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#I wear Burberry her if you’re wondering
headcannonxgalore · 2 years
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☾☾☾Hello! Hope you enjoy what you’re about to read, I would appreciate it if you like, and reblog my work here on tumblr. Please do not share my work anywhere else, and if you see it has been, or someone is claiming the work as their own please tell me. My master list is linked in my bio! My ao3 is pinned to my page ☽☽☽
Heaven
Pairings: Joseph Quinn x Black!oc
Genre: romance, causal vibes, cheesy romantic behavior.
Tags: @evans-heaven I meant to tag them on the first chapter but I forgot. The vibe/theme from their fic inspired mine so thank you.
Warnings: none
Word count: 4k
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Chapt. 2
It’s been a few weeks since I joined the Strangers Things cast, and what a wonderful experience it has been. Joseph, Jamie and I have gotten quite close, though I spend more time with Joseph. Netflix wanted us to start being seen together more often because of our characters, but I have no complaints.
“Wassup babes.” I skipped towards him as he stands outside his trailer on the phone, at the sound of my voice his head pops up. He smiled at me brightly, and reached out his arms to me offering a hug. Of course I accept it leaning into him, some of the make up, and special effects people are walking around. They wave a hand, and say hello to us as they pass by. Everyone is used to Joseph, and I being this way with each other. Always hugging, touching, and complementing one another.
“You still filming today, or are you too lazy to get changed?” A pleasant breeze blows by tickling my skin, his arms hanging loosely around my shoulders.
“I have some stuff with Jamie in a little while, he’s getting his Vecna suit on, and then I’ll be done. What about you?” I chuckled at the thought of Jamie walking around our mundane set looking like he stepped right out of the screen, and into 2022.
“I’ve got some small things to film as well, and then I’m done. I’m just waiting for them to come get me, have you eaten yet?” Joseph's set clothes for Eddie didn’t smell like him, and it made me a bit sad. Heusually wears expensive cologne like Burberry, or Versace. Eddie Munson however wore axe body spray, and masculine scents, which isn’t bad. Just not my favorite type for him, I snuggle under his arms deeper watching him scroll through Twitter, and some of his text messages.
“No, I don’t eat while working, it makes me sluggish, wanna go out when we’re done?” At the mention of food my stomach grumbles, Joseph’s eyes widens as he looks at me, then he bursts out into laughter.
“Good lord, let’s hope this goes quickly for you, yeah?”
“Shut up.” I push off him, and he laughs even harder, his smile easily causing one to turn up on my own face. He tries to catch his breath by leaning over with his hands on his knees. I just watch him, and wait for his laughter to stop, but it doesn't.
“It sounded like Vecna was in your tummy.” Joseph cracked up again, and I couldn’t help but giggle at his silliness. This is the best part of my job for me, hanging out with such lighthearted, and easygoing friends. Theater actors are always stressed, and pint up. Rarely do I meet someone as genuine as Joseph, Jamie, and the others.
“You’re stupid.” I chuckled, eventually his laughing fit came to an end, taking a deep breath standing upward. Tears are in his eyes, and his face a deep cherry red. A smile still pressed onto my face, I wiped away the wetness of his cheeks with the sleeve of my sweater.
“Oh boy that was great, it truly was.”
“Hey Mimi, we’re ready for you on the set.” Angela, one of many production managers, comes from around a corner of one of the many trailers. A bright smile on her face as always, and my script in hand.
“Text me when you’re done, I’ll come to your trailer or you can come to mine, whoever's done first.” Joseph squeezed me in for one last hug, then let me go, Angela handed me the thin packet of papers. We’re only focusing on one scene today, my master copy is at home, when I opened it I saw all my parts were highlighted. Matt and Ross had scribbled little notes here, and there for me. Small changes in the dialogue, nothing major, but I did see where they added a part that said I’m going to get harnessed.
“Mirin, how’s your morning?” Matt approached me as I walked into the Hawkins High School set. There’s extras, and production people scattered around putting finishing touches on things. Millie, and Sadie can be heard laughing not too far from where we stood.
“Pretty great, got my jog in, I’m ready for da action.” I shift my weight back, and forth as anticipation oozes from my pours. Doing a scene with Jamie always excited me, he’s such a great person to work with because he never breaks character.
“That's great, so you’re ready to get thrown around? Get you into a harness, and it’s gonna be great yeah?” Matt patted me on the shoulder, his other hand raised giving me a thumbs up. I giggle and shake my head, I see Jamie Vecna enter the school, but he doesn’t say anything to anyone. He just stands off to the side watching with his arms folded surveying the room. A chill runs down my spine as he turns to me almost as if he sensed I was watching him.
“That’s not Jamie.” I hear Millie cry from somewhere near me, she has tears forming in her eyes, she takes a step back. A look of genuine terror on her face, but Jamie has his eyes set on me as I stand next to Matt.
“Mirin, are you ready?” He says in that terrifying voice of his, my name came out almost as a snarl, like he chewed it up, and spit it out. Utter disgust in his eyes, I fully turned my body to him standing my ground. Micheal, the technical assistant that’s in charge of all the action equipment comes to attach my harness on, but stops in his tracks upon seeing Jamie and I’s interaction. Turning to Micheal, a hint of a smirk on my lips, “time to me get lifted.”
Jamie doesn’t break his eye contact with me, he reaches out his large hand to me slowly, and just before he can touch my face Ross calls to us, breaking up our moment. “Hmph” Jamie grunted at me, and he slithered away without another word, if I wasn’t fired up before I definitely was then.
“Alright I know you’re ready for action now so let’s get to it.” Matt pushed me off towards the middle of the gym, I went to stand on my mark, the lights dim significantly darker than before, and they called action.
a/n: the scenes now starting, everything in italics is the setting, what’s happening in the scene or stage directions. Bold will be their names, and their dialogue will follow. The following is not from the show at all, I made it up, and somewhat follows the plots of my own fics.
Cheryl waited for Eddie to bring her the cup of punch he promised to her. The music in the gym could be heard throughout the whole school, couples continued to dance, laugh, and have a good time. She waited awkwardly for Eddie swaying slowly side to side by herself to the rather fast paced song.
Cheryl: Ugh where is he, it’s one cup of juice.
Cheryl turns her head in the direction he walked off in, the refreshments table is empty, in fact that whole side of the gym is desolate. When she turned back to the dance floor, they were gone too, as well as Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan. The once vibrant, happy music, and disco lights are now distorted.
Cheryl: Shit, you just had to pick prom night didn’t you Henry.
Vecna happened to just appear in the gym, moving so slowly stalking towards her as if she’s prey.
Vecna: Cheryl Sinclair, I admire you, and your bravery. You make good on your name “The Brain.” Though tonight I am curious to see how much your heart can take.
On cue, screaming and a stream of curses can be heard from the other side of the gym. A large Demogurgan comes thumping into the gymnasium, dragging an angry Mike Wheeler in tow. She had never seen one so large, it had to be at least 7 ft tall, walking on two long legs as if it’s developed past its four legged stage.
Mike: Let go of me you piece of shit!
Cheryl: No…
Vecna: Yes, this was the right choice. If you are the brain of the group, Mike Wheeler is the heart.
The Demogurgan threw Mike down at the feet of Vecna, and then kneeled down at one knee by its master's side. Cheryl went to try to grab Mike, but her body couldn’t move. With one hand he kept Cheryl in her place, and with the other he commanded Mike’s body forward. The whole time she screams, and begs for him to stop. Pat Benatar can be heard blasting in the empty gym, and Cheryl can see the portal to the other side opening. Eddie, Steve, and Nancy hover over her body freaking out.
Cheryl: You cruel son of a bitch! Don’t do this! Take me! Take me! (She drops to her hands and knees, tears flowing from her eyes, and down her cheeks)
Not once since meeting him did Cheryl ever see Vecna smile, or show any signs of joy. It wasn’t until this moment as he witnessed Cheryl Sinclair finally break did he feel…satisfied. All she could see was Eleven’s face, and think about how broken she’ll be. Her heart will never heal, and if it does, there will be cracks and cuts.
Vecna: No, it has to be this way, you have to see how it is a burden to carry the weight of others. How will you fix Little Eleven’s saddens? How will you make it better? How will you stop her from hating you when you did nothing, could do nothing to save him. Heavy is the head eldest Sinclair.
Without a second thought Vecna broke both Mike’s legs, and arms one at a time. Cheryl screamed and cried, she begged and fought against the invisible force field that kept her from saving her friend. Why is this happening to her? Why does he keep targeting her? Why? By the time Vecna was done Mike looked completely broken, and he dropped his body to the ground like a toy. Cheryl let out a scream so deafening it paused Vecna’s movements, and somehow she’s free from his hold. Unaware of Eleven seeing the whole thing, the young teens hand is holding onto Cheryl’s shoulder from the other side. The Demogurgan moved into a defensive position, and right as he charged, Cheryl held her hands out. Suddenly it’s head is pulled clean off his body, and it drops to the floor. Before Cheryl had a chance to turn to Vecna, he put his hand out and flicked it towards her, sending her flying into the open portal and back to her world…
“Cut! That was fantastic!” Matt Duffer shouted from behind the camera rig, it took me a moment to step out of Cheryl’s head space. My breathing is still heavy, and my cheeks are wet. Suddenly I feel arms wrapping around my waist from the back of me, I turn around to see it’s Millie clinging to me.
“That was god awful, let’s not do it again.” Millie sniffled, fake blood drying under her nose, I hugged her back tightly pressing her into me. She’s honestly so sweet, and it upsets me when the media, and “fans” give her such a hard time. Millie is still just a kid even though she’s 18, and they sometimes expect her to be perfect.
“Yea I second that, are good?” Much like our characters, Millie, and I are close like sisters. We talk, and text all the time; all the girls have a group chat we talk to each other in.
“Hey guys.” Finn greets us, in a nonchalant tone as usual, he has his goofy moments, but it’s usually when Gaten, and the other boys are around.
“Wow I guess you’re dead now dude.” My arm is hanging around Millie's shoulder, and hers is still wrapped around me.
“I know, kinda messed up how Vec killed me.” He shook his head, a hand to his chest, and whipped a fake tear from his eyes. Millie chuckles, putting a hand on his shoulder, I shake my head, I can see the Duffers making their way to us.
“We will avenge you my friend, you won’t die in vain.” She jokes, Finn smiles at the gesture.
“Nice work today as always, Mirin, Finn we’re all done with you guys, so you can enjoy the rest of your day. Millie, some lunch, and then back to work, sounds cool?” Ross explains briefly, we all say our goodbyes, and go our separate ways. I take a deep breath letting it go slowly, Cheryl’s personality still clinging on to me. I see Joe Keery, and Gaten Matarazzo driving through in a golf cart.
“Aye yo taxi!” I shout at them, they're kind enough to stop for me, both Joe, and Gaten wearing matching Ray Bans sunglasses.
“Afternoon little lady, hop on in.” Joe turns his head to me lazily, the shades are so dark I’m unable to see any traces of his eyes.
“Thank you my bros, how goes it today?” I’m able to squeeze on the end of the seat next to Gaten, his hair a long curly mess, and a hat over it to keep the wind from possibly frizzing it up.
“It’s chill, riding around to see what we can get into, and waiting to get called to set.” Gaten scrolls through his phone looking at nothing important. I wish I could have taken my phone with me, but I’m so easily distracted by it. It’s better off being locked away while I’m working.
“That’s my stop right up here, thank Joey, see ya later gator.” I hopped out of their Golf Cart, and waved them goodbye. Upon entering the trailer, I see a sleeping Joseph passed out on my couch, and Brenda, my hair and make-up person, setting up her things.
“He got here before me, and he’s been passed out sense” Brenda informed, I chuckled as he snored lightly, I didn’t think I was gone long, but apparently I was.
“Alright Brenda, take Cheryl off so I can be me again please.” I plop down in my chair, sighing hard, a feeling of exhaustion hitting me.
“Music?” She asked, by now Brenda, and I had gotten to know each other well. She always knows what I need to decompress after a scene, especially the heavy ones. She turns on the Bluetooth speaker sitting off to the side, and I hit shuffle on my music.
“I’ve been out for quite a while haven’t I?” Joseph said yawning, he stretched his body out over the sofa, and then came to sit in the chair next to me. His lips turn upwards into a soft sleepy smile, I miss him having facial hair. I would sometimes stroke the hair on his upper lip with my finger, and Joseph would call me a weirdo. Those are things we did in private, a really intimate thing to be doing when we’re not officially together. However, that’s Joe’s and I vibe, and we know how we feel, that’s all that matters to us.
“Uh yea, literally laying dead on my couch, such a pleasant thing to walk in on after watching Finn die.” I chortled, he chuckled lightly at my comment, his eyes still on me as he watched Brenda wipe away my many layers of makeup.
My phone is going off like crazy, I see Netflix had posted a picture of Jamie’s, and I face off before filming. I smirked, he really was in it, and looking from this angle it seemed as if my eyes shined with challenge.
“What do you want for lunch, little miss?” Joseph drummed his fingers on my knee, his hands feeling warm, and soft. When Brenda turned her back to go through her hair bag, his hand squeezed my knee.
“Hmm, I don’t know, I had a taste for a burger, or chicken sandwich.” Joseph hums in response, that’s another favorite thing of mine about him, he loves to eat. Since we don’t have a strict diet for the show we can pretty much eat whatever. I still work out when I can, but it’s not necessary.
“Burgers and fries it is then babes. Ugh I’m getting a call, I’ll let you change, I’ll be right outside.” He kisses me on the temple, and bids Brenda a goodbye. Once the door is closed, Brenda gives me a knowing look through the mirror infront of me as she removes my wig.
“You still gonna lie to me about y’all not dating?”
“We’re not! Just close, Joe’s a good guy, friends is all.” I protested against her accusations, though the grin on my face is undeniable.
“Mhm sure…friends.” She playfully rolls her eyes, and puts me under the hair dryer. Since I’ll be off for the next two weeks, I can wear whatever hairstyle I want as long as I don’t cut, or dye it. Brenda is putting my hair in a nice silk press for the week ahead.
I popped my head out the trailer, Joseph is still outside the door, a bored expression on his face, I wasn’t too sure what he was looking at. Turning back to grab my phone, purse, and give Brenda a goodbye hug, I carefully stepped down the three stairs.
“I’m ready, how do I look?” His head snapped up, those beautiful brown eyes I loved so much.
“Gorgeous dawling.” Joseph’s accent draws out, my heart skips a beat from the way he looks at me. Eyes shining brightly with adoration as they sweep over me, and take me in. We start a walk towards the car lot with our arms linked together, the silence that falls is a comfortable one, and since we did so much talking already today it’s nice to just relax.
Like the gentleman he is, Joseph opens the car door for me, and waits for me to get all the way in to close it for me. Then he slides into the driver's seat of his Mercedes, and starts the car. The radio comes blasting on, and to my surprise I hear my own voice singing back to me. I turn to look at him, Joseph scrambles to turn the radio off, and doesn’t dare meet my eyes. His lips pressed together trying to hide the smile growing onto his face. His cheeks lightly flushed, he slowly turns to me with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Joey…were you listening to my music?” A playful tone in my voice, my head tilted backwards, and my hand pressed to my chest.
“I…may have gotten a little curious…when I was on your Instagram I saw you just released a solo, I couldn’t help myself.” He tries to explain, but it’s looking like he’s listened to more than one song. When I look at the recent plays they’re all my songs, like old stuff I released two years ago.
“Liar, you’re a fan…you like Krabby Patties don’t you Squidward.” I teased, we both burst out into laughter, and Joseph just shakes his head as he no longer can deny me.
“Of course I’m a fan, you’re amazing.” Grabbing my hand he brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. I have to scream in my head we’re just friends, and this is Joseph’s way of showing affection. Our eyes linger on each other before I look away, I had to, because he wasn’t.
Our lunch is going amazingly, Joseph and I were laughing, and talking the whole time. It felt good to just enjoy my day, without having to think about work, the wind would blow past us every now and then as we sat outside. Thankfully since season 4 hadn’t come out yet, we don’t get too many fans bothering us.
“By next month isn’t going to be a whirlwind you know that right?” I asked, I took a sip of my ice water, and leaned back in my seat.
“Ugh I know, it's going to get so crazy I can feel it creeping up on me.” He steals a few of my fries which I don’t mind because I wasn’t eating them anyway. I think about his character Eddie, and how amazing of a job Joseph has done with him.
“They’re gonna eat Eddie up, I just know it. He’s going to be the most beloved character, and it’s going to be absolutely nuts once they meet him.” A corner of my mouth turned upwards, Joseph watched me from his side of the table, a content gaze, and his chin resting in his palm.
“Yeah, I think I really lucked up with Eddie, I went in for Steve, and the Duffers gave me something even better.” Joseph says softly, his tone kind, and appreciative.
“Most definitely, but you made Eddie into something of your own, and it was your creativity that is going to give so many other people a sense of relatability. You’ve created something very special Joey.” I knew Joseph didn’t take compliments well, he’s incredibly humble, but I have to give him these roses of adoration.
“And you with Cheryl, you’re way more…talented. You take her to a whole new level, I love seeing you perform across from me.”
“Listen if you wanna talk about someone who’s talented–”
I started to say but he cut me off, his hands pressed together, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling.
“No, noo, don’t do this. We’re not gonna have a competition to see who can out complement the other, because I will win. Love, I’m British, charm is my specialty.” I was about to argue his point when he reached over the table, grabbed my hand, and looked me in my eyes.
“Mirin Washington, you’re a talented actor, singer, and dancer. A wonderful baker, you are loving, and protective over all your friends. When you walk into a room all the faces light up with joy, I mean you’re absolutely stunning. Trust me when I say I speak from the heart.” Joseph ended his little speech with a small smile, he closed his other hand over mine, and I was utterly speechless. How often does he think of these things? Or do they come to him naturally.
I sank back in my seat, there’s no way I could match that, and I was too full of food to try.
“Shit you’re good.” I nod my head deciding not to put up an argument. Just then I get a text from Terry saying he had to park a little ways up from the restaurant, and that he’ll come get me, and walk me to the car. Then I have a stream of messages from a bunch of other friends, and such. Kathleen had texted me to remind me about her Women's History Month Celebration, and how I needed to buy an outfit.
“Uh oh, you’re pouting, what’s the matter sweetheart?”
“I have to go, I’m turning in early, I’ve got some meetings tomorrow morning.” We both stood up, a saddened expression on our faces, we were having such a good time that I didn’t want it to end.
“Hey Mirin, Joe. Are you ready, do you need a few more moments?” Terry asked politely, as quiet as it’s kept he’s quite good at giving relationship advice, and is a great listener over all. I don’t talk to many other people about Joseph, most of the time when we’re around strangers or doing small appearance’s we’re a lot more low key. He doesn’t touch me as much, and we both try to spread our love and adoration with our other co-stars.
“Nah I’m gonna let you go now so you can get some rest, we can hang out tomorrow after you’re done.” Joseph pulled me into a tight hug, I knew he worked out a little but damn his arms are crushing me.
“Joe…I can’t breathe.”
“Good.” He says humming, and then lets me good. He kisses me on my forehead, and lets me be on my way. Terry wordlessly opens the back seat for me, and swiftly gets into the front, then pulls off.
“You guys are so cute.” Terry coos playfully, a small smirk on his lips, I roll my eyes looking at my phone. There’s a ton of guys that’s dm me trying to hook up, but there’s only one man I have my eye on right now.
“Shut up.” I chuckle, I had fallen asleep on the car ride home, and when he pulled into the driveway Terry helped me out of the car. He carried me all the way up to the house and onto my couch by way of piggyback. He pats me on the head, and lets me be. After a minute I drag myself to the bathroom to remove all of my make up, shower, and hop in the bed. As I sleepily scroll through my phone, a text message from Joseph pops up.
💗Joey: you looked stunning today, can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
My heart squeezed with love, as I turned over, and passed out.
a/n: I’m sorry not sorry for the cheesy romantic stuff lol I love it.
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ssbeauty1 · 1 month
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The Best Perfume To Wear Based On Your Zodiac Sign
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fiskergorman64 · 2 years
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tilleystrong4 · 2 years
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replica burberry scarf 24
Replica Burberry Scarves Replica,Good And Low Cost,1 While we completely love a good Burberry scarf, they’re quite expensive (like $500 expensive). There is no doubt that the quintessential Burberry examine pattern on their scarves are the most recognizable within the world! But is it worth it to pay a high price-tag for his or her scarf? Why do you've got to pay extra when you will get the actual same thing at a price that's means cheaper? Our Burberry scarf knock off is manufactured from the exact same materials as an authentic one. Pictured below is the inside of a Burberry scarf tag. I discover this submit utterly strange and yet fascinating. I am befuddled as to what occurred along with your transaction on eBay. So, right me if I misunderstand this but, somebody hacked received into the seller’s account to sell, and in addition hacked into their Paypal account to take the $, and the hacker is the one who sent the item?? And you then apparently received a message from a hacker to ship the item back to a bogus address?? This is SO weird on so many levels, above and beyond the authenticity of the headband itself. Here you'll discover inspiration and hope about all matters in life – style, psychological well being, relationships, heroes, and frankly, a lot of my random ideas. https://phoenet.tw/replica-scarfs-shawls/replica-burberry-cashmere-scarf.html Let this space be someplace you can come when you’re feeling misplaced – whenever you need fun – when you have not any idea what to wear – how to do your hair – or when you can’t remember why life is gorgeous. If you're taking something away from right here – it’s that no matter the situation, you're by no means alone. The inspiration you want is closer than you assume. In fact, it might have been proper inside you all along. So, verify off your vacation gifting list, or deal with yourself to a luxury-looking scarf. Burberry’s basic cashmere scarves are made in Scotland at two historic mills within the cities of Elgin and Ayr. Each scarf is labored on by 18 artisans and undergoes 30 totally different manufacturing processes. The font of all Burberry products could be the only greatest method to sniff out a knock-off. Each time “Burberry” is written on the headscarf, its tags, or packaging, the font ought to at all times be the same, and the letters ought to be capitalized. The official image for the company is a clearly-printed “Equestrian Knight” character that's shown on the tag of each scarf offered. Find Burberry trench coats, sneakers, purses and different accessories on 1stDibs. Universally famend for its trench coats, footwear, leather-based goods and different equipment, luxurious British fashion home Burberry has undergone several transformations since its inception within the nineteenth century. If you need assistance with the authentication of your Burberry scarf, we’ve got you covered. That is why we now have compiled this quick 60 seconds solution to authenticating your Burberry scarf. Below are the highest four indicators that may help you decide when you have a fake or actual Burberry scarf. Burberry would never use thread that didn’t blend in, and would by no means leave a loose thread sticking out like we saw on the fake scarf. I tried to get a detailed up so you can see the distinction in the weave. Notice how the cashmere material of the real Burberry scarf appears extra plush and bit fuzzier. The fake Burberry scarf does feel very soft, however not fairly as delicate as the real scarf on the right. This was a wonderful and informative post Susan. Over 13 years ago I ordered fairly an costly watch on ebay and when I went to a jeweler who specialised within the model to have the band adjusted I was advised it was a fake. At that time Ebay didn’t have a a reimbursement guarantee so I discovered a hard lesson. It's crafted from a lightweight and luxurious mix of mohair and silk and finished wit... This beautiful and very classic Burberry silk satin scarf is most likely from the 60's. It is a good size and has not been cleaned from the original proprietor.This is a magnificence and could be... I am rounding up ten of one of the best low-cost Burberry scarf dupes, Burberry inspired scarves, and Burberry look alikes. Are you on the lookout for that iconic Burberry design scarf without the Burberry price? The stylish and simple pattern is so recognizable nearly wherever, that everybody desires one. Then apparently they used their sellers account that had such good feedback, to promote their fraudulent wares. That’s only a guess from the e-mail I received from eBay. No, I didn’t get any messages from the hacker. The email I got was from eBay telling me they had canceled the transaction. I guess the original vendor will must have seen he was locked out of his account of something…not certain. Every buy is equivalent to planting 0.three trees Every £50 spent on style merchandise lead to 24kg of carbon dioxide It takes 3000 litres of water on average to create one cotton shirt. This label is much more different than the earlier ones. The genuine tag is type of textureless, smooth, and even whereas the fake one is all striped. First of all, the standard of the fabric used for the fake label is different- it has to have the same texture as the tag in the left picture. The Italian authorities lastly modified their legal guidelines to clamp down on this problem. Now, they will prosecute the BUYER, normally an affluent vacationer. wikipedia scarf That fluffy look that the genuine scarf has is already misplaced. Gucci Fringed Web Stripe ScarfInstantly recognizable as a Gucci type, the Fringed Web Stripe Scarf presents an Italian crafted reply to drops in the temperature. The green, red and tan colorway promotes the Florence-based fashion house’s high-end aesthetic while the perimeter trim seals the deal.
