#”you also need to contact your insane ex and tell her she DOES have to keep paying rent which she will obviously receive well”

[alittleemo]

the lord is going to need to send me four different blessings to balance out the way this week is going 😍 like one is not enough brother

[jenyifer]

The Trainee Ep8 initial reaction.

You know the side couple side plot takes up so much screen time idk why the poster wasn’t with BahMee Tae and Judy in the center frame. In the time it’s taken for Jane to give Ryan a pair of shoes those three have gone on dates broken up and kissed. It’s insane. Anyways let’s do the photo review anyways.

At least we get cute dream sequence offgun. Hehe I enjoyed getting to see a fake Jane being happy and cute. Since judging by the pacing of Jane and Ryan’s couple I’m gonna be shocked if we get to see them go on a first actual date. We have two episodes until the end and…… idk we ain’t getting together fluff.

Such a loser move. Apparently she didn’t remember or care about that the night before. Also how slimey is that thinking you deserve anything after betraying someone’s trust. Just evil. Really Pah or Pie should have slapped that entitled brat.

I’m not into Bratty little cry baby cheaters. But I feel like that is actually judy’s type.

It is the next day. But I appreciate Pah and Pie being there for Tae. Tae is stronger than me there is no way I’d be going to a reservation I made for my ex the next day just too real that they won’t be there.

Also. If we wanted to make things feel connected I would have liked Ryan to have read the text about the break up isn’t he friends with Tae too? I know Ryan had to work but still I wish he had idk been included even if we saw a text just so we know he is part of their friend group.

^^^VERY TRUE what was tae supposed to do? Not work? He kept going over and beyond for her. She also was staying late with Judy. Judy works on weekends and late too over work over work. I don’t understand why BahMee didn’t get the picture. Pah has every right to be mean to her even though he is actually a sweetie and I think he could have been a lot meaner to the whiny baby cheater girl.

Jealous boy does jealous things. Very cute. Ryan’s friend was very touchy also Ryan himself was more talkative with his friend compared to ANYONE else. Ryan doesn’t really even talk to Pie that much no wonder Jane was concerned.

Some accidental prolonged hand contact. At least we got to see a little bit of Jane’s POV but if we are supposed to think overworking is what causes your partner to cheat then… things aren’t going to end well in this fucked up universe.

ON A HAPPIER NOTE how long has he had these shoes for Ryan? Since he tied them right? Or did Jane go out on his day off and buy them for Ryan? Idk either way is pretty cute even though it happened off screen. I can’t believe we are getting exchanging gifts at this stage. How scandalous haha jk jk Ryan has already given Jane gifts of cookies… so seems even? Hehehe

Bullshit. Also I hate him telling her it’s not her fault. It is. Repeat it with me folks. ONCE A CHEATER ALWAYS A CHEATER. I hope Tae finds his Prince Charming soon because he doesn’t deserve to be treated like trash for doing his job.

Nooooooooooooooooo we are getting Jealous Ryan ep next. So is the next episode going to end with a kiss or do we need to wait for ep 10 for them to acknowledge that they like eachother? Didn’t we already have a jealous ep for Ryan and Jane? Why do we have to do this plot device again. 😭 despite all of this the Trainee is still watchable so I suppose it has some thing over CC.

[freuleinanna]

Oh heyyy! I'm sorry for barging in, but I saw it today and I just couldn't unthink that! I hope you maybe like it <3 gif just for the vibes

Actors AU | Agatha and Rio are exes who have had a child together, lost a child together, and are now forced to work together again.

Word count: approx. 3000

Grief and trauma are a big theme, so is healing. Namedrops of the characters are irrelevant and are for fun. It's not a TV series meta, I just thought it would be hehe fonny. Social handle's made up too.

AO3 link

*********************************************

‘So, what can we expect in terms of, uh, in terms of the dynamics between the two of you?’

‘Ohhhhhhh, you know…’

‘I know, I do know! It’s too early in the stages and whatnot, but is there anything you can say? Are there any premises, any arcs for your characters already?’

A sly smile slithers across Rio’s lips. Agatha’s looking at her over her shoulder, unsure of what to say. The new project is all hushed up for now, of course.

‘I’m sensing some… hesitation here, ladies?’

Rio’s hand on her back, wrapping her hair around her finger in little curls. Eye contact, way too long. Fan-video-worth long. There’s a shitload of them all over the Internet, dubbed with the sappiest music and in-love-rose filter. Happy, happy.

‘Some insane shit, my guy,’ Rio finally chuckles.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Oh, I mean, full on. It’s, like, plot-wise it’s demon hoards, and religion, and bloody sacrifices…’

‘What?!’

There she goes.

‘…but really it’s a commentary on acceptance, on the grief of living in this insane world, and like, unreal amount of trauma dumping. Yeah.’

Deadpan. No expression, just making shit up. Agatha’s nodding along.

‘Right, hon?’

‘Oh, yeah!’

Something clicks, and she’s game. Rio’s fingers in her hair, and the feeling is so light, so generous, it bursts out of her with laughter.

‘So much trauma! Uh-huh, ‘cause I’ll be playing the sacrificial lamb, and you’re…’

‘I’m gonna be the demonic priest. So, there you have it.’

‘A wild ride, for sure.’

The audience is riled up. Applause come. They laugh. Cameras are rolling, forever imprinting happiness onto the lenses, every last bit of it. It is one of the last bits, actually. It’s going to spill her guts on the floor when @agatharioreallove tags her on a clip a year later (before the news comes out), showing their happy, loving faces from exactly that interview.

And then, a billion of sad, my-heart-is-breaking-for-them tags.

FUCK, she’ll be hollering in the emptiness of the living room, FUCK! Can’t you leave us the hell alone?! Fucking…

For cunt’s sake.

Our child is dead.

Our child is dead.

Fuck.

******

1 year later.

‘Thank you so much for showing up. I know it’s…’

The journalist is trying mad hard to be respectful, but also to still get a chewy piece.

‘How do you… How does one even do something like that?’

‘There’s a thing called contract, sweet cheeks.’

‘I mean, sure, but I’m… Wow, that was a raw thing to say.’

‘Things are raw.’

Awkward silence. There’s a glance over at the security guy, an unnerved tug at the collar.

‘What, do you expect us to murder each other live?’

‘Ha-ha.’

Nothing fucking funny about that.

‘I mean, everyone expected the project to get dropped, and… here you are, preparing to shoot. How was that? How was that decision made?’

Agatha’s hair in a tight bun, and she’s stroking a loose lock away from her face. Rio’s eyes are daggers. Agatha doesn’t need to look to know it.

How was it made?

Through cursing and screaming, that’s how. Kicking chairs across rooms. Throwing lamps at her agent, God bless her. Lilia’s a fucking saint draped in Sicilian shawl.

‘Aight.’

Rio fidgets, Agatha can hear it. Here’s the part she winces at, uncontrollably. Be a doll and think for a second, because you’re only not charged the lost potential value fee if you deliver the film by those scripts. What’s not clicking? And she wanted to tell that story. They both did, a love letter from parents to children. Who could’ve thought.

How was it made?

Rio’s hand perches to her shoulder, staying there like an all-too-familiar ghost. Spine tingles with rage.

‘It was hard. You can imagine…’

‘Sure… ’

‘…if you’re not an asshole. Are you?’

‘Oh, I’m—I’m not! I-- really--’

‘Good, then.’

Agatha’s dry chuckle is Oscar-worthy. She had bid a fortune on the script rights to buy them out, so she’s bound. And Rio? Rio’s completely went off the rails. Her brain train doesn’t even remember there were rails once. She’s lashed out so much she’s become a liability to everyone who has the displeasure of working with her. A bare-foot beggar in the woods is what she is without this film. So is Agatha, unfortunately. Two beggars clapping their naked ass-cheeks on the wind.

Unless they go through fucking hell.

With everybody watching.

Twenty minutes and gallons of constant internal vomit later, the interviewer stops the cameras, says goodbye, and leaves. Rio’s hand disappears. Agatha leans back and closes her eyes, waiting for another press-junket-junkie, back as straight as she’s never been.

Phone’s keyboard is spitting out quick, audible taps. Why, why does she always need to keep the sound on?

‘Fuck you.’

Agatha knows well that her voice has cracks in it. A decent amount of disdain too, she hopes. Taps are avalanching even quicker.

‘Aw, your first words to me. You haven’t been developing functional communication mechanisms, have you?’

Tap-tap-tap.

‘Go stand in the corner and die, Rio.’

‘Fuck you too.’

It’s so cold, she might have gotten frostbites. From their voices alone.

*********************

Table-reading / Rehearsals.

‘Okay, don’t be mad, but?..’

‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘It sucks balls. I’m sorry, but you just suck balls.’

‘I do no such thing, ever.’

Teen’s face wrinkles with worry. Billy, Bobby, Tommy, Toby? Whatever. He’s a teen, so, he’s Teen. A plucky assistant, and a huge pain in her moral ass.

‘Could you maybe… Cunty filter off, okay?’

‘Ugh, Teen.’

Still, Agatha’s looking this twig of a kid over, feeling worry build in the ruins of her insides.

‘What else are they saying?’ She smirks with venom. ‘Besides our chemistry being off?’

‘Basically, that it’s a Mariana Trench of flaming shit, but that it still has to be done.’

She nods, un-amused. Yeah, otherwise it’s another pile of fees, liabilities, script ownership debates, the whole petty army of Hollywood law-humpers on her back. Teen is slurping on his… blue-colored god-knows-what. Then stops, under her glare.

Rio’s afar, in the distance. Like she’s always been since… Well. Since Nicky.

‘I can’t,’ Agatha whispers before she can stop it, and clutches at her coat nervously, realizing she’s said it aloud. There’s something strangely calming in a way Teen avoids touching her, but remains just behind her shoulder, listening softly. ‘I can’t, I—I can’t.’

‘Can’t what?’

She shakes her head. Rio’s there. So is anger, so is hurt, so is everything scorching, manifesting in her oh-so-loved-once face. So is missing her fingers curling up her hair. But more, still anger.

‘I can’t say those things. The script. Not in a meaningful way. Not when--’

‘How else are you supposed to say it?’

‘Huh?’

Her comforting assistant steps from one foot to another, then lowers himself to the level of her chair. His voice crackles with nerves. His shadow supports hers. He’s saying things Agatha never wants to hear, because Nicky died, but the script brings her and Rio into a nightmare of a centuries-old witch and Death incarnate battle over a child’s soul.

‘You’ve lived them. How else are you supposed to say those things? You’ve lived them.’

Happy videos of their faces, laced fingers, loving gazes during the interview. Sad montages and thousands of close-ups of them visibly drawing away from each other at the hint of a touch. Hurting like the sun, spilling red while falling to the doom. Fuck.

‘Why don’t you go fuck yourself with a straw, huh?’

‘Sure. Okay.’

*******************************

Shooting: Day whatever, because at this point, everyone’s frustrated.

‘Oh, shit.’

‘Is she drunk?’

‘Fucking impossible— Somebody get Vidal in her trailer!’

‘Do we keep a setup?’

‘For fuck’s-- ’

‘That’s a PR nightmare.’

‘She’s not gonna sober up, is she?’

‘Not before she vomits half her stomach down the sewers, she’s not. Un-fucking-believable. Can somebody get Harkness?’

‘She’s gonna kill her.’

‘Maybe don’t tell her, smartass?’

‘She’s gonna know, and then she’s gonna kill her.’

‘What a mess.’

‘Leave it, just… everything, leave it. And get Alice to Jen for make-up. We’re gonna reschedule her scenes for today.’

‘What an A-list crap-pile on meth.’

****************

When Rio sobers up, it’s not entirely clear whether she’s dead or not, but she thinks, well. Either way there are hook-bladed daggers buried in her body, tugging in all directions at once. Hangover or hell, not much difference.

The hardest of daggers, the sharpest and most resilient one, turns out to be a scythe. And it’s in Agatha’s eyes.

‘Alive?’

A familiar voice makes the bells toll. Deep tonality of disappointment, the one which roots in hurt and blooms with blame, is a homesick sound.

‘Unfortunately so.’

‘Good. I need you alive for being skinned by the crew tomorrow.’

‘Gee,’ she croaks. ‘Sounds hot.’

Managing to pull herself into a sitting position, Rio wipes her mouth.

‘I kinda hoped I’ll just black out for the rest of the shooting. No luck, then.’

All signs are there: Agatha’s trembling hands, the way she keeps gesticulating with her whole palms in frustration. Her hateful stare, of course. There’s a storm coming. Hurricane Harkness, ready to pour molten steel. Rio sneers, taking it.

‘Come on, I know you have words.’

‘God, you’re a bitch.’ That, Agatha says with her whole chest without missing a beat, as though grateful for a convenient way of spitting some of the pain out. Those words unlock her frustrated lips. ‘Why. Seriously, why now? Neither of us wanted to do it. We’ve gone through a minefield, got fucked in the ass by every interviewer ever with a hot poker and a sympathy lube. Why not just… Do it and be gone, huh? Rio? Just one fucking movie. Why the fuck do you need to act up now?’

‘Because now, it hurts.’

And Agatha’s eyes dart away in a habit so shivery and familiar, it burns Rio’s chest worse than years of mutual blame. The woman who’s never been her wife, the woman who’s shared a son with her; now the woman who’s been so enraged, so devastated, so focused on her own irreplaceable loss that she couldn’t bring herself to look at Rio’s. Because, what if she recognizes the same pain?

People are fucking nutjobs.

‘It hurts, Agatha,’ Rio repeats quietly, with careful weight placed on each word. ‘Because I lost him too, and I didn’t get to live through my pain. I was handling yours.’

‘Oh, please.’

‘Guess it’s catching up on me.’

Hangovers don’t gently break your ribs, Rio knows. So it must be something else, like truth. Agatha’s disbelieving fury is war-like.

‘What, you got a different story?’ Rio teases, despite desperately wanting not to. Don’t tip the scale, thoughts echo, why are you like that? Why are you doing this? Why now?

Because. It. Hurts.

‘You left, Rio. When I needed you the most, you left.’

‘Needed me?’

‘And now you’re strutting back to, what exactly? Give your feelings a performance?’

‘You’ve shut me out.’

Heavy breathing. Some metallic croaking in the voice.

‘I’ve?--’

‘You’ve scolded me out. You’ve frozen me out, Agatha. You needed a space to grieve and you locked the fucking door beh--’

She stops abruptly. Draws air to say the only thing that mattered.

‘I was alone.’ I was grieving, and you couldn’t look at my face. I was grieving, and your own grief was just too big to notice mine. ‘Suppose I’d stayed. With all the time in the world, would you have hated me less?’

She sees locks of Agatha’s hair swing, heartbreakingly beautiful. Always the little things that destroy you.

‘I didn’t hate you.’

‘No?’ It’s cruel to smile. The alternative is weeping.

‘No.’

‘You sure hid it well, then.’

‘Rio, I--’

It’s a muscle memory, alright. Bodies remembering how to intertwine, how to save each other from loneliness. Hands reaching out. Breath aching to get mixed. It almost, almost happens. The warmth of it flees just before a newer, colder habit kicks in, which isn’t completely unlike cutting through arteries of hope drying in the air.

The woman Rio’s engraved into her lungs yanks them out with her need to blame someone, anyone, and walks away, still holding them.

‘I can’t, I—Don’t do that to me.’

‘I’m not doing anything.’

‘I can’t.’

‘I know.’

A beat of silence.

‘I’m done, Agatha.’ Rio smirks, broken. ‘You win. From now on, I’ll be on my best behavior.’

Agatha Harkness, an unbearable load-mouth and a genius pervert with cussing, bites her tongue and leaves. Rio feels like Death.

***************************************

Shooting: Pivotal day.

The day everyone remembers, but nobody talks about.

And then—Life.

Not at once, and not beautiful. Life isn’t a fragile flower blossoming out of nowhere. Life is actually someone’s gooey remains, definitely someone’s shit at some point, and there’s nothing fragile about it. It fights and claws, but given time, it overcomes people and buildings alike. It grows. It grows.

Given time, it stops running from the dirt whence it came, and starts reaching down with roots to accept the unthinkable.

Flowers fallen out of Agatha’s hair are white. Her hands are covered in fresh soil. Streaming down her face, tears bitter and gentle.

‘Please, my love!’

Death stops before a weeping mother. Cameras are rolling, Rio’s mind has completely switched off. Everything’s blank. Pulsating sounds in her ears are ringing with the remnants of please, my love – and Agatha’s horrifying expression. Something bruised and raw from familiarity, with which it comes.

Death – or Rio – shouldn’t rage against her helplessness. Death takes children, after all, it’s a known fact. Sometimes, it’s just… It’s just unfair. And sometimes, even Death – and Rio – can’t take being the reason for such heartbreak.

‘I can offer--’ she starts. Then, ‘No.’

Some muttering, well-earned, is heard from behind.

‘I can offer only time,’ someone whispers, reminding her of the line.

‘I know,’ she says. Then again, ‘No.’

Agatha’s face is shaded with concern.

‘What are you?--’

‘I can’t offer time.’

Taking up the skirts of her dress, Rio steps forward, toward her. Agatha draws back. Agatha the actor is wrecking her nails against stone, trying to fight Agatha… Rio’s Agatha.

‘Boys die.’

Rio nearly chokes on those words, and still it isn’t as bad as Agatha’s reaction. Invisible to anyone who’s not close enough, anger, bitterness, and grief birth real tears, instantly hot over the camera ones. But Rio is close, isn’t she? She is. For the first time in what feels like centuries of roaming wild, she’s actually there.

‘Boys die,’ she whispers, ‘and it’s never fair, but they do. And there isn’t time enough to heal that pain.’

‘Stop this.’

‘I can’t bring him back…’

‘I’m serious, Rio, stop this!’

‘…because I haven’t taken anything.’

She burns her fingers on Agatha’s face, yet it’s still worth touching it.

‘It’s not your fault, it’s not mine either.’

‘We loved him.’

Thousands of clips all over the Internet, of them showing off their happiness.

Aww, they’re the best parents <3

I NEED them to be my parents!!!

Sweet music.

Heart emojis.

Wait, are they actually raising a kid together???????

Talking about Nicky.

Talking, talking, unable to contain that joy.

And on that, Agatha breaks. Her lips twitch with a sob. Rio’s on the ground beside her, holding her face in a way that urges to listen. And her Agatha, not the character or the actor, is crying into her open palm.

‘I wanted more time. I just wanted more time, that’s all, I--’

‘We loved him so much that it… broke something, when he died.’

‘How can…’ From under closed eyes, more grief. Then a gaze so piercingly blue, it staggers Rio with ferocity of color. ‘How can I live with that? How can you live with that? How does everything not remind you of him, huh? How are you not – so – angry? Why – were you not – angry?’

Nobody could have possibly thought they’re ad-libbing. Yet nobody intervened, bless the fools. In the shadow of Rio’s face, Agatha’s darkened eyes glint almost purple.

‘I needed you to be angry, along with me. I needed you to be fucking furious about his death, and you just…’

‘Accepted it.’

Rio nods, and feels her own tears, warm and heavy like August rain. Some of them drop of Agatha’s hands. Their hands and their tears come together.

‘Because, Agatha,’ she’s barely resisting the sobbing herself. Perhaps, that’s how Death feels. Rio nods with heartbreak and compassion, and inevitability they bring. ‘Because, Agatha, boys die.’

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that they do, and there’s nothing I could do about it, but I forgot that people die too, from suffering. We almost died, too, right next to each other.

Agatha’s chest is heaving with breath. She’s fighting against Rio’s hands, and then she’s holding them, and then her arms are pressing Rio closer with all their strength.

‘I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ For not listening. For being angry with you, because you weren’t ready to accept. For not fully understanding. For lashing out. For leaving.

‘I didn’t—I—I’m sorry,’ for not acknowledging your loss. For needing my fury so much, I thought I’d stopped needing you. For blaming you.

And suddenly flowers bloom.

Not literally, of course, but they bloom in how Agatha’s fully sobbing into the crook of Rio’s neck. They also bloom in how Rio’s holding her: gently, stroking her back all the while. Wrapping little curls of hair around her fingers. Most of them bloom on their lips as they touch skin. Blessing, apologizing, healing.

Desperation and trauma are flowing up, up, toward grief and by it, up again, to the bright-red rage, around the gigantic ill-intentioned walls, over broken pieces of good memories thrown against it, toward air. Toward breathing.

Toward love,

and having spent years half-severed only to find that each deconstructed piece still fits perfectly as you hold each other tight,

and even toward kissing the salt.

Toward, it seems, life.

Because it’s always the cycle, isn’t it?

Out of death, life.

Actor au where they are exes who had a kid together but never got married but then the kid died(because i hate happy people) then they are forced to work with each other and drama ensue

[queenshelby]

Roommates – Part Ten

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 3,600

Warning: Angst, Pregnancy, Smut

Note: This plays in 2020.

It was still rainy and stormy outside, but you didn’t care. You needed the fresh air on your face more than anything else right now as you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

You walked besides the shore until, eventually, you found a sheltered area besides one of the old seaside castles where you sat down to think.

There was certainly a lot of thinking to be done and, eventually, you reached the conclusion that, what you should do now, is support your friend just as he had supported you following your breakup with James. Your friendship lasted for 12 years so far and now wasn’t the time to end it, nor was there any reason to do so.

But where did it leave you and the fact that you did what you swore to yourself you would never do. You had been intimate with Cillian and that, in your mind, was wrong now that you knew what you knew about Laura.

But why was it wrong, you then went to ponder on? What made it wrong, you wondered? Cillian and Laura were no longer together and, as far as you knew, Cillian never mislead her into thinking that he wanted a serious relationship with her. You knew it was a common theme and argument between them and, at least from his point of view, there were no feelings involved. So why shouldn’t you be with him now?

Of course, you realised fairly quickly that the reason that you should stay away from Cillian was Laura. She is your friend too and she is still hurt and wants him back, no matter how futile her desires and attempts to be with him might be. But does this mean you should deny yourself? After all, it’s been 12 years which it took you to get this far. It’s not that you had ever contemplated to sleep with Cillian, but you certainly were drawn to him now and, therefore, would you be a bad friend if you continued to be intimate with him?

Eventually, you reached the conclusion that the answer to your question was probably yes. Both, you and Cillian, found yourselves in a moral dilemma and, whilst you both slipped once and let your desires for each other get the better of you, it couldn’t happen again. That, of course, was unless the moral compass of the situation changed which made you wonder how it got so far in the first place.

***

When you arrived back home, you saw Cillian in the kitchen, making a cup of coffee and, whilst he acknowledged you, he was silent and waited for you to ask what you wanted to ask.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that Laura is pregnant?’ you eventually blurted out, causing Cillian to sigh heavily.

‘Because I promised her that I would not tell anyone until she had her first scan’ Cillian explained almost frustrated.

‘She hasn’t had a scan yet? Cillian, uhm, this is a lot to take in’ you observed and he nodded.

‘Not as far as I know’ Cillian then huffed out, causing you to walk over towards him and grab hold of both of his shoulders.

‘Listen Cillian, I don’t care what happened between you and I know said I would stay out of it, but she does need your support with this. You can’t just ignore the fact that you have a child on the way with her’ you said rather harshly, causing Cillian to break down in emotions.

‘What do you think I’ve been doing Y/N, eh?’ Cillian huffed out before one curse after another left his mouth.

‘She doesn’t fucking let me. I want to be part of the pregnancy and support her, not just financially but also emotionally. I want to be a father to this child but she just cuts me out. According to her, unless I get back together with her, I won’t be having any partake in this’ Cillian explained with a heavy heart as his eyes began to tear up.

‘Oh my god Cillian, I am sorry, I didn’t know’ you said surprised by Laura’s action before comforting him.

‘It’s alright. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wanted to stay out of it. I didn’t want to put you into this difficult position you are now in and I also knew that you had your own shit to deal with’ Cillian said, referring to your breakup with James.

‘Have you at least been able to communicate with her doctor? Or her? Anything at all?’ you then asked and Cillian shook his head.

‘No, nothing. I’ve been talking to her but she isn’t telling me much. She changes the topic and then goes on about all this shit that happened between us instead. I don’t even know how far along she is. I tried to get her in with a good obstetrician at Rotunda Hospital, but she hasn’t even made contact with the doctor nor is she registered at the maternity ward. I don’t fucking know what else to do and when I spoke to my lawyer about it, he told me that I can’t do anything until the child is born’ Cillian explained almost shattered.

‘Jesus Cillian…oh my god’ you said before asking him whether he knew about the pregnancy when he broke up with her and, as you had expected, he confirmed that he didn’t. But, little did you know that you just then and there opened up another can of worms.

‘She planned this Y/N, which makes it even more fucked up than it already is’ Cillian chuckled, unsure whether he should laugh or cry about the entire situation.

‘What do you mean she planned this?’ you asked curiously.

‘She had her implant removed without telling me, which is the real reason I ended it. I know she is your friend, but she’s fucking insane’ Cillian huffed out.

You were unsure what to make of Cillian’s comment and asked him to elaborate which is when he finally told you everything that you never wanted to know about their breakup.

According to Cillian, after the night him and Laura shared with Lindsay, which was something Laura organised, Laura became rather jealous and possessive.

Whilst there was no truth to it, Laura believed that Cillian was seeing Lindsay behind her back and that Lindsay was the reason he wouldn’t commit to her. The truth was that, according to Cillian, he never intended to commit to Laura because he simply didn’t think that this was what he wanted. At the time, his divorce with Danielle was going through settlement proceedings and committing to Laura was something that couldn’t do.

You recalled the arguments in the past and Laura pressuring Cillian to make a commitment which he outright told her he wasn’t willing to make.

‘Things had gone too far and she contacted my mother, introducing herself to her. She texted my sister and brother continuously, asking for my whereabouts when I was visiting Cork. She went through my phone checking for messages from other women. Things like that. It became relentless and she knew I was close to ending it. Little did I know that she had a plan in mind to make me stick around’ Cillian chuckled.

‘So, what made you think that she went off birth control behind your back? Did she actually admit to it?’ you then asked, causing Cillian to nod.

‘The bruise on her arm and the fact that the bulge from it under her skin was gone, gave it away. First, I didn’t think anything of it but when she did all this crazy stuff, I asked her about it and she admitted that she had, in fact, removed it. She wanted to make me stay by falling pregnant. How fucked up is that?’ Cillian then huffed out and you were shocked.

You didn’t expect that your friend Laura would ever do such a thing, going behind Cillian’s back to fall pregnant and make him commit.

Of course, after he’s been your friend for 12 years you believed him and he was quite obviously emotionally shattered by the situation.

‘So, when did you find out that she was pregnant?’ you wondered.

‘Two weeks later she texted me’ Cillian huffed out before continuing on. ‘She also texted Lindsay who then contacted me. After Laura had harassed her for weeks, she was obviously quite aware of the situation’ Cillian explained.

‘So, you decided to fuck her again? Not a smart move Murphy’ you laughed, causing Cillian to laugh as well.

‘Yeah, I think that was a mistake but I was in a pretty fucked up place at the time and Lindsay just stuck around and listened. I couldn’t really tell anyone else. Firstly, it’s fucking embarrassing and I still don’t know how I am going to explain this to any of my family. Secondly, I promised Laura and, despite of what happened between us, you know why I kept this promise right?’ Cillian said.

‘Yes, I do’ you responded, remembering the suffering Cillian’s ex-wife Danielle had to endure throughout 12 unsuccessful cycles of IVF and miscarriages, being the reason that her and Cillian never had any children together even after having been married for ten years.

With that in mind, you felt awful for your friend. You knew how much he wanted to have children for so many years and you realised that, despite his problems with Laura, he would probably be quite excited going through the pregnancy with her and be a father to his child if she would let him. He wanted to be involved and he wanted to be there for her, but he didn’t want to be with her.

‘Listen, I will talk to Laura, alright? I will try and convince her to let you be involved without forcing you to commit to her’ you suggested, holding onto Cillian’s hands.

‘You said that you won’t get involved in anything between Laura and me and I promised you to keep you out of it’ Cillian then said.

‘I know, but you’ve been my friend for 12 years and, after all the shit we have been through together, we will get through this too, right?’ you said with a warm smile.

‘Thank you. You are amazing you know that?’ Cillian said, finally smiling again.

‘I know’ you winked. ‘Despite, that’s just what friends do right? They help each other out’ you said with a warm smile before, without giving it another thought, giving Cillian a kiss.  

Surprised, he gave into the kiss which was gentle and warm.

‘Is that what friends do too?’ he then chuckled when your lips drifted apart.

‘Only under the added benefit scheme introduced into solid friendships as part of this lockdown relief package’ you smirked before pressing your lips back onto his.

Your reservations had gone completely after talking to Cillian about what happened and, whilst you knew you that you were betraying your friend Laura, you found it difficult to sympathise with her at this very moment.

‘So, is this what you want then, despite everything that has happened?’ Cillian asked after you each caught a breath.

‘Yes, I think so. We both have needs and we trust each other, it just makes sense, right?’ you said in order to justify your decision and Cillian couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Makes total sense’ Cillian laughed before continuing on. ‘I learned from my mistakes Y/N and I was very careful with Lindsay, but not so careful with you last night because, apart from my family, you are probably the person I trust the most in this world. You are most defiantly on the pill though, right?’ Cillian asked somewhat concerned.

