, chef?” You ask, bounding into the kitchen as Jungkook begins to unpack.

“Another Korean recipe,” Jungkook says happily, pulling out a bright yellow pack of thin grey noodles. “Japchae!”

“Sounds delicious,” you say, though at this point he could make you microwave mac-and-cheese and you’d snarf it down like nothing else.

“You bet it is.” Jungkook grins, slowly dumping out the rest of the contents of the bags. They are filled to the brim with vegetables and seasonings, peppers and zucchini and everything in between, the makings of a colorful little homemade dish.

Jungkook seems to be making more time to actually cook things these days, fishing through the cabinets regularly to see what meals he can make with all of the ingredients in his kitchen. The chef only comes once every two weeks now, and usually brings with him any groceries that Jungkook has personally requested. He’ll ask you what you think of a new recipe that he wants to try, showing you the guide on his laptop screen, writing down whatever he needs to buy from the store.

And you thought that the chef’s meals were appetizing.

“Have you ever thought of meal-prepping?” You ask as Jungkook sets the noodles in a pot of boiling water, turning the heat on high.

“Why?” Jungkook says.

“I don’t know,” you tell him, washing the red pepper underneath the faucet, cutting board and knife ready and waiting on the counter. “So you don’t have to go through the process of cutting everything up and sauteing it, or whatever.”

Jungkook turns around, shakes his head. “No. Half the fun of cooking is making it.”

“But you could save yourself a lot of time when you come back from work,” you point out. Jungkook’s always so exhausted by the time he walks through the front door, keys scratching the golden bowl on the table on the way in.

“But then we wouldn’t get to cook together,” he says like it’s obvious, like it’s the thing that he thinks about the most when he comes back home. The two of you, filling up his kitchen, leaving oil stains on the countertops and burnt vegetables at the bottom of the pans. The scent of spices, of onions, of sizzling vegetables wafting through the air.

Another person to fill up this barren house.

You never eat in the dining room, because two people still isn’t enough to make that room feel like it’s full, like there are people that regularly use it. But now, there are grease stains on the leather of Jungkook’s couch, and a little bit of ketchup on the rug that he doesn’t know about, reminders that just because Jungkook’s house is big doesn’t mean it has to be empty as well.

“I’m a horrible chef,” you say, because you’re not quite sure what else to tell him. Up until a few weeks ago, you had never cut up an onion in your life. Things in the kitchen that take Jungkook five minutes to do take you twenty. You certainly aren’t any help, not when Jungkook has to pause whatever he’s doing to teach you something that you should already know. So what’s the appeal?

“You’re not that bad,” Jungkook assures you gently. “You just need to do it more.”

“Oh, so is that your mission? You don’t meal-prep because you want me to learn how to make my own food?” You ask, rounding on him.

“You got me.” He grins guiltily, pinching the part of your waist where he knows you’re the most ticklish, making you laugh as you turn invisible for a moment, a sort of gut reaction whenever you’re sensitive. “And because I like cooking with you.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “It must be my infectious personality, right?”

“That, and teaching you how to cook stuff is fun.” Jungkook smiles, reaching out as he begins to chop vegetables beside you. Standing here, in the middle of his kitchen, you wonder if this is how life is supposed to be. Someone you can cook with, someone you can eat with. Someone who will teach you the things that you don’t know, who will help you master the things that you do. Someone who doesn’t care where you came from, only that you’re here now, that you are right beside him.

Homemade meals make your insides warm and fuzzy, but having someone to spend the night with makes your heart feel comforted. Makes it feel like it’s been wrapped in a blanket, cradled in someone’s hands.

“What happens when I learn everything?” You ask. “What will you do then?”

Eventually, this routine must come to an end. Eventually, there will be nothing left for him to teach you, nothing left for you to learn. You know that your days are numbered, that there is only so much time that the two of you can spend together. What will happen when you reach the last day? When there will be no tomorrow for you to rely on?

Jungkook must know that you can’t stay here forever, even if the two of you try to keep it that way. But he doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Then, I’ll find something new to teach you.”

This arrangement has always been temporary.

But for a moment, just a moment, an echo in time, he makes you believe otherwise.

There’s a golden glint on your chest of drawers when you walk into the room, the glare flashing in your eyes as the sun hits it.

You, admittedly, don’t go into your room very often, usually only to do the thing that bedrooms, at their most basic level, were meant to do: sleep. But Jungkook retired early to his room tonight, citing some ridiculous reason like he hadn’t worked out enough this week, and everything in the house suddenly becomes less inviting whenever he’s not around.

When you step closer, you can see it. See the thin chain that rests on the dresser, the key that hangs from it, a similar size to the charms on your bracelet. The gold is faded, shine erased, leaving behind this gentle matte texture, smooth but worn. It’s much more vintage than the sorts of things you would find in jewelry stores today—bright, sparkly necklaces and shiny, lustrous rings. It was made to look old, to look worn. It probably is.

There’s a little note next to the necklace, a torn piece of paper from a notepad, the edges rough and uneven.

To Y/N,

Found this in my mother’s old jewelry that she always leaves here when she decides it’s not her style anymore. Didn’t really think of anybody else that would make good use of it like you. I think it’ll match your bracelet well! I hope you like it.

Jungkook

You smile as you read the words, take in this meaningful little gesture that Jungkook has done for you. The bracelet from your mother has always been your most prized possession, but with its new golden makeover, it reminds you that you don’t always have to look to your past to be happy. That what you have, right here, right now, is enough. Now, your mother’s charm bracelet has a matching partner.

Standing in front of the mirror, you put the necklace on, fingers craning to attach the clasp to the chain, metal slipping from your grip. After a bit of a battle, you finally manage to connect the two ends, letting the key hang low past your collarbones, the gold resting gently against your skin. It doesn’t match your bracelet perfectly, but the two aren’t so much a matching set as they are a pair, two pieces that are meant to complement each other rather than complete.

You seriously doubt that Jungkook’s already asleep.

Sneaking up the stairs to the second story, you see that the door to Jungkook’s bedroom is wide open, revealing a little glimpse into the room he spends so much time in. It’s dark, empty, a signal that Jungkook is elsewhere on this floor. You don’t spend too much effort peering into Jungkook’s bedroom, not when it feels like you’re invading his space, his privacy. He’s already given up so much of his home for you. He deserves to keep his bedroom his own.

He’s not in the gym, you determine as you pass by, which means that there really is only one other place he could be found.

You push open the door to the rooftop, rounding the corner to the deck to find Jungkook doing laps in the pool, wearing nothing but his swimming trunks. The water sloshes around his body as he swims back and forth, kicking up splashes as he goes. You watch for a few moments as he works out, not wanting to interrupt him he burns away the calories in his body. This is the closest you’ve ever come to seeing Jungkook undressed, but you don’t really mind. At least he’s got shorts on.

When he stops, he stands up in the pool, sopping wet hands running through sopping wet hair, strands that frame the sides of his face, make his hair look longer than it actually is. He wipes away the water on his face, blinking the chlorine from his eyes, when he spots you.

“What are you doing up here?” He asks, not even caring to fight away the grin that has laced itself on his features.

“Came to say thank you,” you tell him, fingers toying with the key around your neck. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to,” Jungkook says honestly. “Besides, my mother was never going to come back to get it, so I figured that it should go to someone who will actually wear it.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, slowly sitting down along the edge of the pool, letting your legs dip into the water. Jungkook makes his way over to you, water splashing at his torso as he walks through the pool to stand before you. “Was it always gold?”

“It was, yes,” Jungkook says with a nod. “My mom liked to turn a lot of things, but she preferred her jewelry to be naturally gold. That’s why it’s pretty faded.”

“It looks nicer this way,” you say. “Shiny gold looks cheap.”

“Spend a couple of months in a mansion and suddenly you think gold looks cheap?” Jungkook jokes. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Can’t help that I’ve got an eye for nice things,” you tease, looking Jungkook up and down just to be dramatic. You have to admit that he’s got a rather attractive figure, fit, built, toned. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t eyeing him at least a little bit.

Jungkook pretends that he isn’t paying attention to the fact that you are blatantly ogling his body and laughs. “You swim?”

“I learned when I was little,” you tell him. “But I haven’t done it in a long time.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Jungkook says with a disapproving shake of his head.

“What? I like being dry,” you say, hands on your hips as you defend yourself. Besides, when you were little, swimming always meant showering afterwards, which sucked because then you had to waste water just to clean yourself of other water. Your mother always said that being able to swim would carry you far in life, would be an invaluable skill. You haven’t swum since she died.

“But, you wouldn’t mind if I… oh, never mind,” Jungkook dismisses, being purposefully vague just to capture your attention.

“What?” You demand.

“If I…” Jungkook begins, leaning back down in the pool until all but his head is submerged. He floats towards you, paddling until he’s right beneath your feet. “Did this—?”

Without a second of warning, Jungkook’s wet hands are grabbing onto your ankle, pulling you and your fully-clothed-self into the water with a splash, making you shriek as you feel your skin freeze up at the cold temperature. Luckily, it’s shallow enough here that you can stand rather easily, but now you’re soaked from head to toe, sopping fabric sticking to your figure.

You come up from beneath the water, positively accosted, hands wiping across your face as you clear your eyes so that they can narrow in on your target. “Okay, that was uncalled for,” you say, splashing Jungkook furiously, even as the two of you fight off the laughter that is bubbling up from your throats.

“Oh, but it’s such a nice night for swimming,” Jungkook grins devilishly, that cheeky sort of look reserved for when he knows he’s being a nuisance.

“Maybe for you!” You say, punctuating every word with a splash. Jungkook takes them all in good fun, accepting his punishment for pulling you into the pool. “I’ve been betrayed.”

“Admit it,” Jungkook coaxes, “you love me.”

You refuse.

When the rage has died down and the water begins to feel less like an icy death trap and more like a pleasant dip, you and Jungkook paddle around each other, swimming in circles like two fish in a school. Looking up, it is a nice night, clear skies as a crescent moon hangs above your heads. There are seldom any stars in the middle of the city, but the especially bright ones still shine, flickers of white in an otherwise deep blue ocean. You wonder how many times Jungkook has come out here, spent the night underneath the sky when he cannot sleep away the hours in bed.

You wonder how many times you missed the opportunity to spend the night with him.

“I sort of wish that we could stay like this forever, don’t you?” Jungkook asks, the two of you floating on top of the water like light against the sea.

There’s a lot of things in your life that you wish would never change. This is just another bullet point added to the list.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, because out there somewhere is a timer, counting down the moments until you have to say goodbye. “I do.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” you say, looking at Jungkook.

He sits across from you in the booth, face lit up in a warm yellow from the rustic exposed light bulb above your heads, this soft, homey glow to his features, sharp jawline but rounded cheeks. He’s cleaned up well, in a different way than how he gets ready for work, when he has to make sure his collars are crisp and his hair is sleek and straight. Here, his dark brown hair is bouncy, loose, like he had blown it out after jumping out of the shower and then immediately ran his hand through it a couple of times to mess it up. He wears a plain button down, nothing fancy or chic, no tie, no suit jacket. The beauty of how he looks is that it’s so simple, so timeless, like he doesn’t need to put any effort into how he looks because he is just naturally perfect. Like the cover of a magazine. Like a sculpture come to life.

“I wanted to,” Jungkook says happily, fork twirling around the pasta in the dish in front of him. “We can’t just eat premade meals and leftover Korean food forever.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain if we did…” You reason, because you’ve been better fed in the few months you’ve lived with Jungkook than in the years you have spent on your own. Not to mention the fact that everything Jungkook makes tastes eons better than the meals the professional chef whips up, for some odd reason. “But you’re right, a night out is fun.”

“Sometimes food tastes better when you don’t make it yourself,” Jungkook points out, motioning to the dishes before you, these high-class servings of fish and pasta and vegetables that look like they belong on a cooking show rather than on the table in front of you. You and Jungkook may have mastered (or at least… gotten better at) cooking, but presentation is a whole other battlefield. Besides, it’s all going to the same place, so why bother?

“Mmm,” you murmur in agreement, savoring the flavor of the meal in front of you. A year ago you wouldn’t have dared step foot in a restaurant like this one, would have probably gotten kicked out after you walked through the door, so being here feels like a real treat. One that you think you could definitely get used to.

“Thanks, by the way,” Jungkook pipes up, as if suddenly remembering something.

“For what?”

“For your idea about the investment management,” Jungkook says, sending the both of you back to that day in his office, where Jungkook was on the verge of flipping his desk over because he couldn’t figure out a solution.

“Oh, is it working out?” You ask, curious to know if your suggestion is truly paying off or if you just had too much faith in the goodness of humanity.

“It is.” Jungkook nods happily. He seems very proud of himself. “It was slow going at first, because a lot of clients were starting to wonder why we weren’t investing in other stocks that would guarantee us a higher payout, but then they saw where the money was going. We aren’t bigger than our rival companies, but this levelled the playing field.”

“I’m glad,” you say, because it’s one thing for Jungkook to tell you you had a good idea, and it’s another for him to actually implement it. “That makes me happy to hear.”

“You’re not as bad at business or economics as you think you are, Y/N,” Jungkook informs you, waving around a nonchalant hand. “All they are is an in-depth study of human nature. Some economists assume that everyone in the world is selfish and cares only about themselves, but you’re different. You see the good in everyone, you believe that people can be honest, and selfless, and giving.”

Like Jungkook.

Like Jungkook, who has given up his home, his work, his life just to deal with another person hovering around him. Who gifts you gorgeous pieces of jewelry and takes you out to fancy meals, who lets you screw up a recipe in the kitchen and obligingly eats peppers that have been charred beyond recognition. Who is so much more honest, so much more selfless, so much more giving, than you could ever be, sticking around because to not do so would cost you your freedom, because you would rather stay here than be anywhere else.

“I don’t know what I’ll do when you’re gone,” Jungkook says, cracking this weak, terrible smile. He shakes his head as if to banish the thought from his mind, to exist only in this very moment, choosing to ignore both the past and the future. “I think I’m starting to rely on you being there.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, distantly. Something weighs heavy on your chest, pressing your heart down, slowing its temperate rhythm. The truth is that your heart stopped a long time ago, it stopped when you realized that there’s more to Jungkook that you want to know, when you realized that you can’t bear to imagine a life different than the one that the two of you share, no matter how temporary it is. But this weight, this burden on you, it serves as nothing but a reminder that without Jungkook, your heart cannot count in time. “Me too.”

You return home with plastic tupperwares in your hands, leftovers from the enormous meal that the two of you couldn’t have finished even if you tried. Jungkook takes the container from your hands as you excuse yourself to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the thoughts that rest heavy in your heart, cleanse yourself of the lies you can’t seem to stop telling. There’s this naive part of you that thinks, when you wash off the makeup, change back into your raggedy old clothes, all of the secrets you carry with you will vanish as well.

You know you’ll have to come clean eventually. Eventually, Jungkook will get suspicious as to why you’ve hung around so long even though he is no longer turning. He’ll begin to wonder why you haven’t dashed out of the penthouse you once used to disparage, desperate to return to your old life, where you didn’t have to know him the way that you do now. When you didn’t feel like there was something else trapping you here.

When all is said and done, though, it feels like here is where you were always meant to end up.

You head back out into the living room, ready to settle down and wrap up the night by watching a movie or something, when you see Jungkook standing by the couch, your old tote bag sitting on the cushions from a laundry trip earlier today, a shimmering piece of parchment in his hands.

“Jungkook—”

“How long?” He asks, voice cracking. He’s clenching the paper so hard that his knuckles are turning white, like he can’t believe the words that he’s reading. “How long have you been free to go?”

“Listen, I can explain—”

“A week? A month? When were you going to tell me?” He pleads. When you can’t even muster up the dignity to look at him, he shouts. “When?”

“A month,” you tell him weakly, desperately.

“A month? You’ve been staying here for a month when you didn’t even need to?” He asks, and he isn’t angry, or furious, or full of rage. He looks helpless, like there is no longer light behind his eyes, twinkles in his irises. Like he’s in pain, like he’s hurt. Exposed, his walls broken down and nothing left to repair them. “When were you going to tell me? Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Yes, Jungkook, but I—”

“All this time,” he says, more to himself than to you, like he can’t believe how foolish he’s been. “All this time you’ve been using me? Using my money?”

“No, Jungkook, it’s not like that.” You are desperate, desperate to salvage what you can from this broken arrangement, desperate to start anew.

“Then what is it like?” He demands. “If you weren’t using me for my house, or my money, or my personal chef, then what is it? What did you want from me that you couldn’t get on your own?”

You stop. Why did you stay? Normalcy? Opportunity? Company? All things that you never dreamed of having in a million years. And while being with Jungkook did provide you with all three, none of them feel quite right.

“I don’t know, I just—” You begin, scrambling for the right words and feeling like nothing you say will be correct. “I didn’t want to go back just yet.” It’s a pitiful excuse.

“So you just decided to stay? To play along with me, with all of the things that I was doing with you, for you?” Jungkook shakes where he stands in front of you, blindsided. “Let me teach you how to cook and give you expensive jewelry and take you out to fancy dinners? Just for fun?”

“I never asked for you to do those things for me,” you remind him firmly. It’s not like you were scrounging for money from his pockets, selling insignificant gold sculptures on the black market to buff up your empty bank account. “You wanted to.”

“Because I thought we had something special, Y/N,” Jungkook admits helplessly, collapsing back on the couch. “I did those things because I felt it, Y/N. What you were talking about, that night at the pool, where you saw me sitting at the edge of the water. I felt it. With you,” he begs, hopeless and anguished. “I didn’t understand what it meant to make the magic feel special again until I did it for you. I turned your bracelet and it made me feel like I had something to give to others.”

“You know that that’s not what I meant,” you say, shaking your head. “I was talking about your gift, not us.”

“Aren’t they all the same, though? Magic? Powers? Love? Don’t they all make us feel like we have something special beneath our fingertips?” He asks, to you, to himself, to the moon and the stars, searching for an answer that none of you can give him.

“Love? You don’t mean that,” you say, refusing to admit it. You have no explanation as to why Jungkook did the things he did, just as much as you don’t have an explanation as to why you did the things you did. They just happened.

“I thought we had something,” Jungkook admits sadly, unable to even bring his head up to look at you, at the tears that are welling in your eyes, the ones you refuse to let fall. “And I thought the reason that you wanted to do all of those things with me was because you felt it, too.”

