#this went all over the place. which is actually an accurate representation of my thoughts on them
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Can't help but think about how much of Jiang Cheng’s 'I am nothing without my core' outburst when he wakes up after losing it is not because he needs to be the best but because he just lost the only thing he could do for his mother after she died. If it would've mattered less to him once he'd gotten the time to mourn her loss. If he stays up at night thinking about how all his accomplishments so far were possible because of Wei Wuxian's core, and how that would've disappointed her even more. If he thinks that she would've let Wei Wuxian give him his core had she been around back then, and feels an old but horribly familiar anger burn through him. If he still curses her for her last words to Wei Wuxian and curses himself for parroting them. If he curses Wei Wuxian for believing them.
Can't help but wonder if his dedication to the sect was to protect its people and those who depended on it just as much as it was about continuing a legacy, upholding his duty. If he really did all that to make his dead mother proud and earn his dead father's respect, if these considerations ever took first place in the light of day where he had a sect and a nephew to look after, or got relegated to the late hours when he lay awake, haunted by the past. Can't help but wonder if he ever saw Jin Ling cry, realised that his own mother would've scolded him for showing weakness, and decided that what she thought mattered less than he'd realised.
Can't help but wonder how much his mother still haunts his life.
#this went all over the place. which is actually an accurate representation of my thoughts on them#jiang cheng#jc#yu ziyuan#yzy#wei wuxian#wwx#twin prides of yunmeng#yunmeng brothers#jiang wanyin#the untamed#cql#chen qing ling#mdzs#jiang cheng being haunted#yes this is going to be a series of posts focusing on one relationship each#because jiang cheng is so very hauntable. beloved wet paper man#meta
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had a dream which started with the usual weirdness/nonsense (lightly involving figuring out bus/train schedules in odd moments), which then shifted with very little transition from previous events to me hanging out at a friend's place while their little brothers played video games
the four of us had a mostly comprehensible conversation about the games, including things like goofing around killing chickens in ocarina of time (granted, the games the two brothers were playing were not, like, accurate representations of any single video game, but that was the weirdest the dream got at that point)
then, i shifted over to be closer to my friend as they laid down on the floor to relax, and they asked me to move their hair out of their face (because they wanted to be real lazy), and i did, and then i leaned down to kiss them (pausing just before so they could let me know it was okay, and yes i did actually do that in the dream)
the reason i'm typing all this out is because the dream went on for just a little longer - we kissed for a bit, and then the friend asked me why now, and i said 'i wanted my first kiss to be something i could just do, and not make a huge deal out of it', and very shortly after saying that i woke up too much to stay in the dream because that was far too true of a statement for me to stay sleeping after saying it, i guess
i've also just been saying 'friend' because during the dream, i'm pretty sure this was an actual person i knew, but as soon as i broke the moment between dreaming and sleeping, whoever this person was escaped my head, so i no longer remember who i thought they were, or if they were in fact actually someone i've known or if they were just someone i dream-knew (i will note, if it was someone i've actually known, i know it was not folks i know irl who are on tumblr)
so, anyway, now i've got this weird melancholy right after waking up, and this new truth that's popped into my head, and now i have to, like, go do things in real life, and that... kinda sucks
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on the road (to you)
summary: as a young adult, one of the strangest revelations is the discovery that peers of yours from past fragile college years are getting married. so imagine your shock and excitement upon receiving a wedding invitation. there are, however, two problems: (1) you are a poor early-20s recently employed adult just beginning to adjust to your 401k plan, and (2) the only available ride to the wedding comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook—friend of a friend, attendee to that aforementioned wedding, and your old college crush.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
genre: roadtrip au, strangers to lovers au | fluff/angst
warnings: recreational alcoholic consumption, definitely not an accurate representation of how a road trip might actually be, mentions of anxiety + insecurities, very minor book reference to: The Night Circus, equally minor movie references to: Mission Impossible and The Princess Bride because I have a problem, light makeout sessions, talks of DTR (define the relationship), some angst but this is me so there��s a happy ending.
word count: 27k
a/n: a birthday present for the one and only Jeon Jungkook, whom I love and respect so much and only wish the bestest of days for. Partly inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “invisible string” + a love letter of sorts to my own old high school crush for whom my memory of him helped build Jungkook’s character. This also turned out way longer than I ever wanted it to be lol oops!
update: i was actually able to do a writer’s audio tag on this fic!!! check it out if you want to hear about the behind the scenes process that went into writing this fic <3
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When you land a job in the months following your college graduation, you feel as if you are on top of the world. How could you not? After all, the norm that follows post-college is one of disappointment and constant hunts online to find job openings for any position that could suit your background and previous work experiences. It’s a fear that plagues lots of your friends, both those in college and out. It’s the same paranoia you had in the months leading up to graduation and the few months after graduation—in which your days were measured by the boxes you packed to move out of your tiny college apartment and into an equally tiny new apartment you currently share with an old roommate of yours, as well as the days you spent hunched over your computer and scrolling through job postings.
You had gone through more than a handful of cover letters, resume submissions, and in person interviews before finally landing the job you currently have and have been working under for a month now.
Throughout the course of the recent month, you’ve continued to secure certain moments that solidify the confidence that you’re finally becoming an adult. Sure, a barely functioning adult who mostly still uses the microwave to heat up your frozen Mac and Cheese—but an adult nonetheless. From learning how to pay your bills online, to realizing that grocery shopping was something you needed to make a conscious effort to do, along with going to and from your nine to five job with your coffee order in hand.
All of those things have helped you feel like you were, perhaps, finally getting your life together.
And then you receive the invitation in the mailbox.
It happens when you unlock your box on a bright March morning, taking out the usual round of bills and fashion magazines until your fingers lock around an envelope bigger than the normal letter size. It’s much sturdier too.
You don’t know what to think of the letter, until you bring the damn thing back into your apartment and rip the opening. The mere sight of the content inside makes you feel like the hand of life has just taken your figurine and moved you back a good twenty squares.
The post in your hand reads:
WITH GREAT JOY, IRENE AND SEOKJIN REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE FOR THEIR WEDDING CELEBRATION ON THE DAY OF MAY 25TH. COCKTAILS, DINNER, AND DANCING TO FOLLOW.
There’s a date at the bottom of the invitation. As you line the date up with your calendar, you realize that you have a week to RSVP to the event.
You toss the envelope onto the counter in the kitchen just to glare at the cardstock, maybe to convince yourself this is a dream or at least convince yourself that it’s normal for your friend from college to be getting married even when you have yet to land a successful relationship of your own.
You aren’t as close with Irene as you used to be, but the memory of your friendship is still at the forefront of your mind. The pair of you met during your final year of university, when you were assigned to work together for one of your many senior projects and immediately clicked. The months you spent in her apartment and vice versa pulling out all-nighters in desperate attempts to finish your project definitely earns you an invitation. At the very least, you are happy to see that Irene: bright and smart and funny, is getting married.
Not only that, but getting married to Seokjin. He’s a year older than you and Irene, but those two met when he was still enrolled and have been inseparable ever since. You don’t know relationships that well, but you know them enough to recognize that Seokjin and Irene were what everyone called the ‘endgame’. In truth, it was only a matter of time before you were to receive one of these from them.
But did she really have to one-up you like this? Not that it’s a competition. However, it does leave a funny feeling to see someone the same age as you display a much more put together handle on life. You groan at the thought.
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Karly asks.
You turn to your roommate. She’s seated at the kitchen table, books out and everywhere as she looks over at you. Karly: fellow alumni, graduated from her undergrad program early to go straight into pursuing her master’s degree. She’s a busy bee. You wave the envelope. “Irene is getting married.”
Her eyes widen. “Ah shit, no way?” She takes the paper that you offer to her and looks over the invitation. “Damn, I knew it was only a matter of time before we started getting this stuff, but to actually see it happening…”
You groan. “I know right!” You take the cardstock back from your friend. “It’s only been six months since we graduated, how could she be getting married already?”
“Well, Irene did have a job lined up for her right after graduation,” Karly points out thoughtfully. She sees the look of bewilderment you give her. “What? It was on her Instagram.”
You pout. “Of course Irene would have a job lined up like that.” You run a hand through your hair. “I mean, that’s good for her. Really good, actually…”
Karly jerks her chin towards the envelope still in your hand. “So, are you planning to go?”
“I don’t know, do you have plans that day?” You wave the paper. “I’m allowed a plus one.”
Your roommate cracks a smile. “Are you asking me out? A little forward of you, we’ve been friends for so long…”
You whine, shaking the paper and little more frantically. “Karly, this is important! I don’t want to go alone, I won’t know anyone!”
She laughs. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What was the date again?”
You provide the date to her. You approach Karly’s place at the kitchen table and watch as she opens the calendar on her laptop. Immediately, you are overwhelmed by all the deadlines she’s got under practicality every date on the screen. Yet, a “wow” is the only thing you can say at the sight.
Karly smiles, sparing you a glance over her shoulder. “One of the joys of being a grad student slash T.A. slash research assistant.” She scrolls down into May, and narrows her eyes upon May 25th. Underneath the date is an event—color coated to bright orange and typed out in all caps. CONFERENCE WITH PROFESSOR WONG. “Oh crap, I have a conference that day.”
“No…” You whine some more, trailing off as you grab Karly by the shoulders and begin shaking. “Karly! You’ve left me out for the bears! What am I supposed to do?”
Karly laughs as she lets herself be manhandled in this way. “I don’t know! Go and deepen your social life or something.”
You stop shaking her and glare instead. “Is that a joke?”
“What do you expect me to say?” She retorts, appalled by your answer. “Then don’t go.”
You whine again. “But this is Irene, and I’ll feel bad for not going and congratulating her!”
“Then go!”
“But I don’t have a plus one!”
Karly places her hands at her temples. “Oh my god, this is like the circle of stupidity with you. Then find a plus one! Or just don’t go!” She whirls around to face you. “I will help you find a dress if you decide to go. I will also sit with you on the couch and eat popcorn with you if you decide not to go.”
You continue to pout, knowing that you deserve that gentle attempt at a lecture but still not liking the reason why you needed such a talking to.
“Fine,” You eventually decide to say, sliding into the seat next to Karly and leaning forward to plant your entire upper body on the table.
Karly laughs at your defeated posture. “Well, you have the rest of the week to make your decision.”
She has a point. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.
.
For the rest of the week the decision of whether or not you should attend the wedding becomes a weight in your mind. You spend the next few days pondering it, thinking over the pros and the cons.
As overdramatic as it is, you think about it during work, when you’re partaking in your home workout routines, and even when you’re about to fall asleep. You do want to go, you really do. It’ll be the first time you attend a wedding that didn’t involve a relative, which feels like a big deal in your adult agenda mindset. And Irene is someone you wouldn’t mind spending an evening with to catch up.
However, you wouldn’t get to spend the evening with Irene—after all, a wedding implies that she would likely be mingling with all of her guests and you would just be another attendee forced to find other means of entertainment. That’s where the plus one comes in handy. Except you don’t have a plus one. A slight problem.
You sigh. Work is a little slow today, as you are also experiencing the afternoon slump in which your mind drifts away more often than usual. You find yourself with a small laundry list of tasks (such as emailing companies, working on drafts for releases, and trying to set up different appointments) but without the motivation to do those things right away. Because of that, your afternoon slump takes the form of opening airline services to find information and prices about flying to Irene’s wedding. It’s in her hometown, about a five hour flight time from here to there.
You click on the various boxes that require information, finally allowing a search. As the search goes through, your eyes take in all the prices—both the amount to get there and to get back—and your lips part slightly at the totaling numbers.
“Five hundred dollars?” You mutter to yourself. You’re not sure how this would work with budgeting, but you’re still trying to figure out how to balance the cost of AC, the internet, and how to eat appropriate meals at least once a day. You don’t have five hundred dollars to spend on an airplane ticket. A slightly bigger problem.
You sigh again, resting your elbow on the desk and your chin in the palm as your eyes continue to scroll through the website.
Behind you, fingers curl around the top of your cubicle. There is a silence between the two of you: him, merely observing, and you, completely oblivious, until he clears his throat.
You jump, having not expected to be interrupted like this. A squeak leaves the back of your throat as you whirl around to see who is visiting you. “Jimin!” You exclaim, taking in the boy now perched along the wall of your cubicle. This is before you narrow your eyes. “Asshole, you scared me!”
If you just started working here and learned that you’d be cursing out Park Jimin for startling you, that past version of yourself might have turned red, shocked, and nervous at the thought. A month ago, Jimin was that coworker—as friendly as friendly people come by. With his pretty eyes, perfectly soft pink lips, and freshly dyed brown hair, you had been immediately taken by his charm and helpful nature.
Then the month went by, and you realized there were no romantic intentions on either end. Jimin then became your first friend in your new job. Albeit, he’s a nosy friend who enjoys asking questions and dragging you out to nearby bars and coming over occasionally with take-out, but a friend nonetheless.
“Sorry!” Jimin says back, then he glares at you. “What are you doing over here anyways?”
You shake your head. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean what do I mean? You’ve been sighing all afternoon.” Jimin pulls out a slip of paper from behind his back. “Fifty times in the last hour, I swear to god.”
You straighten out of your seat to get a better look at the paper, unamused to find fifty tally marks across the surface. “You’re lying, there’s no way that I sighed fifty times in an hour.”
“Of course you wouldn’t know, you’re the one doing all the sighing!” Jimin retorts, lowering his hand with the paper. “Is something up with you? Did something happen?” His eyes flicker to the monitor screen behind you and he frowns. “What the fuck? Are you moving away already?”
You blink. “What?”
He jerks his chin towards the computer. “You’re looking at flight prices.”
“Huh?” You turn around, having completely forgotten about your previous predicament in light of discovering that Jimin counts your sighs. “Oh! No…”
Jimin raises an eyebrow. “No, you’re not looking at flight prices?”
You slide back into your chair, a silent invitation for Jimin to step further into your cubicle. You sigh again, and he holds the paper back up. Taking a pencil out of his pocket, he makes another mark. You look over at him upon hearing the pencil scratch and scowl. “Give me that!” You grab the paper from his hand. “I’m dealing with a crisis right now, don’t count my sighs!”
“Alright! Alright!” Jimin slides behind you and leans forward to get a better look at your computer screen. “So where are you moving to this time?”
You press your lips together. “I’m not moving away. A friend of mine from college is getting married. I’m just trying to see how expensive it would be to fly over there.”
He whistles at the five hundred dollar price in your cart. “That’s pretty expensive.”
“I know!” You groan, throwing yourself further back into your chair. “I wouldn’t mind going, but I don’t have a plus one. And as you can see, flying there would be a challenge on my wallet.”
Jimin hums at that. “Well, regarding your plus one problem, I wouldn’t mind going with you.”
You turn to look at him. “Really? You’d go across the country and endure an entire evening with your coworker and her old college classmates?”
He shrugs. “If you’re desperate, I’ll keep my offer around.” He actually pouts this time. “Are you implying that you see me more as a coworker than a friend? After all the times we’ve hung out outside of work!”
Your eyes widen slightly, having not thought of that. “No, no, Jimin, I mean—yes, I do see you as a friend now but we met as coworkers so I just think of you as a coworker first—!” You’re rambling.
Jimin interrupts by patting your shoulder, the corner of his lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m just messing with you.”
You shake your head again. “Asshole,” You grumble, returning your attention back to your computer.
Jimin is still mid-laughter behind you. “Anyways, yeah, like I said. If you’re desperate to go, I wouldn’t mind going with you. But deciding how to get there is a different question entirely.”
You turn to glare at your friend for a moment. “I’ll let you know.”
He nods, before his lips part and he’s snapping his fingers. “Oh yeah! I wanted to ask you something.”
He backs up, allowing you enough space to turn around fully and face him. “Okay, what’s up?”
Jimin grins, lifting his leg up to nudge your chair slightly. “I’m going out tonight—you should come with.”
You don’t even give this a second thought. Your lips turn into a downwards curl as you shake your head. “Nope.”
Jimin looks appalled. “Why not? Didn’t you have fun the last time we went out?”
“If ‘fun’ to you is trying to drag your drunk ass home and staying the night to make sure you wouldn’t choke on your vomit…” You grumble, trying not to shudder at the memory. It has only been a few days since that ‘fun’ time.
“I told you that sometimes I overestimate my abilities, and I already apologized for that,” Jimin points out, although he does have the decency to look guilty for that mess. He perks up again. “But this’ll be different, I promise. I’m meeting up with some friends and we’re just gonna catch up. It’s at one of the quieter bars uptown: no loud DJ, no bright lights, no bottomless rum and coke. Promise. It’ll just be a lot of socializing.” He watches you hesitantly. Socializing has never been your strong suit. “And finger food.”
The mention of food does make you look up towards him—your first sign of interest towards something. However, another thought weighs you down. “Are you sure you even want me to go?” You ask after a moment. “I mean, this is a catch up with friends. Wouldn’t I be intruding?”
“Not at all!” Jimin brushes off, waving away your concern with his hand. “I told you, it’s a socializing thing. Besides, my friends are always bringing someone along. They were asking me when I’d have a friend tag along, so I thought you’d be a good selection.” He notices you still frowning. “C’mon! It’ll be fun. When I’m not vomiting over your shoes, I’m good company. And I promise I won’t be vomiting this time.”
You stare at Jimin for a moment longer, contemplating his words. This is very true. Jimin is an ideal friend to have during social gatherings—he’s good at keeping a conversation going so you don’t have to shoulder the weight alone, he’s good at reading when you’re in a good mood and when you’re ready to go home, and he’s excellent at keeping unwanted attention away. You know this. Jimin knows that you know this.
It takes one curl of your lips for Jimin to grin, knowing that he has convinced you. “Okay!” He says, finalizing the decision without having to hear the actual answer from you. He pats your knee. “We’ll take the subway after work, it’s just a few stops down.”
If your mind conjures up any second thoughts, Jimin leaves before you are able to express them.
.
True to Jimin’s word, the pair of you step into a subway heading westbound as soon as you’re finished with work. It’s much later in the day now, the afternoon sun has changed into a night sky with a chill spring breeze to match. The carts are filled with the evening crowd of adults, all done with another day of work and finding enjoyment for the rest of today by returning home or seeing friends. It’s a rarity that you would fall under that latter category, but the thought makes you excited nonetheless.
“Alright, so you wanna tell me a little bit about these friends that I’m seeing tonight?” You ask, gripping the handlebar above you but leaning towards Jimin so he can hear what you’re saying over the noise of the subway speeding down the tracks.
Jimin grins. “They’re just some friends I grew up with. We like to get together once a month to catch up and hang out, since everyone is so busy with their own lives.”
You smile back. “That’s actually really sweet of you guys, to plan hangouts once a month.”
He lightly flicks your forehead. “Hey, are you saying I’m normally not very sweet?”
“Well, not right now!” You protest, hand over your forehead. “That hurt.”
“You’re being a baby!” Jimin retorts back.
The pair of you continue to bicker like this until your stop is announced over the intercom. Jimin halts the further insults being thrown at each other as he gestures towards the approaching station, as seen through the window of the subway.
“This is our stop,” Jimin says to you, allowing you to step out onto the platform first. He joins behind you right after, leading the way as the subway’s three chimes signal the closing of the doors. There’s a breeze that follows, running through your hair and clothes as the subway zooms away to its next stop. The station itself is crowded, filled with groups of friends and individuals carrying on with the rest of their evening, overall looking so lively and you can feel yourself feeding off their energy.
With a gesture pointing up the stairs that’ll take the pair of you to ground level, Jimin leads the way. You make your way through people, following Jimin’s guide until you’re both exiting the station and entering the world of your new stop. It’s another area of the city you work in, so the change in scenery isn’t too dramatic—but it’s a place more catered towards restaurants, shopping areas, and hang-out sections. The bright neon signs protrude out from the building, flashing the various products or services the specific building offered: from manicure care to corner ramen shops.
“C’mon, let’s hurry!” Jimin calls back to you, picking his pace up slightly. He’s not running, but his long legs make it harder for you to keep up. “Everyone is already there.”
The pair of you continue to pace down the sidewalk, past the crowds of people waiting to eat, people lingering outside of clothing stores. Finally, Jimin slows down near a restaurant. He looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still behind him, before entering the establishment. He mentions something about knowing where their seats are, before continuing deeper into the restaurant.
As you look around, the place does look like a restaurant slash bar—not as crazy as some of the bars Jimin takes you with the intention of actually getting drunk, but there’s still a bar here and there’s still alcohol being shared heavily. It’s the same demographic of early 20s, young adults with friends, but there are actual tables and chairs and booths set up like a restaurant. So you suppose Jimin hadn’t been lying to you about this.
“There they are!” Jimin says to you, as you look up and follow Jimin’s finger to the table in the far corner that is completely filled with the exception of two seats. You vaguely make out the back of some heads, most belonging to boys, before your eyes land on one of the boys facing you and Jimin. He’s sitting at the far end of the table, currently laughing brightly at something one of the boys at the table has said. For all intents and purposes, the boy is cute. Extremely cute. When he laughs, his eyes and nose crinkle and his lips spread into a wild smile—and brings out the dimple on his cheek. He looks like the embodiment of all your ideal types mashed into a singular being.
All of those things. Yet, that is not the reason why you are staring. None of those things come close to why you stop dead in your tracks, why your heart drops in your chest, why your eyes widen. Even with the shitty lighting in this restaurant, you are one hundred percent positive. “Jimin!” You manage to choke out, having enough well power to grab onto his hand seconds before he is able to make himself and yourself known to his friends.
He whirls around, wide-eyed and curious and worried. “What? Is everything okay?”
You shake your head. The room feels too small. “I think there’s something I should tell you—!”
“Hey, is that Jimin? Jimin!” Your voice is very easily drowned out by the sound of another, much louder voice that seems to boom through the restaurant.
Jimin turns back around in time to face one of the boys from the table who has gotten out of his seat. You are able to see him from over Jimin’s shoulder—a tall boy with messy unkempt hair and a boxy smile. Jimin greets him with a “Taehyung!” before the boys embrace. “Taehyungie,” Jimin continues afterwards, turning around so both are able to face you. “This is Y/N, she’s a coworker of mine.”
Taehyung grins, a friendly gesture that makes you relax. But only slightly. “Y/N! It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a bit about you from Jimin. All good things, I promise.”
“W-Well, that’s good to hear,” You manage shakily, eyes nervously darting to the boy at the end of the table, who has stopped his conversation and is now looking at you and Jimin.
“Let me introduce you,” Jimin says, breaking your concentration as he rests a hand on your shoulder. He points right at the boy at the end of the table, who is still staring at you. His eyebrows are furrowed together. You want to bury yourself alive. “That one over there is—!”
A lightbulb seems to go off in the boy’s head. His face breaks out into a smile as he points at you. “Hey, Y/N!”
Jimin looks taken aback at the fact you are being recognized by someone at the table. His hand lowers as he looks over at you.
You, however, cannot focus on Jimin. You can only focus on the boy at the end of the table, the boy currently smiling over at you with all the light in his eyes, the boy who makes the memories flash through your mind. From that, the best you can manage is a tiny smile. “Jungkook!”
Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Where do you even begin with him?
You met Jungkook during your second year of university. He had been an arts major (you were not) and yet, your paths crossed multiple times throughout the quarter as a result of sharing many general education classes together. You even were forced to pair up on a project for one of those aforementioned G.E. classes. Neither of you ran in the same social circle, but that didn’t change how sweet, funny, charming, endearing, easy-going, friendly, smart, and nice Jungkook was. It was very easy for him to make friends, very easy for him to go out of his way to say hi to you in the library or in class or in the cafeteria, and very easy for him to strike up a basic conversation with you.
Because of that, it was very easy for you to fall for him—to develop a deep-rooted crush that went on for the rest of your university experience. You would use the term ‘friends’ very loosely when describing what your relationship with Jungkook had been. You had never hung out with him outside the context of school, never went out to eat with him, and never saw him again after graduation. Until now.
Actually, ‘acquaintances’ would probably be a much more fitting term.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you since graduation!” Jungkook is saying as he stands up from his chair and approaches you. As if on autopilot, you return the one armed hug he gives you. His smile, while still pleasant, holds a surprising tinge of shyness to it.
“Woah, hold on a second,” Jimin interrupts, immediately pointing between Jungkook and you. “You guys know each other?”
“Y/N and I went to university together!” Jungkook provides.
Jimin looks like his eyes are about to fall out of his sockets.
“We’ve known each other since second year,” Jungkook continues. He looks over at you. “I didn’t know you know Jimin.”
“Uh…” You forget how to speak. You’re too busy looking at Jungkook as if you haven’t seen him for years. In a way, it feels like that. Seeing people from college outside of college after a graduation ceremony is like meeting them again for the first time—most of them develop a more independent look. Some look like their life is seconds from falling apart. Some look much happier without the institutional pressure to secure classes and grades and internships. Sadly for you, Jungkook falls under the latter category. Did he always have that twinkle of starlight in his eyes?
“Y/N and I work together,” Jimin provides, seeming to realize that you weren’t going to answer Jungkook’s question. “She started working about a month ago.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” Jungkook replies, still looking at you. It is then he seems to notice that the three of you are standing in the middle of the restaurant. Although you are not distracting any patrons, the workers probably don’t appreciate it. “How about we sit down? We’ll be able to catch up more!”
Jimin seems to regain control of the situation quicker than you do, because he nods at Jungkook. “Let me introduce her to everyone, then we’ll join you.” You look over to where Jungkook had been sitting and immediately notice the previously empty two chairs right across from him—like fate, or something terrible like that.
So you watch as Jungkook makes his way back to his seat, and Jimin starts to guide you around the table. He only drops a name. Surprisingly, he doesn’t linger, he merely takes you to the next person. It only takes you a second to figure out why.
“You didn’t tell me you know Jungkook,” Jimin hisses in between the time it takes to travel in between people.
“I didn’t know you knew Jungkook!” You hiss back. You smile and nod politely at the person Jimin introduces as Yoongi. “Seriously, you never mentioned him once!”
Jimin only keeps his frustration for a moment before he’s introducing you to someone named Hoseok, a boy with a bright smile, the one who was making Jungkook laugh earlier. “Okay, fine,” He relents, the pair of you finally move to take your seats. “But what was that earlier?”
“What was what?”
“You were just staring at him! What, did you have a huge crush on him or something—?” Jimin accuses, but he stops. Just as the pair of you are about to sit down, Jimin parts his lips in realization. “Oh.” Then, he sends you an absolutely wicked grin. “Oh, okay.”
Your eyes widen at him, murder in your eyes. “Jimin!”
“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice cuts through your little biting banter with Jimin.
You whirl around to face Jungkook, eyes completely devoid of murder and voice several pitches higher. “Hi, Jungkook!”
He smiles, such a wonderful little thing that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Hi.”
Jimin ducks his head to hide the fact that he wants nothing more than to burst into fits of laughter.
“So how have you been?” Jungkook starts up. “I haven’t seen you since graduation. Since you landed a job, you seem to be doing well.”
“I am!” You manage, only continuing to try and keep a handle on your heart and managing well enough this time. “There were a few months of just scrolling through job postings and writing cover letter after cover letter though.”
Jungkook laughs, another beautiful gesture that makes you mirror his smile. “I definitely feel that.”
“Well, what about you? What have you been up to?” You ask. “I think I saw on your Instagram and you were traveling around for a little?”
His eyes light up at that. “Oh yeah! I don’t know if you remember Kim Mingyu from school?” You do. “Well, he and a friend of his got into some freelancing and had to do some traveling around to work on some filming. He asked me to come along because I actually have some photography experience. So that was a thing I did for a few months.”
You nod, smiling. “No way! That’s so cool.”
You do relax after a few conversational exchanges with Jungkook. He’s just as relaxed and mellow, yet friendly and polite as ever, and it’s easy to make conversation with him as it always has been. Eventually, you join in on the larger conversations with the whole table—touching on topics from your university experiences to tales from your new job. A lot of your role, however, falls to listening. Jimin’s friends are rowdy, funny, and out-going. They invite you in like you have been in this group for years—and are able to provide context on older memories they are revisiting.
Most of your evening, however, is engaging in conversation with Jungkook. Occasionally, Jimin will join in, but he does spend most of his time laughing along to something his other friends are saying. Since you and Jungkook have always been friendly with each other, long conversations aren’t out of the ordinary. You just never considered how well you and Jungkook got along, how easy it would be to transition from topic to topic.
“I am really glad that Jimin invited you along,” Jungkook explains brightly after the pair of you are done laughing following Jungkook’s tale of another fuck-ups with Kim Mingyu. “Makes you realize how small the world is.”
“Oh, you should have seen her moping around earlier today,” Jimin interjects, choosing now of all times to insert himself back into your conversation with Jungkook. “She was sighing all afternoon—so maybe we should thank her misery that I decided to invite her along tonight.”
Jungkook turns to you, a sympathetic look across his face. “Did you have a bad day today?”
You try for a laugh, waving away Jimin’s words. “Jimin’s just overreacting. Actually, I found out a friend of mine from college is getting married, so I was trying to figure out my plan…” You start, trailing off as you look at Jungkook. “Wait, you didn’t know Irene, did you?”
“I did.” His eyes widen as his lips part in realization. “Oh my god, you were invited to Irene’s wedding too?”
“I was!” You exclaim, unsure whether you should be excited or even more nervous at the prospect of potentially seeing Jungkook at the wedding event. “Holy shit, this makes it an even smaller world. How did you know Irene?”
Jungkook is still mid-giggle at the pure coincidence of everything. “We both knew Mingyu! This is so crazy. Are you planning to go?”
You shrug. Jimin chooses to interject once more. “That’s what Y/N over here was sighing all afternoon over.”
You whine as you look at Jimin. “No need to sell me out! Listen, Jungkook.” You turn back to the boy opposite of you, who is still gazing at you. “I’m sure you understand my current predicament.”
“Sure.”
“You know how expensive flights can be.”
“Of course.”
You fold your arms over each other and rest them on the table. “So, are you planning to go to the wedding?”
He nods. “Most likely, yeah. I actually knew that the wedding was going to be happening soon, since Mingyu told me about it as soon as Irene got the ring. I ran into the flight problem pretty quickly too, so I decided to just drive to the event.”
Jimin whistles. “Drive across the country, huh, JK? That must be a four day trip, or something.”
“It was coming out to be,” Jungkook acknowledges with a nod. “But it’s okay.” He’s grinning, looking excited at the prospect. “I’ve never done a cross country drive before, so it was actually kind of exciting to plan the route. There are a few places I want to stop by and visit. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Then, Jungkook turns back to you. “If you decide that flying would be too expensive, then you’re more than welcome to come along. It’ll be nice to have some company and not spend four days by myself.”
Entirely on instinct, you start to laugh. You think he’s joking—how could you not? This is probably one of the longest conversations you’ve ever had with Jungkook. Like you’ve mentioned before, you wouldn’t consider him a friend. Why would he seriously try to invite you on a road trip? “Yeah, I’m not too sure—I’ve never done a cross country trip before…”
The conversation shifts pretty quickly as soon as you reply back to Jungkook. Hoseok asks you a question that drags your attention away, simultaneously allowing you to forget about Jungkook’s request.
The end of the dinner happens soon after, when the bill has been paid and you suspect the long line of people outside waiting for a table are waiting for your party to be done. So venmo exchanges and money debts go around until each member of the table starts standing up one by one to make their move to exit the restaurant.
You and Jimin are one of the first to leave. Goodbyes are exchanged along with the polite ‘it was nice to meet you’ phrase thrown around. Jungkook is mid-conversation with Yoongi, but he still gives you a quick hug of parting before you and Jimin exit the restaurant.
The pair of you only make it out a few steps before there is a familiar voice calling your name. “Hey, Y/N! Y/N, wait up!” You stop and turn around, surprised to see Jungkook dashing out of the restaurant. He rests himself for a moment before he’s straightening back up to look at you.
You try for a smile. “Hey Jungkook, what’s up?”
He takes in a few more deep breaths to calm himself—either from the dashing he just did or to steel himself for the next question, you don’t know. “It’s about me inviting you to drive up to Irene’s wedding—I just thought I’d let you know it was a serious invitation. Having the company would be nice, and you wouldn’t be a burden to me, seriously. Besides, it’ll be fun to spend some time together.”
“O-Oh,” You stammer, wringing your hands together. “I’m not too sure… I still have to think about it.”
“Of course, of course,” Jungkook dismisses good naturedly. “Just thought I’d let you know, so you know that you do have options.”
Although the offer makes you nervous, you cannot dismiss Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. You give him a more relaxed smile. “I really appreciate that Jungkook, thank you.”