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silverlanghoff30 · 2 years
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Christian Dior Vibe Ad Marketing Campaign
If you’re a sucker for the plaid print, do this Burberry scarf instead. The shade adds a novel twist to the unique design. It makes it a statement accent, which helps your outfit quite than overpowers it. Maybe this was cool again in 2016, but now it’s time for those large monogram belts to retire peacefully. Yes, your Hermes and Louis Vuitton Belts must also transfer to Florida and start golf with its barely more affordable Gucci sibling. wikipedia belt It’s within the third or the middle hole the place you should wear the buckle. Check above Waist size to EU belt measurement to US belt size conversion chart to get the proper measurement. When measuring in inches, go 2 inches up as a rule of thumb. Dior’s collection definitively declared that opulence, luxury and femininity have been in. When considering back over the thrilling aspects of 2021, one that comes to mind is the scenes born out of the countless exhibits and collections the style world handled us to. And, while there were many must-buy items that stuffed out the gathering of our favourite designers, none caught our eyes quite like Dior‘s Vibe bags. In 1994, Paola Fendi handed over the presidency of the corporate to her youthful sister Carla. Silvia Venturini Fendi, daughter of Anna, also joined the style home in 1994 and has since been the inventive director for accessories and men's traces. It is slightly similar to GUCCI GG leather belt at the first sight, nevertheless, the hardware of Dior is glossier than GUCCI’s, and it's more simple and chic. We counsel you pair this belt together with your costume and fits. GUCCI has a variety of sizes of this classic belt, and the most popular width is 2cm and 3cm. If you don’t know which width of a belt perfects you, we propose you choose 3cm because it virtually fits everyone. The only draw back to getting this belt was the shopping for process. The strap sold out in my measurement the day I went to purchase it so decided to buy the buckle in brass earlier than it offered out too. The eye-catching CD gold-finish steel buckle elevates the look of this belt. phoenet.tw replica dior belt This belt seems like leather-based without the animal product. The touch of silver or gold accents rounds out this classic-looking belt. Wide belts like this one from suede and gilt steel are great for cinching the waist dramatically to indicate off your curves. The iconic Loewe anagram is prominently featured as a buckle on this easy calfskin belt. As we said in the previous post, a great belt can work wonders in looking from boring to attention-grabbing and from uninspired to unforgettable. You can wear a belt to pair with your trousers, clothes, suits, coats, and so forth. We can not add this item to your bag because it’s already at max capacity. It shall be higher should you can attempt it before you purchase. The good news is that GUCCI presents punch holes in a belt for free, you would fix it if you purchase the mistaken measurement. High quality leather-based with high gloss finising on belt buckle. The Dior Caro belt pouch is a hybrid and elegant accent. Crafted in supple calfskin with Cannage stitching, it has a 'CD' signature flap. The adjustable chain permits the pouch to be worn on the waist or crossbody, while the adjustable leather band offers a cushty shoulder or crossbody wear, making it a perfect day or night accent. Shades-wise, expect the favored 0N, 1N, and 2N, along with the addition of an all-new shade — the 00 — solely created for the gathering. The case can also be refillable, which means you'll be able to easily swap in a refill as soon as you’re out. The home of Fendi was launched in 1926 by Adele and Edoardo Fendi as a fur and leather shop in Via del Plebiscito, Rome. From 1946, the 5 sisters Paola, Anna, Franca, Carla and Alda joined the corporate in its second technology as a family-owned enterprise and each owned 20 percent.
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qvistwheeler9 · 2 years
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Burberry Belt Merchandise For Sale
We propose you to make use of saleratus, white vinegar, oxide, and some kinds of soda, combine them along to formulate a cheap nonetheless effective rust remover. Though you’ll have the ability to perpetually use these which are already blended rust remover however perpetually bear in mind to browse the label for any precaution of some sort. Likewise, in case you’re the sort of particular person who is aware of timetables, sprinkler installers can give you assesses on their sprinkler backflow. wikipedia handbags Sign up for e mail updates on the newest svip2u collections, campaigns and movies. Shop our extensive range of designer footwear, we now have one thing for everybody. Shackleton was not the first explorer who was impressed by Burberry's weatherproof clothes. In 1893, Norwegian polar explorer Dr. Fritjof Nansen was the primary explorer to bring Burberry's gabardine material to one of many poles when he headed to the Arctic Circle. According to the Philippine Tatler, Burberry's gabardine was also the fabric of selection for Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen. [newline]Amundsen was the primary individual to make it to the South Pole, and he did so while wearing Burberry. Far from promoting luxurious items, Burberry founder Thomas Burberry focused on outfitting people for the outdoors when he first opened his store. In March 2021, Burberry was the first luxury model to be targeted in China as a half of the backlash concerning sanctions in opposition to the systematic human rights abuses and genocide in Xinjiang. Brand ambassador and Actress Zhou Dongyu terminated her contract with Burberry. I simply wonder how the belt works, it looks impractical. It’s a cute bag and would have potential however the prices aren’t matching. If the belt transformed to a shoulder strap then I would understand the aim otherwise, I don’t like the look. The emblem design is harmonized and seems stylish and skilled, reflecting the famous style house’s best elements and accenting its immense experience and experience in attire manufacture. The 1999 redesign balances the brand, making the emblem larger and the inscription a bit smaller. For over 100 years, Burberry’s visible id has been portrayed by an equestrian alongside together with his charging horse. The iconic emblem hasn’t changed a lot all through Burberry’s existence, but the company opted to make a significant change in 2018, eradicating the equestrian from the prominent emblem. Any gadgets you click or purchase through hyperlinks on our website could earn us a fee. According to the Burberry web site, it didn't come about till nicely into the company's historical past, first appearing round 1901. The emblem, which is of an equestrian knight, options the word "prosum," which is Latin for "forwards." Gabardine is made of "tightly woven, mild cotton fabric." Each thread is wind and waterproof, because of being coated in a weatherproof coating. You might help offset the carbon emissions of packaging, supply, and potential returns out of your order with a contribution to Climate Partner. They are our chosen independent associate and recognized skilled in local weather protection. The contribution is in addition to Mytheresa’s commitment to function carbon neutrally. You can discover extra details about Climate Partner and the project you help right here. At Mytheresa we all the time try to seek out environmentally friendly solutions for a luxurious shopping experience. To make sure your buttons are DOUBLY secure, thread a jumpring (as large as you bought, would not matter what color) by way of every shank on the wrong facet of the belting. fake burberry belt From soccer terraces to wartime trenches, Burberry’s story is a compelling one in British style historical past. Now, with Riccardo Tisci appointed the model new head artistic officer, it’s set to change course and face the longer term with confidence. Now, Burberry continues to go from power to power and faces its future with a lot of innovation and confidence. Below, let’s take a look at the phoenix-like story of Burberry and why it’s one of the most in style and recognized luxurious style brands on the planet. The present Burberry brand was designed in 2018 and displays the new era of the model. It portrays a youthful and modern method to design, emphasizing the energetic and progressive character of the fashion house and its inclination to follow the latest trends and make them. There’s no stopping the summer and the vibe it brings by the late spring heat. This is once we prefer to play outdoor or take pleasure in our patios and not have to fret about getting chilly like the past winter. In spite of the fact that mid-year can be a substantial amount of fun, it could likewise involve garden duties to your mortgage holder. Burberry products are sold by way of Burberry.com, in Burberry stores and at chosen authorized department stores, retailers and specialty stores. Most Burberry belts are produced from leather, and come in clean, grainy or monogram finishes. Some are created from the brand’s e-canvas, which is constructed using renewable resources that require much less water and create much less CO2 than normal coated canvases. There are some items that come in a mixture of both fabrics for a novel distinction of texture, or a woven material that's sturdy with just the appropriate quantity of stretch. Offering a more impartial tackle Burberry’s iconic examine, this Italian-made black and grey belt makes it straightforward to work pattern into your accessories collection.
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burkszamora8 · 2 years
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Robbers Make Off With $54k In Ysl Handbags From San Francisco Store
The Sunset bag has one open exterior pocket, an open interior pocket, and two inside compartments, making it easy to organize your day by day necessities. The faculty tote is likely one of the hottest in the current Saint Laurent collection and has developed a cult-following amongst celebrities together with Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Jessica Alba, and Olivia Culpo. Saint Laurent baggage are actually some of the most sought after on the earth and are regularly seen on the arms of celebrities and style bloggers. The robbers, three men and two ladies, took off in an SUV. If you’re shopping for a model new pair of Stuart Weitzman over the knee boots, Burberry boots, and extra, you’re in luck! You can stand up to a $600 Neiman Marcus gift card in your purchase of shoes and apparel. I made certain and featured a couple of favorites and a few I’m coveting within the Shop The Post widget. Because it’s ultracompact, the Envelope works greatest as a night bag or for events when one only wants to hold the bare necessities. https://skel.io/ysl-replica-bags.html With a zipper closure and an exterior again pocket, the ‘Lou’ bag is the perfect first bag for anybody trying to begin investing in luxurious handbags. You can jump on the mini-bag pattern with the ‘Lou’ camera bag, which is throughout Instagram. This bag is ideal for a time out purchasing or to wear on a night out with your folks. Available in four sizes at Saks Fifth Avenue, the Niki bag is amongst the most versatile within the Saint Laurent lineup. The ‘Nikki’ takes a classic design and makes it contemporary through using crinkled leather and monochrome colours. Its three interior compartments make this a go-to day bag, whether you’re headed to the office or out operating errands. Saint Laurent are high fashion purse innovators, accessorizing ladies the world over with collections of ultra-glamorous totes, clutches, wallets and shoulder luggage. Renowned for lavish coloured leathers and conversation-starting elaborations, you’ll need emerald-hued suede, flamingo pink croc skin and fabulous Wild West-inspired fringing. By blurring gender-specific design, he empowered particular person style whereas creating a scissor-sharp fashion aesthetic of sensual ease and wonder. Many of his designs are at present thought of timeless classics. A traditional Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche tote in beige/brown. It is produced from elegant brown ombre leather and perfectly accented with gold-tone hardware. Today, purse lovers are savvier and have a wider vary of purchasing choices. Satisfy your wanderlust in opulent type with this compact lambskin leather shoulder bag adorned with an assemblage of souvenir-style pins. A YSL women’s bag will carry you from the break of dawn till dusk; perfect on your workday, the opera, a movie, cocktails, or a very special occasion. Pair a YSL black clutch or YSL crossbody bag with a shocking pair of Saint Laurent footwear, or place a small YSL bag inside a roomier tote for easy transitional use. Yves Saint Laurent is known for the saying, "Chanel freed ladies, and I empowered them." The younger, but experienced designer had an eye for menswear on ladies —he knew tips on how to match the feminine figure in more masculine silhouettes in a means that highlighted her sexuality and figure in new ways. With the 680,000 francs Dior paid Saint Laurent beneath breach of contract he promptly invested into his own brand a yr, together with Jesse Mack Robinson, from whom Bergé negotiated an investment of $70,000. In his first assortment in January 1962, Saint Laurent launched a women’s peacoat that was impressed by naval uniforms. Perfect for a night out, the oblong Kate shoulder bag is decorated with the gold YSL monogram and a tassel. Although Yves Saint Laurent formally stepped down from his eponymous house in 2002, numerous notable names in design helmed completely different sectors of the label. The late Alber Elbaz was charged with women’s ready-to-wear, which he designed for three seasons from 1998 to 1999. Practical for every day, elegant delight Saint Laurent tote in brown canvas. wikipedia handbags The inside is brown satin with a large zipped pocket. Saint Laurent Loulou Quilted Leather YSL Bag in New with out tags condition. Black chevron quilted calfskin leather exterior trimmed with sparkling silver hardware. It’s onerous to suppose about a YSL bag with out immediately picturing the Envelope. This bag is as versatile as it will get, its silhouette taking the type of a slimline shoulder bag, clutch, or wristlet.
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chomelton76 · 2 years
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Burberry Replica Purses Why Get Them
"In the mid-2000s, the proper wing British tabloid media coined the offensive time period ‘chav’ to explain the white working class within the U.K.," Leigh tells Refinery29 of the first time he began to note the prevalence of those copies. First used within the Twenties for the liner of the label's still-popular trench coats, the sample has since been translated onto its best-selling baggage, scarves, and extra. Non scratch exact Sapphire crystal may be utilized on our Swiss replica watches Been one of the hardest supplies on the planet it's just about unimaginable to scratch unlike any mineral glass found further replicas. That is certainly a helpful and barely replica watches all all over the world. Burberry replica are ideal for individual customers, shopkeepers, and for these organizing return gifts for parties, among many others. Burberry replica may also be expressive of one's tastes and pursuits or chosen causes in the type of catchy slogans printed upon them. He actually can't afford to purchase, the existence of these Rolex replica watches a good choice. Real, real, one hundred% genuine watches, even used, begin within the tons of of dollars, not a whole lot. The watch is on the thicker facet as a result of its shape and how it is a flat cyl Tag watches MONACOinder, a swiss audemars piguet replicand measures 11mm thick. Like a clean , damp, masculinely contemporary in an aftershave or men’s body wash kinda means. Fragrantica® Trends is a relative value that exhibits the curiosity of Fragrantica members in this fragrance over time. When the Rain Stops by Maison Martin Margiela is a Aromatic Aquatic perfume for women. The Tag Heuer copy watches with titanium instances make this Monaco assortment a new rebirth. The 36 mm TAG Heuer Carrera faux watches will match nearly all the ladies perfectly. Jet fighter aces, Breitling Certifie price Special 1st copy watches Forces demolition specialists, and bomber pilots are merely numerous the crucial professionals who wear Chase-Durer timepieces. Even when a reproduction uses a Swiss-made motion, the second hand's ticking is commonly visibly leaping as a substitute of sweeping. https:/skel.io/blog/post/get-the-best-replica-handbags-online:-burberry-edition That’s why most of the knockoff markets came up with an concept to create Burberry inspired luggage, with equivalent high quality, but at very affordable costs. So you might be here wondering the place to find replica Burberry bags. The Purse Queen was started in August of of 2010 by me, Angie , as a weblog that evaluations genuine & replica purses I truly have bought all through the years, and replica web sites as properly. I am your typical fashion obsessed woman in her 30s (think Blair Waldorf or Serena van Der Woodsen post-Gossip Girl) primarily based in New York, but regularly journey across the globe . This new replica watch is fitted with a surprising silver grain dial with applied markers matching the metal of the case. While an authentic burberry london Burberry Blue Check could value you upwards of 500, the Burberry replica handbags of the identical sort will certainly hit you up for one fourth of the identical. Acheive the same difference in price in other Burberry models too. Burberry replica purses have turn into reasonably priced but high quality manufacturers take great select to make certain that the replica they manufacture is durable. They copy each sew, style, reduce and material to make a handbag which can fool a variety of onlooker into believing that you're carrying precise cigarettes. The Quilted Lola Bag could be worn crossbody or on the shoulder with its polished chain strap, an excellent match with the quilt design of the bag. The bag has a magnetic closure and an inside slip pocket. Hi new member, simply wondering where can i find some good burberry replicas thanks. The reality is, no one else may ever bear in mind that the Burberry you flaunt so charmingly in your shoulder costs you fewer than a hundred. wikipedia handbags So I very lately purchased a Burberry replica handbag or tote which I am in love with. Burberry is one brand which I personally no much less than can not justify shopping for an actual purse from.
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best00hong · 2 years
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Dainese "valentino Replica 09" Leather Gloves
Louis Vuitton's previous few perfume launches have been conceptually fascinating and funky. The mixture of the understated yet attractive decanter-esque bottle, cool name, and great scent hit the entire proper notes for me. After reading the scent profile, do not you would like you had been wearing it right now? Though it sounds candy, it has a shocking quantity of darkish, leathery depth to it. Burberry Hero is a cologne of the past, present, and future, multi functional. The major criteria they us to choose folks for each product are who you're , where you reside and your interests. The Cosmos Museum was opened 25 January 1975 near Yaroslavl. Among its reveals is a duplicate of her childhood house. The faculty she attended as a toddler was renamed for her. A planetarium in Yaroslavl was constructed and named for her in 2011. So, it's not least stunning to find a majority of women go gaga over Valentino handbags and other apparels. From then, there was no wanting back for Valentino. He later launched a whole line of not simply garments however apparels like purses and sneakers too. Vintage Valentino Garavani black leather bolide bag with shoulder strap, V emblem, a fringe. After her spaceflight, Tereshkova turned a nationwide and worldwide position model. I purchased the trumpet and I really feel that the capability is sufficiently big. I just like the sq. replica bag tote , it's higher to place issues, as shown in Figure four, my commonplace, charging treasure, card replica bag tote , small pockets can also be OK, air cushion lipstick, in addition to camera phone. I really feel that it is appropriate for any event and the worth is very excessive. Not to say, Sephora can additionally be offering free same-day transport with code FREESHIP. Each code is limited to one use solely, though both can be utilized without delay. You know an excellent fragrance if you smell one, and all it takes is one spritz to find your signature scent. Search by brand inspiration, product name, scent household, notes, and so on. Our fragrance bottles are made from 100% recyclable and sustainable materials, aside from the pump. wikipedia handbags We’ve additionally discontinued plastic samples, so you presumably can feel good about smelling good. The following month she offered a silver cup, which went to the group from the Soviet Union who gained gold in all 5 boat courses, on the ladies's 1963 European Rowing Championships held in Khimki close to Moscow. By February 1964, Tereshkova was pregnant when she visited Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom who was additionally pregnant at the time. Except for a few-months break that year, Tereshkova went on a steady and exhausting world tour, returning to her public duties solely two months after the start of her daughter. The leather-based can additionally be a lot shinier than the actual Valentino. Still, it’s a wonderful shoe and really flattering. Pack powder have been divided into three groups, underneath the leadership. The alternative of a bunch of models, after which pick a set of the newest season Replica Valentino Handbags clothing, sneakers and luggage, with a representative of Valentino Look. Has always been to wear a well known flower teacher Song, the scene to the replica bag tote powder to provide lots of wear advice. Her wear to take the thought, is to search out essentially the most suitable for their own. Analysts imagine their arrests are an try by Beijing to pressure Canada to release Meng, whose company has been accused of being an agent of Chinese intelligence. The Trudeau government nonetheless hasn determined whether it's going to ban Huawei or not.. Printed on high-quality, thick, shiny card they will look great in your friends’ and families’ mantle items this Christmas. https://skel.io/valentino-replica.html And of course, all funds raised will assist us continue to make sure vital healthcare reaches folks in a variety of the hardest to reach elements of Africa. And it does not stop there...Motor Sports Travel has teamed along with Two Wheels for Life to look after your journey wants and ensure a comfortable keep through the weekend. Made out of animal leather-based, not sure what kind. Product was successfully added to your shopping cart. If to be carried throughout the torso, a flat leather hand carry strap is offered on the front side. Every replica hand bag accommodates two open compartments, an open flat pocket in the inside and, a zipper pocket. Just like women’s clothes, we update plenty of new styles each season. How can we get a trend versatile and practical huge bag this year? For instance, this mannequin, with a simple shape and a large capacity purse, with rivet decoration, style sense instantly went. And this one could be very suitable for OL, take you as a strong lady in the gas field. Our Valentino pretend purses are classier copies of the unique version with the same luxurious feel, texture and look of pure and rich leather. They match like a glove in all your outing ventures completely, be it for normal use or for special evenings and, night outs. Sole is darker and has slightly pink shade bleeding from the edge. Includes some beveling as in the authentic, however not very a lot. The Valentino stamp is way shallower, and the dimensions stamp signifies Chinese sizing somewhat than EU sizing . You’ll in all probability want to put non-slip soles on these guys. Annie’s higher is extra flexible and KP’s have somewhat extra padding, but each are pretty snug.
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pedersenbailey9 · 2 years
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Top 10 Yves Saint Laurent Women Handbags Finest Ysl Bags
Absolutely cute with its spherical angles and two small hand handles, the Duffle adds immediately one thing good, sympathetic to your look. The quilted leather also conveys this temper of extremely refined luxury, identical to that one little fantasy that is the leather pompom on the clasp. – of the Lou bag, is certainly the golden Yves Saint Laurent monogram. In steel, it echoes to the golden plate of the zipper and brings somewhat extra luxurious to the bag. Burberry trench coats are traditional, stylish and completely gorgeous! Yves Saint Laurent is known for the saying, "Chanel freed women, and I empowered them." The younger, but experienced designer had an eye fixed for menswear on women —he knew tips on how to match the feminine figure in more masculine silhouettes in a way that highlighted her sexuality and determine in new methods. With the 680,000 francs Dior paid Saint Laurent under breach of contract he promptly invested into his own model a yr, along with Jesse Mack Robinson, from whom Bergé negotiated an investment of $70,000. In his first assortment in January 1962, Saint Laurent introduced a women’s peacoat that was inspired by naval uniforms. It also features an edgy chain-link strap, a foldover flap, and a tonal YSL emblem on the entrance. The white leather Becky, accented with silver-tone hardware as an alternative of gold, adds an icy touch to a fall/winter wardrobe. Better nonetheless, you probably can proceed the tiny-bag trend with the mini Becky crossbody bag which, like the Lou, has a extra camera-like shape. Lovely black plexiglass minaudière ending with a pompom, typical of vintage YSL items. Shop a basic Saint Laurent Monogram handbag with a perfect juxtaposition of gold or silver letters or an earth-hued YSL tassel bag, fringed like a cowboy’s jacket. Saint Laurent purses are remarkable style treasures; heirlooms to pass down from era to technology. Featuring a front flap with a leather-based en-cased interlocked YSL brand, this bag can easily match every little thing you need on a every day basis. The inside of the bag is divided into one major compartment, one flat pocket, and an inside zip pocket. Unlike similar totes from other luxurious manufacturers, this Saint Laurent bag has an inside zipper pocket to let you organize your essentials. Founded in 1961, Yves Saint Laurent was the primary couture house to introduce the concept of luxurious ready-to-wear with the label’s 1966 ‘Saint Laurent Rive Gauche’ womenswear collection. The French house’s debut prêt-a-porter line set a standard of youth and freedom that represented a crucial first step within the modernization of style and irrevocably reworked the socio-cultural landscape. The label’s up to date iteration, Saint Laurent, now under the inventive path of Anthony Vaccarello since April 2016, upholds its founder’s legacy of absolute modernity and style authority. Designed by Anthony Vaccarello in 2017, it's a contemporary day-to-night bag emblazoned with recognizable YSL hardware on the entrance flap. The robbers, three men and two women, took off in an SUV. If you’re purchasing for a new pair of Stuart Weitzman over the knee boots, Burberry boots, and more, you’re in luck! You can rise up to a $600 Neiman Marcus present card in your purchase of footwear and apparel. wikipedia handbags I made certain and featured a number of favorites and some I’m coveting within the Shop The Post widget. Vintage Yves Saint Laurent Passementerie Lucite Handle Bag. The heart handles are a glossy red lucite, and the physique of the bag is black and fantastically woven mixture of three completely different t... NWOT YSL Yves Saint Laurent Black Ostrich Small Sac Du Jour Handbag in wonderful condition. re-pin.me saint laurent replica bag Black ostrich leather exterior trimmed with gold hardware and a removable matching ostrich... The Sac du Jour sees colorful releases nearly every season, but we like it most in basic black and grey. We’re still not over the minibag development, so this 12 months you’ll catch us sporting this practical bag within the lovable nano measurement. If you spend $250 in two classes (apparel/shoes or apparel/handbags), you will obtain a $50 reward card. An integral part of fashion, purses and purses have been indispensable accessories ever since we started to hold round personal gadgets. Perfect classic YVES SAINT LAURENT cross physique bag, or shoulder bag! This purse options multi coloured waxed canvas, with a red leather strap. With the vacation season ahead, the Niki in metallic silver leather will bring a glitzy accent to your wardrobe, whether or not there are events on the horizon or not. For a extra subdued seasonal possibility, we love the Niki shoulder bag in crinkled deep pink leather, a practical selection that’s assured to face the test of time. Crafted from beige leather with whipstitching detail on the edges, this beauty is held by a horn-shap... Ideal for every day, you will slip all of your everyday accessories there. Both elegant and informal, it is in full-grain calfskin and its jewellery in golden brass.
