#NOTE; Not my first time fronting :WARNING: this is just epsilon You know the guy who has this account delta has jsut been here.

[twentythousandvolts]

hi gyus just started fronting First time ever. does anyone want to think about r.vb with me. we dont need to discuss we just need to think about it and stare at each other

[jungblue]

aphrodite in war | 01

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: comedy, fluff, angst, eventual smut / greek life, fake dating, roommates, lovers to enemies and back to lovers au

word count: 11,022

description: Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle... Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

note: here is an audio post of a beautiful song with lyrics inspired by AiW, which was written by one of my lovely readers!

→ part 02

Hostility bleeds deep. The rivers of resentment collide violently as they carve a divide so saturated in disdain between the parties involved that you don’t even need to be told that there is something more to the story. It doesn’t need to be said out loud, but is just instinctively felt.

You didn’t need to be told that the ominous house at the end of street was sketchy and should be avoided at all cost; you just knew it. You didn’t need to be told that there was bad blood between the guy and girl whose jaws suddenly stiffened as their lips transformed into a firm, straight line when they caught sight of each other at a party; you just knew it — And you most certainly didn’t need to be told that there was an absolute war brewing at the end of Greek Drive between the Tri Delts and Lambdas; you just fucking knew it.

In the beginning, their rivalry was small. It was simple antics such as egging each other’s houses or fucking around with the letters that they so proudly displayed on their lawns. But then it turned a bit more intense. Egging the houses turned into spray-painting them and fucking with the letters on their lawns turned into completely trashing each other’s lawns. It was because of this that the once harmless pranks turned infamous. Everything that happened between their houses had constantly been circulated around campus for the past two years, or at the very least among their Greek counterparts… Which was probably how the two newly inducted presidents of Delta Delta Delta and Lambda Phi Epsilon, on the very first week of their final year in college, found themselves sitting in the office of a much higher power than their own titles — The president of their university; a single word spilling past his lips that had their stomachs twisting.

“Suspension!?” They both yelled in disbelief.

It was a word no organization wanted to hear. It branded your chapters with a shame that would be painted across the local news stations and even across the country. The lines would blur, only to lump them in with those terrible hazing stories that constantly flooded the media.

“P-president Kwon,” Jungkook finally stuttered out after a moment of coming to terms with the seriousness of the situation they were being faced with. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise the very... minor pranks that go on between our houses are probably much less problematic than what you’re thinking.”

“Mr. Jeon, do you think that we would threaten something of such dramatic action without several instances of confirmed proof?” President Kwon asked in a clipped tone as he leaned forward in his chair.

You could see the way that Jungkook blanched next to you, clearly not expecting this harsh treatment from President Kwon. Lambda Phi Epsilon happened to be President Kwon’s former fraternity, so it was well known that there was a good relationship there. However, in this moment you could make out nothing except for a glaring, red warning shining off the president’s ice-cold eyes.  

“I — no, sir,” Jungkook whispered, dropping his head slightly to hide the sudden flush of red that was rushing to his face.

“It is more embarrassing than I can possibly describe to the two of you, receiving dozens upon dozens of phone calls and emails over the incidents involving your organizations. Garbage littering every inch of your front yards, obscene images drawn onto your houses, several instances of animal control having to be called due to rodents being set free in the house as a… as a prank? All of this is happening while visits from prospective students and their parents are being conducted. Donors who help this school are wandering the campus and seeing it. Tell me, did the incidents I just mentioned not actually transpire, Mr. Jeon? Ms. Y/L/N?”

The air was so stiff that you barely managed a shaky inhale in order to respond to the juvenile antics being laid out before you. “No, th-they did transpire, sir. And I don’t know what to say besides that I’m so, so sorry that we’ve embarrassed the university this way.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, President Kwon’s relentless glare of disappointment cutting you through and through.

“Yes, so completely sorry,” Jungkook added.

Nothing was said for a few moments after that. It seemed President Kwon wanted to make the two of you squirm for everything that you had done, and it was definitely working. Every movement made you feel self-conscious, the judgement permeating the office air felt as if it were sticking to your skin.