He smiles at your smile. “No problem! Actually…” He digs around for the wallet in his pocket and produces a little card. “Here’s my business card—my cell phone number is on here so just text or call if you decide to join me. Or,” He presses his lips into a more bashful smile. “You can just text me whenever for whatever reason. I just thought I’d let you know that it was good to see you again.”
You take the card slowly, unable to look away from Jungkook’s face. He looks so genuine and shy that it doesn’t help your own racing heart. “It was good to see you too, Jungkook…” You return, albeit a little breathlessly.
He smiles again, dimples pressing in his cheek (and your heart). He turns to Jimin “Oh yeah, nice seeing you too Park.”
“Hey.” Jimin hits him on the shoulder. “I’m your hyung, you should show me more respect!”
“My bad, my bad.” Jungkook doesn’t apologize though. His gaze flickers to yours one more time, gaze looking strangely hopeful. “I’ll see you guys around.” He walks backwards a few paces before turning around and returning to the restaurant. Maybe to see his other friends.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. You are still screaming internally regardless—as shown through your red cheeks, widened eyes, and singing heart. Jimin will certainly never let you live this moment down.
.
Now, you are screaming externally. You don’t even give a thought or an explanation. You simply walk into your apartment, nosedive for the couch, and start yelling into one of the throw pillows.
There’s a rapid movement of footsteps coming from down the hallway almost immediately, one that grows gradually louder until the owner of the steps starts speaking. “Who the fuck is out there? I’ve played softball my entire life and therefore will not hesitate to drive this bat so far up your ass—oh, Y/N.” The voice lowers significantly, as does the threat level it emits into the air. “It’s just you.”
You lift your face from the throw pillow, and immediately brush away at the hair that falls in your face. “What the fuck!” You croak, pushing yourself into a sitting position and pointing at the bat in Karly’s hands. “What are you doing threatening me with a bat? You’ve never played a game of softball in your life!”
“Oh, this isn’t mine. It’s Soonyoung’s.” Soonyoung is Karly’s boyfriend from high school, who used to play baseball on the high school team. How Karly has her boyfriend’s baseball bat is a mystery, but it’s something you think you are better off not asking about. She places the bat down on the carpet next to the coffee table. “But I should be asking you the questions, you bitch! You scared the shit out of me!”
You sigh, throwing your head to rest on the back of the couch. “Sorry, sorry. Had a crazy day.”
Karly ponders this as she moves to take a seat next to you. “You seemed fine when you texted me about you getting drinks with Jimin. Did something happen during the dinner?”
You straighten up again and grip Karly by the arm. “Okay, don’t scream.”
“You mean like you did?” Karly retorts dryly.
You shake her. “I’m serious!” When Karly doesn’t say anything, you take it as a sign to continue with your story. “I saw Jungkook.”
Karly blinks, then grabs your arm right back. “Wait, Jeon Jungkook, as in the guy you’ve been crushing on since second year?”
“Yes!” You whine, throwing yourself onto the couch all over again.
“The one you had to work together on a project with and nearly cried even though you guys just had to submit a paper?”
“Yes!”
“The one who said hi to you in the library that one time and you tried to put your elbow on the table afterwards but you missed and hit your head instead?”
You pause, scowling. “Okay, now you’re just being mean. Are you done?”
Karly is laughing. “Oh my god. What are the chances of you seeing him now?”
“There’s more,” You groan out.
“Really? Honestly that yell could have been just for seeing him again and that would have made sense—!”
You ignore her. “He’s friends with Jimin. He’s friends with Irene, too. He was invited to her wedding.”
“Wait, Jimin is friends with Irene or Jungkook is friends with Irene—?”
“He won’t pay for the flight though. It’s too expensive. I can attest to that.”
Karly holds a finger up, trying to connect the dots. “When did you look up flight prices—?”
“So he invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.”
Karly frowns.
You sigh. “Jungkook invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.”
“Oh! Oh!” Karly’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, that’s huge. Are you gonna go?”
“I don’t know!” You whine. “Jungkook mentioned it would be a four day drive to get there. I don’t know if I can survive four days in a car with him! We’ve never been that close, what if it gets awkward?”
Karly ponders this. “I really don’t think it’s in Jungkook’s nature to be awkward with someone—especially someone he’s had a history with.” She sees the look of disbelief you give her. “Well, even if that history was really limited. What makes you think it’ll be awkward? Was it awful seeing him tonight?”
“No!” You cry, straightening into a sitting position so your legs drape over the side of the couch. You force yourself to calm down. “It… it was pretty good actually.”
Karly raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Really now.”
“Yeah…” You reply, trailing off. “We sat across from each other during the dinner and we talked most of the night, surprisingly. I guess because we were sort of acquaintances we’ve always known about each other, so it wasn’t like we didn’t know how to ask questions to each other. And Jungkook… he’s easy to talk to as he’s always been and he’s so nice and positive and he has a dimple on his cheek when he smiles…” You finish slowly, noticing your racing heart that has come up as a result of this conversation and of your memory. You realize the predicament you’re in, further emphasized by Karly’s growing grin. You groan. “Shut up.”
Karly looks like a Cheshire cat. “I didn’t say anything.”
You grab onto one of the throw pillows and properly hit her in the face. “You’re saying many things right now, you bitch!”
Karly takes the pillow from you and proceeds to whack you in the shoulder. “Not outloud!”
“So you admit it!” You accuse, pointing at her.
Karly yells. “Just admit you still have a crush on him!”
Your groan turns into a cry. “Don’t say it outloud! Now I have to deal with it!”
Your roommate sighs. “Bitch, I can tell you exactly how to deal with this. You’re gonna go on this road trip with Jungkook and see if you guys vibe—you honestly will not find a better way to discover your compatibility with him. If it works out, then you get more than a plus one to the wedding. If it doesn’t work out, just skip the wedding and take the first flight back home. Cut off your friendship with Jimin while you’re at it—it’s the only way to ensure you’ll never have to run into Jungkook again.”
You pout. “That seems a little dramatic.”
Karly thinks for a second, then she nudges you. “Remind me again about that quote your high school English teacher used to always parade around.”
You stare at her for a moment, because you know exactly what point she’s trying to make. Still, you decide to humor her. And yourself. “‘You’ll never know if you’ll sink, swim, or float, until you’re willing to take the plunge’.” You level Karly with another gaze. Your friend has a point. You missed any chance to hang out with Jungkook during your college years—partly because your friend groups never intersected, but mostly because of your internalized fear of fucking up. But now that you are just a little older and just a little more versed in the art of conversing and befriending—maybe Karly is right. Maybe this is your chance to see if a different set of timing could make a difference.
So you sigh.
“I guess I should text Jungkook, huh.”
Karly pats you on the shoulder. “Take the plunge, my dude.”
.
You do take the plunge. You take Jungkook’s business card out from the pocket of your dress and dial the number. He expresses excitement—and also relief.
These things lead up to the current moment. Eight o’clock in the morning: you lingering in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, your suitcase by the door, and a roommate keeping you company.
You don’t realize how nervous you are until you get a text from Jungkook.
Jungkook (8:03am): i’m here! u can buzz me up so i can help u with your stuff :)
You (8:03am): it’s ok jungkook it’s just a suitcase. i’ll be down in a second!
You pocket your phone, and Karly can read the expression across your face before you realize what is going on. She straightens up. “He’s here?”
“Yeah.” You rinse your coffee cup and make your way towards the door. “Did you want to come down with me?”
Karly stops and gives you a look. “I thought that was already implied.”
“Well, thanks, that’s really nice—!”
“Someone has to give you an embarrassing goodbye.”
“There it is.” You sigh. You don’t say anything as you and Karly exit the apartment and make your way down the hall into the elevator. It only takes a few seconds for the elevator to lower down to the ground floor, where you and Karly exit and make your way to the front of the apartment complex.
You swear your heart beats just a little faster as soon as you see Jungkook near the front entrance of the building. He’s wearing a pair of black jackets with an oversized denim jacket and currently looking down at his phone—overall appearing so tall and pretty and otherworldly. For a brief second, you are taken by the fact that for the next four days, he’ll be yours.
Jungkook looks up as soon as he hears the door opening and he smiles. “Hey you.”
You smile, albeit a little lopsided and dreamy. “Hi.”
Jungkook walks towards you immediately. “Here, let me help you with that.” He reaches a hand out and gently takes the handle of your suitcase before you can say anything. Just as he’s taking the suitcase from you, Karly emerges from the building. “Oh, sorry about that.”
Karly waves him off. “Don’t be. I’m Y/N’s roommate—I’m just here to see her off.”
Jungkook stares at her for a moment, then he snaps his fingers. “Wait, I remember you. You went to college with us too.” He jerks his chin towards you. “You hung out with Y/N a lot, right?”
“Yeah, I’m Karly.” She holds out her hand for Jungkook to shake. “And you’re right, she and I hung out a lot. We were roommates back then too.”
Jungkook nods in understanding, before shoving his hand into his pocket. His other hand is still holding onto your suitcase. “Well, I promise to take good care of Y/N.”
Karly smacks her teeth against the side of her mouth as she points at him. “You’re a good man, Jungkook.” She pauses for a moment, seeming to contemplate a new thought. You recognize the look immediately, and your fingers twitch as if you want to strangle her. Or at least let her know you’re throwing her a look of murderous intent. But of course, Karly doesn’t see it. And even if she had, you doubt she’d care. “But no funny business, alright.”
You gape at her. “Karly!”
Jungkook coughs at that. “I-It’s just a drive—y-you don’t need to worry about that.” He does, however, turn away to hide the red that dusts his cheeks.
As soon as Jungkook’s back is facing you, you whirl around to shoot Karly with a glare. “Karly, you’re lucky I’m leaving for the next four days or I would not hesitate to figure out how to make stuffocation look like an accident!” You hiss out between teeth without taking a breath.
Karly glares right back. “You’re really dumb, aren’t you? The fact that he recognizes me because he saw you hanging out with me on campus doesn’t strike any chords? Even though, like you said, you guys weren’t really friends?”
You blink. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Karly widens her eyes. “What the fuck do you mean? Are you dumb with all the boys or just Jungkook?”
“What do you mean!” You snap back.
“So, Y/N, ready to go?”
You whirl back around to find Jungkook now standing in front of you and Karly. He must have finished packing your suitcase in the trunk of his car and is now looking over at you with a tilt in his head.
So you force a smile. “Of course,” You say, turning to Karly. “I was just saying bye to my roommate.”
He nods in understanding, sparing one more glance at Karly before seeming to decide against it because he looks away. He’s still a little red at Karly’s previous comment. “We should get going then.”
“Sure.” You look over at your roommate. “See you, bitch.”
Karly waves back, grinning wildly. You just know she has several other thoughts she’d like to share with you, but has probably deemed you embarrassed enough. Lucky for you, she keeps her mouth shut.
Unlucky for you, without Karly to be a barrier of distraction, this leaves you alone with Jungkook. You slide into the passenger seat of his car, still not yet processing the weight of what you’ve just agreed to. You fiddle alone for a second before Jungkook is opening the driver’s side and shifting into his seat.
There is a silence as Jungkook is starting the car, and a part of you wants to die. Or at least have the ground swallow you whole. Holy fuck, what did you just sign up for?
Your mind somehow takes five seconds to turn into complete shambles that you almost miss Jungkook’s question.
“Here, I’m giving you an important mission,” Jungkook says, rummaging through the various chords that lay over the center console before producing an aux cord. “Should you choose to accept.”
He’s got on such a serious expression you momentarily forget about your anxiety. His usage of the iconic line from Mission Impossible makes you laugh—a breathy sort of noise that escapes when your mind is too full. You still take the aux cord. “Oh my god—ever heard of bluetooth?”
He pouts. “It hasn’t even been five minutes and you’re already insulting my beautiful Celia!”
You raise both your eyebrows. “Celia?”
“Yeah, that’s the name of my car.” He catches the bewildered look you give him before angling himself back to face the steering wheel, where he shifts his console into drive and makes a turn onto the main street. “If you’re already weirded out by the fact I have a name for my baby, then you’re in for a very long four days, Miss. Y/N.”
You giggle, feeling that distraction of nerves start to come off your shoulders. “Not weird at all.” You pause. “Ryan is the name of my car.”
“Ah!” He holds one arm out in a grand gesture. “You see, not so strange after all.” He steals a glance at you, watching as you’re about to connect your phone to the aux cord. “Wait!” He says, pointing a finger at you.
You look up at him, wide eyes.
He’s still holding an arm up. “How’s your music taste?”
You’re still giving him your surprised expression. “You scared me!”
He laughs, returning his hand back to the steering wheel. “Sorry, sorry. I have to ask though—I’d rather know now than later, so I can kick you out and not feel as bad about it.”
Your laughter seems to melt away the last of your nervous energy. “Nice to know you’re putting all your cards out now.” You look down at your phone. “Regarding my music taste… it’s whatever you want dude! I have some lo-fi on here, some pop, alternative, Broadway, anime openings… an ‘everything’ playlist. Honestly, the world is your oyster.”
“How about we start with your ‘everything’ playlist,” Jungkook suggests. “That way I can judge you immediately.”
“Were you always this charming, Jeon Jungkook?” You retort. “Or has graduation changed you?”
“Oh, I’ve always been this charming—you just never noticed.”
That comment, however, goes over your head as you focus down on your playlist. You look over, selecting the shuffle option as Taylor Swift’s soft music from her newest album fills the air. Another silence fills the car, but it’s much more peaceful and comfortable. You allow yourself to settle further into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car.
“So,” You start after a moment. Jungkook hums to let you know he’s paying attention. “What inspired the name Celia?”
Jungkook brightens at the question. “She was this character from a book I read when I was younger. The Night Circus? Anyways, the book is about these two illusionists who try to one up each other with their skills of magic, but they end up falling in love. Celia is the name of one of those illusionists.”
You grin. “Sounds like a very cute crush.”
Jungkook grins back.
The drive out of the city continues like this. The pair of you cover the topic of books, of music, of your favorite animes. Jungkook just has this magical power of ensuring the tension dissipates from your mind and stays gone—whether it’s through his relaxed nature or easy-going teasing or his ability to ease the conversation from one topic to the next. It feels like every conversation you and Jungkook had in college, whether vague or circling around classes, all have led up to this moment. It seems like everytime you or Jungkook run out of things to talk about pertaining to a certain topic, you would bring up memories from college and just continue from there. Everything feels natural.
It continues to feel natural even as you and Jungkook slowly start to see the edges of the city landscape fade away. The high rises fade into shorter buildings and smaller business areas that surround the bustling city scene. You watch as those buildings and business areas become rows of houses. Residential areas in the suburbs, passing by the occasional school or corner restaurants.
“Before we enter the wide unknown,” Jungkook starts up, breaking the quiet that has enveloped the car. “You want to pick up lunch? You hungry?”
You haven’t even realized how much time has gone by until you look at the clock on Jungkook’s dashboard and notice that it’s past noon. You widen your eyes at the sight. “Wow, I didn’t even realize so much time had passed.”
“Yeah, we drove through a few cities. Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?”
“You wish,” You tease, sticking your tongue out. “So, what, do we stop at a Cheesecake factory or something?”
Jungkook blinks. “I thought you were poor—why would we stop at the Cheesecake factory? And why is that the first restaurant that comes to your mind?”
You wave your hands. “It was just a suggestion!”
“Well, I’m realizing that I should probably let you know that the motel I picked for us to drive to tonight is pretty far out—Google Maps says we probably won’t get there until midnight, and that’s with us driving straight through.”
“Midnight? Fuck, Jungkook. Will we make it to the wedding a day early or something?”
“Ha, ha, no. I’ll go over the schedule I planned out tomorrow. Basically, I want to try and cover most of our ground on the first day so we can take the rest of the trip easy. But I thought I’d let you know now that sitting in a restaurant probably won’t be the most time responsible idea.”
“That’s true.” You look out the window again and see the golden arches of McDonalds appear within your line of sight. “Let’s just stop at McDonalds.”
Jungkook follows your gaze. “Alright, down. Let’s do it.”
He exits off the freeway, following down a route that takes him almost immediately towards the McDonalds parking lot. Since this restaurant is still within the lines of the city, it’s not completely deserted. There are a few cars in the parking lot, even fewer cars in the drive-through line. Because of this, ordering the food only takes a few minutes. Both of you get chicken nuggets, sodas, and large orders of french fries.
“You know, we’re really living like kings,” You comment as Jungkook drives out and makes his way back onto the freeway. “College graduates, both somehow able to secure a job, and still ordering chicken mcnuggets.”
Jungkook shrugs. “I wasn’t told this is what adulthood would be like. But I’m not complaining. My 10-year-old self is singing in so much joy right now.” He says this as he’s stuffing a handful of fries into your mouth. You laugh, and hand him a napkin.
You turn the music back on. The pair of you silently munch on your chicken nuggets, as you angle your head towards the side window once again. As Jungkook drives, the numbers of structural spaces become more scattered the longer you both continue down the freeway.
The anime opening to Haikyuu starts playing when you turn back to Jungkook and realize that he’s trying to close the box of his chicken nuggets. You move right away, taking the cardboard from him and closing it yourself. “Let me know if you need anything, Jungkook. Think of me as your co-pilot.”
He laughs gently. “Is that the rule of the passenger seat?”
You shrug, putting the empty box into the McDonalds bag near your feet. “For me at least. Everytime I do one of these drives with family, the person in the passenger seat has to open the snacks, make conversation, and always stay awake with the driver. It’s just courtesy.”
Jungkook is smiling softly now, mostly to himself, but it lights the corners of his eyes that makes you momentarily unable to look away. “You wanna tell me about your family?”
So you do. Your voice becomes softer as you continue, but Jungkook listens to every single word you say.
True to his observation, it’s not long before the pair of you are surrounded by the wide unknown. Houses in the suburbs become farmhouses and farms. Conversations fade from your family to another comfortable silence as you continue gazing out the window. Jungkook requests your lo-fi playlist at some point, filling the car with the soft and distorted hums. It allows your mind to wander as you stare out the window. The empty stretches of land around you are filled with greenery, with mountains, cutting right through the perfect blue of the sky above you.
By 4:00PM, your entire body is starting to feel the ache of having been seated for long hours on end. You feel the tightness in the muscles of your thigh, the bones in your knees.
Jungkook must be feeling the same, because as soon as a sign for a rest stop comes on, he exits the freeway and pulls into a large parking lot. There’s a restroom on the side, but the area is surrounded by trees with mountains standing in the background.
Jungkook stops the car. “We should get out for a bit to move our legs.”
You’re already tugging on the latch that’ll open the car door. “I’m already feeling it in my knees.” You open the door and immediately extend your legs out onto the solid ground beneath you. You let out a sigh of satisfaction, and Jungkook laughs from next to you.
He’s opening his own car door soon after, but he straightens up into a standing position pretty quickly and stretches upwards. He closes the car door behind him, watching as you eventually pull yourself together to do the same.
You turn to face Jungkook. “I’m gonna use the restroom.” You gesture towards the building and earn a nod from Jungkook, who mentions something about doing the same thing. You meet back at the car a few minutes later.
Jungkook gestures to the trees surrounding the parking lot. “Want to take a walk around the area? Keep the blood flowing to our legs.”
You nod. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“Why don’t you get started. I’ll catch up.” Jungkook watches you leave, before opening the trunk of his car and rummaging around.
He does catch up with you, quickly enough that you hardly notice that he had sent you out first. You hear his footsteps, and the call of your name. You turn around. “Jungkook!”
The sight before you makes you waver slightly, as bouts of shyness overtake you. Standing before you is Jungkook, with his camera in hand. The lens is pointed right at you. As soon as you’re staring straight into the camera, Jungkook grins. “Say hi!”
You whine, whirling back around and covering your face. “Are you filming me right now?”
“I’m a photographer at heart, what did you expect?” Jungkook teases back. “Besides, it’s really pretty around here. You think I won’t film it?”
You snort, starting your walk around the parking lot. “Oh yeah, because there aren’t any parking lots and trees and bathroom stops at home.”
Jungkook is quiet for a second. “That’s not what I meant.”
You turn to stare right into the lens of his camera. “Then the mountains, right?”
He’s quiet for another second. “Sure.” He does, however, sound a little disappointed. You do not notice this.
The pair of you stay quiet as you make your round around the parking lot, taking in the mountains from different angles. The walk around is mostly just to rid of the sensation of your legs falling off, but it’s still a nice view to admire. As soon as you finish a complete round, you and Jungkook return back to the car. You watch as he carefully places his camera into his camera bag before you’re both back in your seats.
Jungkook turns to you. “Ready to get going again?” He looks at the control panel behind his steering wheel. “We’ll probably have to stop for gas in a few hours. But after that, it’s straight to the hotel.”
You settle back into the passenger seat. “I guess we already have our dinner plans then.” You’re referring to the gas station.
Jungkook grins. “I’m down for that.”
And so, the trip continues back on the freeway. With the lo-fi playing in the background, you watch as the sun tears through the blue sky, as the sun finally begins it’s dip to the other side. The singular color once spread across the pane of atmosphere now conjugates around the sun crawling behind the mountain—creating a diffusion of new colors. The corner of the mountain emits an explosion of oranges, pinks, and purples.
You lift your head from the window, eyes taking in the rainbow of pastels around the now fading sun. “Wow, Jungkook, look at that sunset.”
He snorts. “You wanna talk about things that you can’t see back in the city?”
You pout. “But it looks so pretty, see!” You keep gesturing towards the sunset.
Jungkook relents just enough to spare a glance in the direction. He hums. “Yeah, it’s pretty.” He looks back at the road. “Can’t really find a view like that in the city.”
You spend a little more time admiring the sunset than Jungkook does, for obvious reasons. You’ve seen a sunset plenty of times before in the past, but the context of this whole situation makes you unable to look away from it. You’re really out here, stuck in a car with someone you have never hung out with for longer than a few minutes. But you are enjoying yourself. There's peace in that.
So you watch until the sun dips below the mountain, momentarily leaving the sky in a navy color.
The next time Jungkook speaks, the area around you is much darker, and the sky is nearly black. “You hungry now?”
You lift your head from the seat, not even realizing you were drifting off. You’re thinking about Irene, wondering if you should have texted her directly congratulating her on the wedding rather than just simply sending in the RSVP. “Sure. We eat as the car eats, right?”
Jungkook smiles, a gesture you can barely make out from the headlines. “Of course.”
This goes on for a few more miles until the sign for a gas station comes up. A few other cars linger near the dispensers. Jungkook parks near his choice and gets out of the car. You follow behind him. He’s already sliding his credit card into the machine, and the sight makes you reach over to grab his wrist.
“I should pay, you’ve been driving all day!”
He shakes his head, waving you off. “We’ll take turns, okay?” He looks at you. “Buy me dinner tonight too, that sound fair?”
You pout, leaning back as you cross your arms. “Not really, but I guess I’ll have to accept it.”
He grins. “You are correct.”
As soon as the gas pump alerts you of the filled tank, Jungkook returns the pump back to the machine and locks his car. Together, the two of you make your way towards the convenience store, where the bell above rings to alert the workers of your presence. Nods are exchanged as you and Jungkook tear through the aisles to find anything that could satisfy your cravings. You return back with family size bags of hot cheetos and beef jerky, while Jungkook holds his selection of roasted seaweed and Doritos. You select your drinks together before returning to the cashier.
It’s nearing 9:00PM as you and Jungkook return back to his car, where you slide back into your seats and immediately tear into your bags of salt and sodium.
“How are you doing?” You ask as Jungkook finishes his first bag of roasted seaweed.
Jungkook pulls out his phone, scrolling through the final stretch needed to reach the hotel. “Yeah, about four more hours to the motel.” He looks over at you. “I’m good. The salt in this seaweed really helps. How are you doing?”
You nod immediately. “Great. Perfect.”
He smiles, shifting his console to drive and pulling out of the gas station. “I’m used to these weird hours. Remember how I told you I traveled around a bit with Mingyu and Wonwoo? There was this one day we only slept for an hour or something? It sucked, I think I almost passed out that day. But yeah, this is honestly not even that bad.” He turns to look at you. “I think the good company helps, too.”
You roll your eyes, grinning. “You flatter me, Jeon.”
Slowly, 8PM turns into 10PM. One glance at Google maps tells you that you’re still two hours from the hotel. Even though you’re not the one driving, and although you haven’t endured any physical activity that could result in this exhaustion, you still find yourself growing tired. Something about sitting under the sun, sitting in a vehicle that rocks side to side with a consistent hum—it makes your mind work slowly and therefore brings out the sleepiness quicker.
You settle deeper into your seat.
Jungkook giggles from next to you. “You tired already?”
You pout slowly, eyes closed just enough. “I’m not a morning person and you made me wake up at 8!”
“Sure, sure, of course.”
There’s a pause.
You ponder a question for a moment. It’s something that you would never dare ask Jungkook if you had been more awake and more alert. But you’re tired, and your defenses are lowered, and it means you are more prone to asking questions. “Hey, Jungkook? Did you have any girlfriends when we were in college?”
Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. “Where’s this coming from?” He asks instead.
You shrug, making a dismissive noise as your shoulders rise up. “Curiosity.”
A pause. “I went on a few dates, but I never had a serious relationship.”
“No way.” You lift your head up from the seat. “But I remember seeing you hang out with the occasional girl in the quad, or at some restaurants around the school.”
Jungkook smiles. It’s hard to read the look in his eyes. They’re focused on the road in front of him, but they seem almost hazy and faraway. “Like I said, I went on a few dates. I did really want to get into a long term relationship in college. A lot of my friends had them, that’s where my parents met, so I was really open to the idea of at least experimenting. There were a lot of girls that I thought were nice, easy-going, or just really pretty, so I tried my hand in the whole dating thing.”
“And it didn’t work out?” You coax out gently.
“Not really,” He continues. He steals a glance at you. “We’d go on a few dates, but none of them ever felt substantial. I think girls see me and have a certain expectation—an expectation I couldn’t meet. So I never could picture myself in a long term relationship with any of them.”
You tilt your head towards him. “There must have been someone…”
“Well… there was one girl.” Jungkook starts after a moment. He’s not looking at you this time. “We had a few classes together earlier—we weren’t in the same major program. I don’t even know if I’d say we were close or anything. We just had a few classes and saw each other around on occasion. But the conversations we did have during class or outside of class just felt more real. Honestly, I could have been totally wrong about her. I could have just been blinded by all these expectations I was putting on her, which is ironic. But she was the only person I could actually see myself being in a long term relationship with. Or at least try.”
You hum, still facing towards him in your seat. “Why didn’t you try anything then? You’re a good guy, Jungkook. I’m sure she would have wanted to try with you too.”
“I guess I was just afraid of pushing it and scaring her off. I thought it was better to stay friends with her than try to pursue something. She never gave me an indication that she felt the same.”
“And how do you feel now?”
There’s a pause this time. “I don’t know honestly. We remained friends up until graduation but, uh, never saw her again. I do wonder from time to time how she’s doing.”
“You should reach out to her,” You advise softly. “Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird.” You grin at him. “You need to make your move.”
It is then that Jungkook turns to look at you. He looks for a little longer this time, eyes focused entirely on you. Underneath the small crescent of the moon above, you are still able to make out his facial features. His cheeks, his nose, his eyes—the latter is glimmering, like he knows something that you don’t.
“I’m working on that,” He mumbles softly. You turn your head back towards the road.
.
You wake up the next morning feeling groggy, dirty, and messy. Your head lifts up from a pillow you can only vaguely remember falling on, laying on top of a bed you only vaguely remember throwing yourself in. There’s sunlight pouring into the room, but it feels like early morning sun. There’s a crisp in the air that you can feel, that you see out of the window. Right outside is the gathering of bushes and trees, a bright blue sky.
You are in the motel.
Slowly, you push yourself into a sitting position, until you’re resting atop the white linen of your bed. Across the room, snuggled in his own twin bed, is Jungkook. His lashes are fanning across his cheekbones, his lips are parted, and his breathing is slow and soft.
It isn’t until Jungkook shifts in bed that you realize you’ve been watching him like a creep. Hastily, you tear your gaze away and decide to focus your gaze down. You notice immediately that you are not underneath the blankets. Instead, you are lying underneath Jungkook’s jacket.
You roll the jacket off your frame, discovering that you are still in last night’s clothes—which explains why you were feeling so groggy and discombobulated. You look across the floor of the hotel room. Your suitcase is near the foot of your bed, and your phone sits on your nightstand connected to your charger.
Vaguely, you recall what had happened the previous night—how Jungkook drove into the hotel room nearing midnight and the exhaustion was so overpowering that you and Jungkook blindly asked for any room with two twin beds before following through and practically collapsing into your respected beds.
You definitely did that, which explains why you were on top of the bed, why you’re still in yesterday’s clothes, and why Jungkook’s jacket was your blanket. Stealing another glance at Jungkook: underneath the blankets and in a different t-shirt—you can assume that he was able to take a shower before lying down.
With a sigh, you push off Jungkook’s jacket and lay it down on the bed next to you. Hoping not to disturb Jungkook, you slide out of bed and lower your suitcase to the ground. After fishing out a new set of clothes, you decide to take a shower.
The warmth from the shower is the best breath of fresh air you’ve gotten since hitting the road with Jungkook. It feels like your body is going through a battery recharge, and it’s one you take your time with. You step out of the shower, running the towel through your hair and drying yourself enough to slip on your outfit for the day. The towel is thrown around your neck as you step out of the shower, letting the steam follow you out of the bathroom.
Jungkook is still sleeping as you step out, which is good otherwise you’d feel bad for having disturbed his sleep time. After all the driving he did yesterday, you figure he deserves a few extra hours regardless of what the schedule calls for.
You continue running the towel through your hair as you pick up your phone. Strangely, you do not remember connecting it to a charger before knocking out, but you pick it up regardless to see the 9:00AM time across your screen.
There’s a quiet that takes over, in which you’re sitting perched comfortably on your bed and scrolling through your phone as Jungkook continues to drift a few feet away from you.
About thirty minutes seem to pass before Jungkook is moaning softly to himself, letting out a puff of air as he slowly opens his eyes. His arms extend above him, knocking into the headboard and making him curse softly to himself. His eyes open as he lowers his hands to inspect the damage before immediately looking over towards you.
He blinks, a tired smile overtaking his lips as he arches his back into a stretch. “Hey,” He greets, voice rough and scratchy and making your heart clench. Damn thing. “You’re awake. You knocked out pretty quickly as soon as we got the room.”
You laugh. “Yeah, I honestly figured that.” You pick up his jacket, as if he hadn’t been the one to lay it on you those hours ago. “Thanks for trying to help me get comfortable.” You gesture towards the nightstand. “Did you find my charger too?”
Jungkook sits up as he continues a small round of stretches and yawns. “I did,” He says. “You were barely coherent, but made enough sense to tell me where it was in your bag. Sorry for going through it, by the way.”
You shake your head, waving him off. “No worries. Thank you again, Jungkook.”
The pair of you stare at each other for a few moments, before that silence is broken by Jungkook’s phone going off. You look down as Jungkook snatches his own phone off the nightstand. He scrolls through something, before placing it back.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” You ask, bringing your fingers through your hair to comb and give you a distraction.
“Oh! Right.” Jungkook swings his legs off the side of the bed. “We have a slower day today. The hotel I picked is only about five hours away? We’re driving through the mountains today, so there’s this place I want to visit that has a little restaurant and everything. It’ll be a cute pit stop.”
You nod. “Awesome, okay.” You curl your fingers around the strands of now loose strands of hair.
It takes another hour until you and Jungkook are packed up again and ready to leave. A quick stop to the lobby provides both of you with a bagel and cup of coffee each as your breakfast. All before you’re once again sliding into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car.
You roll your shoulders before clicking your seatbelt in. “Ready for another long day?”
“Of course.” He digs through his center console, producing his aux cord. “Your mission,” He says dramatically, not unlike yesterday. “Should you choose to accept.”
You laugh gently, taking the cord. “You in love with Mission Impossible or something? This is the second time in two days you’re quoting it to me.”
And this is how your day starts off—talks of Mission Impossible films that bleed into conversations about movies.
The day at 10 o’clock in the morning is bright and blue as Jungkook drives back onto the freeway and continues down the road. The first few hours consist of the surrounding flatland, of green grass and high mountains all around. Conversations between you and Jungkook are a little more scattered today, but there’s a new level of comfort about the situation. With both of you well rested, it invites a more relaxed atmosphere as you pass the occasional joke or story time between the pair of you.