‘Oh please, Cillian. Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t want to use you as a breeding bull’ you laughed, causing him to raise one of his eyebrows. ‘Yes, I am on the pill and never forgot a single one in over ten bloody years’ you then reassured him and, without any sort of warning, he crashed his lips back onto yours.

Your tongues met as he tangled one hand in the back of your hair, kissing you furiously.

‘I felt as though you held back last night’ you huffed out as your lips drifted apart. ‘Don’t hold back! Just fuck me!’ you then said, pulling him close again after he pulled his own t-shirt over his head while you removed yours.

‘I was just testing the waters Y/N’ he smirked before he pulled down your jeans eagerly while, at the same time, your hands went to his jeans and blessedly released his throbbing cock.

‘And I am not sure if I want you to see this side of me yet’ he then smirked, causing you to raise your eyebrows in return.

‘And what side is that Cillian?’ you giggled before whispering into his ear ‘show me your real kinky and filthy side.’

‘Soon, very soon’ Cillian then said before he kissed you again, hard and fast before both of you lost your jeans completely somewhere on the kitchen floor and Cillian lifted you up to sit on the kitchen table. He was much more forceful this time around and you quite enjoyed it.

Within one swift move, he unclasped your bra and thew it to the side before his hands rested on your breasts. You gasped as he shuffled down sufficiently to kiss each of them and close his mouth around a rigid pierced nipple. He pulled on it with his teeth and bit onto slightly, making you cry out.

At the same time, Cillian’s moved to in between your legs which were spread apart by his thighs as he was standing in front of you.

‘Fucking hell Y/N. What have you been thinking about, huh? You are fucking soaking’ he groaned as he observed that you were extremely wet already.

‘About you fucking me of course’ you giggled as Cillian brought his soaking wet fingers to your mouth.

‘Show me how fucking good you taste’ he instructed, making you taste yourself and you, of course, complied with his request and licked his fingers clean. But, when he watched you do this and felt your tongue piercing press against his fingers, he couldn't take it anymore.

‘Spread your legs wider’ he instructed as he pulled his hand away from your mouth and took hold of his rigid member, aiming it towards the dripping nirvana in front of him.

He knew he was rushing things, and as much as he wanted to take you, he couldn't if you weren’t ready. Your intense gaze held a mixture of the smirk and the desire.

‘Cillian, please shove your cock inside me already’ you then whined and, without a word, he plunged into you.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, you are so tight’ Cillian groaned while his eyes screwed shut as soon as your tight pussy had engulfed him, and he couldn't tell your groans apart from his own.

Good god, he felt amazing, so fucking amazing you couldn't move, completely paralysed with pleasure.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned eventually as he hovered over you, propped up against the table, his cock buried in your pussy and his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You could vaguely hear voices from the TV in the other room over the sound of your shuttering breath, but it had no more meaning than anything else in the world that wasn't currently inside of you. And that was Cillian.

‘Who would have thought that we would ever fuck, eh’ Cillian observed as he thrusted in and out of you, slow at first and then with increased speed and force, Cillian began to slightly pinch your nipples. That broke your paralysis and you wiggled and moaned in pleasure, making him fuck you harder and deeper. Cillian’s mouth eventually found your neck and ear as he began to pivot in and out of you, relishing just how tight and wet you were.

‘Crazy I know…but also so damn good’ you moaned his name and he picked up his pace again. You swore under your breath and Cillian slid a hand in between your legs to rub your clit and play with your clitoral piercing the way he had watched you do it before.

‘Fuck, that’s it, Cillian’ you moaned and then, you came, whimpering and shuddering, as Cillian watched the ecstasy pass through the delicate features of your face. He continued stroking you gently as you rode out your climax and only stopped when you gripped his wrist with your hand.

‘Too sensitive’ you huffed out, causing Cillian to smirk and, only when you pressed your hands against Cillian’s chest, he reluctantly pulled out of you.

But he wasn’t done with you yet and, before you knew it, he pulled you off the table and spun you around.

Willingly, you leaned forward, your face pressing against the hard wood of the kitchen table while you spread your legs widely, allowing him better access to your wet mound.  

It didn’t take him long to line himself up with your entrance and, as the lips of your wet pussy parted to receive the head of his cock, he could hear you moan over the drumming rain outside. You immediately pushed back against him, forcing him inside of you a little deeper.

‘That’s it, push back against my cock’ Cillian instructed as he loved seeing your figure arched with pleasure before him and his cock buried inside you. What on earth was he missing out on for twelve years, he wondered?

The first loud rumbles of the thunder outside drowned out the first fleshy slaps of his thighs against your ass as he started to pump himself in and out of the wet grip of your pussy. The feeling of pleasure on his cock was so exquisite that for a moment he could not contain the urge to pound you harder.

‘Oh god yes, Cillian fuck me’ you moaned as he thrust deeper and faster into you, enjoying the feel of you hungrily pressing against him.

‘You like being taken like this don’t you? Pinned down and fucked hard?’ Cillian groaned as your moans had become loud enough now to be heard over the storm raging outside.

‘Yes, oh god yes, Cillian, please don’t stop’ you screamed out as you could feel another orgasm building as he pumped away.

By this point, Cillian’s cock was also screaming for release and you crying out beneath him didn’t help his urge to cum.

‘Harder’ you cried out and Cillian began to piston into you with rapid sharp strokes. You dug your nails into the table to brace against the pounding as Cillian drilled you as hard as he could.

Just as he continued to thrust in and out of you, he reached one of his hands between your legs to massage your clit again. The hard slap of his body against your tight ass was loud and he felt the sweat prickling on his body. The scent of your sex was filling the kitchen and, before long, your moans turned to gasps and little sharp cries of pleasure and Cillian felt your body shudder against his as you came.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes fuck, yes’ you shouted out as your second orgasm washed over you and you indulged in the pleasure he gave you by calling out his name.

‘Jesus Y/N, fuck’ Cillian groaned as his balls tingled with his own building climax. Cillian pulled you back into him by the hips and thrust as deeply into your pussy as he could as the first waves of his orgasm broke.

The eruption was intense. The spasms of pleasure were joined with the satisfying feeling of spurts of his semen flooding deep into your body. He kept pumping, though now slowly, even after the pulsing in his crotch subsided.

You sighed your contentment. The feel of your pussy milking the last drops from his now hyper-sensitive cock was delightful torture and Cillian groaned almost in agony.

You giggled and lifted your body up and, as you did so, Cillian’s cock slipped free of the embrace of your pussy.

‘So fucking sexy, leaking all my cum from your pussy’ Cillian then observed as he ran one of his fingers through your mound again, collecting some of his semen before guiding it up to your mouth.

‘Hmm, I like the way you taste. Took me only 12 years to find out’ you grinned as you suggestively licked his cum from his fingers.

‘I didn’t ever think that this would actually happen, seeing my cock inside you’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Tell me about it’ you said before giving Cillian a quick kiss. ‘By the way, nice dirty talk, I like it’ you then smirked, being rather surprised by your friend’s dirty vocabulary.

‘You’ve heard nothing yet’ Cillian said as he was getting dressed again.

‘Coffee?’ you then asked before walking over towards the coffee machine completely naked, wiggling your butt on full display.

‘Uhm sure, thanks’ Cillian laughed before putting his briefs back on and sitting down at the table while he watched you still somewhat in disbelieve.

***

After you got on with your chores and tasks for the day, you decided to finally call Laura to have this difficult conversation with her.

But, she didn’t pick up any of your calls and, instead, sent you a text message.

‘Can’t talk right now’ was all it said.

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[sugaxjpg]

ghosts just wanna have fun; m

⤷  When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Psychic!AU & MedSchool!AU

✓ Filed under: fluff, crack (so many ghost puns), light smut (and jungkook being a nervous virgin) 

✓ Words: 20,062

Author’s Note: In which Jungkook is able to see spirits, but it’s just Taehyung and Yoongi giving him dating tips because he sucks at talking to girls. Hope you guys like it, because it has been on my WIPS for over a year and a half and I can’t believe it’s finally out there... emotional, really.

Also, huge thanks to @storytaeme​, who proof-read this mess like a champ. 

 There aren’t many embarrassing situations that can overcome the fact that Jeon Jungkook found out about his psychic abilities as he was about to lose his virginity. 

To say the least, that hadn’t been the most pleasant of scenarios to open the pathway to the afterlife. Really, there was no casual way that he could justify the scream that broke from his lips, or the dramatic spin he took as he turned around on the bed — which, ultimately, had him falling into the small space between the nightstand and the wall, with his legs up in the air, and his butthole fully exposed for both planes of existence to see. 

Still, that hadn’t been the worst part. If those two pallid silhouettes had merely disappeared once he had seen them, it wouldn’t have been as traumatic — perhaps Jungkook could have found a semi-believable excuse about what he had witnessed — but no. Not only did the ghosts remain there, with their arms crossed before their achromatic clothes and eyebrows slightly raised in expectation, they continued their conversation as if nothing had happened. 

“Oh, he was definitely going to put it in the wrong hole,” the shorter of the two murmured, clearly entertained at the idea. 

The other scoffed. “What if he did?” he threw back. “Maybe he likes that, we can’t judge.”

Truth was that, one way or another, Jungkook couldn’t even figure out what he liked — he didn’t even get the chance. He was gone from his (ex) girlfriend’s place before his brain could even attempt to construct a plausible explanation, even less to digest what had preceded that unfortunate revelation. Now, the wrong hole would forever be a source of trauma for him. 

And the problems didn’t exactly stop there. Ever since his cherry-popping session was interrupted, Jungkook hadn’t been able to move further than the first base, thinking that he would embarrass himself all over again or, worse, be frightened by a random demon passing by. Also, the constant mockery of his ghostly counterparts certainly didn’t help his concentration. 

The worst part? Helping Jungkook was kind of their whole point. And they couldn’t even do that right. 

Taehyung and Yoongi were their names — they told him right after the first night he saw them. Jungkook didn’t know what had happened in the afterlife that they had been punished with such a horrendous mission and, frankly, at that point, he was too afraid to ask. 

“But I don’t need your help,” Jungkook had said after one particularly bad date, dramatically throwing himself onto his bed. The furniture creaked under his weight and he wondered if it would snap before his mind did. “I just want you to leave me alone or, I don’t know, help me with something else — something useful.”

The two ghosts were by his desk, looking at his class notes and, at that comment, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Useful? Like what?” He asked. 

“I don’t know, solving crimes or something,” Jungkook mumbled, turning around so he would face the wall. God, he just needed two seconds alone. 

Behind him, Taehyung laughed. “You don’t even know how to open a bra, and you're out there thinking of reopening cold cases? Give me a break.” 

“Ouch,” Jungkook whispered. Maybe another time, it would’ve hurt his pride a bit more. That night, however, he was too tired to care. “For your information, I do know how to open a bra. You two just started whispering and it distracted me.” 

“We were whispering to you the instructions on how to open a bra,” Yoongi responded. “Would you need those if you knew what you were doing? No.” 

Jungkook sighed. “I just—”

“This conversation is done, we went over this already.” Yoongi interrupted. “You need us, whether you want it or not. You’re painfully bad at romance, Jungkook, even worse at initiating sex. I’ve never seen something like that before.” 

At that, Jungkook rolled on the bed and faced them. There was only one light in his bedroom that was on — the table lamp — and its clear orange shade passed through them both in an odd mixture of contours and lines. “Maybe if I could do it myself, without you two buzzing around the place, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he responded, aggressive. 

“Calm down. You were already bad enough when we arrived,” Taehyung told him, leaning over to see all the scattered pages on his desk. He frowned once he saw something he couldn’t quite understand, and quickly turned away from it. “Nothing changed much.” 

“Right!” Jungkook sat up on the bed. “Isn’t that enough of a sign for you two to stop trying to help me, then?” 

“No,” Yoongi said calmly. “That’s a sign that we have to try harder. And so do you.” 

He sneered. “I absolutely don’t.” 

“Yes, you absolutely do,” he said. “You know what? Grab your phone and get yourself a date with that girl you like from physiology class. Two weeks from now.” 

There was a second of silence as Jungkook’s mind struggled to piece the idea together. He wasn’t even sure about who Yoongi was referring to, there were a lot of girls in his class. “What? Why?” 

“Just trust us. She’s into you,” Yoongi spoke. 

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’ll work out.” 

Jungkook scoffed. “When does it, really?” 

“This time, it will,” Taehyung said. “Really. Do it.” 

“Fine.” He breathed out, reaching for his phone. “What girl?” 

Yoongi looked him up and down. “You know what girl.” 

With a deep breath, Jungkook scrolled over his contact list, struggling to find someone that he would have even the slightest chance with. Truth was, he has no fucking clue of which one of the hundred and fifty people in his class would even look in his direction, much less go on a date with him. 

“You do know… right?” Taehyung asked, clearly worried. “We can’t really give you names, but you… know, right?” 

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah! Sure I do!” Jungkook laughed nervously, clicking on a random name and opening a chat. “Here, I’m sending her a text right now. No reason to worry… no reason at all.” 

“Good,” Yoongi said, distracted. “Now, if you need us, we’ll be watching Gone Girl with your neighbors. We already missed the start of the movie, and I’m pissed off as it is.”

Taehyung nodded. “Amazing movie,” he said. Jungkook pressed send and prayed for the best. “We should have more movie nights over here.” 

 Yoongi said something in agreement and, in a second, they were already gone. Jungkook was left alone in his bedroom, with the light of his lamp casting over his features the desperation that he was feeling inside. 

“This better work,” he mumbled to himself. “You two better not be trying to embarass me.”

_____________

And then, two weeks later, Yoongi and Taehyung were laughing at him as his last failed attempt at romance got up from her chair and basically ran away from him.

Yoongi leaned back against the chair, his ankles crossed over the large table. If someone else could see him then, he surely would have received a few complaints about keeping the mall under semi-sanitary conditions. “Jungkook, I’ll tell you something,” he started, clearly amused. “You’re so bad at romance that I wish I was alive just so I could punch some reason into you.”

Taehyung, who had stayed mostly quiet during the painfully awkward interaction, walked beside Jungkook and chuckled at his distress. Still, he was focused on the other ghost, and the implication of his speech. “That amount of violence is the exact reason why you’re no longer alive, Yoongi,” he pointed out, then turned to Jungkook before he could smirk at the reprehension. “But really, that was awful. If I weren’t spiritually tied to you, I would’ve given up by now. You’re hopeless.”

“Completely out of it,” Yoongi added. “Do you even know how women work?” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, and reached for his phone: there was no way he would enter a discussion with those invisible pricks in a public situation without something to mask it. Not that it would have been the first time.  

Yoongi materialized on the seat next to Jungkook, his head leaning against his hand. The boy was already used to those sudden changes of position, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. In fact, after Taehyung had appeared next to him during a particularly bad time — in which the incognito tab had already been opened, and a bottle of lotion already waited for him — he could never erase the intense panic of such experiences. 

But of course, Yoongi knew that, and he used his discomfort for his own entertainment. “You can’t ignore us, kiddo,” he said slowly, clearly amused. “And you can’t ignore the fact that you’ll die alone, surrounded by cats, if you don’t start listening to what we have to say. We have been tied to you for a reason.”

“And the reason,” Taehyung added, “is to make you stop cockblocking yourself.” 

With a subdued groan, Jungkook pressed his phone against his ear — an old trick that allowed for him to have a conversation without being seen as clinically insane by passersby. “You two are the reason why this date went downhill,” he told them. “You told me to say all the wrong things. You two set this up knowing I’d fail.” 

“Oh, no.” Taehyung shook his head in disagreement. “The words were right. Your delivery was awful.” 

“Western-movie-awful,” Yoongi added. “And if you want to change that, you have to trust us.” 

“Trust you? Where has that taken me?” Jungkook questioned, irritated. “You’re the reason why I lost my first girlfriend and haven’t had another one ever since.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “The girl from the first night? She never talked to you again after that, did she?” He asked, but, of course, he already knew the answer. “Damn, that was cringe-worthy. Butt in the air and everything.”

“No need to remind me, I was there.” Jungkook clenched his jaw, trying to control his demeanor. It wasn’t fair that there was not much that he could do to make the two men shut up — since they were, quite literally, already dead, he didn’t have many threats to utter. “And whose fault was that?” 

“Technically, yours.” Taehyung shrugged. “We didn’t present ourselves to you, you just saw us all of a sudden. We were just as surprised.”

“Besides, you were the one that had the B.F.,” Yoongi added. 

Jungkook raised one eyebrow. “B.F.?”

“Bitch fit,” Taehyung elucidated. “He watched White Chicks with your neighbors last night, don’t worry about it.” 

Jungkook groaned, pressing his hand against his face. Of course — the cherry on top would be outdated pop references, as expected. Yoongi had always been quite fond of the classic ‘with great power comes great responsibility’, and Jungkook thought that the overuse of that quote would be the ultmost reason for his insanity. Nevertheless, he came to understand that it was nothing compared to movies like White Chicks or even Legally Blonde. He would rather hear Uncle Ben’s famous line a billion times over before Yoongi accused him of having a B.F. once more. 

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the environment around him. The murmurs and disembodied conversations around the mall had morphed into the sound of irritating insects, and he felt as if the earth could just open up and eat him alive. He probably committed a terrible crime in a past life to be stuck with Tweedledee and Tweedledum like that. 

“Anyways,” Jungkook stressed, “it didn’t seem like the two of you were surprised that I could see you. You just kept… talking about me. And my ass.”

Taehyung chuckled. “You were the one with the ass up in the air.” He vanished, then materialized in the seat in front of Jungkook. “What were we supposed to do? Ignore it?” 

“It was an easy target,” Yoongi spoke, then seemed to realize the words that had left his mouth. “Wait, I didn’t mean the double interpretation.” 

“Why can’t the two of you just fucking help me for once?” Jungkook asked aggressively. In a nearby table, one old man raised his eyes from his vegan burger and stared the boy up and down in disapproval. Jungkook lowered his voice and switched his phone to the other ear. “This is unbearable. You two are only making it worse.” 

With a gesture that Jungkook knew all too well, Taehyung used his thumb to point over his shoulder, towards the path that his failed date had followed. “That one wasn’t good enough for you,” he said nonchalantly. “We can tell. We know stuff.” 

“Then why did you set this up in the first place?” He asked, exasperated. 

“As DJ Khaled says, you played yourself,” Yoongi cited. One more reference and Jungkook would be the one joining the world of the dead. “It’s not our fault that you get nervous and can’t deliver the lines right. When have the two of us ever failed?”

“When you died,” he spoke back. “Or did you forget the stupid mistake you made?”

Yoongi hesitated. As much as he tried to play it cool, he wasn’t the smartest one around. In fact, his tragically premature death was all the evidence Jungkook needed to make his point clear. 

During his living days, Yoongi was pretty invested in rock climbing. On a beautiful summer afternoon, just as the sun was setting over the green-bathed hills, one of his friends dared him to bungee jump from the same cliff they had just climbed, and were standing on. Of course, the man agreed promptly, saying that he wouldn’t back out from such a mundane task; stating repeatedly that the fall wouldn’t be so high up anyway. But that wasn’t the turning point: Min Yoongi, in all his adventurousness, quickly decided that his local shop was too expensive and that he would create his own bungee jump cord instead. 

According to him, making the cord proved itself to be quite an easy task. He had gotten some help from his local adrenaline addicts and the final product was a very good copy of the factory-made ones. He measured the cliff twice just to be certain, compared it to the rope, and made sure to test the sustentation and elasticity as many times as he could. 

Still, Yoongi had overlooked an imperative detail: he shouldn’t use a cord that was the same height as the cliff he was jumping from. 

Needless to say, he only realized his mistake once he was already dead. 

Yoongi scoffed at the memory, ignoring his hurt pride. He swore he could still feel his back hurting when he thought about that. “That isn’t the point,” he said. He often did that: changed the subject once he realized he couldn’t leave with the upper hand. “The point is that you keep delivering lines like you’re a bad boy in a South American novela, then expect us to perform a miracle on you.” 

Jungkook frowned, lowering his head. “That’s actually so wrong.” 

But the problem was: Yoongi was right, and Jungkook knew it. In fact, that had been the exact reason why his date had left him that night — the boy had misunderstood Taehyung’s advice to play off as a mysterious man, and instead projected his image somewhere between a psychopath and a person that had only K-dramas as a basis of how human interactions were supposed to work. Jungkook missed his attempts at romance the entire time, but the breaking point was when Yoongi told him to act as a bad influence because, according to him, girls dig a good bad boy. 

Once again, Yoongi wasn’t the brightest mind when it came to risk-taking. That was why he was more dead than Jungkook’s bedroom. 

Jungkook, however, did not realize his own errors until it was too late. He had chuckled at his date’s embarrassment, using his opening to delicately place her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to tell you something,” he started, voice swift and placid as a river. With his eyebrows raised and his lips vaguely forming a pout, he looked like an off-brand version of Handsome Squidward. “I’m not really a good influence, and surely not the kind of guy you’d like to get with. So why don’t you do me a favor and follow the simple orders I give you, uh?”

Her eyes had widened in a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and fear. From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook saw her reaching for her purse over the table. “No, thank you,” she was quick to say. “I don’t think this will work, sorry. I’ll see you around college.” 

And that’s how they ended at that point. The point they always seemed to end up in. 

“I think I need a break from all of this,” Jungkook said, closing his eyes for a moment of peace. “I have a huge test next week and I couldn’t even study for it because of all the preparation for this stupid date. Can you two just take a step back? Just for a little while. Romance can’t be all that I think about.”

As he opened his eyes, he saw Taehyung staring at him. He couldn’t really read his expression. 

And, without an answer, the two of them vanished. 

_________________

If someone asked Jungkook why the hell he thought going to medical school was a good idea, he’d simply say that, at the time, it made sense. After all, he had thought, he’d be some sort of super-doctor, since he had an exclusive VIP pass to the afterlife — just imagine how many people he would be able to help just by asking a friendly ghost what was wrong with a patient. It would be a game-changer. He could even find the cure of cancer if he tried hard enough. 

But of course, he quickly realized that he should’ve thought further about his decision. Maybe being a detective would have made much more sense — it would have been a lot cheaper, that’s for sure, and he wouldn’t have to sit through almost twelve hours of classes every single day for a diploma that seemed to be too far away for him to care. 

That particular class, however, wasn’t the worst one out there. 

It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant Pathology. Jungkook loved that class because the professor hated teaching it, so the students had to sit in silence for about three hours trying to read the textbook by themselves. The professor said he would be there to answer any questions, but he was mostly scrolling through his phone and interrupting students every time they tried to ask him something — “That’s in the textbook, just keep reading.”  

Most of his classmates absolutely despised that subject, but Jungkook thought it was wonderful: he often learned better by himself anyways, and the lack of conversation during class brought him some sense of peace. Besides, Yoongi and Taehyung hated sitting in that quiet room for too long, so they mostly left after ten or twenty minutes of trying — and failing — to strike up a conversation with Jungkook. It was the perfect day.

Well, most days it was. 

Just as he was about to move forward to the next topic — Adrenal Insufficiency and Addison’s Disease — , the boy felt something poking his bicep and he was quick to turn to his side. Instantly, he recognized your expectant gaze and something fluttered inside his stomach. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning over your desk, “is tomorrow afternoon still up? I really need help in cardiac physiology. I kind of suck.”

He hummed in agreement, fighting against the nervousness that crept up on him. Jungkook’s palms started to sweat just by looking at you, he really was one step away from reverting back to his pre-teen days. “For sure. I’ll be at yours at five,” he managed to get out. 

“Thank you so much,” you said, then moved back against your seat. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. If it had been anyone else, Jungkook would’ve had a stroke by then — after all, he wasn’t always invited to a girl’s place so easily. That’s someone that I have absolutely no chance with, he thought. So friendzoning himself made everything much easier. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet up at the library?” 

“I can’t really concentrate there,” you answered. “But if you prefer, we could go.” 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Your place is fine.” 

You smiled again, and Jungkook thought that maybe being shot wouldn’t hurt so much. “Thanks. See you at five.” 

Jungkook nodded and turned around, facing his laptop. Just as he was about to restart typing his notes, he saw a known reflection at the corner of his computer. Oh, God, have mercy.

Yoongi’s reflection smirked from the back row. “Oh, man, she’s so into you.”

 Jungkook shook his head in denial, eyes still glued to the PDF file in front of him. If anything, his classmates would have just guessed he was finding that subject more difficult than usual and, quite frankly, no one could judge him. 

“No?” Yoongi raised one eyebrow, reappearing by his side with his hand supporting his cheek. Jungkook didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was just looooving the discomfort that grew inside his limbs. “I know those things, kiddo. It’s my job.”

From the front seat, Taehyung hummed in agreement. He had his arm placed over the chair, and seemed to find that entire situation a bit boring — maybe because he had seen it countless times before. “She definitely wants to get some of that,” he said. “We are proud of you, son.” 

With a subdued sigh, Jungkook scribbled some aggressive words at the corner of his notebook, and showed it to the man by his side. “Look at this, Taehyung, he’s trying to convince us that they’re just friends,” Yoongi mocked, crossing his arms. “That’s cute. Just because you’re that oblivious, it doesn’t mean that we are.”

“Jungkook, we’ve been watching the two of you talk the entire semester,” Taehyung added. “Besides, Yoongi made me follow her around once. She’s definitely into you. In unholy ways.”

Yoongi nodded once again. “She wants to be your boo.”

“Was that a fucking ghost pun?” Taehyung’s nose cringed up in disgust, and Jungkook had to fight back the reflex of laughing at his reaction. “Awful.”

“At least I’m not the one who ghostwrote Jungkook’s ethics essay.” Yoongi threw back. “Yeah, and that was another pun. You’ve got no spirit.” 

“You know what? Now I know why Jungkook can’t stand us anymore.” Taehyung smirked and, then and there, Jungkook knew exactly what was coming. “He can see right through us.”

The other ghost nodded. “Yeah, we’ve reached a dead end.” 

Jungkook groaned in exasperation, hiding his face behind his hands. “This is torture.”

Next to him, you chuckled. “Come on, pathology isn’t even that bad. You’re good at this.” 

“I know, I’m just tired.” He turned around to look at you, uttering the same excuse he had been using this entire semester. Not that it was an uncommon one, especially in the fifth circle of hell that was medical school. “I think I need to splash some cold water on my face. Wake myself up.”

You hesitated, staring at him as he stood up.  Jungkook looked strangely pale, like he was about to throw up all over the classroom. “Is everything okay?”

Fantastic! My bachelor ghosts are just making me have a nervous breakdown. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He said, almost stumbling over your chair. Some of your pens fell down, but Jungkook couldn’t even bring himself to get them. He’d probably just knock everything else over in the process, and he wasn’t even sure that he could stand back up after. “Shit— Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Behind him, Yoongi chuckled. “Spook-tacular skills, as always.”

_____________

The sound of running water was all that entered Jungkook’s mind for a moment, his face feeling the coldness of the liquid as he splashed himself once, twice, trying to clear his thoughts. In the end, it was mostly in vain: his class was ruined, his notes were left unfinished, and he couldn’t get a second of tranquility anymore — not even in Pathology. If he weren’t canonized after his death, he would file a complaint for sure. 

Abruptly, he closed off the faucet and the water stopped running. There was a heavenly instant of quietness, in which Jungkook followed the crystalline droplets falling from his hair to the sink, before Yoongi’s voice echoed behind him. “How you doin’, champ?” 

Jungkook sighed and raised his head, looking at his ghost counterpart through the dirty mirror. “Is the bathroom empty?” he asked calmly. 

“Hm? Yeah,” Yoongi said. “The ghost is clear.”

Just like that, his serenity was gone. “Yoongi, can you fucking stop? Your puns stopped being funny after the third attempt,” Jungkook asked, exasperated. He pulled some paper towels, and got even angrier at the way they fell apart in his hands. Good to know his college money was being used wisely. “Jesus. Where is Taehyung?”

“You know he hates toilet paper,” Yoongi told him. “Reminds him of his death.”

Jungkook considered the compelling idea of banging his head against the bathroom wall until he, himself, was part of the world of the dead. As he recalled very well, Taehyung had been a victim of Final-Destination-levels of misfortune: just because he had forgotten to take toilet paper to his camping trip, the boy had been forced to use nearby leaves. Those, as he would soon come to understand, caused an awful allergy on his lower lands, and the punctual bleeding was a sufficient opening for opportunistic diseases. The culprit? Some super strange bacteria that floated around the river. He was dead less than twenty hours after he came back home from septic shock.  

Taehyung had endured, quite frankly, one shitty death. And, yes, Yoongi had made that joke a few too many times before. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook realized. “What did I tell you two about chit-chatting with me in large public places? Especially my classes? I have to pay attention. And I have a test in two days, I need to be all here, and not thinking about other people.” 

