ᯓ ➤ WHEN THE PARTY IS OVER | JW (FT. JJK) | DRABBLE
synopsis: jackson wang has always been the party guy. but who is he when the party is over?
genre: jackson wang x reader (fem) x jungkook, crack, fluff, angst?
tags/warning: party host!jackson wang, awkward!jackson wang, two cutiepies having a talk, existential crisis, hurt and comfort kinda(?), bf!jungkook appears at some point
wc: 1.8k
a/n: dedicated to my employee of the month jackson wang and inspired by my dearest friend @words-in-purple who gave me this idea and this instagram reel. i feel bad for always making him the villain in my stories, and i feel like his cultural impact on the fanfiction world needs to be spoken about more. hence, this drabble! enjoy <3
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When people think of parties, they think of Jackson Wang.
He loves that. Being the person that everyone goes to when they need some way to get their minds off the real world. Being the “guy” that everyone refers to when they say, “Hey, I know a guy!”
It’s not too hard, if he’s being honest. All he has to do is secure a venue, book a killer DJ, and make sure that there’s alcohol everywhere. Then he sends out the date, time, location, and entrance fee to his friends, and tells them to tell their friends who will then tell their friends and so on.
Boom. A Jackson Wang party. People flock to him like crazy.
He doesn’t remember half the names of the people who come to his parties but that doesn't really matter when he’s surrounded by flashing lights and the gentle pulse of bass and drums. Slightly woozy from a few shots too many, arms over the shoulders of pretty girls, and his body lost in the music—he truly believes he can do it all day.
It’s addicting to him. Euphoric, even, in his otherwise mundane life.
Everyday, Jackson Wang wakes up to go to class to learn things he’ll forget in a week. He showers and sings songs no one will ever hear. Then he holds his nose and drinks a disgusting chicken-breast smoothie so he can get a six pack that people barely paid attention to.
He has learned to accept that he’ll live a terrifyingly ordinary life and live only a few moments of extraordinary joy.
But it’s in these moments—surrounded by the energy of youth and the thrum of nightlife—where he feels like his life is bursting with happiness.
This makes him realize that he’s a bit pathetic. Other people find happiness in achievements: getting good grades, landing an internship, or finally putting their little brother through school after working part-time jobs all their life.
How ridiculous is it that he simply found joy in sleazing around and having fun at parties? How shallow. How lame.
People may flock to him, but they never really get too close. And deep down, he knows why.
So when the party is over, and he is left with nothing but an empty warehouse venue with confetti and spilled drinks on the floor, wincing as the sun rises through the window, he feels lonely.
He’s sober now.
“Hey man, thanks for the gig.” The DJ dabs him up.
“Of course man. People loved your set.”
“Let me know if you got another one for me.”
“Aight. I’ll see you.” Jackson waves him off.
All that’s left is waiting for the cleaning lady to finish before dropping off the venue keys to their owner. He has a class to go to—he checks his watch—in four hours. Maybe he should skip. Or maybe he’ll go. If anyone can pull an all-nighter, it’s Jackson Wang.
“Um, excuse me?”
He turns around. Pretty girl. Looks lost. He smirks.
“Hey, are you here from the party?”
“Yeah, kinda.” You approach him with caution. “I’m trying to go home but my phone died so I can’t call for a ride. Do you have a portable charger by any chance?”
Oof. He does not, but he does know that someone left their charger plugged in somewhere by the bar.
“Uh, I think there’s a charger over there.” He points. “By the wine case. Opposite of the stage.”
“Oh gotcha, thank you.” You scurry over and find the outlet on the floor, crouching down to plug in your phone. Then you sit, leaning against the wall.
Cute. Like a little mouse. Jackson comes up to you.
“Mind if I sit with you?”
“Not at all.” You give a tired smile. Maybe the night has worn you out.
He sits next to you. “So why are you here all alone? The sun’s already up.” He gestures to the window, where pinkish hues of light are starting to shine through.
You laugh dryly. “Passed out in the bathroom. My friends thought I already went home.”
He winces. “That sounds unpleasant.”
“Yeah,” you snort. “My back is killing me. Toilets don’t make good beds, it turns out.” Your phone springs to life with one percent, and you hurry to open it.
He tries not to glance at your phone out of curiosity. You look familiar somehow, like he’s seen you before but just can’t put a finger on where.
“Did your friends not check up on you at all?”
“Well, to be fair, I have snuck out of parties to go home early before.” You look up from your phone having called for a ride. “I guess I can’t blame them too much. This was the first party I’ve come to in months.”
“I see,” he quips. “Is this your first Jackson Wang party?”
“Yep.” Then, as if realizing something, you whip your head to him. “No way. Could you be… Jackson Wang?”