As the sun continues to travel higher in the sky, Jungkook’s car starts it’s approach up the mountain. The trees start enveloping the pair of you into a newer, higher world. Not only that, but whenever you and Jungkook reach a clearing, it exposes a dip of lakes, grass, and mountains. And you, always having enjoyed the views of nature, keep an open eye for every single thing.
You see Jungkook’s choice of destination before he does, and you gasp excitedly.
Up ahead is a cloud of pink, white, and red flowers covering an entire mountain side. There is an occasional pop of cedar trees amongst the covering of pink, white, and red, but the colors are so poignant that it captures your attention immediately.
You point to it. “Is that where we’re going?”
Jungkook grins. “Surprise!” He’s selected this spot before offering the invitation to let you come along, but you’re not complaining. You’ve never been to a flower farm before, despite having heard about them and seen pictures of them for most of your childhood. You continue to watch with wide eyes and bright smiles as Jungkook drives closer and closer to the destination, finally parking in the appropriate lot after paying the fee.
You’re practically vibrating in your seat with excitement. “Jungkook, Jungkook, c’mon let’s go, let’s go!” You push on the latch and nearly tumble out onto the ground. You straighten to stand on your feet, before meeting Jungkook near the trunk of his car. Surprise, surprise, he pulls out his camera and loops the strap over his head.
He’s grinning as he closes the trunk. “You’re a little excited, aren’t you?”
“A little?” You echo, clapping your hands, seemingly unable to wipe the grin off your face. “Jungkook, this is a flower farm! It’s so exciting!”
So you dart off with Jungkook following closely behind you. The parking lot is located at the top of the flower farm, so the tour around the fields is a downwards one towards the bottom. A small pathway maps out a route for you to follow as you take in the various lines of flowers and colors. One short glimpse at the brochure tells you that these are spring flowers, and that you and Jungkook are visiting during the perfect season. You and Jungkook continue through your makeshift tour in silence, taking in the flowers as well as the view that extends out far beyond your line of sight while Jungkook snaps photographs behind you. Words don’t need to be said when everything around you says it all.
At the bottom of the field is a cafe, a small brick building with an outdoor seating area facing the now upward flower display. You and Jungkook order sandwiches and soda, and take your seats outside as you wait for your number to be called. There are a fair amount of people today at the field, most of which you can see ahead roaming through the flowers ahead.
“Have you ever been to a flower farm before?” Jungkook asks, as he glances over at you to see how bright your expression is.
You smile as you turn to him. “No, never. But thank you for bringing me here, it’s beautiful here.”
Jungkook smiles, looking a little smug. He looks proud of himself. “I’ve always wanted to come here, so I’m glad I was able to bring you along.” It looks like he wants to say more, but the number that rests between Jungkook’s fingers is called out, interrupting the conversation. He returns a moment later with the food. “I actually wanted to ask you something,” He says, taking the sandwich plate off the tray and placing it in front of you.
You take the napkins that are being offered to you. “What’s up?”
He settles down into his seat. “I didn’t get to return the question that you asked me last night.”
It takes you a second to realize what he’s referring to. Immediately, you feel yourself turn red as you press your lips together. You were definitely drowsy last night, and hadn’t put too much consideration in the aftermath of asking Jungkook about his college relationships. You instead try for a laugh, as you wave him off. “Well, you don’t need to ask me. It’s pretty boring.”
“Nonsense,” Jungkook brushes off, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So tell me, did you get into any relationships in college?”
You laugh, albeit a little nervously. “No, not really. I never even went on any dates before—I guess, like you, I just couldn’t see myself in any long term relationship with anyone that seemed to like me.”
“Well, how about crushes on your end? Did you like anyone?”
You gaze over at Jungkook—taking in his wide curious eyes, his soft voice, his contagious laugh. The memories of him waving at you in class, of him catching up to you afterwards to continue previous conversations, of him going out of his way to say hi to you in the library. Jungkook has always been thoughtful, considerate, and soft along the edges. How could you not have crushed on him during college?
And how could you not continue to have these lingering feelings for him afterwards?
You think about your own advice you had given to Jungkook. You should reach out to her. Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird. You need to make your move. Could you even follow your own advice?
You look down before Jungkook could start asking questions about your staring. “There was this one guy,” You start, trying for an uneasy laugh. “But I don’t think he ever noticed me. Well, that’s a lie. I guess we were kind of friends? I think it’s more along the lines of me being out of his league.”
“That’s depressing,” Jungkook notes as he finishes his sandwich. You hardly even noticed him inhaling the thing. “How could you be out of a guy’s league? You’re so smart and funny and easy to talk to—if anything, a guy would probably be out of your league.” He leans forward, bringing you close enough where you can clearly make out the mole underneath his lip. “Tell me about this punk. So I can tell you he’s not good enough for you.”
You laugh, keeping your gaze on him. You doubt he’d be so confident had he known about ‘this punk’. “He isn’t a punk,” You remark quietly. “He’s really nice, and really sweet. I was pretty quiet in college. Definitely introverted and kept to myself and had a hard time making friends. Although I would have honestly barely considered him a friend, he just made me feel like my time was meaningful and my attention was valuable to him.” Jungkook’s eyes continue to bore into yours. “If anything, I just wish he knew how much I admire him.”
Jungkook’s gaze is unwavering across your face, once again displaying that unreadable expression. Yet, despite that, something glimmers in his eyes and he seems to come to an understanding you yourself don’t know about. That glimmer keeps swimming across the orbs, even as he switches his gaze between your eyes. They flicker down to your lips for a second, and your heart stutters in your chest.
Jungkook coughs, pulling away from you as he seems to hyper-focus his attention on the soda still in front of him. He looks shy as he steals another glance at you from across the table. “He might not have made you feel that important if you were too scared to tell him how you felt.”
You look down at your sandwich and take another bite. Something about the way he’s staring holes into the side of your face tells you that he knows something that you don’t. You wonder what he’s thinking.
Jungkook wears that thoughtful expression for the rest of the visit to the flower field, as the pair of you return back to his car and slide back in your seats. He stays quiet as you resume the trip, slowly making your way back onto the freeway and towards your second motel.
This kind of quiet is different than the previous silences the pair of you have grown to share over the past twenty-four hours. Unlike the comfortable moments of unspoken words, this is more tense. Like he knows something that you don’t.
You don’t know what to say, or how to break that silence. You don’t know if perhaps you said something you shouldn’t have, or said something to make him uncomfortable. All of those thoughts are not pleasant ones.
Jungkook stays quiet for most of the drive through the mountain. The music you have selected is loud enough that seems to drown the tense atmosphere, but the questions still press themselves deeply into your mind. What is he thinking about?
And worse of all: did he know you were talking about him?
You and Jungkook only speak a handful of times during the trip. He asks you if you need to use the restroom, if you’re hungry, and if you could play him your favorite anime openings. The pair of you have a handful of laughs about your mutual love for Haikyuu and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, but most of the drive to the motel is ridden out in silence.
The pair of you reach the hotel around dinnertime, definitely nowhere as exhausted as you had been the previous night, but just as eager to finally reach your destination. The tension between you and Jungkook has eased slightly, so you can only assume that perhaps he has overcome whatever was bothering him. You yourself have pushed the thought of Jungkook knowing the truth out of your mind. After all, if he had known, you assume he would have brought it up. Or at least called for an Uber to send you home. You assume you would have provided some sort of reaction for the two of you to talk about. But alas, those thoughts follow a conversation that has not happened, and will probably never happen, because you’re sure that you’ll never have to be in a situation that forces your feelings to go out of control once again—!
“Hi,” Jungkook returns to the hotel clerk behind the desk, a girl to be about your age, who is flickering her gaze between you and Jungkook. A flicker in her eyes tells you that she already has multiple thoughts and assumptions about your relationship. “Do you have a room with two beds?”
“Oh!” The girl blinks, momentarily looking taken aback. “Of course, let me check.” She turns her attention to the computer screen in front of her. Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m sorry sir, we only have rooms with one bed available—either a full, queen, or king-size mattress.”
Jungkook makes a noise in the back of his throat as he taps his credit card on the desk. Just watching from the side, you notice how he swallows, how he looks down, how his cheeks turn red. He turns to you after a moment. “D-Do you, uh, do you mind?”
It takes you a second to realize what Jungkook is asking. He’s asking if you’d be okay with sharing a bed with him. Him: your college crush, the guy you never really lost feelings for.
You turn red too. “U-Um…” You press your lips together and swallow. “S-Sure,” You manage, waving your hands out in front of you. “I-I don’t mind. I-If you don’t mind, of course.”
“I-I don’t mind either.” Jungkook, however, looks like he’s about to combust. He looks a little lost again. He blinks once, twice, and seems to realize that he’s supposed to hand the woman behind the desk his card. “Uh, whichever room is the cheapest.”
“That’ll be the room with the full-size bed.” She flickers her gaze between the two of you. “If that’s okay.”
“O-Of course,” He stammers back, allowing the girl to take the card. He looks at you. “Do you mind staying here? I have to go to the bathroom real quick.”
“S-Sure, go ahead.” A part of you wants to hit your head on the desk. What is happening to you? Why is the mere thought of sharing a bed with Jungkook turning you into a pile of mush? You’re a grown ass woman—!
“So the two of you on vacation or something?” The woman behind the desk asks. She’s still in the middle of scanning Jungkook’s credit card.
You try for a smile. “Kind of, we’re going to a friend’s wedding.”
“I see, that sounds fun.” She smiles. “You know, I have to be honest, I was a little surprised he asked for two beds. You guys would make a cute couple.”
At the label, you start to turn red. “O-Oh n-no, we’re not a couple at all. That’s very flattering, b-but yeah we’re not together.”
“Oh, I know,” The girl rebuffs. Her smile looks more like a grin. She places Jungkook’s credit card on the desk, along with a receipt and a pen. “I hope the full size bed will change that.” She gives you a wink.
You part your lips, unsure what to make of the situation. “What—!”
“I’m back,” Jungkook says, sliding up from behind you and making you jump slightly. “What did I miss?”
“Uh…” You wonder if your face is too red or not. It certainly feels that way. “Here!” You push him forward towards the desk. “She scanned your credit card. You just need to sign and we’ll be on our way.”
If Jungkook notices the stiffness in your posture, he doesn’t comment as he leans forward to sign the receipt. Just over Jungkook’s shoulder is the worker, looking at you with a now shit-eating grin across her lips. Several questions ping through your mind, but you don’t get to ask any of those because Jungkook is turning around with his credit card in hand.
“Uh, ready to get going?”
“Sure!” You say, voice a few several pitches higher and you return to wanting the ground to swallow you whole. Jungkook leads the way out of the lobby, and you dare one last glance back towards the woman behind the counter.
She’s waving a slip of paper in her hand.
You turn back to Jungkook. “Hey Jungkook, give me a second. I think we forgot to grab something at the desk.”
It sort of feels like a walk of shame to reach the worker behind the counter, who is still grinning at the sight of you and your internal struggles. She hands you the slip of paper, mouths something that makes you go red, before you’re turning back towards Jungkook. “Good luck,” She had whispered.
Before you’re reaching Jungkook, you open the paper. At the very top is the WiFi password.
Underneath the WiFi password, in what you can only assume is her handwriting, is one sentence. Fate said you guys only get one bed- don’t worry, I think he likes you too :-)
“What was that about?” Jungkook asks.
You shove the paper into your pocket. “The WiFi password,” You supply.
The walk to the hotel room is quiet as Jungkook leads the way through the different hallways, corridors, and numbers on plaques. That tense silence is back as he guides the two of you, stopping only when he reaches the number that matches the one on the index card. He gives you a look, and inserts the card key into the slot. The door beeps, and he pushes open the door to find, true to the word of the lady behind the counter, one full-sized bed in the middle of the room.
For the first few hours, it’s easy to ignore that full-sized elephant in the room. Jungkook takes out his laptop and you guys watch your favorite season of Haikyuu together—it’s season two—or you guys linger about on your phones. It isn’t until nighttime falls into your bones, into your minds, that you realize that you really need to address the new situation.
“I’m gonna take a shower first, if that’s okay,” You say, already sliding off the bed to gather your belongings from your suitcase. Jungkook is humming along to the Haikyuu ending song, but he stops long enough to accept you taking the first shower. He watches you as you fish pajamas out from your suitcase. “Hey, Jungkook…” You start. “Are you sure you’re cool with this?” You gesture to the bed. “I can sleep on the floor. They give you extra bedding for a reason…”
“What? No, of course not, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” He moves until his knees are pressed into the mattress. “And I’m cool with this. Promise.” He hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Y-Yeah,” You manage, straightening into a standing position with your clothes in hand. “I don’t really move around when I’m sleeping. And I trust you, Jungkook.” You keep your gaze on each other until you break it first, turning around to step into the bathroom.
You step out many minutes later, hair freshly washed and feeling much more relaxed than before. Jungkook has moved to the desk in the corner of the hotel room, typing away at some emails on his laptops. He does, however, whirl around upon hearing you exit the bathroom. The sight of you in your sweats, t-shirt, and damp hair makes his eyes linger.
You merely tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can go now,” You say quietly.
Jungkook nods. “Thanks.”
Breaking that eye contact again, you turn to the bed and lift the blankets to slide under the covers. You rest your head on the pillow, and immediately start to drift away.
You are brought back after what only feels like a few minutes, when you hear a light switch turn off followed by the blanket next to you lifting up. You turn slightly towards the other side of the bed. “Jungkook?” You whisper.
A stillness. “Ah shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to be sneaky.”
“Mmm…” You mumble softly, turning your body 180 degrees in order to face him. You can vaguely make out the shadow of Jungkook’s outline. “Don’t worry. I’m a really light sleeper. Come on in.”
There is a shift in the blankets until you feel the additional weight of Jungkook’s figure crawling in next to you. The knowledge that Jungkook is lying right next to you turns your blood hot both with anxiety and because Jungkook brings in a new wave of heat underneath the covers. For a cool spring night, it’s comforting. But also further anxiety-inducing.
Jungkook shifts and even though the pair of you are on opposite sides of the bed, you can still feel the warmth radiating off his body. In the silence of the hotel room, you can hear Jungkook breathing.
“Is this okay?” It’s Jungkook asking. His voice is quiet, soothing, and very close to your face. You realize that you guys are facing each other.
Still, you have to give an answer. “Y-Yeah,” You reply softly. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”
“Goodnight.”
You turn onto your back. You try to go to sleep, you really do. But your heart is pounding, and rather than the blood filling your ears, it’s the sound of Jungkook’s breathing.
“Y/N, you still awake?” Jungkook asks softly.
You snort. “It’s only been a minute.”
Jungkook smiles. “Sorry. I just… I have a question. A thought, actually.”
“What is it?”
“Well, okay, I don’t want to come off as arrogant or self-centered, but it’s just a question and just this thought that I have…”
“Jungkook.” You turn back to face him. “You can ask me the question. I don’t mind.”
“Well, alright.” Jungkook shifts. He’s a little closer now, you can make out the outline of his face. Everything looks slightly more defined now, definitely a result of your eyes adjusting to the darkness. “When you were talking about the guy you had a crush on… you know, when I asked if there was someone you were interested in while we were in college.”
“Oh, I remember.” Your heart feels fuzzy, even though you have no idea what he’s going to ask you.
“Okay, um. I guess I just wanted to know. Were you talking about me?
The world seems to stop tilting on its axis—and all the consequences of that follow along. Everything around you slows to a grind: your heart stops in your chest, and all the air drains out of your lungs. You hold your breath, feeling as if your body has just been dipped underwater. Thousands of thoughts ping through your mind. You feel like that episode of Spongebob where all the file cabinets in your brain are catching aflame. You suddenly feel like you have no thoughts, but too many thoughts at the same time.
Above all, one question rises above all the rest: how did Jungkook know?
You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called. It isn’t until you feel a hand at your shoulder do you jolt. “H-Huh?”
“S-Sorry.” Jungkook sounds a lot more nervous now. “You weren’t responding.”
“I… I was thinking,” You reply lamely.
A pause. “What’s your answer?” Were you talking about me?
You swallow. Should you tell the truth? Or should you deny everything with the hopes that Jungkook will forget this conversation ever existed?
The words spill out before you can think of a proper answer. “What if I was?”
Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “Well…” He starts up again, inching forward towards you. Every move he makes is amplified in your ear, every squeak of the mattress and every rustle of clothing echoed in the small space that is your hotel room. “I’d be kinda frustrated, to be honest. Because when I was talking about my own crush, it might have been about you.”
At Jungkook’s confession, the world seems to come crashing down on you as everything around tries to catch up to you. Immediately, you assume that perhaps you hadn’t heard Jungkook correctly, or maybe you’re completely misinterpreting what he’s trying to say to you.
In a perfect world, maybe you’d say something witty and smart. Maybe you’d play along until he snapped. Maybe you’d be fluent in courting talk and understand exactly what he’s trying to say to you.
But this isn’t a perfect world, and you are neither witty nor smart. You most certainly are not aware of flirtations. You need boys to be as straightforward as possible. Which is why you utter the most comprehensible: “What?”
You feel a warmth at your hip—Jungkook’s hand against your skin. “Ahhhh.” Jungkook starts, not at all sounding fearful but rather casual. Still the underlying case of shyness, however, because this is still Jungkook. “I forgot you sometimes need simple things spelled out for you. Remember when you emailed our Arts History professor three times because you kept forgetting what font she wanted the assignment in?”
You flush—Arts History was the class you and Jungkook were forced to pair up together for. Maybe you would have protested it more had you known Jungkook would turn out to be a little shit over it. “That was a one time thing! You’ve been bringing it up for as long as I’ve known you!”
Jungkook giggles, pulling you closer so your face is against his collarbone and his chin rests on your shoulder. “Shh, okay, okay, I’m sorry.”
Your face is burning at the feeling of your bodies so close together, your fingers pressed against his shirt and your nose against his skin. He smells like floral fabric softener. “Jungkook…?” You whisper softly, breath fanning his neck.
Jungkook tilts his head to rest gently against your temple. He stays quiet for a moment, absorbing the moment. “If you did have a crush on me in college, it would be frustrating. Because I had a crush on you too.”
This time it’s straightforward, just like how you’ve always wanted it. Why can’t you seem to reply?
“Oh.”
“I know.”
You curl your fingers around Jungkook’s shirt. “What if…” You start slowly. “What if I said I still had those feelings?”
Jungkook seems to think about his answer. “I’d say that I do too.”
You swallow, nodding in a way that allows him to feel the movement. “Okay then.”
Without a warning, Jungkook moves to curl his whole arm around your frame. This brings you even closer together. He noses your hairline. “Go to sleep,” He whispers softly. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
A part of you wants to say no—that holding off on confessions isn’t what happens in novels or tv shows or movies. But the larger part of you knows that you won’t be able to have a proper discussion like this when you are weak, tired, and vulnerable. Your heart stalls at his consideration, allowing yourself to be content just like this: asleep, cuddling with Jeon Jungkook as you’ve imagined since you first developed your crush.
It’s much better than the fantasy.
.
You wake up the next morning with Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, his soft breathing against your neck and his lips dusting the skin of your neck. There’s a new kind of comfort you find being held like this, and a part of you wants to melt back into his arms. You think you can pretend to be asleep just to stay here a little longer, but the urgency you have to pee and get the day started becomes too pressing.
Your previous assumptions of Jungkook being a heavy sleeper are confirmed as you manage to untangle yourself from him without so much as a whine from his end. By the time you finish with the bathroom, Jungkook is just beginning to push himself into a sitting position.
You linger near the foot of the bed. “Good morning,” You greet, almost nervously. For good reason to—the memory of last night is vague but defined well enough where you aren’t sure what the next course of action should be. It’s not like your college ever offered a course about what to do when your crush admits to liking you back.
Jungkook looks at you from across the bed. He gives you a small smile, a reassuring one. “Morning,” He says back. “How did you sleep last night?”
You twist your hands together. “Pretty good, actually. How about you?”
“Me too.” He adjusts his position so he can crawl over to you. He slides his legs over the side of the bed right next to you. He brings his hands towards you, palms up. Although he’s close enough to reach you, he doesn’t. Instead, he asks: “Can I?”
You don’t say anything, you merely rest your hand in his. He tugs you towards him, stopping only when you’re standing between his legs. He still keeps his fingers curled around yours, turning your hand up to play with your fingers.
He looks up at you, a soft smile across his lips. “Hi.”
You smile back. “Hi.”
He laces your fingers together, resting them between your bodies. “I guess now for the bigger question… how are you feeling?”
You look down at your hands, deciding you like the way his larger hands cover yours. “H-How did you know I was talking about you?” You ask instead, looking over at him.
Jungkook shifts his gaze away for a moment. “I don’t know,” He admits earnestly. “You were just looking at me back at the flower field and I had a feeling. And I really think a part of me was hoping you were talking about me.”
Unable to help yourself, you feel the side of your mouth quirk up into a small smile. “What would you have done if I wasn’t talking about you?”
He exhales in a laugh. “Honestly, I might have just driven out in the middle of the night and gone over a bridge or something.”
You laugh, trying to diffuse your smile by pressing your lips but it only works so well. “I was really surprised to hear you liked me back.”
“Of course!” He exclaims, looking momentarily shocked that you would feel this way. “I wasn’t messing around when I said you were smart, funny, and easy to talk to. That’s what made me really like you when we first met. Whenever we talked you just felt so real and approachable—like I could just be myself around you. And even now, seeing you after graduating and realizing you’re still all of those things. It just makes me like you more.”
You feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You’ve never thought of yourself in the way Jungkook is describing you—you always just assumed that you were in the background, that you’d never be enough.
Jungkook is looking at you, his eyes big and wide and full of truth. “Is that weird?” He asks.
You shake your head immediately. “No, no it’s not weird at all.” You shrug a shoulder, giving him a meek smile. “It’s really sweet, actually.”
Jungkook grins at that, heaving out a breath as a sign of his lowered defenses. “I think you’re sweet too.”
You groan at that, throwing your head back as Jungkook breaks into a series of giggles. “You’re corny.”
“You’re not complaining,” He points out. This is true.
You shrug. “I guess that means I’m expecting us to catch up on three years of terrible flirting.”
The smile slides off his face. “You’re right.” He brings your joined hands closer together until your whole body is standing closer to his. “Can I ask to kiss you?”
The four letter K word makes your heart stutter in your chest once more. Your hands are so close to his chest that you can feel his own heart beating, and the thought of Jungkook being equally nervous for this gives you enough confidence to return his question. “Why don’t you ask and find out?”
He smiles, a bunny smile that crinkles his eyes. “Touche. Can I kiss you?”
You smile back. “Yes…” You whisper, leaning down just enough for Jungkook to crane his neck up in order to meet each other halfway. It’s just a closed-mouth kiss, a soft weight against your lips.
It’s one that Jungkook pulls away from before you can really enjoy it, really ponder asking for more. “Sorry,” He says immediately, pointing to his mouth. “Morning breath.”
The pair of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. That tense atmosphere is gone, replaced inside with that previously casual and comfortable air—as you step away from Jungkook and let him get his morning started. Except this time, the air is filled with open lingering stares, shy smiles, and Jungkook taking your suitcase wordlessly as you exit your hotel room.
By the time you load into your car, it’s nearing noon and the gas tank in Jungkook’s car is almost empty. The pair of you agree in another champion’s breakfast—gas station food.
“I swear, we’re both going to have terrible breakout tomorrow during the wedding,” You point out. Despite your words, you still tear into your Nacho Cheese Doritos with the aggression of a gorilla. “I’m going to photograph horribly. Irene will be so embarrassed.”
“You photograph horribly? Inconceivable!” He says the word just as it is said in The Princess Bride, which makes you burst into another fit of laughter.
The afternoon pans out the same way it has for the past two days. Jungkook drives onto the freeway, you decide the music, and the conversations fade in and out. Neither of you talk about the events of the previous night or of what happened in the morning—but the way Jungkook reaches out to laces your fingers together is more than enough.
The town Jungkook has selected to stop for the evening is a five hour drive from the wedding venue—and it’s an actual city space this time, with restaurants and grocery stores and apartments. As soon as Jungkook tells you this information, you are bursting with excitement. It’s been two days since the pair of you actually stopped and lingered in a city environment and you miss it.
It takes another whole day of driving to reach the city destination, as the first alert you get is the increasing number of cars that have joined you on the freeway. These more busy freeways guide you into the city, where you are greeted with the first sight of buildings, sidewalks, restaurants, and parking lots in days.
Even though most of these landmarks are simple flashes that you and Jungkook pass through on the way to the hotel he has selected, you keep your eyes glued out of the window in order to take in as much of the surrounding area as you can. You continue to watch as the immediate high rises become more sporadic and spread out, until he’s finally pulling into the hotel. The sun is just setting behind the many buildings along the horizon. Lots of other cars are parked in the parking lot. You can hear other cars, buses, and trunks driving around the background—and you feel strangely comforted by this discovery.
“Are you okay with sharing another bed today?” Jungkook asks as he guides the pair of you into the lobby. “I may or may not have called to make a reservation earlier when you were in the bathroom.”
You laugh, feeling giddy at the thought of Jungkook taking the initiative to continue progressing your now slow-growing relationship. “Was that all they had left?” You ask teasingly as you make your way to the counter.
Jungkook smiles down at you. “Perhaps I didn’t ask…”
Your lips part. “Jungkook!”
“What?” He’s laughing now. “I think I’m gonna bow out of any excuse to cuddle with you now that you’ve given me a taste of what that’s like?”
You’re gasping in the midst of your laughter. “You’re terrible,” You manage.
So Jungkook checks in—true to his word, he has reserved a single full-sized bed for the room.
“Hey, so, I was thinking,” He starts as he’s following the map provided to him by the employee with directions about getting to his appropriate room. This hotel is slightly bigger than the off-the-road ones you and Jungkook pulled into, so it takes a little longer to find the room. After a few minutes of turning the map over, you two eventually find the room.
“What’s up?” You ask as you push open the door and roll your suitcase into the space, with Jungkook following closely behind you.
“Come here,” Jungkook requests gently, watching as you let go of your suitcase and make your way towards him. You move into his space easily, allowing him to hold you by the waist. “Since we’ve both admitted to missing out on three years of courting, flirting, and dating—I think we should go out to an actual restaurant to have an actual date.”
You lean back slightly and give him a slightly shocked look. “Really?”
“Yes!” He says. “Besides, someone has to put their foot down and say that eating only McDonalds and gas station hot dogs is not the right way to go.”
You laugh at that. “True, but we were having so much fun!”
“Nope!” He exclaims, shaking his head. “The foot is going down, we’re going to an actual restaurant for dinner. Get changed, take a shower, whatever you need to do to freshen up.” There’s a finality in his words as he finally steps away from you, the smile of sweetness still on his lips.
The restaurant Jungkook picks after scrolling through Yelp and other lists of recommendations is a corner Italian place that apparently serves the best Linguini and clams—a dish that you really enjoy. So you put something together much more presentable than your usual round of sweatpants and baggy t-shirts—replacing the sweatpants with black jeans and giving yourself a cream colored cropped sweater. It makes Jungkook’s eyes widen all the same. He’s clad in his usual black jeans and oversized coat that is perfect for the spring breeze.
Since the restaurant is within walking distance of the hotel, you and Jungkook agree to chill off on the driving just enough to stretch your legs and actually have a walk for once—all while celebrating the final night of the road trip.
“I was a little worried about this at first, to be honest with you,” You admit softly to Jungkook, long after the pair of you have been seated in a corner booth and have ordered your food. You’re circling the pasta noodles around your fork, and Jungkook is watching with a touch of amusement and adoration in his eyes.
“Not gonna lie, so was I,” Jungkook returns back with an equally meek smile.
You gape at him. “You invited me though!”
“I did!” Jungkook exclaims with a laugh, looking down at his own order of food. “Me inviting you was honestly a spur of the moment thing. Me catching up to you, however, was me trying to be brave.”
“You seemed pretty brave throughout most the trip,” You point out
Jungkook shakes his head, situating his arms in a cross motion. “Nah dude that was just all a very well thought out facade. A part of me was expecting it to go terribly so I could at least walk away knowing that I built you up in my mind and the fantasy of that was better than the reality.” He must see the look of uncertainty casting a shadow over your mind because he immediately cuts back in. “Just so you know, the reality is much better than anything I could have conjured up.”
You lower your chin slightly, staring over at Jungkook. You bring one shoulder up into a half-hearted shrug, maybe to showcase a certain level of carelessness. “What were you conjuring up then?”
“Oh, I don’t know if you want to go there right now,” He rebuffs, looking a little red in the cheeks. “I think we should start slow. Refer to the PG thoughts, if you will.”
You laugh, focusing your gaze momentarily on the last of your pasta. You had sorted through the clams, since they weren’t your favorite things to eat. “Jungkook, are you admitting to me that you have thoughts above PG?”
“Oh shit, that wasn’t my intention!”
You giggle. “I’m messing with you, Jungkook!”
He pouts. “Don’t do that.” He rests his hand on the table, palm up, inviting for you to take it. “I just want to spend today with you, and take it slow—I just want to hold your hand and kiss you and lay with you and just be with you in the way I couldn’t be with you in college. Is that too weird?”
You look down, pressing your lips together, trying not to squeal and definitely not trying to throw yourself off the chair. You look back over at him and squeeze his hand. “That’s not too weird at all. That’s actually really sweet. Honestly, those are things I probably would have asked for regardless. I don’t really know the rules of dating—I never really went out that often.”
Jungkook smiles sweetly back at you, he brings your hands up to kiss the back. “I’ll give you a few pointers then, let’s get going.”
After the check is paid for—it ends up being a split between the two, it’s the best compromise you can come up with considering he wants to take you out but you want to pay him back for driving this far—the pair of you emerge back into the city space. Jungkook’s hand is still wrapped around yours, using that connection point to pull you close to him.
“Now this move,” Jungkook explains, beginning to lead you both back to your hotel room. “Is when the gentleman walks the lady home, because their date went by smoothly and he wants to see her for as long as possible.”
You laugh. “I’m enjoying this so far.”
The pair of you continue down the sidewalk, using the time it’ll take to walk back to the hotel to walk off the food in your stomach. You resume your conversation, giggling and laughing all the same until you’re walking through the lobby of the hotel and slowly making your way to your hotel room.
Right before you step inside, Jungkook stops you. “Normally, the front door is where the gentleman drops the lady off, and they talk about how well the date went.”
“Oh, well, in that case, this was so nice, Jungkook,” You remark, beaming at Jungkook’s own smile. “I’m glad you convinced me to eat real food for once.”
“You’re welcome—I had fun too.” Jungkook slides closer to you. You, completely hypnotized by his next movements, watch as he cups your face with his hand to angle you upwards. “This is the part where we have a first kiss, because the stars are lined up for this. And because I really want to.”
You smile, curling one of your hands around the wrist near your face. “Seeing as we’ve already had our first kiss, how about a second one?”
Jungkook smiles back, eyes lidded towards your mouth. “I guess that’ll work.” His lesson on dating, it seems, is done, as he leans in to kiss you. You suck in a breath as he covers your lips with his. It’s deeper than the first time he kissed you—which had been more of a peck with a side of morning breath. But now you’re both awake, tasting like wine, and drunk off each other. It’s a more real kiss.
You whimper as Jungkook’s tongue runs over your bottom lip, before slipping into your mouth. It’s a sensation you can get completely lost in, until Jungkook pulls away.
Under the hallway light, you can make out his flushed cheeks, his wet lips, his dark gaze.
Immediately, Jungkook is pulling you to his side before he starts digging through the pockets of his jeans. “Alright, we’re going inside right now.”
You lean into his shoulder. “I thought I was supposed to invite you inside, Jeon? What happened to giving me pointers on first dates?”
“Screw that,” He retorts, practically shoving the hotel door open. He turns around to face you. “Now, this is our hotel room. And I want to kiss you in private.”
Your laughter is drowned out as Jungkook tugs you by the wrist into the room.
.
Under different circumstances, waking up next to each other after a first date would hit you with a wave of anxiety and maybe even a vague sense of embarrassment at letting someone you like see you in such a vulnerable position.
Right now, however, under the morning sunlight within the covers of your shared hotel bed, you just feel happy and content. You wake up on your side, with an arm resting over Jungkook’s chest and his fingers curling around your own. There is an immediate feeling of giddiness that overtakes you, because it’s hard for you to believe that this is happening. Someone you’ve liked and continue to like actually returning your feelings? That has always been such a foreign concept to you.
You don’t know how long you continue laying in bed until Jungkook starts shifting next to you, signalling his wake. You watch as his eyes slowly peel open, laced with grogginess but still looking unfairly attractive that there are butterflies in your stomach.
