#but what is a cool toned red u may ask?
Note
domestic jason hcs? >:)
(this ask feels self-indulgent but i was VERY inspired by this one buff dude i saw on insta reels baking in a not-so-sexual way but like women in the comments are down bad and i cant really describe it im so sorry 😭)
imagine waking up to jason baking something (doesnt have to be anything could just be bread). you wanna help but the only instructions he gives you is to sit pretty, wearing his shirt and all. everytime he moves around the kitchen, he give u a lil peck on the lips if hes close enough to you. youre just sitting pretty like he asked, watching this man work and looking a little love struck cuz all you wanna do is pull him down and give him the fattest kiss for being so husband material
(dude, im yearning so much. thank u for writing a lot for jason 💞 ALSO ive seen u around in the cod tag so another thanks for ur fics there too 💞)
I’m sticking with the prompt cause I had unholy thoughts. An thank you! I appreciate your appreciation for my works ✨
This may be the tiniest bit suggestive 🌝
Time Written - 5:51 a.m
Baking at an early hour was somewhat new for Jason.
Baking at an early hour after an intense ending to an incredible date night was incredibly new for Jason.
His hands were occupied with an intriguing scene of soft dough and hard, rich yellow butter on a marble countertop. His muscles at work folding in the pockets of butter into the dough, pressing it with the heels of his palms.
“Morning, mama.” His morning voice held that early rasp in his tone that tickled you just right. You reciprocated his greeting as you walk into the kitchen, dressed in one of his shirts he aggressively yanked off the night before.
There he stood in grey sweatpants. Baking something delectable for seemingly no reason.
“What’s the occasion?” You question as you approach the counter, admiring his bed rugged hair adding onto his every attractive appearance.
“Cloudy outside, which means baking time.”
“Baking time?” The slightest glance at your cheeky little grin made him amusingly scoff.
“Baked goods,” he clarified with a head gesture behind him. “Coffee’s ready for ya, babe.”
Soon, the kitchen will flood with the warm aroma of browning butter and cooking sugar, invading throughout your home for a very long evening. Neighbors will get jealous over the smell of bakery air, hopefully helping them ignore the noises prior to the other night.
It was quite a sight to watch, his muscles flexing with a focused flare along his brow. You almost didn’t hear his insistence the second time towards the cinnamon coffee waiting in the pot for you.
“Gonna stick around? You’ll get first glance at what I’m making.”
“Which is?” You pry, watching him approach the sink to wash his hands.
“Crossiants,” he admits after drying his hands, giving the tip of your nose a peck. “With chocolate.”
“Look at you, my man’s a baker.” You smile while leaning against the counter, feeling your heart throb romantically from his chaste kisses.
“Not what you expected, huh?”
“What, my Red Hood busting skulls and baking? So many single moms would chase after you if they could.”
That comment has him unexpectedly laugh. Not the worst thing he’s been told, so he’ll take it. Poor single mothers, too bad he’s already taken.
“I thought you meant the chocolate would be inside?” You ask after peeking at the dough he wrapped up in cling wrap.
“No,” He shakes his head. “See, I thought that, but I like the idea of dipping them into melted chocolate a whole lot better.”
“Where’d you get the inspiration?”
“France,” he amusingly huffs with a shrug after approaching to take the packet you handed to him. “Thanks baby. Where else?”
He slips the packet of buttered dough into the fridge before turning towards the stove, almost running into you as you beat him to it, peering into a saucepan full of melted chocolate.
“Hey, hey.” Cool, clean hands gently grasped hold of your shoulders, gently nudging you away from his little workspace. “Easy on those eyes, almost knocked you into an accident.”
“Need some help with anything?” You offer, reminding him of when he used to ask his mother the same question. Happy little memories that brought embers of warmth in his heart.
“You can be of huge help,” He begins, calloused hands grazing down along your fingerprint shaped bruised hips before hoisting you up in his arms like a little doll.
“By sitting pretty, an’ letting me work.”
He plops you down on a stool he pulled out from the island counter, giving you a perfect little spot to watch him work. You slouch after he turns away, watching him return to his little objective on the stove.
“You just melt chocolate in the pan like that?”
“Sorta,” Jason tilts his head after grabbing a spoon, stirring the smooth, ganache-like chocolate concoction around. “France’s version of hot chocolate. Some milk, cream, a little sugar.”
You hum as a response, watching the muscles along the back of his left shoulder move as he enacts upon such a simple, minor task. Jason probably said something else, along the lines of not wanting such a beautiful body of chocolate boil on the stove, but it wasn’t much of your concern as it was his.
Maybe your main concern was how exactly did the scratches you left along his back didn’t break skin, clinging onto him for dear life as they flexed along your greedy palms.
He probably knew that, he was hiding a smile for all you could tell if you paid any attention.
“My girl want a taste?” He offers, his real gaze snapping your mind back into reality. You nod, anxiously sitting up in your seat.
He spoons warm, melted chocolate on the top of your tongue, watching it dribble down your bottom lip. The pink of your little tongue swiped up the remnants, all for Jason’s adoring gaze to witness.
Your reaction varies upon the subtle lack of sweetness from the chocolate.
“It’s not that sweet. Is it dark—?”
Your words are stolen when he kisses you, cradling your face within his two warm hands after carelessly setting down the spoon.
His heavy lidded gaze meets yours after breaking off the kiss, his cheeks flushed with affectionate warmth.
“Don’t know,” his glistening lips curve upwards after licking his lips. “Tastes pretty sweet to me.”
He turns away, as if he hadn’t committed such a crime in the first place.
You’re left watching once again, anxious nerves preventing you from sitting still. Fidgety fingers lingering in your lap, grasping along the lower hem of your shirt.
“Also coffee,” Jason pitches as if he forgot. “Added a little espresso to enhance the taste. You, uh… never got your coffee, babe.”
Oh. Right. The first thing he told you when you came in.
“Sorry,” you sheepishly admit, slightly shifting your hips whilst on the stool. “Got a little distracted.”
He chuckles, not even needing a detective’s mindset to understand fully why. “Did you now?”
Not giving you a chance to answer, Jason sets the saucepan off the burner before turning full attention towards you. Swooping you off the stool you sat, hoisting you ontop of a warm, clean counter.
His torso pressed against yours, keeping you comfortably confined between a marble surface and a hard place. His hands caress along your torso, thumbs trickling over your stiff nipples through your shirt, still sore from his teeth marks.
“Took you long enough,” he grumbles against the shell of your ear. His lips press against your neck as you swallow, kissing down along your collarbone. “Figured you’d have stayed sleeping in ‘till I was done here. Guessin’ last night wasn’t enough for you?”
“Your fault for putting on a show.” You whisper, hooking your legs the best you could around his broad waist.
He chuckles against your neck, his excitement as palpable as his pearly smile expressed. “Your fault for watchin’, mama.”
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x fem!reader#dc jason todd#jason todd x y/n#there’s no unique reason I chose crossiants#just sounded fun 🌝#when the post nut clarity so strong you gotta bake your girl some goods#gotham knights jason todd#jason todd x#jason todd dc#don’t hate me
558 notes
·
View notes
Text
One Wednesday at the Penthouse, while waiting for Tony..
Rhodey (is sipping coffee from behind the counter when he sees the kid): Hey Pete! Nice to see you. How was your day?
Peter: Oh hi Mr. Rhodes! You won't believe what happened, sir. See, Flash was there and about to trip me but for some reason, his friend stopped him. The other bullies backtracked too. I don't know why but they seem to have been trying to be better. It's really nice not to be pushed into lockers for once.
Rhodey (blinks): Huh.
Pete (walks to the fridge, back turned to the elder avenger): How was your day, sir?
Rhodey's eyes widened at the sight. His face goes through a range of emotions before it settles to amused understanding.
Rhodey: I take it Tones knows about the bullying?
Peter: Oh, er, yeah. He wanted to talk to my principal about it, but I begged him not to. I'm old enough. I can take it. Better me than others, you know? And besides, I'm Spider-Man, sir. Better they hit me who heals fast than others who aren't so lucky.
Rhodey: U-huh. If I know my best friend, he already told you that's shit and you shouldn't have to go through that, superpowers or not.
Peter: Ye-yeah.
Rhodey (sighs): And knowing your kind of genius self sacrificing dumbassery, I'm sure you didn't listen.
Peter: (smiles sheepishly)
Rhodey (nods, arms crossed): Sooo. Curious about that jacket. Tony gave it to you?
Peter (suddenly shy and embarrassed): Oh-uhm, yeah. See, we were working on Dum-E's upgrades last night, so Mr. Stark asked May if I could just stay the night. He lent me this since it was raining this morning, and I didn't have a spare. Why, Mr. Rhodes, do I look weird?
Rhodey (grins, tapping the kid's shoulder): Nope. You look cool, kid. Very Stark.
And so he leads the kid to the sofa, Friday turning the channel to the kid's favorite show without prompting. Rhodey listens to the kid talk. He didn't dare bring attention to the very noticeable Stark technology that makes the jacket one of a kind, its back shifting color from red to gold and revealing a message in bold font.
Rhodey coughs to hide a chuckle at his best friend's antics.
As if the distinct SI mark isn't enough, there's even the well-known signature of an overprotective helicopter mentor.
"If hurt, you'll answer to Iron Man.
-T.S."
#Peter Parker#irondad and spider son#Irondad#Avengers#Spider-Man#Spiderson#irondad and spiderson fanfiction#Tony Stark#james rhodes#irondad and spiderson
794 notes
·
View notes
Note
HELLO NAMIS GIRLFRIEND 🫡🫡💥💥💥💥💥 would love to request some general mihawk x reader hcs !!!!!!! gn or masc reader if you please ^_^ love him and his bigass unblinking eyes . thanks in advance !!!! 🧡🧡🧡🧡
hi hello anon!! this was rlly fun to work with, i think mihawk and a silly little creature is truly the dynamic ever.
summary: meet-cute turned meet-ugly on kuraigana island. collective hc thing about awkward!mihawk and a gn!reader who doesn’t know when to shut up to save their life.
word count: 580 words // 0.5k
cw: none!
with roronoa zoro returned to his captain, and perona’s soul floating far from her body as usual — dracule mihawk is perhaps a little lonely. while it's something he wouldn't admit, or truly let bother him in any way. but it is strange, the lack of noise and clatter around the castle. at first, he takes the opportunity to relax. read more books, lounge around, train every once and a while.
the routine is boring. he feels as though he may crawl right out of his skin. however, one morning, he discovers a surprise. on the way back to his makeshift training grounds, after feeding the many monkeys with swords, obviously — he finds an intruder.
and, well, maybe that isn't exactly the right word. you're young, have an androgynous air about yourself, and are currently hanging from one of the bear traps perona set up on a whim. he has to stifle a laugh, albeit small, since he'd warned her that roronoa would most likely fall victim.
but it isn't his ward, back from travelling already. he cuts you down from the tree, and offers a gloved hand. you get to your feet with a grin, looking him up and down.
"ha! i didn't actually think i'd find you here," you laugh, bending forward a little to catch your breath.
he only stares back, blinks once, and then twice.
"i just mean- uh, there are a lot of rumours, you know! when i was travelling around the neighbouring islands, they told me this place was haunted."
mihawk sighs. tourism, one of the most dreadful crimes of all. maybe even worse than piracy, or men with red hair who don't know when to stop talking. you remind him of one in particular, which doesn't help his already souring mood.
"i am not surprised," he says, tone measured, "many fear the unfamiliar. kuraigana is home to no phantoms, or vampires for that matter."
you can't help the smile that spreads unwillingly across your face. the barkeep at the last inn you'd slept in had indeed spoken of a vampire lord. "heard that one through the grapevine, huh?"
that stare is back on you again, and the moniker 'hawkeye' is starting to make way too much sense. "i beg your pardon?"
"don't worry about it," you snort, waving a hand in dismissal. "but i do have a favour to ask, you mind if i stay over for a bit?"
"..."
"listen, i have a good reason, okay?" you plead.
"and that is?"
"well, i may have taken something kind of important. from someone important. by accident, obviously, i'm totally not a pirate. i don't believe in piracy at all," you explain, gesturing to the ocean far behind you both. "and honestly, the guy seemed pretty mad, so i kinda just uh-"
"i get the feeling that if i let you continue on like this, we'll be here all day," mihawk says, before turning abruptly and heading back toward his original destination.
you run after him on a whim, expecting either rejection entirely or the cool steel of the sword he has strapped across his back. "hey, hey, wait up! i thought we were getting to know each other!"
"no time for that now," he replies, doesn't even turn to check you're following. "if what you say is true, i suppose leaving a poor mouse out to be eaten alive is unbecoming of a warlord."
"whatever you say, mr captain warlord sir."
"..."
"sorry, sorry! oi, watch it-"
FIN
happily ever after. he only kills u a little bit
#one piece#one piece x reader#dracule mihawk#hawkeye mihawk#one piece mihawk#mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk x reader#requests#requests open#gn!reader#mihawk x gn!reader
55 notes
·
View notes
Note
could u write something abt shigaraki finding out his crush has a mini crush on eraserhead? 👀
tumblr ate this so you're getting the condensed version. my apologies but if you are upset you need to yell at tumblr hq and be really niceys to me bc i had to write this from scratch TWICE.
ANYWAYS because it's my vision I'm editing this to be more of S1 Shigaraki overthinking your agreement of calling Eraser-head 'cool' post USJ. Reader is implied to be closer in age to Shigaraki and Shigaraki is implied to think that Aizawa may or may not be more than ten years older than he actually is.
HEADCANONS AND DRABBLE UNDER CUT
First of all, he can't exactly blame you because Eraser IS pretty cool. He can't deny what he's said himself: while his quirk is decent, it's the skills that back it up-- He does above and beyond what all of the other fakers claim to do, for nothing but the safety and peace of mind for a few snot-nosed brats who want to become heroes. He's cool. HOWEVER-- him being cool (for a hero) and him being a match for you are two completely different questions. He goes down a full fledged rabbit hole of comparing himself to Aizawa in order to win you back. (or rather, win you over in the first place, but who's counting?)
Where the hell does that old man get off seducing people?! As a matter of fact, what the hell does he have that Shigaraki doesn't? Other than the ability to grow facial hair. (Sorry, but he cannot. It's not happening. Aizawa has been able to grow a beard since he was in high school if we count MHA Vigilantes as canon.)
Is it the hair? His hair is pretty shaggy too, and he could be considered growing it out. Aizawa has more of a curl pattern but they both pay the exact amount of care to their hair: none. He definitely could beat him on that. Sure, Aizawa has a low voice...if you LIKE that sort of thing...but Shigaraki still has a few years left of growing. His voice could deepen by then. The physique? Well...he may be a LITTLE bit shorter, and Eraser does have some muscle hidden underneath those baggy clothes...BUT THOSE THINGS DIDN'T STOP HIM FROM GETTING HIS ASS KICKED!!
He not-so-subtly reminds you that as competent as Eraser was, he also figured out his gimmick and while Eraser himself wasn't able to land a significant blow onto him, he, however, was able to disintegrate part of his arm. PLUS the nomu beat him anyways (he takes credit for that since he brought the nomu along as part of his grand strategy)
"He's not so great." Shigaraki reminds you at the hideout. After the rest of the staff foiled his plans at USJ, he's needed a lot of support due to the bullet wounds in several of his joints, and you graciously help to nurse him back to health. You're in the middle of changing his bandages when he brings this up, and you give him a questioning look because...who the hell is he talking about?? His red eyes meet yours as he looks down at you from his chair. "Eraser-head."
"I'm better for you than he is." His voice is part whisper, part grunt, and almost completely inaudible as he looks away from you. Once again, you ask him to repeat himself because you can't hear him, and he backtracks-- just a little-- in itchy irritation. "I said I'm better than he is." Shigaraki rasps out, enunciating each consonant. He wishes you were a little quicker on the uptake, not considering maybe it's his own evasive way of phrasing things that's gotten him to this point.
"Of course you are."
He has to double take. It's an answer he's come to expect from Kurogiri, who has been his caretaker for over ten years, but to hear it from you gives it a whole new meaning. His heart beats loudly, almost painfully in his chest as you shrug, as if you're saying something completely obvious.
"If I wanted to jump ship after USJ, I would have done so back then, you know?" Careful hands reapply the clean bandages to his arms while you speak, no trace of hesitation or deception lining your tone. "You said it too, he's pretty cool-- But a hero's a hero." Your eyes and tone sharpen at that. "Garbage doesn't stop being garbage just because it's a little shiner than usual."
You didn't join up with them on anything so petty, that could be shaken so easily. It's true that Eraser-head is a better hero than most, but he's still a part of hero society. He defends it, he upholds it, he perpetuates it...and so any appreciation for him starts and stops there. There's no room for the kind of hypocritical half-measures that heroes embody. "So what if we got our asses kicked? We're going to get our revenge soon enough. We're better than that, aren't we?"
You tap your knuckles against the uninjured parts of his hand in a kind of fist-bump. Ah, he realizes, you've misunderstood him. You think he needs encouragement after the fumble and losing the nomu. His lips twitch into a half smile. Maybe you're right...about that at least. The hit to his pride has gotten him into this kind of weak thinking. Shigaraki allows a few of his fingers to brush up against the outside of yours.
Of course. What a foolish thing for him to consider. He didn't have anything to fear about Eraser. Maybe in another world, a different world, a man like that could have been an asset-- someone who understood the kind of darkness that bred the both of you. But the heaviness that weighs upon you and the drive that binds you two together is stronger and more ferocious than any hypocritical kindness that current hero society offers you.
Kurogiri doesn't miss the exchange, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing fondly as the distraction that was currently weighing on Shigaraki disappears with just a gesture and a few words from you.
"We're better than that." Shigaraki agrees. "It'll be different next time." He intends to show you that you chose the right side-- the right man-- even if you don't know it yet. He'll let you think it's just about USJ for a little while longer, if it means he can hold your hand like this.
You'll realize soon enough.
#bnha headcanons#mha headcanons#shigaraki tomura x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader
148 notes
·
View notes
Note
Don't worry I feel the same way about mochi ice cream D: the texture is great!! But the flavor....ehhhh. Also, Rin needs a psychologist gf lmao he and so many other boys (like Reo and Nagi) could benefit from having a partner with the analytical thought process and emotional maturity to call them out on shit and give them advice 😂😂😂
Out of curiosity btw, have you ever thought about what lipstick color/or chapstick flavors the bllk boys would like?? Reo supposedly like older, classy women so he seems like a vintage red lip guy with maybe a minty chapstick. Nagi, Isagi, and Rin seem like pink boys for sure but different shades. Bachira is a fruity flavor and likes the wholeeee color palette
aaaAaA pls the psych girlfriends …… yes absolutely </3 rin would HATE the thought of it, but eventually learn that it actually has its perks. nagi wouldn’t realize that it’s helpful 2 hear someone’s pov and actually give him some good insight on what’s going on w his thoughts. reo actively asks u for advice & wants to hear your opinion!!!! it’s not like he’s going 2 make use of it immediately tho lol he’s so baby :( but yes definitely agree. this is extremely self-indulgent but yes all of these stressed out emotionally constipated men need a psychologist s/o. end of story i am actually assigning them one as we speak :,3
as for the lipsticks !!! this idea is so cute omg ^_^ for starters reo is definitely into red, cool toned and rich!! matte or lacquered, it doesn’t really matter, he just loves the color in overall. it’s very classy && he’s absolutely into that. also may i add,, lipsticks stains…..oh he goes cRAZY. as for chapstick flavors yes! def something minty, nothing too weird, he likes the way it feels cool when he gives u kisses!
bachira is so fun omg he truly does like all the colors on u,, it’s so hard 4 him to pick a favorite he just loves them all :( watches you apply it in the mornings &&he’s so giddy ‘cause you can pull off anything and he likes how fun it looks. fruity chapsticks are a must, even better if u have a few different flavors and he makes it a little game to guess which one is it that you’re wearing today >_<
yes !! rin, isagi, & nagi all love pinkish shades. there's something so cute about it! i'd say rin is into nude-ish colors, the kinda pink that looks like your lip color but better, and loves if you wear a darker lip liner w/ it <33 it makes your pout pop nd he just cannot stop thinking about it!!!! chapstick flavor - anything sweet :( the sweeter the better. coconut, vanilla, or some other fancy stuff, he loves to lick his lip and taste the remaining traces!
isagi is more into lip gloss i feel like !! he doesn't discriminate between shades, but pink just does it for him. it makes your complexion all dewy and fresh and he likes how sweet it makes u look :< also adores the way ur lipgloss leaves stains on his cheeks and stains his lips a soft pink as well whenever u smooch him. somethin about yoichi strikes me as a simple,, lovely lovely guy and so i think his fav chapstick is just plain strawberry!!!! mmhm
last but not least, nagi likes u in a little toned down pinks. liquid matte, preferably,, so that it's not a pain later when u kiss him and leave marks :x BUT i'd say he also has a think for darker lip colors, i'm thinking a nice deep chocolate brown or perhaps a brown-ish gloss, i'm thinking of that one fenty heat shade..... it catches his attention, makes your lips so vibrant and accentuated, he cannot resist it!!!!! loves ur cola flavored chapsticks
62 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey since I also have threeleaves brainrot: do u have any opinions on how Kingsley's style might adapt as he goes on? Since when he was "born" he hated Molly's coat and thought it was tacky. But now seems to be leaning into the big sparkly red coat and tall boots look?
On the other hand, the official art seems to suggest that he had Molly's face tattoos removed. Which I get, but.... still makes me sad 💔😭😭😭
i always ascribe to the idea of king being the reconciliation of lucien and molly's souls a la tneol so i imagine his sense of style to be a healthy mix of both. I can see why he, at first, found mollys fashion distasteful seeing as he was very much Not molly and didn't want tht identity shoved onto him. But i can imagine the more comfortable he gets with his life and sense of self, he'd loosen up more i guess on past opinions. The 3leaves have a flair for the dramatics after all, so while he may not be into the bright colors like molly, he'd have his own way of making a statement. Also ik u only asked abt Kingsley but ill get into my 3leaf fashion his bc they're all so different and i love them <3
Lucien: ik the book said he liked those rlly deep cut shirts but tbh i think thts the most Risqué hell get lol. Lucien to me has a very modest fashion sense, as in function is more important than looks, and hes fine with it so long as its durable. He favors darker colors and prefers looser easy to move in clothes tht can protect him from the elements. Maybe its the former urchin kid in him tht wanted to survive the run and not draw too much attention to himself 🤔 Anyways i also personally think he wld rlly like skirts and dresses (this has nothing to do with my latest Lucy drawing but alas). As always, performance is a big theme for him, so i think he wld have clung to the idea of looking intimidating and wld have a hard time letting go of the specific image of what being the nonagon looks like in bis head. But without the weight of tht title and maintaining appearances, as well as getting to actually explore his gender and presentation, i think lucien wld rlly enjoy nice flowy skirts and dresses. Still very low key with little to no jewelry tho
Molly: what is there to say tht has not been said abt our favorite tacky tiefling!!! His appearance is like the picture definition of hedonism, getting intricate tattoos and wearing the brightest most garish clothes in existence. Regardless, i think its touching how he woke up with no memories knowing he had a dark past, and deciding to make his body his own. A complete 180 from lucien in terms of appearance and thts exactly how molly wld have wanted it. In regards to gender presentation, he wldnt have the same hangups lucien wld so molly did whatever the hell he wanted and he looked good doing it!!
Kingsley: oh man ok. So he doesn't have the same taste as molly regarding bright and tacky clothes but hes not like lucien who's a function over fashion person. Instead, he makes a statement in a way thts a good mix of both. Whereas lucien is more rough around the edges and molly is bright and colorful, king is more sleek i think. Black, gold, silver, hints of red or cool tones. Dark coats befitting of a pirate captain, tasteful jewelry, etc. Dramatic in his own way, goth instead of glam rock. Maybe in the beginning he kept it plain to figure put what he liked without the burden of other identities being pushed onto him but after, he develops a look thts very much himself :)
#woops didnt mean to write sm abt lucien on a kingsley ask but what can i say hes my favoritest worstie#mighr as well tag them ig .typed too much at 1 am 😑😴#lucien tavelle#mollymauk tealeaf#kingsley tealeaf
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi! do u have any tips on making skin tones vibrant but still look natural?
Hey, I realised I answered this in my last ask.