“Jungkook, you know that—”

“What?” He erupts. “What do I know? I know that you’ve been using me all of this time, that you did those things with me because you were getting freebies out of it. I know that I was foolish and—and stupid to think that maybe it was because you were falling in love with me just like I was falling in love with you.”

“Jungkook…” You reach out a trembling hand, wanting to feel the warmth of his body once more, the weight of his head in your palm.

“Don’t,” he says, swatting it away and standing up. “I get it, Y/N. I was stupid and I thought that we had something, when we don’t.” He turns back to look at you, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get the image out of your head, the sight of him, broken and beaten and empty, a shell of the beautiful, vibrant man you had become so attached to. “There’s nothing left for you here. Your services are no longer required.”

He disappears down the hallway, leaving you with nothing but a tote bag, a necklace, and a bracelet left for you to remember him.

When you step into your house for the first time in months, it feels even less inviting than it normally does. Which is, as far as you’re concerned, rather impressive, considering you’ve always dreaded coming back regardless of what happened throughout the day.

But now, you can name no place you would rather not be than in this graffiti-laden house, a dangling light bulb above the back entrance and dirt and dust all along the walls. You’ve never had time to fix up this place and make it look even the slightest bit presentable, never had the money to paint over the walls and get rid of the big red X on the front door. Day in and day out, this would just be a place where you could sleep, a mattress on the floor and Campbell’s soups on the cracked kitchen counters. The first thing you’d do every morning is get out. The last thing you’d want to do every night is come back.

No place has felt like home in a long time. Not since your mother died, when you lost how her smile would light up a room, how she would spin you in circles and kiss your forehead when you got scared that you were going too fast. You had almost forgotten what it meant to have a home, to have a place that felt sacred, like coming home to a warm hug and a steaming cup of tea. To have a place that you didn’t dread returning to, a place that you could gladly waste away in.

The bracelet that dangles from your wrist is the closest thing that you have left to the feeling of home, of comfort and warmth and solace, of something that makes you feel truly happy. But now, the bracelet has been tinted with the memories of another, of the only other person you can think of that has brought you that same feeling of joy, of these rose-stained memories that rest deep within your heart’s attic. They have always been there, hidden, buried beneath the bad, but when there is nothing left they surface. To remind you of what good life can bring you.

To remind you of the magic inside you.

You hate living here. And for a time, you hated living with Jungkook, too. Hated how extravagant his house was, hated how he refused to even speak to you. How there were so many unused rooms, so many empty spaces. But what changed, there, and what hasn’t changed, here, is how people, and not things, are what fill up rooms.

Living with Jungkook made you feel like coming back after a long day was worth it. Planted the knowledge inside you that you would always have him there, could always rely on another’s presence within the apartment. He’s only one person, but he fills up the room like nothing else, lights it up like New Year’s Eve. He’s funny, and witty, and gorgeous. He’s caring and honest and cheeky, just cocky enough for it to be charming as opposed to egotistical. He cooks like nothing else and spends his sleepless nights beneath the stars, looking at the same moon and sky as everyone else.

You don’t hate living here because it’s shit. You hate living here because it’s lonely.

There was a space in your heart that you didn’t even realize was empty. It had been overtaken by the part of you determined to make it to the next day, determined to stick it to the Realm, to its leaders, to all of the people that look down on you because you aren’t made of money.

But when you left Jungkook’s house, you realized that that space had slowly been filled up with him. That over time, bit by bit, moment by moment, Jungkook returned what you had lost, revived what you thought had long been dead.

The truth is that you wanted to stay with Jungkook because you couldn’t stomach the thought of being alone again. Of being forced to fend for yourself, forced to come home to an empty house with no one to waste away the night with. Of being forced to live like every day is a threat rather than a gift.

Jungkook has magic in his fingertips and his heart. It was only a matter of time before it spread to you as well.

Being hurt by someone you love feels like an arrow to the chest. Like a puncture wound, deep and piercing, but too painful to even want to pull it out, patch up the hole. You had already experienced it once. You didn’t have any plans on experiencing it again.

But losing the opportunity to love someone feels like an ache throughout your whole body, this crippling sort of pain that spreads through your bloodstream, setting every organ it passes on fire. It feels like there is something tearing you apart from the inside out, like every piece of you is slowly crumbling.

Jungkook’s biggest mistake wasn't falling in love with you. It was thinking that you were still falling in love with him, when the truth is, you had already fallen. It was letting you leave when both of you wanted nothing more than for you to stay.

Loving someone is a gamble. It’s a risk, a toe in the water, a spark from your fingers.

But not loving someone? That is magic, wasted.

Who knew twenty dollars could get you one large pizza and extra garlic rolls? Certainly not you.

The smell wafts through the hallway to Jungkook’s apartment, filling it with the scent of warm, fresh bread, of a hot meal waiting to be devoured. If you don’t knock soon, the pizza will go cold and you’ll probably eat all of it before you can even say hello to him. You have more food in your hands now than you have the past week you’ve been back at your old place.

You ring the doorbell.

“Coming!” Jungkook shouts. Oh, is he expecting someone?

Ten seconds later the door opens to reveal someone you hardly even recognize. Gone are the soft loose strands of hair and oversized button down shirts. Jungkook opens the door still wearing his suit jacket, tie tight around his neck, like he hasn’t bothered to change since he got home from work over two hours ago. His hair is sleek and straight, a little shorter than you last remember it. He looks the way he did when you first met him, this rigid, workaholic guy that doesn’t care about anybody except himself. He looks like he’s done nothing but work for a week. Not even sleep.

“Hi,” you begin, a short, quick intake of breath. “Did you order a pizza?”

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head, already starting to close the door. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”

“Wait, Jungkook, please? I need to talk to you,” you plead, a hand going out to stop him from shutting you out completely. All that you can see through the crack of space between the door and its frame are his piercing brown eyes, absolutely unreadable. He doesn’t budge. “Also, did you just get back from work? You must be starving. And as it so happens, I have an entire large pizza that I won’t be able to finish all by myself.”

Jungkook budges a little bit.

“Please?”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly, opening the door. “I hope you aren’t planning on staying here too long, this time.”

The words are biting cold, send angry shivers down your spine.

“Just enough for you to hear me out,” you say, placing the pizza box on the coffee table as Jungkook rummages through his kitchen for plates. He eventually manifests two paper ones—you didn’t even know he had those!—and returns, taking a seat on the carpet as he inhales the cheesy, greasy scent.

Your stomach grumbles, but you can’t eat just yet. First, you have to explain yourself.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jungkook asks, cold and distant, the same way he spoke to all of his employees before you encouraged him to do otherwise. “If it’s about my company, we can compensate you as necessary for your contribution. It won’t be much, though.”

“No, no, it’s not about that,” you say with a shake of your head. “It’s about us.”

“What ‘us’ is there to talk about?” He asks economically.

“The ‘us’ that I left behind that day,” you say softly, a gentle reminder. “The ‘us’ I should have realized existed before I let the door shut behind me.”

“If you’re just here to tell me that you’re sorry for not loving me back, don’t,” Jungkook says bitterly. “I don’t expect you to love me back or anything. You can’t change how you feel about people.”

“You still love me?” You ask, a spark, a flash, a ray of light.

Jungkook grumbles. “Yes. It doesn’t go away that easily.”

“You aren’t stupid, or foolish, or idiotic for thinking that I was falling in love with you at the same time that you were falling in love with me,” you tell him, the words light and airy, like weights plucked off of your chest, like butterflies released from a jar. “You were stupid for thinking that I wasn’t already in love with you.”

Jungkook’s head jerks up, eyes blinking wildly. You can see the way that they glisten, with hope, with tears, with desperation. With the possibility that not all is lost.

That old memories can become new once more.

“You were right,” you muse, more to yourself than to anyone else. Even Jungkook. “Magic, powers, love, they’re all the same thing. They are meant to be treasured. Cherished. Protected. They are meant to make us feel special.” You breathe, reaching out next to you, an open hand for Jungkook to take. “But most importantly, they are meant to be shared.”

A small smile. A lip half-turned up, this gentle little grin.

“I stayed because I wanted to keep sharing my life with you, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him honestly, because it’s real and it’s true. Because, at this point, you can imagine nothing else. “And I’m here again because I can’t stand living without you anymore. I never want to stop sharing my life with you.”

“You make me feel like my heart is made of magic,” Jungkook admits, finally, finally, finally. “You make me want to use it just for you.”

“You don’t need to,” you say, pressing yourself into him, letting your lips hover above his own. He reaches a hand out, lets it rest on your waist, waiting desperately for you to close the last inch between the two of you. “You’re already made of it.”

With that, you close the gap, pressing your lips against his, the soft sweet cherry taste of his lip balm filling up your senses, leaving you gasping for air. It’s just a kiss, just a press of lips, this simple gesture, but it takes your breath away nevertheless. It makes you feel like magic swirls inside of you, like your heart is sparking, catching fire, sending it sizzling through your veins. Jungkook has taught you what it means for a house to become a home. You have taught him that magic is only special if he has someone to share it with.

It’s hard to think about the lessons you would have never learned without the other.

It’s hard to think about how different life would be, had you never even met.

Jungkook kisses you and it feels like you’re finally whole. It feels like what has been missing in your life has returned. What you have kept locked up, in the dusty, cobwebbed corners of your heart, in the spaces between your bones, has finally been remembered.

Jungkook takes your old memories and turns them new. He is the only thing you ever want to remember.

“I love you,” he whispers, watching as the words sink into your skin, leaving embers in their wake. “You are my most precious gift.”

“You are my home, Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur. “I love you, too.”

Pizza is good and all, but nothing beats homemade kimchi stew.

You made it all by yourself for the first time last night to celebrate Jungkook donating over a million dollars to various different animal rescues and human rights organizations, taking the kindness that he has been given and paying it forward. Besides, he can make money at the touch of a finger whenever he wants, so he might as well, right?

You also don’t accompany Jungkook at his work anymore, because you’ve gotten enough of a taste of office life and have declared it not your ideal profession, but the nice thing about that is getting the whole house to yourself while he’s gone. Not that you want to do very much without him, but napping in different bedrooms is always exciting.

You never realized how good love makes you feel. How it lifts you up from the inside out, brightens up every day no matter how dull it is to begin with. You had forgotten. What love can do to a person.

Jungkook always comes home and tells you about how happy his employees make him whenever they’re happy. Good feelings like joy, like laughter, like love, they are contagious. It’s a wonder that neither you nor Jungkook figured that out before you met each other.

Well, you suppose that there’s a first for everything.

Jungkook comes home and you can hear the door slam, even from where you’re hiding. You listen as he stops at the door, picks up the note that you left for him.

Loser washes the dishes! ♡

You hear his keys clink in the bowl, metal on metal. He pauses for a moment, for dramatic effect.

And then he shouts,

“You’re on!”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #w: midas #FINALLYYYY #this fic gave me a hernia!

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kenmasgameboy · 4 years

Text

【ｒｅａｃｈｉｎｇ】

an oikawa x seijoh president!reader

oikawa toru has so many girls falling at his feet, but it wasn’t always like this. when y/n met him there was no one yet to inflate his ego, when he was pure to himself, the person he is when it isn’t performative. she fell in love. after forcing a rejection from him, where he says he never saw her as a girl, she’s determined to become the absolute perfect girl for every one except him.

profiles: [ student council ] [ on the block ]

masterlist

listen to the mixtape while you read

previous ➺ now ➺ memory unlocked: age 15

age 18:

𝕚𝕚. libero hours who up

Meet me at 5:55 by the sports equipment shed,

i have something to ask you

You twirled that note in your hand before shoving it in your pocket. You didn’t think too much of it, it wasn’t your first time getting something cryptic like this but you could handle it. You wondered why the time was so exact, but decided it was a concern for after school. Ito must be in some sports club, you knew nothing about this kid so maybe that was it.

Once your class was released for lunch, you had no time to waste. You waved at a few of your classmates who you promised you’d eat lunch with them another time. You speed walked your way to the faculty office, trying to avoid any questions and interruptions since you only had a few minutes to handle your future volleyball club actions and probably ask your faculty advisor a question or two and maybe eat something.

You opened up the doors to see your Coach Kabakura standing in front of you with Coach Nobutero of the boys team. Upon your entrance they both turned to look at you.

“Hi coach, you wanted to see me?” You asked, becoming extremely awkward at their glances. You still straightened your back, knowing you’d have to fight whatever they threw your way.

“L/N, glad you could make it. Just wanted to let you know, I’m keeping you on the team.” Kabakura explained plainly, almost nonchalantly as if there was no discussion to be had.

“What? Sir I– I love the girls on the team, I love volleyball but I told you I can’t make volleyball a priority anymore as student council president I have a lot of—” you started to argue but soon were stopped with a hand up.

“This team is ready to take nationals, but only with a superstar libero like you to complete our defense, L/N. I already talked to the principal and he agrees. As for your schedule we can work around it. You’ll have to do as much student council work during lunch, come to as many practices as you can and practice games.” He told you, “I’ll understand if you can’t make all of them but try to at least come to 3 a week. The boys team practices on Saturday mornings and Fridays, I want you to go to 2 of their practices a week. If you can receive their hitters, you can receive anything. We can change it as we go but this is how I want you starting your conditioning.”

“But Fridays are our rest days?” You questioned. If you go there you’ll see him, “Besides, Kando is more than prepared to take my spot in the starting lineup anyways.”

“Not yet, she still has a lot of growth I need to see. And you’re right, Fridays are our rest days, but they aren’t yours. Take off Sunday to maintain your studies. The principal will have more work for you on Monday. So I don’t expect you to be there at the beginning of the week.” Kabakura overloaded you with this information, you didn’t really know what you expected. He had always been this way, he’s a very strong-headed man. But you were just as strong willed, you had just as much control over your own life.

“I guess I just don’t see the point of practicing with the boys team, the girls team is a perfectly reasonable training level for me—” you started to argue but you were again cut off by the door sliding open. You turned and shockingly made eye contact with a pair of eyes you had been avoiding all day. His eyes were wide in surprise for just a second, he was always the worst at hiding his emotions from you.

“Ah, there he is!” Nobutero proudly exclaimed, walking toward his new superstar captain. He claps Toru on the back and practically pushes the pretty boy into the faculty room to join you and your own coach. You visibly release a deep sigh of disappointment, feeling your eyes roll as you look over your other shoulder in annoyance. Your coach was too busy preparing to shake Toru’s hand the only person to see your moment was the person who caused it.

Toru tried his best to maintain his composure as the coaches talked over the unspoken thick tension between the two of you. Your dead eyes meeting his as he tried to fill his with passion. He wanted to see the trust return to them so bad, he wanted to reignite what he used to see in those beautiful eyes of yours.

“Here is the reason you will be practicing with the boys a few days a week now.” Kabakura patted you both on the shoulder, “Surely you guys know each other, right?”

“Right.”

“Not really.” You talked over Oikawa, crossing your arms.

“Well, we have the best server in Miyagi at our school. And a large part of our loss last year in the qualifiers was due to our serve receives.” Kabakura continued, swallowing the harm he just did to your ego. Last year was a particularly tough loss against Shiratorizawa, you blamed yourself for all of it. You hated asking for help, even more so when that help was coming from Oikawa.

“Isn’t that right? I’m so proud of this kid, even Watari has a crazy amount of struggle receiving Oikawa’s serve.” Nobutero smiled, seemingly ignoring your state of mind.

“Oikawa, how often do you practice serving?” Kabakura asked, covering his face with his mouth.

“I practice 100 serves a day, sir.” Oikawa relaxed his body. Trying his hardest not to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Think you can receive all of those? Just two days a week?” Kabakura switched his attention back to you.

You balled your fist as he continued, you felt like nobody was listening to you. You just wanted to leave volleyball behind you, leave this all behind you, leave him behind you but nobody would let you. Oikawa was about to cover for you, being the only one to seem to pay attention to your obvious detest of the situation.

“Coach, please.” You exhaled through your nose, before smiling through gritted teeth, “Of course, I could.”

“Alright, that’s the spirit!”

“But I won’t.” You cut him off before it could get any further, you were going to be heard. “At least, not now. You haven’t been listening to me at all. Thank you for speaking to the principal, and figuring out a training regimen that could work, but I never said I would return to volleyball. And hearing that I’m working with him doesn’t make it any better than it was before. I don’t care, working with my own team is a better bribe since I actually love them. Please, just allow me a few days to think about it. I need to figure out for myself if I will have the time in my schedule. Thats a decision I make, not something you tell me. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a lot to think about.”

You turned on your heel, and everyone watched you. What a presence you had, how you managed to wrangle it into this room was incredible. You weren’t like that shy little girl Toru met when you were both six, you had commanded attention the second you were pushed over the edge. You weren’t afraid to speak your mind once pushed out of your nice exterior. You were not the kid he volunteered to be class representative in their first class of middle school, because he knew she wanted to do it even if she never said anything. No, she didn’t need him anymore.

“L/N! Wait–” Your coach ran after you. Waving your jersey behind him, “Just check out their practice once.”

“Oikawa,” You turned your attention to the pretty boy who was watching this scene unfold, for once in his life keeping his mouth shut, “I have to meet with you at your practice anyways, have your budget paperwork for your team ready. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, Sensei. But I can’t promise you anything now.”

“That’s all I ask today, thank you L/N.” Kabakura sighed, he forgot how difficult you were. Oikawa smiled once you left, out of pure admiration.

“She’s a fiery one isn’t she? I expected her to be excited to work with Oikawa.” Nobutero clapped his star players back, “Most girls would be–

“Not L/N. She’s never really cared about stuff like that. I’ve had to kick out so many guys from our practices it’s disgusting. The girls have some fun with it but I know she hates it. I don’t know what happened to her but she hates boys.” Your coach chuckled at some memory he had of you.

That’d probably be because of me.. Oikawa thought this, but he kept it to himself.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

The bell that excused your class from the last long lecture of the day seemed to be louder in your ears than everyone else. You had too much to do today. This was the longest day of your life it seemed.

After exchanging smiles with a few friends, you ducked out of the classroom again. Rushing to be the first to open the student council room. You got in, dropped off your things and took out the budgeting paperwork. You made 5 copies, one for each of your other student council officers. Leaving them in neat piles by their name tags.

They all strolled in at their own time.

“President, what are you doing here already? The bell rang like 5 minutes ago.” Sora was shocked to see you standing in there, he already had his keys out to open the door but realized you already unlocked it, “That excited to see me?”

“You wish.” You rolled your eyes.