Jungkook lets out a sigh, as he looks down at you. A tired smile takes over his expression. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” You reply back, voice soft and a little shy. “Happy wedding day.”
That is true. Today is Irene’s wedding—an event you and Jungkook will arrive at in nearly five hours. There’s a strange sort of knot that is beginning to twist itself in your stomach, a knowledge that something good is coming to a close but a fear in the unknown as to what this would mean regarding your relationship with Jungkook. Neither of you have laid down groundwork for your relationship—if this even is a relationship to begin with. You may be inexperienced with this kind of stuff, but you’re sure that one date and making out on a hotel bed doesn’t immediately constitute an exclusive relationship.
If Jungkook notices the tension in your form, he doesn’t say anything. He kisses your temple and grumbles something about wanting to get the day started. He mentions something about not having to worry about getting dressed for the wedding straightaway—that he has reserved a room at the hotel some of the guests of the wedding would be staying at, which is where you will be getting ready before the event. You nod, hearing pieces of his words, but a lot of it gets lost in your own thoughts.
Is it okay to ask questions about where you stand with Jungkook? Is it foolish of you to even bother wondering? You’ve seen movies and have had conversations with friends about guys who dismissed questions like that as ‘moving too fast’. You don’t want to scare Jungkook off, but you also need to know that you’re not wasting your time.
You remain in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you sigh and try to organize through your thoughts. You also try to break down how the past three days have been.
However, trying to do so proves to be a difficult challenge, as Jungkook’s phone starts buzzing excessively on his side of the nightstand—it seems like he is getting a series of text messages from someone.
You know you shouldn’t be looking or prying, but the constant binging of alerts only eats at your nerves more. You turn in the bed towards Jungkook’s side, picking up the device to search for the silence switch along the sides. The screen, however, lights up and you immediately see a name you have not seen or heard since college.
Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts
Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think
Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :)
You freeze, feeling your body overload with information and questions come flooding into your mind. At first, you think you reread the message wrong. You think that maybe Jennie is texting the wrong person. But after the third or fourth time, you realize that this isn’t a dream. That Jungkook already has a plus one to the wedding, and it isn’t you.
More than that, it’s Jennie.
Jennie is also someone you went to college with, and someone that you only heard of between the grape vines and therefore is someone that is only vaguely recognizable. But you definitely know her. Jennie had been one of Irene’s friends, president of her sorority—and labeled some of the nicest people on campus. Even just from rumors and the one time you ran into her around the school, you can see it. Jennie is nice, beautiful, friendly, and outgoing. All the things you are not.
And now, she’s Jungkook’s plus one to the wedding. And Jungkook did not tell you.
Your lips part as your head starts to spin. Why didn’t Jungkook tell you he already had a plus one to Irene’s wedding? Maybe he did not owe you the explanation, and maybe you should never have assumed he’d be your plus one to the wedding.
The thought of you assuming Jungkook would be your date to the wedding fills you with a vague mortification—why did you have to go ahead and assume?
Your mind starts to spiral as you fall into the depths of overthinking. Now you were set to attend a wedding alone, with no plus one, and surrounded by people you don’t know. All while watching Jungkook sit with Jennie, eat with Jennie, and dance with Jennie.
Holy fuck, holy fuck, what were you going to do? You can’t go to this wedding alone. You can’t confront Jungkook about this—you’re not even supposed to be touching his phone or looking through his phone. He would definitely be upset. How could he not be?
At once, the tears collect in your eyes. How could this be happening? Seconds ago, you had been so content and happy, excited to attend this wedding with Jungkook. Seconds ago, you had been confident about your feelings, and Jungkook’s feelings in return. From all the kisses he showered you in, the date, the talking, the confessing—how could you not feel that way?
Had Jungkook just been pulling your leg? After all, he did have three years to talk to you, to go out with you. Why hadn’t he said something sooner? Is he here right now: talking to you and laughing with you because he hadn’t found anyone and knows that you would do anything for him?
In the background, you can vaguely make out the shower in the bathroom turn off, signalling Jungkook’s near completion with the bathroom. At once, it feels like you’re in a car that has enforced sudden breaks and has sent you flying against the dashboard—like you can’t breathe.
Hastily, you rest Jungkook’s phone back on the nightstand and roll back over to your side of the bed. You blink quickly, trying to rid of the tears that have collected in your eyes while also trying to calm the lump in the back of your throat.
Just as you’re starting to get a handle back on your feelings, the bathroom door opens and you can vaguely make out Jungkook’s humming as he exits. The fact that he sounds so carefree while you’re hurting only a handful of feet away almost makes the tears come back in. But you’ve learned how to hide your emotions well.
Jungkook’s soft laugh brings you out of your thoughts. “Still in bed?” He asks jokingly, sitting on the edge and placing a hand on your ankle. You try not to stiffen at the gesture. “You know, even though we’re getting dressed at a different hotel, we still need to get going.”
You take in a breath. “I’m comfortable here,” You exclaim, sitting up and facing Jungkook. He’s looking as wide-eyed, easy-going, and comfortable as always. You’re not sure how long you can keep up the facade of being okay. “I was just waiting for you, that’s all.”
You don’t wait for him to reply as you slide off the bed, grab your clothes from your suitcase, and lock yourself in the bathroom. You ignore the lump in your throat as you brush your teeth, as you get your day started. Finally, you look up at your own reflection in the mirror. Unlike previous times, when there had been a glimmer to your gaze—you don’t know you recognize the now disheartened individual before you.
You exit the bathroom and immediately turn to pack up your suitcase once more, ignoring Jungkook in the process. The boy is on his phone, typing something—probably a text message. Maybe he’s responding to Jennie, confirming their date for tonight, as he remains completely oblivious to your feelings.
The thought brings the tears back to your eyes.
“Ready to go?” Jungkook asks, all smiles and soft eyes as he slides off the bed to face you.
You don’t look at him as you shoulder your carry-on bag and straighten into a standing position. “Yeah.” You don’t mean for the tone to come out dry and unresponsive, but you’re too focused on trying to get the tears out of your throat.
You miss the way the smile slowly slips off Jungkook’s face as he watches you move towards the door.
Jungkook moves towards you, reaching forward to take your suitcase from you just as he’s done for the past few days.
You, however, brush him off. “It’s okay, Jungkook.” You pull open the door and make your way down the hallway without looking back to see if he’s following closer behind you. You don’t need his help, you don���t need his pity. You don’t need him to do these things, to lead you on—especially if he was going to end up with some other girl at then end of the day.
You stay quiet as you make your way to Jungkook’s car. Jungkook steals the occasional glance in your direction, seeming to finally realize that something is wrong.
He, however, doesn’t say anything until you’re back on the freeway—on the five hour drive towards the wedding venue. “Everything okay?”
You’re playing with your hair, but you stop long enough to spare him a short glance. You’re not even looking at his face, you’re looking at the chair he’s seated on. “What do you mean?”
Jungkook clears his throat. “You’ve been really quiet since I got out of the bathroom. You…” He gestures to the center console. “You’re not even playing any music.” He tries for a smile. “I’d really like to listen to your ‘everything’ playlist.”
“Sorry, I’m not really in a music-listening mood right now,” You whisper, realizing that you should probably cover up your ass a little better than you are currently. “S-Sorry, I think it was something at the restaurant yesterday. I’m not feeling super hot right now.”
“Oh no, do we need to stop by a pharmacy or something? I can run in and get some stomach machine or whatever—!”
“Jungkook, it’s fine.”
Maybe it’s the finality of your tone, or the sharper edge in your voice, but Jungkook quiets down again. One glance in his direction shows you the furrow of his eyebrows, the set of his jawline—he looks hurt and confused. And that kills you inside.
A small part of you wants you just lay all your cards on the table—to admit your side of the story and let him know about the texts and the hurt feeling still eating itself at your heart.
But another part of you, the bigger part of you, doesn’t want to give Jungkook that power. You don’t want to be the one to crack first, to be the one who gets hurt first. So you refuse to say anything, settling deeper and deeper into the seat of Jungkook’s car. Contrary to your initial thoughts, he doesn’t plug in his own phone to play his own music. He simply allows the pair of you to bathe in silence.
Without the music to distract you, without Jungkook trying to make conversation, it forces your mind to linger on the events of the early morning. Maybe Jungkook didn’t tell you because it was obvious to him that the pair of you would never have been a plus one to the wedding in general. He’s probably hurt because Jungkook can’t get his way with you.
The realization that he doesn’t even have the consideration to warn you ahead of time that an invitation for a ride doesn’t equate to an invitation to be a plus one brings the tears back to your eyes. Did you not even deserve a warning? Why would Jungkook let you kiss him, let you fall in love with him—only to turn his back on you like this?
You have to keep your eyes glued to the window of the passenger’s side of the car, just to make sure Jungkook won’t see the tears. You can just imagine that he’ll ask, and the conversation will steer the pair of you into an even more awkward space.
It’s a very agonizing five hours. Not having that time to recover from the shock of those texts is becoming increasingly more difficult for you to handle.
There are a few times that your tears overwhelm your whole system, where you have to sniff to get a handle on your body’s response to the emotions going through your body—which you’re sure Jungkook can hear. After all, there’s no music playing and there is a silence that is threatening to swallow you whole.
Jungkook, however, does not say anything in response to your very obvious sniffle. He merely tightens his grip on the steering wheel, and keeps his mouth shut. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to talk first, to explain what’s going on with you.
The sky is bleeding orange by the time Jungkook pulls into the new hotel, the final hotel. There is still two hours until the wedding is set to start, but every nerve in your body is screaming for you to leave and go back home. Every nerve in your body is telling you that you don’t belong here anymore.
“Okay, I let you have your peace for the whole drive over,” Jungkook starts off, voice tight, fixing the car into park. “But I’m asking you this right now. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem fine… and I’m worried about you…” He reaches across the car to land a hand on your shoulder. It’s a completely normal gesture, especially between you and Jungkook, but you cannot handle it.
You jerk away. “I’m fine,” You snap out, actually fixing your gaze on him this time. Jungkook recoils, immediately retracting his arm from you, looking like you just burned him. You tear your gaze away from him. You’re not strong enough to see him hurt because of you. “Why do you care anyways?”
Jungkook exhales in disbelief, turning towards the steering wheel of the car and running a hand through his hair. “What are you talking about? Is this about last night? Did I… say something to scare you off?”
“This isn’t about what you said, this is about what you didn’t say and what you’re not telling me!”
Jungkook looks like you just grew a second head. “What are you talking about?”
You whirl back to face him. “Oh, so the fact that you and Miss. Jennie were already set to go to this fucking wedding together and you didn’t even think to give me a heads up and tell me?”
Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights. “What? How did you know about that?”
You laugh, but it’s a hollow noise that only makes that lump come back to your throat. “Nevermind,” You bite out. This time, you don’t stop the tears from resurfacing as you give Jungkook a full look this time. His demeanor changes from frozen to pained at the sight. “I hope you guys are very happy together.”
You don’t say another word as you fumble with the latch of the door before pushing it open with more strength than necessary. You can vaguely hear Jungkook struggling with his own seat belt, but you don’t care. You slam the car door shut and storm away. You don’t know where you’re going—maybe around the corner to scream, or to call a taxi that’ll take you to the airport. You don’t care about the wedding. You don’t think you could face the embarrassment in facing Jungkook or Jennie or Irene right now.
“Shit, Y/N! Y/N!” Jungkook is calling for you now, his footsteps loud against the asphalt.
Everything feels like you’re going through water, which is probably why Jungkook is able to reach you as quickly as he does. He catches you by the wrist.
“Y/N—please, will you stop and just listen to me?”
“No! Jungkook, let me go.” You start trying to tug your wrist, trying to pull yourself away from him. “Let me go! I’m leaving! I don’t want to see you anymore!” You’re gasping, the tears blurring your vision and making you feel powerless.
Without a warning, Jungkook pulls you in his arms. Wrapping his arms around you, he traps you in his embrace. And you are miserable.
“Stop it!” You gasp, trying to push him away. You’re heaving—crying and trying to escape from someone as strong as Jungkook is definitely a workout for your body. “Jungkook, leave me alone. This is all my fault.”
He pauses. “What do you mean?”
You stop struggling, allowing Jungkook to hold you as you pull back enough to look away from his face. You wipe at the tears on your face. “It’s my fault anyways. I said I liked you and you said you liked me too, but maybe that wasn’t enough for you. Just because we like each other doesn’t mean we’re exclusive. I should have asked up front, so I wouldn’t get hurt in the long run.”
“You don’t need to get hurt though,” Jungkook whispers kindly, his voice overcoming the blood in your ears, as well as your own yelling. You quiet down at that, except for your own lungs contracting to catch more air. This leaves you a hiccuping mess. He waits until he knows you’re not going to say anything next. “You’re right, okay? Jennie and I were supposed to be each other’s dates.”
You’re still trying to catch your breath.
Jungkook rests a hand on top of your head, curling his fingers through the strands of your hair soothingly. “Are you okay?”
You hiccup. “Why are you telling me this? I just told you that I’m hurt right now…”
“Shhh.” Jungkook pulls back and cups your face in his hands so you can look at him. “You aren’t listening to me. I said we were supposed to be each other’s dates. We’re not anymore.”
You blink, allowing the tears that were already filling your eyes to fall down your cheeks. Jungkook wipes them gently with his thumb. “What?”
Jungkook’s gaze flickers between your eyes. “Jennie and I are friends, so we’d figure it would be fun to just go together and have a person to sit with, eat with, and dance with. As friends.”
“W-What happened then?” You ask, a watery color in your voice.
Jungkook gives you a gentle smile, the kind of gesture that tells you that you should know the answer already. “You happened, silly.” He keeps his eyes on yours. “I saw you at the party with Jimin and invited you to come with me. I assumed when I asked that we’d be each other’s plus ones. I forgot to tell Jennie though when I asked you out.” He tilts his head at you. “You saw the texts on my phone, didn’t you?”
“I-I’m sorry.” You hiccup again. “Your phone kept going off this morning and I was just trying to put it on silent. I-I didn’t mean to look through your messages…”
“Shh, baby, you’re good, you’re okay.” Jungkook interrupts gently, wrapping his arms tighter around you and swaying the pair of you back and forth. The usage of the nickname fills you with a new feeling, a warmer feeling. It helps calm you down.
Your breathing eventually evens out, bringing you back to reality and to the realization that you and Jungkook are hugging in the middle of a hotel parking lot.
Jungkook loosens his grip on you, letting you step back. He watches you for a moment. “Here,” He says, digging through his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I think you should see this.” He clicks through a few of his apps, until he seems to find what he’s looking for because he hands the phone to you. You look over at him, confusion flooding through your features. Jungkook gives you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay.”
Still hesitant, you take the phone and look at the messages across the screen. It’s the texts from this morning.
Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts
Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think
Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :)
Jungkook (10:20AM): hey Jennie !! oh shit i totally forgot to let u know but i actually found a plus one :( i’m soooo sorry i should have told you earlier omg i feel terrible
Jennie (10:20AM): no worries jungkook !! who is it omg do I know them?
Jungkook (10:20AM): it’s actually Y/N? We all went to college together…
Jennie (10:20AM): OH!!!! wait isn’t she the one Irene was working with a lot for senior projects?
Jennie (10:20AM): OH HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO
Jennie (10:21AM): OKAY JUNGKOOK I SEE U
Jennie (10:21AM): she’s THE Y/N right???? the one u were in love with for our entire college career??
Jungkook (10:22AM): …… maybe?
Jennie (10:22AM): WOWOWOWOW good for u Jungkook !!! glad to see u finally having the balls to ask her out !!
Jungkook (10:22AM): OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH
Jungkook (10:23AM): I actually felt BAD for leaving you by yourself BUT NOT ANYMORE
Jennie (10:23AM): LMAO Jungkook I’m friends with Irene’s entire bridesmaid row i’ll be fine
Jennie (10:23AM): just go get ur dick wet!!!!!!
Jungkook (10:23AM): istg i will leave you on read
Jungkook (10:23AM): also that is NOT the point!!!!!! Just wanna love my new girl :(
Jennie (10:24AM): You’re gross
Jennie (10:24AM): but sounds good see you tonight!
You look up from Jungkook’s phone to see him watching you carefully, gauging your reaction, pleading for you to forgive him.
The only thought that can be translated into a coherent sentence comes out: “You were in love with me during college?”
Jungkook exhales in a laugh, his arms finding your waist once again. “I think ‘in love with’ was a bit of a stretch back then. I think you could agree that we didn’t know each other well enough before for me to say that.”
You’re still looking at him. “Back then…?” You echo.
He nods. “Back then.” He brings you closer, one hand moving up to gently brush at the skin of your cheek. “But it’s different now. Now, I can say with absolute certainty that I’m in love with you.”
Your lips part. “You’re in love with me?” The tears spring back into your eyes, but for a different reason entirely. The emotional rollercoaster you have just been on is unbelievable.
Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight of your tears. “Oh shit, I’m sorry! Is that too fast? I’m sorry, I should have given you a warning or something. Or more time at least. Oh no, please don’t cry…”
You brush him off with a watery laugh, waving his concern away. “It’s okay Jungkook. This is fine, really.” You give him a smile. “I love you too. I really thought you were pulling my leg or something.”
Jungkook gives you his own small smile. “I’m sorry. I should have brought this up sooner about us being each other’s plus ones. Just because I assume something doesn’t mean it’s an established thing.” He brings you closer, his smile turning into a grin. “You love me too, huh?”
You giggle. You’re too strung out to come up with something witty or clever. “Yeah…”
Jungkook is still smiling, his gaze switching between your lips and your eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
You nod. “About time.”
He kisses you again, softly and sweetly, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips but it’s gentle caresses that make your heart feel like it’s crawling up your throat.
“OH MY GOD GET A ROOM!” A voice calls from the other side of the parking lot, forcing you and Jungkook to pull away. The pair of you look at each other and you start to laugh.
Jungkook kisses your forehead, sweeping down to your ear. “How about we check into our room and get ready?”
You giggle, nodding over at him. “That sounds good.”
So Jungkook leads the way, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you gather your suitcases from the car and enter the lobby. You check in easily, as Jungkook is provided a map with directions on how to reach the room.
The pair of you don’t pull away once until Jungkook is sliding the key card into the door and pushing it open to reveal the bedroom you’ll be sharing for the night.
Both you and Jungkook park your suitcases near the foot of the bed, as per usual.
“Do you want to use the bathroom?” Jungkook offers.
You nod, smiling softly. “Okay.”
You gather the dress you’ve brought in your arms, about to enter the bathroom, before Jungkook’s voice stops you. “Hey,” He calls, approaching you and wrapping you in his arms again. He’s much more handsey this time, like he needs to make sure you’re not going to run away again, like you’re going to be okay. “You feel better now?” His thumb brushes your lips. “Your eyes are still a little red.”
You nod. “The makeup will probably help that,” You reassure in a soft voice.
Jungkook mirrors your movements. “Still, how about I get some ice for you so you can put something cold underneath your eyes… to stop the puffing.”
He looks genuinely concerned and worried for your wellbeing that you can’t help but smile. Since he is insisting, you decide to just let him be. “Okay, Jungkook.”
He smiles. “Okay! You start getting ready and I’ll get the ice, okay?” A quick kiss on your cheek before he’s bounding out of the door with the provided ice buckets.
Your eyes linger on the door for a few minutes before you’re turning back to your suitcase. The dress you have picked is a pink flowing floor-length number—something Karly helped you pick out before leaving. It’s soft enough that it doesn’t leave crease marks along the fabric, which had made this outfit perfect for the trip. You take the dress and your bag of makeup before entering the bathroom. You’re just slipping on the dress when you hear the hotel room door open and close.
“Okay, I got the ice!” Jungkook announces through the bathroom door. “Did you want to work on your eyes right now?”
“Sure,” You call back. “Do you mind zipping me up first?”
“Of course,” Jungkook returns, sounding distracting as you open the door to the bathroom. You peek your head through, noticing Jungkook opening his suitcase on the floor and sorting through it—probably for his own suit.
He must hear the door open, because he looks up towards you. Immediately, his eyes widen as he straightens up into a standing position. “O-Oh wow…” He’s looking you over up and down, up and down, as if he needs to commit this to memory. “Y-You look great. Beautiful.”
“Really?” You stammer back. “Thank you.”
Jungkook keeps his eyes on you as he approaches you. “You needed me to zip you up?”
“O-Oh right, yeah.” Hastily, you turn around, brushing the hair from your back to expose your undone zipper, and your bare back.
You think that he purposely grazes the tips of his fingers against your skin in his process of bringing the zipper up to the top of the fabric. You’re about to turn, thank him, but his hands back at your waist do the gesture for you. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You look really pretty.”
You pout. “You’re being too nice to me.”
Jungkook whines, hugging you close to him. “You’re too cute.” He noses at your temple. “I just wanted to see you smile.” He pulls away after a moment. “Let’s take care of your face, yeah?” He turns around and returns with a small baggy full of ice. “Here, sit down for a second.” He leaves for a second, returning back with a towel. “Maybe… five minutes each eye. I don’t know. I’ll get ready while we’re waiting.”
So he takes his suit out from his case and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with a towel of ice pressed against your eye. The cooling sensation definitely helps with the puffiness.
Jungkook appears from the bathroom a few minutes later—dressed in a black suit with a white button-down and a long skinny black tie. His hair has been fiddled with a little, but he still has that messy, boyish, lovable appearance that makes your heart race.
“Did you switch the towel?”
You nod.
“How do you feel?”
Slowly, you bring the towel down and rest it on your lap. You look at Jungkook. “How do I look?”
He leans forward towards you, holding your chin gently between his fingers. “You look better. Did you need to finish getting ready?”
“Yeah. I just need to touch up my makeup.”
“Okay, go ahead then.”
Jungkook takes the towel, and watches as you make your way back to the bathroom. You’re only gone for a few minutes before you’re emerging once more—eyeshadow a little darker, lashes a little closer, and lips slightly pinker, but overall still looking like the same version of the girl he fell in love with.
The pair of you drive to the wedding venue, a cute brick building with browns, greens, and whites surrounding. Guests already swarm the outside area, some of whom you recognize from college. The sight makes you nervous.
Jungkook sees this, and he reaches over to grab onto your hand. “You can just stick with me, okay?” He smiles. “I’ll protect you.”
You roll your eyes, but you are thankful to have Jungkook as your source of comfort and be that person you could run back to.
He parks and meets you at the front of his car, where you lace fingers and make your way towards the venue. You go through a small round of hellos and ‘nice to finally meet you’ conversations—most notably from Mingyu and Jennie, both of whom light up at the sight of your presence. Contrary to your previous worries, you find that you don’t really need to be so nervous. Mingyu and Jennie are friends of Jungkook’s for a reason—they radiate a relaxing nature that you can tell is what has drawn the three of them to each other.
They ask about you, your college experience, your current experience, passing easy conversation in the ceremony space right before the start of the wedding. It’s fun to see Jungkook joking around with the friends he grew up with, and even more fun to see how easy you are allowed into that world.
The actual wedding ceremony is a blur. You vaguely recognize the extremely attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Seokjin at the head of the aisle. You definitely recognize the equally as attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Irene, downed in white lace and looking much more beautiful than you ever remember her. Vows are exchanged, kisses are shared, there’s an applause, and pictures are taken before the guests are ushered into the main entry room—decked out with a bar and a few scattered seating areas. Jungkook whispers to you that guests are put here temporarily, as the ceremony space is being converted into a dining area.
True to Jungkook’s promise, he lingers by your side most of the night. Although you reassure him that you are fine, you are much more emotionally stable compared to a few hours ago, and that perhaps you are okay catching up with Nayeon—another girl from college, actually someone from the first party you ever attended who defended you when you were receiving unwanted attention—but Jungkook simply tells you that he likes being around you. He likes being able to put his arm around you, likes to rest his hand at your waist, likes people knowing that he has you.
It’s a few more minutes of conversation, of laughter, of old stories being exchanged between people you haven’t seen for years, when the guests are called back into the newly converted dining area. Instead of rows of chairs lined up, there are round tables filling the space. The long panel of doors once closed along the wall of the room have been opened—exposing a gazebo with a D.J. and a dance floor, all encircled by a string of big bright fairy lights.
You and Jungkook are situated at the same table as most of the guests you recognize from college. You assume this is purposefully done to give you all a common ground, and it works because conversations spring easily between you all. Even when you’re not talking about your experiences from university, you’re able to transition from topic to topic. You and Jungkook occasionally talk amongst yourselves as you’re eating, but you sit together and laugh together when Irene and Seokjin emerge and listen in during the wedding toasts.
Finally, Irene and Seokjin make their rounds through the room, stopping at the tables to cheer and laugh and exchange a few words of congratulations and conversation. Following this process, everyone at your table stands on their feet as Irene and Seokjin make their way towards you. There are bright smiles, Irene’s cheerful gasp as she takes in all the guests that have come to join her. She circles your table, hugging every guest, continuing this when she reaches you.
Irene grins at the sight of you. “Y/N! Oh my gosh, it’s been so long!”
“I know!” You return, pulling away from Irene. “Congratulations. This wedding is beautiful.”
She beams, absolutely radiating in her white dress and glittering makeup. “Thank you so much for coming! But oh my god, are the rumors true, did you really show up—!” She looks over your shoulder, and grins again. “Jungkook!” She hugs Jungkook. “I should be saying congratulations to the two of you. I was surprised to get the text from Jungkook saying that you guys were coming as each other’s dates. Gave me a whole pain because I had to switch some seats around at the last minute. But anything for my favorite people.” She turns to you and holds onto your arms. “Jungkook has had a crush on you for years, so you’re really doing him a huge favor.”
“Okay, enough,” Jungkook interrupts, scowling. But there is still that playful look in his eyes. “Did all your friends know about this? Jennie knew something was up too when I texted her.”
Irene presses her lips together. “Mingyu might have mentioned something.” She presses her hand to Jungkook’s cheek. “Stay safe, you guys. Hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” She moves onto her next guest.
Jungkook is groaning. “Remind me to never tell Mingyu anything ever again.” He glares at the boy from across the table. “Gonna fling some peanuts at that son of a bitch.”
You laugh, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s waist. “Oh, let him be. It’s Irene’s wedding. You can get him tomorrow.”
Jungkook pouts, but he does wrap his own arm around your shoulder. “Ah, love my girl—promoting evil behavior after festive events.” He kisses your cheek as your table takes their seats once more.
The good natured atmosphere continues as you and Jungkook down your food, remaining fully engaged in the conversations happening around the table. After another hour of this, the DJ announces the start of the married couple’s first dance. Irene and Seokjin take to the dance floor and spin around, her white dress flowing around the room like light. Underneath the glow of the fairy lights, it looks like the couple is in an entirely new world. And you are so taken by it.
Jungkook does not turn to you until the DJ plays a slow song—a first slow song after a series of upbeat dance and pop genres. He jerks his head towards the dance floor. “You want to dance?”
You take his hand when he offers. “Of course.” He leads you across the room, towards the gazebo, where several other couples have moved to cling to one another. Jungkook pulls you in: one hand on your waist and the other with your own hand. “This is really nice,” You start off.
Jungkook laughs. “The wedding, or the dance?”
You smile over at him. “Both. Being able to slow dance with you, however, is marginally better.”
Jungkook is quiet for a little after that. He seems content just staring at your eyes, taking in the magic of this moment. “Thank you for coming with me,” He starts. “The whole road trip thing. Definitely would not have been as fun if I did all that by myself.”
“Well, thank you for inviting me,” You return. “Even though we had that big misunderstanding. I had a lot of fun.”
“Hey.” Jungkook angles his head a little so he can look at you in the eyes. “You know that I would never hurt you, right? You’re too important to me that I wouldn’t even think to pull some stupid shit like that again. You know that I love you too much to do that to you, right?”
“I do know now,” You say, gazing over at him. “And I love you too.”
You’re not usually an expressive person. But it’s worth saying those words just to see the grin that overtakes Jungkook’s face. It’s worth even more when he leans forward, kissing you openly in front of all his friends, nibbling gently at your bottom lip, running his tongue over the wound, and into your mouth. It’s worth it to have his fingers dusting sweetly over your skin, coaxing your mouth to open to allow exploration.
It feels like worlds pass before Jungkook pulls away, giving you that breathless smile dimple and all, before he’s leaning forward to bury his face into your neck.
“I think the drive home will be fun,” Jungkook mutters softly.
“Hm?” You hum, eyes closed as he presses tiny kisses along your neck.
“Most definitely,” Jungkook says, lifting himself just enough so that his lips hover over your ear lobe. “Because I plan on fucking you in every hotel bed for the rest of the trip.”
You feel your heart race, your cheeks heat. Yes, this was definitely worth it.
#jungkook scenarios#jungkook scenario#jungkook fluff#jungkook x y/n#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#bts scenarios#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts imagines#bts angst#traci writes
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Liebeskummer
Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony
Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka)
Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad
Summary: It’s all her fault.
~~~
Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”
“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”
Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”
“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”
His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”
“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”
“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”
She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”
So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.
It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.
It just felt wrong.
“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”
Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”
“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”
“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”
“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”
“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”
“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.
“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”
“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”
“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “
“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”
“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”
“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”
“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”
He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.
Just like (Y/n).
But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.
“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.
“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.
She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.
But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.
It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.
“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”
“And you trust me?”
Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’
“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”
“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”
“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”
“To perform a resurrection?”
“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”
“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.
“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.
“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”
“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”
Depends on who you ask, really.
“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”
A lot of things will get you killed.
Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”
“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”
It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.
No place for someone of realistic standard.
No place for him.
“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”
“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”
“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”
Because maybe it was true.
Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.
There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.
Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.
“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”
“Would you like to learn it someday?”
(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?
“I’d love to.”
~~
“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”
Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”
“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”
Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.
“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”
“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.
“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.
“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”
“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “
“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”
A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.
Sister would adore a friend like her.
Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.
But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.
Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.
The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.
“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”
“Right, yes, I am.”
He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.
As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”
“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”
“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”
“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.
“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”
“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”
“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”
“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”
“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.
And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.
Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.
He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.
She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.
“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”
“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”
“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”
“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”
“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”
I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.
If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.
Then he felt his chest tighten.
“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”
“How do you think it feels?”
“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”
“I see…”
“Kiyo, why do you ask?”
“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”
“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”
“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.
“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”
A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.
So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?
Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.
The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.
Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.
“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”
“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”
“I don’t know about masterpieces…”
“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”
“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”
“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”
“You can draw?”
“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”
“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.
“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”
“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”
“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”
“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”
Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.
She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.
“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.
“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”
“You do?”
“It’s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”
Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”
“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”
As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.
“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”
“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”
Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.
But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.
It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.
She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.
(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.
~~
Oh God, what did this mean again?
Where do the creation myths go?
Who’s Princess Kaguya?
Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.
Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!
Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!
I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?
Anyone.
And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.
(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.
She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!
She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.
But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.
It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.
But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?
She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.
“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.
“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.
Goddammit.
She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”
Understatement of the year.
“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”
“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”
“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”
He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”
“That’s about all I’m good for.”
“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”
“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”
“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”
“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”
“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.
What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?
“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”
“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”
“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”
“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”
“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”
He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”
“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”
His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.
“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”
He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”
“No need to thank me.”
“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”
Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”
~~
Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.
“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”
“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”
He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”
The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”
“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.
He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.
“Thank you.”
She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”
“You as well.”
He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.
That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.
“You never loved me.”
He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.
“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”
Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.
“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”
His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”
“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”
“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”
“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”
“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”
“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”
“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”
“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”
She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.
Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?
(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.
He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.
~~
“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).
“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”
She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.
But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.
And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.
He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.
“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.
(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.
Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.
She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.
As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.
Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.
Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.
Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.
He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”
“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”
Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”
As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.
Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.
There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.
A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.
Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”
No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.
He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.
“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”
“Kiyo…”
“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”
She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”
He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”
Because he did.
“I’ll try.”
But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.
“Thanks again, Shuichi.”
“Just take your time, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
~~
Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.
She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.
What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?
Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.
“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry…”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I’m, uhm, not sure?”
I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.
“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”
My love? My love.
“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”
Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”
“Your medication?”
“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”
“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”
“It’s only medication, dear.”
“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”
“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”
“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”
“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”
“You think that?”
“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”
This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.
He’s wrong.
She should’ve stayed with him that night.
He’s wrong.
She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.
He’s dead.
Because she should’ve stayed.
“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”
Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”
Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.
“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”
“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”
And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.