Yoongi giggled — almost childishly so — at the other’s anguished attitude. His teeth, a pallid shade of white, could barely be seen against the olive-green tiles that covered the bathroom walls. “You weren’t paying attention to the processes of intestinal inflammation, that’s for sure,” he teased, forcing himself to hold back his jokes a bit. 

“I wasn’t even studying that chapter,” Jungkook mumbled. 

Even Yoongi, who had a dense personality for such a diaphanous soul, could tell that the student was not in the mood for mockery. “Man, why are you so stuck-up? Taehyung and I are ghosts, but you’re the one with the dead sense of humor.”

Jungkook realized he needed a moment to think before he started yelling at nothing in a public bathroom. He really hoped the other stalls were empty, but he couldn’t be bothered to check. 

“This isn’t about the puns. You two just don’t respect my privacy,” Jungkook said. This time, he was able to pull some good paper towels and proceeded to dry his face. “This has been going on for too long. Why don’t you two just vanish for some time?”

“Wish I could, kiddo, but I’ve got hours to clock,” Yoongi finally admitted. From the mirror, he could see the frown of confusion that was cast over Jungkook’s features. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m only following rules. Talk to the big guy upstairs if you want to complain.”

He threw the paper on the trash and shook his head in confusion. “I just don’t see the point of any of this.” 

“You don’t have to.” Yoongi took a step closer. He often looked so unbothered — the two of them, actually — that Jungkook caught himself wondering which certainties they held, notions that would most likely be given after death. “Just do what we tell you to do.”

“That has only embarrassed me so far,” he said, turning around. “I don’t think I have it in me to trust in you two one more time. It has gotten me nowhere. Or, rather, nowhere good.”  

Yoongi sighed. “Alright, let’s do it like this, then: You go and help Y/N with her cardio whatever stuff, and Taehyung and I just watch. We promise to shut up, unless you’re doing something seriously embarrassing. Other than that, absolute silence.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “You promise you two won’t tell me what to say?”

“Promise.” Yoongi nodded. He looked very sincere. “We won’t talk to you.” 

“I can live with that, yeah,” Jungkook agreed, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Sounds good.”

“Perfect.” He smiled. “Trust me, Jungkook. I only made one mistake in my life.”

Jungkook smirked. “And it killed you.”

“Not the point.” He raised one finger, clearly annoyed, then pointed it at Jungkook. “You’ll do great. It’s not like you’re gonna tell her about us or something.” 

He laughed. “Yeah, that’d be awful.” 

________________

But that was, ultimately, what he did.

To be fair, it was never Jungkook’s intention. He was completely sure that it would ruin not only his friendship with you, as it would also ruin his reputation, both as a student and as a future physician. Come on, how would he even explain that? How could he tell anyone that he not only saw two obnoxious ghosts, but that they were there to give him romantic (and sometimes sexual) advice? That’s insanity. 

Spoiler: he didn’t explain it very well. 

In the cosmic perspective, however, it was kind of Yoongi’s fault too. He had the problem of giving away too much sometimes, especially when he was alone and free from Taehyung’s scrutiny. And it was that extra bit of information that catalyzed the explosion that would become Jungkook’s confession. 

For some reason or another, Taehyung hadn’t joined the two of them that day, as Jungkook crossed the campus towards your place. For the first time in a long time, their conversation — which was, again, masked by Jungkook pretending to be on the phone — was actually quite pleasant. Yoongi had told him a bit more about his life back in the day and explained that he was studying to become a lawyer when he died. 

“I was thinking of dropping out anyways,” he said. “I just picked a random thing to study because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And, well, I kind of did drop off. Just not from the course.” 

Jungkook could not help but laugh at the absurdness of it all. Sad coincidences aside, it was unusual for Yoongi to make jokes about his death. Taehyung was much more open about it, but Yoongi seemed to be very bitter because of the way and the time he passed. But of course, who was Jungkook to judge? 

“You know,” Yoongi started after a moment of quietude. “Taehyung and I were pretty surprised that day at the mall.”

Jungkook frowned. “Hm? Why is that?” 

The other man chuckled. “Honestly? Because you’re dumber than we thought.”

Seems like pleasant times didn’t last much between the two of them. “We’ve established that I can’t talk to girls, Yoongi, I know.” Jungkook really wanted to change the subject. 

“No, not that,” he denied. “Let’s go back a little. Remember what we told you in your bedroom that night? To get the physiology girl.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi laughed, amazed that Jungkook still didn’t get it. “You called the wrong one, idiot,” he explained. 

“What?” Jungkook paused in his tracks and, in a mindless reflex, forgot he was supposed to be talking on the phone, and looked directly at Yoongi, lowering the device away from his ear. “There is a right one?” 

“Hey, pay attention to your surroundings.” Yoongi pointed at a couple that also stopped, confused at the man’s actions. Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure after that minor instant of public humiliation, and placed the phone back against his ear. “Let’s keep walking.”

With his heart beating insanely fast against his chest, Jungkook did as he was told. His mind was flooded with fragmented thoughts, working around words that seemed so simple, yet held so much.

“Yes, there is a right one — and you’re going towards her right now.” Yoongi responded, placing his ghostly hands inside his ghostly pockets. Jungkook never noticed that he still used the clothes that he had on when he died, but Yoongi wouldn’t be the first one to mention. “So don’t make a fool out of yourself. Not this time.” 

Jungkook swallowed dry, feeling as panic started to climb up his lower limbs, weighing down on his muscles. His throat was dry as a desert and forming sentences proved to be a far more difficult task than he had anticipated. The air around campus had suddenly become hot for an autumn day, unable to enter his lungs with ease. He really was two steps away from a full-blown anxiety attack. 

Yoongi frowned. “You good?” 

Jungkook licked his lips, only half aware of his actions. “Y-Yeah,” he struggled to get out. “Just kind of a bomb that you just dropped on me, that’s all.” 

Yoongi nodded, uninterested. “Yeah. Get over it. It’s not a huge deal.” 

Only, it was. For Jungkook, at least. What if you two were… you know? Meant to be? Like the soulmates kind of thing; star-crossed lovers. Like in the “we got married after two months of dating and we are still together after sixty years” kind of insane love? That was a lot to process, a lot to think about, especially when he was having like three different crises at once. It was a recipe for a disaster. 

Jungkook really was dumb when it came to anything besides his textbooks, but not for jumping into those conclusions. Frankly, most people would’ve been a bit overwhelmed by that. 

No, his problem would reside on his next thought: If you two were meant to be, you would understand if, for some reason, he had to tell you about his ghosts, right? 

Right?

_______________

To be fair with Yoongi, he did keep his promise. The two didn’t interrupt your conversation once, even if sometimes the moment begged for it, and Jungkook was two words away from ruining everything. Strangely enough, things seemed to work themselves out — the horrible jokes that Jungkook uttered seemed to suit your sense of humor; the shy and nervous demeanor that plagued his dates slowly melted away. It was good — in fact, it was the best talk he’s had with someone in a long, long time. 

The issue was that, as much as the two of them didn’t talk directly to Jungkook, they still talked. 

“What was that thing that she said, you know, to her friends?” Yoongi mumbled, his words coming out as a vague connection of syllables being formed at the corner of his mouth. He had his arms crossed, and his legs pushed up on the couch. “You told me that.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung took a moment to think. He had one of his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his white pants, and the other on the back of the couch. The two of them watched the conversation that unfolded above your living room table, the two of you trying to make sense of a subject that seemed to change every five minutes. “It was like ‘homeboy can like, get it’... or something.” 

Yoongi nodded, satisfied. “Nice.” 

Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to ignore that comment. It wasn’t news that you were interested in him — that had been the only thing Yoongi and Taehyung had told him for the past few hours, but it was very, very awkward to know those specific details. He was sure he wouldn’t like you to know the private conversations that he had with his friends, even less about the things he thought about when he was alone. There was something extremely violating about that, but, no matter how hard he tried to convince them, the two ghosts didn’t seem to care enough to stop. 

The giggle that came from across the table ruptured his thoughts. “Why are you blushing?” You asked.

“I’m… uh…” he struggled, suddenly feeling the heat that emanated from his cheeks. Wonderful. Even when he was just thinking about something, he still managed to make a fool of himself. “Just… thinking about some embarrassing things I did in third grade. The usual.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been there.” You smiled, reaching for the textbook across the table, and flipping through the pages. “I ruined this entire science project once. It was something about the pollination of flowers, but I missed that class. Ended up coming back to a lot of roses around the classroom, and decided to take a few of them home to my mom.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yep,” you nodded, looking back at him. Jungkook thought that he had lost himself in your eyes for a moment, a depth so engulfing that he couldn’t find the right words once he stared at it. He had never noticed how beautiful you were — or, rather, he had, but he had never stopped to think about it — and, now, it seemed as if that was the only thing that he could focus on. “Everyone in class was super pissed, the teacher even tried to suspend me.”

He shook his head, trying to imagine a mini-you justifying your flower thievery in front of the principal. “That’s insane, actually.”

“Kind of.” You shrugged, looking back at the book. You weren’t sure what you were searching for anymore, so you decided to close it. You two had been studying for almost four hours straight, you didn’t think that your brain could handle any more of that. “They didn’t really believe me when I told them it was a mistake. Guess no one even noticed my absence the day before, which is… somehow… even worse, now that I think about it.” 

A giggle reverberated in your throat as you dove into those forgotten memories, and Jungkook followed you. 

“Don’t laugh at child me, that’s so cruel.” You smiled. 

“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I just thought you were cute. Still are, you never really stopped being cute, I mean. You’re actually really pretty now, like a woman—” 

“I got it.” You placed your hands over his, and the shock of your skin against his seemed to spread throughout his entire body. He didn’t know if that was a soulmate thing of if he was just really horny. Probably a bit of both. “Don’t worry about it. You’re pretty cute too. Like a man.”  

“Thanks.” Jungkook itched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words to build his sentence. Panic began bubbling at the bottom of his stomach, sinking its teeth into his flesh as his words left his throat. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” 

It was the right time now: the studying was over, the conversation was flowing, you had told him that you thought he was cute — like a man. Now, he just needed to ask you out. Just that. That’s it. Three words. He had practiced: Wanna go out? That’s it. So casual. So playboy-esque. He could do it. No pressure. If you were the one, he didn’t have much to get wrong. 

But, oh my god, what if he got everything wrong? I mean, how many stories are out there of couples who were destined for each other, but something happened and it pulled them apart forever? The wrong time, the wrong place — the wrong words. Jungkook wasn’t psychologically prepared to ruin something so huge with a moment so small. He needed to calm down and focus. Just get the words out. Everything would sort itself out after that. He had faith. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Jungkook cleared his throat, his eyes still glued to the touch of your hand against his. Outside, birds were chirping, unaware of the absolute shitstorm that was about to ensue. “So…” he started, “I was thinking that maybe I could— I mean, you — I mean we could...”

You tilted your head to the side, confused. “Sorry, what was that?” 

He blinked once, twice, fighting against the wave of sheer terror that had taken over his brain, whitening out his thoughts. He had the sentence ready, but he had forgotten how to form it. “I’m just trying… I’m just trying here to just…” He swallowed dryly. “I was just wondering if you would like to… I mean, if it’s not a problem—”

From the other side of the room, Yoongi groaned. “Just do it! You’re making eternity so much longer.”

And that’s when it happened. 

Jungkook turned around and yelled: “You told me you wouldn’t talk, you asshole!”

The entire room froze. A horrible moment of bewildered reticence followed as  the realization crashed upon him like a gigantic wave. He couldn’t have just yelled at nothing in front of you, like an absolute madman, could he? 

Your eyes widened and you pulled your hand away from his. The lack of warmth was like a dagger being thrown directly into his heart. “Excuse me?”

Yep. He totally did that. 

“Not you!” He was quick to turn around — maybe a bit too quick, too intensely. Even with nervousness clouding his vision, Jungkook could still see the shadow of fear and confusion mingling amongst your features. He had ruined everything, and that was all that he could think about. “I’m just... personalizing my anxiety...”

“Are you... alright?” You spoke slowly, measuring his actions. Jungkook had changed from cute-nervous to absolutely-unhinged-nervous; eyes widened and jaw clenched; hands gripping the wooden chair like his life depended on it. Maybe that study session was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just googled an online class, like your best friend told you to. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Taehyung chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.” 

And, if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, Jungkook started to convince himself that perhaps it would be a good idea to come clean with you about his psychic abilities — maybe that was actually the only way that he could get out of that mess. If you were his soulmate, you’d understand. It’d all be okay. Yeah, maybe you’d be seriously creeped out for like the first twenty minutes, just like he had been, but eventually you’d understand what had happened. You two would laugh about it later, maybe when you were sixty, on your rocking chairs somewhere, staring lovingly at a cornfield. 

Was he losing it? Probably. But he didn’t have the right amount of mental clarity to fully think about the consequences of his actions in that moment. 

“I… did,” Jungkook spoke sluggishly, barely comprehending the trail of words that dripped from his tongue. His voice was much calmer, but he could still feel like his entire body was engulfed by flames. “I did... see a ghost. Two actually.” 

You frowned. This afternoon couldn’t possibly get any worse. “What are you talking about?” 

“Jungkook, don’t you dare,” Yoongi warned, but his voice seemed to come from miles away. 

Slowly, as if he wasn’t really aware of his own body moving, Jungkook adjusted his position on the chair, looking down at the sea of handwritten notes in front of him. He wished that human interaction was as easy as the types of pulmonary volumes, or perhaps the changes of oxygen inside the hemoglobin. That he knew. That he could deal with.

“Ok so, have you ever watched The Emperor’s New Groove?”

You blinked twice, puzzled. “What?”

“The Disney movie,” he clarified, looking up at you. 

You shook your head, measuring how long it would take for you to bolt out of the door and run away from your own apartment. Maybe you could get out and then call someone for help. You wished you had already taken Psychiatry. “I know what that is, Jungkook, but I just don’t understand where you’re getting at.”

“Maybe it’s in the TV series that came after the movie, I don’t know, but Kronk has these two little beings on his shoulders, a devil and an angel.” He cleared his throat, and looked back at the sheets of paper. It was so hard to stare at you now, when just seconds before, it had been so easy. “I kinda have the same thing, only, they’re dead people. You know, ghosts. And they’re not on my shoulders — that’d be pretty awful, actually.” 

Taehyung mumbled from across the room, “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jungkook.” 

“You’re making no sense right now,” you said, worried about the effect that your words could have on him. “I think… I think it would be better if you left.” 

“I can see dead people, okay?” Jungkook interrupted, exasperated. You had to understand. You were the right girl from physiology class, you had to understand. 

“Okay, Sixth Sense.” You laughed nervously. Bad time for a joke, you thought, but the boy barely seemed to process it. “Listen, I can tell you’re not doing very well right now, so you should probably leave, maybe clear your head a bit. You already helped me a lot—”

“No, I don’t need that. My head is clear—”

“You know, there is a very good mental health clinic in campus, I’ve gone there already, and I think—” 

“No! I don’t need mental health, it’s true!” Jungkook stood up, walking towards the couch, where the two dead men sat. There was an unspoken contest in the room to see who could be more flabbergasted at the boy’s actions, and you and Yoongi were in a close tie. “I can prove it.” 

You almost choked on air. “You what?” 

Jungkook pointed at nothing. “They’re here right now, I can prove it to you.”

Discombobulated, you shook your head one more time. Maybe if you did that enough, your chaotic thoughts would just fall out of your ears, and everything would be much clearer. Maybe that was a prank, maybe that was a full-blown psychotic breakdown. You just didn’t really know what to do from there. “Jungkook, I don’t think—” 

“Come on, just show yourself to her!” He yelled into the air, more specifically at your white couch. You just wanted to study cardiology, how did it end up like this? “Give me a sign, I don’t know.”

Yoongi chuckled, completely amazed by the way Jungkook continuously broke the Dumb Records that he had previously set himself. No bonus in heaven would be worth dealing with Mr. Smooth Brain over there. He should’ve gone for the orphans instead. “I cannot believe you right now.” He stood up from the couch and sighed, utterly defeated. Maybe he could just get it over with, and then The Big Man Upstairs would show him a bit of mercy. “But I guess now there isn’t much to lose. I’m only doing this because at least it would make this situation a bit better.” 

“How?” Taehyung asked. 

“There’s a slight improvement between psychotic crisis and psychic abilities,” Yoongi responded. He walked towards the window, rolled his eyes at the pathetic presentation of supernatural phenomena, and pulled on the white curtains of your living room. “Here. Boo! Paranormal activity.” 

“Did you see that?” Jungkook asked, excited. 

However, instead of meeting a surprised gaze, he only saw panic and preoccupation swimming inside your eyes. “The curtain moving? Yeah. That was the wind, Jungkook.” You stood up from the chair, measuring your chances at escaping. He was getting more and more erratic, and you didn’t know where the situation could escalate to next. “You’re seriously freaking me out right now. You’re being really aggressive about this.” 

“Yoongi, you’re worse than the spirits in Ghost Hunters,” Taehyung groaned, reappearing next to your living room table. “You have to be bold, that’s what I always say. Make a statement.”

Taehyung’s statement, of course, had been the biggest slap against a lamp that Jungkook had ever witnessed in his life. The ghosts had once told him that it took them a huge amount of concentrated energy to do something as little as move a napkin, so there was no way that Taehyung wouldn’t be exhausted after making that heavy piece of furniture fly against the wall, shattering into a million little pieces with a loud noise. 

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asked. “That was so dangerous! She could’ve gotten hurt.”

He shrugged. “You asked.” 

“What the fuck was that?” You yelled, taking your hands to your face. Was that shared hysteria? What did you just see? Maybe you were the one who needed fresh air and a shrink visit. “You’re pranking me, right? You have like a nylon string wrapped around your hands or something.”

Jungkook moved his head in denial, raising his hands up in a sigh of defeat. “I swear to God, it’s true.” 

“I don’t… I don’t believe you,” you said, clearly terrified. Not at the idea of ghosts, Jungkook realized, but of him. That date surely couldn’t have gone any better. 

Yoongi sighed and materialized behind Jungkook. Lost causes, Yoongi was surrounded by lost causes. “If you really want her to believe you, tell her we can say some stuff about her, but it’ll probably freak her out.”

“They are saying that they can convince you by saying some stuff about you.” Jungkook swallowed dry. Something inside him was screaming for him to just shut the fuck up and leave your building. If there was something he learned by being with the two undead pricks, is that they could always make a situation worse. 

But desperate times require desperate measures. 

You adjusted your posture. Trepidation was still very present in your face, but there was also a small spark of interest swimming somewhere inside your eyes. “I seriously doubt that.” 

“I can show you,” he said. “Just… don’t freak out.”

“Fine.” You licked your lips in anticipation. “The name of my first pet.”

“Is this a password verification?” Yoongi groaned. He just wanted to watch Twitches later that day, but Jungkook just had to start a seance in someone else’s room. Again: the orphans would never. “Fine. It was Mr. Green, a tortoise she killed by leaving to dry in the asphalt.” 

“It was a tortoise, Mr. Green. You left it on the asphalt and it died,” Jugkook repeated without hesitation. 

You blinked twice, taking in the answer. “This is so fucking weird. How did you know that?”

“Yoongi told me.” Jungkook pointed over his shoulder, where Yoongi stared you down. Just by looking in that direction, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You were losing it. “He’s, you know, one of the ghosts.” 

“I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.” You placed one hand against the chair, leaning against it. There was no use to keep that conversation going, and you both knew it — and yet, just like a politician lying, it just didn’t stop. “But you could’ve asked anyone that.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to become completely lost. “Why would I ask such a specific question? I don’t even know your friends.” 

Behind him, he heard another loud groan. “I’m so done with this.” Yoongi placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let me talk, Jungkook.” 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He asked.

Yoongi snorted. “We are all out of good ideas. But I think this is the best chance you’ve got.”

“Who are you talking to?” You almost yelled. 

Jungkook looked back at you and, for some reason, the preoccupation in his eyes scared you even further. “Okay, this is going to be really weird, alright? But it’s not gonna be me talking.”

“What?” 

“It’s like… a kind of possession,” he explained, gesticulating a bit more than socially acceptable. “It’s like… uh… One of them is going to use my mouth for a bit. Talk through me.” 

You laughed, and there was a high-pitched sort of timbre to it. That might as well happen. “Sure, of course. What else? Exorcism live?” You asked. 

“Just give me the permission,” Yoongi commanded. 

Jungkook took in a deep breath, and clenched his hands into fists. He hated that part. “Fine,” he consented. 

Gradually, the muscles around his mouth and throat grew numb, as if Jungkook had entered a dream, and his body was responding in autopilot. There was an awful pressure on his shoulders and a ringing in his ears as Yoongi accommodated himself around his body, reaching for control. That was the closest he would ever feel to being a ventriloquist’s puppet, and it was as bad as it could be. 

Yoongi spoke through him with ease: “You told your friends last week that you didn’t care if Jungkook was a shy virgin who played minecraft because he was exactly your type. You also said that your average score in physiology is ninety-seven percent and you didn’t need any help. You just needed an excuse to stay with him. Happy?” 

Jungkook inhaled sharply as the pressure on his body subsided, the numb sensation around his neck growing thinner by the second. “So violating,” he complained. 

“How did you know that?” Your voice shook him back to reality. Both of you were reaching new levels of terror every minute. “Are you stalking me?”

That back and forth was starting to get exhausting. “That wasn’t me. That was Yoongi,” he tried once again. He was starting to think that the whole thing had been a bad idea. 

“Well, fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat. 

Yoongi scoffed. “Fuck you too, princess. Maybe you really don’t deserve this man.”

“I’m not saying that,” Jungkook whispered to him, then turned back to look at you. He wanted to hug you and magically erase your memories for that afternoon, but, in reality, he couldn’t even move his legs without feeling like he could fall face-down on the floor. He really, really, really hated possession. “I’m just… I’m sorry about that.” 

“About what, Danny Phantom?” You asked, throwing your hands up in an exasperated gesture. And there it was: from panic to complete fury. That was all that you two needed at that moment. “About making me scared shitless, or about exposing me like this?” 

He suspired. “Do you at least believe in me now?” 

“Does it look like I believe in you, Jungkook?” You practically screamed. Truth was: neither of you knew that for sure. “I’m a woman of science, you can’t expect me to believe that—”

Taehyung groaned, walking closer to Jungkook. It must’ve been a world record how quickly everyone in that room got angry. “Let me talk,” he requested. 

Jungkook sighed, defeated. How much worse could it possibly get? “Go ahead,” he said.

There it was again: the feeling of being under anesthesia, the weight of an entire other being pressed down against his shoulders. Good times. “Yesterday,” he started, “you masturbated to the thought of Jungkook, but you forgot to recharge your vibrator so you had to use your fingers and you complained the entire time. Explain that, science woman.”

Another deep gasp, and Jungkook was folding over, finding balance on his knees. He really felt like he couldn’t even think straight anymore, his mind covered by a thick fog. 

You didn’t seem to be in a much different situation either. “I’m… gonna pass out.” 

“That was so unnecessary, Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered. His mouth was terribly dry, and his hands were shaking. “You guys really don’t know your limits.” 

“Taehyung? Who the fuck is that?” You screamed. 

Taehyung crossed his arms. “Hey, at least she believes you now.”

“He’s the other ghost. The one with no sense of boundaries.” Jungkook stared at Taehyung, clearly pissed off. Maybe his voice would’ve come out a bit more forceful if he didn’t get thrown around by sadistic spirits. “I’m sorry about that.” 

You shook your head, dumbfounded. “I need you to leave now. And take your ghosts with you.” You leaned over the table, and grabbed his notes, shoving them into a messy pile. Not that you were super worried about the integrity of the paper at a time like that. “This has really crossed like... every line.” 

Jungkook licked his lips, trying to find the right words to say. Someway, he managed to get his legs firm enough so he could start walking in your direction. “Please, I didn’t mean to—” 

You shoved the pile of notes into his backpack, and then the backpack into his hands. Before he could react, you grabbed him by the arm, guiding him towards the exit. “Thanks for helping me, Jungkook.” The door opened with a forceful pull, and you shoved him into the hall. “Never speak to me again. Bye.” 

The bang of the door slamming shut was horribly loud, reverberating inside Jungkook’s chest for a moment longer. Now that the possession daze was starting to move away from his body, the boy could feel the traces of panic crawling inside him. 

Jungkook dropped his backpack to the ground, and started knocking on your door. “Y/N, please!” He called. “I’m so sorry about everything. You have to believe me!” 

Your yell came muffled from the other side of the door. “Go away!” you screamed. “Or I’m calling the cops!”

Defeated, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead against the wood. Now that the situation had already climaxed, the absurdity of it all was starting to become much more palpable. 

How could Jungkook be so stupid? How could he think that you would act normally as you were exposed to the supernatural world? Especially in such distressing, violating ways. Even if you were his meant-to-be, his forever person, it would be ridiculous to believe that anyone would take all  in that with ease. He really outdid himself that time. 

“Let her be, you two can talk another time,”  Yoongi spoke, leaning against the wall. It was possible to see all the places that the pain was starting to crack through his semi-translucent form. “Good attempt, though. I’d give you a star for trying.” 

“This is not funny,” Jungkook mumbled, moving away from the door so you couldn’t hear him. The artificial lights above his head were sharp, buzzing mockingly. “You two keep saying that you’re here to help me, but you keep making stuff like this happen. If she really did like me, you just ruined everything.”

Yoongi raised one eyebrow. “Why do you care so much about that one?”

Jungkook glanced at him. “You told me she’s the one.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “I told you she was the right girl from physiology class, not that you two were going to die holding hands or something,” Yoongi told him. “You filled the blanks yourself.”

“That’s why we don’t give away all those details,” Taehyung scolded Yoongi, looking at him up and down. Jungkook had never seen him so irritated before — at least not about serious things. “You know we could get in real big trouble if someone heard about that. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, it’s kind of the entire deal of heaven to know about stuff.” 

“I know, I know,” Yoongi groaned, disregarding his preoccupations. Maybe Taehyung didn’t understand his galaxy-brain plan yet, but he was sure that the heavens would. Or at least he hoped so. “But I think there’s something else that we need to focus on. Jungkook wouldn’t care this much about the other girls he dated, even if it was meant to be.” 

“Why are you two talking like I’m not here?” Jungkook asked, annoyed. 

“Why are you talking to yourself like you’re not in a corridor of an apartment building?” Yoongi threw back. Without a second of hesitation, Jungkook picked up his backpack and turned on his heels, walking down the hall, completely done with them. “Hey, come back. Just tell me what’s the fuzz with this one.” 

He didn’t look back. “Aren’t you two supposed to know? All-knowing and shit.” 

“We want to hear it from you,” Yoongi pressed on. 

Jungkook opened the heavy door to the stairwell, allowing for it to hit behind him. Taehyung and Yoongi passed right through it, of course, and kept following him as he quickly moved down the concrete steps. “Y/N is my friend.”

Yoongi hummed. “Go on.”

“Isn’t that enough for a justification? What else do you want from me?” He inquired, aggressive. The sound of his steps echoed like drums through the expansion of the staircase, and he hoped that no one else had been listening to his apparent monologue. “I don’t wanna ruin this friendship by talking about her masturbation techniques, I don’t know if that makes the situation super unique.” 

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “You have other friends.” 

“I care for her, alright?” Jungkook turned around abruptly, making the two ghosts stop in their tracks. Taehyung had almost lost his balance, but it wasn’t as if that could have any serious consequences for him. 

Jungkook sighed, trying to control the anger that had built up so rapidly, and continued speaking. “I care for her more than other friends. Fuck, is that what you two wanted to hear? Besides, it’s not like I know anyone better than her.  I didn’t even think I had a chance with someone like that until you told me. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s like… super hot when she’s mad—”

“Oh, would you look at that.” Yoongi grinned, satisfied. “Jungkook’s whipped.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “I’m not.”

“Why are you so red?” Taehyung asked.

Jungkook covered his face, feeling the heat of his checks emanating against his palms. “I’m not!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, tiger,” Yoongi raised his hands in a silent request for forgiveness.  They were still a few steps above Jungkook, and the whole scene looked like something straight out of the Book of Revelation. “This is a good thing, we actually thought it would never happen. It’s not like you’ve been this introspective in what… five years? More even.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Yoongi sighed, and looked at Taehyung for confirmation. The other ghost nodded in a silent agreement, and Yoongi started to speak. “Listen, we’re here to help you, but we didn’t say everything,” he admitted. “We couldn’t, really, otherwise it wouldn’t be so... organic.”

“What?” 

“Jungkook, you were desperate to lose your virginity,” Yoongi explained. “You still are, in a way. And that’s not a good thing, because you’ll get the first thing that moves and you’ll try to stick your dick in it.”

Taehyung chuckled drily, looking at a fixed point. “Which is not a good idea, believe me,” he spoke in a mumble, and Jungkook could not help but think that his advice came from personal experience. That, of course, was a story for other, less sober times. 

“Is that why the two of you always interrupt me?” He asked, a bit offended. “Because those girls weren’t right for me? Like this is a purity cult or something?” 

“Eh.” Yoongi did a so-so gesture with his hand. “Kind of. Not really. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you actually feel something for this girl, something beyond the thoughts that come from your lower head.”