“The man, the myth, the legend himself.” He can’t help but grin. “You must not go out often if you haven’t been to one of my parties until today.”
“Nope.” You shake your head. “I’m usually swamped in work, so I don’t get to go out much. And when I do, I get so tired that I’d rather be spending my free time sleeping. But I’ve heard a lot about your parties. Glad I got to come eventually.”
“Wait a minute.” Suddenly, he remembers where he saw you: on the homepage of the university website. You’re the girl who won some investment competition, bringing the university two trophies in one year. “Are you Y/N?”
“That’s me,” you say, smiling. “Heard of me before?”
He scoffs. “Everyone knows about you. They say our school hasn’t won a trophy in that competition for ten years until you came. You’re literally famous.”
“Says the number one party host in town.”
“Please, being a party host is not nearly as impressive as being the university’s golden star. At least you’re known for something actually cool,” he says it as a joke. Or he really means to, at least, but after four hours of jumping and screaming at the center of a mosh pit, it comes out more pitifully than he’d like. “I’m just some guy who picks out good DJs.”
You narrow your eyes. “C’mon. You’re way cooler.”
“No. Not really.” He just can’t stop yapping, can he? “Being a good party host doesn’t do me any good, really. You’ll probably land a good job and make lifelong connections with your skills. I’ll just be the guy who peaked in college.”
Aw crap. Did he say too much? Too emo, maybe?
“Don’t say that,” you start quietly. “I think you underestimate how important you are.”
He looks at you for a brave moment, surprised to find a fiery determination in your eyes.
“Your parties aren’t just a place for people to have fun. People truly connect here. I’ve had friends find the love of their life at your parties. And friends who never usually go out, always somehow feel comfortable going to your parties.” You don’t look away from him, unwavering. “No one feels unwelcome. Everyone wants to be friends with you. It takes real talent to be that kind of guy, you know?”
He doesn’t say anything, a little bit dumbfounded.
“Sure, my resume might be more competitive with the things I’ve achieved. But in ten—or even twenty years—no one’s going to remember little old me. They might vaguely remember some girl on the homepage of the university website and that’s it. But you? Gosh, I’m pretty sure that stories of your parties will be told on and on and on—to people’s families, friends, children, and maybe even grandchildren.”
Something blooms in his chest, aching in a good way. He’s never thought about it that way before.
“So don’t say those kinds of things about yourself,” you conclude. A playful smile graces your lips. “Give yourself credit where it’s due, party boy.”
He thinks about what he should say. Thank you? Wow, that means a lot to him? Actually, you kind of just cured his existential crisis and now he wants to cry in your arms?
“Type shit,” is what he ends up saying.
This makes him want to die a little bit. Just a little.
Luckily, you find him funny. “So on-brand,” you chuckle, shaking your head. You check your phone. “Looks like my ride is here.”
He follows you as you stand up. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Thanks, party boy.”
Have you always looked so pretty? He wonders this as you walk ahead of him, the light from outside practically forming a halo around your body. Outside, the sun has fully risen.
You tap your feet, looking around for your ride.
He thinks about whether or not he’ll see you again. He can’t count on you coming to another party. Definitely won’t place his bets on finding you in class; he barely goes. But perhaps that can change. Three hours until his morning lecture.
Maybe he won’t skip.
Still, he knows you’ll be gone soon. He needs to act fast. How about your phone number?
Yeah. He’ll ask for your phone number.
“Hey, uh…” Fuck, was he always so awkward? Too caught up in himself, he fails to notice your eyes flickering behind him, lighting up. “I was wondering if—”
“Jungkook!” you call. “Over here!”
Jackson turns around. Of fucking course it’s Jeon Jungkook, the guy every girl wants to be with, who comes to pick you up.
Relief washes over his face as he runs to you.
“You had me worried sick!” he says, scooping you up into a hug. “Baby, never go out with those girls again. I thought something bad happened to you.”
You giggle into his neck. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”
Jungkook’s eyes narrow at Jackson. He gulps. You notice.
“Oh, this is my boyfriend, Jungkook.” You gesture to him. “And Jungkook, this is Jackson. Jackson Wang,” you say, like his full name adds immeasurable context. “He helped me find a place to charge my phone.”
“I see.” He extends a hand, words clipped but polite. “Thanks for helping her out.”
Jackson takes it firmly. “No problem, man.”
He watches as you and Jungkook bid your goodbyes, waving as you walk to his car, a lovestruck smile on your face as he opens the door for you.
He laughs dryly, now standing all by himself outside the empty warehouse. Whenever the party is over, he feels lonely. This time, a little bit more so. He sighs.
He thinks he’ll skip his morning lecture, after all.
a/n: ngl this made me a bit emo. if u read this far, thank u sm for reading and i hoped u enjoyed! leave a love comment for jackson wang <3