“I really do.” He admits fully, dragging his fingertips across the table to try and meet them up to you. Once he’s only a few inches away from you, he reaches his hand up to take the stack of paper away from you. His fingers overlapping on your hands.

“You need to stop this. Sora, I like having you as my VP and I’ve trusted you, but it’s to the point where my friends are texting me asking what’s going on between us.” You begged, staring at his collarbones just peeking out of his uniform instead of his eyes.

“What is going on between us?” Sora asked, your eyes widened in surprise at the question.

“I–That’s not what I meant. I meant they saw you pulling me into the opening ceremony and assumed we were a thing.”

“Are we not a thing?” Sora grazed his hands up your forearms, daring to try and relax your shoulders, “I thought I’ve been pretty clear about how I feel about you.”

“You’re my VP.” You croaked out a response, you’d never talk about this kind of thing again. It scared you.

“You’re cute when you try to avoid the topic.” Sora cracked a bright smile, you couldn’t help but feel goosebumps rise on you arms from where he touched you. He removed his hands and took the stack of forms from you, finishing off the job you were doing, “We don’t have to do this now. I’ll wait.”

The others came in as soon as that happened. You wondered if he must’ve heard their footsteps.

“I swear, y/n you’re crazy! How’d you already make all these copies?” Naeko dropped her jaw from over Sora’s shoulder. She was shocked at the layout you already spread. She knew. you were awesome, but come on.

“I swear she’s a monster. She’s a monster, a seductress, an sentient being. L/N doesn’t exist–”

“As much as I love conspiracy theories, I’m just really fast.” You chuckled at Riku’s ramblings, they always had their own way of complimenting you. You quickly changed the subject to tell them the game plan. Everyone had different clubs to visit to split up the work. You yourself had 9 to visit today.

It took maybe an hour and a half to visit all except one. You groaned at the last one you had on your list. Naeko offered to switch this one with you but you gratefully refused. You needed to do this, for coach and your own sanity. You can act normal around him. You can be the same old cool president as normal.

You went to the upper level of the boys volleyball gym. At least 15 girls were already up here. You didn’t want to disturb their drills, but you didn’t realize you’d have so much company. But of course you would, all these girls were here to see Oikawa. You had a familiar pang in your chest. This wasn’t your first time finding yourself next to these girls, feeling lost in the masses.

No, this is the first time I’m different from them. You told this to yourself and picked your head up. Even as you exchanged pleasantries with those girls, and knew in your heart they were kind, you couldn’t help but feel that green devil still kicking in the cage of your heart. You leaned against the fences a few feet away from the other girls. Hairs fell over your face and you forced yourself to clear them, your face would never change as you watched your friends.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were the first to notice your presence, sending waves up your direction. Iwaizumi didn’t notice you yet, but he knocked the back his friends heads for slacking off. Once they explained they all jogged in your direction.

“Y/N! What the hell are you doing here?” Iwaizumi asked you.

“Good to see you too, Iwa.” You laughed off his greeting, “My coach might have me come practice with you guys a few times a week. Something about practicing my serve receives with harder opponents. Plus I need his signature.” You waved your clipboard and stack of forms as a note to what you were doing.

“Serve receives?” Iwaizumi knew exactly what you were talking about, but decided to help, “I could help you with that, you could’ve just asked.”

“Not from you, unfortunately.” You said, your eyes betraying you as they slacked off in a half hooded solemn manner. “You know.”

He did, but decided not to make you uncomfortable.

“He’s outside right now. If you need to talk to him.” Matsukawa announced, suddenly all his fangirls followed suit out the doors and to run outside to talk to him.

“That’ll get him back inside.” Maki gave his partner a high five.

“He hasn’t changed.” You said it under your breath but Iwaizumi heard you. Sure enough, Oikawa snuck back into the gym. Dragging his right leg behind him in a moment of pain.

“Alright, which one of you was it.” Oikawa gritted his teeth in a smile while looking directly at Mattsu and Makki.

“Iwaizumi.” They both said at the same time.

“You alright?” Iwaizumi turns away from you to attend to his best friend. But Oikawa’s eyes drifted up to the last person on the second level.

“Heads up!” you heard an underclassman yell as a ball came flying towards the upper level, it wasn’t coming for your face. But you extended your right arm to the side, angling your wrist in just the perfect fashion for the ball to be angled back downwards.

The slap it made when the volleyball ricocheted off of your wrist satisfied a hunger you didn’t know you had in a long time. It was like getting a difficult answer on a test correct. You smugly smiled, teeth proving to be able to give anyone the perfect amount of serotonin just by looking at them as they were revealed from behind your tight lipped expression.

“Thanks!” The underclassmen hollered, two or three having apparent goofy smiles from their thoughts.

“Are you listening to me?” Iwaizumi snapped Oikawa back from staring intently at you. He looked back over his shoulder, “Are you talking to her or what?”

“Yeah. At 5:55.”

【ｆｕｎ　ｆａｃｔｓ】

➺ Oikawa slipped that note in your desk after he saw you holding hands with Sora

➺ Maki and Mattsu have been coming up with different ways for oikawa to be bothered by his fangirls. Today was the most vanilla of them all. Most of the time its them telling the girls incorrect facts about Oikawa’s likes and dislikes.

➺ Sora admitted his feelings for you at the end of last year after you were elected in your positions. You had known each other from being co-representatives the year before in class. You denied him on the basis of “working together” instead of your normal “I don’t like you, i’m sorry.” He took this as you still have feelings for him to, which is why he doesn’t give up.

➺ Naeko is normally the outsider from the fangirls at practice. He though Maki and Mattsun were waving at his girlfriend, he finds himself being more and more jealous recently.

➺ that was the first time oikawa had seen y/n receive something up close since middle school.

➺ i say up close, because just like he does for his own team, he always gets a copy of the girls vbc matches just so he can cheer you on. He never stopped wanting to be your fan.

➺ one time naeko caught him watching your game in his room and she still makes fun of him for being a “simp” even though she thought it was really sweet.

taglist:

@chibishae34 @bby-bokuto @shittykawaa @1-800-schmacked @artsamber @berriesii @bbyazu @roseestuosity @gaytoasterstrudels @mirdy47707 @trippy-kitty @iwanttogotopluto @hvneymun @a-listaire @princessmidas @glyxiebear @akaashiwife @anejuuuuoy @kiyoojima @deimmortales99 @unstableye @sugawarabby @haikyuufairy @ashaite @bettys-other-shoe @defchamseoul @honeymoneyy @animatedrapture @alexthe80swhore @nellieleverlin @forhyunryu @thosenerdy3amthings @mariachiii @dishonestkilla @notdahyun @angyboibakugo @tuaningly @sxrensxngwrites @anhphunnnn @montys-chaos @toorubread @dawnsbaby @lovinsugamamma @halxma06 @dumbv1rgo @neomemartin8383

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askkrenko · 3 years

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Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Smoochum Line

Cutest Pokemon is Best Pokemon.

DESIGN:

Smoochum is legitimately the cutest Pokemon ever. Maybe it’s just “The Screen Actor’s Guilt” sticking with me as an episode, but seriously, Smoochum is just a sweet little lovable baby who wants kisses and hugs but also looks absolutely sassy when she’s not getting them. I keep three Pokemon nearby at night, and one of them’s Smoochum. (The other two are Eevee.) I love her bunches and she’s just distilled cute baby girl and I just want to hold her and squeeze her and take care of her forever.

Jynx, on the other hand, is a pokemon design traditionally considered odd. Based on a mixture of the operatic Brunhilda and a Japanese mythological creature called Yamauba. Many also believe she’s based on the Ganguro style in Japan, and while this is possible, it’s unlikely- the Ganguro style was only just reaching real popularity when Pokemon came out. Jynx initially had black skin, but that was very swiftly changed to purple basically as soon as anyone outside of Japan got a look at her.

Jynx is probably the most humanlike Pokemon, in more than a few ways. Unlike some Pokemon, there are no non-clothing explanations for Jynx’s outfit, and their pokedex entries state that Jynx speaks in a human-like language that nobody can translate. This is probably because the verbal language is incomplete- other Pokedex entries say that Jynx communicate by dancing.

Jynx’s design and Pokedex entries really blur the line of what a Pokemon is, as opposed to what a Person is, and any real thought about it can only lead to people being uncomfortable, especially when there’s so many reasons to believe that humans are a type of Pokemon.

I don’t know if I like Jynx’s design, but I’m definitely interested by it. Jynx is something interesting and special, even after some thousand Pokemon have been released (if you count alternate forms.) She’s a person, I think. A weird, non-human person, but a person. So what does this say about, well, everything?

Art by Cosmopoliturtle

EVOLUTIONS:

Jynx got shafted.

Look, I get that not everything can have an evolution, but Jynx, Electabuzz, and Magmar were a clear trio from the beginning, and then when baby Pokemon showed up they each got a new baby form. And if you look at the early, proto-Jynx data it’s very clear that these three were created intentionally together, with Jynx being pure ice-type at the time.

But then Electabuzz and Magmar got evolutions, and Jynx just didn’t. Now, maybe it’s because at the time she was probably the strongest of the three, but it’s not as though she’s ever been tearing up the tournament scene. Jynx deserves a third form.

Anyway, Smoochum to Jynx is a pretty standard level-up evolution. Nothing to really note there except that level 30’s a bit on the late side for something with Jynx’s stats.

Art by Mataknight

TYPING:

Ice/Psychic is a serious glass-cannon type. Defensively, it’s weak to six types and only resists Ice and Psychic, but offensively, it’s super-effective against six types, and only stopped by Steel. This is still a problem when switching in, but Jynx has enough speed and special attack that the coverage is more important than the resistances.

STATS:

115 Special Attack and 95 Speed is enough to work with if the rest of the Pokemon’s not useless. Jynx has abysmal physical defense and lowish HP, but its special defense is solid. This makes switching in even harder, but once she’s in she’s a threat right out of the gate.

Rocket Grunt Muchul by AutobotTesla

ABILITIES:

Forewarn is basically useless- moving on.

Oblivious prevents Jynx from Attract and Taunt, which isn’t inherently useless but pales in comparison to her Hidden Ability.

Jynx’s Hidden Ability, Dry Skin, makes Jynx absorb water attacks to heal and heals her every turn in the rain. It does make her more susceptible to fire, and take damage from Sunny Day, but she’s vulnerable to fire already and changing it from a 2x weakness to a 2.5x weakness isn’t a huge hit. Immunity to (and in fact healing from) water type attacks opens up serious options for free switch-ins, as well as tactical options in 2v2. Weakness to Sunny Day is a bit awkward, but the tradeoff is worth it.

Art by Maldock

MOVES:

Jynx’s moveset is pretty straightforward.

Ice Beam or Blizzard for one attack, Psychic or Psyshock for the other. Energy Ball, Shadow Ball, and Focus Blast offer coverage.

Nasty Plot, of course, is always useful on a special attacker, and Jynx is fast enough to try and sweep with it.

Most importantly, though, is Jynx’s signature move, Lovely Kiss. At 75% accuracy, Lovely Kiss is one of the best Sleep moves in the game, and though Jynx is no Electrode, she certainly has the speed to use it to save herself from many attacks.

There’s other utility moves, of course, and a high speed enables a number of them to work well with Jynx, but you really can’t go wrong with Ice Beam, Psyshock, Lovely Kiss, and Nasty Plot, and even if you add in something else you’re not going to stray too far from this lineup.

Art by MrRedButcher

OVERALL:

Jynx deserves a third form. I know, I stay that about a lot of things, but now that Magmar, Electabuzz, Mr. Mime, and Scyther all have evolutions, and Pinsir has a Mega Evolution, it seems really weird that Jynx still doesn’t. And there’s so many design options: they could make her even bigger and bolder, or they could turn her into waifu material, or they could do both and make her a big, bold waifu. There’s a lot of great third form/mega Jynx designs out there, and many of them are entirely tasteful.

My more nitpicky complaint about Jynx is that the Pokedex specifies them as dancing all the time, but they only get Rain Dance. Teeter Dance would be totally in-flavor, and Quiver Dance would both be flavorful and seriously beneficial.

Also, Forewarn sucks a lot and really needs to be buffed.

Art by Oddsocket

BONUS:

Okay, bonus art- Designs for Jynx evolutions I particularly like.

Lucas-Costa’s Mega Jynx is a classy lady! Blurring the line between Pokemon and person even more, she looks ready for a night on the town!

GregAndrade’s Operynx leans into the Brunhilde designs and turns her into a full-on singing valkyrie!

LuisBrain’s Malicciss (Which I assume is pronounced Mal-i-kiss) turns Jynx into a full-blown succubus, with wings, horns, and curves.

There’s plenty more designs, of course, but these three represent the basic three directions I see them in (winter clothes, valkyrie, sexy) and are art quality high enough for Pokemon to actually use.

#Krenko's Pokemon Guide #Smoochum #Jynx

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lacquerware · 3 years

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2020 Recap - My Year in Gaming

2020. What a year for video games. I had big plans for last year, but in the end I did very little besides play video games, and I don’t think I’m alone there since we were all stuck at home looking for a way out of reality. I wanted to do a year-end recap as I’ve done sporadically in past years, but this one will be different than the typical “Games of the Year” format because despite all the games I played in 2020, almost none of them came out in 2020, and some of the things that defined my year in gaming weren't even games.

Resident Evil 3 Remake (PS4)

RE3 was one of the only games I played in 2020 that didn’t coincide with the deadly pandemic's spread across the US. RE3 is, of course, a game about the spread of a deadly virus in Anytown, USA. It was an appetizer, I guess.

When the Resident Evil 2 remake dropped in 2019, there were some things I loved about it, and a few things that felt like steps back from the original. I feel much the same about RE3. I had also theorized that a Resident Evil 3 remake would be better off as RE2 DLC than as a separate full-length game, and considering how short RE3 turned out, with some of the best sections of hte original cut entirely (namely, the clock tower), I stand by my theory.

Oh well, at least Jill gets this rad gun, which for the time being is the closest thing to a new Lost Planet we can hope for anytime soon.

Sekiro (PS4)

Sekiro is the first video game I ever Platinumed. This is partly because conquering the base game was such a spartan exercise that going the extra mile to get the Platinum didn’t seem so bad, but it’s also surely a result of the pandemic. I needed a project and a big win. Who didn't?

I wrote at length about why I like Sekiro more than every other modern FromSoft game, and also about the game’s cherry-on-top moment that reminded me of blowing up Hitler’s face in Bionic Commando. Please read them!

Death Stranding (PS4)

Release date notwithstanding, this was obviously the Game of 2020. I wrote about it here, here, and here. This game bears the distinction of being the second one I ever Platinumed. It took 150 hours. Only then did I learn I had a hoverboard.

Streets of Rage 4 (PS4)

This is the only 2020 game I played for more than a few hours. In fact, I cleared the entire game at least five times. I still don’t think it captures the gritty aesthetic of the prior Streets of Rages (nor even tries to), but this is probably the best-feeling bup I've played. Huge bonus points for finally bringing back Adam, but in the end I found it hard not to pick Blaze every time.

Blaster Master Zero 2 (Switch)

What impressed me about this sequel from Inti Creates was that it wasn’t just more of the same, even though that would've been fine. BMZ2 builds on its already excellent predecessor with a catchy new format where players can freely cruise the cosmos and stages take the varied form of planets—some big and sprawling, others short and sweet. Hopping at will from planet to planet without ever knowing what experiences and treasure each one held felt like system jumping in No Man’s Sky and island hopping in The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass, both of which felt like opening presents.

Dragon Force (Saturn)

Charming, satisfying, and addictive as a bag of chips. Unlike a bag of chips, when it’s over, you can do it all again. And again. And it’ll be different each time! This might be the first strategy game I've truly loved. Better late than never.

The PC Engine Mini

The PC Engine/TurboGrafx-16 Mini seems a particularly justifiable mini-console for people outside Japan because so many missed these consoles entirely, the games are hard to obtain, and the lineup includes titles spanning the entire convoluted Turbo/PC Engine ecosystem—the TurboGrafx-CD/CD-ROM², Super CD-ROM², Arcade CD-ROM² and SuperGrafx, in addition to plain, old standard HuCard games. I myself didn’t know the first thing about these systems before. It’s like reliving the nineties again for the first time.

Most of the titles included are simple action games that don't require a command of Japanese, but make no mistake: being able to understand Snatcher and TokiMemo does make me feel like an elite special person worth more than many of you.

(Side note: From a gender representation perspective, the difference between Snatcher and Death Stranding is stark. Virtually every interaction with every woman or girl in Snatcher is decorated with ways to sexually harass her. Guess someone finally had a conversation with our favorite auteur.)

A Gaming PC

I’d threatened to transition to PC gaming for years after beholding the framerate difference between the console and PC versions of DmC in 2012, and last July I finally took the leap, buying an ASUS “Republic of Gamers” (ugh) laptop with an NVIDIA GeForce RTX 2070 Max-Q GPU. It seems like consoles are getting more PC-like all the time, especially with all these half-step iterations that splinter performance and sometimes even the feature set (à la the New 3DS and Switch Lite), so with the impending new generation seemed like a fine time to change course.

In the half-year since, I’ve barely played a single PC game more recent than 2013, but just replaying PS3-era games at high settings has been like rediscovering them for the first time.

I also finally experienced keyboard-and-mouse shooting and understand now why PC gamers think they're better than everyone else. Max Payne is a completely different game with a mouse. Are all shooters like this??

The USPS

Early in the year, I rediscovered my childhood game shop, Starland, which is now an online hub known as eStarland.com with a brick-and-mortar showroom. To my delight, it has become one of the best and most modestly priced sources for import Saturn games in the country, and I scored Shining Force III’s second and third episodes, long missing from my collection, for a mere ten bucks each!

In June, I treated myself to a trio of Saturn imports from eStarland: the tactics-meets-dating-sim mashup Sakura Taisen 2, the nicely presented RTS space opera Quo Vadis 2, and beloved gothic dungeon crawler Baroque. Miraculously, this haul amounted to just around thirty dollars total. Less miraculously, they never arrived. This was the second time I’d had something lost in the mail in my entire life, and also the second time that month. Something was wrong with the USPS, and it wasn’t just COVID pains. We would soon learn Trump had been actively working to sabotage one of the nation’s oldest and most reliable institutions in a plot to compromise the upcoming presidential election.

Frankly it’s a miracle there’s still such a thing as “delivery” at all, and a few missing video games is the last of my worries considering what caused it, but nevertheless this was an experience in my gaming life that could not have happened any other year. I won’t forget it.