#korekiyo shinguji x reader#korekiyo x reader#shinguji x reader#drv3 x reader#he deserved so much better :(( i wuv him#let me know if i miss anything with the warnings
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summary: you made taeil’s undead heart soar and he was absolutely addicted to the feeling.
pairing(s): yandere!zombie!moon taeil x reader | kim doyoung x reader
warning(s): swearing, obsessive behaviour, mentions of blood, gore (kind of..?), minor character death, cannibalism, non con (taeil forcefully kisses the reader)
word count: 2.6k words
a/n: this is pretty heavy stuff so if any of the aforementioned content triggers you, do not read. please note that I do not condone taeil’s behaviour and that this is purely a work of fiction. my fic is not an accurate representation of taeil’s actual personality.
part of @127-mile’s addiction collab
emotions were as foreign to moon taeil as brains and human flesh once were. while he doesn’t mind either of them, they were just very hard to come by. that changed when he got a job at the qian family’s mortuary, courtesy of qian kun, a mutual friend. johnny had already explained taeil’s special situation to kun, who agreed to give taeil access to the bodies so long as he worked as kun’s assistant. it was an excellent arrangement for both men - taeil could finally eat some proper food while kun finally had help. for obvious reasons, not many people were willing to work at a morgue, especially for such low wages.
taeil managed to ease himself into a routine of work, brains, sleep then repeat. while many people would eventually go insane from being constantly surrounded by cold, still bodies, taeil couldn’t care less. a zombie couldn’t ask for a better arrangement. while he did not experience emotions, he still felt a semblance of peace.
at least, that was before you showed up, completely unannounced. of course, your arrival wasn’t completely random, kun did warn taeil that his cousin was coming home after getting their phd, but you weren’t what taeil expected. he had this mental image of you being stoic and reserved. he thought you’d briefly acknowledge him with a slight nod while visiting your cousin and that would be it. imagine his surprise when he came to work and was greeted by a smile brighter than the sun. you were like the human embodiment of a meadow of flowers in the summer - warm, wonderful and welcoming. hell, you even smelled like flowers.
suddenly, his daily routine was ruined.
most mornings, you would meet him at the mortuary, looking as fresh as a daisy, and hand him an equally fresh box of baked goods from the bakery next to your clinic. if it was a slow morning, and it usually was, you would make small talk with him while kun went over the day’s plans in his office. he began to cherish those morning conversations with you and his undead heart would sink when the clock struck nine and it was time for you to hug him and kun goodbye. from then on, he was usually in a sour mood for the rest of the day, not humouring the silly jokes kun made as they worked. he would get off work with a dull ache in his heart if you weren’t there to pick kun up or offer to take them out for drinks.
this abrupt change frightened taeil more than anything. why was he suddenly experiencing these strange feelings? he hated it. every day, he was going through a rollercoaster of emotions that would be decided by whether or not he saw his boss’ cousin. it was so absurd. in the past five years of him being a zombie, he hadn’t felt such extreme emotions before. they all felt so...so human.
when he consulted johnny about these strange occurrences, his friend began to howl with laughter, “dude, it’s so obvious!”
taeil glared at johnny, “care to explain what exactly is so obvious?”
“you like y/n. why else would you be constantly pining for them?”
taeil scoffed. johnny must have smoked something because there was no way he liked you. at best, he had known you for three months and it isn’t like you regularly spent time together. plus, you were related to his boss. johnny had no idea what he was talking about, he was full of shit.
“that’s bullshit. I don’t buy it,” taeil shook his head, leaning back in his chair.
“no I swear, it’s true! we drove past this factory and they were just beheading these chickens out in the open,” you sighed. “anyway, the sight was so sickening, I’ve never looked at meat the same way since.”
“yet you decided to be a thoracic surgeon.”
you shrugged, “yeah but operating on people and eating meat are two different things. I don’t mind looking at flesh and blood but the thought of eating any makes me sick.”
taeil silently thanked you as you made that statement. ever since johnny had suggested that taeil liked you, he’d been searching for reasons not to like you. and of course, there’s no way he could like you if you were a vegetarian. you would be absolutely disgusted if you knew what his main diet consisted of. yet, every now and then, he felt his mind drifting away to a different mental list - a list of the things he liked about you.
he liked how you would come up with the most absurd conversation starters, just to make him crack a smile. he liked how your hugs were warm and comfortable. he was even beginning to like the fuzzy feeling that would envelop his heart whenever he was around you. you made him giddy and lovesick and eventually, he didn’t mind anymore. being around you all the time forced him to accept that he had very strong feelings for you. in fact, he was certain that even as a human, he had never had feelings this intense. there was just something special about you that had him feeling some sort of way. normally, he would have been afraid of how you controlled your heart but now? he was in too deep to care.
he decided it was better for him to just accept the fact that he loved you. why try to fight it? it was highly unlikely that he would feel this way about anyone ever again. he had to hold onto you, he would be insane to let you go.
finally, he plucked up the courage to confess to you. he was falling for you more and more every single day, and not being with you was slowly killing him. he decided to surprise you at the clinic where you worked with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. he planned to treat you to lunch at a romantic café then confess to you while walking you back to the clinic. he had rehearsed the little speech he wanted to give over twenty times with johnny, who repeatedly assured him that everything would go well.
it did not go well.
taeil was greeted by a unpleasant surprise when he reached the entrance of the clinic. there you stood, his beloved y/n, in another man’s arms. taeil watched, horrified, as the man placed a soft kiss on your lips. you looked so happy with him and it broke taeil’s heart. he felt awful as he watched you smile at the man. that same wonderful smile that he wished was for his eyes only. it felt like a cruel joke to have your laughter fill his ears as tears pricked his eyes. taeil was glad that nobody was paying attention to him as hot tears stained his cheeks. he couldn’t have gotten away sooner, pushing past the people on the street to go home.
he quickly texted an excuse to kun about how he felt sick and would be gone for the rest of the day. it wasn’t exactly a lie - he did feel sick and every time he thought about you and the stranger, it only got worse. he ripped up the bouquet and the plastic that had been wrapped around their stems, screaming as he did it. pain bled into fury as he destroyed the beautiful flowers. he was unbelievably angry and wouldn’t stop until every last petal had been snatched from the base and scattered on the floor. he was blinded by rage as he made a mess of his apartment floor. finally, the bouquet had been completely ripped apart and tears cleared taeil’s vision.
he dropped to the floor, feeling miserable as he stared at the mess, tears streaking down his face. he loved you so much, but someone had stolen you away. how dare that asshole? you were supposed to be taeil’s, how could he just come between the two of you like that? how incredibly selfish of him. taeil had to get rid of him, as soon as possible. the more time you spend with that jerk, the more he’ll ruin you. taeil scowled at the memory of the two of you kissing. he will pay.
it was decided. taeil was going to make you his, one way or another. whether you liked it or not.
“I hate this, taeil.”
taeil nodded, feigning sympathy as you pouted and continued to complain, “doyoung’s been so busy the past week that he hasn’t been able to call me even once. he just sends brief texts… I really miss him.”
“that sucks, y/n, but you know, it’s a very demanding job.”
“yeah I know…but would it kill him to at least call to say good night?” you sighed, sipping your tea. “whatever. thank you so much for listening to my rant, taeil, I really appreciate it. you’re an awesome friend.”
the word stung, but taeil tried not to show it as he smiled and promised you that he didn’t mind. which was half true. taeil could never get tired of listening to you talk about any topic but one - kim doyoung, your boyfriend. it didn’t really matter, though. soon, taeil would make sure that you would forget all about that piece of shit. soon, moon taeil would be the only thing on your mind, just like how you were the only thing on his min
but first he had to punish you. you deserved it. if you hadn’t gone and dated another man, he wouldn’t have considered such a thing. you needed to be disciplined. you belonged to taeil and he was going to make sure that you remembered that fact. so he sat there in front of you, politely nodding as you vented about your boyfriend, and tried to think of a suitable punishment.
“I know I’m complaining about him a lot, but I really like doyoung,” you laughed. “even though he took me to a barbecue place for our first date.”
that’s when a lightbulb went off in taeil’s brain.
for someone who couldn’t survive without eating brains, taeil sure was an idiot. somehow, he’d gotten roped into a dinner date with you, doyoung and doyoung’s sister, jisoo. at least he managed to convince you to let him host the dinner at his apartment, insisting that he wanted to make a good first impression on jisoo. you’d wiggled your eyebrows and teased him about it but he knew, deep down, setting him up with someone else was hurting you. but you wouldn’t have to worry about hiding your feelings for much longer - taeil would soon relieve you of your misery. ideally of course, he wouldn’t want to start off your relationship with a double date with other people. not to mention your little punishment, but hey, all relationships have their ups and downs.
now if he could just get that pesky little jisoo out of the way.
after briefly stalking doyoung’s instagram account, taeil managed to find jisoo’s account and figured out where she worked. getting her to stay away was easier than he thought it would be. all he had to do was press a small knife against her neck and she was begging for him to leave her alone. he left her trembling in the alley behind her office, with her tears stinging the small cut that ran down the side of her cheek. he wasn’t worried about her telling her brother since that’s who he’d be visiting next.
he had to say, out of all the humans he’d made dishes out of, doyoung was certainly the best. probably because his meat was actually fresh, but you really seemed to enjoy him as well.
“god taeil, your spaghetti is wonderful. I can’t believe doyoung and jisoo are missing out,” you nearly moaned as you devoured your dinner. “these are the best vegan meatballs I’ve ever had. seriously, how’d you make this?”
taeil shrugged, “I used a pretty basic recipe, although I did use something extra special for those meatballs.”
“would you mind sharing what that special thing is, master moon?”
taeil’s smile dropped, his expression completely serious now. you didn’t think much of it, taeil was probably just being dramatic. however his tone as he spoke his next sentence sent a chill down your spine.
“enough dilly-dallying. tell me, sweetheart, did you really think you could get away with dating another man?”
you were too stunned to speak, what the fuck did he just say?
“woah, don’t get shy now. did you seriously think you could go be someone else's whore and I wouldn’t get mad?”
“taeil, what on earth are you talking about?”
you looked like a scared and helpless little rabbit and taeil would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel some type of way. taeil’s predatory gaze burned into your eyes, ensnaring you and refusing to let go. you were confused. why was taeil behaving like this? why was he so angry with you? but you were certain about one thing: tonight was not going to end well for you.
with a gentle voice, you tried to calm him down so the two of you could have a rational conversation but taeil wasn’t having any of it. he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you up to your feet, stepping away from the dining table and pulling you close till your chest brushed against his. suddenly, his steely gaze slightly softened.
“y/n, my love, I hope you know that I didn’t want to do this to you, but you left me no choice. you forced my hand.”
tears were beginning to well up in your eyes. taeil was getting frustrated. you knew exactly what he was talking about yet you were acting as though taeil was speaking in cryptic messages. taeil noticed your tears and tsked, cupping your cheeks. there was no point in you crying now. the deed was done. taeil was hoping you’d learnt your lesson so the two of you could move past this.
“don’t cry, sweetheart. at least, not until you know what I did.”
“but taeil, I don’t even know what I’ve done,” you sniffed lightly.
“darling, I love you. and I know you love me too, you don’t need to say it. but why did you have to go and date doyoung? do you know how much that hurt me?”
you shook your head, “taeil, I really didn’t know how you felt. but I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”
taeil glared and tightened his grip on your jaw, “fucking lies! that dickhead doyoung has brainwashed you. oh my precious y/n, I feel so awful for punishing you the way I did, but how else will I fix you?”
“what do you mean?” you asked, afraid of the answer he was going to give you.
“those vegan meatballs, darling. although I suppose the term ‘doyoung meatballs’ would be more accurate.”
your beautiful features were twisted into a look of pure horror as realisation dawned upon you. taeil couldn’t help but let his lips form a maniacal grin. he was rather proud, even if he did say so himself. doyoung would never be a problem ever again. nor would anyone else be, for that matter. taeil knew that you were his good, obedient little y/n. you wouldn’t dare to hurt him ever again. satisfied, he leaned in and forced you into a kiss. you were too shocked to fight back.
as he pulled away, he pushed the hair out of your face.
“remember to behave yourself, darling.”
#nct 127#nct#moon taeil#nct taeil#nct writings#nct fics#nct angst#nct 127 angst#nct 127 x reader#moon taeil x reader#taeil x reader#taeil angst#yandere!nct#yandere au#zombie au#nct au#yandere!taeil#nct horror
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this is a few days late but it’s still technically Hanukkah, so! here’s a fic about Jon and Martin celebrating Hanukkah in the safehouse (shhh timelines aren’t real) because I like to project and I really like the idea of Jon being Jewish. a lot of us are having weird holidays this year, away from friends and family, so the boys having a weird one too seemed appropriate. in particular, Jon not having a menorah because I don’t have one this year either :(
the stuff in this is based on my own experiences celebrating Hanukkah growing up in a pretty secular household, so if you see anything that’s “wrong” then that’s why, lol. the prayer is accurate as far as I know though, it’s the same one my family and I sing every year.
(also this is not a good representation of how to make rugelach! if you really want a good recipe, hmu and if you ask nicely I might share my mother’s 😁)
enjoy and Happy Hanukkah!! 💙🕎✡️💙
___________
“I just feel bad,” Martin said, watching from the sofa as Jon put the challah in the oven. “You’re doing all this cooking, and I’m just sitting on the couch like a lump. And this is supposed to be your holiday.”
“Martin, for the tenth time, it’s fine. Besides, the holiday doesn’t actually start until sundown,” Jon called, cheerfully enough, from the kitchen. Jon liked cooking, Martin knew, and he didn’t really see it as a chore in the same way Martin did. Still, this was a special day for Jon (well, eight days, really), and Martin wanted to be of some use. He’d offered to do everything from peeling potatoes to rolling matzoh balls, but Jon, ever the control freak in the kitchen, had stopped him at every turn. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about not helping out as Jon bustled about, trying to make Hanukkah dinner for the both of them.
More than helping out, really, Martin just kind of . . . wanted to share this with Jon. The way Jon talked about it, it sounded as though he’d had more Hanukkahs alone than with friends or what little family he had. Martin wanted to make Jon feel like he didn’t have to be alone this year, and even if Martin was new to this, he was game to learn. Jon had already told him about the holiday and all the different foods he was making, but there was still some distance there, a disconnect, that Martin knew Jon wasn’t putting between them on purpose. It seemed to Martin more like a force of habit than anything else.
After setting the timer for the challah, Jon nodded, satisfied, and came over to join Martin on the couch. He slouched against him comfortably, and Martin automatically put an arm around his shoulders. Jon had a bit of flour on his nose, and Martin gently swiped it off, which made Jon’s face wrinkle up like a disgruntled cat. Bloody adorable, Martin thought.
“I get a bit of a break before I have to start on the latkes in a few hours,” Jon said. “Got to make those right before dinner so they’re fresh.”
“Can I please help with those?” Martin said, half-joking.
“Fine,” Jon laughed, “yes, Martin, you can help with the latkes.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“I’m sure.”
“Is there dessert?” Martin asked, offhandedly. He hadn’t noticed Jon getting out any sugar or making anything sweet that day. “Do people eat anything sweet on Hanukkah?”
“Well, there’s gelt,” Jon says. “Chocolate coins. But the grocer’s didn’t have any. Unsurprisingly.”
Martin laughed. “Yeah. Probably not a huge priority in the Highlands.”
“People also make rugelach, sometimes.”
“Arugula?”
Jon laughed, not unkindly. “Rugelach. Different from the vegetable. Very different,” he said. “It’s a pastry. A kind of holiday cookie, I guess you could call it. Sweet dough with chocolate or cinnamon inside. It’s simple to make, but I didn’t buy the right stuff for it, and honestly I have enough cooking to do.”
“Yeah? How d’you make it?” Martin asked, innocently enough, though an idea was brewing.
As Jon explained, he waved his hands in the air, miming the process. “You just roll out some pastry dough, cover it with chocolate or cinnamon or walnuts or whatever you like, cut it into strips, and roll them up.” He thought for a moment. “They look a bit like seashells.”
“Huh,” Martin said. “Seems easy enough.” He’d never made dough before, but how hard could it be, really. The hardest part, he figured, would be actually making the things in their tiny cabin and even tinier kitchen without Jon finding out.
Soon after that, the oven timer started beeping, announcing that the bread was done. Martin took advantage of Jon busying himself in the kitchen to slip out the door, giving him some offhand excuse about wanting to get some air, to which Jon waved him off.
In the baking aisle at the grocer’s, Martin quickly realized he was out of his depth. He stared at the display of flour and sugar and baking powder and all sorts of other stuff, utterly at a loss as to what one needed to make pastry dough. He tried, once again, to Google a recipe on his phone, but once again, there was no service and no wifi.
Well, there was always pre-made, frozen dough. Not ideal, but it’d probably work in a pinch. Much faster to make, too, Martin thought as he dropped a couple cans of it into his basket. The filling, at least, he knew he’d be able to handle; he grabbed a few bags of baking chocolate and a shaker of cinnamon, and brought everything up to the checkout counter.
Martin didn’t even know which lucky stars to thank when he arrived back at the cabin to find the kitchen empty, and Jon passed out on the bed in a post-challah, pre-latke cooking nap. Martin gently closed the bedroom door and immediately set to baking.
Going by Jon’s vague descriptions, he rolled out some of the dough into a flat oval shape, but the pre-made kind wasn’t meant to be used all at once, and the end result was a sort of lumpy mass. Digging around in the cupboards, he was able to find some flour, which helped make the dough less sticky, at least. Eventually, he was able to get it flat enough to cover it with the filling, like Jon had told him. Half of the dough he covered in cinnamon, liberally shaking it out all over the dough. The other half he covered with the baking chocolate, which came in little chunks, but he figured it would melt in the oven just fine.
Next, just as Jon had described, he cut the dough into even strips, thin and rectangular, and rolled each of them up, so the filling made a little spiral shape inside. The chocolate ones were a bit chunky and awkward-looking, but, well, it was the taste that counted, wasn’t it.
Martin turned to face the oven, realizing he had no idea how long they ought to bake for, or at what temperature. He checked the instructions on the tins of pre-made dough, deciding to go by whatever they suggested. It wouldn’t do for the dough to be raw, he figured.
Soon enough, the pastries were in the oven, and Jon was still dead to the world, none the wiser. Martin felt quite satisfied as he cleaned up, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well- and stealthily-done. He’d hide them in the oven, he decided, until after dinner, and then he’d surprise Jon. Smiling, he went to join Jon in bed, curling up next to him as he slept, until he fell asleep himself.
Martin woke groggily several hours later to Jon gently shaking him awake, telling him it was time to make the latkes. He’d already got the batter done, a thick, floury mixture of potato and onion, and a pan of oil was bubbling on the stove. Jon showed Martin how to drop spoonfuls of batter into the pan, patting them down to shape them into little fist-sized “pancakes.” He let both sides brown in the oil until they were nice and crispy, before transferring them onto a paper towel-covered plate to cool. It was simple enough, and Martin was able to finish up the batch as Jon set the table, bringing out the challah and matzoh ball soup he’d made, as well as sour cream and apple sauce to dip the latkes in.
Once the latkes were done (and Martin was quite proud to say they’d come out very nicely), Jon retrieved some red wine he’d gotten in the village and poured them both a glass. Then, as Martin was getting ready to sit down, Jon glanced around sheepishly, gesturing at an empty space on the kitchen counter.
“I, ah, normally I’d have a menorah to light. But obviously I didn’t bring one when we came up. And out here, well, it’s the same as with the gelt. No real place to buy one.”
“Oh,” Martin said, heart sinking. He reached out to squeeze Jon’s hand. “That’s a shame. I’m really sorry.”
“Really, I just wish I could show you,” Jon said, shaking his head as he took his seat at the table. “It’s really lovely. You light a new candle every night, and when they’re all lit . . . I’m sure it’d look nice here, especially.” He gestured at the space in front of the darkened kitchen window.
“Yeah,” Martin agreed, wistfully. He’d seen photos of menorahs before, and he could just picture it, he and Jon gathered around, lighting candle after candle as the eight nights passed.
“Well,” Jon said, turning back to face Martin at the table, “we may not have a menorah, but I can still do the blessing.”
“Blessing?”
“Yes. You’re supposed to do it while lighting the menorah, but, well. I’m sure this will do, given the circumstances.” Jon reached his hand across the table, and Martin took it.
“Alright.” Jon cleared his throat, almost self-consciously, and then began to sing in Hebrew, a melodic, practical tune that sounded comfortable and familiar on his tongue, like a well-worn shawl. “Barukh ata Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav, v’tzivanu, l’hadlik ner, shel Hanukkah.”
Martin couldn’t really sing along to the words, but he nodded along to the melody, and when Jon was done he looked up at him and smiled, and Martin beamed back. They both raised their glasses and drank.
They ate heartily, or at least Martin did, because Jon kept shoving second and third bowls of soup at him, and insisting he finish off the latkes. Not that Martin was complaining, of course; it was all delicious, and Jon did praise him for how nice the latkes had come out.
They left the dirty dishes for later (or, knowing the two of them, tomorrow morning), and after dinner they went straight for presents. Though his options were limited without online shopping or anything outside of the tiny village, Martin had managed to find an adorable little painted china Highland cow in a local antiques shop.
“I know you think they’re cute,” Martin said as Jon lifted it out of the box.
“How did you know,” Jon deadpanned, but he grinned as he brought it up to his nose and stared at its little painted snout. “I love it, Martin, thank you.”
Jon had gone the homemade route, and knitted Martin a scarf. And a pair of mittens. And an entire bloody sweater.
“Oh my god, Jon,” Martin said, staring in disbelief at the mounds of knitwear before him. “How did you find time to do all this? How did you find time to do all this without me knowing?”
Jon looked away sheepishly. “I, uh, I’m a fast knitter.”
Martin shook his head fondly. Unbelievable. But he immediately took off the sweater he’d been wearing and pulled on the one Jon had made. It fit rather well and was as cozy as it looked. “Thank you, Jon,” he said, feeling the sleeves, knowing that every loop and stitch of the fabric had been purposeful. He could practically feel the care and love Jon had put into each one of them. “I love it,” he said, leaning over to kiss Jon at the corner of his eye.
“Well,” Jon said, cheeks darkening, “Happy Holidays, then.”
“Oh,” Martin said, rising from the sofa, “I’ve actually got one more thing. Sort of a last-minute gift.”
“Hm?”
Martin went over to the oven and took out the trays of rugelach. He’d checked them earlier to see if they were cooked through, but hadn’t gotten the chance to taste one yet. “Tried my hand at a bit of dessert,” he said, selecting a couple nice-looking ones and putting them on a plate for Jon to try.
Jon had followed Martin into the kitchen, and was staring at the pastries lined up on the trays. “Oh, well, thank you,” he said, surprised, taking the plate Martin handed to him. “What are they?”
Martin cocked his head at him. “Rugelach,” he said. Wasn’t it obvious?
Jon’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Ah,” he said, voice strained with positivity. “Of course. Right.”
Martin was starting to get a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Gingerly, Jon took one of the rolled-up pastries, and bit into it.
Martin tried one as well. It was one of the chocolate ones, and it was . . . crunchy. Very crunchy. The chocolate, it seemed, had only partially melted in the oven, and the pastry dough itself was a bit hard to bite through. Besides that, it wasn’t very sweet, the chocolate being too dark and the dough being too salty.
He tried a cinnamon one. Again, the dough was crunchy, and the cinnamon was overpowering without any sweetness to it. Martin considered the possibility that perhaps he ought to have added sugar.
Jon, for his part, was doing his best impression of a person who was very much enjoying the pastry they were eating, honest. “Mmm,” he said, demonstratively, as he swallowed one of the cinnamon ones. “Thank you, Martin, these are . . . delicious.”
Jon was actually reaching for seconds, which Martin knew he was only doing to make him feel better, so he reached out a hand and placed it on Jon’s, stopping him short.
Jon looked up at him. Martin shook his head wordlessly. Jon cracked a smile.
“They’re not good,” Martin said, putting them back on the trays one by one.
“Martin--”
“It’s okay,” Martin said, smiling back at him, “I know. They’re rubbish. I didn’t even use a recipe, of course they were gonna turn out--”
“Well,” Jon said, stubbornly, “you tried. It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, Martin, really,” Jon said, bringing up Martin’s hand to kiss the back of it. “It was very sweet of you to put all this effort into it.”
“Next time, I’ll look up a recipe,” Martin said, bringing one of the trays over to the kitchen bin. Jon was quick to assist him.
“There’s seven nights of Hanukkah left,” Jon said, after a moment’s thought. “We can always try again. Tomorrow, we’ll get more ingredients, and I’ll show you how to do it properly. It really is easy, you just need . . . well. Sugar, for one.”
Martin laughed as he tossed the last of the batch away. “Okay. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
“I mean it, though,” Jon said, looking at him fondly. “Thank you. For this, and for the cow, and for sharing the holiday with me. It’s . . . this has been really . . .”
Jon was gesturing in the empty air, struggling for the proper word, but Martin understood well enough. “Yeah,” he said. “And thank you, for sharing it with me.” He pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek.
“Happy Hanukkah, Jon.”
#tma#the magnus archives#jonmartin#martin blackwood#jonathan sims#gwyneth writes#oh shit this is long#it's 2.4k#btw not pictured in their spread is gefilte fish which is a staple in my holiday dinners#but again idk if you could find it in the scottish highlands lmao#not a ton of jews out there i imagine#anyway happy hanukkah yall i love you
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balls fair in love and war
So... this is the fic inspired by the AU in this post. Umm... it's a shambles, I low-key hate parts of it, the ending is rushed, but we're going with it before my laptop dies </3
Ignore any and all medical inaccuracies. I did a bit of research, but a lot of it confused me, so... this is not an accurate representation of a concussion. Like seriously. Also ignore any ethical issues, they're just... it's fine. As usual no proofreading. Umm.... don't ask where Rossi is. I don't know.
Taglist (I guess? I don't actually have one, it's just for this lol): @eldrai @willlemonheadsupremacy @shmaptainhotchnersmain @sarcvstiel @unionjackpillow @katytheinspiredworkaholic (you said you would read it so... is that okay?)
A very big and grateful thank you to @aaron-hotchner187 for giving me a title!! And to everyone else that gave suggestions, you are also much loved <3
Also, the way Hotch acts as a teacher is inspired by the way I think @ellyhotchner will be when they become a teacher <3 and everyone go and tell @whump-town thank you because she: told me about penlights, gave me the easy tiger line and is just overall a good person.
Trigger Warnings: concussions, fear of brain hemorrhages, hospitals, self-blame
read on ao3!
Like most things that went wrong in Aaron Hotchner’s life, his current predicament could be blamed on Emily Prentiss. He would not hear otherwise. And he didn’t think he should be forced to hear otherwise, given he was the one sitting on a hospital bed in a thin gown that did nothing to keep him warm, whilst she got to sit outside with a cup of coffee.
She had, admittedly, looked absolutely horrified when the accident occured, and had spent the whole journey to the hospital apologising again and again. He’s pretty sure she offered up her first-born child to him at some point as a form of penance. As well as her apartment. And he definitely remembers hearing something about grading his papers for him.
So whilst he may not want to be anywhere near her offspring- especially if they’re like her- and whilst he may definitely not want her apartment- he doesn’t care what she says, it is haunted- he will be taking her up on that last offer. Did he feel suitably appeased by her squirming the whole time, and by the fact that she was the one that had to explain to the principal why there were two classes screaming, crying and a teacher on the floor?
Yes, but there was no harm in milking it.
If he’s being completely honest, he felt like he was taking advantage of a hospital bed. He was sure he was fine. Yes, it hurts to move his head and he feels dizzy, and he probably has all the symptoms of a minor concussion, but he just really doesn’t want to be in the hospital.
Besides, he needs to make sure the kids aren't traumatised. It can’t have been easy for them, watching him just fall to the ground and hit his head hard enough for there to be blood. Emily could be traumatised, he didn’t care. But their students? Absolutely not.
He sighs. He wants to hand in his resignation now. Going back is going to be so embarrassing.
“I don’t think you understand. He is my best friend, and if he doesn’t get this blanket, he will- Spencer, what will he do if he doesn’t get this blanket?” A voice says from outside.
Aaron closes his eyes. He wants the ground to swallow him up. Forget returning to school, the next few minutes of his life are going to be even more embarrassing than the time Emily tricked him into being part of the Christmas pantomime. Haley hadn’t been offended, thank goodness, but still. It took him three months to be able to meet her eyes.
“He’ll- he’ll- I can’t even say it, it’s just so upsetting,” Spencer lies.
“Ma’am, sir, if you would let me speak for two seconds. Miss Prentiss said that some of her colleagues would be coming with Mr Hotchner’s things. All I am asking for is proof of identity,” the floor receptionist says.
The apologies immediately start to pour from the mouth of Penelope Garcia, whilst Spencer Reid just takes out both their driver's licences. The receptionist clearly approves, because before Aaron knows what’s happening, he’s being embraced by someone who smells like roses, and his favourite blanket is being draped over him.
“Oh my goodness, you don’t know how grateful I am that you’re alive,” Penelope says.
Aaron gives her a slight smile. Penelope is one of his favourite people, despite all their differences. And he likes to think he’s one of her favourites. He wouldn’t be thinking wrong.
“Penelope, I’m fine. Seriously. This is just a precaution. I promise it isn’t that bad,” he says, even though the light is starting to hurt his eyes.
“Isn’t that bad? I saw you and Emily taking your classes outside, which was weird to begin with because you both have classes that don’t require being outside, what were you doing? And then, I’m watching because the class can be trusted to sketch without my guidance and I’m curious. But then I turn my back for three seconds to help someone, and everyone is screaming, and you’re on the floor, and there’s blood everywhere and- it was scary!” she says.
“I’m so sorry,” Aaron says, for lack of anything else to say.
“I don’t want you to be sorry! I want you to stop getting hurt!” Penelope exclaims, whacking him in the shoulder.
“I don’t want you to be sorry either. It was hilarious to watch, my students were in hysterics,” Spencer adds. Penelope glares.
Aaron isn’t surprised. Him and Spencer get on- they even have shared interests- but they also have some of the same classes. And as a result of the different subjects and ways they teach, it seems to them that it is impossible for their students to like them both.
“So, not that I don’t appreciate it, but why are you here?” He asks.
Spencer and Penelope glance at each other, and Hotch feels like he’s dealing with two students that have tried to set up two of his friends.
“Garcia. Reid,” he says. In the same tone he uses when dealing with two students that have tried to set up two of his friends.
“We thought that if we came, JJ wouldn’t, but uhh-” Spencer starts.
JJ bursts into the room before he can finish. “”Hotch! What happened? I mean, I’ve heard what happened because Strauss came and told me the basics, but still. Why were the two of you in the playground? Are you okay? Let me see that bump on your head. I also brought your lunch in case you were peckish.”
“Well basically-”
“Why does Emily look like she’s about to start crying?” Haley asks, entering.
Everyone but JJ turns and stares at her with a slight look of horror. Aaron slides down the bed slightly, hoping the blanket can cover the furious blush that he just knows stains his cheeks. Him and Haley went on a date once, after he asked her in a moment of impulsivity. It was the worst thing he’d ever done, for both of them.
“Oh come on guys, we’re professionals. JJ asked me to come because apparently, Aaron listens to me? I said he’s just too afraid of me to disobey. Which, I meant as a joke, but you do know that I don’t hate you right? Sure, the date was a disaster, but you do know we can still be friends?”
“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he confesses.
“That’s why I brought her with me. To prove you wrong,” JJ says. “But yes, why is Emily so upset?”
“Because I almost killed my best friend and traumatised our students and I’ve ruined his life and our careers and he can get me fired and press charges, but all I wanted to do was make him laugh, and this is the first place where I’ve felt appreciated, and I’m going to lose it all,” Emily sobs from outside.
“Can you bring her in?” He asks Penelope.
She obliges, and Hotch pats the area next to him. Emily sits beside him, wiping her eyes on the corner of the extra blanket they brought.
“You didn’t almost kill me, it’s a mild concussion at most. Our students have seen worse, and they will be fine. My life is not ruined because you will be doing my grading. I’m not going to get you fired or press charges, and you’re not about to lose any of this. Okay?”
“You always know what to say,” she says.
He ruffles her hair.
“Love you. Platonically,” he tells her.
She gives him a bright smile, and he can feel himself smiling back, less embarrassed about everything.
And then she starts laughing hysterically, and deliberately shoves him, causing him to almost fall out of the bed, only stopped by Haley and Dave each grabbing one of his arms and pushing him back up. Of course, Emily just looks at him like she hasn’t done anything wrong.
“I cannot believe you fell for that. As if I would ever be that upset. Honestly. Haley, maybe I should replace you as drama teacher!”