For me, the key is to use multiple layers rather than one - if you go full blast with your vibrance tool it will make skin tones really red/yellow. I am not perfect at this but some of things I use to help tone down skin tones are: colour balance, photo filter and Channel Mixer. So, for example, if they look yellow/red I will crank down the reds and up the blues or vis-versa if their skin tones look too blue.
For the purpose of this ask I'm just going to show you what a difference each things make. So, let's take this scene as it's very yellow/red:
Photo filter: I've added a cooling photo filter at 55% opacity and this is what it does:
Channel mixer: I toned down the reds and bumped up the blues to get rid of the yellow tones:
Colour balance: This one hasn't worked as well as it's a bit pinky/green but definitely less yellow:
My method tends to be to use the photo filter or channel mixer first and then colour on top of it. Colour balance I use to alter the colouring so if, when colouring, my gif still looks too red/yellow I will use the greens/blue to tone down those colours (and vis-versa).
To make the gif vibrant then I use the vibrance tool along with selective colouring. However, you have to be careful with as it can effect the skin-tone if you blast it on. I've sort of answered that here but the masking tool is great to erase any vibrancy you don't want - it helps if the skin-tone is already looking more 'natural' when you go in with selective colouring and vibrancy tools. Building your layers is key for me, I sometimes end up with like 30+ layers but that's fine, it's all part of the process. Sometimes, it's not perfect though - mine definitely aren't!
Creating layer masks is also great too because it allows you to brush over any vibrancy you don't want (I gave an example in my last ask if you need).
Here is an example of vibrancy but using the masking tool - this is a better gif to colour because the subject doesn't move around as much - you may find on some gifs you may have to just embrace the colouring the scene gives you if you want it vibrant.
I'm not sure if that answers your question but hope it helps :)
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Anastasia Beverly Hills---Modern Renaissaince palette (Fall 2016)
I’m not mad at the original layout, but I do think this is an improvement. I am still not pleased with the position of Warm Taupe and Buon Fresco, but I didn’t like it when I had them switched, either. Idk bro, idk.
You know, for being The Warm-toned Palette that started the trend, this actually has quite a few cool-toned reds in it.
going in columns from left to right, the new shade list is as follows:
Tempera
Vermeer
Primavera
Buon Fresco
Golden Ochre
Warm Taupe
Burnt Orange
Love Letter
Raw Sienna
Venitian Red ��
Realgar
Red Ochre
Antique Bronze
Cyprus Umber
#eyeshadow#abh modern renaissance#makeup#but what is a cool toned red u may ask?#Love Letter. Love Letter is a cool-toned red.#Also I love the shade names in this palette#the part of me that didn't hate being a painting major is swooning rn#it is a very small part#i legitimately hated painting
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
Aaah ok so I have been thinking abt this for a while but could u do poly!mikaelson before they are dating the reader and someone new shows up and they all kinda get jealous XD u can change or alter it in general I dont mind if its easier for you:) I just thought it would be a cool concept/fic!
Hell yes give me that Poly!Mikaelson goodness 🥰 I'm sorry for how the end gets angsty
Warnings: Angst, Jealous!Mikaelsons,
Part two
It was cold evening as the Mikaelsons were in the Salvatore home for a Christmas having been invited by Caroline and Elena as a show of good faith. Though they didn't want to join the Scooby gang, Elena dropped that you were going to be there so they headed for Mystic Falls the next morning.
"Y/N! You made it." Caroline said getting the siblings attention and you looked just gorgeous. You were dressed in a red long sleeved dress that had a deep neckline as the dress hugged your curves perfectly.
"Thanks for the invitation. I missed you all." You say letting Stefan take your coat and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. What caught the Mikaelsons eye away was that you were wear pieces of jewelry they gifted.
"How was France?" Caroline asked you feeling a little jealous with how good you looked and holding Klaus's attention with ease.
"Oh! It was amazing I should thank Nik for pushing me to do my studies there."
"Klaus? Sent you to France?" Caroline asked you grabbing a glass of champagne as you missed the jealousy in her tone.
"Yeah.... he and Elijah was a big help." You said as a man stepped up next to you catching the siblings eyes glaring.
"Who is this?"
"Oh Caroline this is Claude." You tell Caroline as you were unaware of how Claude was being glared at.
"You brought a French guy."
"I didn't want to leave my sweet girl just yet." Claude said his French accent was a bit heavy. Claude was indeed handsome Rebekah wasn't going to deny but the fact the man was touching you made her angry along with her brothers.
"Y/N, it is lovely to see you again." Rebekah said hugging you close and you smiled brightly hugged her back.
"Beka, good to see oh meet Claude. Claude this is my close friend Rebekah Mikaelson."
"Hello pleasure to meet you." Claude said smiling kissing Rebekah's hand as you smiled.
"Y/N had you seen my brothers yet? Elijah is itching to dance with you." Rebekah said looping her arms with yours taking you to the Mikaelson men. You looked back to Claude who just smiled.
"Go to your friends. I'll be fine." Claude said as you nodded letting Rebekah take you to your favorite men. You laughed when Kol rushed over hugging you lifting you up.
"I missed you darling."
"I missed you too Kol." You said as Klaus took your hand spinning you to get a better look at your dress.
"You look breathed taking love." Klaus says making you flush as the four picked up on your heart skipping a beat.
"I have to agree with Niklaus." Elijah says kissing your hand as you giggled shyly your flush got worse. You let Elijah take you out to the dance floor to dance.
"I heard you are now officially a French pastry chef. Congratulations my dear."
"Thank you Elijah. Maybe I can make something for you guys some time." You say as Elijah spinned you pulling you back much closer. You swallowed getting lost in Elijah's soft mocha eyes as he was a breath away from kissing you when Klaus came to cut in.
"May I brother?"
"Of course Niklaus." Elijah says a bit annoyed but let you dance with Klaus smirking when you hid your face in Klaus's chest.
"So are you a Claude serious?" Klaus asked as you swayed and you sighed relaxing in Klaus's arms.
"Yeah we are. He is really a sweet guy, Nik so don't get all protective friend on me."
"Only looking out for you love." Klaus says looking down at you as you looked up seeing a softness in his blue eyes. Kol cut in before anything could happen.
"You boys seem to know when to cut in." You tease as Kol laughed placing his forehead on yours.
"You know us always want to annoy one another." Kol says as you giggled enjoying your dance with Kol who took in your sweet scent. As the night went on Rebekah couldn't take it anymore and gently stole you away from Claude .
"Beka?" You asked squeaking when she suddenly kissed you then pulled away seeing you flushing face.
"Y/N....you need to know that I and my brothers are in love with you." Rebekah tells you surprising you. Then you realized the gifts, each of them going out of their way to be sure you were happy, the dinner and taking you out, sleeping in their beds.
You realized that they were in love with you and that the on look reason you ran off to France was because you loved them too.
"Y/N, there you are. I need to ask you something." Claude said taking you inside before you could say a word to Rebekah who followed after. Rebekah stood next to her brothers as they badgered her for answers if you felt the same.
"Everyone I wish for your attention!" Claude said getting everyone's attention making you feel shy. You flushed embarrassed when the Frenchman got on one knee.
"Y/N, you are the love of my life. You have won my heart at day one so I wish to make you wife. Please say yes?" Claude asked pulling out a beautiful engagement ring holding your hand.
You were embarrassed as you weren't used to being the center of attention and you looked to the people who held your heart as they watched. You were feeling pressure to say yes and the Mikaelsons knew your biggest flaw was not wanting to let people down.
Elijah and Rebekah knew you would have loved something more quiet for a proposal and they got the feeling Claude knew this. They couldn't shake the feeling that Claude asked in front of people so you were forced to say yes.
"Yes....I'll mar." You were cut off when Claude slipped the ring on your hand and kissing you as everyone clapped. You were more embarrassed hating the feeling of hurt bubbling in your chest knowing you hurt your closest friends.
"Congratulations." Elijah said shaking Cluade's hand as Kol noticed how uncomfortable you were, they all did.
"Thank you. As Y/N's closest friends, we would love it if you attended the wedding." Claude said putting emphasis on friends as if he knew something but the Mikaelsons weren't known to give up what was theirs.
"We would love to." Klaus said giving a smirk the one you knew all too well as the other's had almost identical ones. You had the feeling that it wasn't going to end well for someone.
#rere's stories#mikaelsons x reader#mikaelson family x reader#elijah mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaelson x reader#kol mikaelson x reader#rebekah mikaelson x reader#elijah mikaelson imagine#klaus mikaelson imagine#kol mikaelson imagine#rebekah mikaelson imagine#the originals x reader
509 notes
·
View notes
Text
「 enha going “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad” — hcs 」
— 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: requested by 🍓 anon! frankly, i don’t think this falls into the headcanons category bc they’re all bulletpoint scenarios (which is why this is a bit longer than the other one i wrote) :’> anyways, hope y’all enjoy, and sorry this took a bit longer than intended, hehe <3
— 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, humor, angst in ni-ki’s part if you squint lol
♡ — taglist: @yoshinung @cyberhwng @stargirlstories @lovelycharm05 @honeyju
— 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.9k
「 LEE HEESEUNG ! 」
listen, you love heeseung with all your heart. you would gladly give the world to him if he asked in a heartbeat; but if you have to sit through his aegyo one more time you will throw hands
it didn’t even agitate you the first time you saw his aegyo—in fact, you even found it endearing: you’d use it to clown him every time he’d ask for something
“oh? heedeungie wants a cookie, i hear?”
he does nothing bc he’s resigned himself to the fact that you and the boys would never live him down the moment he agreed to do it
but as he progressively got better and more comfortable practicing cute expressions, it became a “oh, how the turns have tabled” moment and he now uses it to clown you
he knows you hate it, too, so when he does aegyo he goes to the extreme—dignity be damned
so when you give him the blankest look the next time he pulls the cutesy card again, he laughs gently, puffing his cheeks out as he pokes his dimple
“hee,” you start, “do you plan on getting out of this relationship in one piece?”
but your boyfriend—being the absolute warrior he is—pays no heed to your tone and moves closer, your demise giving him all the joy he could possibly have. “why? i thought you loved heedeungie?”
not anymore, you don’t
before you can retort, heeseung grins at your expression. “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad~”
when you go quiet he considers stopping the whole façade
then he feels your lips on his
haha, heartbeat go brrrrrrrr
mans is so 👏 damn 👏 flustered 👏 when you put your hand against his cheek
you pull away once you can feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips; he’s rosy and breathless and he nearly loses his mind once he realizes you’re grinning
“so that’s what it takes to get you to stop… maybe you should do aegyo more often.”
——————
「 JAY PARK ! 」
“oh, gODDAMMIT QUIT IT WITH THE TURTLE SHELLS, JAY.”
“WHY DON’T YOU MAKE ME??”
this is what the rest of the members have to deal with every time jay has the nerve to ask you to play video games with him you’re both the reason why jungwon bought everyone a pair of earplugs each
your level of competitiveness skyrockets whenever it’s a duel (or even games where you’re both on the same team—it’s just a trial of who can outdo the other)
god forbid anyone who suggests card games on a sleepover (looking at you, jake; ni-ki still hasn’t forgiven him for suggesting uno when he was situated right between you and jay) because they’re in for a long time of ✨ suffering ✨
it’s an instinct for everyone to put one foot out the door when you and jay settle in front of the television
this match in mario kart, however, went a little ,,, differently
“i will crush you, jongseong,” you seethe, eyes blazing because it’s your third rematch and the tiebreaker and you don’t know what you’ll do if you end up losing.
“that’s what you said the last two games,” he scoffs, leaning forward in immense concentration.
“your yoshi character can suck it.”
“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”
dude’s about to jump in ecstasy once he’s a few seconds away from the finish line at the third lap, but oh ho ho jay.gif has left the building once you kiss him on the cheek
literally freezes in shock for a solid ten seconds
in the span of which you took your chance to zoom past his avatar, thus winning the tiebreaker
looks at you, then at the screen, back to you again, then—
“WAIT THAT IS C H E A T I NG THAT DOESN’T COUNT WAIT WHAT—”
(he’s highkey vv flustered though; if you just got off your high horse and looked at him you’d have noticed how red he got)
——————
「 JAKE SHIM ! 」
ever since you told jake that you also weren’t able to attend your formal in the past, he’s been dead-set on asking you to a slow dance
you’d told him about it during your one of your many heart-to-heart talks, convos about fading memories from elementary and the anxiety-riddled nights in highschool, until it dwindled down to that
“i’m cool with it—formal is just an excuse to drain half of your college tuition for one night, anyway,” you’d said, but jake didn’t miss the way your eyes went softer in a haze of memories of what could’ve
so now you’re staring up at him, with his hand extended out to you, moon river playing in the background and jake’s smile has never been brighter
“you’re unbelievable,” you state.
“but you’re smiling anyway,” jake shrugs as he pulls you up, he places your hands on his shoulders gingerly, his own pair travelling down to hold your waist.
the next two minutes are spent in immeasurable laughter and half-hearted insults (“y/n, you’re a terrible dancer.” “says the dude who keeps on stepping on my toes every ten seconds, can you not—”); nevermind that there aren’t any cheap party lights blinding you, or your present classmates aren’t there to croon over who you were dancing with—in this tiny living room, all you can focus on is how it feels so right to have jake in your arms, and how this might be better than any formal you’d have attended.
your incredulous mask wears away, and jake dips his head to check with a grin. “aw, is my baby getting sentimental?”
you scoff, suppressing a smile. “mate, you’re the one who cries over layla at least five times a day. i hate you.”
“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad,” he taunts, relishing the way you laugh in response. you do kiss him, on the nose, softly, before resting your head on his shoulder, holding him closer.
“shim jaeyun, you are one of the most cliché people i know,” you pull away to look at him, at his eyes twinkling softly beneath the light, and you smile. “but thank you for this. truly.”
jake laughs softly, presses a kiss to your forehead. “i wouldn’t have formal any other way than this.”
——————
「 PARK SUNGHOON ! 」
so,, uh,,, i may have gotten a tad bit too carried away with sunghoon’s so i wrote a separate drabble for him,,,, hehe
it’s called “loser (affectionately)” and you can find it right here!
did i base the title off the “twitter: hellsite (derogatory)” meme here on tumblr? yes. yes, i did.
do i also think the drabble’s way too fucking cheesy? also yes.
but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless </3
——————
「 KIM SUNOO ! 」
here’s another one that turned into a full-fledged drabble because i have no self-control </3
it’s titled “maybe the night” and you can find it right here!
i got soft listening to ben&ben again 😔 their music is so damn good hhhhhh
highly recommend them !!
(also while writing this i realized i have a soft spot for our ddeonu i love him sobs)
——————
「 YANG JUNGWON ! 」
you hated yang jungwon.
well, no, that’s a lie—let me rephrase that again: you hated yang jungwon for having absolutely no mercy on your wallet
as if you weren’t worn out from the sparring match in taekwondo earlier, your best friend had to go and put the weight of his pride on your shoulders; ambling around with a stance that says, i’m the best and this abnormally overpriced chocolate milk carton acquired from y/n’s demise is solid proof.
(you’re grateful for your friendship, but this is one of the times when you regret ever making the bet with him)
the blushing clouds mark the end of another day, and you sigh, pocketing your (very few) change grumpily. “i’m going to go blind if you keep on smiling like that, yang—tone the brightness down a notch.”
jungwon: no ❤️
you try and reason with him that it was because you had too many shit you had to deal with prior to the match, but the dimpled teen wouldn’t hear any of it (knowing that all of it is bluff, you’re a terrible liar)
“you know that was a one time thing, right?” you say, and jungwon mocks you la-la-la-you-lost and he skips across street like a kid does after school, “i’m gonna beat you next time—”
“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”
he pokes your cheek and retracts quickly when you try to bite him. you glare at him, but the sun hits the side of your face so you end up squinting at him instead.
then he LAUGHS
(u know,,, the one where his eyes turn into crescent moons and his lil dimple shows? yea, that one)
and you’re just standing there like 🤠
you sigh, partially because you’ve seen him do this one too many times, and because you always fall victim to his charm, so you ruffle his hair and trudge on with the air of a fallen soldier
(dw jungwon holds your hand on the way home and gives you a piece of candy bc he loves you, too)
((you’re still beating his ass next time, though,,,))
——————
「 NI-KI ! 」
ni-ki wants to slam his head against a wall (≡^∇^≡)
(as, per usual, how every highschooler feels as they near the end of another laborious school day)
((but even more so in his case bc who the fuck blurts out “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad” when they’re going against their crush in a debate when they can’t think of a effective counterargument?? ni-ki, apparently))
he didn’t even mean to say it; he was so caught up in the heat of the moment that all heed for whatever slipped through his teeth disappeared, and now the whole class is staring at him open-mouthed in equal parts shock and excitement.
but the worst thing is that you’re staring at him, too—with wide eyes and an expression he can’t read
“n-no, i didn’t mean— i— you…” ni-ki’s hands fly up wildly, his limited braincells trying to think of a way to weasel out of the situation (which is impossible now, it seems). “i’m…”
the teacher observing from the side, who’s been aware of ni-ki’s crush for some time: ᕕ[ ・ ▾ ・ ]ᕗ
heat flares in his cheeks and he looks down cursing you because screw you for being so beautiful and smart why did i have to like you i Hate this
…apparently he’s said that out loud too bc his classmates are losing their shit & he promptly wants to ✨ evaporate ✨
everyone is just “??!!” because they’ve been led to believe that y’all hated each other and now this???
“you… like me?” you squeak, ni-ki can’t bear to look at you and he feels remorse peeking in his chest like an old friend; he waits for rejection, or an insult, at the very least, but when he is met with silence he looks up to see that you’re just as frazzled as he is, and his heart leaps. “like… really like me?”
the answer hangs on his tongue, but the bell intervenes, and everyone collectively jumps. ni-ki is the first to dip. he returns to his seat, grabs his bag in one swift motion; the teacher stutters out the usual end-of-class statement out of habit, and with that the blond ambles out of the room with a bitter look, finishing what his sensei was supposed to say: point to y/n.
but if loverboy looked back at that moment, he might’ve seen you trying to fight back a smile, butterflies roaming your stomach; because you no longer have to pick at daisies, wondering he hates me, he hates me not.
#enhypennetwork#enhypenwriters#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen headcanons#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen drabbles#lee heeseung#jay park#jake shim#park sunghoon#kim sunoo#yang jungwon#ni-ki#this is a mess i know i’m sorry strawberry anon :’>
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
17 going on 27
summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken.
pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f)
genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england
w/c; 22.6k
a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t!
if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨
March 19th, 2011
Thirty, flirty, and thriving!
You finger the dog-eared magazine, last month’s issue of a shoddy fashion magazine that featured top actress Jennifer Garner on the front cover. Her caramel brown highlights practically glow on the page, blown out and beautiful. You suppress a sigh, you long to be the radiant young woman on the cover. The headline is glittery, sparkly and just begging for attention.
Swiping a hand through the pages, your eyes are crowded with over-stimulation. Colorful models dressed up in the latest designs, Chanel and Burberry suits you can only dream of, and happy women at the prime of their lives.
Twenty-seven and in Heaven! You smile wryly at the cheesy rhyme that headlines the following pages, but nevertheless the happy model on the spread does indeed look like they’re in heaven.
Sure, you’re no shrinking violet. Heck, you don’t even consider yourself painfully average. You may not be on the traditional spectrum of popularity in high school, but you get around and have a wonderful best friend and an even better boyfriend. However given the social classes that preside, you do get those moments where you second guess your life’s position. Good thing high school has an expiration date, and you’re close to the end.
“Baby Bun, what are you doing?” the magazine is snatched from your grasp, thrown on the table without a care in the world. Jennifer Garner’s hydro-whitened smile gleams tauntingly at you, “reading that junk is gonna mess with your head.”
Your boyfriend returns from his final suit fitting, his outfit for tonight all pressed and ready to go. He pouts at you, pulling you up by the hand to lead you out of the Men’s Warehouse. Jeon Jungkook. Captain of the lacrosse team, flying by high school with a sports scholarship already in the bag. Eats up attention like plants soak up the sun. Secretly loves taking photographs of his dog and watching Netflix animes at your house.
“Aren’t you excited for prom?”
“Excited to listen to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem on repeat?” you guaff, “as if.”
He pinches your arm lightly, “You also forget that we’re gonna tear up the floor to Nicki Minaj’s Superbass.”
You shrug listlessly, crunching the white plastic closer to your body.
Before you can suck all the air out of the garment bag, Jungkook carefully extracts it from your grasp, easily holding it between his one arm so he can thread his other hand through yours. “I am excited! It’s just that… Jimin’s not gonna be there and we’re sitting with the Yearbook committee.”
Looking down at the floor you extract your hand from his, slipping into his parent’s Honda Civic. The yearbook committee, meaning you’d be sitting at a table with head editor Jennie and her group of friends. Friends that are popular and pretty, just like Jungkook.
Jimin is currently on a flight back from Korea due to a family funeral, therefore leaving a seat empty at your prom table. It was only seat that you cared about, other than Jungkook’s. It’s no one’s fault and Jimin of course is doubly upset to miss prom, but without your best friend you’re not sure if you can survive the night.
One of the few secrets you keep from Jungkook is the fact that Jennie and you aren’t exactly friendly to each other. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t run the in same friend group or you always win the debate in Civics class, but Jennie clearly expresses her dislike for you as easily as she expresses her love for Jungkook.
Which makes you incredibly insecure, but Jennie and Jungkook have been friends for longer than you and him have been together, who are you to intervene?
Jungkook slips in the driver’s seat, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek.
Right. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend, and that should matter more than his friendship with Jennie.
But the smell of his freshly cleaned lacrosse jersey, his duffle bag overflowing with protein powder and unfinished assignments remind you that you have your world and he has his. A conversation about your insecurities could wait until tomorrow.
“When’s Jimin’s flight?” Jungkook asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping on your thigh as he pulls out.
“He’ll be back two hours into the dance,” you report, albeit glumly as you rest your head against the cool window.
“That sucks,” Jungkook replies, a bit of sadness in his tone, “he has to miss out on his prom night.”
You shrug, “Prom isn’t everything, it’s about the people you spend it with.”
“Well then,” he squeezes your thigh, “I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”
You only have a few hours to get ready until you meet Jungkook at his house for pictures, so when you get dropped off, you tell him that he doesn’t have to get out of the car to escort you into your home. But Jungkook is insistent, putting the car in park and getting out your dress for you with such delicacy that you’re positively sure there’s no wrinkles in the fabric. Taking the dress from his grasp you wish him goodbye and a promise to meet each other later.
“Wait,” Jungkook is biting his lip, unable to let go of your hand even though you’re already up the stairs. You’re looking down at him, a rarity considering his tall frame.
“What’s wrong, Kook?”
“Uh, I was just thinking,” he’s scratching the back of his head, and you soften. The little quirk he has is a sign of insecurity, being the star player Jungkook is forced to exude confidence to a fault. “Maybe, we could skip the prom thing? You said so yourself that prom is about the people you spend it with.”
Your eyes widen, clutching your dress tighter. “What? Jungkook, that’s ridiculous. Between the both of us we’ve spent a lot of money on the clothes and the tickets.”
“Right,” he forces a laugh, and you put a hand on your hip to think it out but you can’t quite place what’s going on. “Sorry Bun, I just know how the finale of our favorite anime airs tonight.”
“You’re so silly,” you chastise, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Normally he hates it, but you can’t help but melt when he leans into your touch a little more. “C’mon, I know suits are stuffy and stuff, but let’s just do this high school rite of passage thing. Afterwards we can go to McDonalds or something and watch the recording.”
“You’re right,” his face is red, “what was I thinking? Can’t miss out on a night to see my beautiful girlfriend all dressed up.”
He squeezes your hand one last time, a little too tight for comfort. With a half smile he waves, going into his car and driving off.
You don’t have time to dwell on his weirdness (and trust when you say that Jungkook is plenty weird and it astounds you how the rest of your class has no idea) so you fly up to your room to get your hair and makeup ready. Your parents greet you excitedly along the way, telling you there’s a package left for you on your vanity.
It’s a plain cardboard box, already cut and unwrapped by your parents for convenience. The address shows it came from Korea, proudly displaying the name of your best friend on the return address. Inside is a beautiful compact, made of brushed gold and pink metal. The makeup inside is a loose glitter from a brand that you don’t recognize, but since it’s a gift from Jimin, you trust his taste.
I have to be at prom somehow, Jimin’s note on the box reads, don’t overthink and have fun!