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parsons44corcoran · 15 days
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hansolmates · 3 years
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17 going on 27
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summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england w/c; 22.6k a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits​ for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t! 
if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨
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March 19th, 2011
Thirty, flirty, and thriving!
You finger the dog-eared magazine, last month’s issue of a shoddy fashion magazine that featured top actress Jennifer Garner on the front cover. Her caramel brown highlights practically glow on the page, blown out and beautiful. You suppress a sigh, you long to be the radiant young woman on the cover. The headline is glittery, sparkly and just begging for attention. 
Swiping a hand through the pages, your eyes are crowded with over-stimulation. Colorful models dressed up in the latest designs, Chanel and Burberry suits you can only dream of, and happy women at the prime of their lives. 
Twenty-seven and in Heaven! You smile wryly at the cheesy rhyme that headlines the following pages, but nevertheless the happy model on the spread does indeed look like they’re in heaven. 
Sure, you’re no shrinking violet. Heck, you don’t even consider yourself painfully average. You may not be on the traditional spectrum of popularity in high school, but you get around and have a wonderful best friend and an even better boyfriend. However given the social classes that preside, you do get those moments where you second guess your life’s position. Good thing high school has an expiration date, and you’re close to the end.  
“Baby Bun, what are you doing?” the magazine is snatched from your grasp, thrown on the table without a care in the world. Jennifer Garner’s hydro-whitened smile gleams tauntingly at you, “reading that junk is gonna mess with your head.” 
Your boyfriend returns from his final suit fitting, his outfit for tonight all pressed and ready to go. He pouts at you, pulling you up by the hand to lead you out of the Men’s Warehouse. Jeon Jungkook. Captain of the lacrosse team, flying by high school with a sports scholarship already in the bag. Eats up attention like plants soak up the sun. Secretly loves taking photographs of his dog and watching Netflix animes at your house. 
“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 
“Excited to listen to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem on repeat?” you guaff, “as if.” 
He pinches your arm lightly, “You also forget that we’re gonna tear up the floor to Nicki Minaj’s Superbass.” 
You shrug listlessly, crunching the white plastic closer to your body. 
Before you can suck all the air out of the garment bag, Jungkook carefully extracts it from your grasp, easily holding it between his one arm so he can thread his other hand through yours. “I am excited! It’s just that… Jimin’s not gonna be there and we’re sitting with the Yearbook committee.”
Looking down at the floor you extract your hand from his, slipping into his parent’s Honda Civic. The yearbook committee, meaning you’d be sitting at a table with head editor Jennie and her group of friends. Friends that are popular and pretty, just like Jungkook. 
Jimin is currently on a flight back from Korea due to a family funeral, therefore leaving a seat empty at your prom table. It was only seat that you cared about, other than Jungkook’s. It’s no one’s fault and Jimin of course is doubly upset to miss prom, but without your best friend you’re not sure if you can survive the night. 
One of the few secrets you keep from Jungkook is the fact that Jennie and you aren’t exactly friendly to each other. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t run the in same friend group or you always win the debate in Civics class, but Jennie clearly expresses her dislike for you as easily as she expresses her love for Jungkook. 
Which makes you incredibly insecure, but Jennie and Jungkook have been friends for longer than you and him have been together, who are you to intervene? 
Jungkook slips in the driver’s seat, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 
Right. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend, and that should matter more than his friendship with Jennie. 
But the smell of his freshly cleaned lacrosse jersey, his duffle bag overflowing with protein powder and unfinished assignments remind you that you have your world and he has his. A conversation about your insecurities could wait until tomorrow. 
“When’s Jimin’s flight?” Jungkook asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping on your thigh as he pulls out. 
“He’ll be back two hours into the dance,” you report, albeit glumly as you rest your head against the cool window. 
“That sucks,” Jungkook replies, a bit of sadness in his tone, “he has to miss out on his prom night.” 
You shrug, “Prom isn’t everything, it’s about the people you spend it with.” 
“Well then,” he squeezes your thigh, “I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” 
You only have a few hours to get ready until you meet Jungkook at his house for pictures, so when you get dropped off, you tell him that he doesn’t have to get out of the car to escort you into your home. But Jungkook is insistent, putting the car in park and getting out your dress for you with such delicacy that you’re positively sure there’s no wrinkles in the fabric. Taking the dress from his grasp you wish him goodbye and a promise to meet each other later. 
“Wait,” Jungkook is biting his lip, unable to let go of your hand even though you’re already up the stairs. You’re looking down at him, a rarity considering his tall frame. 
“What’s wrong, Kook?” 
“Uh, I was just thinking,” he’s scratching the back of his head, and you soften. The little quirk he has is a sign of insecurity, being the star player Jungkook is forced to exude confidence to a fault. “Maybe, we could skip the prom thing? You said so yourself that prom is about the people you spend it with.” 
Your eyes widen, clutching your dress tighter. “What? Jungkook, that’s ridiculous. Between the both of us we’ve spent a lot of money on the clothes and the tickets.” 
“Right,” he forces a laugh, and you put a hand on your hip to think it out but you can’t quite place what’s going on. “Sorry Bun, I just know how the finale of our favorite anime airs tonight.” 
“You’re so silly,” you chastise, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Normally he hates it, but you can’t help but melt when he leans into your touch a little more. “C’mon, I know suits are stuffy and stuff, but let’s just do this high school rite of passage thing. Afterwards we can go to McDonalds or something and watch the recording.” 
“You’re right,” his face is red, “what was I thinking? Can’t miss out on a night to see my beautiful girlfriend all dressed up.” 
He squeezes your hand one last time, a little too tight for comfort. With a half smile he waves, going into his car and driving off. 
You don’t have time to dwell on his weirdness (and trust when you say that Jungkook is plenty weird and it astounds you how the rest of your class has no idea) so you fly up to your room to get your hair and makeup ready. Your parents greet you excitedly along the way, telling you there’s a package left for you on your vanity.
It’s a plain cardboard box, already cut and unwrapped by your parents for convenience. The address shows it came from Korea, proudly displaying the name of your best friend on the return address. Inside is a beautiful compact, made of brushed gold and pink metal. The makeup inside is a loose glitter from a brand that you don’t recognize, but since it’s a gift from Jimin, you trust his taste. 
I have to be at prom somehow, Jimin’s note on the box reads, don’t overthink and have fun! 
You snort, reading the sticky note over and over in Jimin’s voice. Looking over the shade, you can’t help but grimace at the cliché name. Wishing Dust. The color is a little too white and silvery for your taste, but you’ll wear it in honor of Jimin. 
The dress, the hair, the makeup all come together little by little. You like the ritual of getting ready, building yourself up to the highest order and feeling closer and closer to the beautiful women in magazines. Surprisingly, your favorite part of getting ready is applying the glitter that Jimin gifted you. The puff enclosed is cloud soft, and surprisingly the color doesn’t look too ashen on your skin. The glitter sinks into your skin like a soft butter, accentuating your collarbones and cheeks as if you are glowing from within. 
You smile at yourself in the mirror. A little part of you wishes you could look like this everyday. You wish you could always look and feel this confident, and act mature and graceful. 
A buzzing on your desk stops your wishful thinking, and you frown at the message that lights up your phone. 
Jungkook: sorry bun, but the civic finally broke down and its on its way to car heaven. Could we meet at the party hall instead? We can take pictures there, jennie mentioned yearbook hired a photographer
Disheartened, you send a quick text back saying it’s fine. Any more explanation on your feelings would reveal your disappointment. You don’t know how you’re going to tell your parents that they won’t be taking pictures with your boyfriend anytime soon. So you suck it in and take solo pictures for your parents and some group selfies. This is just one bump in the night, the rest of it should be smooth sailing. 
But when your parents drop you off at the venue your eyes first land on a beat up Honda Civic. You’re pretty sure car heaven isn’t at the prom. 
The rest of your entrance is a blur as you go through every corner of the venue, searching for your boyfriend. You’re clutching his matching flower in your hand, a beautiful red rose with baby’s breath circling around it, all clutched together in a black silk ribbon. You wonder what kind of flower he bought you. 
But it’s nearly impossible to find him. Not at the photobooth, the appetizer buffet, or in the lobby. It’s not until you’re sweating at the brow and nearing the corner of the venue that you do find him.
Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 
The plastic encasing Jungkook’s boutonniere drops, clanging to the ground. 
Whispers of you circle the air, meeting your ears and confirming all your insecurities. 
“Oh my god, I knew Jungkook was cheating on her!” 
“Wow, how pathetic. She ran all the way to prom alone to see this?” 
“I thought his girlfriend was a smart girl. How did she not know that their relationship was a bet all along?” 
Jungkook and Jennie are on the balcony, looking picture perfect in matching formal attire and flowers. The sun is setting, not taking its time as it sinks deeper and deeper into the horizon. The sky darkens and the air is chilly, much like your heart. 
Jungkook's eyes are wide and in shock as he watches you from the balcony, but Jennie’s are sharp and satisfied. Satisfied, as if the whole thing had been orchestrated. 
While you can’t hear him because he’s so far away, you can see the ghost of your name on his lips. Your ears are ringing, numb to the laughter of the students watching and the pity that others are throwing at you. You feel dumb. You feel like throwing up. In a bout of anger your heel digs into the plastic of the boutonniere, crushing the innocent rose in its clear coffin. 
You don’t make it far out the door when one of your favorite teachers snatches you in concern. 
“Honey, any further and you’ll be running on the highway," Mrs. Song jokes, pulling you away from the entrance. 
You feel like a newborn deer in your heels and incredibly heavy in your dress as Mrs. Song drags you over to a staff bathroom. It's far, far away from the actual party. Mrs. Song doesn't say anything, and just gives you a sad smile as she let's you go into the single stall alone. 
Sitting on the toilet and not giving a care that your dress is probably getting soiled, you bury your face in your hands and finally let the tears flow. Fat, frustrated tears roll down your cheeks without a care in the world. 
"Mrs. Song please, I need to get in there." 
"Now Jungkook, I think you've done enough for today. Go back to the party and don't worry about it." 
You can imagine Jungkook now, he hated it when people told him not to worry.  It only made him more annoyed, fists probably clenched under his perfectly tailored suit and his cute teeth uncharacteristically gritted. He cared to a fault, at least you thought he did. He ruined your night, he made you feel so dumb and silly.
But the longer you stayed in the dim bathroom, you could care less. Thank goodness for Mrs. Song guarding the door. Why would he bother to follow you? It turns out all your insecurities are not in vain, and that you’ve been ignoring a gut feeling you’ve mistaken for your lack of trust. You shouldn’t have trusted Jungkook. You shouldn’t have been so tolerable of Jennie. 
Goodness, you feel so stupid. You hope that there are other bathrooms for staff to use, because you want to coop yourself in here until the last dance. Mascara drips on your sleeves, your hands swiping at your cheeks to stop any tears from staining your dress even further. 
The more you hear Jungkook and Mrs. Song argue, the more you want to disappear. You bury yourself on the floor, uncaring of how dirty the tiles are. Glitter smears across your cheeks and sticks to your hands, and you no longer feel like the thriving young adult you once felt when you walked out the door this evening.
All you can do is cry and pray you can get through the night. And the next day, and the rest of senior year. You don’t want to see Jungkook or Jennie until graduation, when they walk out of the door and permanently out of your life. You wish you could skip the rest of the semester, and fastforward to the life you’ve carved for yourself in your dreams since freshman year. You wish you could be like the woman on the magazine, who has her whole life put together. To be a woman who holds all the confidence in the world and doesn’t have to worry about stupid men. 
Just like the cover. Thirty, flirty and thriving. Just like the models in the magazines. Twenty-seven and in heaven. 
Just once, do you want to taste the feeling of having life on your side. 
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March 20st, 2021
Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 
Of course, falling asleep in a random bathroom stall will make you feel those things. Your dress clinging uncomfortably to your sweating form, lulled to the sounds of Mrs. Song’s temperamental voice and Jungkook’s arguing. 
But for some reason it’s a different kind of disgusting. The feeling is rotting in your throat, as if there’s a tang stuck to the roof of your mouth. You also feel impossibly dehydrated, as if you’ve run a marathon. And for some reason you’re sore? Especially in the crotch, and you don’t remember experiencing any cramps yesterday. 
Your hands come to your body, and instead of feeling tulle and taffeta your hands are greeted with a silky black negligee that hangs across your waist. Panic stings in your bones like a stroke of lightning. 
Eyes snapping open, your breath catches in your throat when you take in the room. You’re on a large plush creme couch, large enough to be a bed. The organza curtains are a shade of bottle green and are opened slightly to let the morning sun in. From your view it seems like this is the top floor of the complex, overlooking the city horizon. 
You feel the covers shift slightly, and you realize there’s a naked man sleeping next to you. You scream. 
The man screams back with an even higher pitch, falling off the couch and clutching the sheets like a lifeline. “What?” he panics, eyes darting back and forth across the room like he’s on a reality television show. “What the fuck? Is there something on my face! Why are you screaming so early!” 
The fact that he’s an adult man and you’re seventeen is even more terrifying, and you feel absolutely naked despite the fact that you’re nearly clothed. But what confuses you more is that this man looks awfully familiar. 
Familiar in the sense that you’ve seen him in one too many television sitcoms to count. This man in front of you looks like Kim Seokjin, the protagonist of your favorite television show: Sky City. He has the same plump lips and pretty face, only aged up. But last time you checked on Soompi, Seokjin is supposed to be twenty years old and filming the next season in New Zealand. Arguably he could be his older brother, but he never acted and you don’t think he’d be the spitting image. 
“Seokjin?” you taste the name on your tongue, “Kim Seokjin?” 
Seokjin relaxes considerably, and he finds it appropriate to return to the couch, placing a tentative hand on your thigh. “Right, were you really that drunk? You got my name right, but it seems that you’ve forgotten that the only name you called me last night was sex god…” 
His plush lips meet the ends of your earlobe, and you squeal at the strange sensation. 
You’ve had sex with this man and you can’t even remember it? Furthermore how can a peasant like you be in contact with a celebrity? What on earth happened last night? Shouldn’t you be calling the police or panicking more? Where’s the pepper spray and sharp knives where you need them? You can’t even find it in you to find a sharp weapon at your once cherished-idol, who’s apparently unfazed and drinking in your body like he has a taste of it every night. 
“What’s the date?” you push him away, looking around for any signs of where you are and how you ended up here. 
“It’s the first day of spring,” Seokjin says easily, stretching out on the couch. “I wonder when the cherry blossoms will bloom. Should we have a picnic with Bogum?” 
“Where’s my phone, I can’t find my phone!” 
Seokjin doesn’t bat an eye as he digs through the couch, pulling something from under him. He waves it in front of your face. “That’s not my phone,” you deadpan. 
“Okay I guess you were actually that drunk,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, forcing the large piece of plastic and metal on your palm. “When you went to the bathroom last night you dropped your old phone in the toilet. We picked up a new one on the way to the next bar. Good thing the new Samsung dropped last month!” 
Since when are phones this large? You carry the strange weight in your hands, confused as to why Seokjin thinks this is your phone. You own a beat up 2G that barely gets any reception in the school basement. But when you turn it on, the screen recognizes your face immediately and unlocks. Wow, since when do cell phones do face recognition? 
A selfie of you and Seokjin appears on the homescreen, looking totally happy. 
Is that you? 
No longer do you have acne lining your brows, or uneven skin texture. Your smile is high and prominent. Your visage is clean and done with minimal makeup, highlighting your beauty. 
The date flickers on the top of the screen. March 20th, 2021: 7:42AM.
You scream again. Seokjin screams again for the heck of it. 
“How did this happen!” you shriek, dropping your phone to step up to the window. You bask in your reflection, mildly impressed and even more so afraid of what’s in front of you. Your body has filled out like an adult, and considering it’s ten years into the future, other things have filled out as well. Experimentally, your hands go out to your chest, squeezing. Yep, those knockers were not there the last time you checked. 
“Well, you came back from work completely drained from a shoot and I just finished filming my Everyday Skincare Routine video with Vogue,” Seokjin comes up to you, blanket tied around his waist like a long towel. “We met at our usual bar and do what we usually do when we’re both stressed: bang it out.” 
You watch as Seokjin’s hands snake around your slick silk, hugging you from behind like it’s second nature. “Is this a dream?” you ask yourself, because it’s not unlikely that you’ve had a sex dream with Seokjin and this is the aftermath dream. 
“Nope,” you yelp when Seokjin pinches your butt, hard. It stings. “This is real life, baby.” 
“Are we dating?” 
You feel Seokjin’s grip tense, and he shoves your innocent question away with a coarse laugh. “You know both you and me don’t do serious relationships. It’s why we work so well together, you know that.” 
“Right,” you reply softly. That doesn’t sound like you at all, and it scares you considerably. 
��So, I gotta go,” you panic when he lets go and starts searching around for his clothes. Your face heats up at Seokjin’s perky ass staring back at you, and your eyes dart to a random spot in the corner. “I got a green meeting with Ellen, and lord knows I don’t wanna face her wrath if I’m late.” 
In seconds he’s fully clothed in a plain shirt and jeans, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Call me beep me, if you wanna reach me,” he sings, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he leaves you in the large apartment. 
The door slams with a hard smack and that’s when you collapse on the couch that feels foreign and strange, breaking into tears. 
The next time you wake up, it’s the next day. It’s a glaringly bright Sunday and for whatever reason you’re still in this aged-up body. Maybe time travel makes the body really tired. This isn’t a dream. You panic for the second time, walking back and forth around the loft that’s apparently yours. It seems like it’s yours, because the bills that linger on the coffee table have your name and the pictures in the one bedroom are of you and your family. 
But the refrigerator in the nook is digital and has fancy ice settings, something you could never imagine owning. Your closet is filled with brand named suits, and with every designer label you pass you mentally rack up the total of just one section. It’s enough to pay for your college tuition if your first choice accepts you. 
Wait. You’re apparently twenty-seven, college is long gone. 
Lying in your bed feels better, surrounded by familiar pictures of your cousins and family. Your favorite snacks are tucked with care in your nightstand, and it makes you feel a tiny bit better knowing that your favorite chocolate and chips will never change. 
What happened in the past ten years? Why don’t you remember anything and are you entirely sure this isn’t some strange fever dream? 
Time ticks slowly as you spend the afternoon, glued to your phone. It’s a 25 Note+ and it’s filled with multiple doohickeys and settings that make you feel technologically inept. You never thought you were bad with technology, but clearly these phones have a learning curve attached to them. 
You try to call your family, but according to the voicemail left they’re on a Disney cruise that you paid for. Your heart aches at the excited voice of your parents. Why are they on a vacation without you? 
The next thing you aim for is finding Jimin’s contact. According to Google Maps, you’re not far from your hometown and you know that Jimin’s always wanted to move to the city so he must be nearby. To your chagrin, his name isn’t on your contact list. Strange, he’s always number two on speed dial. 
Clicking on the internet browser, you go to the online Whitepages and search up Park Jimin. There may be a million ones, but maybe you could get a lead. When a picture and an address show up easily with one swipe, you scoff. The internet has no room for privacy ten years later, huh? 
The most casual thing you own in your closet is a Free People dress, reaching mid-calf with flowing bell sleeves. Heck, you couldn’t even find a single pair of jeans. You don’t care however, as you swipe your keys from the counter (you gape, you own a Tesla?) and race down to the parking garage. 
Jimin’s apartment is on the other side of the city. It’s strange, transitioning from high rises and shiny windows to quaint brick walls and lived-in patio spaces. You feel like it’s a race against time as you make it all the way to his room, knocking feverishly on the mahogany red door. 
“What? Who is it?” it’s clear that his room is cheap, the walls thin as you hear his voice shuffle throughout the room. Why are you shaking? It’s just your best friend. 
The door swings open and you and Jimin drink each other in. His baby fat has melted from his cheeks, revealing a handsome and charming jawline. His hair is no longer a natural black, but has been dyed to a sandy blond that suits his tan. His eyes, wide in surprise, are still a soft brown but not as bright as when he was seventeen. 
“Jimin,” your third round of tears hits you like a truck at the sight of your best friend, and you immediately run into his arms. 
But he doesn’t hug you back immediately. In fact, he doesn’t know what to do at all. Your name rolls off his lips like he’s seen a ghost. 
You pull away, as if you are burned. You flinch at the way Jimin regards you. “Is something wrong?” 
“I don’t know,” he looks at you, crossing his arms, “I don’t know what to feel when your old best friend suddenly shows up at your doorstep after ten years.” 
What? 
“Why would I do that?” you whisper, bracing your hand against the doorframe to steady yourself. 
“Well, after graduation you chose a college at the last minute. Decided to go to a prestigious fashion university in Europe. Shacked it up with some British guys and well, forgot about your past but I guess I can’t blame you.” 
“But I couldn’t have left you,” you know you’re not even talking to Jimin, but in fact scolding yourself for being so stupid these past ten years. “I was crying for you that night at prom. All I wanted was for you to be there and hold me!” 
That strikes a cord. Jimin pops his head into the hallway, looking back and forth to see if anyone is watching. He sighs when your tears turn into sobs, shaking your form. “Come in,” he mutters, ushering you inside.
Jimin’s apartment feels more like home than your apartment does. Cosy and warm with the scent of jasmine brewing on the stove. The pour of tea soothes you slightly as you relax on the worn leather couch. 
Jimin hands you a mug, sitting opposite you against the rickety living room table. “Are you okay?” he asks, showing genuine concern for the first time. 
“I’m,” you roll the muddy liquid in your grasp, watching the tea leaves tumble. “I just came back from the hospital, actually. Hit my head drinking last night and I’m suffering from memory loss,” you clutch your head for good measure, feigning injury.  
“Memory loss?” he gapes, unable to see through your lie. 
“Yeah uh,” you wince, “almost ten years of memory loss.” 
Jimin isn’t a man who thinks ahead, preferring to live in the moment. You figure he’s not going to question your excuse. Your former best friend nearly drops his tea in the process, hot drops burning his hand. He hisses, placing the plain mug on the table as he goes to his shelves, pulling out your class yearbook. 
“Ten years,” he shakes his head, looking like he’s just stepped into a Korean drama. “Is that even possible?” 
“Must be,” you sigh, not wanting to delve into the details of how you ended up in the future, “the first thing I did when I woke up was scream my head off. Then I woke up later and the first person I called were my parents who didn’t pick up, and then I wanted to call you but,” you squeeze the cup in your hands, “I couldn’t find your contact so I searched you up.” 
“Should we call the hospital or something? Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around like this.” 
“Don’t worry, they said the memory loss is only temporary,” you force a smile, knocking your head lightly with the heel of your palm, “I just gotta y’know, catch up a little bit. I thought you could help.” 
Jimin is patient, albeit a little nervous, watching carefully as your eyes glaze emptily over the old yearbook. You’re unfazed at the familiar faces and events that are described to you in detail, unable to recall what happened during the events that followed graduation. There’s barely any pictures of you, so it doesn’t help when he tries to explain as much as he can. 
You stop him at the sports section, pointing a finger at Jungkook being carried by his fellow teammates during the lacrosse championships. “What happened to Jungkook?” 
Jimin shrugged, “Blew his sports scholarship,” your eyebrows float to the top of your forehead, appalled that your former love would do such a thing, “decided to pursue his passion and went to an art school for a degree in photography.” 
So much has changed in the past ten years. 
“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 
“I’m sorry,” you warble, wiping at your sleeve as if the fabric didn’t cost hundreds of dollars, “I must be making you so uncomfortable by barging in. I’ll get out of your life—”
“No, not that. I just don’t like seeing you cry,” Jimin sighs, squeezing your knee, “of course I was upset when you suddenly upped and left town to study in another continent. But I was still happy for you. On the internet you seemed tons happier since highschool.” 
“I can say that’s no longer the case,” you mutter sadly, taking a long drag of your tea. The burn flows down your throat, digging you to reality, “I guess I just woke up and wasn’t prepared to be the person I ended up being.” 
“Well, what can your former best friend do to make it better?” 
Your eyes widen at Jimin’s uneasy stare, as if he’s wondering whether he said the right thing or not. 
“Um,” you bite your lip, “will you go shopping with me? I realized I don’t own any sweatpants or sneakers and I would really like to wear something comfortable right now,” you look despondently on your uncomfortable dress, swinging around the sleeves that seem to snag onto everything. 