“I know that what we’ve done is completely unacceptable, President Kwon,” You began, not being able to take the silence anymore. “But I promise if you give us just one more chance, we’ll clean up our acts. No more pranks, just cordial neighbors. As the new presidents of our chapters this year, we’ll make sure the members understand that this behavior isn’t something that will be tolerated anymore.”

Jungkook was nodding his head next to you in agreeance. But once again the room was plunged into silence. It was honestly torture, sitting there under such scrutiny as someone held something so dear to you in the palm of their hand. It would break your heart if the suspension actually went through… Considering it was yours and Jungkook’s fault that tensions had gotten to where they were in the first place. The bad blood between the two of you had seeped into the minds of your members as well, which was ultimately how it got so ugly. But it had gotten especially bad this year now that you were the respective presidents of each of your houses and had allowed things to escalate further. Harsh feelings between two people couldn’t do much damage, but when it was dozens versus dozens, well that was when things got messy.

Eventually though you found yourself being pulled back to reality. President Kwon cleared his throat, the sound making your heart stutter in your chest as you prepared yourself for the worst.

“You’re exactly right. It won’t be tolerated any longer.” He paused for a moment, probably for the added effect of letting anxiety seize its way around your lungs. “Probation for the next three months. One more incident and it’s over. Do you understand?”

At that there was a simultaneous sigh of relief from you and Jungkook as the looming consequence faded… At least for now.

“Thank you so much, President Kwon.” Jungkook stood from his chair, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “I promise we won’t mess this up.”

You lifted yourself up from your chair as well, following his lead. “Yes, we promise.”

“I hope that’s true,” Is all President Kwon responded with as he led the two of you towards the door of his office. “Take care.”

With rather mumbled and rushed goodbyes you exited his office, the two of you shuffling quickly down the hallway until you were sure you were out of earshot. Both of you stopped as you turned the corner, insults already resting on the tips of your tongues.

“This is all your fucking fault!” You yelled in a hushed whisper.

“My fault!?” He whispered back, equally as intense. “You’re the one who started this shit, Y/N. No one would even be fighting if you hadn’t opened your mouth to your friends.”

“I was just venting to them! I had no idea that they would go and actually do something about it. And it was a harmless prank. They planted fucking flowers in front of your house for god’s sake, and your loser friends retaliated by digging holes in our yard. You guys are the ones who escalated it, and now it’s this out of control thing that’s going to get our chapters suspended!” Your chest was rising and falling, anger boiling inside of your blood. You had never even partaken in any of the antics that had gone on between the two houses nor had you baited any of your members into participating.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, tongue pressing at the inside of his cheek. “You know what? It’s whatever. We’ve been arguing about this for two years now, so I’m not expecting you to be reasonable any time soon.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, the painful reminder of how long this had been going on searing a deep cut across your chest. But it was like Jungkook had said, this had been going on for a long time and there was no point in arguing about who was right, because it wasn’t as if it actually mattered. So instead, you just didn’t respond. You stared at him for a moment, sneer fading into this sad downward turn of your lips. And surprisingly you watched the way his expression softened as well. His brows were furrowing a little less, his jaw not as hard and brooding.

You gave him a tiny nod before you turned away and headed towards the exit. It was a few seconds before you heard his footsteps start to follow you. Every time his sneakers would squeak against the linoleum floor behind you, it felt like this tiny pressure was beginning to build at the base of your throat. You weren’t sure why you still got these feelings of… longing, even after all of this passed time. It was pathetic. Jungkook apparently didn’t long for anything from back then, so why did you?

Eventually you were able to breathe a little clearer once you pushed your way through the exit and away from the tight and tense space of faculty meetings and suspension threats. The fresh air filled your rattled lungs — too bad it was murky and humid beneath the gray storm clouds that were currently drowning the campus in a depressing drizzle.

“Goddammit,” You muttered beneath your breath.

You didn’t drive here since this building had been so close to your last class of the day. The Tri Delt house was about a ten minute walk from here, so it looked like you needed to get going before the light sprinkle of rain turned into a thunderstorm. You were about to step out from underneath the overhead of the roof and down the steps when you felt a light tug of someone pulling at the back of the belt loop on your jeans. 