You snort, reading the sticky note over and over in Jimin’s voice. Looking over the shade, you can’t help but grimace at the cliché name. Wishing Dust. The color is a little too white and silvery for your taste, but you’ll wear it in honor of Jimin.
The dress, the hair, the makeup all come together little by little. You like the ritual of getting ready, building yourself up to the highest order and feeling closer and closer to the beautiful women in magazines. Surprisingly, your favorite part of getting ready is applying the glitter that Jimin gifted you. The puff enclosed is cloud soft, and surprisingly the color doesn’t look too ashen on your skin. The glitter sinks into your skin like a soft butter, accentuating your collarbones and cheeks as if you are glowing from within.
You smile at yourself in the mirror. A little part of you wishes you could look like this everyday. You wish you could always look and feel this confident, and act mature and graceful.
A buzzing on your desk stops your wishful thinking, and you frown at the message that lights up your phone.
Jungkook: sorry bun, but the civic finally broke down and its on its way to car heaven. Could we meet at the party hall instead? We can take pictures there, jennie mentioned yearbook hired a photographer
Disheartened, you send a quick text back saying it’s fine. Any more explanation on your feelings would reveal your disappointment. You don’t know how you’re going to tell your parents that they won’t be taking pictures with your boyfriend anytime soon. So you suck it in and take solo pictures for your parents and some group selfies. This is just one bump in the night, the rest of it should be smooth sailing.
But when your parents drop you off at the venue your eyes first land on a beat up Honda Civic. You’re pretty sure car heaven isn’t at the prom.
The rest of your entrance is a blur as you go through every corner of the venue, searching for your boyfriend. You’re clutching his matching flower in your hand, a beautiful red rose with baby’s breath circling around it, all clutched together in a black silk ribbon. You wonder what kind of flower he bought you.
But it’s nearly impossible to find him. Not at the photobooth, the appetizer buffet, or in the lobby. It’s not until you’re sweating at the brow and nearing the corner of the venue that you do find him.
Lips locked, kissing Jennie.
The plastic encasing Jungkook’s boutonniere drops, clanging to the ground.
Whispers of you circle the air, meeting your ears and confirming all your insecurities.
“Oh my god, I knew Jungkook was cheating on her!”
“Wow, how pathetic. She ran all the way to prom alone to see this?”
“I thought his girlfriend was a smart girl. How did she not know that their relationship was a bet all along?”
Jungkook and Jennie are on the balcony, looking picture perfect in matching formal attire and flowers. The sun is setting, not taking its time as it sinks deeper and deeper into the horizon. The sky darkens and the air is chilly, much like your heart.
Jungkook's eyes are wide and in shock as he watches you from the balcony, but Jennie’s are sharp and satisfied. Satisfied, as if the whole thing had been orchestrated.
While you can’t hear him because he’s so far away, you can see the ghost of your name on his lips. Your ears are ringing, numb to the laughter of the students watching and the pity that others are throwing at you. You feel dumb. You feel like throwing up. In a bout of anger your heel digs into the plastic of the boutonniere, crushing the innocent rose in its clear coffin.
You don’t make it far out the door when one of your favorite teachers snatches you in concern.
“Honey, any further and you’ll be running on the highway," Mrs. Song jokes, pulling you away from the entrance.
You feel like a newborn deer in your heels and incredibly heavy in your dress as Mrs. Song drags you over to a staff bathroom. It's far, far away from the actual party. Mrs. Song doesn't say anything, and just gives you a sad smile as she let's you go into the single stall alone.
Sitting on the toilet and not giving a care that your dress is probably getting soiled, you bury your face in your hands and finally let the tears flow. Fat, frustrated tears roll down your cheeks without a care in the world.
"Mrs. Song please, I need to get in there."
"Now Jungkook, I think you've done enough for today. Go back to the party and don't worry about it."
You can imagine Jungkook now, he hated it when people told him not to worry. It only made him more annoyed, fists probably clenched under his perfectly tailored suit and his cute teeth uncharacteristically gritted. He cared to a fault, at least you thought he did. He ruined your night, he made you feel so dumb and silly.
But the longer you stayed in the dim bathroom, you could care less. Thank goodness for Mrs. Song guarding the door. Why would he bother to follow you? It turns out all your insecurities are not in vain, and that you’ve been ignoring a gut feeling you’ve mistaken for your lack of trust. You shouldn’t have trusted Jungkook. You shouldn’t have been so tolerable of Jennie.
Goodness, you feel so stupid. You hope that there are other bathrooms for staff to use, because you want to coop yourself in here until the last dance. Mascara drips on your sleeves, your hands swiping at your cheeks to stop any tears from staining your dress even further.
The more you hear Jungkook and Mrs. Song argue, the more you want to disappear. You bury yourself on the floor, uncaring of how dirty the tiles are. Glitter smears across your cheeks and sticks to your hands, and you no longer feel like the thriving young adult you once felt when you walked out the door this evening.
All you can do is cry and pray you can get through the night. And the next day, and the rest of senior year. You don’t want to see Jungkook or Jennie until graduation, when they walk out of the door and permanently out of your life. You wish you could skip the rest of the semester, and fastforward to the life you’ve carved for yourself in your dreams since freshman year. You wish you could be like the woman on the magazine, who has her whole life put together. To be a woman who holds all the confidence in the world and doesn’t have to worry about stupid men.
Just like the cover. Thirty, flirty and thriving. Just like the models in the magazines. Twenty-seven and in heaven.
Just once, do you want to taste the feeling of having life on your side.
March 20st, 2021
Your first thought is that you feel disgusting.
Of course, falling asleep in a random bathroom stall will make you feel those things. Your dress clinging uncomfortably to your sweating form, lulled to the sounds of Mrs. Song’s temperamental voice and Jungkook’s arguing.
But for some reason it’s a different kind of disgusting. The feeling is rotting in your throat, as if there’s a tang stuck to the roof of your mouth. You also feel impossibly dehydrated, as if you’ve run a marathon. And for some reason you’re sore? Especially in the crotch, and you don’t remember experiencing any cramps yesterday.
Your hands come to your body, and instead of feeling tulle and taffeta your hands are greeted with a silky black negligee that hangs across your waist. Panic stings in your bones like a stroke of lightning.
Eyes snapping open, your breath catches in your throat when you take in the room. You’re on a large plush creme couch, large enough to be a bed. The organza curtains are a shade of bottle green and are opened slightly to let the morning sun in. From your view it seems like this is the top floor of the complex, overlooking the city horizon.
You feel the covers shift slightly, and you realize there’s a naked man sleeping next to you. You scream.
The man screams back with an even higher pitch, falling off the couch and clutching the sheets like a lifeline. “What?” he panics, eyes darting back and forth across the room like he’s on a reality television show. “What the fuck? Is there something on my face! Why are you screaming so early!”
The fact that he’s an adult man and you’re seventeen is even more terrifying, and you feel absolutely naked despite the fact that you’re nearly clothed. But what confuses you more is that this man looks awfully familiar.
Familiar in the sense that you’ve seen him in one too many television sitcoms to count. This man in front of you looks like Kim Seokjin, the protagonist of your favorite television show: Sky City. He has the same plump lips and pretty face, only aged up. But last time you checked on Soompi, Seokjin is supposed to be twenty years old and filming the next season in New Zealand. Arguably he could be his older brother, but he never acted and you don’t think he’d be the spitting image.
“Seokjin?” you taste the name on your tongue, “Kim Seokjin?”
Seokjin relaxes considerably, and he finds it appropriate to return to the couch, placing a tentative hand on your thigh. “Right, were you really that drunk? You got my name right, but it seems that you’ve forgotten that the only name you called me last night was sex god…”
His plush lips meet the ends of your earlobe, and you squeal at the strange sensation.
You’ve had sex with this man and you can’t even remember it? Furthermore how can a peasant like you be in contact with a celebrity? What on earth happened last night? Shouldn’t you be calling the police or panicking more? Where’s the pepper spray and sharp knives where you need them? You can’t even find it in you to find a sharp weapon at your once cherished-idol, who’s apparently unfazed and drinking in your body like he has a taste of it every night.
“What’s the date?” you push him away, looking around for any signs of where you are and how you ended up here.
“It’s the first day of spring,” Seokjin says easily, stretching out on the couch. “I wonder when the cherry blossoms will bloom. Should we have a picnic with Bogum?”
“Where’s my phone, I can’t find my phone!”
Seokjin doesn’t bat an eye as he digs through the couch, pulling something from under him. He waves it in front of your face. “That’s not my phone,” you deadpan.
“Okay I guess you were actually that drunk,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, forcing the large piece of plastic and metal on your palm. “When you went to the bathroom last night you dropped your old phone in the toilet. We picked up a new one on the way to the next bar. Good thing the new Samsung dropped last month!”
Since when are phones this large? You carry the strange weight in your hands, confused as to why Seokjin thinks this is your phone. You own a beat up 2G that barely gets any reception in the school basement. But when you turn it on, the screen recognizes your face immediately and unlocks. Wow, since when do cell phones do face recognition?
A selfie of you and Seokjin appears on the homescreen, looking totally happy.
Is that you?
No longer do you have acne lining your brows, or uneven skin texture. Your smile is high and prominent. Your visage is clean and done with minimal makeup, highlighting your beauty.
The date flickers on the top of the screen. March 20th, 2021: 7:42AM.
You scream again. Seokjin screams again for the heck of it.
“How did this happen!” you shriek, dropping your phone to step up to the window. You bask in your reflection, mildly impressed and even more so afraid of what’s in front of you. Your body has filled out like an adult, and considering it’s ten years into the future, other things have filled out as well. Experimentally, your hands go out to your chest, squeezing. Yep, those knockers were not there the last time you checked.
“Well, you came back from work completely drained from a shoot and I just finished filming my Everyday Skincare Routine video with Vogue,” Seokjin comes up to you, blanket tied around his waist like a long towel. “We met at our usual bar and do what we usually do when we’re both stressed: bang it out.”
You watch as Seokjin’s hands snake around your slick silk, hugging you from behind like it’s second nature. “Is this a dream?” you ask yourself, because it’s not unlikely that you’ve had a sex dream with Seokjin and this is the aftermath dream.
“Nope,” you yelp when Seokjin pinches your butt, hard. It stings. “This is real life, baby.”
“Are we dating?”
You feel Seokjin’s grip tense, and he shoves your innocent question away with a coarse laugh. “You know both you and me don’t do serious relationships. It’s why we work so well together, you know that.”
“Right,” you reply softly. That doesn’t sound like you at all, and it scares you considerably.
“So, I gotta go,” you panic when he lets go and starts searching around for his clothes. Your face heats up at Seokjin’s perky ass staring back at you, and your eyes dart to a random spot in the corner. “I got a green meeting with Ellen, and lord knows I don’t wanna face her wrath if I’m late.”
In seconds he’s fully clothed in a plain shirt and jeans, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Call me beep me, if you wanna reach me,” he sings, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he leaves you in the large apartment.
The door slams with a hard smack and that’s when you collapse on the couch that feels foreign and strange, breaking into tears.
The next time you wake up, it’s the next day. It’s a glaringly bright Sunday and for whatever reason you’re still in this aged-up body. Maybe time travel makes the body really tired. This isn’t a dream. You panic for the second time, walking back and forth around the loft that’s apparently yours. It seems like it’s yours, because the bills that linger on the coffee table have your name and the pictures in the one bedroom are of you and your family.
But the refrigerator in the nook is digital and has fancy ice settings, something you could never imagine owning. Your closet is filled with brand named suits, and with every designer label you pass you mentally rack up the total of just one section. It’s enough to pay for your college tuition if your first choice accepts you.
Wait. You’re apparently twenty-seven, college is long gone.
Lying in your bed feels better, surrounded by familiar pictures of your cousins and family. Your favorite snacks are tucked with care in your nightstand, and it makes you feel a tiny bit better knowing that your favorite chocolate and chips will never change.
What happened in the past ten years? Why don’t you remember anything and are you entirely sure this isn’t some strange fever dream?
Time ticks slowly as you spend the afternoon, glued to your phone. It’s a 25 Note+ and it’s filled with multiple doohickeys and settings that make you feel technologically inept. You never thought you were bad with technology, but clearly these phones have a learning curve attached to them.
You try to call your family, but according to the voicemail left they’re on a Disney cruise that you paid for. Your heart aches at the excited voice of your parents. Why are they on a vacation without you?
The next thing you aim for is finding Jimin’s contact. According to Google Maps, you’re not far from your hometown and you know that Jimin’s always wanted to move to the city so he must be nearby. To your chagrin, his name isn’t on your contact list. Strange, he’s always number two on speed dial.
Clicking on the internet browser, you go to the online Whitepages and search up Park Jimin. There may be a million ones, but maybe you could get a lead. When a picture and an address show up easily with one swipe, you scoff. The internet has no room for privacy ten years later, huh?
The most casual thing you own in your closet is a Free People dress, reaching mid-calf with flowing bell sleeves. Heck, you couldn’t even find a single pair of jeans. You don’t care however, as you swipe your keys from the counter (you gape, you own a Tesla?) and race down to the parking garage.
Jimin’s apartment is on the other side of the city. It’s strange, transitioning from high rises and shiny windows to quaint brick walls and lived-in patio spaces. You feel like it’s a race against time as you make it all the way to his room, knocking feverishly on the mahogany red door.
“What? Who is it?” it’s clear that his room is cheap, the walls thin as you hear his voice shuffle throughout the room. Why are you shaking? It’s just your best friend.
The door swings open and you and Jimin drink each other in. His baby fat has melted from his cheeks, revealing a handsome and charming jawline. His hair is no longer a natural black, but has been dyed to a sandy blond that suits his tan. His eyes, wide in surprise, are still a soft brown but not as bright as when he was seventeen.
“Jimin,” your third round of tears hits you like a truck at the sight of your best friend, and you immediately run into his arms.
But he doesn’t hug you back immediately. In fact, he doesn’t know what to do at all. Your name rolls off his lips like he’s seen a ghost.
You pull away, as if you are burned. You flinch at the way Jimin regards you. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” he looks at you, crossing his arms, “I don’t know what to feel when your old best friend suddenly shows up at your doorstep after ten years.”
What?
“Why would I do that?” you whisper, bracing your hand against the doorframe to steady yourself.
“Well, after graduation you chose a college at the last minute. Decided to go to a prestigious fashion university in Europe. Shacked it up with some British guys and well, forgot about your past but I guess I can’t blame you.”
“But I couldn’t have left you,” you know you’re not even talking to Jimin, but in fact scolding yourself for being so stupid these past ten years. “I was crying for you that night at prom. All I wanted was for you to be there and hold me!”
That strikes a cord. Jimin pops his head into the hallway, looking back and forth to see if anyone is watching. He sighs when your tears turn into sobs, shaking your form. “Come in,” he mutters, ushering you inside.
Jimin’s apartment feels more like home than your apartment does. Cosy and warm with the scent of jasmine brewing on the stove. The pour of tea soothes you slightly as you relax on the worn leather couch.
Jimin hands you a mug, sitting opposite you against the rickety living room table. “Are you okay?” he asks, showing genuine concern for the first time.
“I’m,” you roll the muddy liquid in your grasp, watching the tea leaves tumble. “I just came back from the hospital, actually. Hit my head drinking last night and I’m suffering from memory loss,” you clutch your head for good measure, feigning injury.
“Memory loss?” he gapes, unable to see through your lie.
“Yeah uh,” you wince, “almost ten years of memory loss.”
Jimin isn’t a man who thinks ahead, preferring to live in the moment. You figure he’s not going to question your excuse. Your former best friend nearly drops his tea in the process, hot drops burning his hand. He hisses, placing the plain mug on the table as he goes to his shelves, pulling out your class yearbook.
“Ten years,” he shakes his head, looking like he’s just stepped into a Korean drama. “Is that even possible?”
“Must be,” you sigh, not wanting to delve into the details of how you ended up in the future, “the first thing I did when I woke up was scream my head off. Then I woke up later and the first person I called were my parents who didn’t pick up, and then I wanted to call you but,” you squeeze the cup in your hands, “I couldn’t find your contact so I searched you up.”
“Should we call the hospital or something? Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around like this.”
“Don’t worry, they said the memory loss is only temporary,” you force a smile, knocking your head lightly with the heel of your palm, “I just gotta y’know, catch up a little bit. I thought you could help.”
Jimin is patient, albeit a little nervous, watching carefully as your eyes glaze emptily over the old yearbook. You’re unfazed at the familiar faces and events that are described to you in detail, unable to recall what happened during the events that followed graduation. There’s barely any pictures of you, so it doesn’t help when he tries to explain as much as he can.
You stop him at the sports section, pointing a finger at Jungkook being carried by his fellow teammates during the lacrosse championships. “What happened to Jungkook?”
Jimin shrugged, “Blew his sports scholarship,” your eyebrows float to the top of your forehead, appalled that your former love would do such a thing, “decided to pursue his passion and went to an art school for a degree in photography.”
So much has changed in the past ten years.
“Hey, can you please stop crying?”
“I’m sorry,” you warble, wiping at your sleeve as if the fabric didn’t cost hundreds of dollars, “I must be making you so uncomfortable by barging in. I’ll get out of your life—”
“No, not that. I just don’t like seeing you cry,” Jimin sighs, squeezing your knee, “of course I was upset when you suddenly upped and left town to study in another continent. But I was still happy for you. On the internet you seemed tons happier since highschool.”
“I can say that’s no longer the case,” you mutter sadly, taking a long drag of your tea. The burn flows down your throat, digging you to reality, “I guess I just woke up and wasn’t prepared to be the person I ended up being.”
“Well, what can your former best friend do to make it better?”
Your eyes widen at Jimin’s uneasy stare, as if he’s wondering whether he said the right thing or not.
“Um,” you bite your lip, “will you go shopping with me? I realized I don’t own any sweatpants or sneakers and I would really like to wear something comfortable right now,” you look despondently on your uncomfortable dress, swinging around the sleeves that seem to snag onto everything.
“Okay,” he nods easily, “will you also buy me new sweatpants and sneakers? And dinner? I really want a New York Strip.”
“What?” you furrow your brows, “can I afford that?”
He chuckles to himself, pulling you up and wiping the tears on your face with a tissue from his pocket. You don’t even care to ask whether the tissue is clean, only focusing on the tender gesture that you’ve missed so much.
“Honey, you’re one of the co-editors of Ego. I’m sure a couple pairs of sweatpants and steak will barely make a dent in your bank account.”
You’re flabbergasted. Ego? The fashion magazine that’s on billboards and commercials? That Ego?
After a couple checks through your bank account, and a triple check with a phone call and trip to the ATM, you’re sure the money is yours. It scares you, but also comforts you knowing that you’ve always been able to make it big.
You barely bat an eye as Jimin tugs you around the city with a familiarity that has you reeling. You struggle to remember the streets you pass and the signs that indicate what part of town you’re in, all whilst Jimin basks in the fruits of your labor. You don’t give a shit, obviously. It makes you happy seeing Jimin slowly melt and grow more comfortable throughout the day.
This is the kind of life you envisioned. One where comfort isn’t discarded for luxury, where the two cultures can marry. Jimin busts a gut when he sees you angrily shove your Free People dress deep in your shopping bags in favor of a black Adidas tracksuit that makes you feel like a soccer mom. Of course, he doesn’t know why you’re so aggressive with all your luxurious items, heck you even make him drive your Tesla, but nevertheless each passing hour brightens you up considerably.
When you two arrive at a fancy steakhouse with a dress code, the manager doesn’t hesitate to chide you and suggest the Applebee’s down the street.
You retort back that you’re an editor of Ego, and in seconds you’d have this restaurant swarmed with bad reviews. You know nothing about culinary review but you’re sure the manager doesn’t know that, and no arguments are placed after that.
The evening puts you in higher spirits, and you’re almost convinced that you’re a successful twenty-something catching up with your former best friend. You’ve always been mature for your age, high school can do that to a person, and it makes it vastly easier to keep up with the new decade.
“So,” you help Jimin get his bags up into his apartment. A little part of it feels like a bribe as you carry all the name brands on your arms, but you chalk it up to being compensation for the last ten years, “who are the people you hang out with now? Anyone I know?”
“Well, Taehyung sometimes drops by if he’s free. He’s traveling the world now, he actually works with you,” Jimin provides the information smoothly, “only he works in the international business column. But surprisingly, the person I hang out the most with is—”
“Jungkook.”
Standing face-to-face with your old high school sweetheart disarms you, and you’re sorely reminded that just you’re a seventeen-year-old in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body.
Jungkook looks tired, and he rubs his eyes a bit as if to make sure he isn’t dreaming. You in the flesh, looking purposeful and confident as you hold three bags on each arm, each piece probably costing more than his rent. He’s filled out, what once was lean muscle and minor definition has turned into full muscle mass hidden beneath a large t-shirt and sweatpants that are two sizes too big. His face is still sweet-looking and baby-like, but his hair is overgrown and waving in front of his eyes without a care in the world.
“Did I mention we’re neighbors?” you can practically hear the wince in Jimin’s voice, probably regretting that he hid that chunk of information from you.
Jungkook tastes his name on your lips, and it sounds foriegn and strange coming from the both of you. “Good to see you,” he says, voice low.
You barely formulate a response, replying with an equally nervous “right back at ya” and then you two resume staring at each other. While Jungkook hasn’t seen you in the last ten years, you saw him yesterday. Yesterday, where you started the day all peachy keen and it spiraled downhill shortly after. It’s jarring, knowing that your body doesn’t fit your conscience.
“Well I uh,” Jungkook lifts his indicator to leave, a large garbage bag, “bye.”
Jungkook shuffles out of the small hallway, and you get a whiff of his scent. It’s still the same, fabric softener mixed with his own musk.
“I,” you start off slow, “maybe I should go talk to him?”
“No,” he warns. “You and Jungkook are completely different people now, he’s just gonna think you’re pitying him if you go up and talk to him out of the blue.”
“But we’ve always been different people.”
“You really think that?” Jimin shakes his head, “I know what happened at prom was rough but, I really didn’t think much of your relationship with Jungkook before that. It seemed like you were pretty compatible—”
“Up until the point he was kissing Jennie in matching flowers on the balcony like some kind of romance film?” you scoff, crossing your arms, “right. Super compatible.”
Jimin sighs, as if he’s chastising a teenager. “Prom happened ten years ago, don’t act like it happened yesterday. People change.”
You frown, because in your mind it did happen yesterday.
Sleeping last night was hell. It’s one thing to be completely zonked out of your mind and unsure if you’re in a dream or weird coma, but knowing that you’re going to be stuck here for awhile is painful. Your loft is too big for your tiny body, your mattress cold and empty with just you in it. Without your parents to call and you feeling wholly insecure about your rekindling with Jimin, the only person you can really call is… Seokjin.
And you really don’t want a repeat of your first night.
So you suck it up, spend your waking hours in your office and quickly learning your tasks for work. You don’t even know what time you’re supposed to clock in, but from a sticky note attached to your MacBook it seems that you have a creative meeting at 10AM. You allow yourself two hours of sleep before you get moving.
The one exciting thing about your morning is that your outfit choices are virtually limitless. You feel like Cher in Clueless, all your outfits color-coordinated and organized by season. You pick out a springy Chanel number, a pale pink tweed skirt suit that has you feeling equally parts cute and an independent working woman. You even make time to buy yourself a coffee, because that’s what adults do right?
Your office is gorgeous. Also located in the upper part of the city, the glass desk and high windows fit right in. You have an ideas board filled with various designs, fabrics and models to choose from. There’s a little frilly notebook straight out of the 2000s, all filled with phone numbers and special contacts all at your disposal. You even have your own cold press coffee machine complete with a mini-fridge.
“You’re never this early, nervous for the meeting?”
You squeal, nearly dropping your coffee as you take a tour around your office. You fight the urge to gape and point accusingly at the woman standing at your door.
“Jennie?”
“In the flesh,” she gives you a cool smirk, holding her arms out for a hug. It really throws you for a loop, and you’re left stricken in your spot as Jennie closes the gap and squeezes the life out of you. Her grey pinstripe pantsuit crumples against your softer fabric. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Jennie and you are practically besties,” Jimin sounds a little jealous while saying that, forcing you to scroll through your Instagram page to see the countless selfies of you and your high school rival, “I mean, at least that’s what the internet says. Went to college in Europe together and everything.”
So it’s true. You awkwardly pat Jennie on the back, and she doesn’t seem to mind when she pulls away and tells you to meet upstairs. You mindlessly follow after her to the conference room, wishing a kind good morning to everyone that greets you.