“Okay,” he nods easily, “will you also buy me new sweatpants and sneakers? And dinner? I really want a New York Strip.” 
“What?” you furrow your brows, “can I afford that?” 
He chuckles to himself, pulling you up and wiping the tears on your face with a tissue from his pocket. You don’t even care to ask whether the tissue is clean, only focusing on the tender gesture that you’ve missed so much. 
“Honey, you’re one of the co-editors of Ego. I’m sure a couple pairs of sweatpants and steak will barely make a dent in your bank account.” 
You’re flabbergasted. Ego? The fashion magazine that’s on billboards and commercials? That Ego? 
After a couple checks through your bank account, and a triple check with a phone call and trip to the ATM, you’re sure the money is yours. It scares you, but also comforts you knowing that you’ve always been able to make it big. 
You barely bat an eye as Jimin tugs you around the city with a familiarity that has you reeling. You struggle to remember the streets you pass and the signs that indicate what part of town you’re in, all whilst Jimin basks in the fruits of your labor. You don’t give a shit, obviously. It makes you happy seeing Jimin slowly melt and grow more comfortable throughout the day. 
This is the kind of life you envisioned. One where comfort isn’t discarded for luxury, where the two cultures can marry. Jimin busts a gut when he sees you angrily shove your Free People dress deep in your shopping bags in favor of a black Adidas tracksuit that makes you feel like a soccer mom. Of course, he doesn’t know why you’re so aggressive with all your luxurious items, heck you even make him drive your Tesla, but nevertheless each passing hour brightens you up considerably.  
When you two arrive at a fancy steakhouse with a dress code, the manager doesn’t hesitate to chide you and suggest the Applebee’s down the street. 
You retort back that you’re an editor of Ego, and in seconds you’d have this restaurant swarmed with bad reviews. You know nothing about culinary review but you’re sure the manager doesn’t know that, and no arguments are placed after that. 
The evening puts you in higher spirits, and you’re almost convinced that you’re a successful twenty-something catching up with your former best friend. You’ve always been mature for your age, high school can do that to a person, and it makes it vastly easier to keep up with the new decade. 
“So,” you help Jimin get his bags up into his apartment. A little part of it feels like a bribe as you carry all the name brands on your arms, but you chalk it up to being compensation for the last ten years, “who are the people you hang out with now? Anyone I know?” 
“Well, Taehyung sometimes drops by if he’s free. He’s traveling the world now, he actually works with you,” Jimin provides the information smoothly, “only he works in the international business column. But surprisingly, the person I hang out the most with is—”
“Jungkook.” 
Standing face-to-face with your old high school sweetheart disarms you, and you’re sorely reminded that just you’re a seventeen-year-old in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body. 
Jungkook looks tired, and he rubs his eyes a bit as if to make sure he isn’t dreaming. You in the flesh, looking purposeful and confident as you hold three bags on each arm, each piece probably costing more than his rent. He’s filled out, what once was lean muscle and minor definition has turned into full muscle mass hidden beneath a large t-shirt and sweatpants that are two sizes too big. His face is still sweet-looking and baby-like, but his hair is overgrown and waving in front of his eyes without a care in the world. 
“Did I mention we’re neighbors?” you can practically hear the wince in Jimin’s voice, probably regretting that he hid that chunk of information from you. 
Jungkook tastes his name on your lips, and it sounds foriegn and strange coming from the both of you. “Good to see you,” he says, voice low. 
You barely formulate a response, replying with an equally nervous “right back at ya” and then you two resume staring at each other. While Jungkook hasn’t seen you in the last ten years, you saw him yesterday. Yesterday, where you started the day all peachy keen and it spiraled downhill shortly after. It’s jarring, knowing that your body doesn’t fit your conscience. 
“Well I uh,” Jungkook lifts his indicator to leave, a large garbage bag, “bye.” 
Jungkook shuffles out of the small hallway, and you get a whiff of his scent. It’s still the same, fabric softener mixed with his own musk. 
“I,” you start off slow, “maybe I should go talk to him?” 
“No,” he warns. “You and Jungkook are completely different people now, he’s just gonna think you’re pitying him if you go up and talk to him out of the blue.”
“But we’ve always been different people.” 
“You really think that?” Jimin shakes his head, “I know what happened at prom was rough but, I really didn’t think much of your relationship with Jungkook before that. It seemed like you were pretty compatible—”
“Up until the point he was kissing Jennie in matching flowers on the balcony like some kind of romance film?” you scoff, crossing your arms, “right. Super compatible.” 
Jimin sighs, as if he’s chastising a teenager. “Prom happened ten years ago, don’t act like it happened yesterday. People change.” 
You frown, because in your mind it did happen yesterday. 
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Sleeping last night was hell. It’s one thing to be completely zonked out of your mind and unsure if you’re in a dream or weird coma, but knowing that you’re going to be stuck here for awhile is painful. Your loft is too big for your tiny body, your mattress cold and empty with just you in it. Without your parents to call and you feeling wholly insecure about your rekindling with Jimin, the only person you can really call is… Seokjin. 
And you really don’t want a repeat of your first night. 
So you suck it up, spend your waking hours in your office and quickly learning your tasks for work. You don’t even know what time you’re supposed to clock in, but from a sticky note attached to your MacBook it seems that you have a creative meeting at 10AM. You allow yourself two hours of sleep before you get moving.
The one exciting thing about your morning is that your outfit choices are virtually limitless. You feel like Cher in Clueless, all your outfits color-coordinated and organized by season. You pick out a springy Chanel number, a pale pink tweed skirt suit that has you feeling equally parts cute and an independent working woman. You even make time to buy yourself a coffee, because that’s what adults do right? 
Your office is gorgeous. Also located in the upper part of the city, the glass desk and high windows fit right in. You have an ideas board filled with various designs, fabrics and models to choose from. There’s a little frilly notebook straight out of the 2000s, all filled with phone numbers and special contacts all at your disposal. You even have your own cold press coffee machine complete with a mini-fridge. 
“You’re never this early, nervous for the meeting?” 
You squeal, nearly dropping your coffee as you take a tour around your office. You fight the urge to gape and point accusingly at the woman standing at your door.
“Jennie?” 
“In the flesh,” she gives you a cool smirk, holding her arms out for a hug. It really throws you for a loop, and you’re left stricken in your spot as Jennie closes the gap and squeezes the life out of you. Her grey pinstripe pantsuit crumples against your softer fabric. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easily.” 
“Jennie and you are practically besties,” Jimin sounds a little jealous while saying that, forcing you to scroll through your Instagram page to see the countless selfies of you and your high school rival, “I mean, at least that’s what the internet says. Went to college in Europe together and everything.” 
So it’s true. You awkwardly pat Jennie on the back, and she doesn’t seem to mind when she pulls away and tells you to meet upstairs. You mindlessly follow after her to the conference room, wishing a kind good morning to everyone that greets you. 
Once you make it upstairs, you flinch at the loud screech of your voice. “My favorite editor!” someone in a plaid red suit runs up to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. The editor-in-chief Jung Hoseok smiles brightly at you, leading you to a seat at the head of the table right next to him. You’re cosy with the editor-in-chief? This is crazy! 
“G-good morning Mr. Jung,” you stutter, trying to remain cool. 
“Did something happen to you this weekend?” Hoseok jests, pinching your cheek like a long lost sister. “You always call me Hobi.” 
“Oh,” you force a giggle, “you don’t even know how crazy this weekend was.” 
Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.
“I’m so jealous,” Jennie sing-songs, a manicured finger trailing over the back of your chair, “only the best of the best can sit next to the big boss.” 
The comment has you bristling. Are you really friends? Giving her a tight smile, she saunters to another corner of the meeting. On your section of the table is your itinerary and iPad, ready for note-taking. 
“One thing that we do at Ego is consistency,” Hoseok pulls up a projection of this year’s editions, all carbon copies of the same cover. “And while that is admirable, I want to put my top editors to the test and come up with the theme for next month’s issue.” 
Hoseok sends you yet another pearly white smile, and due to the sheer closeness you know that secret smile is only reserved for you. That makes you squirm in your seat, already feeling the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. 
“Take two days off this week to plan. Work out the days you’ll be out of the office with HR, those days you’ll be working in the city, finding ideas and inspiration for the issue. Remember, think outside the box!” Hoseok does a little fist pump, cutting through the air like his life depends on it. 
The whole lot of the group continues to stare at Hoseok, waiting for his next instructions. Then, the adults begin to panic, similar to a high school class that’s been told they have a pop quiz that’s worth half their grade. You sigh internally, you suppose high school never ends. 
“C’mon,” Hoseok urges, flailing his arms around, “get out there! Make moves, make money!” 
But the only moves you’ve made since 2PM are fleeting trips to the bathroom. 
Obviously you don’t have any memory of your degree or experience, so instead of feeling like an editor you feel more like a teenager playing dress-up. You couldn’t even sneakily ask Jennie for help because she deadpanned: “I’m not sharing any secrets, doll.” It seems that being backhandedly mean is a theme in your relationship, so after that you rolled your eyes and locked your door. Thankfully you packed a pair of sweatpants so you can comfortably lie down on the floor while you spread out your workspace. Magazines littered the hardwood, all sultry and sexy looking models staring back at you with the same half-lidded stare and overdone makeup. 
It makes you cringe, thinking back to the other day when you were jealous of these people. Now that you have this life, thriving and full of beauty, is that the only thing you want to show to your audience? How can they possibly relate to models who make triple their salary? What about the authenticity? The ingenuity? 
And that’s when it hits you. 
Scrambling to your computer, you search up a photographer that you know will be completely and utterly transparent. 
My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 
You know exactly what you want for next month’s issue. 
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Jungkook does not expect to see you through the peephole of his apartment, fiddling with the threads of your clothes and eyes glued to the ground. He mutters a curse under his breath, jamming his fingers between the metal double lock to swing his head out. He doesn’t even bother to open up all the way, just enough to stick his face out. 
“Jungkook, hi!” he still can’t believe you’re around. Jungkook winces at your tone, high and sounding like a teenager. He thought by now you’d be traveling the world, climbing to bigger and better things. Then again, the upper part of the city is certainly an upgrade. He just thought you’d want to be far, far away from him. “I b-brought you McDonalds.” 
You hold up a greasy bag of fast food, and his nose immediately responds to the smell of fresh fries and a quarter pounder (with cheese, of course.) It annoys him that you still know his weakness, but he isn’t going to go that easily. 
“Why are you here?” he asks a little too sharply, hands gripping the doorknob. 
“I wanted to offer you a job,” you get straight to the point, as if you know your time at his doorstep is limited. 
He scoffs, “You? Want to put my photos on Ego? You know my business extends to weddings and the occasional Bar Mitzvah. Why would you want me?” 
You frown, crossing your arms. He looks down at your attire, a nicely fitted suit on top, but the skirt is replaced with grey sweatpants. Comical, really. “I’ve always loved your photos,” you admit to him, “you know that. And they’ve gotten so much better since then.” 
The furrow between Jungkook’s brows softens a fraction, smoothed by the honesty in your voice. You’re right, you always made sure to tell Jungkook how much you loved his other talents. Namely, the photography, and sometimes his singing. He can still remember how easily you slept in his arms watching Sky City for hours, all at the melody of your favorite song. While his teachers and classmates loved to venerate his position on the team and his ability to garner attention, you encouraged him to work on the things that mattered to him the most, even in secret. 
Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 
“I don’t need your charity,” he spits, “Jimin might be able to be bought by some designer clothes and an eighty dollar steak, but not me.” 
The pain in your gaze is glaringly evident, and you don’t even try to hide that you’re upset as the paper bag falls against your lap. If there’s one thing Jungkook knows he’s good at, is hurting your feelings. 
“You think this is charity?” you whisper, hurt delicately lacing your voice. 
“Are you kidding? Last month you got Xu Minghao to photograph your spread for Ego. He’s photographed the damn Queen of England,” if you notice that he’s babbling about reading your magazine, you don’t show it in your face, “the point is, I don’t understand why you’re trying to come into my life again. I don’t want to get involved in your fancy dinner galas or anyone else from high school. So please, just go back to your picture perfect life.” 
And without another qualm he slams the door in your face, effectively shutting you out. It doesn’t feel as good as he wants it to feel, clearly. He feels even shitter than before. His eyes glaze over to his rickety coffee table, cluttered with bills and credit card payments that should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. 
He slugs himself over to his couch, throwing his body over the couch that’s way too short. His legs dangle in mid-air, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunset. The bills can wait a little longer. Seeing you was too draining. 
The nap turns into a full-fledged night’s sleep, and by the time he wakes up the sky is dark and it’s the start of a new day. 12:08, the screen of his iPhone confirms. Feeling even crustier and worse than before, his stomach decides to harden the blow and go straight for the gut. He’s sorely reminded of the food you offered him hours ago. 
Quickly pulling on a large denim jacket, he grabs his keys and heads for the 7-Eleven down the park. Nothing like a frozen pizza to fill the gut, fast and cheap. Despite the fact that it’s dark and late, there're still some stray people in the park. A few homeless, some high school stoners who are meeting in secret, and you are typing away on your MacBook. 
Wait, what? 
You’re sitting on a bench in the park, typing away without a care in the world. Shoving soggy fries that he earlier refused in your mouth, you let a couple stray potatoes hang from your lips as your eyes succumb to the screen. You look positively silly, still in a pink blazer and baggy sweatpants. 
He must have been staring a little too long, because soon enough you turn your head, gasping at his figure. You quickly avert your eyes, but don’t make any move to leave the park. That interests him further. 
Shamelessly, he calls your name. His legs get to you in an instant, towering over your tiny figure. 
“What are you doing here?”
“Uh, I’m waiting for Jimin,” your eyes flicker to your open laptop, “and working.” 
At least one of those reasons is a lie. Last time he checked, Jimin always sleeps over at Yoongi’s house on this day. He knows it’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie, but neither of you make the effort to correct it. 
“And what could you possibly be working on at 12AM?” 
“Finding a photographer,” you hunch over your laptop, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have much time and none of my usual contacts are good enough. This project is… personal.” 
It makes him want to ask further, he can’t lie and say he isn’t intrigued in the kind of vision you’re going for in your next issue. “But why can’t you work at home?” 
“Don’t wanna go,” you reply casually, “it makes me feel lonely.” 
Lonely? You feel lonely? He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the display of nonchalance. Back in high school he always encouraged you to feel confident, but not like this. “Hey, it’s nice that you feel comfortable enough to chill in the park at 12AM, but it’s really dumb. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten mugged from all that money you’re carrying around!” he gestures to your fancy clothes and laptop, “and if you feel so lonely, call up one of your rich friends I’m sure they’ll—”
“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you slam your laptop shut, darkening the two of you. “I thought you wanted me to go back to my ‘picture perfect life’, so why do you care?” you get up in his face, standing on the bench so you’re nearly eye-to-eye, “why don’t you pester those kids over there? Tell them to drink their milk and go home,” you scoff, shoving your stuff in your bag. You don’t spare him another glance as you stalk off in the other direction. 
He groans, unable to untangle himself from the mess, “Where are you going?” 
“To a park where you’re not in!” 
Despite the exchange for sweatpants, you’re still wearing shoes not fit for walking. They’re little white pumps, not too tall but not remarkably comfy either. However, that doesn’t deter you from getting the heck out of there, seemingly walking in any possible direction to get away from Jungkook. 
“You’re being ridiculous,” he chastises once his hand clasps around your hand, pulling you around. 
There’s a little resistance, as you try to hide your face to no avail. Jungkook fumbles a little, not thinking you’d be crying. But tiny, shy tears are pooling around your eyes, looking flustered at your display of emotion.
“God,” you mutter to yourself, “I feel like such a kid.” 
That strikes a chord in the twenty-something man. The last time he saw you in the flesh was when you were both kids. Young, unbridled, and stupid. Well, only Jungkook was the stupid one. 
“Do you want me to take you home?” Jungkook offers, feeling guilty about his roughness. 
You shake your head. “No, I told you I don’t want to.” 
“Can I at least call you a cab? Or a friend so you won’t get lonely?” 
“Jungkook, if I had that option would you think I’d be here right now?” he’s trying, he really is. But you’re equally as miffed about this whole situation and at a loss. The two of you engage in a staring contest. It only takes a few seconds for you to crumble, and he frowns when you shiver in your thin blazer. 
Instantly, he rips off his jacket, pulling it over your body. It’s huge on you, swallowing your body and hopefully containing some of his residual heat. 
And finally, he relents. “If you want, I’ll come over and stay until you fall asleep.” 
“Okay,” your eyes widen in instant agreement, pulling something out of your pocket. “Will you drive?” 
His eyes widen at the shiny, minimalistic car key. Your sudden one-eighty has him second guessing his decision. “You drive a Tesla?” he gapes, taking your key like he’s holding the Hope Diamond. 
You got your license in February. One month ago, and only because the instructor felt pity on you since it was your second time retaking it. The fancy car terrifies you, and you’re sure Jungkook has much more experience driving (over ten years worth.)  
You shrug, “Not very good at driving. Haven’t had much practice.”
“Um, the car drives itself?” 
“It does?” you tilt your head, dazed, “wow, technology is amazing.” 
He shakes his head, putting a hand on your back so you can lead the way. You must be tired, because it seems like your head isn’t entirely there anymore. He takes charge, buckles you in and takes a couple minutes to fumble with the car settings. Nevertheless the drive home is smooth (and it takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to not squeal in excitement when the Tesla does in fact, drive itself.) 
You lead him inside your loft like a tiny zombie, throwing your shoes to one corner and throwing your jacket on the kitchen table. 
“Must be hungry,” you can’t even form complete sentences, “there’s food in the fridge, Kook. Sorry if it’s not to your taste.” 
Shuffling away to your room, Jungkook is left to gawk at your apartment. The baseboards of your walls are crusted in pretty pearl designs, swirling around the whole expanse. There’s a television that stretches the wall of the little living room, with a sound and video game system he’s only seen in movies. Your tables are meters and meters of granite, and he wonders how the floor of your apartment can hold all this weight. 
But he supposes it’s because there’s nothing much to hold. No pictures line the walls, only vague looking art to fill up blank space. There’s no touch of warmth despite the heating system under the floor that relaxes his toes. For such a big home, he can only imagine how small you must feel in it. 
Your fridge is just as empty, decorated with a couple of sad-looking salads and some protein shakes. He sighs, grabbing two chicken salads and a banana shake and bringing it to your coffee table. It’s a little two quiet for his liking, so he turns on the television real low just to make the room feel a bit fuller. 
Halfway through one salad he realizes he probably should’ve made you eat as well. Even though these salads aren’t remotely filling, they’re much healthier than some soggy fries. A piece of limp lettuce hangs from Jungkook’s mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for soaking up all of your amenities without inviting you. After all, it is your house. Wiping some sauce from his lips he dusts off his pants, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he makes his way to your room. 
Calling your name, the only reply is the whir of the heater. He only cracks the door a tad, but he sees you slumped against the edge of the bed, bare feet hanging from the end. You barely made it, your clothes strewn across the floor, an oversized t-shirt ruched across your barely covered thighs. Without a thought he quickly scrambles to move you closer to your pillows, and then wraps your body in your plush duvet. You’re out like a light. 
You’re sleeping, so Jungkook should go home. That’s what you two agreed to. He goes back to his late dinner (early breakfast?) mindlessly listening to an infomercial on rare dollar coins. He’ll leave after he eats. 
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He didn’t leave. 
Jungkook awakes to a scream, your shrill voice echoing all the way down the hallway into your living room. It takes a second for him to register the empty white walls and the fact that he’s not in his apartment, but eventually it goes back to the point that you’re in distress. He jolts, scrambling off the couch to run to your bedroom. 
“What is it?” he exhales into your doorframe, socks sliding. 
Your hair is in a disarray, shirt rumpled and face scrunched in pain. You shove your phone in his face. “Since when did Iron Man die!” you cry, genuinely horrified at whatever entertainment article you’re reading. 
He slumps against the wall, running a hand over his dry face. “Since Endgame, obviously. That was literally two years ago. Is that why you woke me up?” 
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 
“Have you been living under a rock or something?”
“Or something,” you frown, throwing your phone across your bed, “I guess I should go get ready for work.” 
Jungkook watches as you shamelessly hop off your bed, uncaring that your shirt has ridden up, revealing the full expanse of your thighs and then some. You pull out a pair of sweats from a shopping bag, nicking off the tag to put them on your legs. 
“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 
“Uh, no,” Jungkook coughs, crossing his arms. It’s been awhile since he’s had a solid gig. Two whole weeks have been spent doing more personal work which was fine, but at the same time his bank account could beg to differ. “I’m off today.” 
“Oh, alright,” you shrug, “do you know where I can buy a good camera?” 
“Why?” 
“Gonna go take pictures,” you snatch your wallet and keys from your bedside, stuffing it in a fanny pack. He watches you curiously as you zip your bag shut, muttering something about how you can’t believe that fanny packs are back in style. Swinging the strap over your back, you brush past him. “You can stay if you want,” you add pointedly, before you slip into the bathroom. 
Jungkook doesn’t understand as to why he’s slipping into sensory overload. The house is a shell of itself and the antithesis of a rainbow. Maybe it’s the fact that he woke up ten minutes ago or how you look completely peaceful and want to leave as soon as you wake up. Or how shocked you were that Iron Man has passed and you’ve completely missed Phase 3. Or that you’re not even thinking about breakfast or not wishing him a farewell, practically throwing him into your apartment like a second home. 
He wobbles back to the couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as he drapes the fuzzy blankets over his body. He flips through the channels, before finally settling on an old episode of Sky City. 
When you walk out into the living room, you scrunch your face in pain when you make eye contact with Kim Seokjin’s on screen appearance. Oh, how things change. Jungkook knew how much you loved watching Sky City, indulging in the protagonist's attractiveness. 
“Y’know,” Jungkook says over his shoulder, “if you leave me here, I could steal whatever I want.” 
“Go ahead,” you reply flippantly, already slipping on your sneakers. “There’s nothing of value here.” 
What is wrong with you? 
“Wait!” Jungkook throws all his pride at the window, unable to conceal his worry for you. Half your body is out the doorway, and you’re looking at him like he’s grown a second head. His voice takes up the entirety of the room, startling you. “I need to come with you,” he finally settles on, looking serious. “You’re going to buy the wrong camera.” 
“Okay,” you concede immediately, throwing the keys on the couch, “you drive.”
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Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 
You don’t know how to act around him. Your heart is hurt and your body is a decade older than it was a week ago and everything in your life and mind is a complete wreck. It still aches to look at him, despite the fact that you want him around, all the time. You wish you could know a little more about your adult life, you feel like a proverbial Bambi sitting in a car worth more than your childhood home. It’s a wobbly, shaky road to adulthood, and you’re not having it. 
Jungkook sleeping over is the last thing you thought would happen last night. You didn’t even think he’d relent to coming to your house, since he was pretty hellbent on not being your photographer. 
But now he’s driving your Tesla again, after you instructed him to park the car where you parked it last time. That way, you can go back to the playground you were in the night before. You have a vision for the issue and it starts there. Fiddling around with the expensive camera Jungkook picked out, you feel his gaze burning into your shoulder. 
“Am I doing something wrong?” you ask archly, “I read the manual and everything. Or are you just being a perfectionist again?” 
“What’s wrong with being a perfectionist?” Jungkook shoots back, putting the car in park. As soon as the car stills in the parking lot, he grabs the camera from your grasp like a petulant child. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break it. Face it, you’re terrible at technology.” 
“Excuse me! I have a Samsung 25+ and a Tesla!” 
“Yeah? So why did I catch you struggling to use your pay feature on your phone when we grabbed coffee?” 
“It’s new,” you mutter under your breath. Everything is new to you. 
With a growl you snatch back the camera, and Jungkook for once doesn’t act like a baby with a sharing complex and relents. Of course, Jungkook manages to calibrate the camera and figure out the color balance before you could. This only annoys you further, wondering why Jungkook is still sticking around after all this time. 
“Alright,” you step out of the car, slinging the camera around your neck. “Thanks for driving me around, your apartment’s just down the street, right?” You dart your hand out, and Jungkook reluctantly hands over your key beeper. Maybe it’s because he seems to love the car so much, that he has a hard time giving it back. “I’ll see you around.” 
“Wait,” is that his word of the day? Wait wait wait. 
“What is it now, Jungkook?” 
He’s never seen you so full of negative emotions. You’ve been waiting for him to tire of you all day, from your clipped replies and unease ever since you two stepped out of your apartment. 