“Do you need a ride?” Jungkook asked before you had even turned around to fully face him. His expression was neutral. It didn’t seem annoyed or concerned, but he had always been good at hiding his emotions like that.  

Of course you didn’t want to walk home in the rain, but sitting in a confined space with Jungkook after you’d both just gotten done yelling at one another didn’t seem like the greatest time either. But in the end, you decided that a few minutes wouldn’t kill you. “Yeah, I guess,” You whispered, motioning for him to go ahead so you could follow. His car was parked in one of the first spots at the bottom of the steps. You were both silent as you opened the doors and climbed inside.

It was weird. You hadn’t been in Jungkook’s car in years. You watched him pull out of the parking space, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning against the center console. It felt all too familiar. You blew a heady sigh past your lips, hands wringing in your lap. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed, the tension between you and him never seemed to lessen. It was a constant, palpable stiffness in the air.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get them to stop fighting?” Jungkook finally asked once they turned onto Greek Drive, giving some mild relief to the strain that the two of you were so highly aware of.

“If suspension doesn’t do it, then I honestly don’t know what would.”

He nodded, seeming to agree. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll cut it out.”

“Yeah, they can’t be that dumb—” However, your words seemed to disintegrate along your tongue as the car approached the Lambda and Tri Delt houses that stood side by side.

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook muttered, pulling into the driveway which currently had a Lambda named Jimin running down it towards his truck that was completely covered in saran-wrap and a laughing Tri Delt named Joy who was holding said saran-wrap.

“Get back here and take this shit off my truck right now!” You heard Jimin yell.

“Nope, I’m good.” She smiled, shrugging and taunting him as she jogged away.

“This… This might be harder than we thought,” You said.

Jungkook rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes closed. “Yeah, way fucking harder.”

---------

It was several mass group texts later, demanding that every Lambda and Tri Delt come to their houses immediately, that all forty-two members of the combined organizations who actually lived in-house finally arrived… Yeah, there was no way that this could go terribly wrong or anything… Right?

You and Jungkook stood in front of the members as they gathered on the grassy area that separated your two houses. As expected there were dozens of mumbled conversations transpiring, all speculating on what the hell was going on here. You looked to Jungkook, giving him a nod to tell him that they should start.

He cleared his throat, clapping his hands together, resulting in large boom that got everyone’s attention. “All right, listen up. We have something important we need to discuss.”

“Jungkook, why the hell are the Tri Delts here?” A Lambda named Yuta yelled out.

“Because we can be, asshole.” It was Jennie.

“Who’re you calling an asshole?” Taehyung asked, even though he had nothing to do with it.

“Your dickhead friend,” Sana responded, again even though it had nothing to do with her.

And then Chanyeol chimed in, followed by Momo, which then got escalated by Johnny and continued by Dahyun. After that you lost track of who was arguing because it just became a giant clusterfuck of people yelling and this was the perfect example of how this entire war started — people getting involved in the business of others that didn’t even concern them.

You started rubbing at your temples, fingernails digging into your palms. This was enough. “Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, a loud echo that reverberated through the air and hushed everyone into silence. “This is why you’re all here.” You motioned towards them.

“What do you mean?” Someone asked from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Me and Y/N had a meeting with President Kwon today,” Jungkook paused, releasing a deep sigh before continuing. “He said that if we all keep publicly fighting the way we have been… that our chapters will get suspended.” 

There was a small pause, as if it didn’t immediately click with everyone what had been said — and then the panic set in. 

“What?!”

“No fucking way!”

“He can’t be serious!”

“That’s bullshit!” 

“This is just another prank, right?!” 

Having forty-two people publicly shouting expletives, wasn’t the best start to this image reset that President Kwon wanted, but there was no way either of the chapters would have been okay with the other house coming into their own, so this little outdoor set-up was the best option they had. 

You and Jungkook sort of just stood there for a moment, letting the members get their gut-reactions out. Then he turned to you, motioning towards the mob of angry Greek lifers. “You were always better at yelling than me. You wanna quiet them down?” He smirked, a jab that had you clenching your teeth. 