Once you make it upstairs, you flinch at the loud screech of your voice. “My favorite editor!” someone in a plaid red suit runs up to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. The editor-in-chief Jung Hoseok smiles brightly at you, leading you to a seat at the head of the table right next to him. You’re cosy with the editor-in-chief? This is crazy!
“G-good morning Mr. Jung,” you stutter, trying to remain cool.
“Did something happen to you this weekend?” Hoseok jests, pinching your cheek like a long lost sister. “You always call me Hobi.”
“Oh,” you force a giggle, “you don’t even know how crazy this weekend was.”
Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.
“I’m so jealous,” Jennie sing-songs, a manicured finger trailing over the back of your chair, “only the best of the best can sit next to the big boss.”
The comment has you bristling. Are you really friends? Giving her a tight smile, she saunters to another corner of the meeting. On your section of the table is your itinerary and iPad, ready for note-taking.
“One thing that we do at Ego is consistency,” Hoseok pulls up a projection of this year’s editions, all carbon copies of the same cover. “And while that is admirable, I want to put my top editors to the test and come up with the theme for next month’s issue.”
Hoseok sends you yet another pearly white smile, and due to the sheer closeness you know that secret smile is only reserved for you. That makes you squirm in your seat, already feeling the pressure building in the pit of your stomach.
“Take two days off this week to plan. Work out the days you’ll be out of the office with HR, those days you’ll be working in the city, finding ideas and inspiration for the issue. Remember, think outside the box!” Hoseok does a little fist pump, cutting through the air like his life depends on it.
The whole lot of the group continues to stare at Hoseok, waiting for his next instructions. Then, the adults begin to panic, similar to a high school class that’s been told they have a pop quiz that’s worth half their grade. You sigh internally, you suppose high school never ends.
“C’mon,” Hoseok urges, flailing his arms around, “get out there! Make moves, make money!”
But the only moves you’ve made since 2PM are fleeting trips to the bathroom.
Obviously you don’t have any memory of your degree or experience, so instead of feeling like an editor you feel more like a teenager playing dress-up. You couldn’t even sneakily ask Jennie for help because she deadpanned: “I’m not sharing any secrets, doll.” It seems that being backhandedly mean is a theme in your relationship, so after that you rolled your eyes and locked your door. Thankfully you packed a pair of sweatpants so you can comfortably lie down on the floor while you spread out your workspace. Magazines littered the hardwood, all sultry and sexy looking models staring back at you with the same half-lidded stare and overdone makeup.
It makes you cringe, thinking back to the other day when you were jealous of these people. Now that you have this life, thriving and full of beauty, is that the only thing you want to show to your audience? How can they possibly relate to models who make triple their salary? What about the authenticity? The ingenuity?
And that’s when it hits you.
Scrambling to your computer, you search up a photographer that you know will be completely and utterly transparent.
My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment.
You know exactly what you want for next month’s issue.
Jungkook does not expect to see you through the peephole of his apartment, fiddling with the threads of your clothes and eyes glued to the ground. He mutters a curse under his breath, jamming his fingers between the metal double lock to swing his head out. He doesn’t even bother to open up all the way, just enough to stick his face out.
“Jungkook, hi!” he still can’t believe you’re around. Jungkook winces at your tone, high and sounding like a teenager. He thought by now you’d be traveling the world, climbing to bigger and better things. Then again, the upper part of the city is certainly an upgrade. He just thought you’d want to be far, far away from him. “I b-brought you McDonalds.”
You hold up a greasy bag of fast food, and his nose immediately responds to the smell of fresh fries and a quarter pounder (with cheese, of course.) It annoys him that you still know his weakness, but he isn’t going to go that easily.
“Why are you here?” he asks a little too sharply, hands gripping the doorknob.
“I wanted to offer you a job,” you get straight to the point, as if you know your time at his doorstep is limited.
He scoffs, “You? Want to put my photos on Ego? You know my business extends to weddings and the occasional Bar Mitzvah. Why would you want me?”
You frown, crossing your arms. He looks down at your attire, a nicely fitted suit on top, but the skirt is replaced with grey sweatpants. Comical, really. “I’ve always loved your photos,” you admit to him, “you know that. And they’ve gotten so much better since then.”
The furrow between Jungkook’s brows softens a fraction, smoothed by the honesty in your voice. You’re right, you always made sure to tell Jungkook how much you loved his other talents. Namely, the photography, and sometimes his singing. He can still remember how easily you slept in his arms watching Sky City for hours, all at the melody of your favorite song. While his teachers and classmates loved to venerate his position on the team and his ability to garner attention, you encouraged him to work on the things that mattered to him the most, even in secret.
Nevertheless, that was ten years ago.
“I don’t need your charity,” he spits, “Jimin might be able to be bought by some designer clothes and an eighty dollar steak, but not me.”
The pain in your gaze is glaringly evident, and you don’t even try to hide that you’re upset as the paper bag falls against your lap. If there’s one thing Jungkook knows he’s good at, is hurting your feelings.
“You think this is charity?” you whisper, hurt delicately lacing your voice.
“Are you kidding? Last month you got Xu Minghao to photograph your spread for Ego. He’s photographed the damn Queen of England,” if you notice that he’s babbling about reading your magazine, you don’t show it in your face, “the point is, I don’t understand why you’re trying to come into my life again. I don’t want to get involved in your fancy dinner galas or anyone else from high school. So please, just go back to your picture perfect life.”
And without another qualm he slams the door in your face, effectively shutting you out. It doesn’t feel as good as he wants it to feel, clearly. He feels even shitter than before. His eyes glaze over to his rickety coffee table, cluttered with bills and credit card payments that should’ve been dealt with a long time ago.
He slugs himself over to his couch, throwing his body over the couch that’s way too short. His legs dangle in mid-air, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunset. The bills can wait a little longer. Seeing you was too draining.
The nap turns into a full-fledged night’s sleep, and by the time he wakes up the sky is dark and it’s the start of a new day. 12:08, the screen of his iPhone confirms. Feeling even crustier and worse than before, his stomach decides to harden the blow and go straight for the gut. He’s sorely reminded of the food you offered him hours ago.
Quickly pulling on a large denim jacket, he grabs his keys and heads for the 7-Eleven down the park. Nothing like a frozen pizza to fill the gut, fast and cheap. Despite the fact that it’s dark and late, there're still some stray people in the park. A few homeless, some high school stoners who are meeting in secret, and you are typing away on your MacBook.
Wait, what?
You’re sitting on a bench in the park, typing away without a care in the world. Shoving soggy fries that he earlier refused in your mouth, you let a couple stray potatoes hang from your lips as your eyes succumb to the screen. You look positively silly, still in a pink blazer and baggy sweatpants.
He must have been staring a little too long, because soon enough you turn your head, gasping at his figure. You quickly avert your eyes, but don’t make any move to leave the park. That interests him further.
Shamelessly, he calls your name. His legs get to you in an instant, towering over your tiny figure.
“What are you doing here?”
“Uh, I’m waiting for Jimin,” your eyes flicker to your open laptop, “and working.”
At least one of those reasons is a lie. Last time he checked, Jimin always sleeps over at Yoongi’s house on this day. He knows it’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie, but neither of you make the effort to correct it.
“And what could you possibly be working on at 12AM?”
“Finding a photographer,” you hunch over your laptop, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have much time and none of my usual contacts are good enough. This project is… personal.”
It makes him want to ask further, he can’t lie and say he isn’t intrigued in the kind of vision you’re going for in your next issue. “But why can’t you work at home?”
“Don’t wanna go,” you reply casually, “it makes me feel lonely.”
Lonely? You feel lonely? He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the display of nonchalance. Back in high school he always encouraged you to feel confident, but not like this. “Hey, it’s nice that you feel comfortable enough to chill in the park at 12AM, but it’s really dumb. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten mugged from all that money you’re carrying around!” he gestures to your fancy clothes and laptop, “and if you feel so lonely, call up one of your rich friends I’m sure they’ll—”
“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you slam your laptop shut, darkening the two of you. “I thought you wanted me to go back to my ‘picture perfect life’, so why do you care?” you get up in his face, standing on the bench so you’re nearly eye-to-eye, “why don’t you pester those kids over there? Tell them to drink their milk and go home,” you scoff, shoving your stuff in your bag. You don’t spare him another glance as you stalk off in the other direction.
He groans, unable to untangle himself from the mess, “Where are you going?”
“To a park where you’re not in!”
Despite the exchange for sweatpants, you’re still wearing shoes not fit for walking. They’re little white pumps, not too tall but not remarkably comfy either. However, that doesn’t deter you from getting the heck out of there, seemingly walking in any possible direction to get away from Jungkook.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he chastises once his hand clasps around your hand, pulling you around.
There’s a little resistance, as you try to hide your face to no avail. Jungkook fumbles a little, not thinking you’d be crying. But tiny, shy tears are pooling around your eyes, looking flustered at your display of emotion.
“God,” you mutter to yourself, “I feel like such a kid.”
That strikes a chord in the twenty-something man. The last time he saw you in the flesh was when you were both kids. Young, unbridled, and stupid. Well, only Jungkook was the stupid one.
“Do you want me to take you home?” Jungkook offers, feeling guilty about his roughness.
You shake your head. “No, I told you I don’t want to.”
“Can I at least call you a cab? Or a friend so you won’t get lonely?”
“Jungkook, if I had that option would you think I’d be here right now?” he’s trying, he really is. But you’re equally as miffed about this whole situation and at a loss. The two of you engage in a staring contest. It only takes a few seconds for you to crumble, and he frowns when you shiver in your thin blazer.
Instantly, he rips off his jacket, pulling it over your body. It’s huge on you, swallowing your body and hopefully containing some of his residual heat.
And finally, he relents. “If you want, I’ll come over and stay until you fall asleep.”
“Okay,” your eyes widen in instant agreement, pulling something out of your pocket. “Will you drive?”
His eyes widen at the shiny, minimalistic car key. Your sudden one-eighty has him second guessing his decision. “You drive a Tesla?” he gapes, taking your key like he’s holding the Hope Diamond.
You got your license in February. One month ago, and only because the instructor felt pity on you since it was your second time retaking it. The fancy car terrifies you, and you’re sure Jungkook has much more experience driving (over ten years worth.)
You shrug, “Not very good at driving. Haven’t had much practice.”
“Um, the car drives itself?”
“It does?” you tilt your head, dazed, “wow, technology is amazing.”
He shakes his head, putting a hand on your back so you can lead the way. You must be tired, because it seems like your head isn’t entirely there anymore. He takes charge, buckles you in and takes a couple minutes to fumble with the car settings. Nevertheless the drive home is smooth (and it takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to not squeal in excitement when the Tesla does in fact, drive itself.)
You lead him inside your loft like a tiny zombie, throwing your shoes to one corner and throwing your jacket on the kitchen table.
“Must be hungry,” you can’t even form complete sentences, “there’s food in the fridge, Kook. Sorry if it’s not to your taste.”
Shuffling away to your room, Jungkook is left to gawk at your apartment. The baseboards of your walls are crusted in pretty pearl designs, swirling around the whole expanse. There’s a television that stretches the wall of the little living room, with a sound and video game system he’s only seen in movies. Your tables are meters and meters of granite, and he wonders how the floor of your apartment can hold all this weight.
But he supposes it’s because there’s nothing much to hold. No pictures line the walls, only vague looking art to fill up blank space. There’s no touch of warmth despite the heating system under the floor that relaxes his toes. For such a big home, he can only imagine how small you must feel in it.
Your fridge is just as empty, decorated with a couple of sad-looking salads and some protein shakes. He sighs, grabbing two chicken salads and a banana shake and bringing it to your coffee table. It’s a little two quiet for his liking, so he turns on the television real low just to make the room feel a bit fuller.
Halfway through one salad he realizes he probably should’ve made you eat as well. Even though these salads aren’t remotely filling, they’re much healthier than some soggy fries. A piece of limp lettuce hangs from Jungkook’s mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for soaking up all of your amenities without inviting you. After all, it is your house. Wiping some sauce from his lips he dusts off his pants, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he makes his way to your room.
Calling your name, the only reply is the whir of the heater. He only cracks the door a tad, but he sees you slumped against the edge of the bed, bare feet hanging from the end. You barely made it, your clothes strewn across the floor, an oversized t-shirt ruched across your barely covered thighs. Without a thought he quickly scrambles to move you closer to your pillows, and then wraps your body in your plush duvet. You’re out like a light.
You’re sleeping, so Jungkook should go home. That’s what you two agreed to. He goes back to his late dinner (early breakfast?) mindlessly listening to an infomercial on rare dollar coins. He’ll leave after he eats.
He didn’t leave.
Jungkook awakes to a scream, your shrill voice echoing all the way down the hallway into your living room. It takes a second for him to register the empty white walls and the fact that he’s not in his apartment, but eventually it goes back to the point that you’re in distress. He jolts, scrambling off the couch to run to your bedroom.
“What is it?” he exhales into your doorframe, socks sliding.
Your hair is in a disarray, shirt rumpled and face scrunched in pain. You shove your phone in his face. “Since when did Iron Man die!” you cry, genuinely horrified at whatever entertainment article you’re reading.
He slumps against the wall, running a hand over his dry face. “Since Endgame, obviously. That was literally two years ago. Is that why you woke me up?”
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”
“Have you been living under a rock or something?”
“Or something,” you frown, throwing your phone across your bed, “I guess I should go get ready for work.”
Jungkook watches as you shamelessly hop off your bed, uncaring that your shirt has ridden up, revealing the full expanse of your thighs and then some. You pull out a pair of sweats from a shopping bag, nicking off the tag to put them on your legs.
“Do you have work?” you ask casually.
“Uh, no,” Jungkook coughs, crossing his arms. It’s been awhile since he’s had a solid gig. Two whole weeks have been spent doing more personal work which was fine, but at the same time his bank account could beg to differ. “I’m off today.”
“Oh, alright,” you shrug, “do you know where I can buy a good camera?”
“Why?”
“Gonna go take pictures,” you snatch your wallet and keys from your bedside, stuffing it in a fanny pack. He watches you curiously as you zip your bag shut, muttering something about how you can’t believe that fanny packs are back in style. Swinging the strap over your back, you brush past him. “You can stay if you want,” you add pointedly, before you slip into the bathroom.
Jungkook doesn’t understand as to why he’s slipping into sensory overload. The house is a shell of itself and the antithesis of a rainbow. Maybe it’s the fact that he woke up ten minutes ago or how you look completely peaceful and want to leave as soon as you wake up. Or how shocked you were that Iron Man has passed and you’ve completely missed Phase 3. Or that you’re not even thinking about breakfast or not wishing him a farewell, practically throwing him into your apartment like a second home.
He wobbles back to the couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as he drapes the fuzzy blankets over his body. He flips through the channels, before finally settling on an old episode of Sky City.
When you walk out into the living room, you scrunch your face in pain when you make eye contact with Kim Seokjin’s on screen appearance. Oh, how things change. Jungkook knew how much you loved watching Sky City, indulging in the protagonist's attractiveness.
“Y’know,” Jungkook says over his shoulder, “if you leave me here, I could steal whatever I want.”
“Go ahead,” you reply flippantly, already slipping on your sneakers. “There’s nothing of value here.”
What is wrong with you?
“Wait!” Jungkook throws all his pride at the window, unable to conceal his worry for you. Half your body is out the doorway, and you’re looking at him like he’s grown a second head. His voice takes up the entirety of the room, startling you. “I need to come with you,” he finally settles on, looking serious. “You’re going to buy the wrong camera.”
“Okay,” you concede immediately, throwing the keys on the couch, “you drive.”
Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you.
You don’t know how to act around him. Your heart is hurt and your body is a decade older than it was a week ago and everything in your life and mind is a complete wreck. It still aches to look at him, despite the fact that you want him around, all the time. You wish you could know a little more about your adult life, you feel like a proverbial Bambi sitting in a car worth more than your childhood home. It’s a wobbly, shaky road to adulthood, and you’re not having it.
Jungkook sleeping over is the last thing you thought would happen last night. You didn’t even think he’d relent to coming to your house, since he was pretty hellbent on not being your photographer.
But now he’s driving your Tesla again, after you instructed him to park the car where you parked it last time. That way, you can go back to the playground you were in the night before. You have a vision for the issue and it starts there. Fiddling around with the expensive camera Jungkook picked out, you feel his gaze burning into your shoulder.
“Am I doing something wrong?” you ask archly, “I read the manual and everything. Or are you just being a perfectionist again?”
“What’s wrong with being a perfectionist?” Jungkook shoots back, putting the car in park. As soon as the car stills in the parking lot, he grabs the camera from your grasp like a petulant child. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break it. Face it, you’re terrible at technology.”
“Excuse me! I have a Samsung 25+ and a Tesla!”
“Yeah? So why did I catch you struggling to use your pay feature on your phone when we grabbed coffee?”
“It’s new,” you mutter under your breath. Everything is new to you.
With a growl you snatch back the camera, and Jungkook for once doesn’t act like a baby with a sharing complex and relents. Of course, Jungkook manages to calibrate the camera and figure out the color balance before you could. This only annoys you further, wondering why Jungkook is still sticking around after all this time.
“Alright,” you step out of the car, slinging the camera around your neck. “Thanks for driving me around, your apartment’s just down the street, right?” You dart your hand out, and Jungkook reluctantly hands over your key beeper. Maybe it’s because he seems to love the car so much, that he has a hard time giving it back. “I’ll see you around.”
“Wait,” is that his word of the day? Wait wait wait.
“What is it now, Jungkook?”
He’s never seen you so full of negative emotions. You’ve been waiting for him to tire of you all day, from your clipped replies and unease ever since you two stepped out of your apartment.
“Um,” he looks embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, “are you really going to take pictures? You always took really blurry pictures in high school.”
The mention of high school has you icy, gripping the matte black digital camera to hold your feelings at bay. “Yes, I’m going to go take pictures because the photographer I wanted so rudely rejected me,” you revel in the way he shrinks, probably regretful already. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline.”
He continues to follow you, all the way to the park. You make your way to a little garden, and start to take some test photos next to the little daisies that decorate the patch of dirt. You practically feel Jungkook breathing down your neck, feeling antsy everytime you click the shutter. Ignoring him is difficult, especially when he makes little noises of discomfort when you presumably do something wrong.
“Jungkook, are you going to say something?” you seethe, not caring that the heavy camera strains your neck when it falls against your chest, “or are you just going to make me wait.”
Jungkook’s face is scrunched up, and finally he blurts, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For saying your life is picture perfect,” he sputters quickly, looking very sweaty. Jungkook always got sweaty when he did things a little too hard. Playing sports, thinking, campaigning on video games. “I—I didn’t mean it. I don’t know. I guess I was just upset at myself and I took it out on you.”
“Well why are you upset at yourself?”
“I’m upset because I—I don’t know, it’s complicated,” he plops down on the nearest bench, and while you follow him, you don’t let yourself sit next to him. If you do, you know your subconscious will want to wrap your arms around him and comfort him. That would probably be the worst possible action to perform. “I don’t really do the whole photoshoot thing. Like I said, I’m just doing some weddings and parties here and there. I shouldn’t have said those things about Jimin and how you’re only talking to us out of charity. It’s my fault for not considering how complicated your life could be too,” he looks down at the ground, shameful, “so if you still want me, I would really like to photograph for Ego. And I would also really like that camera back.”
Unable to resist, you reach over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “I forgive you,” you reply numbly, thinking he was going to apologize for something else. You suppose he’s forgotten about that fateful prom night, just like everyone else. “It’s actually not for Ego, at least not yet. My boss is pitting us against each other, the best idea wins the cover theme.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll win,” his face eventually breaks into a grin when you remove the camera from your body. “Come to daddy, baby,” he cooes, holding the shiny new camera in his hands like a newborn.
“Gross,” you twitch, although you’re feeling all the more relieved knowing Jungkook will now be taking the visual reins. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the contract made up, but being paid five-hundred okay?”
“Five-hundred a week?”
“No, per day,” you correct, “why wouldn’t I pay you just like I pay the others?”
Jungkook’s dark brows fly to his forehead. He practically chokes on his spit at the way you put Jungkook in high regard. A blush overtakes his visage, proud and pink as he rushes to get away from you.
“You don’t even know my concept,” you called after him, chasing the midday sun.
Jungkook is already in position, fitting the lens between two buildings. The afternoon sun looks like an egg yolk, melting between the clouds. “Well then is it?” he asks, bending down on one knee to get the perfect angle.
“Well, yesterday when I thought of the idea I just wanted to be reminded of how easy being a kid was,” you don’t even know if Jungkook’s listening properly, given the rapid click click clicks of the shutter and Jungkook constantly moving around to get as many shots as possible. “I realized that not everyone can relate to the models or the clothes we advertise on Ego. Why would I want to see people I actually admire? Like, my friend’s older brother. Or Jimin, president of the drama club. Or even Jungkook, captain of the lacrosse team.”
“So, nostalgia. The 2000s are back in style, I like it,” he replies simply, tilting the camera towards you, “pose for me.”
“What? Jungkook,” you frown, holding a hand over your face. He doesn’t relent, continuing to snap you in different angles.
“Oh! That was a nice one,” he turns the camera to reveal the screen of your furrowed brows, hand over your face, “looks super grunge. Totally a throwback look.”
“Jungkook, I don’t model. I’m just the one who throws the ideas.”
“Yeah, but. Wouldn’t it be cool if the readers of Ego could see the genius behind the paper and ink?” he gestures vaguely to your outfit, “and you’re wearing Fila. So that’s like, kind of designer?”
“I don’t know,” you hug yourself, “I’ll think about it, okay? Let’s focus.”
“Fine,” Jungkook stops buzzing around you, putting the camera down and following you as you walk back to your car. You don’t think you really need anymore park photos, and Jungkook seems to telepathically agree as well.
“We need to plan some outfits and some backgrounds. I’ve already arranged a meet up tomorrow in front of our old high school with a couple of models. The school is on a grade-wide trip, so we’ll even have access to the track and field. I was also thinking disposable film? We could scan those.”
“Alright, who are your models?”
“Oh, you know. Just friends from school. I wanted it to be as authentic as possible. Taehyung flew back from Hamburg last night, so he said he’ll come. Jimin, obviously.”
“Well you only had like, two friends in highschool.”
“And you,” you clip on with a frown, “so don’t dress like a potato sack tomorrow, okay?”
“I’m not modeling.”
“Well, I’m still looking for a celebrity model to tack onto so. Don’t look like a chump.” you stick out your hand, while Jungkook pouts at your outstretched limb. If he feels sore that you called him a chump, he doesn’t comment on it when he clasps his larger hand in yours. “Partners?”
“Partners.”
“Why didn’t you tell me your celebrity model was him?”
“I specifically told you not to dress like a paper bag. Why did you continue to do so!”
“You didn’t specify that your model was Kim Seokjin!”
The current conversation is hushed, hissed between large reflective light panels and a parked car that held all your rented equipment. Currently, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jimin are huddled on the bleachers of your old stomping grounds, laughing at whatever funny video Seokjin has pulled up. They’re all dressed in variants of the same sweatsuit, a combination of Taehyung’s choosing since he’s one of the many color coordinators at Ego.
But you haven’t started yet, and you would like to get some morning shots in before it gets any warmer. Jungkook is still petulant, pretending to buy time by balancing his tripod. He’s wearing his Birkenstocks, so old they’re definitely the same pair from highschool, and yet another black sweatsuit.
“Seokjin’s like a big, fat cheeseball,” you assure Jungkook, who’s actually shaking from being in the presence of a celebrity. “No reason to be nervous.”
“That man has literally been part of our Sitcom Sundays for three years,” he gripes, “of course I’m nervous!”
“Just go to the car. If you want to change I’m sure Taehyung’s brought something that fits you.”
“Well if they see me change they’re gonna see I’m trying too hard,” Jungkook pouts, he actually pouts.
“I can’t,” you turn around, your Miss Frizzle-esque solar system dress whirling around your waist. The stars twinkle, glittering into Jungkook’s eyes. “Jungkook, do whatever you want. But we need to start in ten! No, five! I’m not paying you to try on Balenciaga and Off-Brand!”
If Jungkook is shocked by your sudden snippiness or need to get things wrapped up, he doesn’t say anything to it. For once, he’s quiet about his needs and you’re thankful for it. Once he’s gone, you have a chance to breathe. It’s all wholly overwhelming to dive right into the job. Your brain is still in 2011 unfortunately.