“Um,” he looks embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, “are you really going to take pictures? You always took really blurry pictures in high school.” 
The mention of high school has you icy, gripping the matte black digital camera to hold your feelings at bay. “Yes, I’m going to go take pictures because the photographer I wanted so rudely rejected me,” you revel in the way he shrinks, probably regretful already. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline.” 
He continues to follow you, all the way to the park. You make your way to a little garden, and start to take some test photos next to the little daisies that decorate the patch of dirt. You practically feel Jungkook breathing down your neck, feeling antsy everytime you click the shutter. Ignoring him is difficult, especially when he makes little noises of discomfort when you presumably do something wrong. 
“Jungkook, are you going to say something?” you seethe, not caring that the heavy camera strains your neck when it falls against your chest, “or are you just going to make me wait.”
Jungkook’s face is scrunched up, and finally he blurts, “I’m sorry.” 
“Sorry for what?” 
“For saying your life is picture perfect,” he sputters quickly, looking very sweaty. Jungkook always got sweaty when he did things a little too hard. Playing sports, thinking, campaigning on video games. “I—I didn’t mean it. I don’t know. I guess I was just upset at myself and I took it out on you.” 
“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 
“I’m upset because I—I don’t know, it’s complicated,” he plops down on the nearest bench, and while you follow him, you don’t let yourself sit next to him. If you do, you know your subconscious will want to wrap your arms around him and comfort him. That would probably be the worst possible action to perform. “I don’t really do the whole photoshoot thing. Like I said, I’m just doing some weddings and parties here and there. I shouldn’t have said those things about Jimin and how you’re only talking to us out of charity. It’s my fault for not considering how complicated your life could be too,” he looks down at the ground, shameful, “so if you still want me, I would really like to photograph for Ego. And I would also really like that camera back.” 
Unable to resist, you reach over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “I forgive you,” you reply numbly, thinking he was going to apologize for something else. You suppose he’s forgotten about that fateful prom night, just like everyone else. “It’s actually not for Ego, at least not yet. My boss is pitting us against each other, the best idea wins the cover theme.” 
“Don’t worry, we’ll win,” his face eventually breaks into a grin when you remove the camera from your body. “Come to daddy, baby,” he cooes, holding the shiny new camera in his hands like a newborn. 
“Gross,” you twitch, although you’re feeling all the more relieved knowing Jungkook will now be taking the visual reins. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the contract made up, but being paid five-hundred okay?” 
“Five-hundred a week?” 
“No, per day,” you correct, “why wouldn’t I pay you just like I pay the others?” 
Jungkook’s dark brows fly to his forehead. He practically chokes on his spit at the way you put Jungkook in high regard. A blush overtakes his visage, proud and pink as he rushes to get away from you. 
“You don’t even know my concept,” you called after him, chasing the midday sun. 
Jungkook is already in position, fitting the lens between two buildings. The afternoon sun looks like an egg yolk, melting between the clouds. “Well then is it?” he asks, bending down on one knee to get the perfect angle. 
“Well, yesterday when I thought of the idea I just wanted to be reminded of how easy being a kid was,” you don’t even know if Jungkook’s listening properly, given the rapid click click clicks of the shutter and Jungkook constantly moving around to get as many shots as possible. “I realized that not everyone can relate to the models or the clothes we advertise on Ego. Why would I want to see people I actually admire? Like, my friend’s older brother. Or Jimin, president of the drama club. Or even Jungkook, captain of the lacrosse team.” 
“So, nostalgia. The 2000s are back in style, I like it,” he replies simply, tilting the camera towards you, “pose for me.” 
“What? Jungkook,” you frown, holding a hand over your face. He doesn’t relent, continuing to snap you in different angles. 
“Oh! That was a nice one,” he turns the camera to reveal the screen of your furrowed brows, hand over your face, “looks super grunge. Totally a throwback look.” 
“Jungkook, I don’t model. I’m just the one who throws the ideas.” 
“Yeah, but. Wouldn’t it be cool if the readers of Ego could see the genius behind the paper and ink?” he gestures vaguely to your outfit, “and you’re wearing Fila. So that’s like, kind of designer?” 
“I don’t know,” you hug yourself, “I’ll think about it, okay? Let’s focus.” 
“Fine,” Jungkook stops buzzing around you, putting the camera down and following you as you walk back to your car. You don’t think you really need anymore park photos, and Jungkook seems to telepathically agree as well. 
“We need to plan some outfits and some backgrounds. I’ve already arranged a meet up tomorrow in front of our old high school with a couple of models. The school is on a grade-wide trip, so we’ll even have access to the track and field. I was also thinking disposable film? We could scan those.” 
“Alright, who are your models?” 
“Oh, you know. Just friends from school. I wanted it to be as authentic as possible. Taehyung flew back from Hamburg last night, so he said he’ll come. Jimin, obviously.” 
“Well you only had like, two friends in highschool.” 
“And you,” you clip on with a frown, “so don’t dress like a potato sack tomorrow, okay?” 
“I’m not modeling.” 
“Well, I’m still looking for a celebrity model to tack onto so. Don’t look like a chump.” you stick out your hand, while Jungkook pouts at your outstretched limb. If he feels sore that you called him a chump, he doesn’t comment on it when he clasps his larger hand in yours. “Partners?”
“Partners.” 
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“Why didn’t you tell me your celebrity model was him?” 
“I specifically told you not to dress like a paper bag. Why did you continue to do so!” 
“You didn’t specify that your model was Kim Seokjin!” 
The current conversation is hushed, hissed between large reflective light panels and a parked car that held all your rented equipment. Currently, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jimin are huddled on the bleachers of your old stomping grounds, laughing at whatever funny video Seokjin has pulled up. They’re all dressed in variants of the same sweatsuit, a combination of Taehyung’s choosing since he’s one of the many color coordinators at Ego. 
But you haven’t started yet, and you would like to get some morning shots in before it gets any warmer. Jungkook is still petulant, pretending to buy time by balancing his tripod. He’s wearing his Birkenstocks, so old they’re definitely the same pair from highschool, and yet another black sweatsuit. 
“Seokjin’s like a big, fat cheeseball,” you assure Jungkook, who’s actually shaking from being in the presence of a celebrity. “No reason to be nervous.”
“That man has literally been part of our Sitcom Sundays for three years,” he gripes, “of course I’m nervous!” 
“Just go to the car. If you want to change I’m sure Taehyung’s brought something that fits you.”
“Well if they see me change they’re gonna see I’m trying too hard,” Jungkook pouts, he actually pouts. 
“I can’t,” you turn around, your Miss Frizzle-esque solar system dress whirling around your waist. The stars twinkle, glittering into Jungkook’s eyes. “Jungkook, do whatever you want. But we need to start in ten! No, five! I’m not paying you to try on Balenciaga and Off-Brand!” 
If Jungkook is shocked by your sudden snippiness or need to get things wrapped up, he doesn’t say anything to it. For once, he’s quiet about his needs and you’re thankful for it. Once he’s gone, you have a chance to breathe. It’s all wholly overwhelming to dive right into the job. Your brain is still in 2011 unfortunately.
“Babe, everything alright?” 
Seokjin appears behind you, having ditched Jimin and Taehyung after he saw you and Jungkook argue. He smooths his hands over your biceps. You’re still unsure over the exact nature of your adult-self’s relationship, but it seems that sans sex you two are relatively close with each other. 
“M’fine,” you mumble tiredly, trying not to stiffen under his hold. You suppose Jimin isn’t going to be the friend you confide into this lifetime. “I’m just nervous. We’re doing all this work and it can potentially go down the drain after this week. What if my idea’s stupid and we’re wasting time? Jennie texted me that her concept is going to be killer and now I’m scared this concept is too aesthetically soft and people don’t care about nostalgia anymore and I feel like simultaneously throwing up and crying—” 
“Whoa whoa, who’s replaced my confident editor and where did she go?” Seokjin decidedly goes with the notion that you’re definitely not fine. He swings his neck back and forth, peering behind the bleachers and over the football field. “My confident editor would never talk bad of herself like this! She commanded a whole crew of fifty within seconds when she did the Kim Taeyeon shoot in Milan! She never cowers under a challenge, the challenge cowers to her!” and in his gallancy you no longer try to shy away, in fact you even giggle at his silly way of comforting you. “And most importantly, she’d never compare herself to a wench like Jennie.” 
Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to swipe the moisture right under your waterline, making sure any traces of your crying are undetectable. “W-wait,” you sputter, “you mean, me and Jennie aren’t actually friends?” 
He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Even now, you’re such a good actress.” 
You let Seokjin continue to hold you as the pieces in your empty mind come together. If Jennie is truly not your friend and you two have been faking it all this time, how serious is it? And if so, are you the competitive type? You know for sure Jennie is, and will she stop at nothing to make sure she gets the spread? 
This fear is combined with an equal amount of sadness. You were a little excited to have a lasting friend from college, but your mother always told you to never believe anything on the internet. You suppose those selfies of you and Jennie on your Instagram are nothing but a facade. 
But at the very least Seokjin’s care for you isn’t fake, and you’re thankful that you have at least one friend in this life. If you didn’t do this time skip, would Seokjin remain your only friend? You try not to think too hard about it, “Thanks, Seokjin. I really appreciate you.” 
“Will you appreciate me tonight then?” Seokjin makes a move to kiss your neck, and the moment is promptly ruined. 
Shoving him away you say firmly, “Touch me like that again and I’ll rip your dick off in front of this whole crew.” 
“I love it when you get feisty,” Seokjin melts, but salutes you like a drill sergeant as he runs back to the men on the bleachers. 
It’s then you feel a presence looming over your shoulder. Tall, dark, and emanating. He’s changed, in favor of some fitted jeans and a plain white shirt, paired with black boots. Jungkook is behind you, glaring over your shoulder at Seokjin. So much for showing off your professionalism. Crap, how much of that did he hear? 
“Jungkook, I–”
“Let’s start,” he mutters gruffly, stepping past you to get to the equipment. 
You slap a hand over your face. It’s going to be a long day. 
However, the hours following are probably one of the brightest hours of your life since you’ve appeared in your future-self’s body. At first Jimin was anxious at your invitation, despite being in the high school plays and being okay at public speaking, he didn’t know he’d have the potential to be a model. A couple test shots and some coaching from Taehyung, Jimin is a natural, his photogenic energy strong enough to compete toe-to-toe with Seokjin. 
You also have to hand it to Taehyung, who has been running back and forth between modeling and choosing outfits for the boys. Jimin and you didn’t run in the same group as Taehyung back in high school, but time changes things and if given the opportunity, you would’ve loved to be friends with him back then. 
By the time you are done for the day and you feel like all the possible shots have all ready been taken, you circle around the school. You previously went inside empty classrooms, posed in the cafeteria, even pretended to reenact your school rendition of RENT in the auditorium. 
Everything is mostly packed up and put into the car by the time the sun is setting, and you just wanted to perfect this one shot. 
The gymnasium looks a lot smaller than it did as a child. As a teenager, you constantly feared getting hit in the face by a stray wiffleball, or throwing up during the pacer test after the 100th lap. But now, it just looks like an old gym. 
“It smells like sweaty balls in there,” Taehyung curses, adjusting the patterned button down by smoothing down his chest. He jabs a finger in the boys locker room, where Jimin comes out with another new outfit. 
“I think the sandwich I left in senior year is still there,” Jimin adds, pulling the collar around his burgundy knitted sweater. 
The back of the gym is decorated in balloons. Overnight you managed to build a balloon ring off of Pinterest, one of your proudest moments as you made Jungkook haul the rainbow colored arc and shove it into the trunk. Seokjin is sitting directly under the arc, decorating a letter corkboard. It’s one of those cork boards all the teachers display in class, often decorated with some witty quote or a basic “Welcome to Mr/Mrs/Miss _____’s Class!” 
Jungkook is setting up the camera on a tripod, wanting to do it the old fashioned way. Aside from the freakout he had in the beginning when he realized he was photographing Kim Seokjin, he’s been quiet and strictly professional throughout the whole ordeal. It’s amazing to see this side of him, as he seamlessly transitions from shoot to shoot knowing exactly what he has in mind for each photograph. His direction is soft but impactful, and the boys have no problems following directions. 
“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 
Working like this is a rush you can’t even imagine. In high school the path you were in the process of choosing wasn’t clear cut up until this point, but now you know exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life. 
Seokjin holds the finished corkboard in the middle, a proud Class of Ego in white block letters. 
Jungkook only gets a few shots in before Seokjin bemoans, letting the corkboard fall in his lap. 
“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 
Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 
“Because you two aren’t in it!” Taehyung agrees easily, “c’mon, JK. Put your camera on timer mode and let’s have all of us in it!” 
A blush melts on Jungkook’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “What? No, that’s silly Tae. I really don’t—agh!” 
The three men are in a controlled frenzy, aiming to get their mission done. Seokjin rounds the camera and makes quick work of enabling a timer and a burst shot. Jimin pulls you by the waist, tugging you ungracefully to the center of the arc. Taehyung is doing a pretty good job of hauling your muscle hunk of a photographer, pressing his shoulders across yours. 
And finally, Seokjin hands you the corkboard. “You should be holding it. After all, you’re the brains behind it!” 
At first it feels awkward, squished between new friends and old friends. First loves and last loves. Despite his warm bicep pressing against you, Jungkook is akin to a sheet of cardboard, arm-to-arm and stiff as a board. 
“Alright people, let’s move it!” Seokjin yells unnecessarily loud, the noise echoing throughout the high walls. “Last couple shots here, and we’re not re-doing it because I’m tired as hell! So look alive and pretend to like each other!” 
The first click of the camera stuns all of you, akin to many terrible school photos where the flash disarms you and your face twists. But that click suddenly gets Jungkook into gear, and you feel him slide a hand over your shoulder, squeezing you toward him so you’re pressed against the side of his chest. He still smells like floral fabric softener, and that makes you smile. 
And suddenly you feel like you’re seventeen again, surrounded with the people you care for the most. 
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“So, the tabloids are true huh?” Jimin smirks, waving a flimsy fry in your face. 
“T-tabloids?” you sputter, dabbing the ketchup off your cheek. The greasy burger slips off your grip and onto your plate.  Your expression says it all, it’s painfully innocent and genuinely confused as you attempt to swallow the cheese and lettuce as fast as possible. 
The crew sans Seokjin is eating a very late dinner with you at the restaurant of their choice. They put it to a vote, while you desperately wanted some McDonalds everyone else voted for a more high end restaurant. After all, you’re paying. 
“Ah, don’t try playing coy with us,” Taehyung jests, “the office talks.” 
“Well, whatever you’ve heard isn’t true,” you huff, crossing your arms. “At least, not anymore.” 
“What?” Taehyung bugs out, “I thought you loved your no strings attached relationship with Jinnie.” 
“I guess I did,” you frown, deflating against the plush booth, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I liked back then.” 
You resume eating your burger, trying to ignore the worried look Jimin sends you. He reaches over the table to press his thumb to the little 11s in your forehead, a product of stress. “Does your head still hurt?” he asks. 
Jungkook’s chewing slows considerably. He’s been strangely quiet this evening, opting to order a handful of appetizers and gorging on every single edible thing on the table like a glutton. But at Jimin’s question he turns his head to look at you, “Why would your head still hurt?” 
“She hit her head when she went out drinking with Seokjin last week,” Jimin supplies, “messed with her memory.” 
“Chim,” you frown, gently shoving him off you, “I’m fine now. Pretty much caught up. Just reevaluating my life choices, okay?” 
“How could Seokjin let that happen?” Jungkook asks, putting his fork down. 
“He wasn’t even there,” you shake your head, trying to clear Seokjin’s name as fast as possible. After all, this lie is completely fabricated, a blanket to cover the magical properties your true nature being here has. “I’m fine, Jungkook. Don’t worry about me.” 
He huffs, resuming his meal. “Wasn’t worried,” he disarms, reaching over the table to snatch a mozzarella stick. 
You cover up your disgusted expression by wiping your chin with a soft blue napkin. Jungkook is really out here inhaling the whole table and being a bit of a jerk. 
“Well,” Taehyung claps his hands together, regarding all of you with a closed-lipped smile stretched so wide you’re worried he’ll break. “This is nice. I can’t imagine a time where I’d be reunited with you three. It’s weird. But a good weird.” 
“Ditto,” Jimin echoes, lifting his glass to clink with Taehyung’s. Throwing an arm over your shoulder he remarks, “could’ve never imagined my ‘ol best friend would’ve wanted to pursue fashion.” 
“What?” you glower, pinching his thigh, “I love fashion! I spent months planning my Clueless Halloween costume and our summers cosplaying!” 
“Right, Cher,” teased Jimin, “that yellow plaid suit that made you look like a bottle of mustard?” 
“You little–” 
Taehyung begins to laugh when you start to tickle Jimin in the sweet spots, causing Jimin to curl his leg around your ankle and pull you onto his lap for a hair pull. It’s all in fun and nothing hurts, but you’re so caught up in it you’re sure people are worried about your well-being. Even Jungkook is laughing, egging Jimin on while Taehyung weakly attempts to pull you away. 
If you could rewrite the last ten years of your life, this moment would define the remake. 
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“Why are we here?” 
“For research purposes.” 
“Are you sure the actual purpose is because you don’t feel like working in the office?” 
“Jungkook,” you groan, tired of his infinite amount of negativity. “This was our senior trip! Of course I want to get a couple shots in before my big presentation.” 
“You’re risking my baby’s life,” Jungkook cradles the digital camera closer to his chest, swaddling it between its felt case. Ever since you purchased the camera, Jungkook has been unable to let it go. This adoption is both equal parts cute and strange, and you’re a little too scared to ask for it back. 
“I promise, no big rides,” you roll your eyes, “your baby will be fine.” 
The local amusement park is a fan-favorite amongst the city-goers, a reprieve from the hustle and a chance for you to spend your copious amounts of money on overpriced sugar and popcorn. The last time you went here was two weeks ago—in your mind. In Jungkook’s mind it was over ten years ago and he probably doesn’t even remember the time spent roaming the artificial floor and the infinite amount of bubbles that seem to eject from the air to add to the whimsical charm. 
Jungkook isn’t even paying attention, citing it as an artist block because he’s going through sensory overload with the amount of stimuli in the crowd. Screaming teenagers wailing under him from a nearby rollercoaster, the smell of sticky caramel apples pumping through the diffuser stands, and the amount of gaudy color that decorates every single logo of the park. 
He plops himself down on a nearby bench while you wait in line to get some food. It’s early in the morning and a weekday, so you figure this is the best time to get some photographs in without any passerbys. You figure Jungkook will get the hang of it once he has some food in his stomach. 
“A funnel cake?” Jungkook is bewildered when you return with the confection in hand, “it’s ten A.M.” 
You raise a brow, knowing how much Jungkook loves sweet foods. The funnel cake especially, he ate at least three when you went to your senior trip, one for every meal. But you’re an adult, or at least posing as one, and you shrug loftily, plucking a hot piece of fried dough from your plate. “Alright then,” you reply, “I’ll just eat the whole thing.” 
Once the cake touches your tongue, you can’t help but make an exaggerated moan in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook squirming like an earthworm next to you, either from the scrumptious smell of funnel cake or the way you’re so enthusiastically eating it. 
“W-wait,” Jungkook’s stomach growls at the perfect moment, “I want some. But I don’t want to get the camera dirty, pass me a napkin.” 
“I can just feed it to you!” you quip innocently, immediately ripping off a piece and shoving it between Jungkook’s pink lips. You feel a little slick in the finger, saliva briefly coating your digits before you pull away. You swallow, feeling a familiar tingle in your tummy and a sickening heat low in your belly. 
You fight back a sigh, wondering if your libido also did a massive growth spurt in your twenty-seven years of age. 
Jungkook is placated at the touch of food, and you take turns feeding yourself and feeding him while more customers trickle in the park. Confectioners sugar dusts Jungkook’s long-sleeved tee, the white color staining the dark fabric. You reach to pat his chest, ignoring the toneness that still remains from high school. 
“Alright, let’s ride,” you declare, pulling Jungkook up once you’re done eating. 
“Do we have to?” 
“What happened to the adrenaline junkie I once knew?” 
“He realized being an adrenaline junkie doesn’t make money and he should stay on the ground.” 
“Alright, Negative Nancy,” your reply has no bite to it, and suddenly you wished you invited Jimin or Seokjin before Jungkook. Jungkook may have the talent, but he certainly doesn’t have the attitude. You don’t even get why he’s still defensive, after all you thought he apologized in the beginning. It’s not like you’re the problem. 
“Gimmie your hand,” your thoughts cut out when Jungkook offers his large hand in front of yours, palm up. 
“Why?”
“C’mon,” he whines, settling for snatching your hand instead. His palms feel larger, rougher as they enclose your smaller hand. “Now hurry up and walk in front of me. I’m gonna take a picture.” 
You already have a feeling as to what this picture is going to look like, so you scrunch your nose. “That is so cheesy.” 
“It’s for the nostalgia factor, now hurry up and pretend we’re on a date.” 
You roll your eyes but relent, jogging a few steps ahead so you can get into character. This pose used to be a popular one, where the sweet boyfriend would be dragged around by the girlfriend’s hand, tugging him to wherever she wanted to go. It’s super cliche but if Jungkook figures it’ll fit your theme, you’ll do it. Eventually you forget that you’re holding his hand, and point ahead to some rides you want to try out. 
“Oh, Jungkook! Remember that one?” you point to a teacup ride, with guests spinning vigorously through their own seat. “Jimin got so sick he fell asleep in the car for an hour!” 
Jungkook doesn’t reply, so you turn around and face him. Click. Jungkook smirks at his little trick, which makes you rip your hand from his and walk further. 
“Hey, hey,” he chuckles, the first smile of the day. Food really does make him peaceful. “The shot looks good, you look good.” 
“Could’ve just asked me to turn around and pose,” you huff. 
“Then it would ruin the fun,” he replies, “now c’mon, let’s ride the teacups. For old time’s sake.” 
Ten minutes later and the both of you are soon regretting that decision. You’re once again slumped on the bench, this time unable to keep your head up so you rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder while he leans on your head. 
“Haven’t rode that since I was a teenager,” Jungkook moans, holding his stomach. “Remind me not to eat so fast before getting on that kind of ride.” 
You mirror his expression, feeling green. “Is this what late-adult life feels like?” 
“Yep,” Jungkook replies, unbeknownst of how shocked you are at how weak your body has become. “You wake up with back pain, pre-arthritis from all the typing you’ve done over the last decade, and a lot of stress. Definitely not the fantasy you’d imagine from your 20s.” 
“You think you’d be less stressed if you kept your lacrosse scholarship?” 
“Nah, I think I saved myself,” Jungkook shakes his head, “before I could be any more awful than I already was.” 
You refuse that notion, sending him a bitter smile. “Well, look at me. I became awful right after high school.” 
“I didn’t mean you—”
“I know,” you hold up a hand to stop him. The two of you follow a red path up the hill, leading to a simple cable car ride. It’s a slow travel ride, made to get from one side of the park to the other with a beautiful view over the lake. “But you see those tabloid articles. They must be true.” 
“I—I didn’t think they were all true,” Jungkook’s lying through his teeth to make you feel better, but you don’t care. “Why do you sound unsure?” 
You shrug, “Probably wasn’t sober for most of my bad decisions,” considering your friendship with Seokjin and his boisterous drinking attitude, you wouldn’t be surprised, “If they weren’t true, I believe Jimin and I would’ve stayed friends. I can’t imagine why I left my home like that. But I guess it doesn’t matter too much because I came back. And I mean, we’re here together doing work,” you gesture between the small space between each other, “I think that counts for something.”  
The two of you walk in silence for a bit, contemplating. The line to the cable car isn’t long but it’s slow, considering the cable only moves a couple meters a second. The take-off area is a risen slab of concrete, and the cars are continuously moving so you have to hop on one car as soon as another guest exits. 
There’s a little bit of space between it, a centimeter gap that could be nerve wracking if there’s no staff around. You think nothing of it as you fiddle on your phone, waiting for the staff member to let you and Jungkook in on the next car. 
Jungkook enters first, taking great care to cradle the camera in one hand so it doesn’t sway against the car. The car swings a little as well, and Jungkook holds out a hand for you to grab. 
Instead you focus on how the once bright glassy pink is sun-ravished, faded and rusting on the metal door flaps. The color is almost pearlescent, vastly different than the vivid color you saw two weeks ago. You almost want to reach out and touch it, wondering where that quality went. 