“And she feels something for you too, even after that trainwreck that we just witnessed in there,” Taehyung added patiently. “Which will help us a lot in the long run.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Jungkook crossed his arms, stubborn. He really could look and sound like a child throwing a tantrum when he wanted to. “I still don’t get it. It wasn’t your place to tell me who I could or couldn’t be with, it’s not as if you guys are—” 

“Jungkook, that’s enough,” Taehyung interrupted him. “You don’t think it makes sense? Stop and think for once in your life.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?” 

Taehyung glanced at him. “Listen, we just saved you from months of wrong dates and wrong nights. We pushed away people who didn’t really care about you, who just wanted you to use you, or who would end up cheating on you anyways. Not everyone gets this privilege,” he said, completely done with that victim mentality. “So, for once in your life, be grateful. Be grateful for the bad dates,  the embarrassment, the times that it didn’t work out. And, look, we are sorry for the way they had to go down, it wasn’t as funny as it seemed from our perspective. But if you didn’t have those bad dates, you’d have very, very bad months following them. So you’re welcome.” 

“And all those bad dates lead you to the right person,” Yoongi completed, watching as Jungkook’s expression withered into shame. He was staring to get it — they could almost see the hamster in his brain start running. “Now, listen, we don’t know if this is the for-life situation, that’s not the kind of information we have, alright? Do I look like a seraphin to you? No. But does it matter?  No. Most relationships aren’t the for-life thing anyways, but they are here to teach you something. And if the afterlife thought that there was something good for you here, who are we to judge?” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung agreed. “Now, can you  please forget about all those past people and just focus on her? Maybe shut the fuck up while you do that? I get that you wanted to get your dick wet, but there’s a time and a place for that.” 

The boy sighed, and leaned against the red handrails. It took Jungkook a few seconds to speak out. “I feel like I’ve just been lectured by my parents,” he admitted. 

Taehyung relaxed his shoulders. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to slap some sense into you for months now, but I didn’t really have the permission.” 

“Feel better?” Jungkook asked.

He nodded. “Much better.”

“I’m happy for you,” he said. Jungkook ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over his eyes. “And about Y/N… There’s no way she’ll ever talk to me after this mess. I ruined everything.”

Taehyung nodded. “You pretty much did, yeah.” 

“You took the worst case scenario and managed to make it even more horrible,” Yoongi said. “It’s pretty impressive, actually.” 

“Thanks, that’s great.” Jungkook chuckled, humorless. He could always count on them for emotional support. “But, I mean… What do I do now? I mean, is there anything that we could do to save this?” 

“Worry not, my child,” Yoongi smirked, crossing his arms. “Taehyung and I are masters of seduction, and we’re here to help you. Just trust us.” 

“And before you say something,” Taehyung interrupted, raising one finger. “You never had the right girl before, so we weren’t really trying. I think we can find some real solid ground here.” 

Jungkook breathed out, and looked down at the grey stairs. Yeah, it’s not like he wasn’t at the bottom of the well already. “Fine. One last chance,” he agreed, looking back at the ghosts. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

______________

Much to Jungkook’s delight, he didn’t need to muster up the courage to talk to you, because you did that first. 

For the first time in their lives (and deaths), Yoongi and Taehyung actually did something right. Jungkook didn’t really know the details of their plan, all that he knew was that they would find a way to “make you see what you were missing” so that you would “come crawling back to him”. Which didn’t sound threatening at all.

 Countless possibilities crossed Jungkook’s head — horror movie hauntings, Taehyung invading your dreams with claws for fingers, Yoongi with a wet wig crawling out of your TV — but, in the end, no matter how much he insisted, the two of them just wouldn’t say a word. Apparently, there was a lot going on backstage that Jungkook had no idea about, so he should just “take it easy” and wait for the sequence of events to unravel. Amazing. Now he knew how the characters in Final Destination felt. 

“Just be patient, young one,” Taehyung had told him, thrown over his couch like a Victorian monarch. “All you need to know is that she will be back. Everything else it’s just… details.” 

And, two weeks after the dormitory incident, you did. 

There was a muffled thud as you placed your large books over the wooden table, and sat down across from him. The silence of the library didn’t allow for Jungkook to foresee your arrival, and to meet your gaze so suddenly was enough for his face to burn up in shame, his heart drumming against his ribcage. His sympathetic system really needed to quit with that bullshit before he collapsed. 

“Hey,” you mumbled, seeming just as uncomfortable as he was. “Can we talk? You know what about.”

The boy swallowed dry, and leaned a bit forward. “Y-Yeah, sure,” he whispered back. “I’m really sorry, Y/N, I don’t know why I thought—”

“For how long?” you sliced his sentence short, making his lips fall shut. 

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

You cleared your throat, and shuffled on your seat. As much as the library was practically empty, neither of you felt courageous enough to use your usual voice tone — especially when dealing with that subject. “How long have you been able to, you know, see them?”

Jungkook took a second to respond, licking his dry lips and looking at the line of bookshelves as if seeking for the right thing to say. He felt awkward enough just interacting with someone from the opposite sex, but talking about the ghosts he saw? Hell, that bordered on a panic attack. Especially after the circus show that was that past study session. “Almost two years now, I think,” he finally answered. “But they told me they’ve been around for a bit longer. I just couldn’t see it.” 

You shook your head in concordance, even if the information was everything but easy to understand. “That’s crazy,” you spoke. “I don’t know how you deal with it.” 

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. “Not very well, as you can probably tell.” 

 “I don’t think I can judge you. I didn’t precisely react well either.” You swallowed dry, wide eyes flickering on the world behind Jungkook. “Are we alone now?”

As much as he already knew the answer, he looked around just to check. “Surprisingly, yeah,” Jungkook responded, slightly suspicious. Yoongi and Taehyung were always looking over his shoulder and throwing him into messy situations, he couldn’t tell why they weren’t there when, quite frankly, it was their perfect shot at humiliation. Maybe they really were doing their jobs for once. “I don’t know why they’re not here. That’s weird.”

You shrugged as if to say that you wouldn’t know either. “What are their names again?”

“Yoongi and Taehyung,” he answered, then waited another second to see if he could feel their presence. Nothing again. That was really strange — they often responded upon being called. “Listen, Y/N, I hate what we went through. They had no right to say those things. I’m used to the privacy issues, since I have been with them for a while. But you aren’t, and I can only imagine how weird you felt hearing all that. I’m really, really sorry.”

You pressed your lips together which, Jungkook guessed, was a failed attempt to suppress the rubor that exploded across your cheeks. He couldn’t blame you, though, for there were limits that were crossed. “I’m over it if you are,” was what you forced yourself to say. 

“I am,” he lied. None of you were particularly good at not telling the truth, and that was pretty obvious. But ignoring it was a start. 

“Good, okay.” You cleared your throat, placing the palms of your hands against the pile of books. “Sorry for lying about needing help in physiology, and all that. I just needed an excuse to spend more time with you, as you know now. I guess it’s obvious that I kinda have a huge crush on you.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook laughed, extremely relieved to notice that your last sentence was in present tense. “I kinda have a huge crush on you too.” 

Honestly, even if it wasn’t for life, he’d have to give you props for still liking a guy that had had a borderline psychotic breakdown in your apartment, talked about your pet tortoise, and your masturbation technique, and still had the nerve to expose you to the supernatural world. It was a lot. Good on you for taking it like a champ. 

“And,” he continued, “sorry for using my ghosts to expose your secrets. I just needed to find a way for you to believe me, and I had no idea about what they were going to say. I was pretty much in a frenzied state, I wasn’t thinking straight. It won’t happen again.” 

“Apologies accepted.” You smiled, relieved. You were really beautiful, Jungkook thought in a breathless instant. He could look at you all day. “You know, it’s going to take me some time to get used to all that. I mean, I’m still not a hundred percent sure I believe in everything, but, I… My lamp flew across the room, and you told me things that you simply couldn’t know about. So, if it’s a prank, it’s a really good one.”

“I know how it is.” He nodded in agreement. “It was really difficult for me at first, too. I understand if you’d rather just stay away from me from now on.” 

You sighed, looking down at your books —  the two mammoth-sized volumes of Harrison’s Internal Medicine staring at you in mockery. “Weird thing is: I don’t really want to.” You crossed your arms and leaned back against the chair. Was that the sound of angels singing? Jungkook couldn’t tell. “I’d love to spend more time with you. Alone, if possible. And that counts both planes of existence.” 

“Sounds fair, I’d love that.” Jungkook smiled. As he met your eyes, he was filled with a  warm, rose-colored courage that he had never felt before. “Actually, I was wondering if, you know… you wanna do something? With me? Alone, of course. No ghosts. One of these days, I don’t know. If you’re not busy—”

You raised your eyebrows, interested. “You’re asking me out?”

He sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. “Trying, yeah. You can see I’m not the best at that either.”

Your smile grew a little. “That’s a big yes.”

“Really?” Jungkook stared at you like a lost puppy, his mind going completely blank for a second or two. The hamster in his brain was now somersaulting through his body, landing on his stomach and hitting him with a wave of nausea. “Wow, thanks. I don’t really have an idea of what we could do, though. Didn’t think I’d get that far.”

There was an instant of quietude as you thought for a moment, the space between the two of you permeated by the vague sounds of pages turning. “Movies?” You asked. 

“Sounds great.” Jungkook smiled openly, his shoulders falling in alleviation. He didn’t know what Taehyung and Yoongi had done, but he was beyond thankful for it. Seemed like their sacrifices weren’t in vain, after all. “The film majors are doing this 2000’s marathon this week. I think this Saturday it’ll be either Mean Girls or 17 Again.”

“I’m in,” you spoke excitedly. “I’ll be there, just text me the details.”

Jungkook almost swallowed his own tongue as he watched you stand up, presenting him with a gorgeous view of thighs beneath the level of your skirt. “Great!” He exclaimed a bit too loud, his voice a bit too high-pitched, awakening his inner thirteen-year-old. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice another octave. “I mean, yeah, great. Thank you for… saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking.” You placed your hair behind your shoulder, and leaned in to pick up the heavy pile of books. All nine kilos of Internal Medicine. 

“See you there,” he said. 

You smiled. “See you, Kookie.” 

Jungkook watched you walk away as if he was floating in a fever dream, completely unable to believe what had just unfolded. Did he seriously manage to get a date with you? Of all people? He must’ve been hallucinating. Maybe he ended up falling down the stairwell and died, perhaps that was his heaven, and he would— 

Behind him, Taehyung sneered. “Kookie? You’re getting softer than your dick.” 

Jungkook turned around so brusquely that the chair tilted back and, if it wasn’t for him holding down to the corner of the table, he would’ve fallen to the ground. “You two were there all along?” He whispered-screamed. Before he could land a sermon on them, though, he met the devilish smirk that was plastered all over Yoongi’s features. Oh no. No. The movies. “No, Yoongi, I know what you’re thinki—”

“Get in, loser, we’re going to the movies.” 

_________________

Saturday rolled around and, with it, came your much anticipated movie date. Jungkook had spent the previous night tossing and turning on his bed, completely monopolized by anxiety, thinking about every possible apocalyptic scenario that could go down. What if he tried to take a slip of his drink, but ended up blinding himself with the straw? Maybe he would step on the wrong chord and set the entire college on fire. Or maybe he would trip, fall down on a poor girl, and kill her on the spot. That would be awful, you would never talk to him again after any of that — the imaginary disappointment in your face was like a punch in the gut. 

Was he being ridiculous? Obviously. Did that stop his pre-date panic? Obviously not. 

Still, with the might of a thousand warriors, Jungkook managed to drag himself to your date, his knees almost giving out beneath him when he saw you — he didn’t believe you would actually come, for some of him still thought it was all a sadistic heaven prank. Somehow, he blurted out a compliment about how good you looked while he was having a heart attack, and almost lost his consciousness when you smiled at him. 

Yep, it would be a difficult night. 

The movie marathon consisted of three 2000’s movies, and the two of you managed to arrive right before Mean Girls started, fumbling on your seats as the rest of the room grew quiet. The makeshift classroom didn’t look like a movie theater in the slightest, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting that in the first place — it was nothing more than an agglomeration of chairs and desks, combined with a few puff chairs and old couches scattered around. Much to your delight, you and Jungkook managed to grab one of those couches before another couple returned to their seats, and he could see that his ghost buddies had already found their own place on the empty chairs behind the two of you. 

Surprise! None of the catastrophic scenarios in his mind actually came true. In fact, he had a great time with you, laughing at your jokes and sometimes flat-out stealing Yoongi’s commentary just to make you chuckle, which granted him a few mumbled complaints coming from the back row. 

“Jungkook is so superior, don’t you think, Taehyung?” Yoongi mocked, and Jungkook was sure that he would be kicking his seat if he could. “So smart. So great. But can’t even figure out his own jokes. Has to steal them from a poor dead man. You’re a grave robber.” 

Taehyung chuckled. “Hey, you’re helping him, at least. That’s our whole point here.”

“Grave robber!” he repeated, more aggressively this time. “I can’t believe you’d ruin Mean Girls for me like this. Not even hell would be so cruel.” 

“How dare you say that about hell? If I get in trouble because you can’t keep your mouth shut, Yoongi, I swear to God—”

“Now you’re saying God’s name in vain, you heretic! That’s so much worse!” 

Jungkook had to bite back a laugh as the two continued bickering behind him, only half aware of the scene in which Regina George glued her own picture on the burn book. He didn’t know when exactly he had done it — he had been so on edge the entire night that it was almost as if his own brain was instantly deleting his memories, but he had managed to curl one arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He was sure that you could hear the frantic heartbeat of his heart against his chest, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t think he could even get that far. 

But he did, and even reached beyond that. 

Once the screen faded to black and the credits started appearing, there was a resounding wave of claps in the room, cheering for the absolute cultural reset that was that movie. One of the students moved to the front of the room, explaining that they would take a ten minutes break, then would return with She’s All That. Apparently, 1999 was close enough to the 2000’s for it to be picked as well. 

“Do you wanna stay and watch it?” He asked, fighting every muscle in his body not to smell your hair. He knew that it would be super creepy, yeah, but your head was right there and it smelled so good. 

You removed your body from his chest, looking up at him. “I would love to, but I have to wake up early tomorrow to study,” you said. “Big test on Monday.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, slightly let down. To be honest, he had completely forgotten that information until that point. Seems like he would have a lot to catch up on during the next day. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.” 

You thanked him with a smile, and you two got moving. 

The walk back to your place wasn’t exactly awkward, but it could have also been a lot better. The two of you talked about the movie animatedly, the subject that you had to study — an awful amount of gastric pathology to memorize — and, eventually, landed on your weirdest experiences during hospital rounds. You were in the middle of telling him how two toddlers (twins) managed to puke on you at the same time, and how you thought that was a sign of a telepathic connection between the two, when he felt the back of his hand brush against yours, and everything around him turned into static. Suddenly, it was all that he could think about. 

Jungkook had already spent the entire date with questions flying around his head. When was the right time to pull you close? Could he hold your hand, or would that be too bold? Could you smell how sweaty he was? Or maybe his deodorant was too strong? If he ran away, trained to be an astronaut, and joined the Mars colonization mission, would he be able to avoid embarrassing himself again? 

And, more importantly: would it be weird to kiss you goodnight? 

Considering the fact that he had no clue how to read your body language, and that almost all of his romantic experience came from bad sitcoms and Twilight marathons with Yoongi, Jungkook didn’t judge himself suited to answer that last question. He didn’t know if he should hold your hand, he didn’t know if you were just being polite or if you actually had a good time. Again and again, his anxiety got the best of him. He should really get back to seeing his campus counselor. 

“So… we’re here,” you said, holding your hands in front of your body. You had stopped at the entrance of your block, and Jungkook took that as a sign that you didn’t want him to go all the way back to your apartment. Fair enough. “Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun. We should do this again sometimes.” 

“For sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, somewhat relieved that you asked for that. At least that was a clear sign that you didn’t completely hate him. “That would be great.” 

You agreed and looked down at your shoes. The darkness of the night enveloped the two of you, only half of your features illuminated by the dim yellow shine of the nearest light post. Jungkook almost fainted when you stared into his eyes, with a faint blush painting your cheeks, and questioned, “So, you’re not gonna kiss me?” 

Windows’ blue screen. Please, hold.

 “I… I, uh—” Jungkook’s mouth felt as if he had just swallowed an entire desert, his brain fighting to keep his voice steady. Your eyes, so focused and expectant, felt like daggers against his chest. “I didn’t know if you wanted to,” he finally admitted. 

Your shoulders fell as a tender smile curled up on your roseate lips. Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. “I do,” you told him gently. His heart almost leaped out of his throat. “Do you want to?” 

And that was the easiest question that he would ever answer. “Yeah,” Jungkook said. 

You smiled. “Perfect.” 

The boy barely had time to react before your hand was curling around the fabric of his shirt, and you pulled him towards you in a playful tug. Jungkook’s eyes stayed comically widened for a second after your lips met, but, soon enough, he allowed himself to melt into your embrace, his nervous hands landing on your waist, and his mind instantly calming down. 

He kissed you slowly, carefully, almost afraid that, at the faintest of movements, reality would shatter and he would lose that moment forever. Of course, it didn’t, and he stayed on that instant a bit longer before, at last, he pulled away, slightly breathless. 

“I should’ve done that sooner,” he confessed. 

You tilted your head at him, fingers playing with his hair. “It happened at the right time,” you said. “Some things can’t be rushed. Especially the good ones.” 

Just like that, he understood what Taehyung and Yoongi had been saying all those years. No matter how cliche it was, there was some truth to the saying that ‘what is supposed to happen, will’. And, the better that something is, the more work it will require. 

But, as he kissed you again, Jungkook realized that it was all worth it in the end.

____________

The following months by your side were so amazing that Jungkook constantly brought back his theory that “maybe he was actually dead, and that was heaven.” And, if it was, he would make sure to shake God’s hand himself because, holy fuck, was he one lucky man. 

Okay, maybe the first few weeks together were a bit painfully cringe-worthy, but he was really trying to pretend as if they didn’t happen. Jungkook didn’t really get the memo, and he had to slowly figure out how to behave romantically with you. He got it wrong the first few times — kissing you at the worst possible moment, or sending you a huge bouquet of roses during your microbiology exam — but, eventually, you guided him towards more neutral grounds. Then everything went smoothly. 

Surprisingly, even the undead duo calmed down for a while. Yoongi and Taehyung were still around, since they had no other option, but were much quieter now, only making punctual remarks when Jungkook made a fool out of himself. Hell, they even left the room when things started getting more serious between the two of you, instead of giving Cosmopolitan-worthy advice, and that was a huge improvement. 

But, of course, it wouldn’t be Jungkook’s life if there wasn’t a huge joke waiting just around the corner. Soon enough, another issue would present itself. 

It came in the form of a warm mumble against his lips, and the vague — yet deliciously noticeable — rolling of your hips against his own. “Jungkook,” you called, breathless after a long make-out session. The two of you were on his couch, with you sitting on his lap, straddling him. “I want you.” 

He froze. What else would he do? Jungkook was a panicked virgin. He knew that your intimate times would happen eventually — and he really wanted them to — but he didn’t expect that his mind would completely malfunction once he got so close, with his erection growing inside his pants and the softness of your breasts pressing against his torso. It was just a lot, alright? 

And, lost amidst the tempestuous sea of his sudden despair, all that he could utter back was, “Are… Are you sure you want to do this right now?” 

“Yeah.” You placed a strand of hair behind your ear. Jungkook thought that he could faint on the spot. It was actually a pretty common sensation with him. “You don’t want it?”

“No — I mean yeah! Yeah, I want it.” He choked on his words, looking down in embarrassment, only to meet the contour of your thighs. His youth leader had been right all along: temptation was everywhere. “I’m just… I’ve never done anything before.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down, placing your hands on his shoulders. The heat of your palms seemed to have some effect on the chaotic emotions that boiled inside him, for his muscles relaxed considerably under your touch. “I won’t pressure you, okay? If you want to take more time, it’s completely fine.” 

“No, it’s not like that. I don’t feel pressured.” He shook his head, then looked up at you. You could almost feel the conflict inside his gaze, the mixture of anticipation and fear that you knew all too well. “I want you, Y/N, I really do. I’m just nervous.”

“It’s fine,” you repeated. “We don’t have to do anything now, and we can start slo—”

But he couldn’t listen to the end of your phrase, because a familiar voice damn near hollered from the other side of the room. “Taehyung, come in here! Quick!” Yoongi yelled, signaling through the door like he was controlling the air traffic. “He’s getting some! Jungkook’s about to get his cherry popped the fuck off!” 

You tilted your head to the side, staring him down with preoccupation. “Jungkook? Are you okay?”

“The fuck! There is no fucking way!” Taehyung’s voice got louder as he yelled, signaling his growing proximity. “Call NASA right now!”

Jungkook sighed, throwing his head against the couch. Goodbye erection, and goodbye any chance of having sex that day. “Yoongi and Taehyung just showed up,” he mumbled bitterly. 

You lowered your gaze and took a deep breath, then removed yourself from his lap. Jungkook hated the lack of heat, and he swore he would have drop-kicked the two if they weren’t in a different dimension. The certainty of death was all that he needed to know that he would get his revenge some day. “Of course they did,” you complained, fixing your clothes. “I love being cockblocked by cockless ghosts. Again.”

“Hey!” Taehyung sounded actually offended. 

Jungkook turned around harshly, his voice bitter. “Can the two of you just fuck off? This is not the time.” 

“So you two can fuck?” Yoongi grinned, then looked at Taehyung. “We should, actually.”

“Jungkook… this is too weird now.” You raised your hands in a silent bargain for it all to stop. You could deal with a few psychic sessions every once in a while, but being a voyeurism victim for ghosts wouldn’t be the way you wanted to spend your afternoon. “Let’s do this another time, okay? I should get going anyways. Big day at the hospital tomorrow.” 

He took one of his hands to his face, massaging his temple. You got up from the couch, reaching for your backpack. “Yeah, okay.” The boy pouted, and you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. Disappointing end for a night, to say the least. “Good luck tomorrow. Text me if you get an interesting case!”  

“Thanks! I will.” You threw your backpack strap over your shoulder and started walking towards the exit. Jungkook couldn’t blame you for just wanting to leave that place as soon as possible, he was sure that the discomfort was much worse for you. “Bye, Jungkook! I’ll let you know when I get to my place.”

He opened his mouth to thank you, but you were already out the door. The lock clicked shut, and the silence became thick, mocking him. Even if he already had an actual girlfriend, Jungkook still found himself being left behind by someone that would never want to see him again — dick semi-hard and morale shattered on the ground. Seems like he always found himself back in that position. 

Taehyung materialized on the couch next to him, hugging his knees. He was staring at the closed door, somewhat expecting that you would come back, but knowing very well that you wouldn’t do so. “Okay, I accept that it was our fault,” he said, oscillating his gaze towards Jungkook. “Sorry, man. We are like, super invested in this. There’s almost nothing interesting going on in the afterlife and this is, like, better than any TV show airing right now.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, utterly exhausted at the mess that had become his life. He was done giving them sermons: it had basically turned into the world’s worst pastime and gave little to no results. “You know what? Just promise me you’re not going to show up next time.” He stared both of them down. “I don’t wanna be watched, that’s just weird. And I know that Y/N isn’t happy about that either.” 

Yoongi shrugged. “Some people like it.” 

“Yeah, I’m not one of those people,” he told him. “Guys, please. I know you two are as excited as I am about this, and I appreciate your... support, but I think this is something I need to do alone. In peace. Not being watched by spirits. That’s isn’t too much to ask.”  

“He’s right, you know?” Taehyung said, looking back at Yoongi. “We should stay in our lane for now.” 

The other ghost looked down at his feet, which basically morphed into the carpet beneath them. For the first time in two long years, he actually seemed like he was rethinking his actions. “Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi responded. “We got carried away. We’ll leave next time. Maybe try something when your neighbors are having a movie night.” 

Jungkook’s shoulders fell in alleviation.  Maybe not everything was doomed. “Thank you,” he spoke, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll probably do that. When is the next one?” 

Taehyung looked at Yoongi, then back at him. “What are the chances that you’re gonna get your virgin shit together by tomorrow night?”  

___________

Slim to none, actually, but he had managed to (kind of) do it. Focus on the “kind of.”

Jungkook had spent the previous night doing in-depth research about sexual intercourse,  and basing his actions in real-life situations. That meant that he stayed up until four in the morning watching porn. Not masturbating. Just watching it very closely and trying to learn what to do — like an actual serial killer. 

“Do you think that this is… a good idea?” Taehyung spoke from the other side of his room, preoccupation plastered all over his face. The whole porn-science was funny for the first twenty minutes, and then it just ended up being terrifying. “You know that people don’t actually have sex like that, right? It’s all exaggerated.” 

“Quiet!” Jungkook raised his finger after a particularly loud moan echoed, his eyes red and glued to the computer screen. The white light from his device was awfully sharp, bathing his figure and making his image border on demonic. It really wasn’t a good look. “I’m researching. I need to know what to do.” 

“You look and sound like a maniac.” Taehyung walked closer to the bed, measuring his movements. After he died, he thought that he would never be afraid of any other living thing — but Jungkook had just proved him wrong. Against his best judgement, he took a peek at the screen. “No! Oh my— That’s not natural. That’s so wrong. You should know, you studied anatomy.” 

“I’m not gonna do this tomorrow,” Jungkook mumbled, closing the video. Taehyung recoiled back to the darkness of the room like a vampire that had just been touched by the sun. “The plot was interesting.” 

“You’re not even hard, man,” he said, pointing at Jungkook’s trousers. “This is like, really weird. You should stop before you have some problem getting it up tomorrow.” 

“What are you trying to say?” He narrowed his eyes, paranoid. “That wouldn’t happen. I know what I can do.”  

“You’re the medical student, take a look,” Taehyung insisted. “There’s research about that, pornography affects young men and women a lot and— Actually, what the fuck am I talking about? This is crazy. I should’ve left with Yoongi.” 

“Wait, I just—” Jungkook closed his computer with a sigh. His hair was disheveled and his gaze was unfocused. It really was the oddest night in Taehyung’s life/death. “I just don’t know what to do tomorrow. I’m about to have an anxiety attack. It’s like the third one tonight.” 

Taehyung pressed his lips together, the discomfort inside him being replaced by a warm sense of understanding. “Man, she knows you don’t have experience. She isn’t expecting a porn star performance, or whatever the fuck you were just watching.” He pointed to the computer, which was now neglected amongst the sea of blankets. “By the way, I’m a changed spirit. I hate you for making me see that.” 

Jungkook would have laughed at his distress if he wasn’t too tired to do that. “Technically, you decided to look at it yourself,” he corrected. “But, yeah, I know she’s not expecting anything great. But I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself, you know? Not like it’s a rare occasion or anything.” 

Taehyung shrugged. Being alive made everything seem so much more important than it actually was, he thought. “Lay back and let her take the lead, then.” 

Jungkook furrowed his brow, his eyes widening at the idea. Of course! That was the big  galaxy brain moment he needed all along. “Are you serious? It’s that simple?” He asked, hopeful. 

Taehyung chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

Yeah. It was that simple. Who would’ve thought that those see-through idiots actually would have something intelligent to say? 

Really, it was a time of miracles in Jungkook’s life. The following day, the planets aligned and, for the first time ever since puberty, everything went right for him: the class ended a bit early, his neighbors decided to watch two movies instead of one, and his place was perfectly devoid of any paranormal activity by the time you wandered into it. 

He didn’t tell you that he had planned that entire thing before it happened — he thought it would be super strange to schedule his virginity loss out loud — and he was glad to see that everything evolved naturally. One hour and forty minutes after you arrived, you two were already at the same point that you had left the day before — only, this time, you two actually managed to get to his bed.

“They’re not here, are they? You’re sure?” You asked in between kisses for what should’ve been the fifth time. 

“No, I asked them to leave earlier.” Jungkook’s hands pressed down on your hips, the sensation of your center rolling against his erection eliciting a sigh from him. Ha! Fuck Taehyung and his soft dick curse. “I actually… Before we do anything, I actually wanted to know if you could, you know, help me a little.” 

You hummed, taking your face away from his. Jungkook watched as you licked your lips, your eyes dazed, and leaned in to place another kiss against his mouth. “In what way?” You asked. 

“Just... show me what to do,” he said. “What you like, if I’m doing something wrong… everything.” 

With a soft smile, you agreed, arms curling around his shoulders. “Of course,” you told him. “It’ll be my pleasure.” 

That being said, you dove back to his lips, feeling as he both simultaneously relaxed and tensed up under your touches. Jungkook had evolved a lot in those past few months, you realized, since the early-dating version of him wouldn’t find himself in that position without turning into a stuttering, blushing mess beneath you. It was kind of cute, but you’d never say that out loud. 

You felt his hands trailing up your back, underneath your clothes, his palms dwelling in the softness of your skin for a moment before, in a courageous movement, he decided to pull your shirt up. There was a short separation of your mouths as the piece of clothing slid up your arms, and collapsed against the floor in a puddle of cotton. 