“Babe, everything alright?”
Seokjin appears behind you, having ditched Jimin and Taehyung after he saw you and Jungkook argue. He smooths his hands over your biceps. You’re still unsure over the exact nature of your adult-self’s relationship, but it seems that sans sex you two are relatively close with each other.
“M’fine,” you mumble tiredly, trying not to stiffen under his hold. You suppose Jimin isn’t going to be the friend you confide into this lifetime. “I’m just nervous. We’re doing all this work and it can potentially go down the drain after this week. What if my idea’s stupid and we’re wasting time? Jennie texted me that her concept is going to be killer and now I’m scared this concept is too aesthetically soft and people don’t care about nostalgia anymore and I feel like simultaneously throwing up and crying—”
“Whoa whoa, who’s replaced my confident editor and where did she go?” Seokjin decidedly goes with the notion that you’re definitely not fine. He swings his neck back and forth, peering behind the bleachers and over the football field. “My confident editor would never talk bad of herself like this! She commanded a whole crew of fifty within seconds when she did the Kim Taeyeon shoot in Milan! She never cowers under a challenge, the challenge cowers to her!” and in his gallancy you no longer try to shy away, in fact you even giggle at his silly way of comforting you. “And most importantly, she’d never compare herself to a wench like Jennie.”
Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to swipe the moisture right under your waterline, making sure any traces of your crying are undetectable. “W-wait,” you sputter, “you mean, me and Jennie aren’t actually friends?”
He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Even now, you’re such a good actress.”
You let Seokjin continue to hold you as the pieces in your empty mind come together. If Jennie is truly not your friend and you two have been faking it all this time, how serious is it? And if so, are you the competitive type? You know for sure Jennie is, and will she stop at nothing to make sure she gets the spread?
This fear is combined with an equal amount of sadness. You were a little excited to have a lasting friend from college, but your mother always told you to never believe anything on the internet. You suppose those selfies of you and Jennie on your Instagram are nothing but a facade.
But at the very least Seokjin’s care for you isn’t fake, and you’re thankful that you have at least one friend in this life. If you didn’t do this time skip, would Seokjin remain your only friend? You try not to think too hard about it, “Thanks, Seokjin. I really appreciate you.”
“Will you appreciate me tonight then?” Seokjin makes a move to kiss your neck, and the moment is promptly ruined.
Shoving him away you say firmly, “Touch me like that again and I’ll rip your dick off in front of this whole crew.”
“I love it when you get feisty,” Seokjin melts, but salutes you like a drill sergeant as he runs back to the men on the bleachers.
It’s then you feel a presence looming over your shoulder. Tall, dark, and emanating. He’s changed, in favor of some fitted jeans and a plain white shirt, paired with black boots. Jungkook is behind you, glaring over your shoulder at Seokjin. So much for showing off your professionalism. Crap, how much of that did he hear?
“Jungkook, I–”
“Let’s start,” he mutters gruffly, stepping past you to get to the equipment.
You slap a hand over your face. It’s going to be a long day.
However, the hours following are probably one of the brightest hours of your life since you’ve appeared in your future-self’s body. At first Jimin was anxious at your invitation, despite being in the high school plays and being okay at public speaking, he didn’t know he’d have the potential to be a model. A couple test shots and some coaching from Taehyung, Jimin is a natural, his photogenic energy strong enough to compete toe-to-toe with Seokjin.
You also have to hand it to Taehyung, who has been running back and forth between modeling and choosing outfits for the boys. Jimin and you didn’t run in the same group as Taehyung back in high school, but time changes things and if given the opportunity, you would’ve loved to be friends with him back then.
By the time you are done for the day and you feel like all the possible shots have all ready been taken, you circle around the school. You previously went inside empty classrooms, posed in the cafeteria, even pretended to reenact your school rendition of RENT in the auditorium.
Everything is mostly packed up and put into the car by the time the sun is setting, and you just wanted to perfect this one shot.
The gymnasium looks a lot smaller than it did as a child. As a teenager, you constantly feared getting hit in the face by a stray wiffleball, or throwing up during the pacer test after the 100th lap. But now, it just looks like an old gym.
“It smells like sweaty balls in there,” Taehyung curses, adjusting the patterned button down by smoothing down his chest. He jabs a finger in the boys locker room, where Jimin comes out with another new outfit.
“I think the sandwich I left in senior year is still there,” Jimin adds, pulling the collar around his burgundy knitted sweater.
The back of the gym is decorated in balloons. Overnight you managed to build a balloon ring off of Pinterest, one of your proudest moments as you made Jungkook haul the rainbow colored arc and shove it into the trunk. Seokjin is sitting directly under the arc, decorating a letter corkboard. It’s one of those cork boards all the teachers display in class, often decorated with some witty quote or a basic “Welcome to Mr/Mrs/Miss _____’s Class!”
Jungkook is setting up the camera on a tripod, wanting to do it the old fashioned way. Aside from the freakout he had in the beginning when he realized he was photographing Kim Seokjin, he’s been quiet and strictly professional throughout the whole ordeal. It’s amazing to see this side of him, as he seamlessly transitions from shoot to shoot knowing exactly what he has in mind for each photograph. His direction is soft but impactful, and the boys have no problems following directions.
“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!”
Working like this is a rush you can’t even imagine. In high school the path you were in the process of choosing wasn’t clear cut up until this point, but now you know exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life.
Seokjin holds the finished corkboard in the middle, a proud Class of Ego in white block letters.
Jungkook only gets a few shots in before Seokjin bemoans, letting the corkboard fall in his lap.
“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.”
Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—”
“Because you two aren’t in it!” Taehyung agrees easily, “c’mon, JK. Put your camera on timer mode and let’s have all of us in it!”
A blush melts on Jungkook’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “What? No, that’s silly Tae. I really don’t—agh!”
The three men are in a controlled frenzy, aiming to get their mission done. Seokjin rounds the camera and makes quick work of enabling a timer and a burst shot. Jimin pulls you by the waist, tugging you ungracefully to the center of the arc. Taehyung is doing a pretty good job of hauling your muscle hunk of a photographer, pressing his shoulders across yours.
And finally, Seokjin hands you the corkboard. “You should be holding it. After all, you’re the brains behind it!”
At first it feels awkward, squished between new friends and old friends. First loves and last loves. Despite his warm bicep pressing against you, Jungkook is akin to a sheet of cardboard, arm-to-arm and stiff as a board.
“Alright people, let’s move it!” Seokjin yells unnecessarily loud, the noise echoing throughout the high walls. “Last couple shots here, and we’re not re-doing it because I’m tired as hell! So look alive and pretend to like each other!”
The first click of the camera stuns all of you, akin to many terrible school photos where the flash disarms you and your face twists. But that click suddenly gets Jungkook into gear, and you feel him slide a hand over your shoulder, squeezing you toward him so you’re pressed against the side of his chest. He still smells like floral fabric softener, and that makes you smile.
And suddenly you feel like you’re seventeen again, surrounded with the people you care for the most.
“So, the tabloids are true huh?” Jimin smirks, waving a flimsy fry in your face.
“T-tabloids?” you sputter, dabbing the ketchup off your cheek. The greasy burger slips off your grip and onto your plate. Your expression says it all, it’s painfully innocent and genuinely confused as you attempt to swallow the cheese and lettuce as fast as possible.
The crew sans Seokjin is eating a very late dinner with you at the restaurant of their choice. They put it to a vote, while you desperately wanted some McDonalds everyone else voted for a more high end restaurant. After all, you’re paying.
“Ah, don’t try playing coy with us,” Taehyung jests, “the office talks.”
“Well, whatever you’ve heard isn’t true,” you huff, crossing your arms. “At least, not anymore.”
“What?” Taehyung bugs out, “I thought you loved your no strings attached relationship with Jinnie.”
“I guess I did,” you frown, deflating against the plush booth, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I liked back then.”
You resume eating your burger, trying to ignore the worried look Jimin sends you. He reaches over the table to press his thumb to the little 11s in your forehead, a product of stress. “Does your head still hurt?” he asks.
Jungkook’s chewing slows considerably. He’s been strangely quiet this evening, opting to order a handful of appetizers and gorging on every single edible thing on the table like a glutton. But at Jimin’s question he turns his head to look at you, “Why would your head still hurt?”
“She hit her head when she went out drinking with Seokjin last week,” Jimin supplies, “messed with her memory.”
“Chim,” you frown, gently shoving him off you, “I’m fine now. Pretty much caught up. Just reevaluating my life choices, okay?”
“How could Seokjin let that happen?” Jungkook asks, putting his fork down.
“He wasn’t even there,” you shake your head, trying to clear Seokjin’s name as fast as possible. After all, this lie is completely fabricated, a blanket to cover the magical properties your true nature being here has. “I’m fine, Jungkook. Don’t worry about me.”
He huffs, resuming his meal. “Wasn’t worried,” he disarms, reaching over the table to snatch a mozzarella stick.
You cover up your disgusted expression by wiping your chin with a soft blue napkin. Jungkook is really out here inhaling the whole table and being a bit of a jerk.
“Well,” Taehyung claps his hands together, regarding all of you with a closed-lipped smile stretched so wide you’re worried he’ll break. “This is nice. I can’t imagine a time where I’d be reunited with you three. It’s weird. But a good weird.”
“Ditto,” Jimin echoes, lifting his glass to clink with Taehyung’s. Throwing an arm over your shoulder he remarks, “could’ve never imagined my ‘ol best friend would’ve wanted to pursue fashion.”
“What?” you glower, pinching his thigh, “I love fashion! I spent months planning my Clueless Halloween costume and our summers cosplaying!”
“Right, Cher,” teased Jimin, “that yellow plaid suit that made you look like a bottle of mustard?”
“You little–”
Taehyung begins to laugh when you start to tickle Jimin in the sweet spots, causing Jimin to curl his leg around your ankle and pull you onto his lap for a hair pull. It’s all in fun and nothing hurts, but you’re so caught up in it you’re sure people are worried about your well-being. Even Jungkook is laughing, egging Jimin on while Taehyung weakly attempts to pull you away.
If you could rewrite the last ten years of your life, this moment would define the remake.
“Why are we here?”
“For research purposes.”
“Are you sure the actual purpose is because you don’t feel like working in the office?”
“Jungkook,” you groan, tired of his infinite amount of negativity. “This was our senior trip! Of course I want to get a couple shots in before my big presentation.”
“You’re risking my baby’s life,” Jungkook cradles the digital camera closer to his chest, swaddling it between its felt case. Ever since you purchased the camera, Jungkook has been unable to let it go. This adoption is both equal parts cute and strange, and you’re a little too scared to ask for it back.
“I promise, no big rides,” you roll your eyes, “your baby will be fine.”
The local amusement park is a fan-favorite amongst the city-goers, a reprieve from the hustle and a chance for you to spend your copious amounts of money on overpriced sugar and popcorn. The last time you went here was two weeks ago—in your mind. In Jungkook’s mind it was over ten years ago and he probably doesn’t even remember the time spent roaming the artificial floor and the infinite amount of bubbles that seem to eject from the air to add to the whimsical charm.
Jungkook isn’t even paying attention, citing it as an artist block because he’s going through sensory overload with the amount of stimuli in the crowd. Screaming teenagers wailing under him from a nearby rollercoaster, the smell of sticky caramel apples pumping through the diffuser stands, and the amount of gaudy color that decorates every single logo of the park.
He plops himself down on a nearby bench while you wait in line to get some food. It’s early in the morning and a weekday, so you figure this is the best time to get some photographs in without any passerbys. You figure Jungkook will get the hang of it once he has some food in his stomach.
“A funnel cake?” Jungkook is bewildered when you return with the confection in hand, “it’s ten A.M.”
You raise a brow, knowing how much Jungkook loves sweet foods. The funnel cake especially, he ate at least three when you went to your senior trip, one for every meal. But you’re an adult, or at least posing as one, and you shrug loftily, plucking a hot piece of fried dough from your plate. “Alright then,” you reply, “I’ll just eat the whole thing.”
Once the cake touches your tongue, you can’t help but make an exaggerated moan in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook squirming like an earthworm next to you, either from the scrumptious smell of funnel cake or the way you’re so enthusiastically eating it.
“W-wait,” Jungkook’s stomach growls at the perfect moment, “I want some. But I don’t want to get the camera dirty, pass me a napkin.”
“I can just feed it to you!” you quip innocently, immediately ripping off a piece and shoving it between Jungkook’s pink lips. You feel a little slick in the finger, saliva briefly coating your digits before you pull away. You swallow, feeling a familiar tingle in your tummy and a sickening heat low in your belly.
You fight back a sigh, wondering if your libido also did a massive growth spurt in your twenty-seven years of age.
Jungkook is placated at the touch of food, and you take turns feeding yourself and feeding him while more customers trickle in the park. Confectioners sugar dusts Jungkook’s long-sleeved tee, the white color staining the dark fabric. You reach to pat his chest, ignoring the toneness that still remains from high school.
“Alright, let’s ride,” you declare, pulling Jungkook up once you’re done eating.
“Do we have to?”
“What happened to the adrenaline junkie I once knew?”
“He realized being an adrenaline junkie doesn’t make money and he should stay on the ground.”
“Alright, Negative Nancy,” your reply has no bite to it, and suddenly you wished you invited Jimin or Seokjin before Jungkook. Jungkook may have the talent, but he certainly doesn’t have the attitude. You don’t even get why he’s still defensive, after all you thought he apologized in the beginning. It’s not like you’re the problem.
“Gimmie your hand,” your thoughts cut out when Jungkook offers his large hand in front of yours, palm up.
“Why?”
“C’mon,” he whines, settling for snatching your hand instead. His palms feel larger, rougher as they enclose your smaller hand. “Now hurry up and walk in front of me. I’m gonna take a picture.”
You already have a feeling as to what this picture is going to look like, so you scrunch your nose. “That is so cheesy.”
“It’s for the nostalgia factor, now hurry up and pretend we’re on a date.”
You roll your eyes but relent, jogging a few steps ahead so you can get into character. This pose used to be a popular one, where the sweet boyfriend would be dragged around by the girlfriend’s hand, tugging him to wherever she wanted to go. It’s super cliche but if Jungkook figures it’ll fit your theme, you’ll do it. Eventually you forget that you’re holding his hand, and point ahead to some rides you want to try out.
“Oh, Jungkook! Remember that one?” you point to a teacup ride, with guests spinning vigorously through their own seat. “Jimin got so sick he fell asleep in the car for an hour!”
Jungkook doesn’t reply, so you turn around and face him. Click. Jungkook smirks at his little trick, which makes you rip your hand from his and walk further.
“Hey, hey,” he chuckles, the first smile of the day. Food really does make him peaceful. “The shot looks good, you look good.”
“Could’ve just asked me to turn around and pose,” you huff.
“Then it would ruin the fun,” he replies, “now c’mon, let’s ride the teacups. For old time’s sake.”
Ten minutes later and the both of you are soon regretting that decision. You’re once again slumped on the bench, this time unable to keep your head up so you rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder while he leans on your head.
“Haven’t rode that since I was a teenager,” Jungkook moans, holding his stomach. “Remind me not to eat so fast before getting on that kind of ride.”
You mirror his expression, feeling green. “Is this what late-adult life feels like?”
“Yep,” Jungkook replies, unbeknownst of how shocked you are at how weak your body has become. “You wake up with back pain, pre-arthritis from all the typing you’ve done over the last decade, and a lot of stress. Definitely not the fantasy you’d imagine from your 20s.”
“You think you’d be less stressed if you kept your lacrosse scholarship?”
“Nah, I think I saved myself,” Jungkook shakes his head, “before I could be any more awful than I already was.”
You refuse that notion, sending him a bitter smile. “Well, look at me. I became awful right after high school.”
“I didn’t mean you—”
“I know,” you hold up a hand to stop him. The two of you follow a red path up the hill, leading to a simple cable car ride. It’s a slow travel ride, made to get from one side of the park to the other with a beautiful view over the lake. “But you see those tabloid articles. They must be true.”
“I—I didn’t think they were all true,” Jungkook’s lying through his teeth to make you feel better, but you don’t care. “Why do you sound unsure?”
You shrug, “Probably wasn’t sober for most of my bad decisions,” considering your friendship with Seokjin and his boisterous drinking attitude, you wouldn’t be surprised, “If they weren’t true, I believe Jimin and I would’ve stayed friends. I can’t imagine why I left my home like that. But I guess it doesn’t matter too much because I came back. And I mean, we’re here together doing work,” you gesture between the small space between each other, “I think that counts for something.”
The two of you walk in silence for a bit, contemplating. The line to the cable car isn’t long but it’s slow, considering the cable only moves a couple meters a second. The take-off area is a risen slab of concrete, and the cars are continuously moving so you have to hop on one car as soon as another guest exits.
There’s a little bit of space between it, a centimeter gap that could be nerve wracking if there’s no staff around. You think nothing of it as you fiddle on your phone, waiting for the staff member to let you and Jungkook in on the next car.
Jungkook enters first, taking great care to cradle the camera in one hand so it doesn’t sway against the car. The car swings a little as well, and Jungkook holds out a hand for you to grab.
Instead you focus on how the once bright glassy pink is sun-ravished, faded and rusting on the metal door flaps. The color is almost pearlescent, vastly different than the vivid color you saw two weeks ago. You almost want to reach out and touch it, wondering where that quality went.
“Bun, be careful!”
The tip of your heel nicks on the stepping stone, slipping like butter as you topple forward. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hauling you into the car just as the metal door locks into place. The hard plastic of the camera digs into your chest uncomfortably as you plop on top of Jungkook, between his legs as half his thighs rest against the uncomfortable seat.
“Were you not watching where you were going?” Jungkook huffs, blowing his bangs over his forehead.
Instead of an artful answer you blurt, “You, you called me Bun.”
His eyes widen at your response, and his grip loosens around your body. His eyes dart anywhere but your face, his cheeks ruddied and stained coral as he moves to remove you from his body. “It was a slip of the tongue,” he coughs, turning on his camera and getting shots of the lake.
You huff in response, sticking to your side of the carriage. “I missed it,” you murmur to the wind, although you make yourself loud enough for him to hear.
You try to bury your sour expression in your sleeves, just to hide how absolutely childish you feel. You don’t even care that Jungkook is trying to take pictures of you looking out the view, only trying to eradicate the feelings that are still down deep in your blood. Even the twenty-seven year old Jungkook is charming, albeit in a completely different way.
The grown, mature Jungkook toots to his own horn. He isn’t concerned about a team or an image, and gave it all up to pursue an art he loves. The lacrosse jerseys exchanged for bulky long sleeves, the sport for a camera, and a mask for his true image.
“Let’s go,” Jungkook takes your hand again when the ride stops, not letting go until you’re on steady ground. You figure he must think you walk like a toddler barely on her first mile.
Would Jungkook like you even as an adult? With all this money, this power and this confidence you envisioned as a seventeen-year-old, it still doesn’t feel enough for him. In fact, you feel like a sore thumb sticking out, decorated in silly rumors and expensive clothes that separate you far from your roots.
“Hey,” Jungkook touches your arm, pointing to a basketball carnival game, “remember this one?”
“Yeah,” forcing a smile, you follow him to the small crowd that starts to form around the basketball game. The baskets are a short distance from the player, but so high up that it’s hard to tell the shape of the hoop. “I tried to tell you that it was completely rigged. From an angle you can see it’s still oval-shaped.”
“And I told you it didn’t matter if the hoop was an octagon, I’d get you that prize,” he jerks a thumb to the prize booth, where a blue Piplup plush sits proudly with all the other starter Pokemon. “And I did.”
“It’s still in my room,” you reply proudly, even though Jungkook is acting almost immaturely smug. “I, I mean it’s still in my room in my parent’s house. It’s probably lonely because my parents have been on a cruise for almost two weeks.”
He raises a brow, eyes drifting to the booth. “Should I win another one to keep your bed in the city warm?”
“That sounded oddly sexual.”
“You know what I mean,” and Jungkook’s rolling up his sleeves, handing you the camera.
“Jungkook,” you whine when he pulls out a roll of bills from his pocket, as if he prepared for this moment, “Jungkook c’mon—I don’t need any stuffed animals. Ugh.”
You swear that the majority of your day is spent watching Jungkook blow cash on a low-quality stuffed animal with packaging pellets for the inside. Turns out carnival technology has also enhanced over the years, and it takes both your whining and the clerk’s whining to stop Jungkook from blowing his entire wallet to get one basket in. Eventually the staff relents and lets Jungkook take a Piplup keychain instead, glumly handing it over to you.
“I like this better,” you chirp, clipping the ring onto your car keys, “now I can bring Piplup everywhere.”
A small, barely there smile appears on Jungkook’s face.
The rest of the day melts away like that, and before you know it the sun is slipping into the horizon and you’re being dropped off at your apartment. Jungkook even insists to walk you to your door, because your prizes are heavy. (Yes, he went back for the oversized Piplup.)
It’s all too familiar, the way the walk upstairs is achingly slow, as if the moment is stretching itself down the hallway. How Jungkook looks so prideful holding the fruits of his labor, following you with a tug of your hand because the prize is too big for Jungkook to see straight.
At the same time it’s different. The way you wobble around the hallway because you’re a little tipsy from wine flights is noticeable, even cute. How easy it is to not feel nervous when you clutch at his hand. How you two look like a seasoned couple, coming home from an all-day date.
It ends at the front door, and you crack it open so you can slip your prizes through the crack.
“Thanks, Jungkook,” you hold up the SD card that held all the precious memories of this week.
This is where you part ways. You’ll spend the rest of the night editing your presentation, while Jungkook promised to go to a bar with his friends. A little part of you hoped you’d be invited, but you knew that would be impractical considering you have work in the morning.
“Break a leg,” he says, leaning on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets, “you’ll do great. You’ve always been meant to do great things.”
The investment he lays on you is insurmountable, and you feel yourself flush with simultaneous excitement and anxiety. Unknowing how to calm your nerves, you give him a small “thank you” and put your hand on the knob to slip away.
“Wait—”
You blink, a deer in the headlights as Jungkook swoops down and kisses you.
You’ve received kisses—kisses reserved for a twenty-seven year old, before. Seokjin is an eager lover, and you felt it that fateful morning and even during your photoshoot when he tried to be sneaky and pull you away. Fleeting bites, kisses to the neck that are wet and hot.
Jungkook’s kiss does not feel like that. It feels like home. It feels like coming home after a long day of work, wrapping yourself in an old afghan and a hot cup of tea. The feeling of hot laundry, fresh front the dryer and smelling of floral softener. It tastes like ten years lost in a void, returning to your senses and lighting you up.
He holds you as if you’ll disappear right in front of him. Large hands cup your face, like a precious thing he never wants to let go. Your hands can do nothing but grapple after his, nails digging into his skin.
“Good night, Jungkook,” you send him a lovestruck smile, a puppy love face.
“Good bye, Bun,” he replies simply, jogging down the hallway.
Being twenty-seven starts to feel a little more like heaven.
Jennie used to annoy you in high school, but now she just down right scares you.
Her presentation is one straight out of a thriller, with red shadow lights and neon green splattered in the dark room. Her models are intense, her designs are beautiful but overwhelmingly chaotic, and the whole affair is rather grotesque. The headline Fashion Suicide glares at you in a morbid scarlet font.
Hoseok sends her a tight-lipped smile, and presses a button on his desk. “I need my antacids, Krystal,” Hoseok deadpans.
Nothing betrays Jennie’s wicked expression, in fact her smirk widens at Hoseok’s fear.
You on the other hand, are cool as a cucumber when you walk up to the front of the conference room. In fact, you barely have to say anything as the presentation presents itself. Jungkook took the liberty of making a video compilation for you, one that they could use in YouTube and Instagram promotions.
“This, is preserving our youth,” you declare proudly, letting the video play. The music that accompanies it is very coming-of-age, like a yearbook slideshow of all the pictures you took. Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin hold their arms around each other in matching attire, looking like friends for life. There’s even some videos of you and Jungkook at the park, playfully arguing at each other. “I’m tired of seeing people who could care less about my life, who I can’t relate to.”
“This issue is for the unsung heroes—my best friend’s older sibling, the captain of the football team, and the black sheep with a dream.”
The video cuts to Jungkook, looking ultra cool at the camera while he’s dictating Seokjin’s moves. It was taken on your phone, and you’re zooming in on Jungkook’s serious face before it breaks into a laugh, eyes crinkling and bunny teeth showing at whatever stupid thing Seokjin said.