“Bun, be careful!” 
The tip of your heel nicks on the stepping stone, slipping like butter as you topple forward. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hauling you into the car just as the metal door locks into place. The hard plastic of the camera digs into your chest uncomfortably as you plop on top of Jungkook, between his legs as half his thighs rest against the uncomfortable seat. 
“Were you not watching where you were going?” Jungkook huffs, blowing his bangs over his forehead. 
Instead of an artful answer you blurt, “You, you called me Bun.” 
His eyes widen at your response, and his grip loosens around your body. His eyes dart anywhere but your face, his cheeks ruddied and stained coral as he moves to remove you from his body. “It was a slip of the tongue,” he coughs, turning on his camera and getting shots of the lake. 
You huff in response, sticking to your side of the carriage. “I missed it,” you murmur to the wind, although you make yourself loud enough for him to hear. 
You try to bury your sour expression in your sleeves, just to hide how absolutely childish you feel. You don’t even care that Jungkook is trying to take pictures of you looking out the view, only trying to eradicate the feelings that are still down deep in your blood. Even the twenty-seven year old Jungkook is charming, albeit in a completely different way. 
The grown, mature Jungkook toots to his own horn. He isn’t concerned about a team or an image, and gave it all up to pursue an art he loves. The lacrosse jerseys exchanged for bulky long sleeves, the sport for a camera, and a mask for his true image. 
“Let’s go,” Jungkook takes your hand again when the ride stops, not letting go until you’re on steady ground. You figure he must think you walk like a toddler barely on her first mile. 
Would Jungkook like you even as an adult? With all this money, this power and this confidence you envisioned as a seventeen-year-old, it still doesn’t feel enough for him. In fact, you feel like a sore thumb sticking out, decorated in silly rumors and expensive clothes that separate you far from your roots. 
“Hey,” Jungkook touches your arm, pointing to a basketball carnival game, “remember this one?” 
“Yeah,” forcing a smile, you follow him to the small crowd that starts to form around the basketball game. The baskets are a short distance from the player, but so high up that it’s hard to tell the shape of the hoop. “I tried to tell you that it was completely rigged. From an angle you can see it’s still oval-shaped.” 
“And I told you it didn’t matter if the hoop was an octagon, I’d get you that prize,” he jerks a thumb to the prize booth, where a blue Piplup plush sits proudly with all the other starter Pokemon. “And I did.” 
“It’s still in my room,” you reply proudly, even though Jungkook is acting almost immaturely smug. “I, I mean it’s still in my room in my parent’s house. It’s probably lonely because my parents have been on a cruise for almost two weeks.” 
He raises a brow, eyes drifting to the booth. “Should I win another one to keep your bed in the city warm?” 
“That sounded oddly sexual.” 
“You know what I mean,” and Jungkook’s rolling up his sleeves, handing you the camera. 
“Jungkook,” you whine when he pulls out a roll of bills from his pocket, as if he prepared for this moment, “Jungkook c’mon—I don’t need any stuffed animals. Ugh.” 
You swear that the majority of your day is spent watching Jungkook blow cash on a low-quality stuffed animal with packaging pellets for the inside. Turns out carnival technology has also enhanced over the years, and it takes both your whining and the clerk’s whining to stop Jungkook from blowing his entire wallet to get one basket in. Eventually the staff relents and lets Jungkook take a Piplup keychain instead, glumly handing it over to you. 
“I like this better,” you chirp, clipping the ring onto your car keys, “now I can bring Piplup everywhere.” 
A small, barely there smile appears on Jungkook’s face. 
The rest of the day melts away like that, and before you know it the sun is slipping into the horizon and you’re being dropped off at your apartment. Jungkook even insists to walk you to your door, because your prizes are heavy. (Yes, he went back for the oversized Piplup.) 
It’s all too familiar, the way the walk upstairs is achingly slow, as if the moment is stretching itself down the hallway. How Jungkook looks so prideful holding the fruits of his labor, following you with a tug of your hand because the prize is too big for Jungkook to see straight. 
At the same time it’s different. The way you wobble around the hallway because you’re a little tipsy from wine flights is noticeable, even cute. How easy it is to not feel nervous when you clutch at his hand. How you two look like a seasoned couple, coming home from an all-day date. 
It ends at the front door, and you crack it open so you can slip your prizes through the crack. 
“Thanks, Jungkook,” you hold up the SD card that held all the precious memories of this week. 
This is where you part ways. You’ll spend the rest of the night editing your presentation, while Jungkook promised to go to a bar with his friends. A little part of you hoped you’d be invited, but you knew that would be impractical considering you have work in the morning. 
“Break a leg,” he says, leaning on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets, “you’ll do great. You’ve always been meant to do great things.” 
The investment he lays on you is insurmountable, and you feel yourself flush with simultaneous excitement and anxiety. Unknowing how to calm your nerves, you give him a small “thank you” and put your hand on the knob to slip away. 
“Wait—” 
You blink, a deer in the headlights as Jungkook swoops down and kisses you. 
You’ve received kisses—kisses reserved for a twenty-seven year old, before. Seokjin is an eager lover, and you felt it that fateful morning and even during your photoshoot when he tried to be sneaky and pull you away. Fleeting bites, kisses to the neck that are wet and hot.
Jungkook’s kiss does not feel like that. It feels like home. It feels like coming home after a long day of work, wrapping yourself in an old afghan and a hot cup of tea. The feeling of hot laundry, fresh front the dryer and smelling of floral softener. It tastes like ten years lost in a void, returning to your senses and lighting you up.
He holds you as if you’ll disappear right in front of him. Large hands cup your face, like a precious thing he never wants to let go. Your hands can do nothing but grapple after his, nails digging into his skin. 
“Good night, Jungkook,” you send him a lovestruck smile, a puppy love face. 
“Good bye, Bun,” he replies simply, jogging down the hallway. 
Being twenty-seven starts to feel a little more like heaven. 
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Jennie used to annoy you in high school, but now she just down right scares you. 
Her presentation is one straight out of a thriller, with red shadow lights and neon green splattered in the dark room. Her models are intense, her designs are beautiful but overwhelmingly chaotic, and the whole affair is rather grotesque. The headline Fashion Suicide glares at you in a morbid scarlet font. 
Hoseok sends her a tight-lipped smile, and presses a button on his desk. “I need my antacids, Krystal,” Hoseok deadpans. 
Nothing betrays Jennie’s wicked expression, in fact her smirk widens at Hoseok’s fear. 
You on the other hand, are cool as a cucumber when you walk up to the front of the conference room. In fact, you barely have to say anything as the presentation presents itself. Jungkook took the liberty of making a video compilation for you, one that they could use in YouTube and Instagram promotions. 
“This, is preserving our youth,” you declare proudly, letting the video play. The music that accompanies it is very coming-of-age, like a yearbook slideshow of all the pictures you took. Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin hold their arms around each other in matching attire, looking like friends for life. There’s even some videos of you and Jungkook at the park, playfully arguing at each other. “I’m tired of seeing people who could care less about my life, who I can’t relate to.” 
“This issue is for the unsung heroes—my best friend’s older sibling, the captain of the football team, and the black sheep with a dream.” 
The video cuts to Jungkook, looking ultra cool at the camera while he’s dictating Seokjin’s moves. It was taken on your phone, and you’re zooming in on Jungkook’s serious face before it breaks into a laugh, eyes crinkling and bunny teeth showing at whatever stupid thing Seokjin said. 
And finally, the video fades into a mock cover. The five of you are beaming at the camera, cheek-to-cheek as you hold up the placard: Ego: Class of Youth. 
Needless to say, the issue is yours. 
You ignore Jennie’s icy stare as you leave the room to negotiate with the creative teams on a set schedule. However, it seems that you can’t get a bit of rest when Jennie waits for you in your office.
“Jennie, get off of my desk,” you frown, watching a coffin-tipped nail flicking against a photograph of you holding hands with Jungkook in the amusement park. It hangs on a corkboard, standing up with all the other ideas that you and Jungkook have spent the last week meticulously planning.The black enamel scratches at your smiling face. You are not having this, not after all your hard work and all the meetings that have just been planned. 
Her feet dangle in the air, kicking back and forth as she sings your name. “You’re still such a child,” she sighs dramatically. “In fact, I think your cute little-wittle idea would suit something more like Highlights or Disney Monthly.”
“You’re just upset I did better than you,” you cross your arms.
Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 
“You’re right,” Jennie turns a 180 and gives you a bright, candy-coated smile. “Your idea is so good, it doesn’t suit Ego. In fact, I’m sure the editors at Mono will pay a pretty penny.” 
“Excuse me?” 
“Ugh, you are such a fake.” Jennie giggles, “now, did you send this idea to Namjoon yet? Their publishing date is two weeks before ours, so I’m sure they’re getting to work on this whole Throwback Thursday spread.” 
You can’t believe the words coming from Jennie’s mouth. Before all of this, just how awful of a person were you? How could you sabotage your company on the regular, just to get paid a little extra dough for a rival company? It makes you think about what could’ve possibly changed. Had leaving your friends without a care in the world made you into this lost adult, grappling at the seams for attention? In college, did Jennie coerce you into being manipulative and backstabbing, and because without Jimin and needing confidence in a friend, you reluctantly agreed?
The coffee from this morning starts to back up in your throat, but you immediately tamp it down. No, you can’t be pushed around like this. You can’t keep pushing people around. You don’t want a life like this, and if you ever return to your old life, you’ll damn make sure you’ll create a future without Jennie in the picture. 
“I’m not going to send anything to Mono, and I’ve already fessed up to Hoseok,” you lift your nose in the air, voice impeccably clear for someone who’s absolutely bluffing. But Jennie’s face hits the ground, immediately buying your lie. You suppose you did become a good actress after ten years. Maybe Seokjin taught you a few pointers. “So if I were you, I’d swallow your tongue before words get around. I worked it out but don’t be surprised if a pink slip comes your way.” 
Turns out that no matter what, high school never ends. There will always be backstabbers and freaks and geeks. A mean girl that you subconsciously try so hard to appease, a grade that defines your life, and drama up to the neck. 
“He doesn’t like you, y’know,” Jennie whispers, but the words are loud and clear and you know exactly who she’s talking about. “Never had, and never will.” 
“You’re wrong,” you hold your hands, clasping them together to keep them from trembling, “he likes me.” 
So you leave the office, determined to prove yourself. That kiss last night was nothing short of magical, and it took a lot of strength for you to not drive up to Jungkook’s apartment in the morning in the hopes for another one. You pick up a pizza near his place, filling it up with your favorite toppings on one half and his favorites on his. A bottle of peach champagne is nestled between your arms. In the bathroom while waiting for your pizza, you’ve wriggled out of your tight suit and into a blue hoodie and bicycle shorts. Tonight, you’re celebrating. 
You’re vibrating as you’re knocking eagerly on his front door, excited to tell him the news. You hear a rustle from the couch, and some blankets shifting about. He must’ve passed out after going to the bar, how cute. 
But when the door opens, the vision in front of you is far from cute.
A woman, with cat eyes and a slim figure, tilts her head at you. She’s dressed in a large white shirt, transparent enough to show her lacy black bra and panties. Bruises decorate her neck and thighs, like red and purple gems. Her long black hair swishes, slightly frizzy at the bottom. 
“Can I help you?” her voice is sultry and velvety. “Are you looking for JK?” 
It’s obvious as to what transpired. Jungkook dipped after kissing you and fucked another woman. A woman who’s the complete opposite of you. Someone flirty and sexy and willing to give Jungkook what he wants. You don’t know who you should be mad at. 
“Who’s at the door?” Jungkook calls from the inside, and you nearly drop your bottle at the sound of the rasp. They must’ve had a fuckfest if they’re just waking up now.
Your cheeks are burning. Your heart is aching. And the vile that bubbled up from Jennie’s tirade is now resurfacing. From the way your eyes are watering, you must look like a crybaby. 
“Say, JK,” the woman closes the frame tighter around her small head, preventing you from seeing inside and for Jungkook to peer, “do you have any pathetic ex-girlfriends?” 
“No,” comes the muffled reply, “come back to bed, it’s getting cold without you,” the pizza starts to burn uncomfortably against your grip, “why the random question?” 
“Dunno, seems like you’ve had at least one.” 
At that moment, your savior appears in grey jeans and a beige hoodie. Jimin walks up to the floor, clutching a bag of groceries. It’s not hard to put two and two together as he spots you looking incredibly small in front of the strange woman, trying so hard not to break down. 
Your tears finally fall when Jimin reaches you. “Wrong room,” you mutter under your breath, quickly following your old best friend when he shoves you in his apartment. 
No words need to be explained when Jimin leaves the groceries on the coffee table and he’s pulling you onto his lap. You clutch him like a koala, rubbing mascara and blush all over his clothes as you sob. He pats your back and soothes your hiccups by offering you a glass of water. The stages of your meltdowns are pretty cut and dry, even after ten years. He still encourages you to finish the whole glass. He makes sure you have something to eat. He cuts your pizza into little bite sized pieces and feeds you. He doesn’t pressure you to talk until you’re ready, although he has a hunch as to what’s going on. 
And when you talk, he doesn’t expect a firm, “Take me home,” from you. 
“O-okay,” Jimin agrees immediately, pulling you into a sitting position. “Uptown, right? We can call an Uber or something and order from a restaurant.” 
“No,” you reply firmly, “Home-home. I want to go back to my parent’s house.” 
“That’s fine too,” he squeezes your shoulder, accepting the fob you hold out to him, “it’ll take about an hour, but I think the drive will be nice.” 
So you two sneak off into the sunset, clutching twin slices of pizza as you roll away into your Tesla. Jimin is right, ten minutes into the drive and you’re soothed by his smooth driving and the scent of fried cheese and dough. Your friend has been calm all this time, so you figure this is the right time for him to pop off. Again, this is also part of your breakdown routine. 
“Say, does this thing do calls?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the settings on your steering wheel, “Tesla, call Jeon Jungkook.” 
“Jimin,” you say weakly, although the little malicious side of you wants to goad him on. You don’t bother to fight the best friend territorialism, you just watch as his hands clutch at the steering wheel as the speakers ring. 
Jungkook picks up on the second ring, “Hey!” he says brightly, and it makes your chest pang to know how oblivious he is, “how did the presentation go?” 
“Fuck you, Jungkook!” you cover your free hand on your ear at Jimin’s shrill yell, louder than the speakers that carry Jungkook’s voice. “Fuck you for breaking my best friend’s heart twice!” 
The silence is deafening. It’s scary, like you could slash a butter knife right through the tension. 
Jimin continues, “I can understand high school because you were a real doofus, but this! You fucking lead my best friend on, only to fuck another girl right under her nose! She came all the way to your apartment from a long-ass day at work to celebrate and you ruin that day! I thought you’ve grown for the better but turns out nothing has changed since prom night. You’re still the stupid, confused little boy that doesn’t want to admit how they really feel,” you gasp at the blow, watching Jimin’s gritted teeth as he zooms down the freeway on a mission. “Good fucking riddance, Jeon!” 
Jimin punches the “hang up” button. A couple seconds of heavy breathing, and he turns to you with a gentle smile. 
“So, you want to listen to Taylor Swift’s new album?” 
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Your room is lost in time. The Hunger Games novels are stacked on your shelf, looking old and worn. A Glee poster hangs over your four-poster bed, the yellow and red faded and the corners hanging by a thread from the old tape. The sheets are a pale pink, ruffly and definitely not in style anymore. When you sit on it, it creaks uncomfortably. 
You hug yourself, tucking your knees in as Jimin marvels at the room with an equal amount of awe. 
“If you could, would you go back to high school?” Jimin asks, sitting at the edge of your bed. 
With a lazy shrug, you smile at your collection of polaroids that are hanging above your vanity. You’re still hurt, but the pain is no longer rolling in waves. “Maybe,” you reply, “probably would’ve taken you to Europe with me.” 
He chuckles, “Is that the only thing you would change?” 
“If I knew what I knew now?” you tilt your head, “I don’t know.” 
Jimin gets off your bed, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I’m gonna raid the kitchen and see if we can make something for dinner, yeah? Since your parents are on vacation and your fridge is probably empty, don’t  judge me if there’s only Totino’s pizza rolls and nuggets in the freezer.” 
When Jimin leaves your room, you quietly close the door and lock it. You lean against the cracked wooden door, falling onto the carpet and letting the tears fall. Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? Evading pain and working too hard and trying everyday to stay afloat? Is adult life always going to be this difficult?  
These past two weeks have been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Major highs and major lows, and after today you thought you reached the end of the ride. However, it’s looking like the ride has no destination in mind, rolling in waves and finding a new hill or loop to catch you off-guard. 
“Are you kidding—how did you know we were here?” Another corkscrew. 
“You’re a turtle on the road, Jimin. Now move out of the way.” 
Jungkook’s voice startles you, and you tense when you see the gold door knob jiggle. Of course as strong as Jimin is, he’s no match for Jungkook. You hear Jimin grumble to curse Jungkook out, and the sound of him stomping down the stairs. 
“Hey, open up. Please,” Jungkook’s voice is weak and strained, and you only hug yourself tighter as the knocks continue. “Or, don’t. It seems like you can listen to me perfectly from here. I can hear your breathing.” 
You don’t say a peep, preferring to let everything fizzle out. Hopefully Jungkook will give up, say a pathetic sorry and be on his merry way. You don’t know why he’s followed you all the way over here, why would he bother coming when the damage is already done. 
There’s a slide of fabric across wood, and you can feel the door shake against your back as Jungkook leans on his side out in the hallway. 
“Back in high school, Jennie proposed that I date you to get back at you for stealing Jennie’s sewing sample and getting the higher grade,” you close your eyes, letting the story unravel. “She wanted to build you up before breaking you down, and back then I was vulnerable and thrived on attention, so I thought nothing of it.” 
You hear a breathy exhale from his side, as if it pains him to continue, “But obviously, it wasn’t true and I only realized it until I was way too deep. I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you. We were so wrapped up in this relationship I even convinced myself it was real, until Jennie said she’d crush you at prom night.
“I should’ve tried harder to convince us not to go. I should’ve told Jennie to fuck off. I should’ve come clean. I should’ve done something,” his fist bangs against your door, the vibrations of the impact thrumming in your back, “seeing you so beautiful in that dress all heartbroken because I didn’t act sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Hearing him pour his heart out is like watching your memories in his shoes. The pieces find homes and paint a picture left unfinished. 
“And then when you showed up at my doorstep, I was so angry. I knew you felt it. But I wasn’t upset at you, I was upset at myself. I felt so fucking guilty. I hated how easy it was for you to let me back into your life. I hated how easy it was to fall for you all over again. I knew how much I didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it to me and I was too selfish to refuse. I had so much fun, the most fun I’ve had in awhile. 
“I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t intend for it to I just, I couldn’t help myself. And then I was so scared that I turned away and made the second biggest regret to date.
“But it proves that we’re not meant to be together. I don’t deserve you,” the last part is hushed, a nail in the coffin, “we can’t turn back the time, but if I could I would change it all. I would be by your side and make your world even better than it is right now. I’m sorry it’s too late.” 
You clutch your mouth, suppressing the cries that muffle through the door. You hear Jungkook get up from your old carpet, turn the other way and head downstairs. 
Your first love just closed the chapter for you. His words show how much he cared for you, but didn’t know how to express it. How immature he was, how he realized everything too late. And now, he wants to set you free. Even if it is a good thing, it still tears you to shreds. 
Moving to your vanity, you pull out the chair and lean your head on the table, eyes poking through your hair. You look awful. The skin under your waterline is puffy and your eyes are red and bloodshot. Your forearms feel greasy, and you lift them up to reveal glitter painting the entirety of your skin. Your eyes dart to the open glitter, the package that Jimin gifted to you that fateful prom night. The compact is broken in half and left on the table, probably a product of your younger cousins fiddling through your old room. 
Ignoring the sticky feeling, you let yourself continue to cry. You feel like you’re stuck in the bathroom of the prom venue, waiting for an opportunity to sneak out and go. 
But you want nothing more than to go back to that moment. As amazing as your twenty-seven year old life is, you’re not ready for it. You don’t want a life without Jungkook, or a life having to constantly catch up and mend your relationship with Jimin. You don’t want to be the backstabbing bitch that tips off other magazines, or the two-faced woman who messes around with others for the sake of pleasure.
You long to go back. You long to live and grow. To be seventeen and have time to grow in-between. 
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When you lift your head from your vanity, you’re ten years younger.
You scream. 
Your parents dash to your room with a kitchen knife and a confused face. With a wary smile and a teary gaze you say that it’s only a pimple. Your mother giggles and drops the knife, hugging you and helping you conceal the invisible mark. The hug is so warm and so missed that you nearly sigh in content. You’ve missed them. 
It’s a little strange to think well beyond your years, your brain still reeling from the trip you’ve just had. Your hands smooth over your body, the previous curves and maturity hidden away in your skin. That’s okay, you don’t mind waiting anymore. There’s much more important things at hand. 
If Jungkook isn’t going to realize his mistakes until it’s too late, you have to speed up the process. 
Stealing your parent’s keys and hopping in your Accord, you drive off to Jungkook’s. Hair and makeup not done, and still in your plain shirt and jeans. An hour from now, Jungkook will text you saying his car is down and he’ll meet you at the venue. 
It’s still rush hour, so he doesn’t notice when you park a few houses down. He’s sitting on his front porch, looking out the road. There’s really nothing in front of him, he’s just staring aimlessly, probably nervous about what’s about to go down tonight. You suppress a sigh, engraving the vision to memory. He looks great in his fitted black suit and tie, a little silver pocket square on the breast to match your dress. 
He gets up quickly when he sees you, as if caught in the act. Staring at your plain clothes he asks, “Bun, why aren’t you dressed? Prom’s soon—”
“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 
You see it in his eyes. Vulnerability. No longer do you feel insecure, the future told you that Jungkook genuinely did care for you back then. Or in this case, right now. His usual cheery expression crumples at your feet, and his hands fall at his sides. It feels a little unfair, knowing that you have experience under your belt, and Jungkook’s experiencing these feelings for the first time, unprepared. 
“What?” he wilts, “why?” 
“I know about Jennie’s plan,” you say instantly, unfazed. You give him a tight-lipped smile when realization hits his face. “So I know this whole relationship is orchestrated. The sewing sample fiasco is wrong, obviously. But I’m not going to get mad at you, I know she played you as much as she played me,” you clasp the straps of your purse, stopping you from fidgeting, “we graduate in a few months anyway. We don’t have to see or talk about this ever again. You should go enjoy your prom night with your other friends.” 
The present-day Jungkook is still young and confused. He’s at a loss, looking like he’s on sensory overload as he absorbs all the information. You see his eyes flicker to where your Accord is parked, your prom dress hanging on one of the arm pulls. You never even pulled it out of the bag. 
“Here,” you pull his corsage from your purse, placing the white rose atop the porch. If you try to put it on him, you fear you may never leave. With a determined huff, you turn around in the direction of your car.
“Where are you going?” he asks, clutching the railing of his porch, “what about prom?” 
“I have other plans,” you shrug over your shoulder, “have a good night.” 
You don’t look back, although you feel Jungkook’s stare burning in your head. You take great care in going into drive and punching in a new destination in your clunky GPS. This time you have to do things one at a time, once you get your Tesla ten years from now, you’re sure this process will be much easier. 
Jimin’s family comes out of the airport, looking impeccable as always. Ten years younger, with puffy cherub cheeks and bright eyes. To your surprise (but also all things considered, it’s Jimin), your best friend comes out in a three-piece suit. It’s burgundy, and suits his dark hair well. He places his luggage into your car, hugs his family good-bye and waits for them to depart in their cab. 
“You are all dressed up, and for what,” you chuckle, driving out of the airport.
“Well, when you sent that voicemail that you’d be waiting for me, I changed in the bathroom,” Jimin quips, already fiddling with your radio to play some poppy overplayed music, “but why aren’t you dressed? I thought we were going to be fashionably late to prom. Spill.”
“Hm, let’s talk about it in the morning. I wanna enjoy my prom night,” and you reach over to ruffle Jimin’s soft black strands, “y’know, you’d look really sexy as a blond.” 
He pulls down your mirror, positioning it over his face. Pursing his plush lips, he tilts his head. “Yeah, maybe when I’m older,” he grins at his reflection, “so if we’re not going to prom, let’s go get pizza.” 