Jungkook sighed once he felt the lace of your bra against his hands; the softness of your breasts was something that he continuously daydreamed about. Now, without the barrier of your clothes, all that he needed was to remove that last constriction and he would be— 

“Oh well…” He chuckled nervously, fumbling with your bra. “Sorry, I don’t know how to open this.”

You smiled at the embarrassment that danced around his features. “Relax, okay?” You said, moving your hands to your back and taking care of that problem yourself. You’d teach him about the magic of unclasping bras another time. “It’s fine.”

But Jungkook didn’t have time to think about an answer, for soon your bra was meeting your shirt on the floor. His reaction would’ve been the same if you just moved over and came back with a baby dinosaur in your hands — his eyes widening in amazement as he took in the image of your nude breasts, a small whimper perishing in his throat as he slithered his hands upward, cupping them. 

Your breath stopped for a moment when he leaned in, reluctant, and enveloped one of your nipples with his warm mouth, his tongue delicately coming out to trace circles on your sensitive flesh. Jungkook groaned at the sensation, his cock becoming unbearably hard against his pants, and tilted your body over so he could be on top of you. 

You curled up against the sheets, sighing in delight as the boy continued to work on your breasts, kissing and sucking lightly, taking his time. Every time you looked down, you could see that Jungkook was having almost as much fun as you, the small moans that dripped from his tongue vibrating inside your chest. 

“Does it feel good?” He raised his gaze towards you, expectant. “Am I doing a good job?” 

“Yes, very good.” Your hands curled around the roots of his hair. The action was gentle, but Jungkook shuddered under the sensation — every small movement proved itself to be a lot for him to handle. “You’re doing amazing. Is there something that you want to do, Kookie?” 

The boy licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Part of him (probably the sleep deprived one) still didn’t believe that you two were actually doing that — that it wasn’t just a figment of his horny imagination. No, it was real. You were right there in front of him, beautiful and devastating, caressing his hair as you waited for an answer. 

“I… I want to make you feel good,” he said, wide-eyed and hesitant. His dick felt painfully hard being so constructed by his pants and, suddenly, he became aware of how clothed he still was. No wonder it was so hot. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” 

Your lips curled up at his adorableness, one of your hands meeting his wrist. Patiently, you guided it down, and placed it on the hem of your pants. “Can you touch me?” You questioned. “I can tell you what I like.” 

“Oh, please,” he almost pleaded, his hand already fumbling to open your pants. Much to his delight, those were a lot easier than your bra, and they were soon sliding down your legs with ease. 

He took a moment to take in your form, eyes traveling up from your legs, to your hips, then all the way back to your breasts. As Jungkook met your gaze, he allowed for a suspire of relief to depart from his mouth, shoulders relaxing. “I’m so lucky,” he spoke, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

The smile that you presented him looked brighter than all of the stars above. “Come here,” you called, leaning against your elbows. “Give me a kiss.” 

Obedient, Jungkook did as you requested, a grunt escaping his chest once you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, nails brushing lightly against the skin of his neck. He had goosebumps at the sensation, his hand moving by its own will, navigating down your stomach and towards your heat. 

His fingers hovered, insecure, over the hem of your panties for a moment. Still, at the sound of his name being spoken against the kiss, he was overtaken by an ephemeral spark of courage. Soon, your panties were on the floor too. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Jungkook whined at the contact, his fingers dwelling just above your entrance. Inside his pants, his cock twitched at the sensation, his lower body already tingling with excitement. He didn’t know how he would manage not to cum in his pants, but he would have to find a way. “What do I do now?” 

“Now...” you said, leaning your head against the pillow. “Move up and find my clit. Make all those hours of anatomy worth it,” you joked. 

Jungkook nodded, but anatomy was much more difficult when he wasn’t actually looking at a certain part of the body — he was much more interested in watching your expression. Embarrassed, he did as you requested, trailing his wet fingers up until you told him to stop. “Right there,” you said, sighing once you felt his hand pressing down on it, starting to trace small circular patterns. “That’s it, baby, great job.” 

His heart leaped at the compliment, and his actions became firmer. Jungkook thought he would go insane when he heard you whimper and cry out at the sensation, your hips bucking up against his hand ever so slightly. “You’re so hot,” he breathlessly confessed, his words coming in a hot puff of air against your neck. His digits slowly trailed down, towards your entrance, and he paused. “Can I?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

Jungkook swallowed hard, adventuring one finger inside you. At the sensation of your walls clenching around him, he moaned, biting his lip. “God, you’re so tight,” he told you, adding a second finger. You raised your hips at the contact, hands curling on his hair. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” 

His mouth came back to your breasts, sucking and licking your flesh. Jungkook was a mess, you realized — pressing down his hard member against your thigh, whining against your skin as his fingers curled inside you, sinking into your wetness. God, you weren’t made of steel. “I want it,” you told him, and he didn’t understand your words for a moment. “I want to feel you, Jungkook.” 

And he didn’t need anything else. The boy moved away from your body and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes. It was no time for hesitation— he didn’t know how much of his precious alone time he had left. “Condoms.” He pointed at his nightstand. “Top drawer.” 

You turned around on the bed, reaching for the furniture as the boy unbuckled his belt and clumsily removed his pants. The mattress bounced beneath you as Jungkook tossed himself around, finding a way to lose his balance as he threw his pants on the ground. Much to his relief, you weren’t paying much attention to it. 

He was already panting — in a mixture of excitement and his pathetic effort to remove his pants — by the time that you gave him the condom. “Do you put it on, or do you want me to?” You asked. 

Jungkook had trained on enough bananas to know that he could do it, but he wasn’t gonna let the chance to have you touching him down there pass. “You do it, please.” 

You nodded, sitting next to his expectant figure. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in anticipation, his muscles glistening with the small droplets of sweat that decorated his caramel skin.  His cock was hard and heavy against the fabric of his grey underwear, practically calling for your care. 

Attentively, you watched as his abdomen tensed up at the feeling of one of your hands pressing down against his clothed erection, delicately moving towards his crown. A gasp tumbled from his lips as you rolled your thumb against it, noticing the wetness that had already accumulated beneath your hand, and he rolled his hips against the pressure. Really, Jungkook was too precious. 

“Please, don’t tease,” he begged, eyes following your every move. His cock throbbed in your hands, needy. “I don’t think I can hold it much longer.” 

With a hum of agreement, you moved your hand away from his erection, and pulled his underwear down gently. Jungkook whimpered at the fiction, and the way his cock was freed from its constraints, bouncing back against his abdomen. The smallest of touches was more than enough for him to lose himself. 

“Shhh, it’s fine,” you calmed him down, slowly (too slowly) rolling the condom on him. His hands clenched into fists next to him, grabbing handfuls of the white sheets. Okay, maybe you were being a bit mean. “Just tell me what you want.” 

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, holding back a cry of frustration. “Ride me, please,” his words came out in a plea, his expression so permeated by need that you thought that he could cry if you teased him any further. God, everything was so perfect about him — the glistening in his onyx irises, the reddening of his lips as he bit down on them, trying to fight back a whimper as you placed yourself over him. “I— I need to feel you. I’m going crazy.” 

There was no need for more convincing — again, you weren’t made of steel. 

You sighed as you sank down on his member, one of your hands finding support against his pecs, as the other curled around his cock, guiding him inside you. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head against the alabaster pillow, his flower-like lips opening to cry out at the sensation. “Oh fuck,” he cursed. “Oh, baby, that’s so good.” 

Seeing him like that, so submissive, so deliciously responsive to your faintest of touches, was, at the very least, extremely erotic. You loved to see the way he flinched and whined at the sensation of your walls clenching around him, his hands unsure of where they should be on your body. Awfully slow, you rose your hips from him, almost letting him slip out, before you shifted your weight back down, watching as Jungkook moaned out your name. 

God, he was really about to fall apart. 

Slowly, you began setting a pace, moving up and down on his cock. It was a lot slower than Jungkook expected, but it was just the right speed to make him appreciate every sensation of your body wrapping his own. 

“Feels good?” you asked, a bit breathless. The sensation of him filling you up was even better than you had anticipated, and, combined with his shameless exclamations of pleasure, you didn’t think that you’d last much longer either. 

Before he could answer, a tremulous sigh ruptured upon his mouth, reverberating just behind his teeth. Jungkook took another second to find his words, inhaling sharply. “So good,” he spoke, and you almost whined out at the lust that ornamented his voice. “Can you move faster? Please?” 

Maybe in different times, you’d take your time to provoke him a bit more. At that point, though, you’d do anything he wanted you to. “Yeah,” you agreed, doing as requested. The sound of your wetness and the slapping of skin against skin was lewd, filling the room alongside Jungkook’s voice. “Like this?”  

“Fuck, yeah, like this,” he cried out, closing his eyes in absolute euphoria. He could feel the movement of your asscheeks against his palms, the sensation enough to drive him insane. Jungkook was already amazed at the fact that he didn’t embarrass himself with premature ejaculation the second that you removed his underwear — but it didn’t mean that he didn’t get close to it. The second his hands squeezed your ass, he was positive he would end the game a bit earlier than the two of you would like. “It— it feels so good. Please, don’t stop.” 

With a moan, you threw your body forward, placing kisses on the curvature of his neck, a sensation that quickly sent shivers down his skin. The new angle made his cock hit even deeper inside you, causing for you both to melt in pleasure. “You feel so good,” you told him, nails digging against his flesh. The knot in your stomach was all too familiar, and you knew that you wouldn’t take much longer. “I love having you inside me.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s good.” He mumbled, only half aware of the words leaving his lips. Jungkook’s eyes were dazed and unfocused, looking at nowhere in particular, his fingertips digging in your flesh. “You’re… you’re getting tighter.” 

“Y-Yeah,” you agreed, voice coming out in a moan. “I’m close.” 

He swallowed hard. “I can help,” he said. 

Before you could ask what he was trying to do, Jungkook moved his hand back to your center, two of his fingers playing with your clit. You gasped at the sensation, eyes closing as you kept riding him, rolling your hips, feeling as he reached for every part of you. It was all becoming too much, the pleasure that decorated his features, the  delicious friction of his body against yours, the frail moans that dropped from his tongue like honey. He was just too much. 

With a faint call of his name — a melody that would be stuck in his head forever —, you finally crossed the threshold of your orgasm, and came around him; morphing into a trembling and moaning mess. Jungkook watched, in absolute awe, as your face was monopolized by bliss, your teeth sinking down on your bottom lip and your eyes rolling back. 

He removed his hand from your heat, placing it on your waist. Using every final ounce of energy in your body, you continued riding him. Through parted lids, you noticed that his thighs were starting to shake, signaling that he, too, was close. “Baby,” the boy called out, his fingers digging to the sides of your hips. Jungkook was both trying to guide your movements, and hold himself back to reality. It was a beautiful view — the way his expression lingered somewhere between delight and distress; his hips mindlessly trusting up against yours. “I think I’m gonna cum.” 

You breathed out through your nose, trying to ignore the pleasure that, now, was turning into sensitivity. It felt good, in a way, but you were more focused on his relief at that point. “It’s okay, Kookie,” you told him, “you can let go.”

He had been so polite the entire time, with his “please” and “thank you’s. So, of course, when you told him that it was okay for him to cum, he did just as you requested. 

Jungkook came with gasping breaths and a trembling, high-pitched moan, holding on to you as he thrusted his last sloppy advances towards your core. His hands, weak, fell on the bed besides him, clenching the sheets; eyelashes fluttering down as he dwelled on the afterglow of his pleasure. You could stay there forever, looking at the pink shade that colored his cheeks; the beautiful mess that his black hair had turned into; or the tears of relief that accumulated at the corner of his eyes. 

But everything has to end, even the most beautiful ones. 

His tongue came out to wet his lips, and his eyes, still hooded, met yours. Not even the biggest minds in the renaissance could’ve thought of an image so perfect, so ethereal. “You’re so amazing,” he praised. “That was… amazing.” 

You smiled and leaned in to place a soft kiss against his lips. His member slipped out of you at the action, and his arms curled around your waist, keeping you in place. “You did pretty well,” you mumbled as you lazily curled up against his chest. Jungkook’s body was a delicious source of heat, and you could really get used to that. “I see a bright future ahead of you.”

He hummed, caressing your hair. Jungkook could finally smell it without being creepy, so that was a big victory for him. “You did most of the work,” he said. 

“That’s not an issue.” You nuzzled his neck, pleasantly feeling as goosebumps spread throughout his body. Always so responsive. “I’ll let you take the lead next time, if that sounds good to you.”

Jungkook chuckled. “That’d be great, yeah,” he agreed. Part of him thought about using a few tricks he learned during his late-night research, but he wasn’t super sure that it would be a good idea. Maybe he should keep that card up his sleeve for a bit longer in case he needed to surprise you later. “Do you want to spend the night? It’s kind of late to go back to your place now.”

The words fell from his tongue with ease, surprising the boy for an instant. He noticed that he was much more comfortable in your presence, like the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. Not because of the sex itself, he realized, but because of the vulnerability and intimacy that came with it. It happened just as it was supposed to. 

 “I’d love to.” You smiled, and placed a kiss against his neck. “But I’m going to kick you out if you start snoring.” 

“Out of my own place?” He asked. 

You sighed, voice filled by traces of your upcoming slumber. “Don’t you test me,” you spoke, wrapping your arms around him. “Medical school is killing me, I need some sleep. And I will get it no matter the price.” 

Jungkook laughed at your tired words, one of his hands caressing your head in infinite delicacy. As he held to your body, curling so perfectly against his own, he knew that everything would be okay. And maybe he needed a good night of sleep too. 

A few minutes later, as he started to feel the sensation of his consciousness slowly drifting away to the land of dreams, a bittersweet sentiment overtook his chest. There was an instant, even if ephemeral, in which Jungkook believed he would never see Yoongi and Taehyung again — after all, the two had already concluded their mission: Jungkook got the girl and there was nothing else left for them to do. In between two consecutive breaths, he felt both relief and solitude. Silence wasn’t as welcoming once he realized no voice could break it. 

Though, his melodramatic moment was short-lived. Behind him, a known timbre cheered for him:

“I’m so proud, I feel like a soccer mom.”

[not-a-cheese-thief]

Perfect additions! I remember getting the creeps from this so bad, right from when he first called out to her. I get accidentally being in the bike lane (as an absent minded person who has to work very hard to pay attention to road signs in my own country so as to not die, and who was almost hit by a bike while spending like 10 minutes in Amsterdam), everything else I’m 100% on. 

The second he threw away his phone my alarm bells were ringing so hard. Maybe because I’ve felt very very unsafe on occasions when I’ve been without my phone, even in familiar places, but that just screams DANGER to me. Imagine seeing a stranger, a woman, who's clearly not from this country, she’s just ended up in the water, lost her phone, and is potentially injured. You're the only one who seems to be “offering her help” (this is clearly not what he did). And your reaction is to throw your phone away. This woman could be in pain, need medical attention, need to contact family or friends, at the very least she’ll need to call a cab. You could offer your phone to her so she can contact whoever she needs to contact, or you could just keep it on hand so she knows if anything does go wrong, she can make a call. But no, let’s get rid of the only phone you could offer her. Let’s invite her on a boat when you’ve just thrown away the major mode of communication from the boat. 

(yes I know they're on a river boat barge thing in a canal in the middle of a city, but that thing has locks and no landline. he could have padded the walls. she needs a fucking phone)

I have no other option but to assume this man is a serial killer. His actions, throwing away the phone, and basically everything he says, it's giving Dennis Reynolds in It’s Always Sunny, with his implications, and how women can’t say no on a boat where no one is coming to help. 

When he threw the phone away, even though I got that they were going for the stereotypical “foreigner teaches American to live in the moment by doing something no mentally healthy person does and pretending it’s a lifestyle”, I still thought there was no way any woman reacts to that by not running away. The fact that they had her get on the boat, instead of, oh I don’t know, finding someone who didn't throw away their phone and ask them for help, made me sure they were headed somewhere dark. 

Every part of her storyline was just getting creepier and creepier. I remember thinking “wow, they’re really putting Rebecca is such a dangerous position here. Why would she accept this guy? Why wouldn’t she run? Does she have a head injury? Is she concussed?” There’s nothing about Rebecca’s character, given everything she’s been through and how aware she is of what kind of men there are out there, that would have her get on that boat. Let alone have a damn shower. I don't know any woman who would, but definitely not her. 

I was sure he was going to try to assault her.  Everything about his behaviour, everything he said and did, screamed danger. And her being so calm, so seemingly oblivious to every red flag, it felt like the beginnings of a horror movie. But it wasn’t. It was just what men think a meet-cute is. Jesus. 

(But then this season included many moments like this. As people have mentioned a lot, there’s the whole Jane and Beards “romance”. There’s Roy having the players tie their dicks together with string and play like that for a training exercise, which is already insanely messed up, but he came up with the idea to put his players in this position pretty much right after one of said players confessed to him that he had been raped as a child at his father’s urging. WHAT THE FUCK?!

They also had Isaac be casually homophobic, blank and be cruel to his best friend when he found out he was gay, then say 👉👈 “why wouldn’t you tell me?”, Ted tried to stalk his ex, and they kinda gave Jamie’s abusive father an apparent off-screen redemption so that the show could end with a shot of Jamie talking to his father, implying that Jamie had forgiven him, rather than allow Jamie to finally get away from his abuser.). 

I'm sorry but we need to talk about Dutch boat guy..

because I still don't understand how people are fine with this storyline. Not even for romance's sake.

I know the whole thing with him and Rebecca was written (last minute) to have her in a different state of mind. I know she needed some time away from everyone and everything. I get that.

But I can't stop being offended on Rebecca's behalf, because I don't know any woman in her right mind, who would act like that. We're not speaking of a "first date went great, now let's hook up"-kind of situation, because they barely talked before she got on board. He could have offered her a blanket instead and help her get a cab so she can go back to her hotel room and change. Now THAT would have been a nice and cute gesture.

But NOPE the writers wanted her to have a shower on this random guy's boat, who she knows like full five minutes and who is insistent that she drinks his weird tea that's "definitely not drugged", kisses her foot and (for me at least) gives clear stranger danger vibes. And I'm not even taking into account that last line he muttered to himself, which was confusing and creepy af. She couldn't even call for help if she wanted to because she lost her phone!

I don't know how this could happen... I'm SURE they didn't want to convey this but they (inadvertently or not) did.

If they wanted her to spend the night talking with this guy, they could have let her drop her phone into the canal. She wouldn't find her way back, boat guy could be a café guy who offers her a warm drink - they have a connection whatever - she stays at his café and then he walks her back to the hotel after closing. Just.. let it happen in public and make it make sense!

but oh no this means she wouldn't see his daughters room and wouldn't be able to see the connection to Trish's predictions! oh NOW you're worried about predictions and hints - what about the fucking green matchbook

[opossumanonymous]

How did things get so messed up?

Warnings: Talk of murder, a single swear, Inko just sometimes thinks about murder, uh vigilante Izuku

Black Widow Inko! Part 2 featuring Dad Might vs Dad for One! This is honestly just Crack with a plot...

******************************************************

It seemed like yesterday he was in that hospital room meeting his son for the first time. Inko holding their sons tiny body, tears welling in her eyes as she beckoned him closer.

He walked over with no hesitation fully ready to meet Izuku (The name chosen by Inko who got to pick after winning a bet).

Sitting down next to his tired wife he stared down at the infant in wonder. The tiny human they'd waited 9 months for was finally here. Hizashi almost didn't know how to act for a second, so caught up in looking at the tufts of green hair and freckles covering small cheeks.

Reaching out Hizashi gently caressed Izuku's little face with a single finger causing the baby to let out a coo. He grabbed his father's finger in his little fist nearly bringing the 200 year old man to tears.

If asked that's how that day went to Hizashi of course Inko remembers him nearly flooding the hospital room but Hizashi would never admit that.

Tears or not that day Hizashi knew he would protect them with his life so how....how did things get so messed up?!

How did he end up sitting across from his arch nemesis?!

How did Izuku out of everyone in Japan end up with one for all?!

And most importantly how did All Might end up seducing his goddess Inko?!?!

Seriously Hizashi just couldn't understand how she could be with such a lowlife, she must not know who he is.

Never before had Hizashi felt such a deep burning hatred for anyone.

Currently he was sitting on the couch in his and Inko's apartment while she and All Might sat on the adjacent couch. No one spoke until Inko finally cleared her throat.

"Toshi this is my ex hus-"

"Current Husband."

She looked at him with eyes full of fire and a voice full of venom as she spoke. "You forfeited that title the second you thought not calling for 12 years was a good idea."

"...."

She always knew what to say to shut him up especially when she was angry. One of the things that interested him in Inko at first was how unlike most she got incredibly smart when angry.

She also got more sadistic, he could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she calculated all the ways she could kill him.

In this house he was not the devil no, the cute green haired woman sitting across from him was. In fact the murderous aura around her was very concerning, not that he feared for his life with witnesses around. He knew she'd be angry but he'd hoped him getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness would work like last time.

Meanwhile Toshinori was on the verge of having a mental breakdown. At first when he walked into the apartment after a date night he was shocked to find none other than All for One standing in his living room. He quickly pushed Inko behind him ready to defend her against Japan's greatest villain.

While he no longer held one for all that wouldn't stop him from protecting his wife with all he had. How did All for One break out of tartarus anyway?

And just how did he look like this?

All for one looked the way he did before their battle where he smashed his upper face in. All for one, who last they spoke had no eyes, hair and barely a nose now had all of that back and even looked a few years younger.

Each and every person in this room was plotting how to kill someone. Thankfully this day they'd all walk away unscathed.

Mainly because they all had a secret to hide from eachother.

Inko didn't want Toshinori to know about her past, Toshinori didn't want Inko to know who her ex was, and Hizashi didn't want to anger his wife further by revealing any of her secrets. (He may have been criminally insane but he wasn't stupid)

After all one does not rat out their ex-assassin wife's past to her new husband who is also the ex-symbol of peace. Lest they both team up, beat your ass and throw you back in prison or just straight up murder you.

"Anyway Toshi this is my ex husband Hizashi, Izukus father, he left about 12 years ago with no contact or information."

"Oh come now darling those divorce papers weren't serious. I understand you're mad but I'm back and I promise nothing will keep me away this time."

The utter nerve of this guy he really wants to die today! He's lucky he stopped wearing ties years ago or else Inko would've been choked him to death!

"Tea. I'm going to go make some tea I'll be back soon." She said with a strained smile resisting the urge to rip out Hizashi's teeth.

After she left to the kitchen the atmosphere got even darker the two mortal enemies now left alone.

"So it wasn't enough that you destroyed my face and took my son as your successor, you just had to go and seduce my wife too!"

"Your wife! Did you not just hear her she divorced you?!"

"Yeah all because of you and your meddling if you hadn't destroyed my face putting me in comatose I would've been there for her and Izuku!"

All Might paused for a second realization hitting him like cold bucket of water. Before he got his composer back not wanting the enemy to get the upper hand.

"If you hadn't have been quirk smuggling and stealing classified documents I wouldn't have had to!"

"Oh so it's all entirely my fault?!" Hizashi scoffed "I bet she doesn't even know what you did to me does she?"

Toshinori stayed silent it was true she may have known who he was but she didn't know about his hand in her ex husband's absence.

He had no idea how lucky he was she didn't know or there would be two dead men walking instead of one.

"I take your silence as a yes then?" Hizashi was a little smug now.

"Not like you've told her who you really are." Hizashi frowned at this causing Toshinori to smile "I see I'm right as well."

Well he was only half right he never out right told Inko she figured it out on her own. But All Might didn't need to know that, after all no use making Inko even more upset then she already was.

Meanwhile in the kitchen Inko was trying to figure out how to shoot her ex from the kitchen without Toshinori noticing.

While she knew it was impossible without blowing her secret a woman could dream.

As the tea finally came to a boil she noted the distinct sound of her sons bedroom window opening and closing. Knowing her son was back from his nightly vigilantism only done on weekend nights per their agreement. She briefly considered pouring rat poison in Hizashi's serving but decided against it.

Not that the good for nothing scumbag didn't deserve it. But just scaring him would do for now unless Izuku didn't want him in his life. After all he was Izuku's father and Izuku deserved to choose whether he wanted him in his life or not.

Bringing back a tray with the tea she sat the cups down with an eerie look on her face. "Here you go Hizashi I made yours just how you like it!~" She said sweetly.

Yeah Hizashi isn't drinking that, no way she definitely must have done something to it. He hasn't survived the past 200 years to die like that, thankfully his lovely queen isn't good at holding her emotions in.

"Thankyou darling you're too kind." He said taking a cup but not drinking from it.

Toshinori on the other hand called her buff he knew she wouldn't do anything. As he drunk his own cup he remarked on how good it was, well atleast he didn't have to worry about no real or imaginary poison.

Toshinori really didn't know what to do he was having a mental crisis. Should he tell Inko and young Midoriya the truth about All for one or not say anything? The boy would be devastated and would he really want to fight his own father when the time came? He would never forgive himself if it caused Izuku mental pain.

But if he turned Hizashi in to the hero commission they wouldn't know it was him. But he'd still have to deal with them being distraught and possibly hating him for not telling them sooner. Plus everything might become public and there's no telling how many enemies All for one has made that would be out for blood.

This was bad, both his morals and heart clashed at the thought of hurting Izuku and Inko they both quickly became the family he never got to have.

Izuku even started calling him dad for crying out loud! What would he call him if he found out his idol and mentor was the one who separated him from his biological father?!

"We need to settle this once and for all." Inko finally said still annoyed and just wanting Hizashi out.

"Yes you're right we should Inko darling. I won't make this hard, I promise I only want to see my son. Perhaps he can sleepover at my place on the weekends?"

Toshinori paled at that, if he got young Midoriya alone there's no telling what that monster would do to the boy. He could kidnap him, take one for all, and lock him away forever. Toshinori couldn't let that happen deciding he'd rather tell both Inko and Izuku who 'Hizashi' really was.

"Yeah no I don't think so you can have supervised visits and you can take him somewhere if I'm available to go with."

Yeah Inko wasn't buying what her ex was selling she knew he'd have Izuku quirkless and vaulted if she left them alone.

Not to mention that would force her to try rescuing him leading to her being vaulted as well.

But together they could defeat him after all he couldn't fight them both at once.

Hizashi was about to open his mouth when all of a sudden a voice called from the hall.

"Dad?"

"Yes son?" Both men said in unison before looking at eachother with a glare.

Izuku just stood there frozen in shock as his step dad and biological father glared at eachother. He couldn't believe his eyes, even though he heard his father's voice he just thought his mom finally got him on the phone. But this is unreal he never thought in his wildest dreams his father would be in front of him again.

He gripped his plan shirt that had "shirt" written on it in big white letters. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest at any moment, a million questions going through his mind.

He was so deep in thought he didn't hear his mom get up from the couch and approach him till he felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Sweetie are you okay?" His mom asked him worried.

The two men stopped glaring at eachother now focused on Izuku concerned for him.

Tears came to the greenettes eyes as his voice shook with joy. "Dad!"

Hizashi was then tackled by the boy, slight bits of green lighting appearing on him showing his small use of one for all. Despite Izukus small stature compared to his father's hulking one, Hizashi nearly doubled over feeling like he was punched.

His son was a strong boy, he lamented the years lost since his little green bean was no longer little.

Wrapping his arms around his son Japan's evilest villain patted Izukus head. Causing the ex-symbol of peace to go into a coughing fit, a waterfall of blood pouring from his mouth.

"Dad are you okay?!"

Pushing away from Hizashi Izuku went to check on Toshinori as Inko offered up a handkerchief. Taking it in gratitude Toshinori thanked his wife before reassuring Izuku he was okay. "Thankyou son I'm alright no need to worry." Giving his signature grin he ignored his enemies death glare.

All for One the demon emperor would never admit he's jealous of anyone especially his arch-nemesis. But seeing his son coddle that blonde theif made his blood boil.

"Well this will be a new experience I never thought you'd call someone else dad..." Hizashi said with a strained smile his mouth lighting up with fire for a second.

He could always burn the blonde homewreaker with his fire breath good thing that was the quirk he with.

"Oh I guess it will get really confusing calling you both dad. But what other alternative names for you both? Or I could just call one dad and the other something else...maybe papa could work?" Izuku muttered suddenly, scratching the back of his head.

Both men looked at eachother realizing this could be the deciding factor. They knew that whoever got papa would win, after all it was the cuter of the two choices.

"Alright it's decided then!" Izuku claped his hands together a wide grin growing on his face. Both men sitting in anticipation at the boys verdict. The two looking like they were on a high stakes game show as sweat trickled down their foreheads.

"I'll call you dad" Izuku pointed at Hizashi "and I'll call you papa!" He then pointed to Toshinori.

Toshinori felt like he could do a cheer, his crops were watered, his stomach was back, his scares gone, everything in the universe was right.

That was until he looked over at All for One who he was sure would definitely kill him now if he wasn't going to before. His aura now darker than before as Toshinori's own aura glowed bright with happiness knowing he was the superior father figure in Izukus life.

Meanwhile Izuku ever oblivious to his father's fued just gave his mom his best smile feeling happier to have them in his life. After all they were his family and he wouldn't change that for nothing in the world.