And finally, the video fades into a mock cover. The five of you are beaming at the camera, cheek-to-cheek as you hold up the placard: Ego: Class of Youth.
Needless to say, the issue is yours.
You ignore Jennie’s icy stare as you leave the room to negotiate with the creative teams on a set schedule. However, it seems that you can’t get a bit of rest when Jennie waits for you in your office.
“Jennie, get off of my desk,” you frown, watching a coffin-tipped nail flicking against a photograph of you holding hands with Jungkook in the amusement park. It hangs on a corkboard, standing up with all the other ideas that you and Jungkook have spent the last week meticulously planning.The black enamel scratches at your smiling face. You are not having this, not after all your hard work and all the meetings that have just been planned.
Her feet dangle in the air, kicking back and forth as she sings your name. “You’re still such a child,” she sighs dramatically. “In fact, I think your cute little-wittle idea would suit something more like Highlights or Disney Monthly.”
“You’re just upset I did better than you,” you cross your arms.
Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half.
“You’re right,” Jennie turns a 180 and gives you a bright, candy-coated smile. “Your idea is so good, it doesn’t suit Ego. In fact, I’m sure the editors at Mono will pay a pretty penny.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ugh, you are such a fake.” Jennie giggles, “now, did you send this idea to Namjoon yet? Their publishing date is two weeks before ours, so I’m sure they’re getting to work on this whole Throwback Thursday spread.”
You can’t believe the words coming from Jennie’s mouth. Before all of this, just how awful of a person were you? How could you sabotage your company on the regular, just to get paid a little extra dough for a rival company? It makes you think about what could’ve possibly changed. Had leaving your friends without a care in the world made you into this lost adult, grappling at the seams for attention? In college, did Jennie coerce you into being manipulative and backstabbing, and because without Jimin and needing confidence in a friend, you reluctantly agreed?
The coffee from this morning starts to back up in your throat, but you immediately tamp it down. No, you can’t be pushed around like this. You can’t keep pushing people around. You don’t want a life like this, and if you ever return to your old life, you’ll damn make sure you’ll create a future without Jennie in the picture.
“I’m not going to send anything to Mono, and I’ve already fessed up to Hoseok,” you lift your nose in the air, voice impeccably clear for someone who’s absolutely bluffing. But Jennie’s face hits the ground, immediately buying your lie. You suppose you did become a good actress after ten years. Maybe Seokjin taught you a few pointers. “So if I were you, I’d swallow your tongue before words get around. I worked it out but don’t be surprised if a pink slip comes your way.”
Turns out that no matter what, high school never ends. There will always be backstabbers and freaks and geeks. A mean girl that you subconsciously try so hard to appease, a grade that defines your life, and drama up to the neck.
“He doesn’t like you, y’know,” Jennie whispers, but the words are loud and clear and you know exactly who she’s talking about. “Never had, and never will.”
“You’re wrong,” you hold your hands, clasping them together to keep them from trembling, “he likes me.”
So you leave the office, determined to prove yourself. That kiss last night was nothing short of magical, and it took a lot of strength for you to not drive up to Jungkook’s apartment in the morning in the hopes for another one. You pick up a pizza near his place, filling it up with your favorite toppings on one half and his favorites on his. A bottle of peach champagne is nestled between your arms. In the bathroom while waiting for your pizza, you’ve wriggled out of your tight suit and into a blue hoodie and bicycle shorts. Tonight, you’re celebrating.
You’re vibrating as you’re knocking eagerly on his front door, excited to tell him the news. You hear a rustle from the couch, and some blankets shifting about. He must’ve passed out after going to the bar, how cute.
But when the door opens, the vision in front of you is far from cute.
A woman, with cat eyes and a slim figure, tilts her head at you. She’s dressed in a large white shirt, transparent enough to show her lacy black bra and panties. Bruises decorate her neck and thighs, like red and purple gems. Her long black hair swishes, slightly frizzy at the bottom.
“Can I help you?” her voice is sultry and velvety. “Are you looking for JK?”
It’s obvious as to what transpired. Jungkook dipped after kissing you and fucked another woman. A woman who’s the complete opposite of you. Someone flirty and sexy and willing to give Jungkook what he wants. You don’t know who you should be mad at.
“Who’s at the door?” Jungkook calls from the inside, and you nearly drop your bottle at the sound of the rasp. They must’ve had a fuckfest if they’re just waking up now.
Your cheeks are burning. Your heart is aching. And the vile that bubbled up from Jennie’s tirade is now resurfacing. From the way your eyes are watering, you must look like a crybaby.
“Say, JK,” the woman closes the frame tighter around her small head, preventing you from seeing inside and for Jungkook to peer, “do you have any pathetic ex-girlfriends?”
“No,” comes the muffled reply, “come back to bed, it’s getting cold without you,” the pizza starts to burn uncomfortably against your grip, “why the random question?”
“Dunno, seems like you’ve had at least one.”
At that moment, your savior appears in grey jeans and a beige hoodie. Jimin walks up to the floor, clutching a bag of groceries. It’s not hard to put two and two together as he spots you looking incredibly small in front of the strange woman, trying so hard not to break down.
Your tears finally fall when Jimin reaches you. “Wrong room,” you mutter under your breath, quickly following your old best friend when he shoves you in his apartment.
No words need to be explained when Jimin leaves the groceries on the coffee table and he’s pulling you onto his lap. You clutch him like a koala, rubbing mascara and blush all over his clothes as you sob. He pats your back and soothes your hiccups by offering you a glass of water. The stages of your meltdowns are pretty cut and dry, even after ten years. He still encourages you to finish the whole glass. He makes sure you have something to eat. He cuts your pizza into little bite sized pieces and feeds you. He doesn’t pressure you to talk until you’re ready, although he has a hunch as to what’s going on.
And when you talk, he doesn’t expect a firm, “Take me home,” from you.
“O-okay,” Jimin agrees immediately, pulling you into a sitting position. “Uptown, right? We can call an Uber or something and order from a restaurant.”
“No,” you reply firmly, “Home-home. I want to go back to my parent’s house.”
“That’s fine too,” he squeezes your shoulder, accepting the fob you hold out to him, “it’ll take about an hour, but I think the drive will be nice.”
So you two sneak off into the sunset, clutching twin slices of pizza as you roll away into your Tesla. Jimin is right, ten minutes into the drive and you’re soothed by his smooth driving and the scent of fried cheese and dough. Your friend has been calm all this time, so you figure this is the right time for him to pop off. Again, this is also part of your breakdown routine.
“Say, does this thing do calls?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the settings on your steering wheel, “Tesla, call Jeon Jungkook.”
“Jimin,” you say weakly, although the little malicious side of you wants to goad him on. You don’t bother to fight the best friend territorialism, you just watch as his hands clutch at the steering wheel as the speakers ring.
Jungkook picks up on the second ring, “Hey!” he says brightly, and it makes your chest pang to know how oblivious he is, “how did the presentation go?”
“Fuck you, Jungkook!” you cover your free hand on your ear at Jimin’s shrill yell, louder than the speakers that carry Jungkook’s voice. “Fuck you for breaking my best friend’s heart twice!”
The silence is deafening. It’s scary, like you could slash a butter knife right through the tension.
Jimin continues, “I can understand high school because you were a real doofus, but this! You fucking lead my best friend on, only to fuck another girl right under her nose! She came all the way to your apartment from a long-ass day at work to celebrate and you ruin that day! I thought you’ve grown for the better but turns out nothing has changed since prom night. You’re still the stupid, confused little boy that doesn’t want to admit how they really feel,” you gasp at the blow, watching Jimin’s gritted teeth as he zooms down the freeway on a mission. “Good fucking riddance, Jeon!”
Jimin punches the “hang up” button. A couple seconds of heavy breathing, and he turns to you with a gentle smile.
“So, you want to listen to Taylor Swift’s new album?”
Your room is lost in time. The Hunger Games novels are stacked on your shelf, looking old and worn. A Glee poster hangs over your four-poster bed, the yellow and red faded and the corners hanging by a thread from the old tape. The sheets are a pale pink, ruffly and definitely not in style anymore. When you sit on it, it creaks uncomfortably.
You hug yourself, tucking your knees in as Jimin marvels at the room with an equal amount of awe.
“If you could, would you go back to high school?” Jimin asks, sitting at the edge of your bed.
With a lazy shrug, you smile at your collection of polaroids that are hanging above your vanity. You’re still hurt, but the pain is no longer rolling in waves. “Maybe,” you reply, “probably would’ve taken you to Europe with me.”
He chuckles, “Is that the only thing you would change?”
“If I knew what I knew now?” you tilt your head, “I don’t know.”
Jimin gets off your bed, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I’m gonna raid the kitchen and see if we can make something for dinner, yeah? Since your parents are on vacation and your fridge is probably empty, don’t judge me if there’s only Totino’s pizza rolls and nuggets in the freezer.”
When Jimin leaves your room, you quietly close the door and lock it. You lean against the cracked wooden door, falling onto the carpet and letting the tears fall. Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? Evading pain and working too hard and trying everyday to stay afloat? Is adult life always going to be this difficult?
These past two weeks have been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Major highs and major lows, and after today you thought you reached the end of the ride. However, it’s looking like the ride has no destination in mind, rolling in waves and finding a new hill or loop to catch you off-guard.
“Are you kidding—how did you know we were here?” Another corkscrew.
“You’re a turtle on the road, Jimin. Now move out of the way.”
Jungkook’s voice startles you, and you tense when you see the gold door knob jiggle. Of course as strong as Jimin is, he’s no match for Jungkook. You hear Jimin grumble to curse Jungkook out, and the sound of him stomping down the stairs.
“Hey, open up. Please,” Jungkook’s voice is weak and strained, and you only hug yourself tighter as the knocks continue. “Or, don’t. It seems like you can listen to me perfectly from here. I can hear your breathing.”
You don’t say a peep, preferring to let everything fizzle out. Hopefully Jungkook will give up, say a pathetic sorry and be on his merry way. You don’t know why he’s followed you all the way over here, why would he bother coming when the damage is already done.
There’s a slide of fabric across wood, and you can feel the door shake against your back as Jungkook leans on his side out in the hallway.
“Back in high school, Jennie proposed that I date you to get back at you for stealing Jennie’s sewing sample and getting the higher grade,” you close your eyes, letting the story unravel. “She wanted to build you up before breaking you down, and back then I was vulnerable and thrived on attention, so I thought nothing of it.”
You hear a breathy exhale from his side, as if it pains him to continue, “But obviously, it wasn’t true and I only realized it until I was way too deep. I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you. We were so wrapped up in this relationship I even convinced myself it was real, until Jennie said she’d crush you at prom night.
“I should’ve tried harder to convince us not to go. I should’ve told Jennie to fuck off. I should’ve come clean. I should’ve done something,” his fist bangs against your door, the vibrations of the impact thrumming in your back, “seeing you so beautiful in that dress all heartbroken because I didn’t act sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Hearing him pour his heart out is like watching your memories in his shoes. The pieces find homes and paint a picture left unfinished.
“And then when you showed up at my doorstep, I was so angry. I knew you felt it. But I wasn’t upset at you, I was upset at myself. I felt so fucking guilty. I hated how easy it was for you to let me back into your life. I hated how easy it was to fall for you all over again. I knew how much I didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it to me and I was too selfish to refuse. I had so much fun, the most fun I’ve had in awhile.
“I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t intend for it to I just, I couldn’t help myself. And then I was so scared that I turned away and made the second biggest regret to date.
“But it proves that we’re not meant to be together. I don’t deserve you,” the last part is hushed, a nail in the coffin, “we can’t turn back the time, but if I could I would change it all. I would be by your side and make your world even better than it is right now. I’m sorry it’s too late.”
You clutch your mouth, suppressing the cries that muffle through the door. You hear Jungkook get up from your old carpet, turn the other way and head downstairs.
Your first love just closed the chapter for you. His words show how much he cared for you, but didn’t know how to express it. How immature he was, how he realized everything too late. And now, he wants to set you free. Even if it is a good thing, it still tears you to shreds.
Moving to your vanity, you pull out the chair and lean your head on the table, eyes poking through your hair. You look awful. The skin under your waterline is puffy and your eyes are red and bloodshot. Your forearms feel greasy, and you lift them up to reveal glitter painting the entirety of your skin. Your eyes dart to the open glitter, the package that Jimin gifted to you that fateful prom night. The compact is broken in half and left on the table, probably a product of your younger cousins fiddling through your old room.
Ignoring the sticky feeling, you let yourself continue to cry. You feel like you’re stuck in the bathroom of the prom venue, waiting for an opportunity to sneak out and go.
But you want nothing more than to go back to that moment. As amazing as your twenty-seven year old life is, you’re not ready for it. You don’t want a life without Jungkook, or a life having to constantly catch up and mend your relationship with Jimin. You don’t want to be the backstabbing bitch that tips off other magazines, or the two-faced woman who messes around with others for the sake of pleasure.
You long to go back. You long to live and grow. To be seventeen and have time to grow in-between.
When you lift your head from your vanity, you’re ten years younger.
You scream.
Your parents dash to your room with a kitchen knife and a confused face. With a wary smile and a teary gaze you say that it’s only a pimple. Your mother giggles and drops the knife, hugging you and helping you conceal the invisible mark. The hug is so warm and so missed that you nearly sigh in content. You’ve missed them.
It’s a little strange to think well beyond your years, your brain still reeling from the trip you’ve just had. Your hands smooth over your body, the previous curves and maturity hidden away in your skin. That’s okay, you don’t mind waiting anymore. There’s much more important things at hand.
If Jungkook isn’t going to realize his mistakes until it’s too late, you have to speed up the process.
Stealing your parent’s keys and hopping in your Accord, you drive off to Jungkook’s. Hair and makeup not done, and still in your plain shirt and jeans. An hour from now, Jungkook will text you saying his car is down and he’ll meet you at the venue.
It’s still rush hour, so he doesn’t notice when you park a few houses down. He’s sitting on his front porch, looking out the road. There’s really nothing in front of him, he’s just staring aimlessly, probably nervous about what’s about to go down tonight. You suppress a sigh, engraving the vision to memory. He looks great in his fitted black suit and tie, a little silver pocket square on the breast to match your dress.
He gets up quickly when he sees you, as if caught in the act. Staring at your plain clothes he asks, “Bun, why aren’t you dressed? Prom’s soon—”
“Jungkook, I want to break up.”
You see it in his eyes. Vulnerability. No longer do you feel insecure, the future told you that Jungkook genuinely did care for you back then. Or in this case, right now. His usual cheery expression crumples at your feet, and his hands fall at his sides. It feels a little unfair, knowing that you have experience under your belt, and Jungkook’s experiencing these feelings for the first time, unprepared.
“What?” he wilts, “why?”
“I know about Jennie’s plan,” you say instantly, unfazed. You give him a tight-lipped smile when realization hits his face. “So I know this whole relationship is orchestrated. The sewing sample fiasco is wrong, obviously. But I’m not going to get mad at you, I know she played you as much as she played me,” you clasp the straps of your purse, stopping you from fidgeting, “we graduate in a few months anyway. We don’t have to see or talk about this ever again. You should go enjoy your prom night with your other friends.”
The present-day Jungkook is still young and confused. He’s at a loss, looking like he’s on sensory overload as he absorbs all the information. You see his eyes flicker to where your Accord is parked, your prom dress hanging on one of the arm pulls. You never even pulled it out of the bag.
“Here,” you pull his corsage from your purse, placing the white rose atop the porch. If you try to put it on him, you fear you may never leave. With a determined huff, you turn around in the direction of your car.
“Where are you going?” he asks, clutching the railing of his porch, “what about prom?”
“I have other plans,” you shrug over your shoulder, “have a good night.”
You don’t look back, although you feel Jungkook’s stare burning in your head. You take great care in going into drive and punching in a new destination in your clunky GPS. This time you have to do things one at a time, once you get your Tesla ten years from now, you’re sure this process will be much easier.
Jimin’s family comes out of the airport, looking impeccable as always. Ten years younger, with puffy cherub cheeks and bright eyes. To your surprise (but also all things considered, it’s Jimin), your best friend comes out in a three-piece suit. It’s burgundy, and suits his dark hair well. He places his luggage into your car, hugs his family good-bye and waits for them to depart in their cab.
“You are all dressed up, and for what,” you chuckle, driving out of the airport.
“Well, when you sent that voicemail that you’d be waiting for me, I changed in the bathroom,” Jimin quips, already fiddling with your radio to play some poppy overplayed music, “but why aren’t you dressed? I thought we were going to be fashionably late to prom. Spill.”
“Hm, let’s talk about it in the morning. I wanna enjoy my prom night,” and you reach over to ruffle Jimin’s soft black strands, “y’know, you’d look really sexy as a blond.”
He pulls down your mirror, positioning it over his face. Pursing his plush lips, he tilts his head. “Yeah, maybe when I’m older,” he grins at his reflection, “so if we’re not going to prom, let’s go get pizza.”
So the two of you get pizza. But not before you take your prom pictures. Your parents meet you at the park with their old digital camera, ready for your impromptu photoshoot. Jimin uses an old tarp to cover the car up while you change in the car, shimmying in your sparkly silver tulle dress. Your hair is held up and away from your face, looking clean enough to be presentable as you pose for the camera. The two of you pick yellow dandelions from the grass, matching flowers as last minute dates. Your parents coo and are happy for you, knowing that even if you don’t attend the actual dance, the pictures will last forever and you’ll smile at them for years.
Eventually you tell Jimin about Jungkook and the whole fiasco (sans the ten year mental time jump.) The reaction is expected, Jimin says he wants to fuck Jungkook up. Surprisingly for him, he doesn’t have to do much to console you. In fact, you sip coolly from your smoothie and say Jungkook will probably let Jimin get a punch in even though Jungkook can bench press his tiny body in half. But you tell him you’re okay, and all you want to do is go home and binge watch.
Jimin carries the pie in his lap while you pull up your driveway. The smell of toasty cheese and fresh dough fill your car.
“I want to watch Sky City,” Jimin sing-songs, “Kim Seokjin is God’s gift!”
You crinkle your nose, “He’s alright.”
“What! You thought he was so hot like, last week.”
“Things change.”
Jimin makes it to your room first, saying he’ll take care of setting things up. He’ll probably steal all the available cushions and make a fort for himself while he puts a picnic blanket on the floor in front of your television. You can imagine him hogging all your stuffed animals, placing it on his side of the carpet while he rifles through your drawers so he can change out of his suit.
Your parents tell you to take out the trash before you have fun tonight. Careful not to get your dress dirty, you hold it away from your body as you waddle out the front door. You make it two steps into the driveway before the soggy trash bag is whisked from your hands.
“I got it,” Jungkook says quietly, and it takes little to no effort for him to haul the large bag into the waiting trash can. His shoulders are slumped under his white button-up, his suit jacket probably stuffed somewhere in the back of the car.
“Jungkook,” you reply, dumbfounded, “it’s only eight, prom isn’t even over yet.”
“I know… but then I realized you weren’t gonna get your money’s worth if you didn’t go. I asked the waitress if she could get me a doggie bag for my date and,” he holds up a stapled bag, presumably the dinner that was supposed to be served, “it’s your favorite.”
“Thank you,” you give him a small, grateful smile as you accept the bag. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
He bites his lip, stuffing his hands in his dress pockets. “A-and you told me before you left that I should go spend prom night with my friends,” he ruffles his hair, blown out of the pomade and falling into his eyes, “and then I realized that you were right. Jennie and all those people out there aren’t really my friends. They like my rep and they like my attention, but they don’t like me.”
You shake your head, “Jungkook, you’re very likable. Jennie and her group are just one bad bunch.”
“But I don’t wanna be liked by my rep. I wanna be liked for the things I love,” he steps a hesitant step towards you, and he relaxes when he sees that you don’t recoil, “I haven’t told anyone this. But I want to drop that sports scholarship. I applied to an art school, and I got in.”
Suppressing a grin with a bite of your lips, you cheer silently in your head. Things are changing. “I’m so happy for you, Jungkook. Congrats.”
“And I’m sorry for all the fucked up things I did. Jennie may have manipulated me but I definitely was a big part of it,” Jungkook pulls the words out of the sky, finally having enough time to formulate an apology, “but please don’t doubt for a second that my feelings are fake. I really like you, and I wish we got to know each other under better circumstances.”
“I wish we could’ve,” you echo sadly. “But our futures—”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you.”
You shake your head, frowning at his kicked puppy expression. “I’m considering a fashion school in Europe,” you reach for Jungkook’s hand, squeezing it. Letting him know that everything’s going to be okay. “You and Jimin can visit me during the breaks, Europe has some great spots to photograph.”
Something in Jungkook’s gaze tells you that it’s not enough for him. He wants to be selfish and hold onto you tighter, but you know that’s not good for the both of you right now. “That’d be nice,” he says vaguely, giving you a pained smile.
Jungkook rubs his thumb over your hand, relishing in the softness of your skin. “You look really pretty,” he says, looking forlornly over the dress. He can only imagine how ethereal you’d look under the fairy lights that decorated the venue, “I wish we could’ve had one dance.”
You shrug, “The night’s still young,” you gesture to the space in the driveway, and the lights that overhead the garage.
The slow Taylor Swift music that plays from his pocket is muffled, but it doesn’t deter either of you as he places his hands on your waist and you wrap his around his neck. You’re wearing your bunny house slippers and Jungkook’s neck is moist from his nervous sweats, but you know that this memory will be engraved in your brain for years to come.
It feels good to know that from now on, you don’t have to be so concerned about the future now that you’ve had a taste of it. All you want now is to take it one day at a time. At this moment the, the only thing you want to do is focus on how you’re going to hold onto Jungkook for the last time. At least for now, who knows what will happen in the future.
“I really want to kiss you, Bun,” he leans in, foreheads touching, “but I don’t deserve it.”
“You’re right,” you tease, “you don’t.”
He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.”
Yet you figure you’ve made enough headway these past few weeks, and you deserve to be a little selfish. One last kiss, you think to yourself. Your fingers flatten against the pressed material of his collar, meeting in the middle to clutch Jungkook’s slim black tie. Jungkook bites his lip, looking down at you for permission. With the tiniest of nods, you get on your tippy toe toes you lean forward and you can smell the apple cider lingering on his lips—
“Ohmygod—are you broken up or not!” both of you whip your heads up to see Jimin hanging over your open window, looking absolutely bored. His arms dangle over your sill, wearing a frayed high school jumper. “Either tell him to get lost or invite him over to watch television because I’m hungry!”
You pull away from him fully, squeezing his biceps. “Want pizza?”
He shakes his head, “I think it’s a trap. Jimin’s waiting for me to come up so he can rip my head off,” he gives a tentative wave to the second floor, but Jimin just scoffs and goes back inside, “but I’ll see you Monday.”
“Okay. Good night, Kook.”
“Good night, Bun.”
Your heart pinches a little as you watch him drive away. Before, you knew what the end game was between you two. It didn’t end pretty. Now, you’re not so sure. At the very least, it isn’t ending on a sour note.
Some time later.
“Your majesty,” you give her a practiced smile, taking careful measures not to brush the lady’s shoulders too hard in the fear she’ll whittle away, “emerald is an impeccable color on you.”
The Queen of England (the McDuckin' Queen of England!) just laughs at you and waves you off. You can’t believe you’re photographing a real queen. This is like the childhood equivalent of meeting Malibu Barbie. You thank every single choice and mistake you’ve made in your entire life that has brought you up to this impeccable moment. She’s a vision, you could cry. In fact, you’ll cry later in the comfort of your hotel room. “Do you think the photographer will take long?” she asks, frowning, “I have drinks with my friends in an hour.”
You smirk, pleased to know she’s still kicking it in her golden years. “Yeah, just so long as my husband doesn’t get distracted. Fifteen minutes, tops.”
“I’m not distracted,” Jungkook huffs, pulling away from his tripod. He gives up on trying to stabilize the camera, instead preferring to go freehand for this one. He gives you an incredulous look, hands on his hips, “I have two queens in my viewfinder and I only got room for one. Get out of the shot, Bun.”
With a playful roll of your eyes, you step away from the lady of the hour to let Jungkook do his thing. He’s right in his element, blurting choreographed poses and telling the lighting people to move at his beck and call to get the perfect angle. You stand a distance behind him, letting him take control.