*By the way, USPS reimbursed me for the insured value of the missing order, which was fifty bucks. So I actually profited a little off the experience.

Mega Everdrive Pro

I love collecting for the Genesis and Mega Drive, but I will not pay hundreds of dollars for a video game that retailed for about sixty. The publishers never asked for that, and the developers won’t see a (ragna)cent of the money. I'm also far less inclined to start collecting for Sega CD, since the hardware is notoriously breakable, the cases are huge and also breakable, and the library just isn't that good.

Still, I'd been increasingly curious about the add-on as an interesting piece of Sega history, so when I learned Ukranian mad scientist KRIKzz had released a new Mega Everdrive that doubled as a Sega CD FPGA, I finally took the plunge into the world of flash carts. This has proven a great way to play some of the Mega Drive’s big-ticket rarities I will never buy—namely shmups like Advanced Busterhawk Gley Lancer and Eliminate Down—as well as try out prospective additions to the collection. I never would have discovered the phenomenal marvel of engineering and synth composition that is Star Cruiser without this thing, but now that I have, it’s high on the shopping list.

The Mega Everdrive Pro is functionally nearly identical to TerraOnion’s “Mega SD” cartridge, but slightly less expensive, comes in a “normal” cartridge shell instead of the larger Virtua Racing-style one, and supports a single hardworking dude in Ukraine rather than a company with reportedly iffy customer service.

Twitch

Getting a PC also resolved issues that had long prevented me from achieving a real streaming setup, and much of my gaming life in 2020 was about ramping up my streaming efforts. I even made Affiliate in about a month. Streaming has been a great creative outlet and distraction, as well as a way to connect with other people during the COVID depression and structure my gaming time. Find me every Monday through Thursday 8-11pm Eastern at twitch.tv/lacquerware.

Metroid: Other M (Dolphin)

PC ownership also gave me access to the versatile Dolphin emulator, liberating a handful of great Wii exclusives from their disposable battery-powered prison.

One of the Wii games I fired up on Dolphin was Metroid: Other M, a game I’d always wanted to try but had been dissuaded by years of bad publicity and the fact that I never had any goddamn batteries. I know I should temper what I’m about to say by acknowledging that I was playing at 1080p/60fps on a PS4 controller so my experience was automatically a vast improvement over that of all Wii players, but I’m increasingly confident Metroid: Other M was the most fun I’ve ever had playing a Metroid game. I haven’t decided yet if I’m willing to die on this hill, but I will just say that if you like the Metroidvania genre in general and aren’t particularly attached to the Metroid series’ story or its habit of making you wander aimlessly for hours, there’s a very high chance you will enjoy Other M—especially if you play it on Dolphin.

Don't Starve Together (PC)

Don't Starve is the only game my friend Jason plays, so last year I tried to get into it with him. I respect this game's singular devotion to the concept of survival, but make no mistake: every session of Don't Starve ends with you starving to death. Or freezing. Or getting stomped by a giant deity of the forest. The entire game is staving off death until it inevitably comes. Even when death comes, you can revive infinitely (in whatever mode we were playing), which means even death is not an end goal. There is no end goal. You don't even have the leeway to "play" and create your own meaning as you do in similarly zen games like Dead Rising.

Don't Starve is a game for people for whom hard work is the ultimate reward in and of itself. Don't Starve told me something about Jason.

G-Darius (PS1)

In the early fall, Sony announced they were dropping PS3, PSP, and Vita support from the browser and mobile versions of their PSN Store, and since the PS3 version of the store app runs like a solar-powered parking meter in Seattle, I decided this was my last chance to stock up on Japanese PSN gems.

Among my final haul, the PS1 port of G-Darius proved an instant favorite. Take down the usual cast of mechanized fish in a vibrant, chunky, low-poly style that perfectly inhabits the constraints of the original PlayStation hardware. I believe this is the first Darius game that lets you get into giant beam duels with the bosses, which is quite definitely one of the coolest things a video game has ever let you do. The PS1 port is also surprisingly feature-rich, including some easier difficulty levels that present an actually surmountable challenge for non-savants.

This one’s coming to the upcoming Darius Cozmic Revelation collection on Switch alongside DARIUSBURST, a good-ass romp in its own right.

Red Entertainment

In my effort to shine a tiny spotlight on some of the unsung Interesting Games of gaming, I found myself drawn again and again to the work of Red Entertainment. First there were cavechild headbutt simulator Bonk’s Adventure and twin shmups Gates of Thunder and Lords of Thunder on the PC Engine Mini. Then I streamed full playthroughs of the PS2’s best samurai-era, off-brand 3D Castlevania, Blood Will Tell and the Trigun-adjacent stand-‘n-gun, Gungrave: Overdose. Then I was dazzled by Bonk’s Adventure’s futuristic spin-off cute-‘em-up, Air Zonk, which was also sneakily tucked away on my PC Engine Mini in the “TurboGrafx-16” section. It turned out all these games were made by the same miracle developer responsible for Bujingai, the stylish PS2 wushu game starring Gackt and a household name here at the Lacquerware estate. How prolific can one team be???

Month of Cyberpunk

In November, I started toying with the idea of themed months on my Twitch channel with “Cyberpunk month.” It was supposed to be a build-up to Cyberpunk 2077’s highly anticipated November release, but holy shit that didn’t happen, did it? Still, I always find myself gravitating toward this genre in November, I guess because I associate November with gloom (even though this year it was sunny almost every day). A month is a long time to adhere to a single theme, but cyberpunk is such a well-served niche in gaming that I could easily start an all-cyberpunk Twitch channel. The fact that we’re so spoiled with choice makes Cyberpunk 2077’s terrible launch all the more embarrassing. Here are just some of the games I played (and streamed!) in November:

Ghostrunner Shadowrun (Genesis) RUINER Remember Me Transistor Rise of the Dragon (Sega CD) Shadowrun (Mega CD) Cyber Doll (Saturn) Binary Domain Shadowrun Returns Blade Runner (PC) Deus Ex: Human Revolution Deus Ex: Mankind Divided Observer

Shadowrun on the Genesis gets my top pick, but the two most recent Deus Ex games are great alternatives for those looking for something in the vein of 2077 that isn’t infested with termites.

Lost Planet 2

Every year. I played through it twice in 2020.

Dead Rising 4

I slept on this one too long. While it's a far cry from the original game, it's easily the most fun I've had with a Christmas game since Christmas NiGHTS. This is the game a lot of people thought they were getting when they bought the original Dead Rising with their new Xbox 360--goofy, indulgent, and pressure-free.

Devil May Cry 5: Vergil (PS4)

Vergil dropped for last-gen consoles in December and breathed a whole lot of life into a game that was already at the head of its class.

Nioh 2

I’ve only played a few hours of Nioh 2 because I promised my friend I’d co-op it with him and wouldn’t play ahead. But he’s a grad student with two small children. Nevertheless, Nioh 2 is my Game of 2020.

And that's it! Guess I'll spend 2021 playing games that came out last year, and maybe eventually getting vaccinated? Please?

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toalltheficsivelovedbefore · 4 years

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Leather and Him || yuta

boyfriend!yuta x fem!reader • drabble • fluff, no warnings • Out with friends isn’t exactly how you wanted to spend your night after a long week, but maybe Yuta will be able to help with that.

You’re not sure how this tradition started.

At one point, it had only been a thing you and Yuta did. But then it slowly became a friend hangout thing. You’re pretty sure it was Taeil that first started crashing your date night, then eventually the couples trickled in too. Not that you particularly minded. When it was no longer just a “date night” for the two of you, Yuta made sure to set another night aside during the week for you and you alone.

Plus, you were so busy lately with work, you’d take any chance to see your friends and their partners. Even if that was sitting in a crowded bar, shouting over whatever band was playing that night.

It had been Yuta’s idea to try out the bars and clubs around your neighborhood, and you often found it hard to tell him no. Especially when he wore that one leather jacket on cooler nights. You know which one: the one you sneak off his chair during the night and wrap around your shoulders. It hangs just right off you that Yuta gets that certain sparkle in his eye. The one that makes him switch to water cause he’d rather be completely coherent and sober when you get home.

You were revisiting a bar close to your place. Some local band had got a spot in the lineup and Yuta proclaimed that he’d been following them on Spotify forever, since before they were even popular. (“You’re a hipster.” “Excuse me?” “It’s true.” “You take that back right now!”) The usual crowd was there, their partners, and Yuta was off near the little stage, Johnny and Taeil joining him. You were only a drink and a half in, but you were already ready to head home. This band was not doing much for you, and honestly, you’d had a long day at work. What really sounded appealing was running a hot bath, sinking into some sweet-smelling bubbles, and setting youtube up on your phone.

That fantasy was so all-consuming, you didn’t even notice when Jaehyun moved closer to you. Not until he was flicking water in your face from the condensation on his glass.

You flapped your hand at him, shoving his shoulder until he stopped, laughing under his breath.

“You back in our reality?” Jaehyun looked handsome tonight, tight blue jeans, a black belt, and a cream-colored sweater.

The sigh that rushed through your lips had his brows raising. “I’m just… I’m just really tired.”

He knocked your drink a little closer to you on the table. “Work?”

You nodded, bringing the glass to your lips as you searched the crowd for your brightly colored boyfriend. “This week has been tough. Had to find a new photographer for a campaign cause ours dropped out, and then there were problems with some other ads.”

“Why didn’t you just stay home?”

This time your brows quirked up. “Cause it’s friends hangout night. I wanted to see everyone.” You found Yuta, swaying with his arm thrown around Taeil’s shoulders. “And Yuta really wanted to see this band.”

Jaehyun regarded you curiously. He watched as you smirked fondly at your boyfriend, how you rubbed your temple with your free hand. “You know he woulda stayed home if you said that’s what you wanted.”

“That’s not fair to him though.” You found Jaehyun’s gaze, not at all surprised by the way he appraised you, like he was still trying to figure out how you ticked. “We’ll have all of tomorrow to do whatever I want.”

Your best friend nodded, leaning away from you to turn back to watch the stage.

The other couples around you were lost in their own worlds. A pang of envy ran through you when a few of them gathered their things and wished you a goodnight.

Normally you would’ve wrapped Yuta’s jacket around you, let yourself be engulfed in leather and the smell of him, but it was still tightly secured to his shoulders and back. Your signal that you were ready to go home stood over 10 feet from you, mocking you in the stage lights that bounced around the crowd.

Needing a moment alone, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

It was much cooler in the single-stall room, and quieter. You let the water run before splashing some on the back of your neck. Your reflection looked tired, and if you were not you, you’d tell yourself to go home and get into bed. Screw the bubble bath.

You’re brought back to your surroundings by a knock on the door, and a warbling voice telling you “its just me.”

Normally you wouldn’t let Yuta into a women’s only restroom, but you were feeling the need to see him and hold him, so you quickly unlocked the door and let him in. He must’ve been able to sense that you were not feeling well, cause he grabbed you by the arms and pulled you into his chest, his own arms wrapping tightly around your body. You let yourself sag into him, breathing in his scent and out the stress from the week.

“You know you could’ve told me you didn’t want to go out tonight.”

You breathe out a laugh, looking up at him through your lashes. “You sound like Jaehyun.”

Yuta nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “He’s the one who told me where to find you.” His eyes searched your own, trying to find something, though you weren’t sure what. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You dropped your head back onto his chest. The material of his shirt felt soft on your cheek. “Cause you were so excited about tonight. I didn’t want you to miss out on them.”

His hand soothed along your back. “Well, if you had told me, I could’ve told you that this band was playing another bar next weekend, so I wouldn’t have missed my chance.” Yuta squeezed you even tighter into him. “You’re so dumb.”

“Hey!” But you laughed, trying to back up so you could smack him. He only held you closer, chuckling low in your ear. “You’re mean,” you grumbled, wrapping your arms back around him, slipping your hands up the back of his shirt. His skin was warm and soft, and you felt yourself melt just a bit more into his touch.

Yuta took a step forward, making you back up into the wall. “You wanna go home?” You nodded, letting him snake a hand between you two so he could lift your chin. “What do you wanna do? Go to sleep, take a bath, watch a movie?” You only nodded. His eyes looked rather captivating right now, and you weren’t honestly sure what he was saying at the moment. Mouth quirking up in a smirk, he leaned his face down a bit closer to your own. Your eyes fell to his lips. “Hm? That didn’t answer my question.” His voice sounded so low, his breath fanning across your cheeks, and your eyes drifted closed involuntarily. “Baby, what do you want?”

You let out a harsh sigh, fidgeting in his arms, but not bothering to open your eyes. “Kiss me.”

He was not the kind of man who needed to be told twice.

Yuta’s lips came down on yours roughly, slotting your mouths together like it was the most natural thing in the world. He had always had a way of making you lose your oxygen, and a warmth spread from your mouth to your belly, igniting a flame you weren’t expecting to feel that night.

Pressing you harder into the wall, a moan was pushed out of you, making him answer with a groan of his own. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open with a gasp, which he quickly claimed, running his tongue along the roof of your mouth. Your nails dug into his back painfully. Yuta rewarded you with another beautiful groan, then he left your mouth, trailing wet kisses down your jaw and sucking harshly at the skin of your neck. You wanted to pull away, prevent him from marking you before you could get home, but he felt too good pressed up against you in that tiny bathroom.

That thought had you suddenly crashing back down to earth, and you choked out his name, calling his attention away from the now sore juncture of your neck and shoulder.

When he pulled away from you, his mouth was red and swollen, eyes glazed and trained solely on your lips, and you couldn’t imagine you looked any better off.

“I really don’t want to do this in a bathroom at a bar.”

His eyes slowly focused again, nodding along with your words. He disentangled himself from your body, standing up to his proper height. The little smile on his bruised mouth told you that you definitely looked as wrecked as he did.

Yuta slipped the leather jacket from his shoulders, placing it on your own. His hands cupped your cheeks, pressing one more, chaste kiss to your abused lips.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

You couldn’t help laughing, intertwining your fingers with his, feeling full of love and energy, and smelling of Yuta.

MASTERLIST

#yuta #nct yuta #yuta scenarios #yuta drabble #nct #nct au #nakamoto yuta #fan fiction #nct fanfic #toalltheficsivelovedbefore #yuta x reader #yuta x you #fem reader #yuta in leather

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chevysilverado10 · 3 years

Text

Automotive Advice On Subjects Related To Parking Lights

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raku-fansubs · 4 years

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An Eraser in My Head: Special Letter

Can I just say... if you’ve ever heard any of Kaji’s reading live, you’ll get addicted to it. This is an excerpt from the reading released yesterday, adaptation of A Moment to Remember (Japanese: 私の頭の中の消しゴム; Hepburn: Atama no Naka no Keshigomu, lit. "An Eraser in My Head").

EDIT: Kaji also put up a behind-the-scenes of the recording for this on his channel (see here).

youtube

Based on the 2001 Japanese melodrama Pure Soul: Even if You may Forget me (Japanese: Pure Soul 〜君が僕を忘れても〜; Hephurn: Pure Soul: Kimi ga Boku wo Wasuretemo), later adapted into a South Korean film in 2004 by the same title as this reading. It follows the theme of discovery in a relationship and the burdens of loss caused by Alzheimer's disease. [Wikipedia]

The schedule is as follows (available 10 days from starting date):

2 May 2020 (Sat): Kaji Yuki x Takagaki Ayahi

5 May 2020 (Sat): Fukuyama Jun x Manaka Ayu

8 May 2020 (Sat): Kato Kazuki x Ikoma Rina

15 May 2020 (Fri): Hirose Tomoki x Taketatsu Ayana

https://geki-keshigomu.spwn.jp/

https://ch.nicovideo.jp/geki-keshigomu

Unfortunately, Kaji’s session is now only available on nico for ¥3,000. I bought my ticket on the spwn platform and it came with several options: (¥3,000 for normal entry; ¥5,000 incl. pamphlet; ¥5,500 incl. script; ¥7,500 incl. pamphlet, script and postcards) so of course I had to get the last deal since I NEED that pamphlet and postcards. Keshigomu takes super high quality photos *coughs* I swear I’m not just after more ring shots of Kaji (Note: in case you’re new here, I’ve explained before about why Keshigomu’s pamphlets have ring shots)... and yes, TOTALLY not so that I can make poor-taste photo merging like this （*ﾟーﾟ）

Anyway, my point is... THIS WAS SO GOOD (I’m also trying to ignore the fact that Ayachi is part of the cast but not with Kaji) but regardless, his performance with Takagaki was great. I’ve been hearing rumours (good ones) about this particular project for YEARS so I’m so glad I finally got an opportunity to hear it from where I am. I swear, if I ever make plans to visit Japan again, I’ll schedule it during the period this is held (if they cast Kaji again). This must be experienced live in a theater...

One of the many reasons why I’m particularly invested in this show, is because his 2018 performance with Iitoyo Marie has been passed down like a legend among his fans. Long story short, he apparently cried his eyes out in that session, which is extremely rare for Kaji to do something like that live. Here’s a recent interview of him talking about the incident with the actress playing his partner then:

The actress and fashion model Iitoyo Marie, who co-starred in "An Eraser in My Head," has been invited for an interview that covers a wide range of topics, from acting to fashion, and it was truly an endless talk.

Q: I heard that you and Kaji performed together for the first time in the reading play "An Eraser in My Head". Can you tell us about your impressions of each other at that time?

Kaji: It's been about two years now?

Iitoyo: It has been 2 years.

Kaji: You're an actress who also works as a model, so my first impression was that you looked like someone who came out of a magazine (laughs). Even though we only had a short time to perform after two or three rehearsals, I felt that we had grown quite close during that time. If you think about it, that reading play was the only time we've worked together. However, I still have vivid memories of that time.

Iitoyo: It only lasted about 3 days, really. Didn't you think, "This girl hasn't practiced at all? (laughs) I was worried that I came off as an under-prepared actor.

Kaji: No, no (laughs). Anyway, the way you got into the show was amazing. Iitoyo-san’s gear completely switched from the rehearsal.

Iitoyo: That's not it, I was just really inspired by Kaji-san. That was the first time I had the opportunity to work with a voice actor. We work in different genres, but I assumed that acting is universal, so I was simply curious how he would act, yet he approached it in a completely different way! It was so shocking, that I thought for a second, if Kaji-san was serious about coming into the world of live-acting, the rest of us would be in quite a panic. He pulled me through the act, so I felt safe and entrusted to him, and the weight of each line felt completely different. Also, in the scene where Kaji-san was crying (during rehearsal), I thought "Kaji-san must really be crying now" and looked to my side, but he didn't shed a single tear at all! Not at all!