Haley raises an eyebrow. “Ah yes, because the last time you got others involved in theatre, it ended so well.”
Emily has nothing to say.
Aaron does. He turns and swears in French.
“Naughty boy. Don’t let anyone else hear you. Especially not my class, I told them what that meant after you said it when I stole your stapler and then told you I’d given it to Miss Brooks.”
He pales.
“Speaking of your classes, how did this happen?” Haley asks, clearly sensing the need for a change in topic.
Emily looks at Aaron.
“It was your fault!” he says.
“Well it was your idea!” she counters.
He sighs. “So what happened was…”
Hotch and Emily’s classrooms are next to each other. To Hotch, this is both a blessing and a curse. It means he could keep an eye on her. It also means he had to keep an eye on her. See, Emily isn't irresponsible, and she would never actually endanger her students, but sometimes, she leans towards danger.
How, when she teaches modern languages, is beyond Hotch, but regardless. Strauss had actually hired Emily, not just for her abilities, but because she believed someone needed to keep an eye on Hotch. How the times have changed.
Hotch is on break duty, and he can't see anyone from his class. Which is weird. He tries to keep their lives as stress-free as possible, and he was always willing to help anyone that needs it, but certain assessments could not be avoided. But still, he expects to see at least one of them outside, if only to get a few minutes of fresh air.
Emily smiles at him sympathetically before she walks into her classroom. It is like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. Sympathy from Emily isn't comforting. Not when it was aimed at him. If anything, it just makes him more scared. The last time she had looked at him like that, he had explained how his date with Haley had gone from one disaster to another.
And then she laughed.
So he pushes the door open, stepping back in case something fell on him. It wouldn't have been the first time. But nothing does. So he steps into his classroom, expecting to see his eleventh grade literature class doing something suspicious.
They aren't, and suddenly he understands exactly why Emily had looked at him like that.
Because his class has never looked so upset or defeated. And his heart breaks for all of them. It has been a while since he was fifteen, but he wouldn't ever forget the feeling of helplessness that seemed to define his existence. Nor would he forget how everything felt like too much and not enough.
"What happened?" He asks them gently.
Violet, a quiet girl that always tells him what Miss Prentiss had said about him, burst into tears. One of her friends patted her back, but it's clear they didn't quite know what they were doing. Neither does Hotch, but goddammit, these are his kids. Nobody is going to hurt them.
"Hey, it's okay. Do you want to go somewhere else?" He asks her.
She shakes her head. "I just- I want all of this to be over, but then I don't because it means going to college and leaving here and having to grow up, but I just- I have no fucking idea what I'm doing and it's all too much."
He winces at the use of swear words, because he is still a teacher, but that also means he feels a sense of pride that she's able to voice what it is. Because now, he may not be able to fix the situation, but he can help.
"I know. That's okay. That's normal. And you'll work it out. You know, I almost became a lawyer."
She looks up, her eyes red, but starting to sparkle again. "A lawyer."
"Yep, I almost also applied to the FBI Academy. It was actually Miss Prentiss that talked me out of that one. Well, it wasn't really talking but the true story is a little too… inappropriate for school."
"I can't imagine you doing either of those. You'd get bored as a lawyer, and you would never smile as an FBI agent," Clarissa says.
Hotch blinks.
She shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then she offers him a piece of candyfloss, which he rejects.
He checks his lesson plan. And then his planner. And then the calendar he keeps on his table. Emily always makes fun of him for being so organised, but Spencer admires it, and that makes him feel cool, so he focuses on that instead.
"I have a compromise. We don't need to do a lesson today, we have more than enough time to cover everything because we're already ahead. I let you do whatever you want for the remainder of the lesson- whether that's colouring or crying or dancing. But you have to do it outside. I didn't see any of you at break."
"Really?" Violet asks.
He nods. "Of course."
Everyone cheers, and grabs their bags, clearly ready to not use their brains for a bit. Aaron gives them the most warm smile he can manage, but he can't help the small surge of guilt that accompanies his lack of realisation.
As his class exits, happily chattering away to each other, Emily pokes her head out the door.
"Mr Hotch, what are you doing, and can I join?"
Immediately, all eyes are on him.
"Please?" Violet asks.
Clarissa pulls out the puppy eyes.
Thomas falls to his knees.
"Oh my god, yes fine, okay, just- everyone be quiet before Strauss finds out and shouts at me," he says.
Emily runs back inside, and soon, they're all just milling about and having fun on the playground. It's nice, both for the students, and the teachers, to have a bit of a break from the world, and to spend a few moments away from it all. Some of them are running around, playing a game of tag, some of them are simply sitting around, and a few are colouring.
"Do you still like playing catch?" Emily asks him.
"What?"
"Catch. Remember, you used to play it with Sean all the time when we were in college."
"I mean yeah, I would probably get involved, but I'm not quite sure-"
"Think fast!" She shouts, and she lobs a netball at him.
The last thing he thinks, moments before his head meets the ground with a large amount of force- enough for there to be a small amount of blood- is: how is it always her? Every single time he gets into a situation, it's her that causes it. That has to be statistically impossible. Maybe he should ask Spencer…
"So yeah! And now I'm here!" He shoves Emily, who has the audacity to look offended.
Penelope kisses his forehead. Haley laughs a little, but Reid just blinks like he can't quite believe how stupid his co-workers are.
"Well. From what I've heard, it was a pretty good shot," JJ comments.
Haley turns to her. "From everything we've just been told, that's what you choose to pick out?"
"I'm a gym teacher, can you really blame me?"
Emily mutters something.
"You were what?" Garcia asks.
"I was aiming for his leg," she repeats.
"Emily. I know you teach languages, not biology, but look at me. Head," Hotch says, pointing at the bump he's not going to cover up, "Leg." He points at his ankle.
"It's always lovely when people know their anatomy. Saves me a lot of time," a new voice says.
Hotch turns in the direction of it, ready to make a snarky comment, but whatever words he had thought of die on his lips as he suddenly feels like he's been transported into a medical drama full of unrealistically attractive protagonists.
Because the doctor who has just walked in is the most handsome man he has ever seen. His smile is easy and genuine, and his eyes seem to twinkle with mischief. And his arms, oh god his arms seem like the safest place to exist. Aaron can't help but wonder what it would be like to have those arms wrapped around him-
His cheeks warm. No.
"Hi, I'm Dr Morgan. But you can all call me Derek. I'm here for Aaron Hotchner. Who I am going to assume, is you," he says, looking straight at Hotch.
"I- yes. How did you know?"
Dr Morgan- Derek- somehow smiles even more. "Well, even though there are far too many people in here- did all of you somehow miss the two people at one time sign- you are the only one in a hospital bed wearing a hospital gown, so. I'm no profiler, but it was pretty easy."
If it's even possible, his cheeks flush more. But one word sticks out to him. "Wait, profiler?"
"You got me. Crime procedurals are my guilty pleasure. I always said that if I joined the FBI, I would become a profiler. Obviously, I went down a very different route."
"Obviously. Wait, too many people? Oh god, I'm so, so sorry, if you need them to leave, they can. In fact, I also feel a lot better, so if you would like me to also go, I really, it's no trouble."
Because he is an idiot- there really is no other justification for this- he tries to stand up. And he does. He also gets a few steps in before the world starts spinning and he almost loses his balance. Derek somehow moves fast enough to guide him back to the bed. Aaron tries and fails to ignore how warm he is.
"Thanks," he whispers, slightly breathless. And not just from almost hurting himself again.
"It's not a problem Aaron. Both things. Your friends can stay, we're just doing some simple checks," Derek says.
"Oh everyone calls him Hotch," Penelope says.
"Aaron is fine. Really." Because he likes Derek calling him Aaron. He wants Derek to call him Aaron.
And then he meets Emily's eyes and he realises his mistake. There's a common denominator that exists with everyone that he tells to call him Aaron, and he knows that she knows what it is. He's fucked.
"Okay then. Well, can you explain to me what happened?"
Aaron is mesmerised by Derek's eyes. So mesmerised that he forgets to answer. "Sorry, what?"
There's a flash of concern, replaced by a smile. "Can you tell me how you ended up here?"
"Oh yes. So, I'm a teacher- so is everyone here. And I- I was outside, with my- my students when Emily- that one there- she, look, it's a really mild concussion, can I just be discharged? I'm sure my students are very, uhh, very scared," he stutters. Why can he never function when he likes someone? It's mortifying.
"I'm sure it is, but you can't blame me for doing my job. I'm going to take your heart rate now, okay? The stethoscope will be cold, but it'll warm up eventually," Derek says.
Aaron nods, and barely flinches when it touches him. If anything, he's more concerned by how close Derek seems to be. Not in a malicious way, but he's always had this deeply irrational fear that if someone got too close to him, they'd be able to read his thoughts. Which would mean Derek can hear both the fact that he has a crush and that he has this fear.
Derek pulls away, and Aaron exhales.
"Your heart rate is unusually fast. Normally that wouldn't be too concerning, because we expect that when patients seem anxious, but you've seemed pretty calm, up till this moment," Derek says, noting how Aaron tenses.
"Is he going to be okay?" Penelope asks.
Derek turns to her. "Of course he is. He's in good hands."
Aaron needs to get his mind out the gutter before his cheeks explode. Or before Emily opens her mouth.
"Aaron, I know you think the concussion is mild, but this is still a requirement. I'm going to turn on this penlight, and I'm going to ask you to follow it with your eyes okay? Follow the light," Derek explains.
He nods, and Derek turns the penlight on. Aaron flinches at the brightness of it, then tenses in slight fear that his lovely doctor is going to be annoyed at him or call him difficult, or sigh and say he needs to stop acting like a child. It wouldn't be the first time,
But Derek doesn't do any of those things. He does something very different.
He places his hand on Aaron's thigh. "Easy tiger. I won't hurt you," he says.
Aaron melts. His eyes drop down to where Derek's hand is warming his skin. He thinks Derek says his name, but he's too busy having a crush to hear him. And then suddenly, his thigh is cold, but Derek is touching his shoulder and he should be shying away from the light being shone in his eyes. But he isn't because he's too busy looking at Derek and his beautiful eyes to even pay attention.
Rather late, he remembers that there is a reason for Derek to be looking at him the way he is, and he tries to follow the light. But the headache he's had since he came around is only getting worse, and the light isn't helping.
Derek isn't smiling anymore.
"Aaron. Be very honest with me. You've displayed difficulty with coordination, memory and speech. If I asked you whether or not you felt sick or nauseous, what would your answer be?"
Normally, he would just under exaggerate, but Derek seems to genuinely care. So he chooses to be honest.
"Yes?"
Derek's eyes widen. "Aaron, I don't want to alarm you, but I like to keep my patients informed. You're going to have a CT scan done immediately, and there's a chance you may be rushed into emergency surgery."
Everyone, including Emily, starts to panic, but Derek leaves the room to grab a nurse to help, and to tell someone else to make sure there's a clear room. Aaron isn't completely sure what's happening, but his head is killing him, so he lays down again. It only helps a small amount.
For Aaron, the CT scan isn't too bad. If he knew the reason it was being done, and that it wasn't a routine procedure, he would probably have spent the whole time panicking. But he doesn't, and so he sits there- well lies there- with a slight smile on his face. The migraine he's had has been getting worse, so keeping his eyes closed for such an extended period of time is actually quite enjoyable.
It is far less enjoyable for everyone that is upstairs, waiting to find out whether or not their friend has a brain hemorrhage. That's what Derek told them after Aaron was carted away, still seeming very out of it. They needed to test him for a brain bleed. And if he had one, then it would just be a case of waiting to see whether they could treat him. And even if they could treat him, it wasn't guaranteed that he would get back to normal.
Emily, in spite of all of her teasing comments, isn't coping. Because it's still early, the floor is relatively quiet, and Derek is technically on his lunch break, so he's sitting with them in an attempt to provide them with some sort of comfort. He's not sure where this emotional attachment to these random people has come from, but it's formed itself and now he's determined to provide some comfort.
"I really was aiming for his leg," Emily whispers.
"Hmm?" Derek asks, not quite following.
"When I threw the ball, I really was aiming for his leg. He had lost consciousness by this point, but I started crying when he hit the ground. He forgave me. He told me he loved me, platonically that is, and I laughed at him. He's going to die, and he isn't going to know how much he meant to me."
"He's not going to die. He may not even have a brain bleed. But if he does, we're going to save him, and you're going to be able to spend the rest of your life telling him how much he means to you. I promise," Derek says.
Even though there are tears in her eyes, Emily turns to him and smiles. "You're a good man, Dr Morgan."
"That's all I've ever wanted, Miss Prentiss. So thank you. It means a lot to me." And it does. He replays the moment as he goes over to Spencer and Penelope, who he feels a strange sense of protection over. Like he needs to protect them from everything, which is weird, because once Aaron is discharged, he'll probably never see them again.
That shouldn't make him sad, but it does.
"Mr Hotchner's CT scan came back normal. There's no sign of a brain bleed," the nurse tells them, what feels like a lifetime later.
There's a collective sigh of relief, and when he's wheeled back in, looking tired but alive, Emily throws her arms around her best friend, who lets out a soft sound of surprise. Like he's not quite used to the fact that people love him. Derek smiles. His patient will be in good hands when he gets discharged.
"Wait, so what caused all of those problems?" Spencer asks.
The nurse shrugs. "It's probably as simple as: his concussion was more severe than we initially thought, but not as bad as we feared."
"Oh."
"And on that note, Aaron, we're keeping you overnight for observation. It's just to be safe. We can't be too careful. You gave everyone a very big scare when you got sent out," Derek says.
Aaron cannot, and will not, confess. Does he feel guilty? Yes. But he can live with the guilt. He cannot live with the all-encompassing shame that will come with explaining that actually, the reason he was stuttering and failing the penlight test was because of a silly little crush.
"Okay," he says, determined to be as compliant as possible.
"One- and only one- of you is welcome to stay with him, if you'd like," Derek adds.
Haley's eyes light up. "I'll do it! Jessica can bring me my things, and maybe you'll be able to look at me after we've spent another night together. Only this time, nobody's getting pneumonia. I hope so, at least. You're not cold are you?"
Aaron shakes his head. "But you really don't need to stay. I'll be fine on my own. Seriously."
"I know, but I want to. Believe it or not, I do actually enjoy your company."
He smiles.
"We should all be getting a move on. Jason and Erin will want updates, and I have lots of marking," JJ says. She kisses Hotch on the forehead before walking to the door, smiling at Derek for looking after her friend so well.
Spencer waves from where he's standing and Penelope showers him with affection. Emily is the only one that seems hesitant to leave.
"Can I stay till visiting hours end?" She asks.
"Do you feel like you can keep up with these two lovely ladies Aaron?" Derek asks.
Aaron has never enjoyed the sound of his name as much as he does when it comes from the doctor. "I- sure," he stutters, and he just knows his cheeks are a stupid colour. Emily frowns, as though she finds something suspicious.
Derek smiles. "Good man. I'll be back in a few hours to run the same tests as before. For now, take it easy."
Derek doesn't come back a few hours later, because he has other patients. It's a different doctor, and Aaron is both relieved and disappointed. Because on the one hand, he's not going to create another medical crisis, on the other, he wants to see Derek again.
Maybe he can get Emily to knock him out again…
"Your heart rate seems completely normal. And you followed the penlight exceptionally well, so I believe we have nothing to fear. Of course, you'll stay overnight, and we'll run these tests once more before you're discharged tomorrow, but I think we're out of the woods now," they say.
Emily gasps, and Aaron knows he's screwed. Luckily, both the doctor and Haley seem to not have heard, and she leaves with the doctor, so Aaron doesn't have to know right at that moment whether his suspicions are correct.
"Night Hotchner," Haley says a few minutes later.
Hotch is already asleep.
The entire team comes and collects him from the hospital.
Aaron is just grateful they're sending him home with a pack of all the things he now needs to do, because he spent the whole lecture admiring how handsome Derek looks with sun shining down on him that he didn't take any of it in. It's also Derek's signature on the discharge papers. He's reminded of high school, when he and his friends would make fake marriage certificates. Not that he's going to do that.
"Bye Aaron. I don't want to see you here any time soon, okay?" Derek teases.
"I won't make any promises," he replies, just relieved he does it without stuttering or blushing.
Derek smiles, and the twinkle in his eyes seems even more mischievous. "Miss Prentiss," he says, spotting Emily.
"Dr Morgan," she responds. She's smirking.
When Aaron asks her what was going on, she doesn't answer. Haley says it's probably linked to the emotions of the previous day, and she's usually good at reading these situations, so he doesn't push any further. Besides, he's too busy catching up with the meetings he missed, and the antics of his students, because a lot happened in the three days he was off, to give it much thought.
Two weeks pass, and the incident is almost completely forgotten.
But then he walks back into his classroom, having just finished a meeting, and he finds flowers on his desk. Tulips. His favourite. He immediately pulls the note out, and when he opens it, he almost wonders if he's concussed it.
Because he knows that signature. He's been staring at it for fourteen days. It's Derek's.
"Surprise. Aaron," a voice says for the doorway.
"How- what- I- what?"
Derek Morgan, still in scrubs and a white coat, smiles at him. "Want to pick a question I can actually answer?"
"How did you- what are you doing here? And why?"
"Well, you should thank Emily. After the other doctor took your heart rate, she came and told me her suspicion. Apparently, you always say you're Hotch. Even the students call you Mr Hotch. Which is strange, because I call you Aaron. And, you shouldn't have done the penlight flawlessly if you had a more severe concussion. So she thinks you have a crush. I didn't want to be unethical, so those flowers can simply mean: I hope you're coping. If you don't have a crush that is."
"What if I do?" Aaron asks, surprised at his own boldness.
"Then I would ask if I could kiss you before I take you out to dinner," Derek says, not missing a beat.
"And if I said yes?"
Derek takes three long strides, and he kisses Aaron like it's something he was made to do. Aaron melts against him, trying to memorise him as quickly as he can, before he realises he has all the time in the world to do that. Because Derek is going to take him out to dinner. Derek, who brought him flowers.
"That was- wow. Wait. You have a crush on me too!" Aaron exclaims with a grin.
"Of course I do," Derek says.
That stuns Aaron back into silence. "Wow," he whispers to himself.
Derek hugs him, and being in his arms is everything- no more- than Aaron imagined it to be. "I'm glad you're okay," he says.
"I'm glad you don't hate me," Aaron says, because he really doesn't know what else to say.
Derek laughs, and Aaron can't wait to find all the ways he can make that happen.
"We should say thank you to Emily at some point. If she didn't know you as well as she does, she wouldn't have realised you had a crush. And if she wasn't so terrifying when she wants something good for her friends, I wouldn't have sent the flowers."
"Can we say thank you later? I want to stay like this for a few moments," Aaron whispers, snuggling closer to his new boyfriend.
"Of course we can," Derek says, kissing his forehead.
When they eventually make it to Derek's car- Aaron can come back tomorrow and get his, it'll be fine, Aaron realises he has one more thing to say.
"Derek?"
"Yes, sweetness?"
Well. That makes him feel things he won't confess too, because he needs something to make him seem the slightest bit cool.
"I'm really sorry I made you think I had a brain hemorrhage."
Derek's laughter is so real that Aaron can't help but join in, and they end up not starting the car for five minutes because it would be irresponsible to drive in that state. And it's only when they're pulling out that they both realise something: Derek gets to see Aaron's family again, and Emily didn't need to hit him in the head again for him to get to see Derek again.
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#hotchgan#mortch#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#tw concussion#tw brain hemorrhages#tw hospitals#tw self blame
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Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!
First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)
But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.
So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.
Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.
Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.
It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)
It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"
They all got a good laugh out of that one.
But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.
They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.
There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...
Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.
With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.
Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.
On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.
Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.
Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.
Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.
In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.
The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.
It suits Catra, though.
"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."
"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."
"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"
Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."
Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.
"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"
Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.
"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."
"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."
They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...
They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.
When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."
'I like making music with you.'
Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.
"I'd like that."
Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.
The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.
It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.
Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.
She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."
Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"
Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."
"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"
Adora's shoulders slump.
"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"
Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"
"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."
Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.
"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."
Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"
Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."
"Good. Now let's get you rung up."
Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.
Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.
With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--
Her breath catches.
Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.
Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...
Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.
Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.
It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...
Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.
But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.
She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."
Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."
"Well no shit. C'mere."
When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."
Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"
Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"
"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."
There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.
"Okay."
Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.
"Why the claw marks?"
Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."
"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"
"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."
"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."
Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.
Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"
"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"
Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"
"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"
"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."
Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."
Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."
Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.
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Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!
#answers#rhythm & blues#the catradora rockstar au#featuring adora's big gay realization#and also fantasy christmas
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TGF Thoughts-- 5x07: And the fight had a detente...
This episode is a wild ride, so if you haven’t seen it yet and you aren’t spoiled, don’t read this. Just go watch it.
Ave Maria plays over a photo montage of cancelled men, including Kevin Spacey, Louie CK, and Scott Rudin. (Scott Rudin, if you don’t know the name, is a Broadway/Hollywood producer who treated his assistants like absolute shit. He’s the inspiration for the possessed producer episode of Evil—I think it’s the third episode of the series—and Robert King does not like him one bit.)
And then the episode opens with Wackner, Del, and Cord discussing the Armie Hammer cannibalism ordeal. Whew, this is not what I wanted to be thinking about first thing on a Thursday morning. I do not think I can put into words how boring I find debating whether or not someone should have been “cancelled.” Cancellation is usually about rich people facing consequences for shitty actions, and those consequences have never involved anyone’s rights being infringed upon, so why should I care about someone being cancelled? And, while I know that society/people on Twitter don’t always understand nuance, I’d like to think that when it comes to the most notable examples of cancellation... no one is losing their livelihood over false or minor allegations.
There are so, so, so many issues in the world. Cancellation affects a handful of high profile, usually white, straight, male, celebrities. Why should I give a shit about, like, Louie CK not being able to make as much money as he used to? I just do not and cannot find it interesting.
I’m not surprised David Cord and Del Cooper find this topic interesting—Del likely hates worrying that all of his comedians could get cancelled and put him in a financially tricky spot; Cord probably says things like “Woke Mob” unironically. And as for Wackner, he almost certainly has a skewed understanding of what actually happens when someone’s cancelled and sees a place where he can step in and add some order. Blah. It’s just so boring.
"People are getting canceled without a trial, no evidence presented against them,” Wackner says. This is not it, Wackner! This is such a strawman argument. We don’t need the legal system to adjudicate people being assholes to each other, and in cases where a crime is committed or a particular individual can sue for damages, that is what happens. If you act shitty and then your sponsors realize you’re toxic and drop you, like, it is what it is. You can feel free to respond via a Notes App screenshot where half of your apology is actually just whining about cancel culture and then you say “I’m sorry if anyone took offense at what I did” instead of saying “I’m sorry I said/did hurtful things” and when people don’t take that seriously, maybe it’s because you didn’t take it seriously, either.
“There are a lot of reasons these accusations never go to trial. The victims finally get to accuse the victimizer face to face,” Wackner explains. Were the victims asking for this?
Marissa shares my question, noting that if the victims don’t want to speak up, then the victimizer would have the court to himself. This raises a new question: who is even bringing these cases? Are Wackner, Cord, and Del just deciding they want to do things as cases and then getting everyone else on board? This sounds bad!
Apparently, according to Wackner, “if #MeToo relies on mob rule, it’ll exhaust itself.” What... evidence is there for this? I get why people panic about the POSSIBILITY of this happening, even though I don’t share their panic, but is there any actual evidence that #MeToo is losing steam because of false allegations because cancellation isn’t a formal process? I don’t believe there is.
The test case we have the pleasure of seeing this week is about “Louie CK two,” whom I shall refer to as LCK2 instead of learning his name.
Now, suddenly, Marissa is asking one of LCK2’s victims to testify. She doesn’t want to participate because it’s just another way for LCK2 to get his career back. Marissa decides to be idealistic and say this is a real opportunity to confront LCK2 with his crime. I suppose she isn’t wrong, and that is what happens next, but, again, meh.
Apparently David Cord is going to defend LCK2. You know what would get cancelled in five seconds? A David Cord funded show that has David Cord actually on it, railing against cancel culture! Can you IMAGINE the thinkpieces?
God, when is this episode going to move on from this extremely irritating premise?
Marissa decides she wants to be the prosecutor. Wackner says if she prosecutes LCK2, she has to prosecute the academic who used a word that sounds like the n-word and lost her job for it. Marissa thinks the academic shouldn’t have been fired, but Wackner insists she has to take both cases.
“Let’s go into court,” Wackner says, and, thank goodness, we do go into court: REAL court, where we are talking about REAL issues.
In court, Liz and Diane are suing the police over the death of a black girl who was tased by the police. Her friend is on the stand and it’s quite emotional. Also, Diane tries to pass Liz a note and Liz ignores it. Why would you have two name partners on this case if they aren’t even going to try to work together?
You can tell things are tense between two TGF characters when they talk at the same time in court but are on the same side.
Hiiiiii Abernathy! ILY!
The victim had a heart condition, which the police lawyer argues is the actual cause of death. Police lawyer also argues that since this witness posted some ACAB lyrics on Instagram, she must be biased. Eyeroll.
Liz calls the other lawyer racist; the other lawyer tries to make Liz look like she is only on her client’s side because she’s black and that Liz is being absurd.
Cancel culture court happens. We’re dealing with the academic case first. I don’t feel like talking about the cancel culture shit too much, so here is my take on this case as a whole: (1) I don’t think the actual word in question, which isn’t actually the n-word, is enough on its own to get someone fired (2) I also don’t think anyone can use that word, regardless of its meaning or history, without understanding how it will come across. (3) The teacher did not get fired for simply using this word once (4) This teacher believes that anyone who is from a group that’s been marginalized in history should have to confront that marginalization with as little sympathy and respect as possible because it will help them be more resilient. So basically, if you are from the dominant group then you don’t get challenged. She believes it is her job to do this. She is an egotistical asshole who has no business teaching.
Cord wants everyone to have to say the full word in question. He says this pretentiously (though I don’t think saying “Said word” is that pretentious, tbh) and Wackner rules against him and also makes him wear a powdered wig for using “obtuse language.”
Marissa is not trying at all with this case at first, since she doesn’t believe in it. That’s shitty, Marissa. If you want to be a lawyer at a firm like RL you’re going to have to fight for all of your clients.
Marissa makes a Latin joke and ends up in a powdered wig, too.
The prof says, in one sentence, that she didn’t know what she was doing using the word and also that the black student who took offense thinks college is supposed to be warm, cuddly, and unchallenging. So it was a challenge, then, prof?
I like this student. And I love that she calls Marissa out for obviously not trying.
“The optics matter. Racially,” Diane says to Liz, who agrees. Diane, strategically, makes it about gender first (the cop is male, some jurors may react to a woman questioning a man), then makes it about how she should be the one questioning the cop since Liz is black. It would make the jury more “comfortable” (hey, there’s that word again!) Diane says. She says she is being pragmatic.
Diane says that she could be “more dispassionate”. Be or come across as, Diane? Either way, Liz, who knows full well what the optics look like given that this isn’t her first time in court, doesn’t agree with Diane that they need to come across as dispassionate.
Then Diane just changes the subject to the firm drama. “Liz, you’re shoving me out of my name partner position because of my race.” Like that’s the issue!
“I am doing nothing. You are the one who got our racist clients to whine to STR Laurie about us,” Liz counters. “Those clients bring in a great deal of money, and they are not racists,” Diane insists. Yes. Sure. Diane just happened to choose white male clients who were “comfortable” with her to talk to. I have no doubt they’d have reacted poorly to any change in representation, but Diane was counting on those particular clients having some discomfort with their new lawyers.
Liz calls her out and Diane’s still trying to play it like she just had to inform her long-term clients and it just had to be done this way. But, when Liz asks if Diane thinks the clients would’ve had the same reaction if their new representation were to be white, Diane says that maybe her clients are worried about racial grudges. So, what you’re saying is you knew exactly what you were doing, huh, Diane?
I get why Diane doesn’t like being pushed out, because who would, but Diane, this isn’t about you. And if you didn’t want to make it about race, perhaps you shouldn’t have appeared on a panel about how great it is that your firm is majority black? You can’t have it both ways.
Liz notes that Diane felt “entitled” to her name partnership. This is accurate, though based on revenue and stature I don’t think it can be denied that Diane deserves name partner status (generally speaking). Diane went over to RBK, was like, “sure, I’ll be a junior partner, thank you so much for the opportunity, I can’t even pay my capital contribution right now but what if I were name partner in three months?” and that is both entitlement and knowing one’s own worth, but mostly entitlement.
(Liz does not act entitled, but if we want to get into who deserves their partnership more—again generally speaking, not their partnership at a black firm specifically—it is definitely Diane! Liz literally only has this job because her dad was important.)
“I think that Barbara Kolstad was shoved out because you felt entitled to her position,” Liz shouts. OMG, a mention of Barbara?!?!?!??!?!? THANK YOU, WRITERS!!!
(This is a slight bit of revisionist history but I’ll allow it, and I think it’s right in thought even if it’s not right on the details. Barbara wasn’t shoved out—Barbara chose to go to a different firm that offered her a better deal—but I don’t think Barbara would’ve been on that trajectory had it not been for Diane’s presence at the firm. Barbara was in charge of a firm that shared her values when, suddenly, her partner decided that they needed to pursue profit over all else and needed Diane to execute that strategy. Maybe no one made a move directly against her, but Adrian and Diane changed the mission of RBK until it was no longer somewhere Barbara wanted to work.
“We can’t work together if you don’t respect me,” Diane screams at Liz. “No, we can’t work together if you use race cynically,” Liz responds. Diane gets even angrier, swears a bunch, and then says “You want to come after me, you come after me with an honest argument about my lack of competence, my lack of worth.” Diane, you are fighting a completely different battle here! You can be entitled and also correct and also good at your job. This is what you used to accuse Alicia of all the time. The fact you’ve turned this into something about your skill level when it’s about the meaning of having a black firm is only proving Liz’s point.
“Your unworthiness—which you don’t seem to want to acknowledge—is that you can’t be the top dog in a black firm,” Liz says. Exactly. But Diane just storms off.
Now the cop is on the stand. He did not know the victim had a heart condition. Uh, obviously, why would he have known that?
Liz is aggressive in court; Diane thinks this is the wrong strategy. Without knowing who is on the jury, I have no idea which one of them is correct.
The next move is to get the cop’s ex-wife, who he abused, on the stand.
Goodie, it’s cancel culture court. Things go well for Marissa, but Del wants to know why Marissa wasn’t that passionate about the n-word case. Marissa says she feels like it’s not the n-word, like that is a valid reason to not represent your client to the best of your ability. “It is. It always is,” says Del.
Marissa heads back to RL, and as she walks, the camera follows her and moves through the space until we end up in Liz’s office, where she gets a news alert about the cop from the COTW. He’s been killed, seemingly in retaliation for his actions. The news is quick to suggest the trial might’ve encouraged the killing. “Oh, fuck.” Diane says as she watches the news. Aaaand credits (at 20 minutes in!)
From the promos, I thought this was going to be a Very Serious Episode about police brutality. From the opening, I thought it was going to be an insufferable episode about cancel culture. I was wrong! (Though, I suppose, some of the cancel culture stuff is still insufferable.)
Yay for Carrie Preston, who directed this episode. I read an interview with her and she talked about how there’s a “look book” for directing TGF episodes and I have never wanted to see anything as badly as I want to see this look book. (Am I exaggerating? Probably. But I might not be.)
After credits, Marissa finds Carmen and Jay to ask them if “n-word-ly" is offensive. She acknowledges she’s being annoying but they let her continue anyway. Jay finds it offensive. Carmen does not. This seems fitting with their characters, and I love that this scene acknowledges that not every black person is going to have the exact same reaction to everything.
I want Carmen to have more to do! While I’m glad the show isn’t forcing her to have a large role in every plot just because, I feel like she’s gone missing for the middle part of the season. My guess is that their priority with Carmen is setting her up to be an ongoing part of the cast who grows into being someone we want a lot from rather than forcing her plots from the start... but surely we could get a little more of her! I doubt she’s a one-season character like I assume Wackner will be.
The cop’s murder changes the vibe in court. Abernathy calls a moment of silence in his memory. “We’re fucked,” Liz whispers to Diane.
And indeed they are. The cop’s ex no longer wants to talk about how abusive he was—she wants to talk about how great he was. Whose idea was it to still put her on the stand?! Idk about legal procedures but this seems like a really avoidable mistake!
Diane argues that the cop’s death has prejudiced the jury. Abernathy decides to call a “voir dire de novo,” using an obtuse Latin phrase that would not be permitted in Wackner’s court. (Love the little parallels in this episode, like this, the transition between courts earlier, and how much of Marissa being called out on her whiteness feels like a thematic extension of everything going on with Diane.)