“I’m so hungry,” your whisper is low enough to blend between the jazz music, but loud enough for Jungkook’s ears to listen in, “please tell me you’re almost done.”
“Oui, oui.”
“Wrong language, Kook. Please don’t offend anyone,” and discreetly, you take one step closer in your Tory Burch flats, “did you get any candids of me and the Queen?”
“Duh, Bun,” you can’t see his face but you know he’s grinning, “Jimin will faint.”
"Oh, yes! Thank you, I love you," you gush, reaching over to discreetly pinch his butt.
He shakes his head, looking over his shoulder to give you a brief smirk, "Show me how thankful you are tonight."
So silly, you think. It's amazing how well you work together as two separate entities of a photoshoot yet share a brain cell in the presence of each other. In another world, Jungkook said if given the chance, he'd be by your side and make your world a better place.
Ten years later, it's exactly that and more.
#jungkook x reader#btswritingcafe#btsghostie#kwritersworldnet#jungkook fic#bts fic#bts fluff#bts angst
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
please please PLEASE may we have a part two to the 'only one bed' piece you posted 🥺🥺 your writing is INCREDIBLE and I loved it so much 🥺🥺🥺 if u decide to do a part two then thank u so much in advance,, hope u have a good day 🥺
a/n: you asked for it (some others did too but this anon was so adorable so I’m replying to this one) so I’m gon’ give it to u <3 also, THANK YOU I am being 1000% honest that your comments seriously brought me to tears I was SO happy you all loved it. when I say pt.2, I kind of assume that it’s with the same characters (since no one specified others) so that’s what I’m gonna do!
Context provided, don’t worry babes
WARNINGS: sexual harassment, intoxication, extremely heavily suggestive (it gets pretty spicy)
Also contains spoilers from part 1 but like why would you even read part 2 if you haven’t read part 1? Get outta here and read it!! (Why is this even a warning? I don’t know don’t question my methods)
-
“There’s only one bed” [PT.2] PT.1
Saeyoung
You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug. Shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.
When you’d noticed him stirring awake, you quickly shut your eyes once more, trying to conceal your growing smile
Saeyoung blinked a few times before registering at last where he was
He needed a little more time to register why you are in his arms
Pretending to be asleep again, you nuzzled further into his chest, letting out a soft groan
Saeyoung’s mind flew to DANGER MODE
He felt kinda guilty holding you in his arms because let’s face it there’s no way he isn’t enjoying this
He was so stunned that, for once, he was at a loss for words (shocking, I know)
Blinking out of his stupor, he murmured, “Y/N?”
His morning voice was... nice.
You pretended to “wake up”, fake yawning before saying, “Yes, Saeyoung?”, subtly batting your eyes a little
(It wasn’t subtle)
But since Saeyoung is an actual fucking moron, he can’t tell the difference
Play it cool, Seven. She can’t know that you know she was doing this all night and you didn’t do anything.
“Wow”, Saeyoung choked out a laugh, “I didn’t know you liked me this much.”
You look down, in between the two of you before slowly making eye contact with him again, smirking in disbelief, “I could say the same to you.”
A slow blush crept up his face at the innuendo
But he was NOT about to lose
Saeyoung Choi is NOT a loser
“Oh, yeah? Well, I wasn’t the one screaming my name last night.”
You gasped, “Screaming?! I didn’t scream -- I would’ve remembered a dream like tha-- Oh!” You quickly covered your mouth, already feeling regret seeping into every bone of your body.
Saeyoung openly chuckled, looking at you with a sort of darkness in his eyes
“You’re more dangerous than this whole mission.”
You were still out of sorts, failing to come up with a comeback besides a quiet, “I wasn’t screaming.”
A shit eating grin replaced the cool smirk on Saeyoung’s face
“I win.”
“Eat a dick, Seven.”
“Sorry, I think I’m more attracted to the one who was moaning out, ‘Oooh, Saeyoung~~~’“
You threw a pillow straight in his face, muttering a “shut up”, blushing profusely
Ever the competitive fucker, Saeyoung proclaims an all out pillow fight
It is WAR
Throwing pillow after pillow at each other in between giggles and taunts and jeers
“Take no prisoners!” you shouted, feeling unbeatable
Until Saeyoung grabbed your ass, pulling you down with him, earning a yelp from you
“What the fuck, Sev’?! You cheater!!”
“I don’t know, my hand’s a lot more comfortable here!”
You scoffed, “Oh, YOU! YOU are gonna GET IT!”
Saeyoung threw back his head in laughter but abruptly stopped when you grabbed his face with both your hands, and forcefully kissed him
He let out a “MMPH!”, eyes wide
Before, of course, kissing you back with equal force
Gasping for air at last, you spoke in between breaths, “I......win..”
“Actually, darling, I think I just did.”
Noticing your loss for words, he smirked before asking, “So.... what’s my prize?”
You didn’t have to be asked twice, “I think I have something in mind...”
His eyes met your own before slowly scanning your body, then snapping back to your eyes once more
You bit your lip
“I know you’ll lose at least one thing tonight.”
“Bold of you to assume--”
“Just shut up and kiss me again.”
Wish granted ;)
Yoosung
Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.” You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!” Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you
“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”
She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?” Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red
“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--”
“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.”
Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel. This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung. Yeah. Gotta love relatives.
Following this stunning confession, you felt dumb because, well, you still didn’t know where you really stood with Yoosung
So when night came, you were ready to go to a party
Putting on your earrings and making sure your clothes were laid properly in place, you stepped out of the resort room to a waiting Yoosung
“H-hey, thanks for waiting for me,” You nervously tucked a stray hair behind your ear.
Yoosung avoided eye contact, opting for a stiff nod
You gazed deeper into the side of his head, feeling hurt.
But... you decided not to say anything.
Walking together to the reserved room the resort had made in preparation for Yoosung’s uncle was awkward, not a single word spoken between the two of you
When you arrived, Yoosung’s eccentric uncle immediately shouted, “’Sung ‘Sung! Get over ‘ere! We’re gonna have a part-ay!!”
You suddenly understood why Chaewon was the way he was
and why Yoosung’s parents forced him to go on this trip instead of themselves
Since you didn’t know his name, you opted for your nickname -- Uncle Alcohol
Cuz he had a LOT of it
In number, and in the amount he shoved down his throat at any given time
Seriously, how is this guy already drunk?!
You watched as Uncle Alcohol shoved a sloppy arm around Yoosung, not so quietly shouting something in his ear above the blaring music
You were too far away to hear, thank goodness, but you took note of the way Yoosung immediately blushed and shook his head fervently, his hands held in front of his chest
Before you could take in the atmosphere further, you felt a shiver down your back
Immediately turning around you saw the oh-so-famous Chaewon
“Heeeyyyyyyy babbeeheehe...... Wannnaaa..... sliiidee in my room tonighhht?” Laughing in a way what made you cringe and your ears numb, you replied, “No thanks, bud. You should probably get some water.”
“Nooo I want youuuu” Grabbing your boob in his hand, he laughed again, saying, “Nice”
Oh my god.. where the fuck is Yoosung??
You quickly slapped away his hand, shouting, “Stay the hell away from me asshole! Try anything else again, and I won’t give a shit that you’re drunk or Yoosung’s family, I will call the cops on you!”
He acted as if he didn’t hear you, but must’ve gotten the message because he sauntered over to another group of girls
Aren’t those his cousins? What the fuck is WRONG with that guy?!
The loud smack and curses answered the question. You didn’t attempt to help when you saw them proceed to beat the absolute shit out of him, blood and all.
What you needed was a drink. Something really, really strong.
You walked over to the resort bar tender
Something about your face must’ve given it all away because he began with a “Rough night, huh?”
“Do not even fucking ask me about it. God, please, I’m sorry that was rude. I just need something strong... just give me three fingers of rye.” You waved your hand nonchalantly, sitting at a bar stool.
“Are you sure, lady? You don’t look the type to handle that kinda liquor..”
“That’s kind of the point.”
He sighed, “Look... I’m not supposed to condone you getting completely shit-faced.. but you look like you need it tonight. I’ll make something a little easier down the throat, okay?”
You nodded, exasperated.
You didn’t know what it was, but it did the trick. It’s fruity taste easily passed down your throat, leaving you feeling lighter and more at peace.
“’nother one.”
He obliged, pouring another glass for you.
Four drinks in and your world was already unbelievably wobbly.
You were seeing double, looking at the bartender’s second form
You laughed, it all seemed to funny
Standing up, you stumbled over to the dance floor, grabbing one of Uncle A’s craft beers.
Dancing was fun for a few minutes, grateful no one had bothered you.
But you sat down, tears suddenly welling in your eyes
You were alone.
Yoosung.
Your mood brightened just by remembering his name
Giggling, you called out, “Yoosuuungg~~~” repeatedly around the room
One of the cousins heard your call, laughing because everything was funny, before grabbing Yoosung’s arm and shouting what they’d just heard
Yoosung quickly glanced over at you, brows furrowed. They softened a little upon seeing your drunken state
He’d had a beer or two, but the good feeling got old quickly and he sobered up by the time he’d noticed his cousins acting like complete fools
Upon seeing him, your smile grew to a big, childish grin
“Hiiii Yoosuuunggg...”
“Jeez, Y/n, how much did you drink?”
You giggled, playfully sticking out your tongue, “not sure~ a few.. probably..?” you laughed again, winking at him
“Hey, let’s get you some water, yeah? On second thought.. we gotta get outta here. I’ll carry you to our room.”
Your eyes shamelessly stared at his lips, not listening to a word he was saying
“Yoosunngg~~ I want you to fuck meeee”
Yoosung held the bridge of his nose in between his fingers, “L-let’s just go.”
Putting your arm over his shoulder, he carried most of your weight.
“Yoosuuung I want to have your babiess~~”
Yoosung blushed and looked down, continuing to walk, “You’re way too drunk.”
“Yoosunggieee I want to know what it feels like to have your d--”
He quickly shushed you, looking around for other observers
He basically ran to your resort room from there
Taking a long sigh as he finally had got you in the room, he wiped some sweat off his face
Just when he’d gotten up to get a water bottle for you, he heard retching noises
Before he could stop you, you upchucked all over yourself and some of the cheap resort carpeting
Groaning in physical and emotional pain, Yoosung muttered a quiet, “why me”
Before putting his arms under your arm pits and dragging you to the bathroom
He spent a good 10 minutes just trying to get the stupid shower to turn on because of course at any other place than your own house it’s never easy
Then, after getting the temperature just right, he forced you to down at least half of the water bottle
“Are you able to take off your clothes by yourself, Y/n?”
You giggled back, shaking your head
“Liar.”
“Help me take ‘em off pweaseee”
“No!”
You started tearing up again, your lip wobbling
“You know I can’t do that sweetie, you’re drunk.”
“No ‘m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
You looked up at him before sighing and lifting up your shirt, fully exposing half of your naked body to him
He screamed like a little girl, running and slamming the door behind him
You pouted, “That’s no fun.”
After getting out of your clothes, you devised another poorly thought through plan
“Yoosunngggieee I need help washing myselffff”
“Um.. okay, lemme go see if I can get a hold of someone...”
“I want it to be you. I want it to be you who sees me like this. I want it to be you. Only you.”
“S-stop..” He said through the door.
“Please?”
Sighing, Yoosung knew there was no one who wasn’t drunk or available to help.
He did what any good guy would do. He proceeded to blind fold himself, opting for reaching his hands out to guess and where things were.
You laughed, “’Sunggiee you know you’re still gunna be touchin’ me”
“I’m not going to.”
“You said you’d help me!”
“Yeah, getting shampoo or something like that!”
“How ya gunna do that with somethin’ over your eyes?”
“I didn’t think it through that far.”
You sighed, conceding and attempting to wash yourself (which ended pretty badly) but, keeping his word, he managed to assist you the best he could without touching you.
He pitied the hangover you’d have... and the regret.
At last carrying you to bed after getting you another drink of water, he began cleaning the putrid stain you’d left on the carpet.
It was about 5AM when he’d finished, finally crawling into bed.
He thought about the way it felt last night compared to now
and he blamed himself.
He was the one that made you get so drunk you essentially passed out
Looking at you again, he sighed.
Tugging you close into his arms, he whispered a soft, “I’m sorry.”
Your subconscious must’ve heard him because you said in your sleep, “’s ok.”
Jumin
And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart. And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes. Jumin was confused. He can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.” He shut off the light, reaching over you. You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you. Unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.
You were awoken by birds chirping outside the massive estate window
You made eye contact with an already staring, wide-eyed Jumin
Upon realizing you’d woken up, he averted his gaze saying, “Breakfast -- soon.”
You missed the crimson color of his face, instead getting up and stretching (like you didn’t learn your lesson last time)
Then, you made your way over to the fresh coffee that had been delivered to your room minutes before
Adding a shit load of cream and a dash of sugar, you turned to see Jumin staring at you. Again.
You breathed out a laugh, “What are you looking at?”
Jumin’s brows knit together for a split second before he again looked away, his soft blush never fading, “It’s hard not to.”
“Look at wha--” Your eyes grew wide in realization, looking down at the lingerie hardly covering your skin, Jumin’s shirt no where to be seen.
You screamed, making a poor attempt to cover yourself shouting, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I forgot!!”
Again, Jumin found his gaze resting on your body, stifling a groan.
He at last spoke, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room, “You... you’re making this all.. so much more ....difficult.”
You then grew defensive, “Made what difficult? Ogling at me without staying anything?!”
His eyes glowered with something you couldn’t quite place. “That’s not what I meant”
He walked slowly toward you, causing you to take steps backward
He’d backed you up against the wall, letting out a deep breath through his nose
With glittering eyes, he grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look up at him instead of the ground
“You’re doing on purpose, aren’t you?”
You gulped in anticipation, “D-doing what?”
Jumin raked his eyes down your body then looked back up at you with a sarcastic expression that said, “really?”
“N-no! I didn’t have a choice!!”
“Your clothes would’ve been dry hours ago.. if it really bothered you--”
“Well I was really tired from the jet ride and putting up with you!”
Jumin looked surprised for a moment before grinning sardonically, “Putting up with me? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to control myself when you’re constantly grabbing me, touching me, everything!”
“I didn’t do all that on purpose!” Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but you weren’t about to admit that to him when he was being such a dick.
He laughed dryly, “Yeah, okay. All I’m saying is that I don’t find it very funny.”
“You think that you’re just some big joke to me?!”
“What other explanation is there?”
You were practically hysterical in your laughter saying, “You’re unbelievable.”
“Oh yeah?” he challenged.
“Yeah,” you glared back at him, your faces inches apart.
Before Jumin could realize what he was doing, he pulled your hips flush against his own, crashing his lips harshly on yours.
Letting out moans of both desperation and anger, your eyebrows furrowed as you deepened the kiss, gasping when Jumin slid his tongue so far into your mouth you swore you felt it going down your throat.
After what felt like hours, you parted for oxygen, both breathing heavily, before going in for another long, simmering kiss
You felt Jumin smirk against your mouth causing you to lightly smack his chest, hating that he knew he’d gotten a rise out of you.
He grabbed your wrist against his chest, slowly guiding it to his first button of his night shirt.
You made quick work of removing all the fastenings, nodding and obeying him when he commanded, “Jump”
Your legs tied round his waist, you continued to make out, pulling at the waistband of his pants.
Jumin moaned into your mouth before parting to say, “You will be the death of me, little spitfire.”
Let’s just say the whole fiance thing might not be a lie anymore.
Zen
Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.” But instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.” He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity. But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?” Um, yeah, rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much.
You awoke you Zen rubbing his thumb on your arm, basking in the morning light
He groggily said, “’mornin’ babe.”
“I’m ‘babe’ now?”
“What else am I supposed to call my beautiful girlfriend?”
You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling.
“I love you, Zen. So much.”
“I love you, too, Y/n. If you didn’t already get that from when we...”
You laughed shyly, “yeah..”
“I know I skipped a few steps, but I have never been happier and more sure of anything in my life.”
You looked up at him, peacefully grinning.
“Hey, let’s get married.”
Zen choked on his spit, “R-right now?!”
You giggled, “Not right now, but soon. I dunno, we’ve been friends for, like, forever. Now that we know we like each other it seems like the next step.”
Zen looked at you, searching your face to determine whether you were serious or not.
Detecting that you weren’t joking he laughed airily saying, “Sure. Whatever you want princess.”
He kissed the top of your head, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, ya know that?”
Sighing comfortably, you nodded, falling back into sleep.
“H-hey! Wake up!!” Zen shouted, giving up and just cuddling up to you instead, stroking your hair gently.
The concert wasn’t until late that night -- he had time to spare.
....Even if he didn’t, he’d make time for you.
- 3 months later
In classic Zen and Y/n style, you’d eloped shortly after the tour ended.
“Hey, Y/n? Have you seen my grey t-shirt?”
You looked up from your laptop, “Mhm, it’s in the dryer.”
He sighed, “Thanks babe”, before making his way down to the mudroom where your laundry was kept
He sifted through the hot laundry in the dryer, not seeing his shirt anywhere, when he hard a crash.
“Y/N?!”
He rushed out to the living room, glancing from the smashed coffee mug on the ground, to you.
“Y/N?! Are you okay?!!!”
You clutched your stomach in anguish, beads of sweat forming at your brow, “Y-yeah.. my stomach hurts so bad ‘s all.”
Zen was having NONE of that
He rushed you to the Emergency Room, holding your hand the entire time.
“It’s gonna be okay, Princess, I promise.” You nodded, before losing consciousness
-
you awoke to a depressing hospital room, meeting Zen’s worried eyes.
“How long was I out..?”
“For a few minutes.”
You sighed in relief, feeling a lot better than you were when you were rushed to the ER.
All of a sudden, a doctor entered the room looking stern.
“I wanted to discuss the diagnosis with the two of you when you were both physically present.”
You blanched, looking at Zen with fear etched in your eyes.
Zen held your hand tighter, before saying, “What’s the problem?���
The doctor looked in between the two of you before letting out a little laugh, “There’s nothing wrong, actually.”
You both looked confused, Zen proudly saying, “Then why’d you look all doom and gloom when you came in here?!”
The doctor roared with laughter saying, “Eh, I get a kick out of the faces you guys make. Ah, now to the diagnosis.”
“There’s still a diagnosis?!”
You shushed Zen, nodding at the doctor.
He took a breath before saying, “Miss Y/N Hyeon, you’re pregnant.”
Both your eyes grew wide, mouths slacked
“O-oh, oh my gosh!!”
Zen enveloped you in a big hug, congratulating you (and also hiding his tears)
This man could not hold back the proud grin he sported for MONTHS
-
I simp for this prompt so if someone asked, it’s not like I could say no to writing it for more characters.......right? lol Also, I came to a realization that I made that a fanfic rather than a headcanon.. so oh well, right?
#707#zen x reader#jumin han x reader#yoosung fluff#yoosung fanfic#yoosung mystic messenger#mm jumin#jumin x reader#jumin han#han jumin#saeyoung choi#luciel choi#seven zero seven#yoosung x reader#seven x reader#saeyoung x reader#mystic messenger#707 mystic messenger#myseme#mystic messenger 707#mystic messenger zen#mystic messenger headcanon#mystic messenger fanfic
559 notes
·
View notes
Text
As the Seasons Come and Go
Kazuha x Reader
Word count: 4000
Tags: Fiends to lovers, GN!Reader, Kazuha tops, Tears, Penetrative sex, Mutual Masturbation, One sided romance, Porn with plot, Porn with feelings
Kazuha has come and gone from your teapot multiple times now. For years you have developed your feelings from strangers to the closest of friends. Now you have become completely smitten with him. But he only arrives in the peak of summer and winter, when the sun and wind are at their harshest. [Movie trailer voice] And this summer, you’ll gather up the courage to ask “Will you lay with me for the night?”
O h god this is 4000 words long u m porn with plot and feelings I guess??? Please forgive me yall.
Time and time again you find yourself watching him leave the small abode you have offered to be his sanctuary in times of hardship. Like the changing of seasons, he comes and goes from the teapot you call home, searching and wandering the landscape in hopes of finding a way to stir the masterless vision he carries from it’s deep slumber. He is inherently mysterious in his eloquence and fleeting in his presence, the act of talking with him always leaving you feeling as if a fresh breeze had come to bring your mind to attention. A wandering samurai who you happened to bump paths with on a dreary summers night has embraced your heart with both gentle winds and words. His smile is euphoric, his sadness earth shattering, and his lingering touches on your shoulders or hands before he bids you farewell yet again like fire starters in your mind and body.
“You have to go already?” you gently asked as he began putting his humble array of belongings into the small pack he carried. “Yes. The scorching sun has calmed its burning gaze for now. Since it is beginning to cool, I must travel while I still can.” His face and hair are brightened in their shade by the light of the sun as you gaze upon his form slowly peeling itself from the grassy bed he was laying in. “Can I expect a visit sooner rather than later? It IS getting pretty hot out there.” You smiled lazily as you always did while napping beside him, concealing the hope woven into your question with the playful tone you reserved for your best friend. “We’ll have to see how merciful this whimsical summer will be. I find myself in cooler nights as of late, so at least there is solace in fall coming soon.” The smile he gave you was not unlike the warm one would feel when stretching out on a sun kissed rock.
“I’ll prepare a bed and some food for you when that time comes then” You replied as your closed your eyes. You pretended to still be sleepy, but in truth, you couldn’t bear to see his back retreating from your sight.
“Thank you. Surely we will cross paths again.” was the hope he voiced.
Those words burned a hole in your heart with the same intensity as the summer heat you found yourself traveling in. Your entire being had ached at the thought of seeing him arrive in the abode you had called home again. You know that someone such as Kazuha couldn’t be restrained from the desire to roam that laid heavy in his soul. It would be wrong of you to commit the sin of tying him down when he had the desire to see new people, experience new things, and further his understanding of the beautiful world he has found himself in.
Yet the way his words held your attention, the way his voice brought solace to you, the way his body would bring you lust, all of it made you hope for more of him and his presence, his being. You would sometimes, under the influence of intense lust and unbearable longing, find yourself running your hands along your body in an effort to satiate your growing need. You mimicked his mannerisms with your hands, how he would run a palm along the small of your back while you stumbled in your climbing, the gentle curl of his fingers as he would run a hand through your hair while you would bare to him your feelings and thoughts, and how his grip felt when he held your hand for a tad longer than necessary while bidding your farewell. With the knowledge of what he does to you potent and heavy in your mind, you finally brought about the resolve needed to tell him how you felt. All of your feelings for him would come to light the next time he allowed himself to enter your domain. This was a promise you made for yourself, as selfish as it may be, you’re ready to accept whatever answer he will give.
- - -
The rain was beating heavily on your form as you wandered down the muddy path that stretched on for miles. The rain was comforting when you found yourself in the safety of a home, far from any of the damaging effects of excessive cold or water, but when you were caught out in the rain like this it only became a source of discomfort. You have forced yourself to continue on through the stormy night until you could find a suitable place to camp, that would be the only way you got proper sleep tonight you decided.. The clouds hung heavy overhead and visibility was proving difficult due to the combination of darkness and rain, yet after squinting into the distance for awhile, you finally discovered some hope for your situation. A light beaming in the darkness. A light from a home? A traveler’s camp? Anything would be fine so long as you were released from the sticky grip of the heavy rain.
Your mind was filled with conflicting thoughts as you saw where the light had come from. The rain was heavy and dreary, yet your heart felt light upon seeing a familiar samurai squatting near a small oil lamp, trying his best to put together a makeshift shelter with local branches and foliage. “Kazuha!” you called out despite the rain attempting to overpower your voice. He raised his head to look in your direction, his keep hearing coming in handy during the onslaught of noise, and he smiled when his eyes had met with yours. For a moment you had felt your face warm up despite it being cold mere moments ago. “You look drenched!” He replies to your call with mirth in his voice “The tempest has forgo its’ kindness for the both of us I see. Here, let me find a secluded spot for us, if you don’t mind me asking for shelter in return that is.”
You didn’t mind at all.