Kaji: I was crying on the inside! (laughs)

Iitoyo: But I was surprised that there were no tears at all. He sounded like he was really crying, so I asked him, "How can you do that?" When I asked him about it, he told me that in anime, there are often scenes that transition immediately, and those happen even right after an emotional scene. So voice actors have to be able to adapt to the next scene quickly, without being caught up with the emotions from the previous scene.

Kaji: I'm surprised you still remember that conversation.

Iitoyo: I was so impressed at that technique! But later on in the real session, Kaji-san was bawling his eyes out, with tears overflowing (laughs). I was just so happy about that! It made me genuinely happy to know that even a voice actor like Kaji-san "broke" and gone off the rails in a good way, and that's how great the show was. So it was unforgettable.

Kaji: I’m hardly the type to shed tears, but it was not the same in that performance. Not to say that’s precisely the reason why, but even though it was only a short time, it felt like a very fulfilling acting experience. That’s also why Iitoyo-san has left a deep impression on me.

Iitoyo: Since then, we’ve had quite a lot of clashes at work, haven’t we?

Kaji: That’s right, strangely enough. We haven’t had the opportunity to co-act directly though. But for some odd reasons, every once in a while I’ll notice that I see your name on the cast lineup again.

Iitoyo: It’s not that easy to find people like that especially from a different industry, so I’ve always felt a strange connection.

[Interview & Photo Source] Kaji Yuki en.365°PHOTO BOOK

P.S. As you can see, my scanner’s crap so I don’t have a habit of scanning photos. But if you’re just curious to have a look at the other pictures in the book, feel free to ask and I can take some casual low-quality photos of the contents.

Also I swear all I wanted to do was share that one-minute clip, please don’t ask me why I ended up spamming this chunk of words ‘cause I seriously have no idea myself (ಠ_ಠ)

#kaji yuki #seiyuu #an eraser in my head #iitoyo marie #taketatsu ayana #seiyuu reading

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aqvarius · 5 years

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[WALKTHROUGH + REVIEW + CG] Romance MD: Munechika Takado

Expectations:

To be honest I wasn’t super excited when I saw the trailer for Romance MD. I thought it was just going to be another teacher/student romance with the basic Voltage storylines where one or two events would get closer and they’d fall in love etc.). That being said, I was actually quite interested in most of the potential LIs even though they do seem quite conventional for the standard Voltage lineup (oresama, kuudere, darudere/4D, flirty, jokey but actually hardcore ossan). I do also like the character designs. The one I was most interested in was Kyogoku because I can’t place his type. He’s been described as a prodigy, not too empathetic, feisty, cute, has a chilly side, tricky, coy, shady, obsessed with Kasumi. So I think he’s actually one of those devil with an angel face types? Cute on the surface but actually a bit shady? Maybe it’s because of his character design but he just reminds me SO much of Shinonome from Her Love in the Force. I keep calling him Ayumu because of that and I think it would be interesting if they were actually similar because Ayumu is one of those characters that I think is quite unusual for Voltage games because he doesn’t completely fit into one of their usual archetypes.

Anyway, this is not about Sen. This is about Takado. I knew he was the title character for Romance MD but I still had all of my fingers crossed that we would get someone else’s route first like Finally in Love Again had Aki as the first release rather than Momoi (I think?). And some other games had title characters that weren’t the usual type (like Issei from Kiss of Revenge and Masaomi from Serendipity Next Door). I also think that the only characters released so far are Takado and Hosho (I’ve searched and searched to get CGs or ameblo posts about the other guys but to no avail). So I kinda hoped they would give us Hosho first LOL or maybe just surprise us all and give us Kasumi but alas.

Finally, my expectations going in were that Takado was going to be the quintessential oresama type (like Eisuke/Leon) because he has that spiky brown hair look lol? I also thought the MC was going to be like the standard MC. What a fool I was…

Click below to read the full review, plus walkthrough and CGs PLUS THE ELUSIVE MC SPRITE.

Reactions:

My first reaction is that this MC (henceforth Dr. MC) is so annoying. She wouldn’t stop running her mouth, she was arrogant, she seemed a little inconsistent? The guys accuse her of being a journal junkie at the beginning and to be honest, they’re kind of right. She’s super nerdy to the point where it’s kind of over the top? Don’t get me wrong, nerds are great. I’m a researcher. I moved to a new city to study under my academic crush too. I get it. Sometimes other MCs are annoying because they’re too wholesome and earnest. This time, it got to the point where I was begging to have OG MC traits back. I almost cried with relief when I first saw her demonstrate empathy.

I think the thing that made me dislike her almost immediately was how clinically she originally described the ICU team. It sort of felt like Voltage was trying to push the ‘these guys are beautiful!’ and the ‘Dr. MC doesn’t give a fuck about real men’ points too hard and it sort of became contradictory, especially because the narrative is read through the player’s/MC’s perspective. So she had to explain how ‘objectively’ good looking they all are without gushing and thus it became this very clinical expression of their looks while also really pushing that opposing point of “but I don’t care around real men”. I think that it would have been fine for MC to appreciate how good looking they are but sort of have a ‘snap out of it’/’pull yourself together’ moment where she reminds herself what she’s here for. Like I think it’s fine and probably in fact more relatable to be able to acknowledge handsome men and be a bookworm/academically inclined and also enjoy 2D men lol. You don’t have to treat people like specimens MC

(Just say he’s beautiful. We all know he is)

I get that they needed her to be special in some way so Matsunaga would hire her, but she could have gotten hired on talent alone. I don’t think they needed her to be all like “this kabedon does absolutely nothing to me”. Overall I think her being totally uninterested in dating doesn’t quite mesh from the perspective of the player. I’m assuming most of us play otome games because we’re interested in dating the characters or seeing them fall in love, right? The game tried to be meta and make fun of the shoujo manga/otoge tropes at least three times (e.g. kabedon, cooking for LI when they’re sick and getting close, wiping tears leading to a kiss) but honestly, I play these games to experience all that cheesy shit lol. So for me I didn’t think it was particularly clever to reference these tropes and play them off. The audience tends to play these games for these moments lmao? Right?

(I agree, Takado.)

The one thing that all Voltage MCs have, however, is persistence. And my God does Dr. MC have persistence in spades. I actually didn’t mind it too much but I think it’s because it was sort of turned into a bit of a joke so the humour kind of played a role in tamping down what might have otherwise been obnoxious (when she kept waking Takado up I was like omg just LET! HIM! SLEEP!). I do also like that Dr. MC is very competent. Her shortcomings don’t have anything to do with technical ability which is quite refreshing. In this game, Dr. MC is more just inexperienced and idealistic when it comes to the actual practice of medicine and its accompanying emotional (and otherwise) complications.

The thing that I feel is her biggest flaw is her arrogance. I know, right? A Voltage MC, arrogant?! It’s unthinkable!! Usually Voltage MCs are insecure, self-deprecating, self-doubting. At times they are competent enough, or have moments of inspiration that allow them to do well. This Dr. MC is clever, and she knows it. Unfortunately, just having read lots of journals does not a good doctor make. Luckily, she becomes more likable when she finally gets taken down a peg and actually starts listening to Takado. I feel like Voltage tried to switch up their MC personalities (as seen with Masquerade Kiss too) but I think they tried to make Dr. MC snarky and sassy but she just comes across as arrogant/rude a lot of the time, like have some respect for your seniors please. When it comes to backtalking MCs, I much prefer Ayumu’s or Toma’s (from Irresistible Mistakes) MC. But at least Dr. MC is not as awful as Luke Foster’s MC in Kissed by the Baddest Bidder. Luke’s MC is my least favourite of all time and I honestly think he needs to leave her.

Also! I think with the JP version, you can choose whether or not to have the MC sprite. In the Love 365 version, you aren’t given that choice but the elusive MC sprite does pop up randomly in one frame.

(Tbh I prefer it without the sprite bc her hair reminds me of 2015/2016 me lol)

Her interactions with the other doctors is quite enjoyable, particularly with Kyogoku and Hosho, although I have to admit they’re enjoyable because Kyogoku and Hosho are really fun. I especially enjoyed with Ekuni joined in and did like the little snippets of Kasumi time you get as well. I do wish there was more time spent in the Pen (with Kalmia!) but alas, you get what you can. Kyogoku seems nicer than I expected he would be (because I really thought he would be Ayumu 2.0 – maybe he will be in his own route, but he does come off nicer than that snarky devil Ayumu). Kasumi also seems less cold than I expected. Hosho and Matsunaga were basically how I thought they would be, and Ekuni too to some extent, although I wasn’t expecting Ekuni to be such a mum and give them custom drug cocktails to pump them full of nutrients lol. I want Ekuni (my future husband) route so badly. I’m going to end up with a whole folder of images of him with that internal dialogue board lol. I did enjoy some of her conversation with Sex Maniac/resident slut Hosho (when his route comes out I won’t forget that he went on a date with Sara from Cardio………..) as well but I feel like Dr. MC doesn’t react enough to be more interesting? I know I sound like a typical Voltage LI, you know when they’re always telling MC she’s interesting cause her face shows everything she’s thinking and they like her reactions? That me lmao. But when she does react, she overreacts. Like, she doesn’t react to intimate/sexual things but then she FLIPS OUT because Takado was AWOL for literally a day and she thinks he died. You know what, he wasn’t even AWOL, he was literally on his day off. Take a chill pill, Dr. MC - maybe Ekuni can whip up a special sedative blend for you.

Now, Takado… Takado is basically Kaga from Her Love in the Force as a doctor. Sadist, reputation as a murderer, relies on his intuition, has a violent tendency with MC, misunderstood but doesn’t care. His version of Kaga’s Iron Claw is hitting you on the back of the head, usually with a file. I really thought he was going to be an oresama type but he’s more of the rogue sadist type. I thought he was not that interesting until I finally got to chapter 17. Naturally he’s ~damaged~ lmao. But actually I enjoyed learning about his backstory. I expected him to be so bonesaw-happy because he hadn’t acted quickly enough in the past and it led to someone’s death that could have been prevented if he’d just taken their limb. The truth is actually quite a bit more complicated than that, so I did like that it wasn’t predictable. I won’t spoil his backstory but it was definitely an interesting take on the doctor-patient relationship and worked well to help Dr. MC overcome her naïveté. I will say that I feel like the number of amputations actually increased throughout the route lmao.

Speaking of HLITF, the route definitely took on an action spin that I wasn’t expecting. I was surprised that Romance MD is categorised in the Action section in Love 365 but I think the story ended up going in a direction that I’d expect from HLITF or MSB (or Metro PD? I haven’t played that though so idk) and it was quite thrilling and surprisingly dramatic. Also, as per usual, the gap moe is real with Takado. Voltage loves employing gap moe with their characters, but especially the oresama and stoic types.

Additional note: Something I really hate about Love Choice is that a lot of the time the LI backstory is hidden in a heart scene and you can only find out the truth if you pay for it. However, the route reverts back to the main text so it seems like you (MC) know what’s happened even if you (the player) don’t.

The dynamic between Takado and Dr. MC actually ends up being quite fun even though sometimes I think Dr. MC is just being disrespectful. They bicker like an old married couple. It’s like what Kaga and MC would be like if she ever dared to speak up against him lol. Takado is like Kaga in that he expresses his love more through actions. Honestly I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the moment he started to fall for Dr. MC even if you had a syringe of poison to my jugular. You basically only find out that he treats you differently because the other doctors have a grand old time teasing you about it. That being said, there are some nice scenes where you can spot Takado treating you specially if you squint a little. It’s fine that it’s not obvious; I think it would be out of character if he just confessed his feelings lol. Personally, I believe this is a marketing trick to get you to buy Takado PoV when it comes out.

The length of the stories (30 chapters) and the pacing did remind me of old school Voltage games which I liked. It was long enough to develop Takado, his backstory and have a plot with sufficient plot points. The length also gave the blooming relationship between Takado and Dr. MC enough time to mature without feeling too rushed. While I think this improves the story quality, it also really seems like a moneymaking ploy. That being said, at least they didn’t split the story up into two parts like HLITF 🙃.

I reread my old route reviews to remind myself how to review and I said that Goto’s route in My Sweet Bodyguard was not worth the £2.49 I spent on it. I can’t believe I only had to spend £2.49!! Regular routes in Love 365 are 400 coins which equates to £3.99 and I easily spent around £15+ on all the hearts needed for this lengthy LC route 😭. Obviously it would be even costlier if you needed to buy passes if you wanted to unlock chapters early. I didn’t keep track of how many hearts in total I spent but this ameblog says that you need 207 hearts to get all the heart scenes which translates to about £21 if you start with 0 hearts, which is honestly ridiculous. The same money could be spent on FIVE main routes (or other 400 coin stories). Or FOUR full bundles (MS, epilogue, sequel, sequel epilogue) from Seduced in the Sleepless City (i.e. sixteen stories). Or THREE full bundles from Pirates in Love. Or basically every available route for Subaru, Goto, Ishigami or Kurosawa in MSB.

So while you do get quite a lot of content, it is ridiculously expensive if you wanted Super Happy Ending. Don’t skip the heart scene in chapter 28 if you don’t want to miss a kiss scene. Chapter 7 “Apologize to Takado” doesn’t offer too much I believe. Chapter 22 “Ask for details” and 26 “Explain” options also don’t add too much imo. There are a total of 30 points available, so you can skip 5 points worth of heart scenes if you want SHE but don’t want to spend all those hearts.

You may like this route if you like rogue characters like Kaga and Shin from Pirates in Love. If you are really interested and are willing to pay, I suggest playing before 12/08 (12 August) to get the collector’s edition so at least it won’t feel like a waste of money. I really wish Voltage would get rid of Love Choice and just let us buy routes, but they likely never will because they probably earn so much more with LC compared to regular routes. The normal ending is good enough honestly, he actually confesses in NE and not in SHE, but in SHE you get a kiss scene and CG. I think ultimately it would be more worth saving up your hearts for another LI like Kyogoku lol... or Kasumi (but not my future husband Ekuni because I can already tell that I want him all for myself).

I forgot to make note of how many hearts each heart scene costs before I spent the hearts unfortunately so I’m just taking the word of the blogger who says it costs 207 in total. I know there quite a few options that require ~20 hearts.

ETA: I went through my heart spending history and found the prices of each heart scene

Walkthrough and CGs below:

25 points to Super Happy Ending

Ch 1

Observe Help Takado (Love Meter +1/CG) 5 hearts

Ch 2

Wait till later. Flip back the covers.

Ch 3

Missy Takado

Ch 4

“This isn’t a conversation.” “You’re missing the point.”

Ch 5

Ignore him. “It’s not every little thing.’”

Ch 6

Apologize Offer an excuse.

Ch 7

Don’t apologize to Takado. Apologize to Takado (Love Meter +2) 8 hearts

Ch 8

“Teach me!” “What’s got you in a snit?”

Ch 9

“I’m not ready to die!” “I value my time, you know!” (pick this one to see Kasumi being funny)

Ch 10

Stick a hand on the wall. Lean on Takado (Love Meter +1) 10 hearts

Ch 11

A scalpel. An aspirator (Love Meter +3) 13 hearts

Ch 12

Tail him. Chase him and shout

Ch 13

Ask Takado. Ask Kasumi.

Ch 14

Don’t ask. “I want to know.” (Love Meter +1) (pick this one if you want to hear about Takado’s backstory. If you select “Don’t ask” the first time, they will ask you again if you want to know and it costs 15 hearts)

Ch 15

Ask about the Pen. Ask about Takado. (Love Meter +1) 8 hearts

Ch 16

My duty as a doctor compelled me. I was worried about him. (Love Meter +2) 10 hearts

Ch 17

Avoid his potential wrath. Ask. (Love Meter +3) (pick this one to hear Takado’s full backstory) 15 hearts

Ch 18

Go back to sleep. Carefully sit up (Love Meter +1/CG) 13 hearts

Ch 19

Stay silent, like Takado Defend Takado

Ch 20

Stay out of it Insist on examining the woman (Love Meter +2) 10 hearts

Ch 21

“And then they’d kiss.” “And it’d get all tragic.”

Ch 22

Ignore him Ask for details (Love Meter +1) 10 hearts

Ch 23

Give up for now Talk to Takado again (Love Meter +3) 20 hearts (fml)

Ch 24

“I’m off.” “Dr. Takado…”

Ch 25

Don’t go. Follow Takado.

Ch 26

Feel sorry for him.14 hearts Explain. (Love Meter +2)

Ch 27

“No need.” “Tell me, then.” (Love Meter +1/CG) 15 hearts

Ch 28

Get some sleep. Stay with Takado (Love Meter +3) (kiss scene) 19 hearts

Ch 29

Call Dr. Kasumi. Don’t call him yet. (Love Meter +3) (if you choose to call Kasumi, you get a second chance to not call him which costs 22 hearts fml. If you don’t call him, you get quite a cute scene with the iCU team)

#romance md #romance md: always on call #rmdaoc #munechika takado #voltage inc #otome blog #review #otome game #voltage otome #otome romance #walkthrough #otome walkthrough #love 365 #love choice #voltage

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takingcourage · 5 years

Text

A Whole New Ballgame

Pairing: Drake x MC

Word Count: 2,150

Summary: Drake experiences his first Major League Baseball game with a very enthusiastic wife at his side.

Note: Ever since the topic of a sports field came up during the tour of Valtoria, I’ve had this burning need for Drake Walker to attend a baseball game in America. This silly story has been a WIP for more than a year, but I got distracted writing other things and never finished it. Since PB has decided to send the crew to the US again in TRH, it seemed like the perfect time to dust it off and boot it out of my drafts folder.

This story also fulfills a request that I received for a kiss on the back of the hand.

“Do I really have to wear the hat, Wittman?”

His wife assessed him quietly, grey eyes barely visible from under the bill of her own cap. “I’m not going to make you, but it would help make sure that no one recognizes us,” she considered with a shrug. “We want to blend in with the fans here. And dressing up is part of the baseball experience…”

Drake yanked the bright red cap over his hair and considered his appearance in their rearview mirror. The brim of the hat smacked the edge of the sun visor as he turned to get a look at the strands of hair shooting out from underneath the sweatband. “I look like an American.”

“You’re half American…”

“That doesn’t mean I have to dress like one.”