So the two of you get pizza. But not before you take your prom pictures. Your parents meet you at the park with their old digital camera, ready for your impromptu photoshoot. Jimin uses an old tarp to cover the car up while you change in the car, shimmying in your sparkly silver tulle dress. Your hair is held up and away from your face, looking clean enough to be presentable as you pose for the camera. The two of you pick yellow dandelions from the grass, matching flowers as last minute dates. Your parents coo and are happy for you, knowing that even if you don’t attend the actual dance, the pictures will last forever and you’ll smile at them for years. 
Eventually you tell Jimin about Jungkook and the whole fiasco (sans the ten year mental time jump.) The reaction is expected, Jimin says he wants to fuck Jungkook up. Surprisingly for him, he doesn’t have to do much to console you. In fact, you sip coolly from your smoothie and say Jungkook will probably let Jimin get a punch in even though Jungkook can bench press his tiny body in half. But you tell him you’re okay, and all you want to do is go home and binge watch. 
Jimin carries the pie in his lap while you pull up your driveway. The smell of toasty cheese and fresh dough fill your car. 
“I want to watch Sky City,” Jimin sing-songs, “Kim Seokjin is God’s gift!” 
You crinkle your nose, “He’s alright.” 
“What! You thought he was so hot like, last week.” 
“Things change.” 
Jimin makes it to your room first, saying he’ll take care of setting things up. He’ll probably steal all the available cushions and make a fort for himself while he puts a picnic blanket on the floor in front of your television. You can imagine him hogging all your stuffed animals, placing it on his side of the carpet while he rifles through your drawers so he can change out of his suit. 
Your parents tell you to take out the trash before you have fun tonight. Careful not to get your dress dirty, you hold it away from your body as you waddle out the front door. You make it two steps into the driveway before the soggy trash bag is whisked from your hands.
“I got it,” Jungkook says quietly, and it takes little to no effort for him to haul the large bag into the waiting trash can. His shoulders are slumped under his white button-up, his suit jacket probably stuffed somewhere in the back of the car. 
“Jungkook,” you reply, dumbfounded, “it’s only eight, prom isn’t even over yet.” 
“I know… but then I realized you weren’t gonna get your money’s worth if you didn’t go. I asked the waitress if she could get me a doggie bag for my date and,” he holds up a stapled bag, presumably the dinner that was supposed to be served, “it’s your favorite.” 
“Thank you,” you give him a small, grateful smile as you accept the bag. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 
He bites his lip, stuffing his hands in his dress pockets. “A-and you told me before you left that I should go spend prom night with my friends,” he ruffles his hair, blown out of the pomade and falling into his eyes, “and then I realized that you were right. Jennie and all those people out there aren’t really my friends. They like my rep and they like my attention, but they don’t like me.” 
You shake your head, “Jungkook, you’re very likable. Jennie and her group are just one bad bunch.” 
“But I don’t wanna be liked by my rep. I wanna be liked for the things I love,” he steps a hesitant step towards you, and he relaxes when he sees that you don’t recoil, “I haven’t told anyone this. But I want to drop that sports scholarship. I applied to an art school, and I got in.” 
Suppressing a grin with a bite of your lips, you cheer silently in your head. Things are changing. “I’m so happy for you, Jungkook. Congrats.” 
“And I’m sorry for all the fucked up things I did. Jennie may have manipulated me but I definitely was a big part of it,” Jungkook pulls the words out of the sky, finally having enough time to formulate an apology, “but please don’t doubt for a second that my feelings are fake. I really like you, and I wish we got to know each other under better circumstances.”
“I wish we could’ve,” you echo sadly. “But our futures—” 
“I don’t want to lose you.” 
“I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you.”
You shake your head, frowning at his kicked puppy expression. “I’m considering a fashion school in Europe,” you reach for Jungkook’s hand, squeezing it. Letting him know that everything’s going to be okay. “You and Jimin can visit me during the breaks, Europe has some great spots to photograph.” 
Something in Jungkook’s gaze tells you that it’s not enough for him. He wants to be selfish and hold onto you tighter, but you know that’s not good for the both of you right now. “That’d be nice,” he says vaguely, giving you a pained smile. 
Jungkook rubs his thumb over your hand, relishing in the softness of your skin. “You look really pretty,” he says, looking forlornly over the dress. He can only imagine how ethereal you’d look under the fairy lights that decorated the venue, “I wish we could’ve had one dance.” 
You shrug, “The night’s still young,” you gesture to the space in the driveway, and the lights that overhead the garage. 
The slow Taylor Swift music that plays from his pocket is muffled, but it doesn’t deter either of you as he places his hands on your waist and you wrap his around his neck. You’re wearing your bunny house slippers and Jungkook’s neck is moist from his nervous sweats, but you know that this memory will be engraved in your brain for years to come. 
It feels good to know that from now on, you don’t have to be so concerned about the future now that you’ve had a taste of it. All you want now is to take it one day at a time. At this moment the, the only thing you want to do is focus on how you’re going to hold onto Jungkook for the last time. At least for now, who knows what will happen in the future. 
“I really want to kiss you, Bun,” he leans in, foreheads touching, “but I don’t deserve it.” 
“You’re right,” you tease, “you don’t.” 
He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 
Yet you figure you’ve made enough headway these past few weeks, and you deserve to be a little selfish. One last kiss, you think to yourself. Your fingers flatten against the pressed material of his collar, meeting in the middle to clutch Jungkook’s slim black tie. Jungkook bites his lip, looking down at you for permission. With the tiniest of nods, you get on your tippy toe toes you lean forward and you can smell the apple cider lingering on his lips—
“Ohmygod—are you broken up or not!” both of you whip your heads up to see Jimin hanging over your open window, looking absolutely bored. His arms dangle over your sill, wearing a frayed high school jumper. “Either tell him to get lost or invite him over to watch television because I’m hungry!” 
You pull away from him fully, squeezing his biceps. “Want pizza?” 
He shakes his head, “I think it’s a trap. Jimin’s waiting for me to come up so he can rip my head off,” he gives a tentative wave to the second floor, but Jimin just scoffs and goes back inside, “but I’ll see you Monday.” 
“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 
“Good night, Bun.” 
Your heart pinches a little as you watch him drive away. Before, you knew what the end game was between you two. It didn’t end pretty. Now, you’re not so sure. At the very least, it isn’t ending on a sour note. 
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Some time later.
“Your majesty,” you give her a practiced smile, taking careful measures not to brush the lady’s shoulders too hard in the fear she’ll whittle away, “emerald is an impeccable color on you.” 
The Queen of England (the McDuckin' Queen of England!) just laughs at you and waves you off. You can’t believe you’re photographing a real queen. This is like the childhood equivalent of meeting Malibu Barbie. You thank every single choice and mistake you’ve made in your entire life that has brought you up to this impeccable moment. She’s a vision, you could cry. In fact, you’ll cry later in the comfort of your hotel room. “Do you think the photographer will take long?” she asks, frowning, “I have drinks with my friends in an hour.” 
You smirk, pleased to know she’s still kicking it in her golden years. “Yeah, just so long as my husband doesn’t get distracted. Fifteen minutes, tops.” 
“I’m not distracted,” Jungkook huffs, pulling away from his tripod. He gives up on trying to stabilize the camera, instead preferring to go freehand for this one. He gives you an incredulous look, hands on his hips, “I have two queens in my viewfinder and I only got room for one. Get out of the shot, Bun.” 
With a playful roll of your eyes, you step away from the lady of the hour to let Jungkook do his thing. He’s right in his element, blurting choreographed poses and telling the lighting people to move at his beck and call to get the perfect angle. You stand a distance behind him, letting him take control. 
“I’m so hungry,” your whisper is low enough to blend between the jazz music, but loud enough for Jungkook’s ears to listen in, “please tell me you’re almost done.” 
“Oui, oui.” 
“Wrong language, Kook. Please don’t offend anyone,” and discreetly, you take one step closer in your Tory Burch flats, “did you get any candids of me and the Queen?” 
“Duh, Bun,” you can’t see his face but you know he’s grinning, “Jimin will faint.” 
"Oh, yes! Thank you, I love you," you gush, reaching over to discreetly pinch his butt. 
He shakes his head, looking over his shoulder to give you a brief smirk, "Show me how thankful you are tonight." 
So silly, you think. It's amazing how well you work together as two separate entities of a photoshoot yet share a brain cell in the presence of each other. In another world, Jungkook said if given the chance, he'd be by your side and make your world a better place. 
Ten years later, it's exactly that and more. 
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fiskergorman64 · 2 years
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Burberry Check Belt
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from-wherever · 3 years
Text
Red Letters (MJF)
pairing: mjf x fem!reader
contents: canon typical violence, a few bad words methinks. not exactly fluff. mjf is cute but still a smart ass
if u guys want request feel free to submit otherwise i'll probably only write for the best friends bc im whipped. anyway pls enjoy
ps i tag fics with "#/cd says" if you are looking for more
"Ugh," was the only thing Y/n could manage as she kept her gaze on Brandi Rhodes. Her friend grinned widely but her face was uncomfortable.
"Just keep your eyes on me and do not turn around." Brandi said through her teeth, stepping into the most realistic fake-conversation she could think of, hoping for Y/n's sake the man who walked through the door behind her wouldn't notice.
Y/n engaged as fully as possible. "Mhm, oh yeah, Rhodes to the Top, mhm!" she nodded her head as Brandi spouted off buzzwords.
"Yes! Cody! New baby! Dynamite!" she continued, but it seemed the action only brought more attention their way.
"Well, hello ladies." A charming voice sounded from behind Y/n. She groaned and turned on her toes.
"Maxwell. What a pleasure."
Maxwell Jacob Friedman stood in front of her, in all his cocky glory in that stupid Burberry scarf. "Trust me, doll. The pleasure is all mine. Brandi." he greeted her.
"Friedman. What are you and the rest of your goons up to today? Raising Jericho's blood pressure?" She crossed her arms over her chest and moved to stand next to Y/n.
Max huffed and threw his head back. "He does that all on his own, sweetheart." he stuck his hands in his pockets and cocked his head to the side. "I'm actually alone this week. That's why I'm here."
Y/n cocked an eyebrow and Brandi mimicked her. "And what does that mean?"
Max met her eyes and she almost thought she saw his confidence waiver, before the corner of his mouth curled up. "Well, doll, I'm sure you know I have a match tonight, against none other than Lee Johnson. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind being my arm candy for the evening."
The jaws of both of the women before him dropped. Then they began to laugh. Surely the Maxwell Jacob Friedman wasn't asking her to accompany him ringside. "You're joking, right? I know you are more than aware that I'm part of the Nightmare Family, the same family you turned on, the same family Lee is a part of?"
Y/n watched his expression. He was completely calm.
"Eh, what's a bit of kayfabe break for a shot at true love. What do you say, doll? Tony said he had a 'light bulb' moment when I mentioned it."
Y/n let out an exasperated huff. "I don't even have a say in this, do I?" She asked, mostly to herself.
Brandi answered anyway. "Sounds like Tony threw you into a love story line, babe."
Another groan, this one of defeat. She thought back to the months prior, whenever Max was still loyal to Cody. As annoying as he was back then, she couldn't help but find him endearing. Now? How could she not laugh? She gave herself a moment to think about how exciting this would have been before he had turned on Cody, only to then turn on Jericho.
"Cheer up. You can wear your red ring gear and match with me. You know, the ones with your name across the rear. God help us if those legs go to waste tonight." Maxwell sent her a smile before turning away from them and leaving.
Brandi pursed her lips and smiled at her friend. "He's a real piece of work."
"Tell me about it." she ran a hand across her forehead. "I don't know if I'm ready to be a heel. I don't know if I have it in me after two years of being a baby face."
Brandi laughed at her distress and hugged her. "Maybe you're Max's guiding light to be a face." Both women laughed at that. "But seriously," Brandi continued, "Tony wouldn't put something together like this haphazardly. He believes in you and obviously sees something in this story. Maybe something really good will come out of this."
Y/n looked at her friend and sighed. "A girl can only hope."
Before the match started, Y/n made a point to find her boss. It wasn't hard, as he had apparently been looking for her as well.
"Y/n! Perfect timing. Listen, I know Max already talked to you, but I'm sure he didn't explai-"
"TK, my guy, a romance storyline? With Maxwell? You're killing me here." she said as her boss placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Listen, I promise you, we're just taping it tonight. We're gonna gauge the reaction a bit, work with it more if there's a good reaction, and it'll never see the light of day if it's bad. Okay? I just want you to give it a shot." Tony told her with a smile. "We're also looking at a Pinnacle and Factory Alliance being a possibility. Who knows?"
"You know, Tony." she countered and he laughed, patting her arm twice before dropping his hand and flagging down one of his EVPs, Y/n didn't care to see who.
She looked down at her phone, quickly typing out a message to Brandi. So, as fate would have it, you were right. Lucky me. If it goes well, I guess we'll go from there. She hit send on the message, then made her way to the dressing room to prepare herself, both mentally and physically.
Y/n stood near the entrance of the heels tunnel, waiting impatiently for her new partner in crime. She was dressed in the ring gear that had been requested of her. Try as she might, she couldn't argue with Max. As he rounded the corner (with Wardlow behind him) dressed in his own deep red gear, complete with his initials across his ass, she knew he was right. They looked good together.
"You always did clean up nice, doll." Max's voice shook whatever fuzzy feeling Y/n had previously, and her arms crossed over her chest.
"Wardlow is here tonight? And I'm sure the rest of your friends are back here somewhere. I suppose that means you don't need me tonight." She looked up at Max before attempting to walk straight past him and away from the tunnels.
He took a light hold of her arm once her body crossed his, "Not so fast, toots. I know you already talked to Tony." He shook his head once, "There's no getting out of this one." He dropped his arm from hers then and met her eyes. "You look wonderful. The reds couldn't have matched better if I'd planned it."
A look of confusion swept across her face before she quickly gathered herself, deciding to simply raise an eyebrow. "And you did plan it, didn't you?"
The sound of Max's music beginning cued their attention to the tunnel again. "Not down to the finest of details, doll. I don't like you that much." He didn't acknowledge her lifted brows as he looped her arm through his and tugged her through the tunnel.
She quickly matched his amused smirk falling into his smooth saunter. They could hear the crowd booing him as he stepped out of the tunnel. Quickly, it turned to quiet, then loud whispers and murmurs. They weren't sure what to think, or why a member of the Nightmare Family was on the arm of MJF.
Max unwrapped their arms and carefully removed his scarf, placing it over Y/n's head and smoothing her hair. A smile settled on both of their faces as his arm snaked around her shoulders and pulled her into him. The crowd erupted, with excitement or rage she wasn't sure.
Y/n finally looked to the ring below where Lee Johnson stood next to Aubrey, his jaw dropped and eyebrows knitted together. He looked shocked and pissed, and she couldn't tell if he was acting or not. She couldn't replace her smile with a smirk as she stared down at her friend, her stomach sinking with turmoil. The duo walked their way down to the ring, Wardlow stepping in front of them to part the rings. Max held his hand out to allow her to go first.
The three of them entered the ring together, Max showing off while the other stood on either side. Y/n cast a glance at Lee only to find him glaring at her. She offered him another smile, hoping he knew the change had been made before hand.
Wardlow and Y/n made their way to the side of the ring as the timekeeper rang her bell. The match was grueling, with Max ultimately coming out on top. The two reentered the ring as the second bell chimed to signal the end of the match. Lee was getting back up as Max's hand had been raised. He pushed on the back of his former opponent, sending Max shooting forward. Wardlow stepped up to Lee, his body towering over him. Y/n looked between the three men. She hadn't known that was scripted.
Max pushed his body guard to the side and came chest to chest with Lee. It didn't take long before the two were brawling, and before Wardlow had started in, too. Y/n thought as quickly on her feet as she could, what would I do if this were real? She rushed forward just as Cody and Dustin rushed into the ring, trading blows with the two other men, only for the rest of the Pinnacle to slide under the bottom rope and join the action. She hesitated for a minute. What the hell am I supposed to do here?!
She saw Max fall toward the outside of the fight, still matching blows with Lee. She quickly wrapped her arms around Max's waist, attempting to pull him out of the fight. He easily followed her grip as she tugged him all the way outside of Lee's fists before putting herself in front of him. Lee's hand stopped as soon as he saw her. Someone standing to the side thrust a mic in her hand.
Are you fucking kidding me? she thought before speaking immediately "Stop! Stop now!" the fighting ceased. "Are you guys serious? Lee what are you even doing?"
Lee began yelling, pointing to his chest, "What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/n? With Maxwell?"
She dropped the mic on the floor in front of her friend and held her hand up. "I'm not doing this." She said loudly enough for the cameras to pick up. She wrapped an arm around the "beat up" MJF and began assisting him up the apron, the rest of the Pinnacle following as their music played. Her Nightmare Family stared after her.
As soon as they got backstage, cheers erupted from the group, only to be drowned out by Y/n loudly "UHT UHT"-ing.
"What the absolute hell was that? You couldn't even warn a girl?" she directed at Max.
He shrugged. "You held yourself together perfectly well. Worked that microphone like a true member of the Pinnacle." The other men murmured in agreement.
"It was average at best. It would have been much better had I had time to prepare. Did Lee even know I was going to be out there?"
"Guilty as charged." She heard him answer from behind her, as the rest of the gang came in from the ring. "I wasn't sure if you'd abandoned us or if he'd finally asked you out."
A soft set of "ooohhh's" settled along the group and Lee realized his mistake. "I mean, look at how well you guys match. Of course he wanted you with him ringside."
Max groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, very much, Lee Johnson. Without your wonderful word I would be truly lost. If you'd excuse us." He said and held Y/n by shoulders to steer her out of the room and away from any commotion.
"You know, if you had a thing for me, you could have just said something." she chuckled before he could speak.
"Yeah, well, that's nice and all but it didn't really fit the storyline." he waved a hand dismissively before putting his hands on his hips and refusing to meet her eyes.
"Oh, the storyline was that important?"
"Extremely. It involved Brandi turning on you during a match and I would come out to rescue you, then Cody was going to turn heel, obviously. It was going to end with a big dramatic tag team and an inaugural intergender tag team title belt."
"Oh, yeah, that's an excellent storyline. No wonder Tony was obsessed with it. Too bad there wasn't a part where you actually asked me out." She teased him.
He smiled at her finally. "You think all that was leading up to me asking you out?" He scoffed at her. "No, all that was to make you fall in love with me. Then I needed a second plan to ask you out. I didn't know you were already into me otherwise I would have skipped all the hard work."
She smirked at him. "So what makes you so sure I'm into you? I don't remember admitting anything."
He took a step closer to her and put a hand on her hip. "The fact that you're even having this conversation with me right now speaks eons." He grabbed her hand with his free one. "I'm sorry you're not ready to be a heel," he gave her a grin as their fingers intertwined, "I think you'd make a great one with a bit of practice, personally."
She felt his body heat at he began to lean against her. "Well, it's a good thing I'll have a good teacher, huh?" feeling a surge of boldness, she craned her neck up to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
He let out a short laugh, a warm heat rising in his chest and cheeks. "I certainly hope so."
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truglori · 3 years
Text
Homebody (Ch.3)
Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...
Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC
Warning : Language, Slight Smut
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Davio’s was the choice of the night. It was known for being one of the top restaurants with a perfect view looking out towards the city.
Scoping out the restaurant Erik’s attention was drawn to the repeated sounds of utensils clinking against porcelain plates. Along with the many voices talking amongst each other, it was driving him to the state of annoyance. If it was up to him he would have rather chosen something more quiet and isolated so that he could be focused on his date.
Bringing his mind back to what was in front of him he checked out his view. Sitting there with her titties out and her signature ice piece that rested comfortably in her cleavage, she rocked an all black dress that clung to her body perfectly.
Shyly looking up from her dessert menu Alexis caught him staring her down. She gave him a smile before setting down the laminated paper. Flipping her 26 inches of Brazilian bundles over her shoulder that she decided to wear bone straight, she leaned in to give him a better view.
“You like what you see daddy?” She teased before sipping on her glass of Rosè.
Erik eyes scanned over her one last time. “I do. You look good as fuck right now.”
“Mm thank you daddy. I got this dress earlier today just for you.” She always tried her best to impress him.
He slowly nodded his head. “Oh yeah? You showing out for me..having ya ass all out like that too.”
Erik couldn’t lie to himself even if he tried. Alexis was bad as fuck. From her perky titties that always sat up to her fat ass that looked plumped in no matter what she was wearing. To the hood she was the definition of a bad bitch and she had the attitude to match it too.
Erik ran into her almost nine months ago. They both were in the club celebrating a mutuals birthday. He noticed her when he stepped in the building with Durk and the crew. She was already in the V.I.P section with a friend on each side of her.
Making eye contact with each other for the first time that night Erik knew he had to have her just for the time being. He introduced himself to her and brought her and her friends drinks for the remainder of their time there. She didn’t put up a front either. That’s what he liked about her, she showed just as much interest and was straight forward with him. Erik didn’t have to deal with the typical cat and mouse chase game most women did whenever a man pursued them.
What he thought would be simple one night stand turned into a fling. They ended up exchanging numbers while laying in her bed after going a few rounds. The way that she sucked and fucked him had him thinking twice about ghosting her. She was the first girl to make him nut from head. That’s how skilled she was with her throat and tongue. Alexis was truly a freak and there was nothing that was off limits to him. But the more time they spent with one another the she started to get entitled and Erik couldn’t stand that shit. She was always putting their names together out in the streets which almost ruined his reputation of being low-key. He told her that if she didn’t stop running her mouth he was going to stop fucking with her and that put her in her place.
The waiter interrupted him from his thoughts as he sat down their food they ordered fifteen minutes ago.
The smell of a fresh hot and steamy steak well done along the side of creamy garlic mash potatoes invaded his nose and caused his mouth to water.
“Maybe you could take me to your place and take it off me after.” She lifted her leg up and massaged his dick through his pants with the flat part of her heel.
Erik smirked. He knew what she was trying to do but it didn’t work.
“When was the last time we went to my crib?”
“Never but-“
“So then why would I bring you there if I never did before?” He cut her sentence short.
Erik was very cautious about who he trust to know where he lived. Every single one of their sneaky links was hosted at her apartment. It may seem shallow that he couldn’t even allow the girl who he could bend over whenever he wanted to know where he laid his head but he just couldn’t trust everyone.
“Erik when is your paranoid ass gonna realize I’m not out to get you or set you up.” She rolled her eyes.
“I never said you were so why you insinuating some shit like that? You thinking about it?” He questioned.
‘This the shit I’m talking about.’
He shook his head setting down his fork to take a break from his food and picked up his glass of Hennessy.
“No. I’m just wondering why you don’t have a problem fucking me but yet I can’t even come to your place...that’s low as fuck.” She cocked her head sideways before going back to her shrimp and scallop.
“What’s wrong with me keeping my privacy? And why we gotta talk about this now, we should be enjoying ourselves.”
Erik cut the conversation no longer entertaining it. He never was the one to explain himself to someone who didn’t pay one bill where he lived and he wasn’t going to start today.
Alexis no longer wanting to vex the situation switched up the mood.
“You’re right baby but ooh guess who I seen today?”
Jogging his memory from the car ride with Amiyah earlier he already had a hint but let her speak anyways.
“Who?”
“Durkio’s sister. She works at the boutique where I got this dress from. She’s pretty..just a lil too chubby for me.” She giggled throwing her shade while bitting into some scallop.
When those words left her lips it turned Erik all the way off. What was the reason of a woman trying to denigrate another grown woman.
“You tell her that to her face?”
Alexis smacked her lips. “Why would I say that to her?”
“I don’t know, what you got against her?”
She laughed at his question. “Nothing I just stated my opinion that’s all.”
He nodded his head taking a mental note.
Some time had passed as the two ate in a comfortable silence chatting here and there. When he was finished he picked up his cloth napkin wiping his mouth. He was ready to get up out of there. Erik looked to see Alexis going through her purse. She took out her lipstick and reapplied it and that gave Erik the hint that she was also finished with her meal.
“You ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah I need you to give me some dick when we go back to my place” She spoke bluntly and out in the open not caring who could have heard her.
Grabbing his wallet he pulled out two crisps one hundred dollar bills paying for their dinner. He then got up slipping on his jacket as he watched Alexis stand up and put on her Burberry vintage trench coat.
He followed closely behind her to the exit of the restaurant before he went in front of her and held the door open. They walked to the valet and Erik gave his ticket to young man at the booth and watched him run in the direction of his car.