Cancel culture court continues. Carmen shows up.
I don’t really get how June, the victim of LCK2, potentially losing a headlining gig for a bad set instead of retaliation from LCK2, scores him a point. One, if she was a rising store, one bad set shouldn’t have damned her career. Two, isn’t it enough to prove that he masturbated in front of women who didn’t want him to do that???????
Having June perform her act with no prep in Wackner’s court so they can judge whether or not she is funny is a wildly bad idea. So now Wackner is an arbiter of humor as well as cancel culture?
This whole system is silly and I reject the whole premise but June should not lose two points for the logic that Wackner + the audience don’t find June funny --> June must’ve had her career derailed because she just isn’t funny (how’d she book the headliner gig, then?) --> LCK2 scores points??? He still masturbated in front of her without her consent!
Using cancel culture to show Wackner’s court is going too far/slipping into bad territory: I’m on board with this. Using Wackner’s court to actually comment on cancel culture: Ugh. The writers seem to be trying to do both.
Lol at Abernathy having Stacey Abrams’ book on his desk.
Marissa argues the n-word case more passionately, because these writers love to make situations that seemed clear cut seem more uncertain. It’s no coincidence they have the sexual harassment case look murkier (though, again, June being bad at comedy does not negate the sexual harassment!) right before they have the n-work case begin to tilt in favor of the professor’s cancellation.
Hahah what bullshit about trying to prepare the students for a world that won’t be kind to them. Do you seriously think your black students need YOU to prepare them?
This lady thinks history classes have to describe rapes in detail to get students to sympathize. No, no they fucking do not.
She also says she’d use the n-word if she were teaching a topic where it might come up. Um, no?
Mr. Elk (this is what I call Ted Willoughby, Idiot Reporter, after he said “things of that elk” in his first appearance) is attacking Diane and Liz on his show. Diane and Liz are, apparently, “Marxist slip-and-fall lawyers” and Mr. Elk plays a clip of Diane saying cops need to be held accountable. Obviously, this was before the cop’s death and meant to be about the legal system, but it looks like Diane’s calling for his murder. I also love how they go out of their way to only pause the clip on unflattering frames of Diane.
Liz wants to use this in court—I forgot that Liz is super sneaky but this tracks; she is always quick to use things to her advantage and we’ve known that about her since her strategy with the DNC in 2x07 (to make outlandish allegations and then drop them before presenting proof). Julius wants to get Liz and Diane security.
That security is, apparently Jay. I think they’ve shown Jay as security before when Lucca went viral. I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand it now.
I was, briefly, worried for Liz and Diane’s safety, especially after I saw all the angry cops waiting for them in court. Then I thought, oh, well at least they’re in court, they should be safe from being shot there. Then I remembered 5x15. Then I laughed at myself.
Liz’s new strategy works and Abernathy uses more Latin. But, they can’t get any more jurors thrown. (They’re going for a mistrial.)
Oh, Carmen is back again! She did SO MUCH in that court scene where she appeared and then disappeared! She’s chatting with Marissa and spots LCK2 in the RL offices.
Apparently, LCK2 negotiated a contract with Del, with David Lee’s help. (Why would David Lee be doing entertainment law?) Suddenly everything makes sense to Marissa.
She calls Del to the stand. This—and, honestly, everything after this—makes me wonder how much of this would ever make it to air. Why would Del televise this?
What a shock—Del wants LCK2 back on his streaming service (which I don’t think has a name LOL).
Somehow Marissa’s questions become about Wackner and whether or not Wackner is an impartial judge, which doesn’t seem like the core issue. Wackner has made it pretty clear that his stance is that he doesn’t care if others are corrupt around him or try to use him; he’s going to be impartial no matter what. Why not play that up instead of making the entire show look staged and Wackner look complicit, Marissa?
Like, why is Marissa asking Wackner if he’s prejudged the case?! Why isn’t she just trying to like, get him to declare a mistrial because there is a conflict of interest? She can make a version of this argument without accusing Wackner of PREJUDGING, which she knows—I know, so she knows—will set him off. Wackner truly believe he thinks he is impartial. It’s not smart strategy to question that (even if we all know that Wackner is not impartial!)
Wackner blows up at Marissa and shouts at her. He tells her to get the fuck out of court.
This is certainly dramatic, but again, would Del ever choose to air this? I doubt it.
On her way to work, Diane notices hot pink spray paint in the elevator. When she exits the elevator, the whole firm is gathered in the lobby. Someone has painted COP KILLERS across the elevator bank. “Security doesn’t know how they got in,” Jay says. “Of course they don’t,” Diane responds. “They suggest we call the cops,” Jay says. I love this little exchange. I wasn’t exactly wondering how someone got in, but I like the show making it clear how unprotected Diane and Liz are right now and why.
Julius appears and says that Mr. Elk is saying something new. Diane and Liz sit down to watch and the tone of this episode completely shifts.
I had forgotten completely that Liz’s dad’s assault issues are out in public until Mr. Elk called him “a disgraced civil rights leader.” It doesn’t feel like they’re out in public! Also I would believe Mr. Elk calling him disgraced for no reason at all.
Y’all, when Mr. Elk said the name “Duke Roscoe,” my jaw dropped. WHAT A CALLBACK.
This scene, and really, everything in this plot from here on out, is a delight. It just keeps going and going. It is the best kind of fanservice.
1x11 has been, for no real reason, on my mind since 5x04. It popped out to me as an example of this show’s humor so I talked about it in that recap. I nearly mentioned it in my 5x06 recap when Diane laughed at Julius’s suggestion that they start a firm together. I rewatched 1x11, by complete chance, like two weeks ago. How weird that I'm somehow on the show’s wavelength about this!
Also I made a joke about Mr. Elk last week without knowing he’d be back this episode. I would like to think I conjured this.
(1x11 is a really pivotal episode for TGW, even if it isn’t one of the most notable episodes overall. It's composer David Buckley’s first episode and that ending, with Diane laughing, is one of the earliest moments of TGW showing its sense of humor and playing to its strengths.)
Mr. Elk notes that they “rarely see” Kurt, which is apparently evidence that Diane is a lesbian. Hahahahahahah. Mr. Elk also wouldn’t want to note Kurt, despite his recent controversy, because to his viewers, Kurt’s beliefs would make Diane seem more sympathetic.
GUYS, THE WRITERS DECIDED TO MAKE A CALLBACK TO AN ICONIC MOMENT FROM AN EPISODE THAT AIRED OVER A DECADE AGO AND THEN BUILD ON IT. I cannot express how fucking happy this makes me.
Now, Mr. Elk says, Diane and Liz are an item!
What’s better than Diane laughing hysterically at the original allegations? Diane doing it again, eleven years later, JOINED BY LIZ.
This also works super well to cut the tension between Diane and Liz. I assume this isn’t the end of the name partnership drama, but I think it might be the end of Diane and Liz being pissed at each other. Since the name partnership drama was never really about Diane and Liz (Liz seems to want Diane to stay on...), I’m fine with that.
Because this is an episode full of callbacks that delight me, Del asks Liz when he gets to meet her son! HER SON STILL EXISTS!
It sounds like Liz and Del still aren’t fully official, which clarifies why they don’t seem to be a couple in public.
Del brings up the Diane rumor (jokingly) and Liz jokes along. I love that we get to see this playful side of Liz.
Wackner’s watching his outburst with regret. Del calms him down and notes that this is good TV (why... would Del air this... it makes DEL look worse than anyone!). Wackner calls Marissa to apologize; she picks up and accepts his apology.
Abernathy calls Liz and Diane into chambers. He’s worried he was “insensitive”-- he's noticed the tension between Liz and Diane, but now he thinks it was a lover’s spat.
Diane puts on a poker face and leans in towards Liz. She starts nodding attentively and thanks Abernathy. Liz smiles and doubles down: she’s not just going to play along, she’s going to milk it. She gets a juror kicked for homophobia, which means a mistrial. Shameless. I love it.
Diane and Liz playing off each other as Abernathy tries to look like as much of an ally as possible is comedy gold.
Diane even calls Liz darling. Omg.
LCK2 is on the stand, being charismatic and annoying. Of course he is. This is what happens when you give someone who is known for being able to connect with a crowd... a crowd and the benefit of the doubt.
LCK2 is talking about “stupid women” in his new set. Why... is Del giving that a platform at all? See, the fact that Del thinks it is not only interesting but also somehow essential to let LCK2 make jokes about sexual harassment is why I can’t take this episode seriously. Why should I be more outraged about someone who did something shitty not getting a trial for his shitty but legal behavior than I am about powerful people continuing to offer shitty people platforms? Only one of these seems outrageous to me.
Wackner decides that the professor did something “awful but lawful” and that’s it. So you’re saying that if it isn’t illegal, it doesn’t get decided in your court, either? What was the point of this, then?
The professor says she doesn’t want that—she wants the school to know she’s being punished so she can get her job back. The student storms out, rightfully. Wackner’s job isn’t to offer someone who wants punishment some form of penance, like she can exchange community service hours for offensive remarks. It’s to... well, idk what it is to do, since this whole thing doesn’t really make sense and he makes the rules, but I don’t think his verdict has to be about giving anyone what they want. I’m disappointed that Wackner comes up with a punishment and I don’t think it’s going to get her her job back.
LCK2 loses, too, because he hasn’t made amends. Wackner doesn’t want to fine him because he’s too rich for a fine to matter. Cord argues that LCK2 deserves a second chance. I mean, sure, but is he being denied a second chance? He doesn’t deserve an easy path back to his fame just because he wants it.
Wackner mentions prison. At first I was like, oh, that’s a nice throwaway line that he mentioned prison! This ties into what I was saying a few weeks ago about how Wackner likes the institutions that already exist—he just thinks they’re imperfect! It’s fitting that he’s not a prison abolitionist!
And then the episode actually went there: Wackner, thanks to David Cord’s private prison company, actually sentences LCK2 to prison. This is deeply uncomfortable (and of questionable legality). Wackner’s system is just going to recreate prison? Worse, private prison? He’s creating an unchecked, privatized legal system?! This sounds bad! Kudos to the show for taking this to some place so dark—I knew Wackner’s system would start to show cracks, but I didn’t realize they’d go this far.
And I’m not sure what the end game is with this! All I know is I’m not on board with Wackner sending people to prison (except as a plot—I am very on board with this plot) and neither is Marissa.
I do not think viewers of the reality show will like the prison twist or the fact that Cord is financing a court and prison! Can you imagine the scandal!
And what do the contracts look like that allow Wackner to sentence someone to prison? Can LCK2 leave any time he wants? If so, then how does the prison sentence help? If not, is that legal?
Del wants it to be a 2 week sentence, not 3, because this means LCK2 will have to miss his taping in two weeks. I have many questions. (1) Is Wackner’s show airing live? If not, then why do they need to rush the taping of the special? They could push it quite easily. (2) Why can’t they push the taping? This guy is a huge deal and enough potential $$ that Del wants to rehabilitate his career... so why does the taping have to be on this particular day and time?
Is there really an Exxon Mobile case, I wonder?
I like that we spend a good amount of time watching Marissa’s reactions to this latest addition to Wackner’s court. Combined with the score, Marissa’s facial expression serves to underline that private prisons are not good here! This isn’t Wackner getting legitimate methods of enforcement... this is just opening a pandora’s box of highly questionable extrajudicial practices.
I do love that this episode ends up here: it starts out like it’s going to be about cancel culture silliness and ends up being about the escalation of Wackner’s tactics.
Funny how both of the cancelled people end up being found guilty by Wackner, huh! Almost like they actually did something wrong and faced the consequences!
Liz and Diane get called in to talk to Liz’s favorite department: HR. They’re asked to sign “love contracts” to confirm things are consensual. I find it hilarious that HR gives them the paper before even asking if it’s true.
Liz grabs a pen and signs. Diane follows her lead. They look at each other and smile politely at HR.
I am... not sure how to read this last scene! Is it a fuck-you to HR? A way of easing tensions? A way for Liz to get people to stop talking to her about removing Diane as name partner because no one will want to ask if they’re really involved? Something else? Help me understand!
Curious to see where things go next. I can see LCK2 coming back for another episode but it also wouldn’t surprise me to never see him again. Similarly, I could see some glances/discussion of Diane and Liz’s romantic relationship next week, or I could see it never being mentioned again, or I could see it being mentioned next season out of the blue.
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Princess Daisy : pencils_and_pincushions // photo: that_fedora_photographer
I’m a Canadian cosplayer who has been cosplaying since 2007. I’ve had a love for Victorian fashion since I very young age (my little kid brain basically made the connection that Victorian dresses = women dressing like Disney princesses IRL), but the thing that kickstarted my desire to learn sewing was going to a fabric store with my mother when I was in my senior year of high school and seeing a Butterick pattern catalogue that had Victorian-inspired costumes. Almost instantly I had a lightbulb moment that if I learned to sew, I could actually wear those big fancy gowns I loved.
I entered university and, over the next few years, spent my free time reading and learning everything I could about sewing. In 2007, my best friend invited me to Anime North - she was going as a gothic lolita-inspired version of the Queen of Hearts, so I decided I would make a Mad Hatter to accompany her.
I was so excited that I jumped in completely head-first, and it ended up being my first foray into both sewing and pattern drafting. In hindsight it was wildly ambitious for a first project (and I’m still a little surprised that I actually pulled it off!), but I’m so glad that my enthusiasm made me persevere and psh through the challenges, because I learned a ton from that experience and ended up with a cosplay I was thrilled with.
I remember seeing myself in the mirror the first time and being so happy when I realized I’d been able to bring something to life from my imagination. When my friend and I got to the con, things only got better from there - the atmosphere was so energetic and colourful thanks to all the amazing cosplays, and it was filled with so many fun, enthusiastic, and friendly people. From that day I was officially hooked on cosplay.
I’m part of the Toronto Steampunk Society and, each year at Fan Expo Canada, we hold an Annual Costume Challenge where we pick a theme and encourage people to make a costume based on the theme. A couple of years ago, the theme was ‘steampunk video game characters’ and one of my friends in the TSS, Modern Myths Cosplay, thought it would be cute to do Princess Peach and Princess Daisy.
I loved the idea and, after more discussion, we decided to do a steampunk twist on the Super Smash Bros Brawl version since it was fancier and seemed to lend itself well to a steampunk interpretation. Though Daisy isn’t officially in Brawl, my friend was fortunately able to dig up some fan edits of Peach in Daisy’s colours, so with that we were set.
I usually make my outfits myself, but since my friend and I wanted to ensure our cosplays matched, we decided to work collaboratively and divide things: I would create the bodices and accessories for both gowns, and she would create the skirts and crinolines.
I started off by drafting the base bodice patterns. Since I draft all my costumes, I used my existing bodice block/master patterns for myself and drafted a bodice block from scratch for my friend based on her measurements. One neat thing about working this way was that it basically turned into a girls’ weekend where I was able to teach my friend more about pattern drafting, which ended up making the process unexpectedly fun and memorable.
After I finished fitting my friend’s bodice block, I got to work drafting our bodice patterns based on the reference pics we had collected. Being able to tackle both bodices ended up working well since it enabled me to draft them in a way that made them visually match identical while taking our respective body shapes into account.
A couple of mockups and fittings later, we had an idea of how much fabric we needed, so we went fabric shopping. My friend suggested that we go with richer, more regal-looking tones instead of strictly game-accurate colours, so when we found a place selling gorgeous peau de soie and sparkle organza, I was instantly sold on a gold and burnt orange colour scheme.
We split the fabric based on our respective portions and worked on them separately. I cut and sewed the bodices, which was fairly straight forward but time-consuming! The part that sticks in my mind the most was the center front panel because it had so many pieces and layers - two types of satin, two types of organza (including one that had to be ruched to the base panel in multiple places), five rows of lace, interfacing...and that doesn’t even include the lining!
I also created our jewelry and crowns. The brooches and earrings were made from filigree settings that I painted, glued gems, and attached pin backs and earring hooks to, and the crowns are made from craft foam painted in gold acrylic, with embellishments assembled from painted filigree stampings and gems.
My friend created our cage skirts from 1/4 PEX pipe and brown grosgrain ribbon, which ended up being the perfect hoop skirt material since it was cheap, lightweight, and strong enough to support the huge, heavy skirts. She cut and sewed our skirts (including attaching meters and meters of trim that I’d painted white to better match the game colours) and she also made our bloomers.
The gowns were a huge undertaking and, thanks to work and general real life eating up time, we did end up engaging in the dreaded con crunch, but fortunately in the end we were able to get them to a state where they were pretty and wearable!
The response at the convention was absolutely amazing - I don’t think I’ve ever had a costume elicit the reactions that Princess Daisy did. We figured that, since we were cosplaying the princesses from Mario, there was a good chance we might be recognized, but the thing I wasn’t prepared for was how genuinely happy and excited people were, especially when they saw us together. We literally had kids waving at us from across the street when they spotted us.
Even grown-ups loved it - we were frequently stopped for pictures, and even a couple of the folks in the dealer’s room who were running booths would break into huge smiles and ask for pictures. Plus, people loved the steampunk twist and were delighted when they realized how much our costumes matched.
The best, most heartwarming response to my Princess Daisy cosplay happened when I met up with some other friends and one tapped me on the shoulder, pointed behind me and said, “I think she wants a picture with the princess.” I turned around and, standing a few feet away, was this adorable, super shy little black girl who was staring in my direction. My heart instantly melted and I went over to her and had a little chat and took a picture with her.
As a black cosplayer who has run several panels on BIPOC cosplay and spoken about the importance of diversity and representation in cosplay, being able to show that sweet little girl that someone who looks like her can be a princess - and showing kids of other races that Princess Daisy can be black - was a vivid reminder that representation does matter.
Since I got into the hobby, cosplay has been a big part of my life and has positively impacted me in so many ways. It has been an incredible creative outlet that has given me the chance to express myself, and it has allowed me to meet so many wonderful people - many of whom are now among my closest friends. However, I think one of the most rewarding things about cosplay has been how it has allowed me to provide BIPOC cosplay representation and visibility within my local cosplay community. I often do Afro-steampunk cosplay, and one of the most unexpectedly moving things I’ve experienced has been other BIPOC saying to me that seeing my outfits make them feel like they can cosplay.
It has been humbling and has motivated me to get more involved in the cons I attend. For the past several years I’ve run panels on diversity in cosplay/steampunk as well as sewing and cosplay construction, which has enabled me to share the knowledge and skills I’ve learned. I also lead the steampunk section of the Anime North Fashion Show, and I’ve made a point to recruit as diverse a roster of models as possible. I’m happy that we’ve been able to showcase steampunk looks inspired by various cultures including Chinese, Indian, and Morrocan.
Another plus is that the sewing skills I’ve learned from cosplay have come in handy in other areas of my life. It has been fun - and surprisingly empowering - to be at a point where I can use my sewing ability to create one-of-a-kind outfits for formal work events (like office holiday parties) that make me feel pretty and confident.
Something I’ve frequently mentioned during my BIPOC cosplay/steampunk panels is that the simple act of showing up to a con or event in cosplay can have an impact because you never know how much that visibility can inspire other BIPOC to get into the hobby, so my advice to anyone wanting to get into cosplay is to do it! Overall I have found it to be a fun, creative, energizing experience.
While I’ve been extremely fortunate to have had overwhelmingly positive experiences while cosplaying, I recognize that, unfortunately, BIPOC do sometimes face harassment and outright racist comments (especially online) that can make getting into the hobby seem scary. Finding welcoming, supportive spaces in person and online can be a big help (the POC Cosplay group on Facebook is great for this) - plus, thanks to things like #28DaysOfBlackCosplay, there is more visibility and inspiration out there than ever before.
The other thing I’d add is to treat each cosplay as a learning experience. Being able to work so closely with my friend on creating a cosplay was a completely different creation process than I’m used to, and it was really cool to be able to learn from each other’s different working styles and experience. It was great to teach her pattern drafting and see how happy she was to learn skills she could apply to future cosplays, and I was so excited when she showed me her PEX pipe hoop skirt method. Looking back on my Princess Daisy cosplay makes me smile because it’s almost like a physical representation of the fun we have cosplaying together.
#princess daisy#princess daisy cosplay#cosplay#black cosplay#black cosplayer#poc cosplay#poc cosplayer#cosplay interview#steampunk
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Books of 2021 - September
I successfully completed the Magical Readathon (MR) prompts! I didn't actually finish the tbr I set up I did swap out book that still met the prompts. Honestly, I'm shocked I was so restrained!
Emma by Jane Austen
Emma was, obviously, a reread for me - and a second reread in one year so I’m just not going to say anything about it. I have no new thoughts, just 🥰🥰🥰
MR - The Mist of Solitude
Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
I have a lot of issues with Peter Pan, and I’m not sure I have the space to talk about it here. I won’t promise to elaborate on this in a full review because I have a VERY LONG backlist to write at this point... I might do one in the next 5 years!
However, I feel that Peter Pan isn’t aging well in terms of race, feminism, etc. For me it was an uncomfortable read and these issues got in the way of me enjoying the story, particularly when it came to Wendy and the Native American tribe who live in Neverland. The language Barrie uses and the ideas around gender roles doesn’t come across well in the 21st century.
I can understand why Peter Pan is so well loved and remains influential. I genuiely love the imagery involved in the story and a lot of the adaptations (Jason Isaacs as Captain Hook is just...perfection!) But the novel itself isn’t for me. I’m glad I’ve read it but I’m never coming back in this form - I’ll stick to the 2003 film, especially as a lot of my intertest in Peter Pan is centred around Captain Hook at this point, adolescent boys going feral is not something I’m particularly interested in to be honest...!
MR: Ashton Tree
The Turn of the Screw by Henry James
Tragically this was another disappointing read for me, I don’t enjoy ghost stories for the most part - however, everyone I’d spoken to about Henry James was convinced this was going to be my thing. It’s the gothic elements mixed with James’ language and open endings, that’s usually my cup of tea.
I just didn’t care about this one? I didn’t love James’ use of language (it felt over written), and the ambiguity just left me frustrated. I can see why people would enjoy it, and I understand why my mum in particular thought I’d like it, but it just wasn’t for me. I also found the main character incredibly unappealing to read about, so that definitely didn’t help!
MR: Ruin of Skye
Etiquette and Espionage, Curtsies and Conspiracies, and Waistcoats and Weponry by Gail Carriger (Finishing School #1, 2 & 3)
I’ve got reviews of this series already - somewhere in 2019 if you really want to go and find them - because these were rereads. This series makes me so happy. I’ve said several times that Miss Gail is my comfort read author. I pick up one of her books and I just enter my happy place, so there’s not a lot of critical thought going on when I talk about them.
If you want a fluffy (yet socially aware) romp about a teenaged girl attending a Victorian finishing school for assassins and spies then this is the series for you. They’re lighthearted, hilarious, and incredibly entertaining. They’re also very fast to read with some fantastic characters, seriously these books have the most accurate representations of teenaged girls I’ve read - minus the espionage of course!
MR: Orilium Academy Arc
Jamaica Inn by Daphne du Maurier
I have mixed feelings about Jamaica Inn. I enjoyed reading it but I was still somewhat disappointed. I do think it was slightly inevitable, I ADORE Rebecca and whatever I ended up reading next from du Maurier wasn't going to live up to that book.
Jamaica Inn was a fun read, it was atmospheric and slightly creepy with similar vibes to Wuthering Heights! (Might be why I enjoyed the atmosphere now I think about it...!) It would make for a fantastic cosy winter evening read - you know where you curl up with a blanket, cup of tea, and the book to ignore the world for a few hours while it's cold and miserable outside? It's that kind of read.
However, the atmosphere was by far the best bit of this novel. The characters felt like flat puppets to facilitate the predictable plot... Nothing in this book was a surprise, I'd even managed to work out who was the ultimate bad guy as soon as they were introduced 🤦♀️ It's just not a book that keeps you guessing or engaged that much in the characters. Which is fine, I still loved the atmosphere and writing, but it's not a new favourite. It didn't make for a fantastic book club discussion either...
MR: Obsidian Falls
The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien (Lord of the Rings #3)
I need to talk about Lord of the Rings even less than I do about Emma... Obviously I adored it 😅 If you haven't read the trilogy yet do so!
I'll definitely be writing a reflection on annotating the entire Lord of the Rings so I'll leave all I have to say for that post.
MR: The Novice Path
Arm of the Sphinx by Josiah Bancroft (Books of Babel #2)
I did this book a disservice... I read it as I was annotating The Return of the King and I was on such a Tolkien high that I didn't Arm of the Sphinx the best chance to wow me. It did feel a bit lacklustre - but that is completely on me.
Arm of the Sphinx is a huge step up from Senlin Ascends, and I really liked Senlin Ascends! The world started to make sense, the character development was fabulous for everyone, there was more plot, and the pace gave us more time to ruminate on what was actually helping! This book was all round more coherent, the parts went together well (rather than feeling like 3 separate novellas), and I came to understand what the hell is going on. It's a fabulous second installment to the series, however, I struggled to connect to it? And it's completely because I read it next to Lord of the Rings, nothing can compete with Tolkien for me.
My one genuine criticism for Arm of the Sphinx is the writing. In opening up to other perspectives, without having dedicated chapters for each character, Bancroft has a weird habit of fluidly moving between several different individual's thought processes within a single chapter. It made it hard to follow at times, I just didn't know who was thinking or seeing what in places and I was left confused.
This little issue aside I did really like this book, it was a marked improvement on the first novel, and I'd highly recommend the series so far. I'll definitely be continuing in the near future!
MR: Tower of Rumination
#books#reading#books of 2021#september#mini book review#emma#jane austen#peter pan#j.m. barrie#the turn of the screw#henry james#finishing school#gail carriger#jamaica inn#daphne du maurier#the return of the king#j.r.r. tolkien#arm of the sphinx#josiah bancroft#magical readathon
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Perchance to Meet pt. 2 REWRITE
Hi y'all.
I'm really sad I have to do this all over again because tumblr goofed up big time. I went to edit this for tags and cleanliness and then next thing I know boom it’s gone. I know it won’t be as good as it was when I first wrote it but I will do my best to recreate what I had. This is what I get for not saving it or not doing so when I TOLD MYSELF TOO 😤 again i’m so sorry and here’s my rewrite
Warnings: suggestive language 18+, i think that’t it!
Part 3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aizawa Shouta is a simple man. Wore clothes that were best for him, always did his duty as a teacher and an underground hero. He was always able to do the right or best thing when it was necessary. Never afraid to back down from what needed to be done.
So why is he standing across the street on his day off from a place he’s been meaning to check out for weeks? He studies the business card in his hand that has the name and address of the building he’s currently staring at. Just for good measure he triple checks the address and store name-
“Personally Yours, Book boutique!”
Black almond eyes widen as Aizawa’s thoughts are perturbed by the loud blond next to him. He’s not sure why he allowed his best friend (don’t tell Hizashi that) to accompany him today to meet the intriguing bartender and bookstore owner. (Y/n) (L/n). That name and face has been plaguing him over the last three weeks from when they first met. The way her hair matched and reflected her personality, her amazing quirk, her willingness to make people’s lives better...
The way her lips looked incredibly kissable and fuckable at the same time had left him with his hands down his pants many nights.
Aizawa looks to his friend as he sees Hizashi grinning widely from ear to ear, eager about what’s about to happen. It’s been far too long since the blond has seen his friend this worked up over anything, let alone a person! But he knew, deep in his friendly heart, that Aizawa would have done nothing if he didn’t intervene and tell him to go visit her.
“It’s about time you decided to go see her ‘Zawa. It’s been what, like three weeks?”
“You don’t have to remind me.” Yes, he knew. Aizawa knew we waited two weeks and six days too long to finally reach out or do something. But could the world blame him? He’s a teacher and underground hero already looking for the next class of heroes for U.A.; the man hasn’t had a day off in far too long and now he has one. He can only hope that the lady he kept waiting would understand. But she had to, right?
With what seemed like forever, he finally managed to place one foot in front of the other and cross the street to enter the building. The outside looks quaint, almost too perfect for a bookstore in his opinion. It appears to be one story but there might be living quarters on top of it? Aizawa rolls his shoulders to relieve himself of any tension, turns back to his friend before he promptly goes inside…
And immediately regrets his decision.
The loud sound that bombarded his ears was something he did not expect. Children. Toddlers maybe, but obnoxious nonetheless. He begins to question whether or not he should stay based on the loudness in the store. However despite the noise, he feels a sense of calmness and home-ness that he felt when he had talked with (Y/n) at the bar. The bookstore smells of cinnamon and vanilla, a combination he thinks he can get used to. The layout seems to be welcoming as well. In the middle, which he assumes is the check out and help desk, is a circular module that has different pathways leading to other parts of the store. Each pathway leads to shelves lined up with all kinds of books, lit above by medium sized lanterns that give the store its unique glow.
Aizawa surmises that the store is an accurate representation of the bewildering woman he met a few weeks ago. Everything about the size, the layout, the aura reminds him of their plethora of conversations from just one night, and maybe more to come.
He approaches the middle desk in hopes that she would be near. Taking in his surroundings, he realizes that the bulk of the noise is coming from the back, which looks to be a cozy reading nook with bean bag and other comfy chairs surrounded by end tables and ottomans. He can feel the chaotic energy from where he stands.
Hesitantly, he pushes the bell near the cash register.
“I’ll be right there!”
Stunned at the sound of her voice, he waits patiently but also impatiently for the woman that has been haunting his thoughts for almost a month now to appear. His eyes wander to the counter, however at that moment the sound of sneakers hitting linoleum comes closer to him.
“Hi,” she pants out, holding up a finger. “How, whew, how can I help you…”
She drawls out the last part as she finally sees who had called her attention. Seriously, couldn’t this person know that today was extremely busy? But her thoughts come to a halt when she’s met with deep almond eyes and scruff, even though she’s seen it once, could recognize anywhere.
“Aizawa-san?”
“Just Aizawa is fine. Looks like I came at a bad time?”
“Hah, that’s an understatement,” (Y/n) puffs out. Her eyes must be deceiving her. There’s no way he’s actually here. They had met almost a month ago and it was a meeting she’ll never forget. The hard-working woman is never one to make small talk with her patrons but something about him caught her focus and for the rest of the night and the most of these three weeks, was all she could think about. “Once a month we have a local daycare come in and bring their students to look and explore in the store! Helps them get better at reading and finding out what other things they may like.”
The man before her nods in understanding, unsure of what else to say. He had practiced this moment over and over but now that it’s here he’s unsure of what to do.
“I thought you were never gonna show up. But I’m really glad to see you not in a club, it feels more real I guess?” She paused briefly before beginning again. “I honestly thought I made up the whole thing, or that something was wrong with me…”
“No,” Aizawa interrupts, afraid to hear more. “It’s my fault. I’ve been busy with teaching and being a hero.”
“No I get it. I work two jobs too so I understand how busy you are. I’m glad you’re even here.”
The two of them smile at each other, taking in each others features in that present moment. The feel of familiarity reaches them once again, as if everything around them doesn’t exist and it’s just them. Most of the reason he’s never considered meeting anyone is mostly because of his schedule. Many would find it ridiculous how busy the man is but he cares deeply for what he does and bringing someone new into it would be a whole new level of stress he doesn’t think he needs. He’s married to his job essentially, and so it seems is (Y/n).
Their moment is broken when small hand tugs on the pant leg of (Y/n), stealing her eyes away from his. She looks down to see one of her daycare toddlers staring up at her. The little girl, Yuki, unfaltering in her gaze is clearly demanding attention.
“Oh! Hi Yuki, did you already pick a book to bring home?”
The little girl nods and proceeds to lift her arms above her head, making a grabbing motion with her hands. (Y/n) slyly rolls her eyes and picks up Yuki. Holding her in her arms, (Y/n) turns back to Aizawa.
“This is Yuki. She’s a little shy, soft spoken, but absolutely adorable. She’s also one of my favorites because she’s so quiet.”
Aizawa looks down to the toddler in her arms and doesn’t make any moves to approach. The toddler’s eyes widen at the strange man in front of her, eyes boring into his figure to take him in.
“Hobo.”
“Yuki!”
It takes all of the woman’s strength to not drop the child as her shoulders shake in laughter. Aizawa struggles to hide the embarrassment on his face by looking away from the scene before him. It’s not his fault he prefers to wear all black; it’s slimming and makes him feel comfortable. He’s starting to think that maybe he should have shaved and put his hair in a bun for his day off.