“Here,” she motioned for him to turn toward her. Jena pulled the cap back off his head, smoothing over the hair that fell to his forehead. His eyes closed involuntarily at the feeling of her nails dragging lightly against his scalp. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Too soon, she tugged the cap forward again before making some final adjustments to brush the hair away from his ears.

Drake had to admit that she’d done a better job than he had, but he still felt a bit silly brandishing a big white T across the crown of his head. The light in his wife’s eyes made it worthwhile, however. “Let’s go before you find something else for me to put on. I think the jersey and the hat are enough.”

“Drake, I promise you’ll be in good company. There are going to be a ton of people wearing Beltre jerseys. The man just retired after playing since the ‘90s.”

“I suppose it’s better than,” he leaned back in the seat to read her shirt, “better than Odor.”

“It’s pronounced Oh-door.”

“And you chose him because...?”

She colored vibrantly, mumbling, “Because he has a mean right hook.”

Drake gaped at his wife in disbelief. “This from the woman who doesn’t condone violence and nearly lost her mind when I agreed to fight a stuck-up nobleman?”

“Bautista kind of deserved it…” she offered, smiling as she made an exaggerated show of checking her face in the mirror. “And baseball players are always getting into fights. Haven’t you ever heard of bench-clearing brawls?”

“Sure, Wittman. I think you’ve got a thing for men who can throw punches.”

“Nope, just you.” She angled her face up to kiss his stubbled jaw, careful to avoid stabbing him with the end of her hat. “Let’s go, Walker.”

_____

As it happened, Drake felt a lot less ridiculous once they’d made it into the stadium. By the time they’d found their way to their seats and settled in, he was little more than a drop in the ocean of red, white, and blue.

Jena sat beside him, completely enthralled. It was only the bottom of the first, but Drake found himself wondering if she could keep up this level of concentration for the entire game. He thought back to the other sporting events he’d seen with her, but couldn’t ever remember her being so fully engrossed in what was happening.

Before the trip, she'd warned him that baseball was her weakness. Drake supposed he’d soon find out just what she’d meant by the expression.

His eyes flicked to the scoreboard. If the numbers there were any indication, the third man in the Rangers’ lineup was likely to meet the same hitless fate as his the other two.

Sure enough, the first pitch was a swing and a miss.

Strike one!

Jena clapped for the pitcher enthusiastically, ponytail bobbing with the force of her movements. “C’mon! Three up, three down. Let’s go!”

Drake shook his head with amusement. “I thought we were supposed to be cheering for Texas?”

Her eyes still on the pitcher, Jena stretched a hand out toward him. “Today, I’m just cheering for good baseball.”

Squeezing her fingers, he lifted their hands to his lips and kissed just beneath the hinge of her wrist. “Then I hope you get it.”

Far as he was from understanding her obsession, he couldn’t complain at the opportunity it provided for just the two of them to get away from the ranch. After spending so many hours packed into Liam’s rental car, a full afternoon and evening with just his wife for company felt like a luxury.

A young boy in the row before theirs teetered, his sudden movement drawing Drake from his thoughts. The child stood on one leg, holding a baseball in one hand while the other was swallowed by a stiff leather glove. He couldn’t be more than four or five years old, tongue between his teeth as he mimicked the stance that was being demonstrated on the field. With expert control, the boy threw his leg forward and swung his arm, hand never releasing its grip on the ball.

Drake forced his eyes away, but not before his lips had curved into a grin.

Strike two!

“This certainly isn’t his first game,” Jena observed, having followed her husband’s gaze.

“Heh, I guess not. Looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

“He just needs somebody to catch for him.” Her grey eyes darted from the field to her husband.

Drake observed the group of people, trying to discern the relationship dynamics. “Doesn’t look like his sister is interested in playing.” Indeed, in the matter of minutes he’d been aware of the family sitting before them, he didn’t think she’d looked up from her book once.

Strike three!

The inning over, Jena leaned back in the hard plastic seat and gave Drake her full attention. “You’re going to be a great catcher someday.”

His heart stuttered as he took the full meaning of her words. “I can’t wait to teach our kids all of that stuff. Come to think of it, I’ll probably have to teach Bartie those things too. Can’t see Bertrand taking him outside with a ball and glove.”

Jena’s brow wrinkled in thought. “You never know. I think he’s done better with the whole fatherhood thing than either of us would have expected. He may just surprise us.”

Drake grunted, feigning interest in watching the mascot dance across home-team’s dugout. It was going to be a long time before the elder Beaumont actually felt like a member of family.

“But our kids will always have the advantage when it comes to sports, Walker.”

Smirking, he remembered his own childhood. “I used to be a catcher, you know. A long time ago.”

“I know,” she chimed in. From under the shadow of her hat brim, he could see her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smirked back. Her fingers drifted to his leg -- higher than his knee, but not high enough to get them thrown out of the park. “I think that’s why you have such great thighs,” she whispered behind his ear.

He shivered against her words, incredulous for more than one reason. Quietly clearing his throat, he covered her hand with his own, daring her to keep them there as he spoke. “It’s been almost fifteen years since I’ve played, Wittman. There’s no way that experience has anything to do with the state of my thighs today.”

“Just take the compliment, Walker.”

He breathed a heavy sigh and slid both of their hands toward his knee. At this rate, it was going to be an extraordinarily long day.

_____

Baseball was proving more time consuming than Drake remembered. More than an hour into the game, they still hadn’t come to the end of the third inning, nor had the action on the field been particularly noteworthy. Sucking a deep breath and reaching for his drink, he scanned crowd around them. The boy he’d noticed before had traded his glove and ball for a cup of frozen lemonade. His sister remained just as intent on her novel.

Drake tried to imagine a much-younger version of his wife coming to games with her grandpa, her mitt poised and hair sticking out in pigtails under her hat. The mental image made him smile.

More than that, it made him wonder for the thousandth time what it would be like for them to have children of their own. That was the whole purpose of leaving early for this trip, wasn’t it? Somewhat glumly, he tried to work out how much time remained of not only this game, but the one that followed.

Damn doubleheader...

Out of nowhere, Jena’s palm made sharp contact with his knee, jolting him from his sundry musings.

"Ow!” he winced instinctively.

"Did you see that? Did you see that double play? It was...” she paused for a moment to evaluate the field. “I think it was a 1-3-2-5-3-4...″

"It’s a little late for you to be giving me your number, don’t you think?”

The comment earned him an exasperated sigh.

"You missed it!" she accused, reading the uncertainty in his eyes. The flecks of silver shone brilliantly, even though her frustration was feigned. “What a way to end an inning.”

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Wittman?” he inquired, taking advantage of having her undivided attention while the teams switched places. “I thought the whole purpose of coming out here early was to get some peace and quiet. You don’t seem very calm.”

Jena tapped one long nail to her lip, drawing his eyes to that feature in a way that he knew was calculated to distract him from further critiques. “I will be very calm when we get back to the ranch. I promise.”

“Still, I bet the press would have a field day if they knew we were spending nine hours watching baseball when we could be ensuring Cordonia’s future.”

She scoffed and straightened in her chair. “Watching baseball is a very effective form of stress relief, which makes this an extremely tactical approach,” she explained, allowing her calf to brush the side of his.

“It’s not a great strategy if it stresses me in the process,” he argued, ignoring the contact.

Jena’s lips kinked up in a mischievous smile. “I’ll help you calm down later.”

_____

By the time the first game had drawn to a close, Drake was running with a theory that this sport had been invented as a form of torture -- especially for men with beautiful, baseball-loving wives. It had been days since they’d had this much time to spend alone together, but the most he’d gotten out of her was a quick series of kisses after the first and only home run.

During their time in the States, Jena’s freckles had come out in the sun, and his eyes kept drifting over the feature with curiosity. For the better part of the last hour, he’d been fantasizing over the thought of kissing each and every one...

A pair of fingers hooked through the crook of his elbow, gliding softly against the sensitive flesh in the crease. The hairs on Drake’s neck stood tall as he felt his wife’s proximity.

“We can leave if you want to. I’m not going to make you sit through another game if you’re miserable.”

Drake recognized the olive branch she’d extended, but he wasn’t about to take away from something she so clearly loved. “I’m not miserable.”

She regarded him dubiously.

“I mean, it gives me time with you, doesn’t it? And you’re obviously loving every minute of this. I’ve gotta say, Wittman, watching how much you’re getting into this is actually kinda fun.”

Jena scratched the side of her nose a bit sheepishly. “I can tone it down if it’s too much.”

“Nope. Don’t you dare.”

Her fingers tightened at his arm, and he covered them with a hand. “I won’t. Though I will try not to smack you again.”

“I appreciate it.”

“And I really will make it up to you later,” she purred, the words designed for his ears alone. “But for now,” she told him, voice growing lighter, “I’m going to stretch my legs for a while. I’ll be back in a few minutes. ”

Jena rose and stretched her entire body upward, popping up on her toes before she arched her back into a tantalizing curve. Eyes following her every move, he felt his resolve of just a minute before was quickly slipping away.

Drake tried to maintain an innocent tone as he asked, "How long before I can take you home?" And get you back in bed? He didn't state the destination, but the sparkle in her eye told him she’d taken the hint.

"I'm guessing at least another four hours. Get comfy, Walker."

“Will do. But Wittman?”

She leaned down toward him, fingertips brushing his knees.

“Any chance baseball games in Valtoria could have a time limit?”

#i don't love how this turned out #but i need it out of my draft folder #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #the royal romance #the royal heir #drake walker #drake x mc

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hotarutranslations · 4 years

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The Story Goes From Conan to Yoyogi!

Evening Its Ishida Ayumi

It was announced!!

Next years Conan!!

Theatrical Movie “Detective Conan Scarlet Bullet”

The Akai family, does it mean there will be a lot of progression in this movie? I’m looking forward to it

I’m also looking forward to the theme song

B’z-san “Sekai wa Anata no Iro ni Naru” Kuraki Mai-san “Togetsukyou ~Kimi Omoufu~”

Fukuyama Masaharu-san “Rei -ZERO-“

Tosaka Hiroomi-san “BULL SAPPHIRE”

I like all of the latest theme songs…

The lyrics are linked to the movie and view of the world,

Since it pulls you into the movie even more,

When the main part of the movie is over,

You’re tightly pulled in by the theme song,

Its just a bit till the very end,

Its interesting, and a gentle scene comes

Its enjoyable as it being the whole work together! I sometimes end up being impressed with how it balances the whole work…!←

When I found out about the information,

Haga Akane-chan and,

Yokoyama Reina-chan were with me,

It became like,

“I want to guess the title!!!”

Its about OO with OO you know… the two of them really thought about it but,

Since its pretty difficult,

I thought about giving a hint,

They saw the announcement poster (the one where Akai-san is written big and in red), and Akanechin said,

“The Red Stranger”

(lol) (lol) (lol) (lol) (lol)

Its unlikely but it seems possible…←

But those people aren’t strangers,

The family wrapped in mystery,,,

How will Conan be related to it,,,

If Akai-san making an appearance, there will be a lot of action, perhaps it will be an intense movie! Uwaa, how fun!

Theatrical Movie “Detective Conan Scarlet Bullet”

It’s a blog for people that are looking forward to its release ❤ ←

Switching over,

Tomorrow Morning Musume ’19 is,

At National Yoyogi First Stadium,

Having a tour final concert

Today in the same place was a live,

I went to the Juice=Juice performance!

The 2 new members joined,

Kanazawa Tomoko-chan became the leader

It was the first time with this lineup on a big stage

The words Kanatomo conveyed at the last MC, I could feel a large sense of gratitude towards the fans, Juice=Juices back bone of the family~ its wonderful~ is what I thought,

Listening to their live singing voices,

It was naturally cool I applauded--!

Sayuki-chan and Ruru-chan,

When it was like, they decided to sing--!!

The cheers naturally rose up,

I was also experiencing that

After all,

With my mind was also that I will stand there tomorrow,

How far away the audience is,

How the audience will get excited,

From where they’ll be watching,

In any case I’m looking forward to tomorrow…

Eh, I’m really looking forward to it!

How is everyone else!

Are you feeling good about it!

There are also Goods Details

Tour Final Parka

Also those watching it at the live viewing,

Those watching it via the live stream from BS Sky Perfect!,

Of course those who are coming to the venue,

Everyone will get passionate

I’ll do my best towards a wonderful finale

Those watching from the venue, its been given the OK to take photos of the concert with your phone,,,,Properly charge your phone~!?←

(I’m the type to stop during important moments)

Watching today, I thought that it seemed particularly difficult to get a photo of 1 person~, taking a picture of the whole thing lined up, perhaps it will be cool to take photos like what we often post on our blogs

As you all know,

Morning Musume will keep moving

Among us Ishida will, ok←

Doesn’t it feel like you’ll be taking a lot of blurry pictures of me!! By the way I wont be reluctant to move!!

If you are undergoing this challenge, it wont count at MC’s There I will stop as well of course since I’m not a tuna lol

Those at the venue that want to enjoy it without taking photos,

Those that want to take photos for their memory,

Both of you are coming,

Just recognizing this is good,

If you don’t then I feel like it will change a little!

Thank you for your support!!!

See you ayumin ❤

https://ameblo.jp/morningmusume-10ki/entry-12552860371.html

#Ishida Ayumi #Morning Musume '19 #Morning Musume #Juice=Juice #Haga Akane #Yokoyama Reina #Hello! Project #Translation #Blog

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narukouzumakinamikaze · 4 years

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Hmmm .... Why?

I consider myself a hardcore casual player when it comes to pokemon. What I mean by that is that I'm a hardcore fan of pokemon, and I would tend to buy and play the games as they released, but I would play them casually. Meaning no shiny hunting. No pokedex, no competitive. So in regards to sword and shield I should want to play these games because I love pokemon but not so much so that I care about any of the mechanics and cuts right?

I mean I don't care about the national DeX, I've never wanted to catch them all. I tried once and my brother erased my entire game and I gave up after that.

I don't care about game length I've never thought any of these games were particularly long anyway and I never paid attention to how long I played these games for anyway.

It cant be the gameplay or the story because nothing has changed about pokemon's formula at all. I'm doing the exact same thing and following the exact same story beats from the first generation. I'm not expecting anything new or exciting game play wise or story wise. I'm expecting the exact same pokemon experience I've always gotten and I've never been mad about that. The open field and pokemon spawning arent new to me, I've played let's go pikachu, I dont expect anything different than how they spawned in that game because I've experienced pokemon spawning and it was eh. And I've never cared for an open world to explore. So these new things don't interest me. They dont turn me off either. Its just eh.

It cant be the graphics because pokemon never had a problem with graphics. To me anyway. I expected better graphics on a switch game so I'm not in awe that the graphics are somewhat better.

What about the gyms? The stadium seems cool I guess, but that's about it. They're more livelier than previous gym battles and I'm not mad at that. I actually like that aspect of sword and shield. But other than that the gyms dont seem all that different than other gyms. You solve a puzzle and get to the stadium. Nothing different, it's just livelier.

It cant be the pokemon. I actually like this generations pokemon. The starters are still terrible though, but they're a bit better than black and white starters, but not by much. They might be on equal footing. But black and white had the worst pokemon lineup in my opinion and I like this generations line up.

So what is it about sword and shield? It cant be any of these things because I would still enjoy the game no matter what because it's the same thing. Is it because this is the first generation in which i followed pokemon until its release? I blame leon for that. If I didnt know anything I may have still gotten the game. Hell my brother doesn't even want the game anymore because he heard some things about it and didn't like what he heard.

But even then these things wouldnt have really deterred me. I think it's because all the new added in the game are pointless. Max raids are pointless. Giant pokemon is stupid and pointless. The main characters are ugly and I'm a shallow person. Pokemon camp is eh, it's cute I guess but pokemon Amie was cute too. Curry making is the same as making Poke blocks. But these are things I enjoyed that they rehashed. Customizing your character was fine in X and Y when it was new, but I dont care about it now because the clothes never look right on the character anyway. So why does it seem like less.

Idk, I may still play when its on sale or borrow the game from my cousins friend. I just feel like this game is going to be lackluster. Which is weird because it's not anything new.

As a side note, I really miss the rollerblades. That was fun.

#pokemon #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword #pokemon shield

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muthaz-rapapa · 5 years

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Idol Precure Series: A Gratuitous Costume Parade

Because that is literally what this is. An excuse to dress everyone up in cute clothes.

Not complaining, though. The girls look fabulous~

Anyways, y’all aware they were grouped together because of what their civilian identities have in common, right?

Well, that’s how I see it so I typed this up so I can use it for reference later.

Initially, it was just a companion (?) piece to this StarPre prediction post (therefore, the StarPre girls haven’t been included yet so go check out that post until they are) but now I’ll come back to edit/update it again when more new stuff is released or I find better quality pictures.

I also have some ideas for possible new groups if they ever add or mix-and-switch the current ones but that’ll be on another post altogether to avoid confusing myself, ahaha~

Anata no kokoro o mitoshi-tai (Team “I see through your heart”)

Members: Yukishiro Honoka, Hanasaki Tsubomi, Tsukikage Yuri, Shirabe Ako, Yakushiji Saaya

At a glance, it seems like they put all the smart ones together but it’s really because these girls all wear glasses.

Yep, the meganekko group.

I mean, they are smart but the key point here is clearly the glasses. Which is a tad bit of a shame because I feel like that (moe aspect) takes away from recognizing them for their intelligence first.

On another note, interestingly enough, I believe there’s a play on words with their unit name. If you say it out loud without knowing the context, it really sounds like “I want to look into your heart”. Can someone confirm this? My amateur Japanese isn’t enough to explain it eloquently.

Others who can fit into this group: Hishikawa Rikka

Bunbu Ranbu (”Martial Dance”)

Members: Myoudouin Itsuki, Aoki Reika, Yotsuba Alice, Hikawa Iona

Martial arts practitioners.

Also, I’m pretty sure Reika knows some kendo along with kyūdō since we’ve seen her wielding a giant ice sword as Cure Beauty multiple times throughout the franchise. We just didn’t see her do it in civilian form. Hmm. :/

Others who can fit into this group: ...

Eternal Moment

Members: Higashi Setsuna (Eas), Akagi Towa (Twilight)

Former villainesses who turned good and became a main heroine.

I’m so glad they didn’t forget about their evil alter-egos cuz Eas and Twilight (or perhaps just Twilight) can be considered separate characters in their own rights so it’s nice to see them show up in advertisement again every once in a while.