******************************************************

Sometime later

Yoichi: Leave brother we will not leave this host!

AFO: Oh I don't want your quirk little brother, no not anymore.

Yoichi: Then why are you here what else could you possibly want?!

AFO: WHAT I WANT IS FOR YOU TO MAKE YOUR GOLDEN BOY LEAVE MY WIFE AND SON ALONE! HE'S RUINING EVERYTHING!

Yoichi: I see so that's what this is about...yeah no this is what you get. Consider this karma goodbye brother.

AFO: OH NO DON'T YOU DARE HANG UP ON ME TELL ALL MI-

Yoichi: *disconnects AFO from Izukus conscious*

AFO: *Sitting in Izukus room while his son sleeps* I can't believe it he hung up on me.

******************************************************

AFO: I'll have you know I did alot of good things I'm not a good for nothing scumbag!

Inko: Oh really name one good deed you've done since we got married.

AFO:............Well umm..... Oh! I had Izuku our son!

Inko: Hehe yeah no I had Izuku you just stood there and cried in the corner for 11 hours.

AFO: WELL YOU TRY BEING SUPPORTIVE WHEN YOUR WIFE CALLS YOU A- Wait no actually I adopted a stray child off the streets! That definitely counts as one good deed!

Inko: WHAT!?

AFO: *realizing how bad he messed up* You what happened was....

[ikevamp-shrine]

Thank you @yanderepuck​ for giving me the courage to post this😊❤

Please ignore the crappy drawing of her, but that's kinda what she appears like in my mind. I will be writing with her character in future posts.

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Height: 5’4

Birthday: September 7th

Occupation: Former Queen of England

Appearance: 

Long, curly (and extremely thick) strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, red lips, and intense icy blue eyes. Her stance is strong, regale, and respectable. Her skin is littered with smallpox scars (only a few, very unnoticeable ones residing on her face, neck, and hands). Her expression is usually blank and unreadable. Her movements are controlled and polite. Her brows thick and stomach soft. Legs long and fingers thin and graceful. There are patches of freckles on her shoulders that mix with her scars causing a unique blend of color. Thick thighs and pale, maintained feet. Smaller breasts.

Childhood:

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

She was taught a rigorous education normally only given to male heirs and was applauded for her perseverance and memory. She became fluent in French and Italian which profited when conducting diplomacy years later. Her involvement with the Reformation shaped the course of the nation, but she held no interest in religion.

With her father’s death, her step mother married the lord high admiral, Thomas, which resulted in his decapitation due to his intent to rape and impregnate Elizabeth forcing her to marry him in order for him to rule the kingdom. He was said to be overly flirtatious and acting inappropriately familiar with the young girl when around her (which one of the reasons she doesn’t like Arthur, his flirtatious nature reminds her of her past).

She was raised around sexism and taught that women were likely to act on impulsion and passion making them unfit to rule. Men were taught the arts of war and told they are the ones who dominate women while women were urged to keep their head down, mouth shut, and attend their needlework. She had remained unmarried, her want to remain single overshadowing any thoughts of seeking out relations with a man. She was rumored to have burst out in tears when Queen Mary, her older sister, had proposed to marry Elizabeth to a duke. This became a national concern when Elizabeth became queen and refused to take a husband, going against the belief that a woman’s place was a wife. It also raised worries that she would die childless, ending her bloodline, and giving Elizabeth’s title to Mary, Queen of Scots, a catholic posing a threat to the Protestants of England.

Dislikes: 

her privacy being intruded on, loud talking, 3am, those who play weak and stupid or whine to get what they want, people who are lazy but still expect to reach their goals, women who chase men and believe they need a man to be successful in life, messy rooms, fake personalities and cheaters (in both games and relationships)

Likes: 

walks in the garden at midnight, the sound of the birds singing their life’s song as the warmth of the day’s first rays of sun trace her skin, reading, learning new things, burning candles, smiling faces, happy children, the smell of freshly baked bread, warm blankets, animals, the laughter of children, hunting, dancing, and horseback (bareback more often than naught)

Personality: 

She appears cold at first because of her bluntness and blank (almost annoyed) expression. Unreasonably serious with a strong sense of duty, responsibility, and morals. She is a firm believer in working harder than everyone else to achieve greatness. A highly intelligent woman that believe women are equal to their male counterpart. Extremely stubborn in a non-disrespectful way. She is adaptable, disciplined, dignified, and confident with a wit and tongue as sharp as, if not sharper, than any of the residents. She is blunt, doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and is always honest. Focused, logical, and exceedingly loyal to those she decides to put her trust in. She is protective and straightforward but rather quiet. She tends to keep to herself. She is paranoid and distrustful when meeting new people but will not show it. She tries to work on it, but she can be very vengeful when it comes to people betraying her or hurting those she loves.

Preferred company: 

Theo, Leonardo, Isaac, Jean, Vincent

Relationships (platonic, romantic, etc.):  

Jean- platonic with a chance of something more

Has a deep understanding with Jean. They don’t really talk about each other to each other; their conversations mainly consist of stiff, dead toned jokes that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were jokes until specified. She is one of the few people that has actually seen a sober Jean smile. He is extremely protective of her and will stand behind her just so he has the peace of mind that her back is guarded. If she asked, he would show her what is under his eye patch, no matter what lingering emotions he has on the ‘ugliness under the fabric’. His blade is always ready, his mind perfectly clear, when it comes to the safety and well being of the woman he had found himself connecting to in ways no one had before. Often, they go horse back riding together, Napoleon will sometimes accompany but its only when her and the former solider are alone does she throw her head back, her laughs unrestrained while the wind rips through her hair and clothing. Jean will race her and chuckle at how free she looks, but of course she doesn’t hear. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Napoleon  

Mozart- platonic

Sometimes Mozart look for her and demand Elizabeth to listen to his new piece until she raises an eyebrow, daring him not to correct his wording. He’ll swallow thickly and glance off to the side, a scoff on his lips as he apologizes. She’ll nod and follow him to music room. Mozart will stare at her impatiently until she gives her honest (and extremely blunt) opinion. He values her words and while alone the pianist will replay the slight quirk of her lips as she praised his efforts. He has a small obsession with her and it drives him insane

Vincent- brotherly platonic and Theo- they horny for each other but don’t want to cross that line of friendship so they dance around their feelings while making out every once in a while

Has a soft spot for Theo and Vincent because their relationship makes her think of her brother. She only sees Vincent as a brother and will only allow him to do her makeup when he asks to, but with Theo its completely different. She sees Theo as a partner, a man she shares many values and goals with. She respects him and their shared opinions on responsibility and productivity. They understand each other intuitively and can conversate with just fleeting touches and quick glances of their eyes. There is a thick sexual tension that builds between them overtime resulting in hurried, frantic, sloppy kisses in hallways where the couple battle for dominance by pushing each other against walls and gripping roughly at the other’s clothing

Napoleon- just housemates (not friends or lovers)

She can and usually feels uncomfortable when around Napoleon. She has chalked it down to the fact they are both the leader ‘alpha’ types that ruled enemy lands. Truly, they just don’t have much in common and find it hard to build a meaningful relationship. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Jean

Arthur- just housemates

Can sometimes get too snippy with Arthur. While she does find enjoyment in his jokes at times, she despises the sexual aspects of the author. Finds his skirt chasing habits understandable but disgusting. Admires his intelligence but can’t stand how he is able to tell you where have been just by the dust on your hand (she likes her privacy). Will play chess and pool with him even though she knows she will lose just because she enjoys playing. Will sometimes have deep conversations with Arthur in front of the fire place, both nursing a glass of alcohol, their eyes never leaving the fire as to not break the imaginary protective barrier around the two that eye contact will shatter. Smirks at his quirks and jokes sometimes and it literally makes Arthur’s heart leap because ‘damn a queen just found amusement in my joke.’ He internally freaked out the first time he met her mainly because the mansion now had two previous rulers instead of one and the newest one scared the living daylights out of him.

Comte- there is nothing between them

Doesn’t trust Comte as far as she can throw him. She can see the darkness in his heart and his past behind his eyes. She can see the death he’s caused- the pain, and while she knows that she, herself, has caused the death of many, she still has a deeply rooted gut feeling telling her to stay away from the pureblood. He wants her trust but soon realizes her opinion on him is similar to Jean’s. She will not take any gifts other than what is necessary from him (ex. Dresses for parties)

Dazai- just housemates

Dazai tries avoiding her. He feels suffocated when around and the victim of her stare. He feels as if her eyes and actions pick him apart and leave his in his barest, rawest form, and it scares him to no end. She does find his window habit hilarious though and will give him a hand up when he falls

Shakespeare- they don’t get involved with each other

She can tell Shakespeare’s mind is being manipulated, by what is the question she has yet to reveal though. She can tell he is dangerous. One who’s actions are watched and controlled by another always are. His unpredictable nature and mysterious, secret filled smile is what causes her to feel uneasy around him. She doesn’t ignore him, but she doesn’t want to be involved with the playwright and his actions so she tends to just quietly leave the room when he enters. He is polite to her and compliments her when they do talk but his fancy wording sometimes annoys Elizabeth, especially when she just wants to get away from him. She believes he is a good man at heart lead astray by forces more powerful than him, but still finds his company rather unnecessary. 

Sebastian- they respect one another, are not friends but have decent conversations

Has an interesting relationship with Sebastian. She wouldn’t call him a friend, she has very few of those so it is understandable, but she does respect him for his work ethic just as he respects her for her accomplishments and standing in history. She let him interview him once and nearly laughed out loud from how excited he got. They always have a cup of coffee or tea in the morning together, Elizabeth not quite woken up yet so they sip in comforting silence. Sebastian usually asks how she slept and she responds by telling him about her dreams if she had one. She’ll end up helping him cook breakfast.

Leonardo- friends with a chance of something more

Elizabeth appreciates Leonardo’s straightforwardness and honesty, so they have a decent trusting relationship, but his matureness makes her feel like a little girl again and it bothers her. Her thoughts tend to be: she was a queen; she ruled a country with a strength that rivaled even the greatest men, she should not look at this chain-smoking man with admiration in her eyes like a giddy school girl, flustered over a boy telling her she is cute, while around the Italian. The start of their relationship was rocky, due to Elizabeth’s personal feelings on the man- Leonardo could have cared less, but soon enough they started to appreciate each other’s qualities. Leonardo is mainly the only one she allows to touch her hair. They often speak Italian together on the balcony as Leonardo smoke a cigarillo and Elizabeth reads.

Isaac- they have the chance of being more than friends but their relationship is mainly just comforting one another through their presence and (when needed) touch- they also trust each other whole heartedly

Adores Isaac and will purposely sought him out just so she can listen to his calming ramblings while he tinkers away, a book in her hand and two cooling cups of coffee on the surface closest to the pair. He gets so red around her; at times he turns snow white from the intensity in her gaze and how her eyes never stray from her company. They share an endless loyalty to each other. Neither knows when the bond form, it just happened on its own (and very suddenly). Isaac has lost control and bit her but instead of reacting in anger she accepted it and pulled him closer, shuddering with each frenzied suck against her neck, her nails gently scratching the scalp of a whimpering Isaac. When Isaac finally came to his senses, he tried pulling away, his voice thick with unshed tears as his panicked words rang through the air until Elizabeth grabbed him and held him close, shushing Isaac as he trembled with regret and guilt in her arms. They had held each other for hours until they feel asleep in each other embraces. Isaac will link pinkies with Elizabeth when he is being picked on without realizing it for support and something to ground him so his thoughts don’t run too wild. Elizabeth will just glare and clear her throat and Arthur will shut his mouth while looking at the former queen as if he was a kicked puppy. She has a habit of fixing his clothing or hair after he nervously pulls, picks, or twists at it- Isaac doesn’t even notice it after a while. His face does burn intensely though when she places a hand on his overactive, bouncing knee when he is anxious.

Fun facts:

Due to her makeup being poisoned by her undetermined enemy, which resulted in her death, she refuses to wear any cosmetics other than what Vincent personally makes (learned how to from Leonardo) and puts on her skin himself when going to events if he asks to.

She tends to wear clothing that covers all skin other than her neck and face when leaving the mansion due to children being scared by her smallpox scars.

She usually never strays from wine unless her emotions become a little too overwhelming for her to just push the feelings down, only then will she drink something stronger.

Elizabeth is a quiet, peaceful drunk that tends to curl up on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor, her hair loose and flowing over the decorative pillow she’ll grab and hug tightly to her chest.

She died a virgin and has remained one ever since her resurrection.

The former queen is hesitant to allow others to touch her hair from her past concerning the loss of said strands (a result of surviving smallpox), but if she trusts someone enough and knows they’ll be gentle she’ll let them style the curls, even if she is tense the entire time.

Prefers to braid her hair herself and wrap in into a bun due to the protective nature of the style.

Loves sleeping in but is often unable to due to insomnia.

She is highly particular when it comes to cleaning and organization. She has told Sebastian not to worry about cleaning her things or doing her laundry, instead she does it herself with up most focus and determination.

When she does open up or is around the boys long enough, they realize her heart is truly kind and nurturing instead of what she appears when first met (a cold-hearted woman with a resolve like steel). This is especially apparent when around animals.

She is very sarcastic and doesn’t mean any harm but usually her joking words sound hateful due to her dead tone and blank face.

Her voice is deeper and soothing, most times holding no emotion which creeps Dazai and Arthur out

Lives by “no pain no gain”

Doesn’t waste her breath on hate- if she doesn’t like someone or feels as if she can’t trust them then they just don’t exist to her. She won’t hesitate to cut someone off without warning.

Has a bad habit of bottling her emotions which causes her to explode when pushed over the edge resulting in one of the very rare moments where her anger creates an electric static in the room that demands the attention of anyone present. She doesn’t shout or scream but her words are sharper than a blade, her eyes burn with a fiery rage while she takes control of the room, overwhelming anyone (even Napoleon) and making them feel as if they are an ant beneath her boot.

Her eyes freak many people out- they feel as if the ice like orbs are staring straight into their soul, picking apart their insides, leaving nothing but shredded organs and an empty husk of what used to be a strong mind.

Can always tell when someone is lying. It’s a gut feeling, and her gut is always right.

She still wears her coronation ring on her wedding finger as a sign of her symbolic marriage to her people and country

[mangodestroyer]

I'm so sorry to hear that about your friend! These relationships can be so damaging. And they're surprisingly common, I've come to find. I've been looking at other people's stories on forums and whatnot, and it's jarring to see how awful some people can be.

Sometimes, I feel like I lucked out a little with my ex, when it comes to toxic relationships anyway. Some people's exes are so much worse, and I don't think I would have survived such abuse if my relationship affected me like it has. I may have had intimacy withheld, which really sucks and destroys your confidence when you partner makes it seem like they want those things, but not with you. But some people have the opposite problem, which is so much worse imo. Some people are experiencing SA on the regular and it's depressing af to read about it. Some people are being put in insanely dangerous situations for the sake of torment or being physically abused. It's like some people just exist to cause suffering.

Some people also can't catch a break after they leave the relationship. So far, my ex hasn't even tried to contact me since breaking up with her eight months ago. Some people's abusive exes try to trick them into dating them again, or stalk them, or smear them and isolate their friends and family from them. Apparently, this is called hoovering and it sounds like a fucking nightmare in some cases. Sometimes, it's just some annoying word salad apologies and, "Hey, can we get back together?" Sometimes, it's legal battles to consume so much time and money. Sometimes, it's straight up stalking. And that stalking can lead to someone getting seriously hurt. I seriously hope people are right and my ex does not even care enough about me anymore to do that. Probably never cared that much about me in the first place, as that is what she accused everyone, literally EVERYONE of doing to her. Her friends? Her previous exes? Her family? Me? We all never cared about her, just used her, etc. And everyone just leaves her. Yes, she has been very traumatized growing up. After meeting her family and knowing what dysfunction they had going on, my guess is that they were extremely cold to her and so she learned that people are cold and uncaring. And so thinks everyone is like that and chooses to behave that way herself. Even though I hate her now, I can't help but feel sad thinking about that.

I've been practicing autonomy, via a trauma therapist's suggestions. I've been watching a psychologist who studies toxic relationships and her advice has been a great help! She not only helped me sort out my current relationship, but also some "ancient wounds", as she calls them (childhood trauma that may make someone susceptible). My family was verbally abusive. I had to put up with a hell brother and not get listened to about it. My mom used to be very mean with me (but she isn't anymore). I got bullied a lot in school. I am also neurodivergent. I have social communication disorder and might also be autistic. So I was taught that my neurodiversity is rude and unpleasant and deserving of mockery and needed to go away. It's well known at this point that behavioral therapies from my day, and days previous, teach children to have weak boundaries and put other people's needs before their own. Probably doesn't help that people with social difficulties were once thought to have no empathy, and the myth still persists. Most of us do, in fact, have empathy. Unless we have some other condition that makes us not have empathy. What we actually lack is cognitive empathy. We struggle to read others, and sometimes, we may not fully understand if something we do is hurtful, nor can we always predict that such will be the outcome. But we feel bad when we are made aware that we did cause harm. Your childhood can really tell a lot about your current behavioral patterns. I realize now that I tend to doubt myself, assume I'm far worse than I actually am, and maybe was a little too quick to give my emotional energy to people who claimed to be misunderstood and lonely, when, as it turns out, some people cause their own problems in life. Which always seemed cold to me when people said that. But... it's true.

Like I've said, I've been studying the signs quite a bit. What patterns to look out for. Ofc, no one is perfect. People act out sometimes. They do things that are hurtful without meaning to. You just need to get a feel for what genuine remorse is, as well as intent. My ex was cold and didn't seem all that bothered if I was upset with something. She straight up told me to knock it off when I said part of my body felt numb while we were in the crowded streets of Boston and that I needed to sit down somewhere with less people (I felt like I was going to start crying, I later found out that these were symptoms of a panic attack). She VERY reluctantly did so but then later acted like the trip was a disaster because of it. And before that she was telling me to stop saying my left side feels tingly because she asked if I was allergic to the food we ate and I'd said no. I feel like... literally anyone else in my life (except my brother) would have been very concerned. Jfc, my parents would have been getting me medical attention if they heard I was going numb! Even if I wasn't allergic. My childhood friend likely would have realized it was anxiety and gotten me out of that situation. But for ex? Ig it was me making shit up.

And I felt guilty for letting myself get so anxious like that. My ex still wanted to visit crowded places afterwards and I tried and tried and tried to find a compromise for that. Looking back, it almost feels like she wanted to do things she knew I wouldn't enjoy.

Another one is if you get into an argument with someone and they just seem so obsessed with "winning." Good lord, both my ex roommate and my brother are obsessed with causing fights. And they feel so satisfied when they say things to put you down/make you feel stupid/get you riled up. They both have that "smirk." My brother loved seeing my cry. My roommate really wanted to believe I was suicidal and sometimes laughed when things weren't going well for me (while pretending to be such a sweet person in front of others). Told me I'd be doing myself and others a favor if I died, but always in roundabout ways. I will say, at least my ex wasn't sadistic. My roommate and brother are definitely sadists, and abuser's with sadistic tendencies are just pure evil. They were easier for me to figure out, but it was hell dealing with them. Normal, healthy individuals argue when they're dissatisfied, but want to find a solution/closure and communicate their feelings. They don't want to see someone else suffer for their own entertainment. I've been getting better at detecting ill faith arguments and discussions. Learning not to personalize it and grey rocking are the best tips for this kind of behavior. For now, it seems like I've found a way to shut my brother down. The way he acts around me now feels so different. All of a sudden, he acts a lot more respectful and whatnot. Probably figured out that I finally learned his game and don't tolerate his shit. Probably also helps that I've sharpened my social skills quite a bit and gained "status." He's not a threat to me anymore and I so wish I learned the power of the grey rock sooner.

Again, I'm sorry for going on and on about it. Like I said, figuring this shit out has been life changing. I'm pretty much hyperfixated on it at this point (for once, a hyperfixation that is actually very useful). It's changing the way people interact with me and everything. I'm having a lot more positive interactions. People are starting to invite me places. People actually want to talk to me now. I'm less likely to get shit from people overall (still happens tho). I notice a lot more people smiling at me. Maybe it's because on top of learning toxic behaviors, I looked inwards and changed some of my own bad/detrimental behavioral patterns. Oh, yes. I have my bad days. But I still changed. I'm just not used to all of this. It feels like I entered a different life or something.

My girlfriend made me watch Our Flag Means Death so now I’m making her watch Good Omens

tag yourself who is the good omens gf and who is the our flag means death gf

[vanillann]

i don’t (james potter x reader)

bare with me i’m trying something new...

congratulations @weasleysflowr for 300!! i’m so excited to be apart of this writing challenge!!

warning: a few swear words and bad angst

word count: 1.4k

I wasn’t a bad person, I was just a good person who did bad things. 

I was a good person, I made a gorgeous cake for my best friend wedding, I just left a letter in it confessing my undying love for her finance.

So now I was running the halls of the large venue the wedding was taking place in, looking for the kitchen that held the cake in it, looking for the small box with the figurines of James Potter and Lily Evans. I’d take the letter back and everything would be fine-

“(Y/N)!”

I froze, closing my eyes and taking in a quick breath before turning and smiling at another close friend I would be disappointing soon if I didn’t hurry.

“Sirius, how is James doing?”

Sirius skipped to stand before me, a goofy smile played across his lips. “He’s freaking out about his hair as we speak,” Sirius shrugged, his hand going to his own locks.

“Nothing new.”

I smiled to myself, looking down at my feet with a sad little smile. Images of James breaking brush’s and spending most of his money on hair products because his messy hair couldn’t be tamed.

“Obviously, some things never change,” Sirius hit my shoulder, spotting my eyes with his amazing abilities to psychoanalyze me.

“And you?”

“Me? I’m great,” my voice jumped a minimum of three octaves, catching Sirius's attention easily.

“Great?”

“Fabulous, spectacular even.”

I need to learn how to lie.

Sirius looked me up and down, his eyebrows raised as he slowly circled me like a shark. My heart rate was jumping up, my sweaty hands held close to my chest now.

“You did something, spill.”

Nope, don’t spill.

“I don’t know what you mean Black,” holding my head high, I was careful to avoid eye contact with him.

“Did you pee in the cake?”

A giant boisterous laugh flew past my lips, my hand flying to cover my mouth as little giggles came in title waves.

Sirius smirked, chuckling lightly to himself while clapping me on the shoulder. “Now tell me what’s up,” his words were soft, scared to break the unspoken secret we’ve held for years.

I let my shoulders fall, imagining the small letter stuck between the figure of Lily and James made from melted chocolate.

“Let’s walk, James wanted to look at the sculpture you made of them.”

I felt my nerves go rapid, jumping in action and I kept easy pace with Sirius.

“He can’t see them yet,” my words were rushed, slurred like I had too much Firewhiskey.

“Why?” 

I looked to Sirius, my eyes wide as we both subconsciously picked up our pace to the kitchen.

“I wrote a letter to James, confessing everything. It’s in the box with the figurines,” I announced softly, scare someone would hear and tell Lily or worse, James.

“You did what?”

Sirius and I were practically running to the kitchen now, panic in both our eyes as we turned a corner to the large open door of the kitchen.

“It was stupid, I was sad and going insane last night,” I knew it wasn’t an excuse to ruin a wedding, but it was the truth and Sirius Black only ever accepts the truth.

“If you knew it would get to you why’d you make the cake?”

He was right, it was stupid to get that involved but Lily wanted my famous Pumpkin Juice cake and I could say no to those ivy green eyes.

“I’m stupid?”

“Yes, that you are,” he didn’t seem disappointed, but he wasn’t pleased. 

We both barged into the kitchen, which was practically empty but for one body who stood before the cake, a body that should be in the dressing room. James stood still with his back to us, slowly spinning to face us with a yellow-tinted piece of parchment held between his fingers.

His bottom lip was held between his teeth, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he slowly looked up to me, ignoring Sirius's presents.

“Please don’t marry her? What the hell does that mean?”

It was weird seeing James as a wave of silent anger, he was also loud and knowing with his anger but this time he stood in one spot and spoke in a whisper.

“I’ll go,” Sirius didn’t want a second, slipping out the door we both came running through seconds ago.

“James-“

“You don’t speak,” he held his empty finger up, looking back down to the note held in his grip.

“It’s selfish, hell yeah it’s selfish (Y/N),” his voice didn’t rise, but the look in his hazel eyes could tell a thousand tale of anger.

“I didn’t mean for you to see it.” 

The weak wobble in my voice felt off like I was in an alternate universe. “Then why is it at my wedding,” he took a single step, suddenly backing up to stand where he stood seconds ago.

“Because I messed up.”

It was true, I messed up big time. I messed up the flower that Lily wanted on the cake, I messed up a few words in the letter, but I messed up a person who meant everything to me.

James said nothing, reading the letter in his hands again. I finally let myself take him in. The messy hair, the suit he took months to pick out, the baby blue tie that hung from his neck even if he wanted red.

He was standing like a God, anger, and all.

“James, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have put that letter there.”

He didn’t yell or scream, simply letting the letter slip from his fingers to the floor of the bright kitchen.

“Why now?”

Good question, why now? Why don’t when we sat at the Black Lake skipping pebbles or in the Great Hall having a food fight. Why did I have to confess at his wedding, while my best friend stood rooms away in a white ball gown.

“I- think because now was the only time you’d be honest.”

Shut up (Y/N), close your trap.

“What in Merlin’s name does that mean?”

“If I told you at Hogwarts you’d lie, tell me you loved me back and we’d be stuck in a loveless relationship. You wouldn’t want to hurt me because I’m (Y/N) (L/N), you’d lie,” I looked to my shoes that ran over the tiles of the kitchen.

“I’d never lie to you.”

“You just did,” a single tear ran down my cheek, pain struck my chest like a lightning bolt struck a tree. 

James didn’t dare move, his eyes burned into my head as I lost eye contact.

“Does Lily know?”

I shook my head, guilt flowing with my blood cells as I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath.

“She can’t know, she would feel bad like it’s her fault.”

Lily would do everything in her power to make sure James and I married today. She does anything for my happiness, but I couldn’t take him from her even if I wanted to.

“I know,” his words were shaky this time, almost like he didn’t want to tell me that lie. That stupid lie that would come soon, so that meant I was going to ramble as long as I could to prevent it.

“I dreamed you loved me back last night, we’re happy and had a little boy. His name was Harry, I know you hate that name but I convinced you-”

“(Y/N)!”

I looked up, red-rimmed eyes as I looked to James who picked up the letter. He took two steps to me, our shoulder side by side as he looked to the heavy doors. He lightly grabbed my wrist pulling my hand out for the letter to be placed gently in the center.

“I don’t,” his words were harsh, tire marks left on my heart forever from just the tone of his voice.

He took himself from the kitchen, his head held high as he went to find his friends that would clean up his hair and straighten his tie.

I kept myself in the kitchen, my head hung low as I stood alone to clean my tears and fix myself for the wedding.

I don’t.

The two words echoed from my mouth, flipping the letter to see a little tear droplet that made the ink run.

I do and he doesn’t, a classic sad ending to a story about love I suppose.



another congratulations to ayli for 300!! i will be copying this writing challenge ;)

general harry potter tag list:

@siriusmaraudeers @haphazardhufflepuff @marauder-exe

[simplyclockwork]

I am a huge fan of your writing. I would love a post season 4 fic where we see John and Rosie move back to 221b. Sherlock has an accident and breaks an arm and a leg. As he is wondering how he will take care of himself John turns up to collect him from hospital like its the most natural thing in World that he will take care of Sherlock. The focus is John wanting a chance to redeem himself. Happy Johnlock ending please. I’m over 18. Smut optional!

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Hi, anon! Thanks for your patience with me filling the prompt. Hopefully, you like what I’ve written :) Please feel free to send a prompt anytime!

You can also read your prompt on Ao3 here. The rest of the fill is below the page break.

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It’s only been a couple of weeks since John moved back to Baker Street, with his few belongings and infant-daughter in tow. Sherlock is still adjusting, and so is John, while Rosie bounces about the place like a tennis ball. She provides a perfect distraction, a much-needed buffer between John and Sherlock, who are still trying to find their way back to something considered normalcy.

Whatever their new normalcy is, Sherlock doesn’t know. He just hopes they find it soon because the unresolved tension hovering over 221B is starting to drive him mad.

Things are different. Better than they were before when John… well, that was before, and this is now. Sherlock tries not to dwell on their brief tilt into insanity. Mary, the aquarium, Culverton Smith, Eurus and Sherrinford. Each has taken a toll on Sherlock in one way or another. Things are different. John works at the clinic more often than he joins Sherlock on cases. He has a daughter to provide for, and his evening spent in a well with chains around his ankles has made him somewhat skittish.

Sherlock can’t blame him, not when he feels a little skittish himself—but he’s the world’s only consulting detective. It’s him, or it’s no one, and he’s got a bit of life left in him yet. Casework feels strange without John at his side, but John hasn’t been there in any consistent capacity since Sherlock returned from the dead, so he adjusts.