The wind blew softly and Alexis found herself standing directly in front of him as she slipped her hands inside his open jacket and wrapped them around his waist colliding their bodies together. The feeling of his hard abs against her breast made her nipples harden. She looked up at him watching his head stay in the same direction where the valet boy ran to get his car. Lifting one of her hands to his beard she tugged it softly grabbing his attention.
Erik shifted his eyes down in hers and recognized the look in them.
Already knowing what wine always did to her body whenever she had it let him know that she was ready to try to suck his dick while doing a handstand if she could.
She bit her lip never breaking contact. “I want you so bad right now.”
“You think you can handle me tonight? You be runnin every time when you off that Rosè. That pussy be hurting huh?” His hand grabbed her neck softly and his thumb caressing where her trachea was.
“I don’t be running it just be taking you so long to fuckin nut.” She smiled and opened her mouth sticking out her tongue.
Erik looked down at the display before bring his thumb up to it and watched as it disappeared in her mouth. Her jaws sunk in as she sucked it softly and lightly bobbed her head up and down. His balls tightened at the warm sensation on his finger bringing his memory back to the times she would do the same thing on his dick. He gave a low groan before he was interrupted with someone clearing their throat.
“Excuse me sir...your car is here.” It was the valet.
Erik grabbed his keys and walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for Alexis. She got in but not before lightly gripping his balls. Closing the door behind her he made his way to his side starting up the car and looked out his rear view before driving off.
It wasn’t too long when he glanced over and saw Alexis hiking up the bottom of her dress to her waist. She had no panties on and her pussy looked like it was freshly wax. Smiling at his face she leaned her seat back and spread her thighs opened. Running her nails over the inner flesh she felt herself getting warmer from the touch.
Erik was doing his best to multitask by watching the road while getting a look at her phat pussy lips every now and then.
“If you gon put it out like that you might as well play with it.” He told her biting his lip.
Following his demand she spread her lower lips with one hand as she let the fingers of her other dip into her wet opening just before bringing them to her clit rubbing it in circles. She moaned at the feeling applying more pressure. Her pussy became more wet from having him watch her. It made her excited and proud that she was able to keep his eyes distracted while taking the risk. No longer being able to hold back she stopped her stimulation and sat up with her knees on the seat. Bending down across the arm rest she put an arch deep enough in her back so that he would be able to see the butterfly tattoo on her ass cheeks.
“I wanna play with something else too.” Unbuckling his Loui Vuitton belt and zipping down his pants she took out his dick. It was so fucking heavy. The length and girth of his nine inches is what drove her to the brink of obsession. His dick took her soul every time he would fuck her and she gladly let him have it.
Wasting no time she kissed the sensitive head showing her appreciation then stuck her tongue out and ran it up and down his shaft wetting his dick up. Returning to the head of his penis she smacked the heavy tip on her lips as she pushed out some spit to make it glossy. Opening her mouth she took him in with sunken cheeks and immediately started to suck mocking her movements from ealier when they were outside.
Erik gripped her hair and moaned in his throat. She was a fucking head monster. It didn’t take him long to get hard because she knew what she was doing. Pulling her hair into a ponytail with the free hand he wasn’t driving with he switched his eyes between the road and her spitting on his dick then deep throating it.
He couldn’t hold back his smile. “You fucking nasty you know that?”
Quickly moving his hand off the steering wheel he lifted up his shirt to keep it from getting soaked and placed it back taking control again.
Seeing this, Alexis brought one hand up to his abs caressing them and then moved her way up to his chest running her fingers over his left nipple. Relaxing her throat and silently humming she was able to go deeper taking at least six inches of him without gagging.
“Fuck..” Erik mumbled under his breath.
Lifting up and wiping her mouth she smiled. “I heard that daddy.”
“Get back on that dick.” He guided her by the back of her neck feeling himself about to cum at any moment.
Giggling she played around his head flicking the underside of it. Using her right hand she massaged his balls as she took him back into her warm wet mouth and sucked his tip repeatedly producing excessive spit so that she was able to stroke him at the same time. Up and down she twisted her hand around his girth and would make a tight grip whenever she would reach the top.
This was on of the reason Erik couldn’t find himself to stop fucking with her. He could never turned down some good head and she definitely knew how to give it.
“Suck that nut out then.” He hyped her up and seen that it was working when he saw her twerking her ass cheeks.
With her staying around his sensitive head for a while he felt his stomach tightened up and his ass clenching together as his hips thrust up. He didn’t want to bust just yet but she was sucking him dry.
“Mm fuckk.” He dick spurted out his semen into her mouth and he relaxed back into his seat.
She made sure he was milked properly before she cleaned him up neatly and put his dick back in his pants and going back to the passenger side.
Reaching over she ran the tip of her nails on his neck.
“You needed that daddy...that load was big as fuck.”
“I did and you gon suck another one out of me when we make it to your crib.”
She smiled proud of her work.
“Anything for you daddy.”
___________________________________________________________________
It’s been two days since Amiyah last saw Erik. Two whole days had went by and this man still haven’t called her.
She couldn’t get him out of her mind.
Closing her eyes she kept thinking about the way he touched her. How his hands gripped her waist and rested there comfortably. His hands were tough but yet soft and gentle with her plush body.
‘What is he doing to me?’
Is the question she asked herself as she laid with her back on her bed with one leg folded on top of the other rocking it side to side while being on her phone. She had just finished cleaning her room and decided to finish setting the mood with a sweet smelling caramel drizzle three wick candle from Bath and Bodyworks that she brought herself.
It was her day off so she had nothing to do but sit in the house. Durkio was gone and Kelley was at work and aside from those two she had no one else that she could hang with. Being interrupted from scrolling on Instagram she was getting an incoming call from and local unknown number.
617-348-7677...
Amiyah sat up. The palms of her hands became sweaty as she answered with a soft voice.
“Hello..”
“Hi this is Jesse Mcwell and I am calling from our student loans forgiveness program to let you know that your application has been accepted.” The voice sounded like it was coming from a southern white women.
Amiyah inwardly groan at the customer service worker. She laughed at herself for getting nervous and excited over nothing.
“I’m sorry Jesse but you have the wrong number...I’m not in school.”
“Oh I’m sorry well thank you. Have a great day!”
“You too!”
She clicked the red button ending the call.
She smacked her lips.
“You’ll know it’s me.” She mocked Erik in his voice becoming annoyed.
That wasn’t the first time she picked up a call from a random number within that last two days that wasn’t Erik. All of them being from either an automated voice message claiming she won a free trip or last but not least the student loan office.
She picked up every single last one of them in hopes of hearing his voice.
Climbing off her bed her belly growled.
“I need some food.” She spoke to herself out loud which was a habit of hers.
Walking into the kitchen she rummage through the cabinets and refrigerator but found nothing to her liking. It was either junk food or leftover takeout from Durk. Growing easily frustrated with her hunger she blew out air and closed the pantry door.
A minute later had passed when she remembered that there was a small Jamaican spot that she liked literally right down the street. It was nothing but a three minute walk and she could make it there and back in lest then ten. Grabbing her coat and house keys she put on her Timbs and then exited her home locking the door behind her.
Going to the elevator she clicked the down button and waited for it to come up to the fourth floor so that she can get on.
The doors opened and out came her neighbor Melanie. She was some Latina that she only knew of because of the one time she walked in the apartment and found her brother bending her over in the living room. The girl was the reason Durk didn’t pick her up from work that day which lead her to having to take the bus home.
“Oh hey girl! How are you?” She tried her best making small talk with her.
Amiyah mentally rolled her eyes but gave a small smile.
“I’m good thanks!” She returned her fake energy as she stepped in the elevator and hit the lobby button.
“Tell your brother I asked about him. Let him know-“
The doors shut before she could finish her sentence. Amiyah laughed and shook her head.
“That girl know I don’t like her.”
It took nothing but a few seconds when the elevator finally came to a hault and opened the doors on the lobby floor.
Amiyah walked outside zipping up her coat and began heading in the direction of the restaurant. It took exactly how long she thought it would, less than five minutes. But being a house length away from her destination she noticed an all black BMW and sitting on top of it was a black guy as he spoke with two Dominican looking men.
Keeping her head down like how her brother taught her she was hoping to go unnoticed and not wanting to draw any attention towards her. The closer she got she couldn’t help taking a glance and picking up their conversation.
“Listen I’m not trying to make no beef.. we gotta lay low since our business is getting out there. Niggas is finding out shit and I don’t know how.” The black guy spoke with his hands folded together in front of him like he was the man in charge.
“We got you boss. We’ll make sure whatever we know gets back to you.” The taller one of the two other men spoke up confirming her thoughts.
“Yeah we gon start going low.” The shorter one finally spoke.
That was the last of the conversation she heard before she went inside the restaurant. Walking up to the cooler she slid the door open and grabbed a Calypso ocean blue lemonade. She only had to wait behind two people before she was able to put in her order.
The sudden feeling of the breeze from outside let her know that someone was coming in but she had no time to look back as the line moved and it her was her turn.
“Hi can I get a medium oxtail with rice and peas but no cabbage. Also can you add extra gravy please.” She gave the middle age lady a smile and sat her drink on the counter to unzip her Coach wallet taking out a twenty.
“Yo she good...she with me and hook it up for her.”
Turning her head to put a face to the voice that spoke for her she saw it was the guy who was sitting on his car from outside. He standing there with his hands in his pocket.Taking him in he was dressed down in a Givenchy track suit with the Moncler x Givenchy puffer jacket to match. His outfit screamed money but it was nothing she hadn’t seen before with her brother.
“Um thank you but I could’ve paid for it. It’s not that much.” She spoke softly.
He gave her a smile looking her up and down taking in her shape right in front of her.
“You good. These my people who look out for me and whoever I know.” He shrugged his shoulders letting her know that it’s nothing.
Shyly darting her eyes to the counter to grab her drink she stood to the side before turning back to the stranger.
“Well thank you but you don’t even know me.” Not trying to be rude to him but she was only stating facts.
“So then let me change that. I’m Cane.” His hand went to his chest as he introduced himself then reached out to shake her hand.
“Amiyah.” She placed her small hand in his that was huge compared to hers. She only hope that he wouldn’t notice her hand lightly sweating up which happened whenever she got nervous. It was a trait she hated about herself.
“That’s beautiful name. It kind of sound like my daughters.” Yet to have let go of her hand he stroked the back of it with his thumb stepping closer to her.
“What’s your daughters name?” Amiyah was finding herself lured into his charm as she stared deeper into his eyes.
“Janiyah.” He smirked at her before letting go.
“That’s pretty. What was your name again?"
“Cane.”
His eyes danced over her body again. She was a pretty thick girl to him. He knew as soon as she walked pass him he was hypnotized by her big ass and pretty natural round face. In his opinion she was fine as fuck but he could see the way she acted told him she probably thought differently.
She seemed insecure from how she spoke timidly and barely being able to keep eye contact. He noticed this but still went for her. If she was anything like how he thought he had her figured out to be then he knew that she could be someone who he could easily control and who he can get some pussy from time to time.
“Excuse me, your order is ready young lady.” The middle age woman broke the two from their staring contest.
Walking up to the counter she took her food along with a fork and some napkins and headed for the door. She felt him following behind so she held the door for him without bothering to turn around.
Cane laughed that she knew he was right behind her. He couldn’t help but to be hooked with the ass that she was dragging. He definitely was going to make it a priority to break her ass in.
Amiyah returning to the direction where she came from turned around to thank him one last time.
“Thank you for taking care of this. I appreciate that.”
“Well you can thank me properly by letting me take you out to dinner. Introduced you to some real Caribbean cuisine and not some street corner shack...no offense though.” He smirked.
She giggled at him down playing her choice of restaurant. “I thought you said these were your people. Why you shading them like that?”
“They are my people but that don’t mean I gotta settle ma...and neither should you.” He stepped closer occupying her space.
“Okay.” Not knowing any better and folding under his gaze she accepted his offer.
He took out his IPhone 12 and punched in the numbers that she gave him. He sent a text with just his name alone to make sure she had it.
“You need anything else. Maybe a ride? I noticed you walking” He stated genuinely.
“No I live two minutes away.” She replied letting him know she was good and waving goodbye.
“Aight I’ma hit you up later. Nice to meet you Amiyah.” He gave her a smile as he sat back on the hood of his car and watched her walk away.
‘Damn he was so fine.’
Two fine ass men in the same week asked for her number. She always made up scenarios in her head about how it would be the first time she would give a guy her number and never would have thought it would be with her brothers fine ass best friend or with a stranger who looked like money.She always thought she would get less and have to settle below her standards, but after today this was definitely a confidence booster.
Locking the door behind her she walked to the coffee table and sat her food down after she turned the tv on. Getting undressed back into her lounge wear she plopped on the couch and opened her plate to eat.
“Damn they hooked me up.” Looking at her plate she saw that it was plenty of oxtails sprawled out and extra gravy just the way she liked it.They never gave her that much oxtails that had that much meat on them before.
Cane immediately came to her head as she took in a spoonful of rice. She wondered if he was someone important to the restaurant for them take demands from him and made sure she left with a generous amount of food.
Her phone rung. Not paying attention to anything else besides the tv she answered it nonchalantly while chewing on her food expecting it to be one of those automated machines again.
“I wonder what I won this time?” She spoke to herself sucking the sauce of her fork and placing it down.
“Shit whatever you want?” Erik chuckled.
She snatched the phone away from her ear reading the number.
617-348-8357
She saved the number.
“Uh..I’m sorry Erik. I thought you were these voice messages that keep calling me.” Even though he couldn’t see her she still felt embarrassed.
“You good. Sorry I took so long to call you.”
Putting the tv on mute she sat up giving him her undivided attention. His voice sounded like he just woke up.
“That’s okay. Are you just now waking up Erik?” She giggled. Her nerves were starting to show.
“I didn’t make it home till early this morning. I been up all night.” He talked before clearing his voice.
“Oh okay.” Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and seen it was an incoming FaceTime call.
“Pick up.” His voice commanded. She was still able to hear him due to not hanging up the regular phone call yet.
She looked in the FaceTime camera and fixed her hair as well as wiping her mouth making sure there was no crumbs on her lips.
His face finally came into view as he was laying in what looked like a bed. Black satin pillows surround him. Scanning her eyes over him she noticed he had on a black durag to match.
She giggled as he kept his eyes on her not speaking yet.
“What?” Balling up her fist she used it to cover her smile.
“I can’t look at you?” He licked his lips.
He looked even finer when he was just waking up.
There was no way that she able to handle this man. From his thick lips to his voice, he was ruining her and he hadn’t even done a thing to her yet. She was starting to see a side of Erik that she didn’t know about.
“Oh my god. Why do boys say that?” She questioned acting fake annoyed.
“Well first off I’m a man so don’t make that mistake slipping up calling me a boy again. Aight?” He spoke lowly keeping his eyes on her.
Biting her lip, she tested him. “Erik I can call you whatever I want.”
His chuckle broke the silence.” You tryna make me pull up on you or sum shit? Stop fuckin playing with me.”
She put him on mute and sat the phone down hiding the camera.
‘Sis we is not wetting up these panties today.’
Her thighs clenched together from his threat. She couldn’t take how he could get her sticky down there so quickly. It felt different compared to how it felt when she she would play with herself. That would take her some time before she got aroused but with Erik every look he gave her and every word he spoke to her had her pussy spilling.
“So you gon put me on pause while you play with that pussy?”
She picked up the phone unmuting it.
“Shut up Erik!” She replied pretending to be unfazed.
“I like the way my name come off them soft ass lips.” Erik laughed and teased her watching her come undone in front of him.
“Could you stop?” She turned the phone away only showing part of her face to hide her smile for a second before turning it back.
“What? Say my name again?” He licked his bottom lip while watching hers.
‘Oh my goddd...what is he doing?!’
“I just said it.”
Playfully rolling her eyes she played tough with him but he saw through it.
“Say that shit again while you looking me in the eye.”
He demanded her putting an arm behind his head while waiting for her to respond.
“Erik..” What she meant to come out in a vex tone exited out as a light moan instead.
“Wassup baby.” His deep laughter came through the phone.
Erik watched as the look on her face became flustered. He only wanted to tease her. He liked how she looked when she became nervous. She tried her best to match his energy trying to be tough at first but he shut that down. It surprised him learning that she kind of had a smart ass mouth but clearly it didn’t take much to fix.
“You’re annoying.” At this point Amiyah wanted to just get under her covers and hide.
“I’m just fuckin with you. Told you I’m a grown ass man...don’t be playing with me like that.”
“I hear you.”
“What you do today?” He changed the conversation.
“Nothing it was my day off so I just cleaned my room and just got back from the Jamaican spot. You know the one down the street?”
He nodded his head and furrowed his eyebrows.
“You spend ya money on that shit. I had way better Jamaican food.”
She smacked her lips. “ First of all don’t do my spot and second I didn’t have to pay for it today. Some guy spotted me.” She spoke quickly without thinking.
“What you mean some guy spot you? He paid for it?” Erik sat up in bed because her last sentence caught his attention.
“Yeah he was nice but that was it.” She tried her best to diffuse the kind act.
“Nah don’t trust that. Niggas out here always gon want something in return even for something as simple as buying yo ass a meal. Don’t accept nothing next time.” He enlightened her.
She shook her head deciding not to bring up the fact she gave him her phone number.
“Let’s chill tonight?” He broke her train of thought.
She smiled widely. “To do what and go where?” She rushed the questions.
“Whatever you want to. I just want to see you in person.” He eyes examined her beautiful face as she blushed.
“How about we go see a movie and go to a diner or something after.”
That was a certain type of date she always fantasized about and now she was able to take a chance at living it.
He smiled at her excitement. “Bet. I’m pick you up at seven and you don’t gotta dress up but wear something nice for me okay?”
“Okay.” Her soft voice made his dick jump.
“Aight talk to you later.” He smiled and ended the call.
‘Let me go rub this kitty real quick because his ass is too much.’
__________________________________________________________________
Part Four
Please excuse any mistakes!
Cane is at the top.
Tag-list
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Elija Mikaelsaon Dating a Black S/O Headcanons
Did anyone ask? No, did I deliver? Yes.
- Alright, so Elijah and the Mikaelson’s have been alive for a while. Never got a specific date, but we have vikings. And as Elijah has been alive for a minute, he’s had flings, situationships, lovers, and at some point out knight in shinning armor was probably a fuck boy… don’t @ me.
- What I’m trying to say is man probably did it all, Asian, Latinx, Caucasian and African American and maybe even African and Caribbean… Maybe even fucked around with his sexuality for a second because he got it like that and the writers were too pussy to put this shit on
- Tbh probably the originals tried all the genders and non-genders, change my mind. But elijah strikes me as a free for all who loves something refreshing that’ll take him out of Klaus’s bullshit for a minute
- But here’s were this shit gets spicey… Elijah… with a black s/o….. Just hear me out poc who been waiting for someone to give them good fucking food on poc x tvd/ the originals, I got y’all… unless college comes back.
- OK so, I feel like if you’re rocking with Elijah he’d dress you up and ice you out because he can. Nothing under $5,000 for his s/o… We talking furs, diamond, real leather, snake skin, hell even a whole ass snake if you wanna be on your Bruce Wayne shit一 better yet, your T’challa shit with a whole ass panther (black panther ain’t real soooo y’all can get a black puma and call that bitch a panther lmfaoooooo)
- He’s asking you to a dinner date and then you say you’re ready…. Wearing pretty little things…. Missguided… honey. (Nah ain’t shit wrong wit those brands, they be having bangers tbh and sales like a bitch) Let him upgrade youuuuuuu. You only wear Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Burberry, Balmain, etc. Try walking out there looking a damn mess and distasteful… just try it sis 
- Speaking of which… my mans got you with hair too! Fuck you mean ?1?! 
- He had a black s/o in the past, even though her hair had loose curls… we won’t discredit her. He has some knowledge on how curl hair works, and if he’s lacking, he as a whole library and might fuck around and ask Bonnie in exchange for some witchy ingrdients (im cdfuuuuuu)
- Name, braids, twists, locs, finger waves. Wanna shave bald??? He’s for it, let him get you his barber. Fuck it, he’ll get you Marcel’s barber. Lined up and all that shit, throw in a fade too
- And coming in for wash day, he’s sitting behind you days in advance helping you take down your hair after a month or two. Grey sweatpants, scissors in hand, spray bottle to the side with Netflix as background music…. Fuck with it. You’re all tired after doing like 8 and he tells you to take it easy, with vamp speed and the deterixty of those fingers…. *chefs kiss*
- He sets up a lil wash day station for you, or if he’s on the clock just books a whole salon for you alone already paid for. But if he’s doing the work, best believe he spent the coinssss COINS for the organic shampoo shit you have the refrigerator and the deep conditioner, AND THE FUCKING LEAVE IN. He’s keeping your shit moisturized in the winter. His big hands and gentle fingers helping detangle your hair, you in a fluffy robe, enjoying being loved on….
- Y’all didn't even get me started on him doing twists… or plaits, or the bantu knots, the concentration on his face
- IDK why I gotta say this… nails done too, he loves the feel of your nails gliding on his scalp and down on his back when he’s giving you those slow strokes. 
- This doesn’t have to do with anything, but the fact that the originals were set in New Orleans which is mostly BLACK BLACK BLACK BLAAACCCKKKKK and I saw like 3 black people in that bitch, ong….. Julie Pleck, you basic bitch
- Anyways, I feel like Elijah in a trench coat coming to pick you up from work would be such a vibe and a mood. Like, he knows when you get off and you might just take public transportation or something to have some sort of independence. But he shows up after work when you’re leaving with some friends from work…. Nigga shows up in a dark blue cadillac, trenchcoat with the collar up, leather gloves… and a fresh cut
- Who tf let him out the house??
- And ik you’re friends trifling too asking who is he, a damn fine tall glass of milké
- And he’s just leaning against the door waiting for you and once he sees you, he waits for you expectedly and kisses your forehead in greeting and gets the door for you
- Speaking of driving, Elijah be too damn serious, and that’s were you come in. 
- I need him and the Miakelson’s at a cookout doing line dancing, the electric slide, cupid shuffle (and give Rebekak some goddamn friends shit, she everyone stay chasing love and shit but have 0 friends and boundaries, they drag family though the mud) 
- Like I need him out his suit and in some dark jeans, a solid white v-neck, rolex on his wrist, and white air forces
- Sitting there, kinda out of place until he settles in. Like I deadass see him asking where the tables are at the cookout and like… you break it to him he’s gonna have to do the table legs for that shit
- And the plastic cutlery! LMFAOOOOO his soul is slightly quaking
- And its finna be a whole ass test when an uncle comes up and grabs him by the shoulder in a greeting and tries to fill in the seat for spades or even worse…. Dominoes…. That’s it. It’s over. Elijah been alive for too long and knows every play in the book and can bluff his ass off
- But if we talking dominoes… we gon have the boondocks animation version of a nigga moments cuz y’all fights will be started, money will be lost…. To Elijah. In the end he gives it back bc he’s a good sport and bc humiliation is a greater victory 
- Lmfaoooo and the quiet drive back, you’re exhausted but the music station is playing throwbacks and Usher’s climax comes on and bitch… the high notes, the lamp posts that give you both a glimpse of each other’s side profiles. And for once Elijah is relaxed and coming down from his amusement. No one is trying to kill him or his siblings, and good food albeit greasy in his stomach.
- Dare he say he felt human for a moment
- You staring out the window and softly singing along enjoying what the day was, Elijah loving the ambiance created. Mmmmmm such a mood
- THAT BEING SAID imagine you and Elijah on a long drive and “I Mean It” by G- Eazy comes on and you start singing along bc data is expensive over long ass drives and being stuck in traffic. And Elijah is giving you a bemused look, you in all your glorious wonder and you just make the lyrics more dramatic ashit trying to be a heartbreaker and all that. But, the true heart breaker is Elijah
- He comes in on the verse and gives you all eye contact, lips completely sync but your can kinda hear his voice keep the tempo…. Bitch this makes me feel some type of way… and as he’s going on he grabs your face and tilts your chin up OOOOUUUU gets up all close and personal and finishes the lyrics which is perfectly timed with when the light turns green and turns back like nothing just happened. There yo are aping like a fish bc tbh if anyone could rap it’d probably be Kol, he’s like the emnemin mixed with busta rhymes type, but tone it down….
- Bitch imma go fantasize rapping Elijah, y’all been slept
- And for those asking yes, I do write for black readers, mor specifically female but I can try male
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