Hmmm, their name though... it looks like this unit might only be intended for two people (”Eternal” for Towa and “Moment” for “Setsuna”).

That is, unless they add onto it like HNMH (see below) if they plan to include more girls into this category. If so, then...

Others who can fit into this group: Kurokawa Ellen, Lulu Amour

Mystic Diva

Members: Kurokawa Ellen, Kenzaki Makoto

Haresora Concerto (”Clear Sky Concerto”)

Members: Minazuki Karen, Hojo Hibiki

Haresora Concerto with Mystic Diva (collab?)

Additional members: Tategami Aoi

Girls with strong affiliation to music...I think?

We saw Karen playing the violin in Yes!5 Precure’s OP and her parents are famous musicians themselves (just like Hibiki’s) but I can’t recall if she ever played any instrument during any particular episode in Yes! 5 or Gogo(?). Anyways...

Mystic Diva contains those who are renowned singers from another world (I don’t think Ellen sang much after she sorta permanently remained in human form but as Siren, she was one of the top contenders next to Hummy to sing the Melody of Happiness so there’s that).

Haresora Concerto obviously are for those who practice classical instruments.

Finally, the collaboration...is it a collaboration or did they really merge the two units together? If not, then Aoi will still need to be assigned to a group and if we’re going by the above criteria, she doesn’t fit into either one (Mystic Diva isn’t really her style anyway and she’s long given up the violin to play the guitar).

Maybe they’ll come up with another unit specifically focused on the rock genre in the future cuz we have Emiru and Lulu now so that’ll be enough to start one.

Others who can fit into Mystic Diva: Lulu Amour (+ guitar) [??]

Granted, Lulu didn’t sing before she arrived in present day Hugtto but she did say she’s going to bring music back to the future so...why not count that and the future as “another world”, hmm?

Others who can fit into Haresora Concerto: Yotsuba Alice (piano), Haruno Haruka (violin), Akagi Towa (violin), Kaidou Minami (violin) [??]

I don’t really associate Minami with music even though she is skilled at playing the violin. It’s just that compared to Towa and Haruka where the violin played a significant part in their story arcs, Minami and the violin is more secondary (pfft, not even) to her connection with the sea. But then again...Karen is in this group so I dunno :S

Did I forget anyone else who plays a classical instrument? I feel like I’m missing someone...

Others who can join the collab: Everyone listed above + Kasugano Urara (singing), Aisaki Emiru (singing, piano, violin and guitar)

Haruka Nozomu Mirai no Hana (”Wishing for the Flower of the Far Off Future”)

Members: Yumehara Nozomi, Haruno Haruka, Asahina Mirai, Nono Hana

The dream chasers.

And by far, the unit I find the most aesthetically pleasing. ^^

Also, I feel like some people would try to argue that Mirai “didn’t have a goal and therefore, she doesn’t belong in this group” so as she is my beloved daughter, I need to make them eat the dirt of their WRONGNESS.

Because MahoPre’s epilogue obviously showed her trying to find a way to reunite with Riko and Ha-chan, aka bring their two worlds together again, so that definitely counts as her dream (not to mention, the most ambitious one out of everybody else’s in this group). Furthermore, if you actually watched MahoPre more closely, you would know her dream of the two worlds coming together came to her gradually rather than happening at a particular moment and was solidified after she had to separate from her team after the Big Boss fight in the finale.

And you know what? Her wish was fulfilled in the end so y’all can suck it. :P

Others who can fit into this group: ...

Home Maid

Members: Kujo Hikari, Minamino Kanade, Madoka Aguri, Omori Yuko, Usami Ichika, Arisugawa Himari

Cooking or maybe, more accurately, sweets enthusiasts? *makes side eye at Aguri*

Well, besides that, they also either helped out at a restaurant or provided a service that had something to do with food (tea ceremony in Aguri’s case).

Hence, the “maid” part, I guess...

...but if so, then this is a poster for a maid cafe, not an idol unit! :P

Others who can fit into this group: Hyuuga Saki (family runs a bakery) [?], Akimoto Komachi (family runs a Japanese confectionery shop) [?], Hino Akane (family runs an okonomiyaki restaurant) [?], Haruno Haruka (family runs a Japanese confectionery restaurant) [?], Kotozume Yukari (learned from her grandmother how to perform tea ceremonies) [?], Kirahoshi Ciel (owns her own sweets restaurant), Nono Hana (grandparents ran a Japanese confectionery shop)

With the exception of Ciel, a lot of “?” cases here because similar to the Karen/Minami in Haresora Concerto, their main interests don’t particularly lie in cuisine and most of them never stated any intention of carrying on their family business. So it’s really up to whether you want them in this unit or not. Personally, I think Home Maid has enough members already so...

Oh and Hana was crossed off the list since she became the president of her own company at the end of Hugtto.

M.V.P.

Members: Misumi Nagisa, Hyuuga Saki, Natsuki Rin, Hino Akane, Midorikawa Nao

This one’s self-explanatory. Athletes. Sporty types.

Not much else to say.

Others who can fit into this group: Hojo Hibiki, Kagayaki Homare (?)

Yes, while Homare does participate in a sport, singles figure skating is mostly an individual event so the MVP title can’t really be applied to her. I guess that was the reasoning behind why she wasn’t placed in this group even though that’s what she’s most known for.

Osha-Revolution

Members: Kurumi Erika, Shirayuki Hime, Kagayaki Homare

The fashionistas!

This is my most favorite idol unit name out of all the others not only because it sounds like the most cleverly thought out but also because just hearing the word “revolution” gets the legendary Utena Revolution OP playing in my head again. *jams to the beat*

Thankfully, it’s got no connection to this idol series cuz *GAAASP*......*whispers* no.

Anyways, I’m glad it’s universally agreed upon that Erika and Hime would get along like five runways crisscrossing simultaneously at Fashion Week. Adding Homare to this lineup is appropriate because she’s always being complimented for dressing so stylishly.

Also, having someone as tall as her stand in between Erika and Hime like a giraffe hanging between two Hyacinth Macaws, lol is really...picture perfect.

Others who can fit into this group: ...

Secret Lives

Members: Mimino Kurumi, Hanami Kotoha, Kirahoshi Ciel

Mascots who can transform and became one of the main heroines in their respective seasons.

I like their aesthetic, too. Even though they give off cute vibes as much as any of the other idol groups, there’s still a “mystery” air about them.

Others who can fit into this group: Kurokawa Ellen (?)

Ermmm...Ellen was a mascot but she wasn’t aligned with the good side in the beginning. And after she became a Cure, she didn’t revert back to cat form again... *shrug*

Soushi⇄Souai (”Mutual Love with Creativity”)

Members: Mishou Mai, Akimoto Komachi, Hoshizora Miyuki, Kise Yayoi

Those whose strongest weapon is the pen (or brush) in their hand. Or something like that? I was trying to go for something more artful but I guess not. :P

This group’s name gave me a little trouble in translating but I think what I settled for in the end gets the idea across well enough. They love creating so much that they’ll be rewarded in kind with lots of inspiration.

...which sounds a bit unfair for everyone else suffering creative blocks but okay.

Others who can fit into this group: Nono Hana

Triple Heart

Members: Momozono Love, Aida Mana, Aino Megumi

The love-obsessed.

Not much else to say here either.

Others who can fit into this group: ...

Up to Me

Members: Aono Miki, Izayoi Riko, Kotozume Yukari

The Ladies.

At least that’s what I like to think them as. “Up to Me” gives off the impression of a very decisive person. Along with how mature they act, these girls fit that description to their own special degrees.

Like, Miki is very focused on her modeling career and confident she’ll go far, Riko has good work ethic and always aims for her goals and Yukari is, well, good at almost everything and is also a very “my pace” kind of woman.

...they all have purple hair, too, so I’m wondering if that’s another prerequisite for being added to this unit.

Others who can fit into this group: Tsukikage Yuri, Kenzaki Makoto (?)

Yuri would fit in no problem but Makoto I’m still teetering back and forth on...

Urara*Kirara

Members: Kasugano Urara, Amanogawa Kirara

Ra♪Raa♪Raaa♪Raaaa♪Raaaaa♪ Suīto Suīto Puri-Kyu=AH♪

Girls who aspire for the stage (acting and signing for Urara and modeling for Kirara) and have “-rara” in their names.

If that’s the case here, guess this is another unit meant for anyone who fits those limited criteria. Otherwise...

Others who can fit into this group: Aono Miki (modeling), Kenzaki Makoto (singing)

White Coat Angels

Members: Yamabuki Inori, Hishikawa Rikka, Kaidou Minami, Kenjou Akira

Those with a future in medicine.

But Minami...hmm, well, though it was never clearly stated what her profession was (I don’t think?) when she grew up, she could’ve gone on to become a wildlife veterinarian after she achieved her degree in marine biology so yea, she counts.

Others who can fit into this group: Minazuki Karen, Yakushiji Saaya

Exclusive??

Kiratto! Open to All

Members: Kira Kira Precure a la Mode

Twin Love

Members: Aisaki Emiru, Lulu Amour

Pretty damn sure the first one was made specially just for KiraPre. No other girls sport blatant animal imagery on them. Plus, there’s no point in including anymore members than how many this group already has.

As for Twin Love, it’s a canon idol pair unit in Hugtto. Adding anyone else in it would not make it “Twin” Love anymore.

So that leaves the question of where Emiru and Lulu will go in the next series, I guess. Though I’m sure they’ll stick together wherever they’re assigned.

Side B

Royal Road

Members: Kokoda Koji (Coco), Natts, Ouji Masamune, Prince Kanata

Fairy Five

Members: Amai Shiro (Syrup), Pop, Raquel, Lance, Aroma

Did anyone else think that “Side B” also stood for “Side Boys” before Dark Party was released? (And yes, I know what a B-side track is so you don’t have to tell me)

Anyways, Royal Road is obviously for the prince characters (though I don’t think they really needed to add Ouji-senpai since he’s just a minor recurring character, not supporting but whatever) and Fairy Five is for the younger male mascots who can transform.

Others who can fit into Royal Road: Prince Zeke, Wakamiya Henri, Aisaki Masato (?)

If Dark Dream can join an idol unit despite being a movie-only character, then I don’t see why they can’t integrate Prince Zeke into this unit as well. All that matters is how popular or memorable he was in HaCha’s movie because everyone who was picked out for Side B had to have had an impact on the audience one way or another. But at least Zeke makes more sense than Ouji-senpai.

Henri needs no explanation as he is the “Prince of the Ice” but if you want a prince to accompany his occasional “princess” role, including Masato wouldn’t be a bad idea. Though I still think Masato’s more of a knight than a prince.

Others who can fit into Fairy Five: Kuroro (?)

Granted, Kuroro only got a human form by combining powers with Lock in the final battle of Go!Pri and hasn’t technically earned it yet since he only begun fairy training when the season ended...but if he can, why not?

The Enemy Boys

Members: Irisawa Kiriya, Luntarou (Wolfrun), Kurosu (Close), Rio (Julio/Pikario)

Off-White

Members: Soular, Westar, Phantom, Shut

“The Enemy Boys” ...more like “School Infiltrators” since they were the few among villains to pose as students in order to get closer to the Cures.

Off-White consists of bishounen villains who eventually came around to understanding and siding with the good side. Which explains the “off white” part, I guess, since it wasn’t an immediate reform for them but a more gradual one that needed a lot of persuasion and thinking.

Others who can fit into The Enemy Boys: ...

Others who can fit into Off-White: Charaleet

Precure Legendary Heroes

Members: Cure Fire (Ban Kenji), Cure Sebastian (Sebastian)

Dark Party

Members: Dark Dream, Dark Precure, Regina, Bibury Vibry

Legendary Heroes is clearly a parody of the Precure franchise itself but since we already grew out of those jokes thanks to Hugtto, I’m hoping I won’t see any updates for this group ever again. And I will be absolutely livid if they dare to put Cure Infini in this unit because that is not funny.

Dark Party needs no extensive explanation as they were former nemesis/rivals to the Cures who never really got a “good” form even after their Heel-Face Turn (Dark Precure didn’t even get one of these). Which is fine because that’s essentially their charm. What makes dark magical girls so appealing is how awesome they are even when they’re “evil”.

Also gotta love the gothic lolita clothes that a number of them usually wear. If they didn’t keep Side B separate from Side A, I totally would’ve liked to put Eas and Twilight in this group as well.

Others who can fit into Dark Party: ...

List of updates under the cut...

[1/29/19] - Post published.

TBA

#idol precure #precure #precure all stars #i hate that the formatting i want to use looks so hideous on mobile #and that the separators are nonexistent there too #stupid app

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askkrenko · 3 years

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Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Elekid Line

Please keep out of reach of small children, including itself.

DESIGN:

Elekid looks dumb. Really dumb. Nothing about Elekid looks like a creature, and it doesn’t look artificial, either. It just looks like something that a human designed as an RPG monster. Now, granted, it is an RPG monster designed by a human, but most of these things have cohesive forms and patterns that, while infused with their element, are still things that you could conceive of as simply existing in a magical world. Elekid is as round as an egg with weirdly thick arms, no knees, and this weird plug-horns sticking straight up that don’t look like any part of anything reasonable. And then it has that big lightning bolt on its chest as if to say ‘hello, I am an electric type.’

And lightning bolts aren’t unreasonable in the design of electric Pokemon, but compare Elekid being clearly stamped to the far wilder stripe on Electabuzz, Pikachu’s tail, or Zebstrika’s mane. There are plenty of Pokemon that are visually clearly labeled as electric types, but Elekid looks like someone actually took time to stamp him. If it was a more artificial Pokemon like Magnemite or Porygon this would be fine, but we’re supposed to believe that Elekid is a baby Electabuzz and instead it just looks fake and bad in every way.

Electabuzz, on the other hand, is great. It’s got big Oni energy with its brutish form and stripes (Oni are often depicted with tiger pelts,) its stripes have a realistic animal-like pattern but still clearly evoke electricity, its little antennae are clearly non-standard but evoke oni horns, and it just looks really fuzzy. Electabuzz is clearly a thunder oni, but is also fully its own thing that is not actually a thunder oni. Electabuzz is sort of peak Pokemon design for me- taking a pre-existing mythological creature, shuffling it on itself, and making something new that evokes that creature without being it outright.

Electivire is… not something I’m happy with. It doesn’t particularly offend me the way Elekid does (save for maybe the ‘plug’ symbol on its back), but its more apelike features don’t feel like a step up for Electabuzz, and while I love the idea of it delivering electricity with prehensile tails, they always look more like tentacles coming out of its back. I think the design could be improved a lot if the tails came down and looped around instead of sticking up over its shoulders. It’s not like they’re long enough to be used as an attack that way, either. My other issue is the straighter lines. While Electabuzz’ stripes only go partially around like a tiger’s, Electivire’s run full lines, taking away the appearance of ‘fur pattern’ and adding back some of that artificial look from Elekid.

EVOLUTIONS:

I’m starting to think of cutting this section because I find myself repeating so often. Elekid to Electabuzz at 30 is correct. Electivire being a trade evolution with a unique item that has no effect other than to evolve that one specific Pokemon is just a waste of time and coding effort. Just make it a trade evolution and save the hassle of the Electirizer.

That said, both pre-evolution and a third form were necessary to give this Pokemon line full playability. Electabuzz was too weak for endgame but too strong to show up before endgame. Adding a baby form that can appear on even early routes and a final form with proper endgame stats really frees up the line to be used anywhere.

Art by hftran

TYPING:

Electivire is a pure electric type, which is mediocre but not bad. Electric has three resistances to one weakness, but on the flip side, only two things are weak to electricity and four types can withstand it. Water and Flying are both common types to see, but Earthquake is a common attack, so a pure Electric type has plenty of opportunities to shine but also has to be careful.

STATS:

Electivire has a pretty decent stat spread, with slightly below average defenses, good speed, and a great 123 physical attack. Its special attack is 95, which isn’t as good, but is noteworthy because its special attack lineup is better than its physical lineup.

Art by salanchu

ABILITIES:

Electivire’s hidden ability, Vital Spirit, prevents Sleep. This is always fine.

Electivire’s primary ability is Motor Drive. Motor Drive changes its Electricity resistance into an Electricity immunity, and raises its speed every time it’s hit by an Electric attack.

Both of these abilities are situational and require catching the right attack type, and both are equally entirely usable. Electricity’s not so much a threat that Electivire should feel the need for immunity, but at the same time, it’s common enough that being able to switch into it without harm is nice. Neither of these abilities is bad, but neither of them encourages or unlocks any interesting strategies.

Art by Koeskull

MOVES:

Electivire has the classic “Wrong Attacks” problem, and it’s actually a pretty serious issue. Physically, Electivire’s best attack is Wild Charge, with a power of 90 and recoil of 25%. And this is the best non-signature electric physical attack, so it’s not like it’s missing an attack… But for special attacks, Thunder, Thunderbolt, and Volt Switch are all just better moves to have.

When we look at coverage, we see a similar issue. Yes, Electivire gets the elemental punches and a decent lineup of fighting type attacks and the ever popular Earthquake, but it also gets Flamethrower, Psychic, and Focus Blast.

So what’s the right answer for Electivire for a movelist? There really isn’t one. You can go physical or special or a mix to get the best of both, but either way you’re going to have issues.

“Charge” by Twime777

OVERALL:

Electivire is not as good as it should be. It has a good stat lineup, but with two abilities that don’t really do much and a move lineup that puts too many of its better attacks on its worse stat Electivire just winds up as ‘fine.’ It’s not garbage or anything, because solid speed and high attack are enough to make almost anything work, but it’s not particularly good, either.

The weirdest part here is, this isn’t a problem Electabuzz has. Electabuzz just has higher Special Attack than Physical Attack, but when it evolves, its Physical Attack goes up and its special stays the same. It results in this awkward Pokemon who learns very few Physical attacks naturally wanting to become a Physical beater and not having quite enough tools to do so.

You know what’d really help Electivire? If it could get a third ability slot and get Iron Fist put in there. Having 90 power elemental punches would seriously go a long way here.

“Don’t Disturb the Pokemon” by DarienDoodles

#Krenko's Pokemon Guide #Elekid #Electabuzz #Electivire #Electrive #Smoochum is still the cutest

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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594

How are you today? I’m doing okay. My classmates in my least favorite class, Newspaper Layout and Design, have been a big pain in my ass and I’ve been carrying the entire class on my back because no one has the initiative to start giving a fuck about the requirements (I’d want to not give a fuck either, but someone has to and I’m probably the most grade-conscious person in that class) – but it’s a Friday and I’m having amazing coffee right now so it balances out. Do you have mean comments that replay in your head and haunt you? Not really. Some days I’ll remember the one hate comment I got on my ask.fm which led me to delete my account altogether, but it doesn’t bother me because I kinda proved that person wrong eventually.