“Great way to start off this so called peace treaty, but sure, I’ll gladly calm them down and get straight to the point. I wouldn’t want to let them drown in their own heads without knowing what’s going on because someone won’t just be upfront.” You stared him straight in the eyes, making sure he got your double meaning since he wanted to play dirty and bring up the past. He simply clenched his jaw and averted his gaze back to the crowd of hysterics laid out before them. 

“Quiet down and we’ll explain.” You yelled as loud as you could, hoping it would reach everyone so that the chatter would die down quickly. Luckily it seemed they were all on the verge of a mental breakdown and needed answers, so the volume was almost instantly brought down to a hush. All eyes were now on you. “To make things simple, President Kwon thinks that our little prank war or whatever the hell you want to call it, has brought too much negative attention to the school. Visiting students and their parents, donors, and apparently a lot of other people have noticed all of the antics that we pull on each other, and they don’t like it.” You paused, gauging the reactions, but everyone was just frozen in place, waiting for more details. “He put both of our houses on three months of probation and said that if we don’t clean up our acts and stop with all of this petty bullshit that he would suspend our chapters. So, really it’s that easy. We just have to let this feud die down...” You paused, not wanting to say what you were going to say next, but you thought that it would be the best way to diffuse the situation. “And I know that it was the venting of my personal feelings that started this entire thing, so I wanted to say… I’m sorry for causing it.” You didn’t look towards Jungkook, but you could feel his stare burning into the side of your face. You didn’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see the smugness or whatever the hell he was feeling towards this forced public apology. You were about to continue, but before you could, a high-pitched voice cut in. 

“No, why are you apologizing?” Sana said, stepping past the front lines of the two groups. “It is not your fault.” She shot a glare towards Jungkook who simply rolled his eyes and kept his stare straight ahead. 

Then it was Jennie pushing to the front to join in on your defense. “She’s right, Y/N. It’s not your fault. We’re the ones who planted the flowers as a joke. Even though it was a harmless joke,” She turned towards the Lambda boys, venom coating her words, “that made their trashy house look a little bit nicer. Yet, they had to escalate it into something else.”

Oh, this was not good.

Jimin broke through the front line for the Lambdas, a scowl etched across his face. “It’s not the issue of what you did. It’s the fact that back then you blindly fucked with the house that all of the guys lived in, not only Jungkook, just because of Y/N being upset over their relationship — which, he did nothing wrong since you wanna start glaring at people for no fucking reason Sana.” 

It was this violent concoction of anger and sadness colliding inside of your stomach that had you simultaneously fighting back the urge to bite off Jimin’s head or crying pathetically in front of everyone. 

Multiple people were stepping to the front of their groups now, various arguments splintering off as people began defending the heads of their respective houses. Y/N this, Jungkook that. You stared at the second story of the Tri Delt house, focusing in on the bedroom window all the way to the right (your bedroom), so that your hearing would blur out. You didn’t want to listen to these arguments any more, but you also didn’t have the energy to both somehow defend yourself while also admitting that Jungkook’s feelings from back then were also valid. So you stood there, eyes glazing over at the sight of the room where this entire feud spawned from. Though, maybe that wasn’t exactly correct. According to Jungkook it had started in no particular place and at no particular time that he could actually pinpoint. That was just the place where it had all finally been verbalized. 

You weren’t sure how long you zoned out for, just reminiscing on the conversation from that night, but it was Jungkook’s voice thundering through the air that halted everyone’s arguments once again, along with your torturous thoughts. 

“All of you just fucking stop!” He yelled. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is or how it started. If we keep doing this we’re gonna get our chapters suspended. Do you guys want that?” There was an awkward moment of silence where everyone was just sort of looking around at one another before the members finally grumbled a unanimous ‘no.’ “Okay, so then you guys are just gonna have to get over this bullshit, just like how me and Y/N are,” Jungkook paused, one brow arched as he turned to face you. “Right?”

You felt your face heat up as you clamped your teeth down onto the inside of your cheek. “…Right.”

“Good.” Jungkook smiled, seeming very happy with himself for getting that out of you — smug asshole. He turned back to face all of the members, clapping his hands together before saying something that caused the entire group to erupt into hysterics. “Now, apologize to each other.”