Once his heart has calmed down, he faces the toddler again only to see her being swayed back and forth by (Y/n) as she hums a soothing melody. He knows it’s not a possible thing but his heart skipped a beat at the sight. It was the most domestic thing he’s seen that actually makes him happy.
But at the same time he thinks about having one of his own with her and wanting to fuck her senseless against-
“So I’m guessing this is your day off?”
He stammers, “Uh, yeah. I was hoping we could do something today.”
“Hmm, do something as a date or do something as friends?”
He smirks at her sass, “I’m hoping for the former.”
“That can be arranged. I close early today so, meet me in front of the store at 7?”
“That sounds great, let me give you my number and-“
“Hobo.”
“Yuki!”
She promptly takes the child to the back and excuses herself from the desk. Aizawa searches around him for a spare piece of paper and luckily finds an unneeded receipt and a very purple pen. Once he’s done writing he sees her come back without the child.
“Sorry about that. But, ah, is this your number?”
“Yeah clearly.”
“Well geez, maybe I will put you as hobo in my phone just for that.”
“Please don’t.”
“Oh it’s happening.”
He rolls his eyes at her antics and smiles at her. He doesn’t know what it is, but something about being around her just makes him calm. “Listen, I don’t want to hold you up any longer than I have. But text me when you’re ready.
“And maybe I’ll give you a night to remember.”
*****************************************
He winks at her as he walked out and (Y/n) is left with her heart pumping in her ears. Did she really respond to what Aizawa said with “Oh yeah? Well I hope you do ‘cause maybe I’ll make those fantasies of yours come true. It has been three weeks after all.”? What was that?! She can’t just say she knows what he was thinking by the way his pupils had dilated a couple time, that’s too crazy.
Too weird, nope, she’s not weird at all.
Slapping her cheeks to re-center herself, she approaches the back of her store to meet with the children and her co-workers.
“Finally you’re back,” her co-worker, Kona, sighs. “Who was that? You were gone for a while so I know it wasn’t just another customer.”
“It was, um the guy.”
“Shut up!” he practically shouts, “he came here? After three weeks? Are you gonna see him? Please tell me you’re gonna see him?”
“Kona hush, not in front of the kids.”
He shrugs, “Oh sure, when it’s your sex life it’s all secret secret, but if it’s my sex life everyone has to know!”
(Y/n) slices her hand across her neck. “Shut. It!”
“Fine fine,” he whispers. “But you gotta at least tell me if he gave off daddy vibes at least. Big dick energy? Most guys like that do exude it.”
“You are so lucky I love you or you’d be fired.”
“You didn’t say no,” Kona whisper sang back to her. She did her best to hide the way her eyes widened at that but failed miserably.
Closing time couldn’t come quick enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
here’s the rewrite! @kiribaku-queen @therealwalmartjesus @prk-pyo
#i did the thing#my writing#aizawa x y/n#aizawa x reader#shouta aizawa#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha aizawa#hizashi yamada#sorry its so long#perchance
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The link between diet and autism: a critical analysis of the recent Earth Locker episode and a chance for River to relive her lab report title writing days
Link to the original video
So as I already mentioned I’ve seen a few people talking about the recent episode of the Earth Locker (a podcast by Robert Sheehan, Tom Hopper, and Bryon Knight) where they talk with Tom and his wife Laura about their experiences raising their autistic son. I watched the whole episode and while there were a lot of good points made, there was also some misinformation, statements that were poorly explained and could be misinterpreted, and a couple of pretty harmful ideas put across which I’m gonna go into below.
Disclaimer one: I’m gonna be saying a lot of stuff that I’m not going to be posting sources for. This is because everything I’m saying comes from my experiences as an autistic person, my experiences working as a support worker for adults with autism where I am currently a key worker for two autistic individuals, my work related training on autism, mental health, and diet & nutrition, and my knowledge from my psychology degree in which I also spent a lot of time studying biology and physiology. This is all just stuff that I know, and at some point I might try to add some sources but I’m writing this fresh off watching and making notes on this video so my energy is already running a little low and I’d rather focus on getting my points across instead of having to take time to source every piece of information.
Disclaimer two: The purpose of this post isn’t to attack or defend any of the people involved in the podcast. This is also in no way a criticism of Tom and Laura’s parenting. This is purely a criticism of the discussion that took place on the podcast, not on any of the choices they’ve made for their son.
Disclaimer three: I’m going to be using the phrase “challenging behaviour” a lot while I’m explaining things as this is the term used in most modern research and is what we use at work. This basically describes any behaviour that causes harm to the individual or to other people around them, or behaviour that is detrimental to the individual’s wellbeing.
So the main thing I want to go into with this is the misinformation and misinterpretation of information that was central to the discussion in this podcast, and that was around the connection between diet and autism. Most of the things Tom and Laura said about the effects of diet weren’t incorrect, but it wasn’t explained accurately and missed out on some key points so let’s go:
In terms of whether diet can “cause” autism: no it can’t. There’s absolutely no evidence to suggest it does. It also can’t “worsen” autism because autism isn’t something that can get “worse” or “better”. A person with autism can develop and learn new skills and they can also regress (and diet can influence this, which I’ll go into further on), but an autistic person at a lower stage of development does not have “worse” autism than a person at a higher stage of development.
Poor diet can have an impact on autistic people in the same way as with neurotypical people. If we eat junk, we tend to feel like junk as a result, and when we feel like junk it can be harder to concentrate and carry out our usual day to day tasks. However, autistic people are also significantly more likely to suffer from digestive problems and food intolerances, and so for a lot of autistic people (or parents of autistic children) diet may be something that requires close attention. So saying that an autistic individual’s challenging behaviour could be a result of their diet isn’t necessarily untrue, but it does massively oversimplify the issue. The challenging behaviour is more likely a response to pain or discomfort, (as well as frustration if they are unable to communicate this), which is caused by a diet unsuitable for this specific individual, which is caused by an intolerance or digestive problem, which they were at greater risk of developing due to their autism. It’s worth mentioning that medical professionals still don’t know why this comorbidity exists.
So, referring back to Tom and Laura’s experience with their son, they were explaining that their son’s challenging behaviour spiked while he was on a high-sugar diet. Laura also added that he had been suffering from increasingly frequent infections in his ears and throat while eating these foods, which makes sense because high blood sugar levels can weaken the immune system and make us more susceptible to infections. They then explained that these infections stopped following a tonsillectomy and a change to a sugar-free diet, which then also lead to a complete reduction in their son’s challenging behaviours. Again, implying that the reduction in behaviours is a result of cutting out the sugar is oversimplifying. It’s most likely that their son’s challenging behaviours were a response to the pain the infections were causing, which may or may not have been linked to his sugar intake. Either way, autistic people are all individuals and so while a reduction in sugar intake has benefited their son, by no means does that mean that all autistic people should be following a low-sugar diet or that this would be beneficial for them.
This isn’t entirely on topic but there are two other things I want to address in terms of what Tom and Laura said while talking about their son, the first being when talking about their initial approach to their children's’ diet before they were aware that their son was autistic. Laura essentially said that she wanted their children to be able to try different foods and that the focus would be on education about health and diet rather than cutting “unhealthy” foods out of their diets completely, which I thought was a great way to approach things. However she then added that, had they known about their son’s autism at the time, they may have approached things differently, which I was confused about. I think (and hope) she was just trying to say that if they had known upfront that sugar particularly seemed to be detrimental to their son, they would have reduced that straight away rather than having to use a process of trial and error which makes sense, but just the way it was phrased set off alarm bells because it sounded like she was implying that they would have controlled his diet more strictly if they had known he was autistic. Hopefully this isn’t the case because autistic people don’t need to have their choices limited if there is no detriment to their health or wellbeing.
Another thing I was confused about, and I’m not sure if this was supposed to be more of a weird analogy rather than factual information, was when Tom started talking about “sensory glands” when talking about their son’s hypersensitivity to sounds. I think his exact words were something along the line of saying that the high sugar levels were causing his “sensory glands” to “swell” which was heightening his sensitivity. And like... unless I missed something there is no such thing as a sensory gland and they certainly don’t swell up when we’re over stimulated or when we have a lot of sugar. Sugar triggers high dopamine responses in our brains which then leads to cravings and can cause spikes and crashes in mood, and it can also cause inflammation, all of which can cause discomfort and in turn could lead to an increase in sensitivity, but as far as I know sugar doesn’t have a direct effect on our senses.
Now on to the elephant in the room and the two big, glaring no-no's in this podcast, both of which were said by Tom (these are not direct quotes because I didn’t get a chance to jot them down in time so I’m paraphrasing slightly):
“we cannot ignore the correlation between rising autism rates and the increase in fast food consumption” (spoiler alert: yes we can)
“I really want to get to the cause of autism and see if there’s something that can be done to prevent it”
So, first of all, autism isn’t something that needs to be prevented. Autistic people are not a detriment to society. We don’t have an illness, we just experience the world differently and, in some cases, require additional support to live our lives as fully as possible. Obviously it can’t be ruled out that fast food, or anything else, has a part to play in rising rates, but there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that it does and correlation absolutely does not equal causation. Gay representation in the media has also been steadily rising with rates of autism diagnosis. Does this mean that seeing gay people on TV makes people autistic? No. As Laura briefly mentioned, it is far more likely that the rising rates are actually due to an increase in understanding about autism and the accessibility of diagnosis, especially when you consider how many people are still slipping under the radar even with all the knowledge we have today.
I appreciate that most of this podcast is just a conversation between friends about various topics, but when the goal of this podcast is to “raise awareness”, and with the shared platform the people involved have, casual statements like these are incredibly dangerous. With the general implication that if everyone lived a healthy, clean, and organic lifestyle, we could reduce the number of autistic people in our society, this not only puts the “blame” on parents of autistic people, and on the individuals themselves, but is also dipping into eugenics territory. And while I don’t think the intentions behind either statement were malicious, they were incredibly ignorant, and the fact that they went completely unchallenged was concerning and made me pretty uncomfortable.
There were still a lot of positives in the podcast. I’m really glad Laura was also involved because she definitely came across as being the most educated on the subject of the four of them and did make a point of bringing up issues with diagnosis (particularly among girls with autism), her and Tom’s privilege in terms of being able to work with doctor’s to find out as much as possible about their son’s dietary needs and to then provide him with a tailored diet, and also addressing the issues with “high functioning vs low functioning” when Rob asked about the “severity” of their son’s autism. However there was still an undeniable amount of inaccurate or poorly presented information, as well as some things that were just plain incorrect and offensive. I appreciate that a lot of this was coming from personal experience rather than being generalised information, but I think this could have been communicated a lot more clearly and effectively considering the intention was to spread awareness, and the episode would have massively benefitted from the input of an autistic adult. Rob specifically had a lot of questions about autism in general and I think they would have been much better answered by somebody with autism, rather than a parent giving an outside perspective of their child’s experiences. It’s always a little uncomfortable to watch four neurotypical people discuss autism, regardless of how positive their intentions are, and I don’t think it would have been a great challenge for them to find an autistic person who would have been willing to talk about the topic with them.
#YES it took me two hours to write this NO I won't elaborate#tom hopper#robert sheehan#the earth locker
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New Amsterdam Chapter 91
“I give up,” muttered Wade.
[For a girl almost two meters tall with insanely huge wings, she can disappear.]
{People say the same thing about us. She did say we helped raise her after all.}
[I thought we agreed that if we had raised her she’d be dead—]
“There you are.” Wade turned at the thud behind him and looked at Angel. She tucked her wings against her back as she looked at him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
{But—we’ve been looking for her.}
“You have?” he asked.
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you,” she said. “I even stopped by Stark Industries, just in case you were shadowing Peter to work, but you weren’t there. I had to tell bad heart boy that his girlfriend is safe anyway, and I learned something interesting.” She calmly perched on the edge of the roof and stretched her wings out, feathers rustling slightly in the breeze.
“What did you learn?” asked Wade as he leaned against the door to the rest of the building.
“Cats don’t lay eggs.”
{Didn’t expect that.}
[Do cats lay eggs where she’s from?]
Wade thought that was a good question, so he repeated it. She shrugged. “I don’t know, really,” she said. “Pretty much all the animals I’ve interacted with where I’m from are pigeons, rats, slimes, and this bizarre pink fuzzy thing that keeps escaping its home dimension to follow Dr. Strange like a puppy. It’s about two stories tall, covered in eye-smarting pink fur, has three eyes, and fangs. Oh, and it sucks blood.”
“What blood?” asked Wade.
“Whatever happens to be trying to piss of Dr. Strange. It’s attacked Tony several times, but the fangs can’t get through the suit.” She curled her wings back to her body, but held them loosely against her. Her half braid dangled in the wind.
“Why did you think cats laid eggs?” Wade asked. He knew they didn’t. He’d been in Stark’s basement (not as creepy and gory as he’d hoped) and watched the cat give birth in the incinerator.
“Oh, the cat—or, well, the thing that looks like a cat—the street kids adopted laid eggs,” she commented calmly. “Oh, and one of the kittens? On Stark’s desk? It went giant and green and nearly took off the hand of one of the people in the office that Pepper was pissed at. It was great.” The girl grinned.
Wade blinked. “What?” he asked, feeling like he’d missed part of the conversation.
“I might have stayed to spy a little. In my defense; I had no idea where you were,” the girl continued.
[And we’re back to the starting point. Why does she want to talk to us?]
Good question. Wade repeated it. She sighed. “Something is happening I don’t understand,” she said. “I don’t know if this is a good thing, a bad thing, or an anomaly that I’m putting too much thought into. I need someone to talk to, to bounce ideas off of.”
{Wait—and she came to us?}
Wade shared Yellow’s incredulity. “Why me?”
“Because you understand how I’m not from around here. Your mind doesn’t work like other people’s,” Angel explained.
Well—that was all true. Wade knew that Angel was Not From Around Here in a way that other people didn’t, or couldn't understand even if she explained it to them. And even then, most of the people in New Amsterdam would just think that she was a crazy mutant and might even try to restrain her for her own good.
[I don’t think that would turn out well.]
“All right,” said Wade as he plopped to a sitting position, back still against the door. “Ask me!”
She slid to a sitting position, her back against the roof ledge, as she responded. “First,” she said grimly, “I have to give you some context. Do you remember me telling you how I came here on the RPG quest from Hel?” He nodded. “All right. I sort of found the person I’m looking for, but there’s something strange going on.”
Wade was basically the definition of strange. “Alrighty then,” he said as he slapped his knees. “Give me deets! Roll the gossip! What’s the down low?”
“Really low,” Angel said as she leaned forwards. “All the way from Hel, herself.”
Wade perked up. “Herself?” he asked.
Angel explained. She explained that, in her world, one of Loki’s children was his daughter Hel, and that she ruled her own underworld realm and seemed, from Angel’s descriptions, to babysit souls between reincarnation.
{Ask if Hel dressed like Bo Peep!}
[Do not. She has a serious problem here.]
Angel explained that the person she was looking for—that she now referred to as “BB” for some reason—
{I wonder what it stands for?}
And about the insane power boosts that “BB” got from stealing souls. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s like a shitty RPG; complete with evil boss to kill.”
“Not kill.” Angel scowled and, for just a moment, looked just like Peter. “I have to take her back—whole, healthy, and in possession of the souls she’s stolen or Hel can’t get them back and might not be able to fix balance again.”
That—actually made an absurd amount of sense. “So—what’s your question?” he asked.
“Why does she seem weaker in this world?” Angel asked.
{Um—what?}
Wade repeated the very good question. Angel explained. “The more of the souls she harvests, the stronger she is. The more complete her control over the people she’s turned is. At this point she should be able to control people who are mere susceptible to being changed, whether or not they already have.”
“Makes sense,” Wade allowed.
Angel got up and began to pace, scowling, wings partially unfurling and then furling back into place as she moved. “Exactly!” she said triumphantly. “Except—she can’t. She can’t even completely control the ones she has changed.”
“Um—what?”
Angel sighed. “BB,” she said slowly, “does this—thing. This thing turns humans into these bizarre human/spider hybrids which are then—or have been up until now—in her complete control.” She sighed, and drooped a little, the wings hanging low.
[Fascinating. They seem to be an accurate representation of her mood.]
{Like a mood stone without the color!}
“I met one,” Angel said. “Daredevil and his—partner? Friend? Rival? Ninja assassin Elektra,” the girl continued, “were fighting it.” She paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Although, they weren’t fighting it very well. Is it possible you could, like, help him with that before she uses her monsters to take over the city?”
[She has a lot of faith in us.]
{I thought Daredevil pinned us to a wall with our own sword last time we spoke to him?}
“Don’t think that’s feasible,” Wade said.
She shook her head. “I hope they don’t die. Anyway, the one they were trying—and failing—to kill wasn’t being controlled. It wasn’t even trying to hurt them; just move them out of the way.”
“Why?”
Angel met his gaze firmly. “Because they were standing between it and where it thought the children it had back when it was human are. Actually,” she added thoughtfully, “I’m standing between it and the children. And maybe Tony. Point is—it wasn’t under orders. It was working on its own. It’s fighting her control, and it shouldn't be able to.”
“Because BB is now supercharged?” Wade hazarded.
{Why isn’t she talking to Peter? We’re barely following the conversation!}
[I’m following it just fine. The super villain's power is nerfed and she doesn’t know the reason why.]
“Have you ever been to a dimension that had a BB of its own?” asked Wade.
“Well—once, but only when this nonsense had just begun. And they almost killed each other,” Angel admitted.
“What stopped them?” Wade asked with curiosity.
“I did. I need to take BB back home alive and in one piece.”
That—actually made sense. “Maybe,” he said slowly, “She doesn’t have the power she should, because it’s being shared. Maybe there’s another her, already here.”
Angel scoffed. “But that’s—” She stopped. Froze in place, like Spidey sometimes did during patrol when he realized something. “Oh, no,” she breathed as her eyes went wide at whatever revelation was spinning across her head. “I’ve got to go!” she said as she whirled and dove over the edge of the building taking off—towards Stark Tower.
Wade was about to go after her when he heard shouting and leaned over to see a situation at the bank across the street. Well, he assumed it was a situation. Normal days at the bank didn’t end with the building circled by police and Feds—and did he spot SHIELD in the crowd? Why would SHIELD be there?
{Seems a little beneath them.}
[We need to check this out.]
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Hey everyone! I just wanted to say a few things about that latest Loki trailer and the way I reacted to it. I wasn’t going to bother but I think I actually lost a few followers over it, so I thought I might as well.
I haven’t posted much about the Loki TV show because I want to reserve judgment until it actually comes out. I have had thoughts on the trailers— some good, some bad—but I realize that for better or for worse trailers are often not an accurate representation of what they’re advertising and that it would be better to wait until the show drops. The only time I didn’t do that was with the TV spot that just came out. I wasn’t expecting the whole “clothes ripped off Loki’s body” thing at all, and seeing that with no warning kind of gave me an anxiety attack. I thought I was going to be sick and ended up having to go into another room to calm down, but while I was doing that I was also posting about how upset I was and how I wasn’t excited for the show anymore and things along those lines. Those posts weren’t up for a very long time— I think maybe two hours before I deleted them and logged off (which I realize is what I should’ve done in the first place). I deleted them because a) I don’t actually feel that way about the show and b) I don’t really want to be posting judgment about it before I see it, because that’s unfair to the show. That one clip just really upset me and I kind of went off for a little while.
I just want to make it clear that I wasn’t trying to shame anyone who liked that clip or was excited by it. I don’t think I came across that way, but I’ve seen a lot of discussion surrounding the various reactions to that clip and like I said, I think I might have lost followers over mine, so I wanted to emphasize that and to say that I’m very sorry if that was how I came across. That wasn’t my intention at all. I know that just because I’m bothered by something doesn’t mean that everyone is or everyone should be, and again, that wasn’t what I was trying to say in the slightest. I was just upset by the clip, not by anyone else’s reaction to it.
Anyways ... yeah. I don’t really know how to end this. But I just wanted to clarify that because I realize that trailer has sparked a lot of discord in the fandom and I wanted to be clear where I stood. If you’re wondering, I’m probably going to be going back to waiting to post about the show until it drops. Thanks guys! <3
#this is kind of a weird post#maybe it’s unnecessary#but i wanted to get it off my chest#loki tv series
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Personal Reflection on Hypnosis and Magic
I was fairly obsessed with magic as a child. I grew up in a secular household -- my mother’s side was mixed Christian but she didn’t inherit the beliefs and my father’s side was Jewish but not observant. We did Christmas and Chanukah and Easter for a little while but just as a cultural practice; we never went to church or synagogue and we never even had conversations about God.
I liked fantasy novels a lot, and I liked Harry Potter, and for a bit of time around age 8 I was making a concerted effort to transform into a unicorn. I found sticks outside and pretended they were wands with the neighborhood kids. Fairly standard. It was no surprise that when I started wondering if I should attempt to connect to spirituality in some way as a teen I discovered Neopaganism and Wicca. It was a lot of shy reading in the 130 section at the library and keeping a Book of Shadows and learning how to meditate and all the bells and whistles of ritual and correspondences.
I remember sneaking outside and kneeling in the grass in the backyard under the moon, I remember going to Salem for the first time. I felt like sometimes maybe I was communicating with gods or divine powers but I never was able to buy in, despite completing my year-and-a-day dedication and making the actions a part of my life for several years, on and off. Starting to smoke weed in college refreshed my curiosity and reinforced belief to some degree, of course, but eventually, I had to come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t something I should force myself to do if I didn’t truly feel a connection to it.
But though I dropped the label and identification, the rituals of Wicca (and Feri witchcraft, which I had started exploring) had filled a role for me that childhood religion does for most. They became something I was comfortable conceptualizing, something that I had gained innate familiarity with, even if I ultimately eschewed the spiritual and metaphysical.
Hypnosis was never connected to that, for me; it felt sacrilegious to make an association between something that was supposed to be sacred and divine and something that was, for a long time, a shameful part of my sexuality. But it was around the same time that I was earnestly practicing magic that I began really studying and doing hypnosis.
A partner of mine at that time -- with whom I was doing hypnosis -- asked me, “Isn’t hypnotic trance the same thing as meditation?”
Naively, I vehemently disagreed.
--
The big-name NLP practitioners are obsessed with calling what they do “magic.” “The Structure of Magic,” “Frogs Into Princes,” etc. Their books are filled to the brim with the metaphor that people who use language effectively are wizards, because language is a representation of the world and has the capability to transform (or “trance-form,” as they say).
I struggled with hypnosis for a long time -- both trancing others and being tranced myself -- for a variety of reasons. But one of them was that I always felt like other people wanted to do stuff with hypnosis, while I just wanted to do hypnosis itself. For a while even when I was more comfortable in my skin, I described myself as “boring” -- I liked things like fractionation and really deep trance and control, but I struggled with articulating if I had attractions to specific activities. Doll play? Sure, I guess that’s fun. Oh, is the induction over already? Ok…
This mirrored an issue I had while practicing Wicca -- spells were always meant to do something, invite love, heal, connect with the divine, whatever. But while I often wanted to do magic, I had a difficult time deciding on what to do with it. This was made even more complex when I realized I was likely stuck as a nonbeliever -- why did I sometimes return to the rituals, and what was I trying to achieve? How could I incorporate it into my life without feeling disingenuous?
Even up until a year ago, when I tried out tarot and kept asking the cards, “What is my relationship with magic?” -- twofold, looking for an answer (that never came), as well as to have the opportunity to simply try to read cards when I had no actual pressing questions I could think of (ironic).
Bandler et al, as well, work within a model where goals and change are the purpose of magic.
What I was seeking, the whole time, was not using any of these processes for anything, but simply to feel the thing I felt while doing them that was both difficult to illustrate and uniquely recognizable, unlike anything else.
Once I realized this, I used to try to describe it in hypnosis as that I wanted to focus on the induction, or that I didn’t care what we did, or that “change” wasn’t important to me. But that’s not accurate, either. Transformation, manifestation sates that desire when done in a certain way -- surely then I think that NLP perfectly describes my model?
My hesitation there is that I think for myself, it is the pure exhilaration from doing the thing that is what feels like the sweet spot, and it’s not dependent on what direction it goes, what form it takes, or what goal is being achieved.
For me, that feeling of “doing magic” and “doing hypnosis” are completely interchangeable. It is a pure thrill. It is a specific feeling in my mind and body that I can attempt to describe but can never fully enunciate. It changes and shifts but it is always recognizable on some level.
It is much more like doing recreational drugs than it is about prescribing something. Purely hedonistically, I am seeking a high.
--
I don’t believe in magic. I have had a handful of experiences in my life that have made me deeply question that at times, and they are experiences that I have never reconciled, but that is sort of besides the point. Nothing has ever pushed me into a place where I am able to fully embrace the concept that magic exists in any real sense.
But when I do hypnosis, it is impossible not to work within this model. How else am I supposed to describe what it feels like when I look at someone and know what they are thinking, or I just imagine my will suppressing theirs and their eyes flutter, or I think about what I want and my mouth starts moving elegantly in a way that makes it happen? In kinesthetic hypnosis, it is almost too much. My muscle memory is to do things like manifest energy flowing into and through my fingers, affecting my partner, and it was years of trying rituals like blue fire Feri meditations that made that so easy to feel.
It is not that I can make an easy statement like “hypnosis is magic.” It is not literally true. But as a metaphor, it holds a lot of potency. And magic is a powerful and ubiquitous metaphor; it is culturally ingrained in us in the stories we tell and our history. It is vague; there is no universal definition of it, which allows us to stretch it extensively and apply it wherever we feel it fits.
Metaphor itself is a type of magic, and this is one area where my thoughts about the metaphysical qualities of hypnosis shine through. Magic is about symbolism. We use objects, words, actions that we assign meaning to in order to manifest something. Herbs are purported to have affinities for different concepts so we include them in ritual -- and it’s not just that those affinities are inherent; there is meaning behind the correspondences that works best when we understand it. Similarly, when we are attempting to relate a concept to someone, we often do so indirectly, by telling a story, by creating metaphors or associations.
I don’t believe in magic, so to some degree, when I do it, that action is metaphorical. I am using actions that I don’t literally believe to hold any power in order to find a feeling; I am telling a story about a journey in order to find a real destination. This holds true to one of my beliefs, that symbols themselves hold little to no objective meaning. NLP and Alfred Korzybski say, “The map is not the territory; the word is not the thing; this is not a pipe; there is no objective truth.” Our entire world is made of symbols and metaphors that we all have to buy into in order to function as humans. We assign values to things that intrinsically have much different or nonexistent value -- prices, nostalgia, connotation. A magical symbol, in my eyes, is only as powerful as the connections we’re able to make with it in our minds. Color associations are symbolic. The action of casting a circle is symbolic.
Words are symbols as well, and I do drink the Kool-aid with NLP on this, to some degree. I think about how words are dependent on a vast, intangible amount of variables in order to settle on their presumed, subjective interpretation by a listener or reader. We do this processing as well as thinking about our intent unconsciously, for the most part. If I assume that language is at least partially representative of our experiences and worlds, that gives communication a lot of power, and sure, yes, fine, that smells like magic to me, I’ll take your 20th tired book now Mr. Bandler, sir.
So to some degree the metaphor of magic is about things that are too big, or too grand, or too unknowable to talk about concretely. We often say something is magical when it is difficult or impossible to explain any other way. I can talk plenty about unconscious reading and microexpressions and altered states and language patterns and any number of artifacts that factor into hypnosis, but although it’s fascinating to know about them and helpful to consider and learn, I don’t often think about them when it actually comes down to it. I used to, but not for a while, and there is surely something to be said there for what “becoming experienced” means in both concepts.
It connects to when I think about what things we tend to call “magical” in hypnosis. When I respond without conscious effort, when something is “too fast,” when I feel like I can just purely make someone do something amazing. Sure, it can be easy enough to pick those apart and use academic language and explain them, but sometimes I drive myself insane trying to do that when I just want to say, “It’s magic; it feels like magic.”
--
After leaving my exploration of witchcraft for a while, I ended up adopting parts of it back into my life. I had more connection to the holidays on the Wheel of the Year than any others, really, and Wiccan ritual feels natural to me. I don’t call myself a witch, and I struggled for a long time looking for a label that fits what I do.
When I picked it back up, it was for a Samhain (Halloween) ritual to show my partner. It had been years, but I felt more comfortable casting a circle and doing all the things than I ever had been. I realized that my magic practice had begun to look a lot more like my hypnosis practice. I was speaking and acting unconsciously, simply filtering whispers of my intent through my words and actions. I had no plan and was following no script, but I knew what to do and say. We were both in very deep trance and we could feel the boundary of the circle as a physical thing, the air buzzing. It was the first moment that I had allowed a harmonious marriage between my knowledge of witchcraft and my practice of hypnosis, and I got the druglike thrill that I always seek. We sat in the circle for an hour, unbeknownst to us.
I did some searching to try to find if others had a similar experience or worldview. The best I could describe what I was doing was “psychological magic” or “witchcraft-flavored hypnosis.” I found very little; chaos magic and secular witchcraft were not what I was searching for.
Despite feeling a little lost, the experience reignited my desire for magical ritual. It has always been complicated to go through the motions that logically have no objective power to me, and saying that I give them power feels like a cop-out when I feel like I give them nothing. To some degree, equating it to hypnosis on any level feels like a crutch, but it’s one I’m used to; after all, there is plenty of me that doesn’t really believe in hypnosis, either -- “Hypnosis is bullshit.”
But “spellwork” became the most effortless thing in the world to me when it used to be so careful and unsure and measured. I take my props, I think about what they could symbolize, I think about how they connect to all the other ingredients available to me. I assign value and meaning through those connections and logic in a pattern my brain knows all too well. It is just like manipulation, and I use that to feel things. Creating rituals is just like giving a good suggestion; identify the message of the utterance and craft something poignant and poetic with the tools at hand to give it meaning. In hypnosis, the tools are your place in the story/trance, your vocabulary, the tone, the props, your history and the history of the person you’re with. In magic, the tools are the same, but possibly with a different flavor. A hypnotic tool is the logic that the word “deeper” is a sensory-rich word; a magical tool is the logic that clockwise motion can be equated to “more.” Both tools are malleable.
I mentioned poetry, and I think for me, one of the most important parts of good magic (and good hypnosis) is that it’s beautiful in some way. Wicca, like other religions, puts emphasis on reverence. Even many secular witches will be awed by nature and use that as a motivating force. Magic is not inherently naturalistic for me, even though I borrow the aesthetic. I don’t necessarily seek that kind of divine wonderment, but my attraction is adjacent.
--
My desires with magic are incredibly reflective of my desires with hypnosis -- power. Blind desire for power, whether to have it or have it taken away from me. It sounds evil to write it out, but at its base level it’s much less about anything but a simple feeling. It feels good and heady and awe-filled, and while on some level that’s sexually driven, I think it might also come from another, deeper place.
I still get uncomfortable when magical rituals feel too sensual, and there is a similar discomfort when hypnosis scenes feel too spiritual, but the latter is easier than the former. Generally, I still don’t know “what” to do when I do magic -- I only know “how” to do it. And not to mention “why” I would do magic if I don’t believe in it.
There’s a lot left that I haven’t reconciled. I suppose from a very broad lens, trying to codify the connections I feel between these two concepts is an attempt to make it easier to think about from a variety of different perspectives. I think about how I got over the phase of calling myself “boring” with hypnosis for only seeking feelings, not concepts, and think maybe that will help me with magic. I think about how I became more comfortable over time with my motivations to do hypnosis -- then less comfortable, then more comfortable. A key of my self-growth has always been recognizing and accepting my cyclical nature. (Wicca might say something about moon phases or a myriad of other natural cycles here; hypnosis and NLP might say something about patterns.)
To some degree, these kinds of explorations are valuable because they force us to limit our frames of reference as well. I barely touched upon connected ideas like religion or kink as a whole, how teaching and writing play in, my skill with self-hypnosis (surprisingly low) or connection to mesmerism/magnetism, and so much more. But it’s approaching nebulous concepts like this in a variety of different ways where we find answers, because often we don’t really even know what questions we should be asking.
--
I hope you enjoyed this piece! There was of course a lot I wanted to say and I’m very interested if this sparks any ideas or conversations -- when I first talked about this on Twitter, I was happily surprised how many folks had some similar thoughts or experiences and wanted to relate.
If you liked this writing and want to see more, you can find similar pieces available on Patreon or Gumroad; I write 6-8k words per month, sometimes academic and sometimes more exploratory like this. Please check it out! You can also get this writing as a downloadable PDF and tip through Gumroad, if you feel so inclined.
Thanks as always for your support, no matter what form that takes, be it monetary or simply reading through what I have to say.
- sleepingirl
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