- - -
You two finally found a spot safe enough for you to bring out your teapot. With no hesitation, you found yourself welcoming Kazhua inside to dry off and relax for the rest of the night with you. The rain followed into your teapot of course, but it was a kinder rendition of the noisy forest and harsh clouds that you had just escaped. A small drizzle lingered in the air to cool landscape and the skin, its’ presence heavenly in comparison to beating rain and howling winds. Your abode was a small one. A modest bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen was all that a traveler like you needed. It was simple and having a place of your own to weather out the harsh conditions was more than enough to satisfy your basic needs. Kazuha came in by your side and the two of you laughed lightly at the urgency you two had shown previously, rain sticking wet hair to your faces and necks as reminders of what has passed. “Go ahead into the bathroom and get those wet clothes off” you stated to your travel companion as you shrugged off your cloak and hung it up on the porch. “I’ll get the fireplace ready.” Kazuha took a moment to smile with a distant glimmer in his eye at you, not moving from the spot he was in in favor of keeping an eye on you. “What?” you goaded with a smile.
“It just reminds me of when we first met. You said that to me then too, all those seasons ago.” And feeling happy with his statement, he finally wandered his way into your bathroom to change, leaving you stunned.
Archons you felt as if your heart was going to burst.
Clothes were now hanging on the backs of chairs, placed in proximity of the fireplace and it’s warmth, enough to dry but not enough to catch fire. Plates were on a small drying rack after a meal for two was prepared, the light dripping of water from their forms akin to the rain seeping off you and your companion when you entered earlier this evening. Warm and soft clothes encompass your form in a reassuring manner, reminding you that you were safe and sound, that you were home. It also reminded you that a piece of the outside world was here with you in the form of your friend Kazuha. He stretched out next to you on your floor near the fireplace, undoing his ever crooked ponytail as if to reinforce your point. It was almost like this was meant to happen, that he was meant to lay here. With you.. You had to suck in a breath of air as you realized how domestic all of this was.
Kazuha looks to you for a moment with soothing worry and slight curiosity in his eyes at your sudden intake of breath. “Something wrong? You didn’t get hurt in the rain did you?” The way his eyes light up in concern reminds you of your own fears regarding the situation you two are in, that all of this will end soon. Summer is reaching its’ ending and winter seems so impossibly out of your reach, an unrealistic time to wait before you see him again. He reaches a cruel hand to your face and takes your cheek into his palm with a tenderness that makes the burning in your skin unbearable. “What ails you, my friend? I hear your heart beating so much harder than normal.” The thread of self restraint snaps and curls its’ fibers within your being as you reach out to take his face in your hands. Your nose brushes against his own as you shift closer to him. As you slowly and carefully take his lips with your own. It is a chaste kiss that leaves as many feelings you can manifest on the corner of his lips. His eyes are wide with shock as you pull away, your face coming back into his vision red and shameful as you voice your desires.
“You’re going to be leaving soon. All of the leaves of fall will be behind us, rotting under layers of snow by the time that you and I get to meet again. Please.” You fist your hands into his cotton shirt, your vain attempt of keeping yourself composed now that the words are spilling out. “Lay with me at least once before you go-” His lips coming to take yours interrupts the pleading request you had for him. Euphoria washes over your body at the returned contact, your skin aches at the way his hands come to hold your face, how he lingers there as if he were searching for the warmth of your emotions with his fingertips alone. The kiss between the two of you rising like summers heat as you loop an arm around his shoulders, deepening this bliss by closing the proximity. His tongue comes to lick the inside of your mouth and he explores the feeling of kissing you with the vigor you could only imagine in the small fantasies you would have of him on lonesome nights.
The feeling is gone much too soon for your liking when he speaks up, breaking the kiss to do so. “I’ve waited so long, withstood so many seasons, in the hopes of kissing you with such passion one day.” He puffs out the words with a warm and blissful smile on his face, breathless from the intense kissing you two were partaking in. Your mind lags behind, caught up in the beauty he held when his eyes would crinkle with mirth, and it takes you a moment before the weight of his words come bearing down on you. “You.. you did-?” Is all you’re able to mumble out in your dumbstruck state before his mouth is on yours again, his passion encompassing your form in heated touches. The pleasure and goosebumps running over your skin leaves you with such a burning desire in not only your heart but your core as well. Knowing that if nothing else, he too wants you like this, is a revelation that leaves your mind feeling like the fog that lingers over a still pond and your body as sensitive as its’ rippling surface. Hands are running up your sides with fingernails barely scraping, causing the hairs on your body to raise in attention. Your fingers are laced in his hair and tugging softly at the strands, wringing out soft moans for you to devour with fervor. One of his legs finds itself slotted between your thighs, tempting you with its slow yet sweet pressure against your groin as it rocks back and forth.
Your hands squeeze his thighs firmly, your grip delectable and exciting to Kazuha apparently, because his hips give a small jerk forward in reply.
Archons you’ve both wanted this for far too long, haven’t you?
You’ve both become unsatisfied in your restrictive clothing, quickly doing your beth to be rid of the offending clothing in favor of feeling each other’s skin.You smooth your hands out against his back as he comes to lean over you, slotting himself in between your thighs as his trained arms come to support himself above you. “I love your being, your soul.” you hear him confess as he comes down to mouth at your ear, the words and movements sensual enough to cause you to shudder. “And I certainly love hearing every stuttering gasp and repressed moan you have given me” You mentally curse his sensitive hearing as his breath fans over your neck. “This peaceful melody you’ve given me… I hope this means I have been performing to your liking?” He mumbles into your skin before nipping it, soothing it with careful kisses in return. “Of course you’re performing well.” you mutter as you raise your hips to grind your sex against his erection, eliciting a small moan from him as revenge for his teasing words. “Or else I wouldn’t be looking like this.”
He stops his ministrations on your neck to sit up and admire your form. “And what a sight it is.” He smiles at you with genuine love in his eyes, passion and lust ever lingering, but taking a back seat to the pure admiration he holds for you. It’s enough to make your heart constrict with longing, the shutter running though your body causing you both to let out a small gasp at the stimulation on your groins. This teasing and aching are more than enough, you decide with a small huff of frustration. “Kazuha, I have some aloe vera in the bedside table, please.” You keen as you begin shuffling off your underwear. He understands your request and is quick to follow your plea as you toss the undergarment to the side. He gives a small lustful glance to you as he returns with the bottle, already ridding himself of his bottoms as he gazes upon your form.
He settles between your legs once more as he uncaps the bottle and allows the slick aloe vera to coat his fingers, running the liquid over his joints so as to warm it up before slathering it against your entrance. He puts the bottle to the side for a moment to focus his hands on the task of spreading you out, one careful finger slipping into you with trepidation. The feeling for you could only be described as erotic as you watched him begin working you, almost causing your hands to drop the bottle as you pour some aloe vera over your own fingers. He gives a small hiss in pleasure when your slicked hand wraps around him but he makes no effort to stop you from pumping his erection and coating it in your makeshift lube, causing you to smirk in content. You’ve given him this pleasure, his red and weeping head proof of your work, precum beading at the tip with every pump and his wimpers in delight every time you thumb the slit crowned on top. Taking your hand a little further, you reach to grab at his base, pressing your thumb into a particular vein when pleasure strikes up your spine and shocks you into stopping your movements. Ah, he’s scissoring you open with his fingers now. You weren’t even paying attention to him putting a second finger in with how preoccupied you were with jacking him off, but he certainly has your attention now. A small smirk lingers on his lips as you let out a shaky moan of desire. “Yes, please, Just like that..” You order as your hips coming up to voluntarily fuck yourself onto his fingers in shallow thrusts.
“Beautiful.” He coos as he slips his fingers out from your hole, the small amount of drag in the way he does so leaving your head spinning and your lower half longing for more. He gently drags your hips closer, propping your legs up on his hips while he presses the tip of his length against your hole, experimentally grinding the head against your aching entrance in hopes of testing the waters. You gently bat his arm in frustration glaring up at him with no heat to your gaze. “I’ve been longing for you, yet you still take the moment to relish in teasing me?” He chuckles and with his face sweetly red, he gives you a caste kiss on your lips. “I won’t be denying you any longer. I was just taking a moment to admire the sounds of slicked skin and the smell of heavy lust.” Of course his poetic tendencies come to light right when you are this close to having him in you. Though his head coming to stretch your hole is all that was needed for your forgiveness to be found, your steadying your breathing in an effort to make his entrance smoother.
He comes to lean over you as he slowly penetrates you, his arms on either side of your head now as his erection fills you out, the sensation leaving you shaking in his lap with goosebumps. Kazuha is not unaffected by this either if the small twitches from his erection and the shaky whines escaping his throat are anything to go by. Your slicked skin comes to meet his as you wrap your arms around his neck, readying yourself as he finally bottoms out and slots his thighs against your ass. “The pace?” He mumbles the question into your hair as he comes to hold you against him, one hand smoothing out over the back of your head while the other gently grasps your hips. “Quick.” you whine to his shoulder in desperation. “Hard so I will feel it for awhile.” So you have something to linger on while he is gone, your mind reminds you. You almost feel tears welling up as he begins thrusting into you at just the pace you asked, the pleasure taking over your body with electric shocks of arousal and need. His balls coming to smack against your ass, the heavier breathing combined with sweet moans coming from Kazuha, finally having your fantasy of your best friend sleeping with you brought to reality, it is almost too much. You rake your nails down his back in an attempt to gather more purchase, your mind blank now that you’re being pleasured like this.
He shifts his position to hit you deeper, allowing you to writhe in the euphoria of his length stretching and filling you. Your thoughts dim and your words turn to much. “Please! please, Kah-” You slur out as he keeps his intense pace. He holds you so gently, and his words are filled with praise and love as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, the fall looking so tempting as it leers ever closer. He bites into your shoulder lightly as his hips begin to stutter in their pace, rocking and grinding into you as he loses his precision. You, in your worry to make sure he’s alright, lean back just enough to get a glance of his face and the sight of him makes you clench around the wanderer. Kazuha’s face is completely a wreck, red and flushed, speckled in sweat slicked hair and, the most shocking of all, tears.
The sight of him sends you over the edge with a harsh push. Your eyes screw shut and legs spasm as you cling to him tighter, hoping he will help you weather out the intense storm that is your orgasm as it ravages your body. Your orgasm causes waves to ripple though your body, and it sends Kazuha off the edge as well after a few lagging thrusts. Your body begins to loosen its’ hold on the samurai as his cum pulses into your hole, filling you further and adding to the pleasure you feel when it begins oozing out from between your thighs. The heavy breathing and sighs of comfort linger in the air for awhile as you both take a moment to cool off from your activities. Archons, you traveled on foot all day and here you were having vigorous sex in the evening. The combination of things made you feel so, so incredibly tired while you two caught your breath.You are so spaced out from your orgasm, your body weary from never experiencing something so emotionally and physically charged as this whole evening was before.
Your eyes are barely able to stay open as Kazuha begins untangling himself from you some unknown amount of time later, his words like muffled distant conversation as you try to keep yourself awake and aware. He’s lifting you and moving you to your bedroom, you feel a cool cloth brush over your face and thighs, you feel some cool water down your throat, but all of it feels so disheartening and cruel knowing he won’t be coming back for awhile after this. You just wanted to lay with him for one night and then put the flames of this desire out for good, or at least that is what you told yourself. Sleeping the pain off seemed leagues easier than dealing with the sorrow you’ll feel if you let him pamper you, is what your mind rationalizes before you drift off to sleep.
That is to say, you were not prepared at all for what awaited you when you woke up the next morning. Despite Kazuha always getting up early and mentioning just the night before that he planned to leave, you find him cooking something in your kitchen, working hard to make something for you both to eat. When he welcomes you to the table with the warmest of smiles, you can’t help but feel gobsmacked by the fact that he is still here. With some assistance of course, he leads you to the table to eat.
“Wait you really thought I would just leave the morning after a confession and love making session like that?” He looks shocked at the explanation you shared with him over breakfast (lunch?). The sunlight drifting in through the window making you shrink in on yourself a tad, as if nature itself was putting the spotlight on you for scrutiny. “I thought…that you would head out by morning. You know the whole ‘the world and my mind will both grow dull lest I travel’ stuff and what not.” Your face red as you take another small helping of rice into your mouth in embarrassment. Kazuha gives a small smile your way as he stands up. You think he’s going to pull one of his old friendly gestures and bat you on the head for saying such things, but instead the most tender and chaste kiss is left on the corner of your mouth. You eyes look at him with shock as he pulls back to gaze at you lovingly.
“Instead of worrying about the idea of holding me back…” He takes your hands in his and runs his thumb along the back of it. “Of course. Only if you desire it. But how about we try wandering through this life together? You and I are both travelers after all-.”
You’re already hugging him, your heart elated and your soul as warm as hot summer.
246 notes
·
View notes
Text
pretty boy. peter parker
word count: 1279
warnings: teeny tiny bit of swearing n some flirting
requested: no! i saw a tiktok (found here) where y/n calls peter pretty boy and from that, this was birthed
plot: you both like each other what’s new
a/n: this is my first peter p writing that i’ve posted so pls tell me what u think ! i like it
masterlist
"pretty boy, with me!" you called, edging towards the exit. cap made to move towards you until you shook your head. "not you— peter come on!"
peter's eyes widened, taken aback by your comment. "w—what? me pretty boy?" his cheek flushed a subtle shade of pink, stuttering around his words.
you rolled your eyes, a small smirk on your lips as he wore a bemused expression across his face. you motioned for him to come with you, impatiently. "yeah, you pretty boy," you poked at his nervousness. it was sweet how flustered he'd gotten over a simple comment.
nat watched the encounter unfold quietly for long enough, she couldn't hold in an amused snort of laughter. "jeez' peter, we don't have all day— do as the girl says— go."
peter seemed to shake out of his daze, his eyes widening and locking on you. he nodded. "r—right, yeah— of course—" he stumbled all over the place, grabbing his mask from the desk beside him, pulling it over his head. "let's go."
"how does it feel having been demoted, cap'n?" tony wore an amused smirk on his lips, watching steve frown, a little embarrassed for being so presumptuous.
"you're a pretty boy in my eyes, if that makes you feel any better, cap," nat teased, letting out another bout of laughter. steve just rolled his eyes, grabbing his shield.
"let's just get this mission done, ok?" he was so serious, you must've really embarrassed him.
you and peter turned away from the group, speed walking down the corridor towards the exit. peter was lagging behind you slightly, trying to keep up but he was still in a bit of a daze.
"you clear on our task, spidey?" you glanced back to make sure he was following. you raised an eyebrow at his vacant expression, his eyes locking with yours when you spoke.
he opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. "w—what— sorry— i didn't catch what—"
you abruptly stopped walking, peter crashing into you as you did. you rolled your eyes again but couldn't disguise the look of amusement on your face. this boy was really all over the place when it came to girls.
"s—shit— sorry! i didn't mean to— you just stopped right in front of me— not that it's your fault! it's my fault! my peter tingle's been off late— i mean— not my peter tingle— my spidey senses. my aunt may calls it my peter tingle even though i've asked her a million—"
"oh my god, peter," you chuckled, your eyebrows raised in surprise. this boy could talk. he stood bewildered in front of you, and very flustered. "peter, as much as i'd like to hear all about your peter tingle—" peter's face went a deep shade of red when you said this. "we have a mission and i need you to focus."
you thought he was the sweetest boy you'd ever met but you needed his full attention right now and the only way to get it, was to be stern. he responded to authority. he nodded hectically.
"ok," you nodded. "let's go—"
"wait—" he interrupted, his hand touching your shoulder before you could turn back. "j—just so i can get this out of my head— you think i'm pretty?"
you smiled at the innocence in his tone, his eyebrows furrowed trying to desperately understand how someone as beautiful and badass as you could think he was pretty.
you shrugged. "pretty cute, yeah, pete."
"pretty cute— huh," he blinked a few times, before letting a relaxed smile fall on his lips. "i always thought you were really pretty too, by the way."
it was your turn to falter a bit, you weren't expecting that from him. you just smiled in return and shook your head. "thanks— but maybe we'll talk about this when we've beaten up a few bad guys and retrieved the hostages inside— sound good?"
"oh, yeah," peter was drawn back to reality. "right, bad guys."
you turned, peter following you again towards the building you were supposed to be infiltrating. he caught up, striding along next to you, glancing at your look of steel every now and again, completely in awe.
"do you think you'd want to go out with me? sometime?" peter kept moving. you, taken aback by the question, stumbled over your feet, catching yourself before your slammed into the floor. peter's hands moved to your arms quickly, guiding you back up. "woah— falling for me already?" he joked, now relaxed by the whole situation. he had taken the time to process the information. he really liked you, he always had, and now he had the confirmation that you liked him too— or at least found him attractive— he felt confident enough to speak his mind.
you snapped yourself quickly out the daze you found yourself now that his face was inches from yours, his clothed hands touching your bare skin. you let out an awkward laugh, trying to brush it off.
"if you focus and smash this mission with me— i'll go out with you," you nodded, walking away from the boy who was now grinning like an idiot. you ignored him, you were desperately trying to focus but with him looking at you like that it was so hard.
"i can do that," he nodded, catching up to you with a light jog. "this should be fun," he cheesed, approaching the back door to the building. you both turned on your comms, listening as the others got themselves into position before you could go any further.
"cap and nat— are you guys in position?" tony's voice rung through your ear piece. you held your hands up defensively, facing the door, ready to knock it down as soon as you got word. your hands glowing a red colour as you powered up.
"affirmative," cap answered.
"peter, y/n?"
"all ready," peter answered before you could. he slammed his wrists together, activating his web shooters. he leant in close to you, whispering in your ear. "you look pretty hot all geared up like that."
your eyes widened, turning to face him with raised eyebrows. peter wore a cheeky smile, he could get used to teasing you like this.
"oh my go— peter— keep that to yourself next time or at least wait till the missions over," you snorted at tony's comment, laughing at peter as his eyes widened now. he stuttered to apologise but tony cut him off. "i don't want to be hearing that shit— you're kids— jesus christ."
you wore a soft smile hearing tony tell peter off. you couldn't stop yourself from taking it a step further, it was one of your many pleasures in life, making tony uncomfortable.
"if it makes you feel better, that suit really works for you— i mean seriously— it hugs you in all the right places—" peter wore a look of surprise but still, he smirked at your comment.
"jesus— stop that please i'm begging you," steve huffed through the comms. you and peter stood waiting, still amused.
"alright," nat interrupted, though you could tell she was holding in her laughter. "we're all in position— let's kick some ass."
"anything to get the horny kids to focus on anything but each other," clint muttered for the first time, causing you to snort. you couldn't help it.
"jeez— alright, everyone move in," tony ordered. you and peter did as he said, you grabbed the door handles with your red hot hands and yanked them clean off before kicking the doors open.
"so cool," you heard peter mutter under his breath as he followed you inside.
#peter parker#peter#parker#peter parker imagine#peter parker imagines#peter parker masterlist#peter parker one shot#peter parker fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#tom holland#tom#holland#tom holland and y/n#peter parker au#peter parker and reader#peter parker and y/n#tom holland and reader#avengers#marvel imagine#marvel masterlist#avengers imagine#avengers masterlist#marvel#y/n#imagines#imagine#masterlist#reader
525 notes
·
View notes
Note
hihi! i know u just did a levi one, but could you do levi +32 ?
it’s cool! i love levi and i love writing him, these are fun for me :D also, not to toot my own horn but this came out pretty sexy
32 - “I don’t care if it takes all night, you will submit.”
warnings: bondage, spitting
requests are now closed!
Sultry sighs fill the air, timed perfectly with Levi’s incredibly slow thrusts. One of his hands is wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, not pressing down, just there in what he calls a fair warning. Your hands, on the other hand, are tied above your head, instead of tangled in his hair where they belong. This is his way of telling you that you deserve this, and you don’t deserve to touch him because naughty girls who mouth off are only allowed to watch. That is, until they ask for more.
You think, as the leather belts on his uniform burn and bruise your bare skin, that you may just be close to the tipping point.
Levi knows you’re getting there, but instead of sparing you, he decides to stop moving entirely, his full length still lodged deep inside your cunt. You whine, a hint of desperation in your ineligible cries, but he only scoffs at you, murmuring in your ear in a husky tone. “You know what I want. Beg.”
And you’d like to, you really would. But the brute demand brings you back to why you mouthed off in the first place - it’s because he always thinks he’s in charge. You’re determined to show him that even in this position underneath him you still have some semblance of control, that it will take more than this mind-blowing punishment for him to get you to beg for him.
Not a fan of your silence, he pulls out at a leisurely pace only to slam back into you again. You wail miserably as your walls clamp snugly against him again.
“You’re pissing me off, brat. Now open up.”
This command you obey almost instantly, causing Levi to give you a small, pleased smirk before he drops a wad of spit into your mouth. When you swallow it eagerly, he groans, rewarding you with a few sharp thrusts and a brief, heated kiss. It’s not even close to enough. You need more. But you need to hang on to your pride equally as much.
“Levi -” you plead, trying to appeal to his better nature.
“Not a chance. You don’t get to come until you beg, so you better - God - hurry the fuck up.” His teeth are gnashed together, and his face is red. You know you must look even worse. “I don’t care if it takes all night, you will submit.” A pause as he stares down at you, the demanding gaze making you tremble. “I can do this all night, brat. Can you?”
Eyes shutting tightly, you tell yourself that there will always be another time to rebuild your pride. For now, it seems you’ve lost.
186 notes
·
View notes
Text
undertow - 18+ teaser
- rating: m/18+
- pairing: seonghwa x fem reader, yeosang x fem reader, mingi x fem reader
- genre: pwp, smut
- summary: undertow. a new and budding sex club that your best friend wooyoung somehow dragged you out to. what you find there - well, more accurately the people you find there - manage to show you exactly what all the hype is about.
- warnings: explicit smut, watersports, spanking, kink negotiation, choking, degradation, dirty talk, praise, oral sex: m, anal, double penetration, creampie, a bit of breeding/impregnation kink if u squint, sir/daddy kink, dom/sub themes, a bit of voyeurism and exhibitionism, seonghwa has a cane, and he uses it, to spank, verbal consent is ~sexy~, so is protected sex but not in this fic sorry besties 👻
- pre-a/n: coming may 7th @nomseok hey bestie hahahahha ummm hehahhehahahe love u get ready 🥳
“Care for a drink?”
“Ah, no thank you, I don’t drink alcohol,” you respond without caring to look up at the newcomer.
“Good thing it’s just water then.” You can almost hear the smirk to his tone, and when you jerk your head to meet his gaze, you find a smile twisting his lips. Fuck, he’s tall. Dark hair covers part of his forehead, the other half swept to the side to unveil the smooth expanse of skin underneath. “Park Seonghwa, it’s quite a pleasure to meet you. You’ve had me waiting eagerly for tonight.” He holds a glass tumbler in one hand that is filled with clear liquid — water, no doubt — but his other hand is occupied by a sleek black cane, one decorated with a glinting silver wolf head at the top of it. The sight of it is a bit startling seeing as the man before you doesn’t seem much older than you; it seems even more unlikely that he needs the assistance of the walking cane, but you aren’t too quick to jump to conclusions.
“Thank you,” you manage instead of commenting on the odd cane, taking the glass from his waiting fingers with a small smile. “Nothing for yourself?”
“No, my drink is waiting for me upstairs. I prefer red wine to the harder liquors the bar offers.” Your new companion sinks to the armchair beside you, crossing on leg over the other before draping his cane overtop his knee. The slight movements have you staring intently at his lap against your will. It must be enough to pique his interest though, because that smirk returns to his lips. This time it’s accompanied by the teasing poke of his tongue at the edge of his mouth, pushing the skin just enough to leave you wanting more, and your heart rams mercilessly against the confines of your chest. “Is that still something you would like from me then?”
You wet your lips out of habit, a miniscule nervous tick and nothing more, but it betrays how affected you truly are. It’s stupid really — all he did was sit down and move the slightest bit, yet sweat is already beading your brow and you feel short of breath. And you’re supposed to somehow be able to handle three men just like this?
He bends at the waist, stretching across the space between your bodies, and you don’t even see him shift the cane in his lap before the end of it is caught under your chin. The cool metal has you jolting in your seat. He tilts your head up a hair, just enough to make you look him in the eye. The tension hanging in the air is almost palpable, and it’s suffocating enough to have your grip on the water glass loosening more by the second.
“Words are preferred when I ask questions of you, darling.”
#ateez smut#seonghwa smut#mingi smut#yeosang smut#ateez x reader#seonghwa x reader#mingi x reader#yeosang x reader#ateez imagine#ateez imagines#ateez oneshot#ateez oneshots#fic; undertow
179 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
youngsearch1988
Young Search
lotionlinda52
Application To Buy Bitcoin In Dubai
little-hentai-princess
Hentai Princess
thinner-in-texas
Failing to plan is planning to fail!
whencreativitystrikess
one of many art dumps