For context, they told me I should stop wishing to be in UP so bad and to actually pass the entrance exam first before I’m allowed to talk about how much the university means to me. Joke’s on them – I passed the UPCAT not long after. Doesn’t mean I’d forgot the demotivating message, though.

^If so, do you know why that is? I always want to please people and thrive on compliments, so I’m bound to remember every single bad thing anyone tells me. What are you currently worried about, if anything? I’m worried about my deadlines for my Layout class. The requirements are a group effort, and so long as my classmates don’t start moving, I can’t really pass my parts anyway because I have to wait on them. UGH Did you go Black Friday shopping this past Black Friday? Pls stop asking me first-world references

^If so, what was the best deal you got? Have you ever been Black Friday shopping? What is your favorite Thanksgiving food? Do you wear a watch every day? No. Wearing them always makes me feel like there is something on my wrist, and that bugs me haha.

Pineapple or pepperoni? I don’t like either. All-cheese pizzas are my favorite. What food makes you feel nauseous? Not to say that it makes me feel like vomiting or dizzy, but I was never really a big fan of blue cheese. I can handle it on my pizza and sometimes its flavor jibes well with the other cheeses, but the taste always sticks out so I’m not particularly obsessed with it. Have you ever seen a spirit? No. When you have your own house someday, what color Christmas tree do you want and how will you decorate it? I want it traditional, so I’m going with green. It’s gonna have all sorts of decor like baubles, snowflakes, tinsel, leaves, etc. My family has always made an effort to make our trees look super nice and detailed and I wanna pass that on when I have my own place and maybe even kids down the road. Name 3 youtube channels you've been loving lately. HiHo Kids, Mankalor, and Moon Jeongwon’s vlogging channel. Do you have a youtube channel? I do but it’s only so that YouTube can tailor my homepage to what I’m into at the moment, and so that I can like/dislike videos haha. I don’t post my own content. ^If so, does your family approve? ...I don’t think they should have an opinion about me owning a YouTube account. But in any case, they don’t really mind. What do you think about the new "for kids" or "not for kids" rules? Like, parental control? I guess it’s a good thing. Kids have always had very makulit hands and end up seeing stuff they’re not supposed to. Makulit is a Filipino word that defies translation, but I guess the closest thing to it is either mischievous or restless.

Case in point: Back when I was in high school, I was working at one of the library computers when these Grade 1 kids sat at the computer beside me. They were searching images of the movie Frozen and it was all normal for a bit, but they scrolled too far down and eventually they landed at this very questionable manip of Elsa and Anna doing some stuff that kids that age definitely shouldn’t be seeing. ^ Do they affect you? No. I’m neither a kid nor a parent. What is the most disgusting thing you have ever eaten? [slight trigger warning for the vegans!!! Sorry, Filipino cuisine can sometimes be a lot to take for non-Filipinos] I’m super adventurous when it comes to food so I haven’t found anything I’ve tried disgusting. I don’t particularly like the flavor of bopis (pork/beef lungs and heart) and pinapaitan (goat and ox innards meat flavored with bile, tamarind and chillies), but I don’t find them disgusting, and I’d still eat them if that was served at a family party.

What food is so disgusting you could absolutely never eat it? Dog/cat meat. Do you like sushi? Love sushi. What color was the last sweater you wore? Gray. Name 3 material items on your wish list right now. Nintendo Switch, a new pair of shoes (wow I really am a grown-up), and cash. Are you planning on doing Vlogmas (for youtube) this year? No. Zoella’s the only person I know who still does lmao Have you ever done Vlogmas before? No. Have you ever made money off of youtube? Omg no Are you happy that the year is coming to an end? SO HAPPY. 2019 felt like it was three fucking years long. Have you ever bought a designer purse? I haven’t bought any with my own money. Do people tell you that you look sick when you wear a certain color? No? ^If yes, what color? Do you consider yourself creative? Not at all. ....outgoing? Kinda. It depends on the situation. If I’m meant to be doing something I like or hang out with people I know, I can be very outgoing; but if it’s an unfamiliar situation, I tend to be more shy and let other people lead the way. ....free-spirited? I don’t think I’d call myself that. ....shy? Yep, at first. ....socially awkward? It’s a hit or miss. Sometimes I’m great with socializing; other times I just miss the mark. Do you often feel alone? Mostly during the Christmas season. Otherwise it’s an on-off thing for me, but the loneliness is for the most part turned off. What could be the theme song to your life? I never know what to answer in questions like this. My life has had a lot of phases and it’s hard to sum it all up into a single song. List three new songs you've discovered this year that you like a lot. I Saw You In A Dream by The Japanese House, the Summer section of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons (thanks, Portrait of a Lady on Fire), and Joji’s Dancing in the Dark. If you could win a shopping spree in any store, what would it be? Fully Booked. Do you wear jewelry often? Very seldom. List 10 of your favorite girl names. I list them on surveys all the tiiiiiimeeeeeeeee. Uhh Olivia, Mia, Arden, Harper, Juliana/Julia, Isabella, Elizabeth, Charlotte, Lily, Emilia. I’m feeling the name Eloise tonight too, so let’s throw that one in as a runner-up. List 10 of your favorite boy names. Miguel, Joaquin, Javier, Jacob, Mason, Noah, Liam, Seth, Leon, Luis. Andres is also good, so I’m putting that in even though it’s name 11. List 10 girl names (or up to 10) that you don't really care for. That’s so many and possibly offensive :((((( I’ll just go with boomer names like Sally, Linda, Agnes (sorry to my Lola, who’s named Agnes), Karen, Pamela, Susan, Brenda...and maybe more common ones like Angela, Marie, Sam. List up to 10 boy names that you don't really care for. Not a big fan of boy names in general, but ones I don’t particularly like nor dislike are names like John, George, William (lmao just naming all the royals now I see LOL), Benedict, Jeffrey, Donald, Michael, Daniel, Drew, Mark. How old were you when you found out Santa wasn't real? Five. I didn’t find out; I just put the clues together. Do you own a Polaroid camera? Nope. I want one though. ^If so, what color is it? List one past regret. The one dumb thing I did in one of my classes where I forgot to submit something on time, and I had to make do with a late submission, which would already have deductions. Do you own Converse, and if so, what color? i used to; they were red. I stopped wearing them after a bit though so my mom threw them out. We have white Chucks now – my sister brings them with her in her dorm but when she’s home, I’d borrow it sometimes. What color was your senior prom dress? Let’s plz avoid talking about the stuff we purposely want to forget Are you colorblind? No. Name the people you know who are colorblind. Nobody, other than the colorblind folk on Twitter/Tiktok who make wholesome videos separating different colors of Skittles or M&Ms heh. What's one pet peeve of yours? People who DRIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF TWO LANES YO WHAT’S UP WITH Y’ALL Would you ever consider a career in writing? Sure, I’m kinda headed that way anyway. What was the first thing you wanted to be when you grew up? Astronaut. What was your first favorite color? Purple. What is your favorite color now? Pink or black. Do you know a lot of people with the same middle name as you? Yeah, Isabelle is very common. But where I live it’s usually spelled Isabel or Ysabel. Do you like the name Brynn? Not really. It sounds very 2010ish, wherein people would give their kids double-N’s like Kaitlynn, Rylinn, Brooklynn, Ashlynn and I was never a big fan of that trend (except for Finn, Flynn, and Quinn, which I find cute). List five names you hate the spelling of. Literally those 4 names I just mentioned. Oh and in the Philippines, there’s this trend of putting H’s on otherwise normal names, e.g. Jhulia, Mhae, Ghabriella, Mhark...it’s common in the lower classes so I don’t judge, but like it’s just not really not my taste lmao. Do you watch Niki and Gabi on youtube? No. Do you watch Brooklyn and Bailey? No. ....Bethany Mota? No. But I did see her once when YouTube held a FanFest here in Manila and she was part of the lineup. ......Gillian Bower? ....LaurDIY? .....Family Fizz? ....Chronically Jaquie? No to literally all of those. Have you ever purchased a youtuber's merch? No they are always way too expensive lol ^If so, what did you buy?

#survey #surveys

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booksinpublic · 5 years

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Endometriosis and male birth control

I turned 30 last November and I'm just now realizing the all-consuming power that my menstrual cycle has on my body. Like most women I know, I've been constantly medicated via injections, implants and pills for more than 15 years, trying to find a birth control option that doesn't ravage me with cramps, cause ruptured cysts on my ovaries or thrust my mind into a vicious darkness at random and always-inconvenient moments.

Maybe I would have reckoned with my natural cycle by now, soothed it and learned how to live with it in peace, had I removed birth control from the equation for any significant stretch of time. I don't know. But I do know I've never wanted kids, and I really like having sex with dudes (and ladies, but they’re polite enough to not randomly impregnate their partners). Male contraception doesn't exist, ergo I've always been on birth control. I've lived with the consequences of unproven, barely tested, hormone-ridden contraception methods my entire adult life, often signing up for consequences even my doctors didn’t anticipate. I've been hospitalized twice in the past two years with heart attack-like symptoms, only to have my period start between the EKGs and X-rays, explaining away my discomfort in one bloody rush. The gut-smack of realization -- Of course it’s my period, I’m such an idiot -- never fades. The second time I went to the hospital, it was in Austin, Texas, during a work trip to cover SXSW in March 2019. After nearly 10 years of reporting at shows like E3 and CES, I don’t exactly look forward to most conventions, but SXSW is different. I enjoy the casual, creative vibe of the show, and this year, I had a lineup of fantastic interviews. I was eager to get going.

My period started because I had recently switched to the pill from Mirena, a high-hormone intrauterine device that for half a decade pushed my emotions to spike and plummet unpredictably, and possibly contributed to years of debilitating nausea.

I vividly recall the day I had the Mirena implanted; IUDs were still relatively new on the mainstream circuit and there weren’t many first-hand accounts of the process online. My gynecologist said I might experience some cramping that night. I felt a pinch around my ovaries as she inserted the device with its dangling strings, t-shaped polyethylene body and 52 mg of LNG, a steroid hormone that mimics progesterone. I drove home, cramping slightly but pleased I didn’t have to pop a pill every day to maintain my non-parent status.

By that night, I was curled into a ball on the bed, clutching my abdomen, riding waves of the worst pain I’d ever experienced. That remains true to this day. I questioned everything that night, but mostly, it exists in my memory as a blur of white-hot agony. I kept the Mirena, of course. Eventually, my periods became erratic, punctuated by agonizing bursting cysts on my ovaries every few months, aftershocks of that initial night. Still, I kept the Mirena.

Fast forward five years. I’d just had the Mirena removed and was in a month-long waiting period before my gynecologist would add Skyla, a smaller and lower-hormone IUD, to my anatomy. After living with Mirena for so long, I forgot to pack my temporary birth-control pills for the Austin trip. On the third day of the show, my period arrived. Before I started bleeding, I had a fantastic day. I interviewed one of my literary idols, Neil Gaiman (and a bonus Jon Hamm), and had the rest of the afternoon to write; it was a dream situation for a convention like this. I walked to a coffee shop to work alongside some colleagues, opened my laptop, and was hit with an intense wave of nausea. My mind was gradually swathed in fog; my stomach roiled and acid hit the back or my throat. I couldn’t eat the soft pretzel I’d ordered. A colleague asked if I'd drank too much the previous night and I laughed it off, heart threatening to leap straight out of my throat. I went back to my hotel room, exhausted, and tried to finish my story. What should have taken an hour took four, and even then my editor called the draft a fever dream. I puked three times while writing it. Dizzy, short of breath, heart thundering in the pressurized cabin of my chest, I tried to eat dinner and sleep. I actually ate half of the burger I ordered. The night wore on, my colleagues went to a SXSW party, and once midnight rolled around, I tried to sleep. The tornado under my ribcage sent prickling tingles down my limbs, making my hands shake and sweat. Sleep eluded me. The signs of a heart attack are different for women and men. Many “traditional” symptoms, such as sharp pain in the chest, don't always appear in women. I knew this, vaguely, and my own body was out of whack enough that I Googled "female heart attack symptoms." I matched them all with uncanny accuracy. The websites I visited recommended calling 911 -- but then, they always do. Around 4:30AM, I called my boyfriend and then a 24-hour nurse line. I explained my symptoms and was advised to call an ambulance. After another half hour spent trying to convince myself I could fall asleep if I just tried a little harder, I got a Lyft to St. David’s South Austin Medical Center (that was $13, compared with an estimated $1,000 for an ambulance). I puked again in the waiting room bathroom, light-headed and paranoid my left arm was going numb. My period started (idiot). Over the following four hours, the doctors ran a few tests, I took some anti-nausea medication, and that was that. I was young and relatively healthy -- it was probably just anxiety or indigestion, according to the hospital staff. Even as I sat in the back seat of the Lyft on the way to the hospital, I knew the tests wouldn't return anything notable. They never did. Which, generally speaking, was a good thing. I wasn't having a heart attack -- great -- but I wasn't all right, either. There were a range of possible causes for my symptoms in Austin, and the same culprit may also be responsible for the years of isolating stomach issues I've experienced. However, by the time I left the hospital, it was clear that these episodes of heart-attacky symptoms were tied to my menstrual cycle. I did some quick online research and found a number of results that might explain my situation, all of them related to my period. This was new information. I knew about PMS and PMDD, the more extreme and debilitating version of PMS, but I'd never heard either word attached to heartburn or heart attacks specifically. I'd seen a gynecologist regularly for the past 15 years, but in the mess of other, more pressing consequences of female birth control, heartburn just never came up.

This is how it goes. I switch contraception methods and a fresh new hell is unleashed on my unsuspecting body, whether it's pain or emotional turmoil or fatigue or personality tweaks or changes in sex drive, and it takes me longer than it should to realize my symptoms line up perfectly with my new sterility regime. Shockingly, I'm not always thinking about birth control, though it's always, always in my life. All of this is to say it's bullshit there is no widespread form of male contraception yet.

THE MALE BIRTH CONTROL CON | An informational interlude by Jessica Conditt

For men, the options are, essentially, condoms or vasectomies. Vasectomies are effective, but they’re also designed to be permanent. In an outpatient procedure, surgeons snip or block the vas defrens, which normally serve as the sperm highway in a man’s scrotum. Planned Parenthood describes the process as relatively pain-free, quick and nearly 100 percent effective after a three-month waiting period. However, vasectomies are for men who are done having kids, as they’re difficult (and sometimes impossible) to reverse.

There have been a few other attempts to fill the birth control gender gap: Vasalgel is a potentially reversible solution that acts like a vasectomy, but with an injected solution rather than actual surgery. This means the process is reversible, in theory. Vasalgel made headlines in 2017 when it was successfully tested on monkeys, but there hasn’t been much movement since.

There is one potential bright spot for the future of male birth control, and it comes in the form of a thin needle.

“Most of the research has focused on the combination of testosterone plus a progestin, another sex steroid hormone that is found in men and women,” University of Washington chief of medicine Dr. Bradley D. Anawalt told Endocrine News in 2016. “Previous studies of male hormonal contraceptives have shown that injectable formulations provide effective contraception that is far superior to the condom and compares favorably to most female contraceptive options.”

In October 2016, researchers reported the results of a study into a particular injection-based method of male birth control. The shots (200 MG of norethisterone enanthate and 1,000 MG of testosterone undecanoate, injected every eight weeks) were tested in 320 men and found to be 96 percent effective. However, the study was halted because the men involved reported particularly high rates of adverse side effects, most notably depression and other mood disorders, but also acne, muscle pain and increased libido. Even with these effects, more than 75 percent of participants said they were willing to continue using the shot.

The most recent advancement in male birth control comes from the National Institutes of Health, which announced in November plans to study a gel designed to prevent pregnancy. The gel, NES/T, is rubbed into a man’s back and shoulders and works via a progestin-based compound called segesterone acetate and testosterone. The NIH is recruiting participants and the study is set to be completed in September 2021.

And that’s about it, when it comes to the technological landscape for male birth control. Promises, tests and silence.

The point here isn't that female birth control sucks or that men are purposefully thwarting attempts to devise a male version. In fact, most men I know are eagerly awaiting the day they can pop a pill and not worry about making a baby.

I'm simply tired of treating my body like a hormone-bomb test site. I'm sick to death of the daily side effects of protecting myself -- and my male partners -- from pregnancy.

That doesn't mean I'll stop any time soon. The possibility of pregnancy is still scarier than the side effects of birth control, for me and for now. I just wish men had as many terrible, effective, agonizing, freeing and emotionally disruptive options as I do.

* * * * * *

I wrote the above words in March 2019, while waiting for my Lyft to arrive at St. David’s South Austin hospital and take me back to the hotel. I typed them deliriously into the Keep Notes app on my phone, caught a few hours of sleep and then got back to covering the show.

When I returned home, I told my gynecologist about the hospital visit, the pain, the convincing heart attack symptoms. She nodded sympathetically and slid a Skyla device into my uterus. One week later, she checked on it with an ultrasound, and found a 5cm cyst inside my left ovary. It was a dense, black hole on the monitor. Endometriosis.

“Wow, it’s big,” she commented. “I’m surprised you haven’t been in more pain.”

I had been. I’d told her about it. But she’s a gynecologist -- her entire job is dealing with women in pain. My complaints of nausea and vomiting, significant weight loss, spasms of agony in my gut and irregular heart rhythms were not cause for alarm in this space. They were simply the price of having ovaries.

I had surgery last week to remove the endometrial cyst and surrounding damage. The procedure was supposed to take about an hour, but mine took three. At one point, my gynecologist was concerned she’d have to remove my entire left ovary, but she managed to keep my organs in place. Regardless, surgery isn’t the last step in living with endometriosis. It’s just the start.

The birth control bouncing around my body for the past 15 years likely kept my endometriosis at bay. The brief gap in IUD placement simply allowed my doctor to finally see it. All along, what I thought was pain from rupturing cysts was actually this disorder sticking my uterus together and filling my ovary with pus the color and consistency of melted chocolate. The cyst was apparently pushing against my bladder; since having it removed I’ve realized how painful peeing used to be.

Like with so many other symptoms, I’d gotten used to it.