Sherlock’s had more madness than most, more than enough for several lifetimes. These days, Sherlock tires more easily. Moves a little slower, reacts a little later. Retirement is a word he starts to hear more often, echoing in his Mind Palace and staring back at him from the bathroom mirror when he pokes at the new wrinkles in his face and as he tugs at the silvered hairs appearing at his temples with increasing frequency.

It is pure irony that on the day Sherlock decides to slow down on the more challenging cases, to focus on fours and sixes and the life he hopes to build with John and Rosie, he has an accident.

The case is a straightforward kidnapping that Sherlock solves in minutes. The kidnapee, a young woman in her 30s, named Alice Forbes, is taken from her London flat by an ex-boyfriend. Sherlock leads Lestrade and his team to an old building with a decommissioned lift. Narrow and festooned with disturbed cobwebs, the shaft is dark and accessible with a rusted but sturdy-looking ladder.

In hindsight, Sherlock should have known it was too easy. Should have waited, should have let Lestrade’s men go before him. But, true to his impatient nature, he is the first to rush down the ladder.

And he’s the first to fall when one of the rungs, eaten through by rust and time, gives way beneath his hand, sending him to the bottom of the lift shaft. The fall isn’t far enough to kill him, but it is far enough to break bone, and Sherlock winces at the double crack he hears before agony and fire spill through his left arm and right leg. A cross-body break, of all things, arm trapped beneath him and leg striking a cable at the wrong angle.

“Sherlock?” Lestrade’s voice reaches him from above, invisible in the dark, and Sherlock clenches his teeth to resist the urge to scream.

Definitely multiple breaks, he can tell. Nothing hurts like a break, and right now, Sherlock is ablaze.

“Don’t climb down,” he manages to reply, voice wavering and strained with pain. “One of the rungs broke. Could be others.”

“Fuck,” comes the reply from above. “Are you okay?”

Sherlock squints in the dark, wetting his dry lips with his tongue as he takes stock of his body. At least the two breaks, possibly a mild concussion, and sweat rising on his brow. Shock. “No,” he finally says, swallowing around the taste of bile. “I need an ambulance.

Lestrade spits another short curse. “With how much you hate going to the A&E, I take it that it’s bad?”

“Rather bad,” Sherlock replies, trying for humour and just sounding weak and ragged. “I believe I’m going into shock.”

Instead of answering, Lestrade starts barking orders. Setting his temple carefully against something cold and metal, Sherlock blinks in the dark and takes in his surroundings. A shape shivers and sags against the wall of the lift shaft not far from where he lies. Given Alice’s lack of response to the shouting, he’s not confident she is anything like okay. Only the constant shivering tells him she’s still alive, and he clears his throat before shouting, “Make that two ambulances.” Swallowing, Sherlock sucks in a breath at a ripple of agony from his leg and adds, “I found Alice. Alive, but not conscious.”

“Got it,” Lestrade calls back. A light shines down, and Sherlock squints. He can’t make out Lestrade’s face, and likely the DI can’t see him either, but the beam from the torch is a point of light in the dark, and Sherlock fixates on it. “We’re gonna get you out, alright?”

“That would be preferred,” Sherlock replies, trying for venom and only sounding tired.

A rope snaps down next to his head. Tossed from above, it hangs in the air with a silent expectancy. Staring at it, Sherlock hopes Lestrade doesn’t expect him to climb up the offering. When it begins to shake and wiggle, he knows someone must be climbing down. A small, shaky sigh escaping his lips, Sherlock tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, though whether the comfort is for his benefit or Alice’s, he doesn’t know.

As his mind begins to darken and drift, he feels a pang of guilt for not letting John know where he’d be today. Sherlock has time for one last passing thought of how he’ll manage with two broken limbs, whether or not John will even bother to visit him at the hospital, and if this little stunt will shatter the tenuous connection between them before everything fades away.

***

The faint drone of voices draws Sherlock out of his head, and he opens his eyes to bright lights and white coats. He blinks, squints and blinks again, waiting for his vision to clear. When it finally does, he finds a young woman standing over him with a small smile.

“Hello, Mister Holmes,” she greets, and Sherlock blinks once more before she introduces herself. “I’m Doctor Seif.”

“Hello,” he replies, his voice rough. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Concussion?”

Doctor Seif nods in sympathy. “Mild, but enough to knock you out. You came in and out of it until we set your leg, then we lost you for a bit from the pain.” She pats his shoulder with a gentle hand. “Your left humerus is broken, but not severe enough for a cast. So we’ve done a splint, but your leg will need a cast.” Moving to set his chart down, she pauses and turns back, adding, “We called your brother—he was listed as your emergency contact. We spoke to his aide, and she said he would be here once he finishes with a meeting.”

Sherlock waves a hand, dismissing both her words and the faint pang he feels at the reminder that John is no longer his emergency contact. “He’ll turn up. Always does, just like a bad penny.” Doctor Seif laughs.

“I have two older sisters. I know just how you feel.” Tapping his chart, she tilts her head. “Now, let’s get you fixed up and out of here, shall we?”

Sherlock’s smile is small and strained, but an attempt nonetheless. “Certainly.”

***

The cast is bulky, and his arm aches in the splint, his pain barely impacted by the basic painkillers. But Sherlock refused anything stronger, and he grits his teeth hard against the discomfort as a nurse helps him into the protocol-dictated wheelchair. Doctor Seif stands next to him with a script in her hand for prescription refills. She hands both the slip of paper and a crutch to Sherlock once he’s seated.

“Let me know if anything changes or you experience worsening pain or signs of infection,” she says, waiting for Sherlock’s tired nod. “Otherwise, I’ll see you in a few weeks to evaluate the arm. Good evening, Mister Holmes.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock says in a quiet voice. He is exhausted, his body heavy with fatigue and faded adrenaline. He tilts his head toward the nurse, who begins wheeling him out of the room and down the hall.

They make it only a few feet before footsteps sound behind them, and a panting voice calls out, “Sherlock!”

The man pushing his chair pauses, and Sherlock turns his head to see John trotting down the hall toward them. Bemused, Sherlock glances at the nurse, who shrugs. He turns his attention back to John, who pulls up in front of them with a sigh.

“Sorry,” he gasps, straightening with his hands on his hips as he pulls in a loud inhale. “Took me a bit to get Rosie to her babysitter’s, then there was traffic, and…” John shakes his head. “But nevermind that, I’m here now.”

Sherlock stares up at him. “You’re… here?” he repeats, confused. John’s brow furrows, first with confusion, then with understanding.

“Of course I’m here. Greg called me, then Mycroft.” His frown deepens. “Was surprised to hear he’s your emergency contact.”

Sherlock’s eyes dart away, and he doesn’t reply.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the nurse cuts in, his voice reluctant, “but I need the chair, so if I can wheel you outside…”

“Yeah, of course,” John says, picking up where the words trail off. “I can take it from there.”

The three of them continue down the hall, the nurse pushing Sherlock in the chair with John at his side. They walk in silence, with Sherlock darting quick, bemused looks at John from the corner of his eye. John either doesn’t notice or pretends not to, and Sherlock is grateful for whichever it is.

Once outside, the nurse stops, and Sherlock starts wrestling with the crutch, the chair, his own body until John quietly murmurs, “Can I help?”

Sherlock pauses and glances up at him before nodding once, a stiff jerk of his head. Something like relief and gratitude passes over John’s face, there and gone too quickly to verify. Before Sherlock can take the opportunity to study him, John moves around to his side, the one without a splinted arm, and loops his hand gently around Sherlock’s torso. John helps him onto his uncasted foot, slips the crutch in place, and keeps close as Sherlock tests out a little hop forward. He is clumsy and awkward but mobile and shuffles along slowly. John stays close, helping where he can, one hand resting light and ready on the small of Sherlock’s back.

When Sherlock finally raises his head, coaxed forward by John’s quiet voice, he sees a silver car and freezes. John almost bumps into him and stops just in time, steadying Sherlock.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head to look at Sherlock’s face.

Brow furrowed, Sherlock blinks at the car. “You bought a car?”

“Yeah, last week,” John says, relief in his expression. “Easier with Rosie, you know? And paying less rent, well, I thought…” he shrugs, letting the words trail off.

Wordlessly, Sherlock nods and lets John lead him off the curb and toward the car. John opens the door and coaxes Sherlock to drape his uninjured arm around his neck, helping him scoot down into the passenger seat.

Once John is next to him, sitting behind the wheel and waiting for Sherlock to finish getting settled, he doesn’t seem to know where to look. When he, at last, opens his mouth to speak, he and Sherlock talk over one another.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

They both go silent and still, staring at one another. Blowing a loud exhale out through pursed lips, John breaks the standoff first.

“First off, I’m glad you’re relatively okay, considering.” Sherlock braces himself for the angry words, the dressing-down. But John just looks at him with a small, tentative smile, and Sherlock stares as John quietly says, “And of course I came.” He clears his throat, eyes darting to the windshield before they return to Sherlock’s questioning face. “I know things have been… well. I know it’s not like it was before, but I… I want to try.” Swallowing hard enough to make his throat bob, John looks at Sherlock with a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes. “I know I have no right to ask for it, but I want a chance to show you things are different.” Hands clenching slowly inward then outward in his lap, John’s voice drops. “I want to show you that I’ve changed.”

“John…” Sherlock starts, only to find he doesn’t have any more words. John seems to understand, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“I want to redeem myself, Sherlock,” he says and holds up a hand to silence the protests he can no doubt see rising on Sherlock’s lips. “Don’t tell me there’s nothing to make up for because we both know that’s not true.” The small smile fades, and he reaches out to slip his fingers over Sherlock’s where Sherlock’s hand rests on the centre console. It’s unexpected and entirely welcome, and Sherlock blinks down at their hands before looking up at John. “I’m here because we’re a team.” His eyebrows twitch upward, and he adds, “Just the two of us, right? Against the world?” His smile is small and hopeful, and Sherlock feels a rush of warmth at the sight and the words.

“Of course, John,” he replies, nodding. “Just the two of us. And Rosie.”

This time, John’s smile is firm and confident, his laugh pleased and just a little surprised. His fingers curl between Sherlock’s knuckles with gentle but firm pressure. “Just the two of us and Rosie,” he agrees. His eyes glitter, and Sherlock’s lips twitch upward in quiet acceptance.

When John starts the car and guides them out of the parking lot, their fingers stay slotted together on the centre console.

[neitimatch]

So Basically a fanfiction idea

So, this’ll be basically just rambling. Since I got an idea for BNHA fic after reading some and decided to write it somewhere, even though I might never actually write it, seeing as I’m already swamped with buncha stories along with work etc. This’ll have trans headcanons and femslash.

Oh well, here we go:

Magne and Midnight both survive but neither of them are in good shape. There might be some timeline differences since I want both Magne and Midnight at the same hospital at the same time.

On Magnes case, the villains realize that they need to get her to hospital or she would surely die. So they show her up at the hospital and she ends up in the heroes custody. She will be in a coma for few months and then wake up. Some time goes past and none of the villains come to visit her cause, duh, they would just get caught. Until one of the guards acts differently than normally and they turn out to be Toga. She tells Magne about all their plans that they are going to bust her out and she’ll come with them and they will be whole family again. But Magne isn’t nearly as enthused and just tells Toga that it would be safer to just leave her here. The heroes would surely have a way to track her by now and she doesn’t want to put rest of the League in danger. Then Toga is like:

“You are the heart of the League, Big Sis, you can’t just give up. I- we can’t just give up on you.”

And then Magne, in big sis fashion, puts a hand on Togas shoulder and just tells her that her number one priority is to keep them all safe now. Toga cries but accepts that this is what Magne wants.

Then Midnight ends up in the same hospital in really bad shape. Izuku wants to go see her but Inko is a bit iffy, fearing that since Midnight is in such a bad shape the villains would just come and stab her or something and Izuku would be hurt too. So she tags along(Don’t question it, it’s mom instinct and even if your child could level down buildings it’s still mom’s instincts to try to protect them.) 

When they come to the hospital, Aizawa is there, just leaving to go see Magne. Though he doesn’t tell that to Izuku. The moment Midnight(referred as Nemuri from here on out) sees Inko, she is immediately smitten. She answers and talks with Izuku while low-key flirting with Inko. Inko though, in a fashion, is oblivious.

These two, Inko and Izuku visiting Midnight and Toga Magne every week, continue for a little over a month, until they happen at the same time.

Toga visits Magne, but when she’s leaving, she decides that it would be fun to see what kind of other patients there are in the building and maybe stab them a whole bunch. She goes through some who all seem boring, but then she comes to Midnights room and sees Izuku and Inko there with the hero. She is really happy at first, since Izuku is there, and she reasons that Inko will be as good as Izuku since she is his mom. Toga is about to make her move but she sees Inko hugging a crying Izuku and something in her just snaps and she stops. She keeps looking at the scene and feeling something. Usually it would be jealousy or hatred, because of her parents. But now she just feels longing. 

Toga stands there and doesn’t even realize when her disguise disappears, she just keeps looking at them. Izuku then proceeds to see her and goes full on protective mode. But Toga doesn’t do anything, she just keeps staring. Inko realizes what Izuku is looking at and goes to confront the girl, not listening to Izukus pleas to stay, since this silent staring Toga seems much scarier than the normal insnae one.

Inko and Toga look at each other while Izuku is like: Get away from her, she is insane, the more she likes someone the more likely she is to stab them, I should know!

But then realizes that Toga is not looking Izukus way, she is just silently staring at Inko. She brings up her hand and just keeps it towards Inko.

And then she starts crying. And backs off.

Inko feels Toga’s pain and is like: If you want, we can talk more tomorrow evening if you come to my place.

Toga looks back and nods and Izuku is going nuts.

Toga meets Inko next evening as Izuku is at U.A. She is completely reserved at first. But when Inko asks what happened to her next to Nemuris room, she just starts sobbing but also telling her story. How her family hated her, how heroes turned a blind eye when she was thrown out. How all of the people who tried to help just tried to force Quirk suppressants on her. That everyone, until she joined the League, just saw her as something that needed to be fixed, none who accepted her fully. She tells Inko that not her Quirks power, but that she needs blood. She is basically a vampire so her mental state will deteriorate if she goes without for too long.

Inko at the end, while Toga is just having a break down and sobbing, is hugging the girl and is like: Imma adopt her!

Next morning, while Toga is still sleeping at Izukus bed after crying herself to sleep, Inko goes to Nemuri, who she has started low-key dating(they are putting it off until Nemuri gets released). She tells her about what Toga told her and Nemuri is like: They won’t let you adopt her since they see her as a danger and don’t think you are strong enough to have her at house arrest. She will also take this surprisingly well, seeing as she saw Toga when she was at the hospital thing. She then tells crying Inko that she’ll do her best. Nemuri is then released the next day.

Though before she leaves the hospital, Nemuri goes with Aizawa to talk to Magne. And she asks AIzawa to leave so she can talk with Magne girl-to-girl. Nemuri tells Magne about Toga situation, and at first Magne is really scared for her little sis, but then Nemuri asks what she would give to have Toga safe, and Magne is like: Literally anything as long as it doesn’t hurt her chosen family(aka the league).

Nemuri is not really that happy, but Magne tells her that while they would most likely not gain Leagues secrets, they would still get two high ranking away form there. Nemuri then decides to make a deal with Magne: Toga will be safe and so will she, but Magne needs become a trans-advisor to U.A. and take Quirk suppressants, she will also be allowed to transition medically(since she wasn’t allowed before due to being a villain). Toga would go to U.A. to study to be a hero and they would keep an eye on both of them there.They would not ask for Leagues secrets, but one misstep from either of them and they’ll both go to jail for the rest of their lives. Magne agrees.

Nemuri ends up adopting Toga(Now Kayama Himiko, referred to as Himiko from here on out.) Nemuri tells Inko what had happened who is extremely happy. Himiko takes the adoption and and deal really well, though she is sad that she can’t go to play with the other League members anymore. She is somewhat weary of her new mother, who is also weary of her, but after few weeks they get along fine, though Himiko refuses to call Nemuri mom and just sticks to first name.

Meanwhile Izuku is having a mental breakdown in school, as they have started to question their gender. It started with a party they had hosted where all girls had boys uniforms on and boys girls, and Izuku realized they really enjoyed having a skirt on. The first idea that they came to was that they were a cross dresser, but it just didn’t sit well, so they started to do some research. Then they had a talk with Aizawa, who contacted Tiger, thinking  Izukuthat he would know way more about gender issues than a sleep-deprived professor. Izuku and Tiger talk, but seeing as Tiger is a trans man, while he can understand and give advice, he also advices Izuku to ask more from a trans woman. Izuku is more confident after the talk, and few days later Aizawa tells the class that they have a new gender-advisor and Izuku goes to immediately meet her, aka Magne, gets scared seeing the ex-villain, but after a bit calms down and they talk. Magne snarks a lot but as Izuku continues to be truthful and looking kinda scared of themselves, Magne starts to feel the old big sis powers kicking in, and she talks with Izuku seriously, at the end they both feel much better, Magne even telling Izuku to come back whenever they wish if they need. Few days later Izuku goes back to Magne and tells her that they are indeed, a trans woman(Referred from now on as Izu, and later on Izumi), Magne then advices Izu that she needs to do what is best for her, telling people she fully trusts first and going from there. Izu acknowledges this and thanks Magne, who is then like: Just call me Big Sis.

Izu tells Ochako, who is first little bit lost but the full on supportive, she also tells Tsu whojust smiles and is like: Kero.

Few months go by and Himiko has started to call Nemuri: Mama or Mama Nemuri. She is not really that much different, but with steady supply of blood now granted to her, she has lost her bloodlust. She also, since Nemuri and Inko are dating, calls Inko: Mommy. The school year is also coming to an end and Nemuri decides to propose to Inko, who says yes and they move in together.

When the year finally ends, Izu shows up at her home, with her support group ready as she is going to tell Inko about her being trans. Her support group consists of Todoroki, Ochako and Tsu. Though what she does not know is that Nemuri and Inko have moved in together, so when the door opens and out bursts Kayama Himiko, yelling: Big bro Izuku, not only does Izu get bad dysphoria, but also is just scared about Himiko being here. Himiko then proceeds to be like: Since we are siblings now my love for you is purely platonic!

And Izu is like: Thank god, I’m straight so it would have just ended in heartbrea... wait what siblings!?!?!

Himiko then proceeds to jump Ochako, who catches her in a bubble and they squabble a little. The group then goes inside and Nemuri and Inko tell whats up, Himiko is contantly clinging on Ochako, who has stopped trying to force the girl away since she would just come back anyway. Izu then asks to talk with Inko privately and tells her mom about her being trans. Inko is totally just like: I HAVE TWO DAUGTHERS NOW, AWESOME!!!

Like, WAY, too excited but it makes Izu feel better, Izu also tells her mother that she will go by Izumi from now on. After they talk and cry a bit Izumi goes back to her friends and Inko gets Himiko and Nemuri and tells them whats up. Nemuri has a small shock but gets over it really quickly and just can’t seem to stop smiling. Himiko on other hand completely flies of the fucking flip, not because Izumi was trans, she had Big Sis Mag after all, but because she remembered that she had misgendered her at the door. Himiko literally LAUNCHES herself at Izumi and just keeps telling her how sorry she is, with full on teateristics and all. Izumi just smiles and tells her that she didn’t know and its okay now. Todoroki leaves for his home during night after a romantic? farewell with Izumi.

Next day the girls go to shop new clothes for Izumi, they have bunch of money as Nemuri had been like: Take my money and use as much as you like, my new daughter needs clothes, dammit!

And they bring home a total haul. Some lazing around clothes(Tsu) Casual clothes(Ochako) and erotic clothes(Himiko, who constantly kept telling Izumi how much Todoroki was going to like them later on.)

When the school starts again, Izumi goes in with girls uniform and informs all of her changes, while most people are fine there are some, mainly Bakugou, who is not very kind at the beginning(He will warm up and stop being a transphobe later on and become the cool Aniki type) and the the class pervert(who keeps asking about literally everything trans related and asking for Izumi to perv for him. Don’t worry, he’ll get kicked out from U.A. or just dies somewhere and nobody cares)

After few weeks of school, Magne calls Izumi to talk with her(She has been on hormones for months now and lost muscle mass. She looks like a ripped lady now with all working parts(Yes I know this is not how it works at the moment at our world, sadly, but this is a fantasy world and it can have super effective hormone treatment, dammit), she tells Izumi that she can start her medical transition. So Izumi starts.

During the fall break, Nemuri and Inko have their wedding and Himiko and Izumi are going to be the flower girls. Bunch of the students attend. Later during the reception, Bakugou meets Izumi and asks her for a dance. Izumi agrees but only after her boyfriend, Shoto Todoroki, had promised to keep an eye on them the whole time. Bakugou apologizes to Izumi and while they don’t immediately go back to being friends(years of abuse plus transphobia, not gonna be easy) they start being more civil towards each other with hope that maybe later on they can be friends again.

Meanwhile Ochako has finally decided to act on her feelings and show Himiko who is the top of their relationship. Himiko is is more than happy with this development as they keep kissing outside the reception. Nemuri and Inko, who had asked before Izumis thoughts on the matter, finally tell their daughters that Izumi is now legally Nemuris adopted daughter, and that her and Inkos last names have been changed to Kayama.

Epilogue:

Inko and Nemuri are happily together, loving their children and grandchild.

Himiko and Ochako have a daughter and are engaged. Ochako is overly protective mom and Himiko is the 'cool' mama.

Shoto and Izumi are married and Izumi is pregnant.(Fantasy Woooooorrrrld~~)

[astralglam]

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

1. What does your muse smell like?

without soap or perfume, 683 smells bizarrely sterile, chemical-ish, like a dentist’s office, bleach or cleaning supplies.  like hand sanitizer that kills 99.9% of germs.  they have that faint smell of powdery clean cosmetics, only because they wear so much foundation, face powder and setting spray.  humans like things that smell less artificial, so 683 takes to using cheap perfume (think a teenager who just learned to douse themselves with axe or bath and bodyworks spray), which is artificial in a slightly more palatable way.  their clothes (which are almost all second hand) have that mothball-musty smell of a thrifted dress that hasn’t been washed yet, like an old book.    

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

cold, frigid and icy, almost like a mannequin’s if you left the mannequin in the freezer. their skin is tight over their tendons and fingers, with almost waxy, plasticy skin stretched over their joints and knuckles, which makes them seem very fragile.  sometimes their palms are uncannily clammy.  their skin on their palms isn’t rough or calloused but they’re starting to get scars on their fingertips from their voyages into the realm of string instruments.  they used to have very neat, clean and unpainted nails, but nowadays, they have divots and cracks because 683 is clumsy with the strings.  

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?

683 is often at the mercy of when their friends will decide to cook for them/buy them food.  they don’t have any cooking skills and can barely wash and cut an apple (this isn’t because they’re stupid, on atomina they were used to communal dining with a designated set of people who cooked for everyone in their unit).  683 is naturally accustomed to eating plant matter and (unlike us humans) has a way better digestive system for breaking down cellulose and gets a lot more out of their vegetarian diet than you might expect (two stomachs aint for nothin).  left to their own devices they just eat Whatever (orange? handfuls of spinach, unwashed, pesticides dont hurt them.  microwave a tomato and watch it explode.  brave cutting open an avocado and just eating it with a spoon).  dinner is when priscilla either buys him take out or sid cooks something for him (and sid is an amazing cook!!!).  sid isn’t vegetarian, but his family is, so he knows how to make all kinds of dishes perfect for 683 -- substitute the dairy for nondiary alternatives and 683′s getting matter paneer (with tofu instead), malai kofta (with coconut milk), and aloo gobi (no butter), all sorts of things !!! 

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

sort of.  683′s voice, by itself, is nasally and weird and a little grating, but their devotion to music lets them make the most out of their “strange” voice and almost use it to their benefit to sound unique, different, super far out !11!11111  their lyrics, instrumentals and emotion combined is what makes them a talented musician rather than just a good quality voice.  so while they might not have a very pretty voice, they’re still a skilled singer due to their delivery.  

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?

im assuming this is about bad (physical) habits rather than personality deficiencies (of which 683 has many).  683 stares, like, really just stares at people with reckless abandon, they havent figured out it’s rude.  they arent good at even pretending to listen so if they’re disinterested in what you have to say, they’ll look elsewhere, pick at their nails, mumble or interrupt you.  always finds a way to make the conversation about themself.  very disorganized and messy, has a hard time taking care of objects even if they value them (ex. dropping his guitar, misplacing jewelry, yanking a belt off and breaking it).  definitely self pities and has no problem trying to guilt you for everything and anything.  is a pretty frequent smoker, but is polite enough not to smoke if you ask him not to.  

683 is always a little nervous so their nervous ticks are just their baseline state of being (wringing hands, stammering, talking really fast, making insane gestures all around you but being too afraid to touch you, etc)

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

683 looks very put together at all times -- not necessarily polished or professional, but very intentional, in that you can tell they definitely made a conscious choice to dress the way they do.  he wore the same dumb uniform every day for the first 20 years of his life, so he’s very excited to try new clothing options.  

more femme-ish clothing preferences go to boxy, sleeveless a-line dresses, miniskirts, bright floral patterns, big plastic earrings, headbands, scarves, etc.  they like clunky platforms and prefer to wear boots.  very 60s mod and colorblocked.  she loves bright eyeshadow but tends to go for more neutral lipstick.  can never figure out what to do with her hair so she usually leaves it down or does a half-up half-down bun kinda deal.  

more masc clothing preferences are bell bottoms, button ups with butterfly collars, paisley print, turtlenecks and fringe jackets, etc. earthy tones and weird nasty olive green.  very late 60s / early 70s. prog rock flavor or glam rock flavor.  never got into the disco style only because he cant pull it off because he’s so scrawny and twitchy and has no chest hair to impress the ladies.    

one thing about 683 is that he hates tight long sleeves and goes insane if he has to wear them.  his uniform was sleeveless, so even short sleeves feel really weird and horrible on his arms.  prefers sleeveless, can do with short sleeves, 3/4ths sleeve or loose long sleeve, really tries to avoid tight/constricting long sleeves.  

i have a pinterest board of potential fits for him although i havent updated it because i barely know how to use pinterest.

7. Is your muse affectionate?  How much?  How so?

to most people, not really, he’s kind of a weird cagey asshole.  oscillates between fascinated with physical touch (suddenly wanting to hug his friends or snuggle with them or grabbing strangers when he’s trying to talk to them) to despising contact (cringes if you touch his hand when you pass him a cup).  he didnt grown up with a culture very big on it, so he isn’t sure if he likes it or not yet.  

to people he does care about, he tends to take his friends for granted but overperform affection for those he has romantic interest in.  not that he doesnt also dearly love and adore his friends, he’s just not the best at expressing his care for them other than random bursts of kindness and dissolving back into his weird normal self.  his understanding of romance has come from a very commercial, media-influenced place (he learns about it through television, novels and commercials, it’s not really inherent to his species) so he thinks romance is about buying flowers, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes for three hours, etc. if he has romantic interest in you, he will constantly over and over again tell you how much he likes you and your company and you are soooo funny hahahhahhfhh, and will be unusually touchy (clings to your arm, sits RIGHT next to you, drops his head on your shoulder, etc).  

8. What position does your muse sleep in?

683 didnt know what blankets were until he came to earth (or deep space nine) !!! his old room was perfectly temperature controlled and he already has a lower natural body temperature, so there was no need for blankets at all.  human beds with big pillows and blankets are THE COOLEST, so he either curls up underneath a blanket with only the top of his head poking out or he sprawls out like a starfish to take advantage of as many pillows as possible.  his special move is to roll up in the blanket like some kind of little alien lumpia.  

he’s a fitful sleeper so if you sleep in the same bed as him, he’ll punch you or kick you on accident.  he does appreciate company, though, and will also plaster himself up against you and leech your body heat with his weird cold body.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

depends.  they have a very average speaking voice and aren’t necessarily very loud (plus platforms dull footsteps), but if they were excited, they might raise their voice or yell or exclaim something.  and then they’re very shrill, so yes, you would hear her.  

Tagged by:  @sampati im sorry i took like a week it was really fun i love to type letters and words on the computer Tagging: @dynaura or @pataparty (for whoever you want) / @phantombs / @ofgentleresolve (for lamon? or anyone you want, really!!) / @bystcrdust / @kyrieleisen / @baelends / @bup1957

[thewritepages]

The Diary of the Older Collegiate (#TheFreshman Series) (1)

Synopsis : Annabelle Green is somewhat in a situation no thirty year woman would want to find herself in : (Un) Happily divorced, childless and with a job worth peanuts and migraine. The downward spiral of her life doesn't seem to end anytime soon until her sister reminds her of her most cherished dream.

College.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

MAY 3, 2019

3.30 A.M.

----------------------------------------------------

I hate myself.

No, really. I may have called it once or twice in the past due to mild anger or frustration, but this.

This is real.

I mean, I may be the only person who would:

A) Cry over a failed marriage during an interview

B) Scratch that, cry over a failed marriage in midst of the most IMPORTANT interview in my entire career!

C) Go straight to the pub later to drown my sorrows when I know perfectly well what would happen if I do get drunk.

D) Do what would be obvious to a broken-hearted, career destroyed, thirty year old drunk woman: Leave a string of carefully selected profanities on the voice mail of my beloved ex-husband.

E) Waking up several hours later on the side of god-knows-what street staring in horror at the drunken messages I've sent to everyone in my cell's contact list- which would also include my parents.

And to think of it, I managed it all in little less than 12 hours last night.

I think I'll just dig a burrow in my apartment and never come out of it. Wait a minute...

That's it! I'm never leaving my apartment again. It'll be perfect- I'll take up one of those work-at-home jobs they always advertise on the internet, eat ramen noodles for sustenance and stay protected from the world outside throughout my life.

In fact, I'll tip off my doorman to tell my family that I've left to pursue my inner self and I may never come back again. As many years pass by, my family would mourn over my presumed death while I get a plastic surgery done and change my name to something untraceable like Ronal Wallis.

Oh, jolly good! A brilliant idea. Why didn't I ever think of this before?

MAY 3, 2019.

13.30 P.M.

---------------------------------------------------

Err; maybe the whole change-my-identity-and-live-happily plan didn't exactly work.

Don't get me wrong, it didn't totally blow up or anything. My doorman, Steve did his job perfectly, informing my sister that I have indeed joined Deepak Chopra on a journey to find myself in a tiny village in the Himalayan Valleys. He narrated the story in such a sober tone that even I found myself believing him for a moment.

But Steve and I didn't realize that in order to leave the country, I would actually need my passport- The passport which is still in my ex-husband's apartment along with the rest of the stuff I was going to pick up this week.

Unfortunately, my sister was very much aware of this piece of information.

"Anna, it's been two months. You've got to get your shit together. You cannot stay dep-" I gave my sister a warning glance.

Not the D-word. Definitely not the D-word.

"I'm completely fine."I mumbled, looking down at the dregs of my empty coffee mug.

"No, you're not completely fine Annabelle Green. You've stopped calling, stop visiting all of us. Hell, nowadays you don't even get your ass out of the bed. Now, I know what Luc-"she stopped short, taking in my pained expression.

Another word I do not want to hear – Luc- Lucas.

Lucas .Lucas. Lucas.

"I'm sorry," Kat, my sister, bowed her head down low. "I shouldn't have brought him up."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." My eyes closed from exhaustion. "Kat, why are you here?"

"Well, last night you-"

"I KNOW. It was a mistake. And I think I sent an explanatory text earlier this morning."

"That won't stop me from checking up on you, Anna. I'm bloody worried about you."

My eyes descend down to her enormous belly. She shouldn't worry about me right now- I'm not the one who is due for two bouncing baby boys in less than two months.

Did I just say bouncing? Oh, Lord.

"How're the boys kickin'?" I pat her belly gently, forcing myself to smile.

Her face instantly relaxes. "Oh, they're kickin', all right," she smiles at me, "Didn't give me a wink of sleep last week."

Well, that makes the two of us.

"I can't wait for little John and Paul to meet their ol' Aunt Anna." At least this was true. The arrival of my twin nephews is the only thing keeping me up for the past couple of months.

"Anna, we have talked about this. I'm not naming the kids after The Beatles."

"Why not? I recommend you have another set of twin boys so we'll have the entire boy band in our family."

"And have four crazy boys running around the household? No thanks. Phil and I would probably die of insanity."

Sigh. Phil and Kat. Their story is the closest you'd ever get to a fairytale- childhood sweethearts; they were two young teenagers wildly in love but were painfully separated to colleges at the opposite ends of the country. When it looked like it was truly over between them, they reconciled during the summer after college. It was literally The Notebook all over again, leaving out all the letter writing and the crazy house building. I don't think Phil is capable of fixing a broken lock, let alone build an entire house.

Suddenly, I felt someone holding my hand tightly. I look up to see Kat's eyes filled with tears. "Annie, come home. Mum and Dad miss you. I miss you. We want to stay with you in these difficult times. A few days away from Seattle will do you good. "She gets up. "Mum, Dad and Phil are waiting for us in the car downstairs. I'll help you pack up."

My heart softens, but I raise my eyebrows in sarcasm. "So, they sent you to emotionally blackmail me, right? Well, it's working, Mommy –in-waiting."

She tweaks my nose playfully. "It always does, baby sis."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N :

Hi there, thank you for taking the time to read my new diary styled new ChickLit series:

"The Diaries of an Older Collegiate"(#TheFreshman).

If this chapter ignited an interest for this series, please let me by reblogging or sending me a message. I'm very new to Tumblr writing so it'll really help me calm my nerves :")

Lastly, I'm tagging a few lovely authors here whose works I've been binge reading and they've really inspired me to put out my work out here. Authors, if you like this chapter, I'd be very grateful if you could share it among your network and let me know :)))))

@go1denjeon, @ladyartemesia,@noteguk,@junghelioseok

[anna-justice]

Lost or Found - 19

Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU

...

19 - You’re Mine Now ...

Hailey laughed loudly as Jay spun her around, they had been dancing with their friends for a while and she hadn’t stopped smiling since. Jay grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him as they swayed. Despite not being able to feel her toes and a pounding headache, it was magical.

The loud music continued and Hailey felt warm breath against her neck. “I love you.” Jay whispered in her ear, only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

Hailey pulled away feigning shock. “Really? I had no idea.” She teased and Jay rolled his eyes and pulled her close, swooping down and capturing her lips with his. “I’m still not convinced…” Hailey said against him before kissing him again.

The pair was forced apart by an announcement from the stage, it was time to crown Homecoming King and Queen. Adam and Kim found their way to Hailey and Jay’s side to await the news. Kim and Adam were both on the court, and everyone agreed that either of them could use a win right now.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please help me welcome to the stage this years homecoming king: Kelly Severide.” One of the teachers called from the stage, and the crowd immediately erupted. Hailey followed her peers, clapping for her attacker. Jay wrapped a protective arm around her waist, his jaw clenched tight.

“Sorry babe.” Kim said, peering up at her boyfriend.

Adam shrugged, “It’s okay. I’m not surprised, it’s Severide.” He laughed, lightening the mood.

They four of them watched as the massive (quite ugly) crown was placed on his head. Jay scoffed, “What a king.” Hailey pushed herself further into him, squeezing the hand that wasn’t resting on her side.

“I’m okay. Don’t let him ruin tonight.” She said and Jay placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for! This years homecoming queen: Sylvie Brett!” They all cheered loudly for their friend, watching a sheepish Sylvie make her way up the stairs to the stage. Matt stood right at the front, cheering for his girlfriend and his best friend: something he never thought he would do.

Jay’s pocket buzzed against Hailey’s hip, causing her to jump. He reached in, grabbing Jay’s attention and pulling out Erin’s phone.

BLOCKED ID: Sweet sweet Sylvie, finally finding her place in the popular crowd. It’s time for the princess to tell everyone who the real queen is. You know…

Jay’s head snapped up, scanning the crowd for anyone out of the ordinary. “Who ever this son of a bitch is, they’re here.”

“Kim.” Hailey said sadly, calling her and Adam over. Once she had their attention, she held up the phone.

Kim sighed, glancing towards the stage where a beaming Sylvie was posing for a photo. “Why does it have to be Sylvie?” She asked sadly.

“I’ll do it.” Adam said, taking her hand.

“No Adam.” Kim snapped, “You can’t. Remember what happened last time?” Hailey looked down at the scar popping out of the front of her dress. “We have to play their game.”

Hailey placed a hand on Kim’s shoulder. “We’ll wait for you by the door, we can high tail it out of here.”

Kim nodded, turning towards the stage. She booked it to the front, taking a deep breath before ascending the stairs. The crowd quieted down as she made it to the top, “Kim?” Sylvie asked, shocked.

“I’m so sorry.” Kim muttered before reaching and taking off her crown. The student body gasped and Sylvie looked so hurt that Kim couldn’t bear to look at her. “I chose to be on the Court last year...with Erin. We had been talking about it since freshman year, and today I stood in this room without her. We all know that if she would have been here, she would have won. And so I say we crown her queen, because she deserved it more than anyone and she deserves to be remembered.” With a shaky breath, Kim handed the crown back to Sylvie and rushed to her friends.

When they reached their cars in the parking lot, Kim broke down, Adam holding her tight as she cried. Hailey stayed tucked into Jay’s chest, hurting for her friend.

Buzz.

BLOCKED ID: You said all the right things Kim, but was it enough?

Jay read it aloud. “What?” Kim choked out. “How was that not enough? God, I can’t take this anymore. Erin wouldn’t have wanted this.” Kim grabs the phone out of Jay’s hand and smashes it on the ground.

“Kim!” Jay calls out right before she digs her heel into the cracked glass. “What did you do?”

Kim took a deep breath, “It’s over. We’re done. Loosing Erin was hard enough without someone torturing us. If they want to hurt us again, they can show their face.” Breathing hard, she stepped on the phone once again. “I’m sorry.” With that she climbed into Adam’s jeep, shutting the door.

Adam sighed, “We should probably head over to Kevin’s, tell him what happened.”

Jay nodded, grabbing Hailey’s hand. “Yeah, we’ll meet you there.”

The pair made their way to Jays truck, sighing as they hut the doors. “It’s been an eventful night.” Jay joked, trying to lighten the mood. Hailey just nodded, pressing her lips together. “Hailes?”

“She smashed the phone Jay.” She rushed out, looking at him with teary eyes for the third time that night. “She broke it, what are we going to do?”

“It’ll be fine.” Jay said, reaching across the center console to hold her hand.

“What if it’s not?” She snapped. “Jay you saw what happened last time. Kim could have died-”

“You could have died.” He said softly, cutting her off.

“Yeah…” She started, “Erin is dead and someone killed her. Kim just destroyed the only thing we have against them and the game keeping us safe. This person has to be psychotic, who knows what they’ll do.” As good as it felt to finally say all the things she had been thinking all along, it was a terrifying admission.

Jay watched a few tears fall from her eyes, his heart clenching. “We will get through this. I don’t know how, but I promise I will not let anything else happen to you.”

Hailey smiled at him, she didn’t know what else to say. She had learned a long time ago that there are some promises you can’t keep, and this one would prove to be the worst.

…

Thirty minutes later the four of them sat in Kevin’s living room, filling him in on the night they had. “So, Sylvie and Matt probably hate us and our stalker can’t easily contact us anymore?”

“Yeah, I’d say that about sums it up.” Adam said.

“Wow.” Kevin leaned forward on his knees, processing.

Jay piped up, “I also thought I saw Erin.” He said, causing Kevin to shoot up in his seat.

“You say Erin?” He asked.

“No,” Jay said cautiously. “I just thought I did, Kev, she’s dead.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Kevin sat there in shock, debating whether of not to tell his friends that Erin had contacted his sister. Well, at least someone pretending to be her did. “Guys, a few weeks ago I came home and found Vinessa playing with a doll that looked just like Erin.”

“What?” Kim asked, jumping out of her seat.

Hailey sat forward, “How did she even get it?”

“I don’t know…” He confessed, “But, right before I was about to leave to meet you guys Vinessa told me that my friends Erin had told her that she would see us soon.”

“Holy shit.” Adam said, running his hands down his face.

Kim ran her hands through her hair, pacing around the room. “What have I done? They already got to Vinessa, and they could still contact us! What did I do?” Adam immediately jumped up to comfort her, pulling her into him.

“This is insane.” Hailey said. “We’re seventeen, we aren’t old enough to handle this on our own. We need to get help.”

“And risk the rest of our families?” Kevin snapped.

“Hailey’s right.” Jay said. “We need to tell someone, maybe Hank? He can handle himself.”

“Of course you agree with her…” Kevin muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jay questioned, standing.

Kevin stood up to face him. “You will always take her side, you did it wth Erin and now you are doing it with Hailey.” He gestured to the two couples, “You guys have each other. Me? I have that little girl in there. And she is everything to me, so is Jordan. I have them to think about. I won’t risk bringing them anywhere closer to this!”

Jay clenched his jaw, “We will do our best to keep everyone safe, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with me and Erin.”

“This has everything to do with you and Erin! With all of us and Erin. This all started when you decided to look for her, you couldn’t give her up, but then all of the sudden Hailey swoops in and all that matters is her?” Kevin yelled, “Can you honestly tell me that if Erin was magically alive you wouldn’t go running back to her?”

“Kevin!” Kim shouted, he had crossed a line.

Hailey stared at Jay, awaiting his answer. “I wouldn’t, I love Hailey and how dare you say that I don’t.”

“I’m sorry Jay, it’s not like its your ex girlfriend that got us into this mess in the first place.” Kevin snapped, exasperated.

“Enough.” Kim shouted over them. “She was my best friend, she was our friend.”

“Was she though?” Kevin asked, softer this time.

“Kevin-” Adam started.

“No,” He said, cutting him off. “Erin was a master manipulator, to the point where someone hated her so much that they killed her. She destroyed people, she blackmailed people, she kept each of us around to make sure she stayed relevant. We were her perfect friends, her power. I don’t know how you all don’t see it. She almost blew up a teachers career and shamed Nadia out of town all because she felt threatened. She hated Hailey because Jay thought she was nice! Kim you were just a pawn-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Adam shouted. “I wasn’t the biggest Erin fan ever, but this isn’t helping.”

“Adam’s right,” Hailey said, speaking for the first time in a while. “This is what they want, for us to tear each other apart. But guys, we are stronger and safer together.”

“To hell with together,” Kevin said, “If you all can’t see her for who she really was, you can get the out. I won’t sit here and pretend to miss a sociopath anymore.” With that, Kevin stormed out of the room, leaving the rest of them to blankly stare at each other.

“I want to go home.” Kim said quietly.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Jay said.

The four of them regrouped in the driveway, “Adam, I think we should all stay at Kim’s tonight. They have the space and I would feel better if we were all together.” Adam suggested.

“Me too.” Hailey agreed, running her hands up and down her arms. Jay noticed immediately, shugging off his coat jacket and throwing it open Hailey’s shoulders. “Thanks.” She said quietly.

“Hailey and I will swing by my house and then meet you there?” Jay asked.

Adam nodded, “Yeah, see you guys in a bit.”

The two couples went their separate ways, Hailey sighing at the warmth inside the truck. She glanced at the clock on the dash. It was almost midnight. “I’m so tired.” Hailey said, yawning.

Jay reached over his seat and grabbed a blanket off the back bench. “Here, go to sleep. I just want to run in for a change of clothes. I’ll wake you up when we get to Kim’s.”

“Thanks.” She said, smiling at him. She laid her head on the center console, pulling the fuzzy blanket over Jay’s jacket. Before too long she was fast asleep. Jay drove cautiously to his house, leaving the car running when he finally arrived. He was going in for just a few things, including a sweatshirt for Hailey, so he wasn’t too worried about leaving the truck unlocked.

When he reached his front porch, a figure in the chair by the door caused him to jump back. He froze as the person stepped into the dim light, he recognized the soft, almost apologetic, smile immediately. “Erin?”

“Hi, Jay.”

…

A/N: I finally posted! Honestly, I’m on a roll and I hope to post a few other new chapters this weekend! I want to finish this story by New Year’s, so be ready! Thanks for reading! <3

P.S. I went through my regular comments and added some people, I hope that’s okay!

@lissethsrojas @fuckyeahkillianemma @puckluck28 @chilly7188 @thebigapocalypsewolf @karihighman @ruzek-halstead @snowwhite013 @tracysupton @anotheronechicagobog

[warsmith-38]

How I would do RWBY pt.6

Season Six.

RWBY and JNR (and Ozpin, Qrow, and Ilia) on route to Atlas.

SSSN and CFVY have responsibilities in Mistral so they stay back. IE: Ozpin now doubts their loyalty due to their headmaster being compromised.

RWBY and co. get stopped at SDC border checkpoint.

Almost get detained for questioning.

Blake remembers the last time a friend of hers was ‘detained for questioning’.

Winter intervenes, using the authority of the military. Allows RWBY and co. into Atlas.

As soon as they get a moment away from the grunts Winter embraces her sister and admonishes her for not even leaving a note when she left.

She understands why she left, but still.

Blake ribs her a little.

Yang points out to everyone that she’s the only one who’s never ran off without telling anyone.

Winter takes them all to Ironwood.

Ironwood explains that the Atlas military has been doing everything they can to keep the peace short of using scorched earth tactics.

The SDC and the White Fang have armed patrols going through the streets, are having regular firefights in the streets, harassing civilians, and blowing shit up, but almost always peace out when the military shows up.

Jacques is incommunicado and Sienna hasn’t been publicly seen in Atlas for over a decade.

The Atlas government is a bunch of corrupt fuckwits taking bribes from both sides (and Salem too).

Ironwood is doing all he can, but he’s being forced to do it with his hands tied behind his back.

Ruby wants to know if anyone’s seen Cinder.

Ironwood tells her that they’ve been busy with more pressing matters.

Winter says that she has encountered and even fought CEMN.

She lost half of her unit and CEMN got away.

No sign since then and no agents to spare to chase them anyway.

Ruby’s disappointment is curbed by being reunited with rebuilt Penny.

Aren’t data backups a beautiful thing?

She lucked out that her memory core wasn’t destroyed with the rest of her old body.

Her new body, to make room for newer and better features, had to do away with the data backup thing.

If she dies now, she’s dead for good. She only had the one extra life.

Both are beyond overjoyed to see each other again.

Both thought the other was dead until Penny saw Ruby on a news broadcast from Mistral.

Ruby cries while saying that she never thought she’d be able to hold Penny in a hug ever again.

Ciel is there too, not that anyone in or out of universe really cares. (…I care)

She is Penny’s supervisor as well as both Ironwood’s and Winter’s aide.

If she was old enough, she’d take up every vice there is due to how crappy her jobs are.

Everyone notices that Ironwood’s forces are almost equal parts human and faunus.

They cite that they’re sick of the SDC’s many abuses, the White Fang’s lies and broken promises, and the self-righteous indignation of the both of them.

Both sides suck and they have chosen option three.

Option three being telling both sides to go fuck themselves.

Ilia starts to think about things.

Weiss and Winter go to try to talk to Jacques to get whatever intel they can and/or stop the fighting.

Blake and Ilia try the same with Sienna, following whatever dead drop signs they can.

SDC secretary tries to wave Weiss and Winter off.

Jacques hears that his daughters are here and drops everything to talk to them.

W+W try and get Jacques to de-escalate.

He says he’s stuck in a stalemate and can’t even if he wanted to.

If he de-escalates then the White Fang will go wild at the sign of weakness.

He also admits that he’s ready to do the same should the White Fang try to de-escalate.

W+W tell him there’s a good chance that most of the more recent problems are Cinder and co. operating as accelerationists.

Willow enters the picture and sides with her daughters.

Eventually browbeat him into agreeing to a negotiation with Sienna if she also agrees.

Weiss has moment with her mother, finally addressing family problems.

Willow tells her that Jacques was contacted long ago by someone willing to give him an extra monetary and military edge in the fight.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that that someone was Salem.

Weiss is considerably less optimistic about the peace talks now.

Blake and Ilia manage to track down Sienna.

They get sneers and threatening looks from the White Fang members at her hideout.

Blake gets a ‘I’m sorry you had to kill your ex-boyfriend’ hug from aunty Sienna.

Blake accepts the hug in the name of diplomacy.

Doesn’t mention that a good chunk of Adam’s problems were made worse by Sienna’s actions and prompting or were just straight up her fault.

Blake and Ilia try to get Sienna to de-escalate.

Yeah, talking, that’s how you stop violent terrorists, totally. That’s a thing that works.

Sienna tells them that she will only de-escalate if Jacques does so first.

Until she gets a token gesture, it’s business as usual.

Blake tells Sienna about Cinder and that she’s probably causing most of the recent issues for Salem.

Ilia corroborates.

Sienna says she already knows and doesn’t care as long as it might give her an edge.

Damn the ever increasing body count.

Besides, Salem herself has been bankrolling a good chunk of the White Fang’s efforts for a while now.

Blake leaves in a huff and Ilia goes with her, both now entirely disillusioned with Sienna’s leadership as well as Sienna herself.

Ruby, Penny, and Ciel are hunting for signs of Cinder.

Get minimal results but it’s a nice opportunity for them to reconnect.

Penny is more than a little worried at how starved for vengeance Ruby is.

Ciel is skeptical as to if it’s a good idea to leave Penny alone with Ruby.

Yang is with Ironwood, trying to help however she can. Mostly kicking the ass of anyone who slacks off.

Yang is a pretty damn good XO.

She may not have the head for direct leadership, but is good at making troops do their best.

She has gained experience in such things since working with RWB.

Jaune is strategizing circles around Ironwood’s upper echelon.

Hasn’t acted this smug since wargaming night.

Ren and Nora are helping the boots on the ground, even managing to catch a good amount of both SDC militia and White Fang members.

Easier to legally prosecute people if you can catch them. Looks better in the papers and such.

Ozpin is conspiring with his inner circle as to what Salem might be planning in Atlas.

Interfering with the WF-SDC conflict to this degree isn’t Salem’s style.

She didn’t start this one, but it is her style to start a war and bankroll one or both sides.

However, she would leave it at that and let the two sides kill each other as they naturally would.

Come to the conclusion that Cinder is operating as a rogue element from Salem. That makes her less predictable and, as such, all the more dangerous.

That still leaves them in the dark as to what Salem is planning in Atlas or if she even has an active plan in Atlas for that matter.

Ruby meets Penny’s ‘father,’ a weird mad scientist who has a lot of projects ranging in levels of insanity.

Projects include but aren’t limited to: Super lasers, ICBMs, logging the genealogy of most of the planet (this one is important), Penny, making good tasting fruits taste like cat fur, pineapple on pizza, and so many more horrifying crimes against decency.

Atlas higher ups would get rid of him for being insane, but he has tenure.

Some of his projects are rather useful, too.

Ruby makes her excuses and leaves with Penny as the scientist tries to reveal certain revelations.

Yang discovers a little criminal element in the city.

That little criminal is Neo.

Yang learned her lesson from last time, takes her time to take Neo down.

Neo, surprised at how badly she’s losing, escapes with a tracker that Yang plants on her.

Weiss and Blake meet up to touch base on whatever progress they’ve made in peace talks.

Frustratingly little.

They’re both about to return to their contacts and relay plans when Sienna herself shows up with a sizable entourage.

Says that Weiss is coming with her as a bargaining chip against Jacques and asks Blake to stay out of it.

She ain’t gonna.

Ilia takes care of Sienna’s entourage.

WB vs Sienna.

Fight is cut off when SDC forces come to detain as much of RWBY as they can ‘for their own good’.

Goes about as well as expected.

Willow shows up to kick the crap out of them while Blake and Weiss cheese it.

Weiss and Winter had to get it from somewhere and they sure as shit didn’t get it from Jacques.

RWBY reconvenes.

Peace talk plan failed because both sides are led by lying douchebags more concerned about winning than the actual reasons why the fighting started.

Both sides are also being prompted to keep fighting by the same ancient witch-bitch and are too ignorantly angry to even consider the idea.

Fighting ain’t stopping but they can at least see if they can nab the people making things worse.

Ruby is eager to see if she can find and murder Cinder.

Weiss calls for an intervention on Ruby’s vengeance fetish.

Tries to tell her that this is ridiculously unhealthy and taking Cinder alive could infinitely be more useful.

Ruby lashes back at her, citing that Cinder killed Penny in front of all of them.

Penny then comes in to say salutations to everyone.

Ruby then cites that Cinder killed Ozpin.

Ozpin tells them that he’s been ‘killed’ plenty of times, Cinder ain’t special.

Ruby then cites that Cinder killed Pyrrha.

JNR point out that Ruby said less than a dozen words directly to Pyrrha during their time at Beacon and are very offended that Ruby would try and use Pyrrha’s death as a justification for her vendetta.

Ruby refuses to not go after Cinder but does reluctantly agree to try and calm down about it.

Weiss gives her a hug and says that she’s an idiot but she’s still her best friend.

Penny befriends JNR because she’s Penny.

RWBY sets off right as newest round of street skirmishes happens.

Both sides have tanks, explosives, and things that you’d need a really damn good lawyer to justify usage for ‘security’ purposes.

The latest delivery of bribes has arrived so the Atlas government orders that the military stands down and stays out of the conflict entirely.

Ironwood (with Ozpin’s prompting and despite Qrow’s objections) decides fuck that noise.

Orders that any and all SDC or White Fang combatants are to be met with extreme prejudice (the shooting kind of prejudice, not the racism kind).

What’s the government going to do, he’s the one with all the guns.

The monkey with the biggest stick makes the rules.

Peace through power! Peace through power! Peace through power!

JN(P)R work to help maintain order and minimize collateral damage in the warfare.

The P now stands for Penny.

RWBY maneuver through a warzone to where the tracker leads them.

Tracker is leading them to SDC headquarters.

CEMN are planting a big stupid bomb with a big stupid White Fang symbol on it.

CEMN season/arc final boss fight.

The plan was B fights C, Y fights N, R fights M, and Y fights E.

But we all know that was never actually going to happen.

W+Y fight E+M.

B-level 2v2 rival match. Go!

Countdown ‘til boom-boom starts.

Blake gets to work on the bomb. (She’s already had her decisive rival fight)

CEMN did their homework. It’s the exact kind of bomb that the White Fang would have used.

That also means she knows exactly how to disarm it.

Ruby chases Cinder and Neo further up the building.

Corners them and prepares for a fight.

Cinder points out that it took an insane rage state for Ruby to stand a chance and now not only does she not have that, it’s two on one.

Neo then cheap shots Cinder.

Neo reveals that she doesn’t even hate Ruby.

Ruby vs Roman was just business. Live by the sword, die by the sword. No hard feelings.

Her involvement with CEMN was just a ploy to fuck over Cinder, whom she blames for Roman’s death.

Cinder roped him into this crap, not to mention she was the one that set off the bomb that killed him.

Neo’s been subtly fucking up Cinder’s plans as much as possible without being noticeable.

If not for her, Atlas would have exploded while RWBY was chilling in Haven.

Neo’s plan was that Ruby would go berserk again and tear Cinder to pieces with Neo providing the extra edge to Ruby so that another draw doesn’t occur.

All she needed was the three of them alone together.

Is a little disappointed at Ruby’s level headedness, but is fine with helping non-berserk Ruby beat the ever-loving shit out of Cinder.

And yes, she manages to communicate all of this without speaking a word.

Cinder goes all out but so do Ruby and Neo.

Fire vs White fire with illusion bullshit.

Cinder’s grimm arm is an even greater liability than the last fight due to Ruby’s growing skill with the white fire.

Still a very dangerous opponent.

Neo gets her shit kicked in, but due to her help, Cinder is weakened.

Ruby gains a close victory.

Now comes the moment of truth.

Cinder cowers away as Ruby approaches with the scythe raised.

Neo is enjoying what she’s seeing.

Ruby cuts off the grimm arm, burning it afterwards, and cauterizes Cinder’s stump.

Neo feels gypped but shuts up (ha) when Ruby glares at her.

Says that the both of them are under arrest, but she’ll say something nice about Neo helping.

Neo is both annoyed and not willing to argue with the girl who can shoot white fire out of her eyes.

Emerald uses Willow as hostage, seemingly kills her (hallucination).

Weiss awakens her second semblance. Summoning. Summons the knight from the white trailer.

Kicks the ever-loving crap out of Emerald who then reveals that it was just her semblance and Willow is just unconscious.

Weiss still punches her and knocks her out.

Speaking of punches, Yang overpowers Mercury and knocks him out too.

Team CEMN is down like Frazier.

The bomb’s defused too.

Everyone’s proud of Ruby for resisting the urge to do brutal murder. ‘Cept Neo, that is.

Oh wait, the war is still happening.

Oh wait, no it isn’t.

SDC and White Fang stand down.

Willow and Ilia assumed command of their respective organizations, exposing all the accelerationist false-flags, and the fact that both sides were being led by members of the same Cabal.

Both sides de-escalated, stopped fighting, and detained their respective leaders to make them sit down to peace talks.

Ciel even manages to convince Ironwood to not have all of both sides lined up against a wall and shot.

Blake and Weiss give speech about togetherness and neighborliness and sunshine and you get the idea.

Jacques and Sienna both agree that ‘yeah, we could have handled all of this better, huh?’ and accept jail time while people try to fix relations that they came very close to permanently ruining.

They would have both gone to jail anyway but it sounds better to say that they ‘accepted’ the penalties.

CEMN is now also in custody. (This is seen by a motherfucker that looks like a black armored Myrmidon).

Ironwood officially crosses the Rubicon (RWBYcon, A-hey~) and deposes the corrupt fuckwits in the Atlas government and puts himself in charge as military governor.

Makes a point to emphasize to Ozpin that his position is very much temporary.

He’ll set up a new government after they’ve made Salem calm down for a century.

Ozpin ignores him and reminds everyone that this whole thing had shockingly little to do with Salem’s current masterplan.

They still have work to do.

But they did just finish taking out every meaningful member of The Cabal.

So for now they’ve earned a little party to blow off some steam.

Season six done.

World Travel arc done.