“Fuck that!” Someone screeched from the back. “Baek let the air out of my tires last year. I was late for my final.” 

“Because you put a pair of panties in my car and my girlfriend thought I was cheating on her!” 

“You probably were!”

Everyone was screaming and calling out various incidents, saying there was no way in hell they were ever going to apologize. 

“Fine! Fucking fine!” Jungkook cut in immediately before it could devolve again. “How about if me and Y/N just apologize to each other and it’ll count for the rest of you? And then this war is dead. Sound fair?” 

No one said anything concrete in response, just unintelligible grumbles rippling through the crowd. Jungkook apparently took this as an okay, because he was suddenly turning toward you. “Alright, you go first.” 

You scoffed. “I’m not apologizing first. It wasn’t even my idea. Besides I already apologized to everyone earlier.”

“It wasn’t an apology to me though.” 

“I don’t think I owe you an apology.” You shrugged. “I apologized for my friends fucking with your house. What else do I need to apologize for?” 

He just looked at you, with those eyes that were unreadable. Though you could see a slight shift, as though there truly was something that he wanted you to apologize for from back then, but he could tell that you weren’t going to back down, so he went for something that cut deep as punishment. 

He huffed in annoyance. “Fine, if you wanna be like that. I’m sorry that I broke up with you, Y/N.”

Your entire body flared with anger that had a pool of sweat instantly swelling at your hairline. You stepped closer to him, only a foot of space between you, but he didn’t back down and you weren’t going to either. “And I’m sorry I wasted three years of my life with a lying, cheating piece of shit!” 

His eyes went wide. The word that never failed to strike a nerve whenever this argument was brought back under the light. His response was quiet but firm, everyone, all forty-two members watching in silence. “I never cheated on you, but if you want to think that just so I can be the bad guy in your head, fine.” 

His final word felt like a sharp cut across your chest, but you stood firm, not backing down. You didn’t break eye contact with him as you voiced your final sentiment to the two groups of warring Greeks. “I don’t care whose side you guys fall on when it comes to this overblown drama between me and Jungkook. The fighting, the pranks, all of it, it’s over.” 

“Agreed.” Jungkook bit out before turning and walking towards the Lambda house, a silent command for his Brothers to do the same. 

You didn’t stand there for a single second longer and began walking toward your own house, your fellow Sisters following. Your best friends, Sana and Jennie, instantly threw their arms around your shoulders. “Vodka?” The universal distraction from all things awful in life. 

You shook your head. “Tequila.” The universal eraser to all things awful in life. “Lots of tequila.”

 ——-

“He’s lucky that we’re in a truce now or I would’ve thought up something diabolical for his arrogant ass,” Jennie said as she dusted some blush on her cheeks. 

“I know right, ugh!” Sana made a disgusted sound as she handed you the necklace she was letting you borrow for the night. “Telling you to apologize first. Like fuck you. You haven’t even done anything.”

You simply sighed, jumping to get your jeans past your thighs. “It’s fine guys. As long as no more issues pop up we can just ignore them and act like none of this ever happened.” 

“I know, I know, but it just pisses me off that they always bring your name into the argument. Like you didn’t tell us to go and mess with them. We did it ourselves, and sure, looking back on it now we shouldn’t have done it — even though they were some nice fucking flowers — but regardless, they pushed it to another level.” Sana let out a final huff as she hopefully released the last of her ranting for the night. 

“The point of the tequila,” You said as you filled three shot glasses, several wedges of lime waiting beside them, “Is to forget the problems. Not continue thinking about them.” 

Sana snapped her fingers and pointed at you with a smile as she picked up her shot. “You know what, you’re right. Fuck the Lambdas. They no longer exist. In my head we live next to a vacant patch of grass.” 

“Exactly.” Jennie picked up her glass, leaving the final one for you. “Cheers to no longer having to deal with the house that must not be named.”

The three of you let out a little cheer before clinking your glasses together and forcing your bodies through the post-shot shivers that followed. 

After the front yard meeting fiasco you knew immediately you would be going out. However, it had still been quite early, so you, Sana, and Jennie decided to indulge in several glasses of wine to bide the time before it was late enough to feel like an appropriate time to be downing shots. Tequila at six in the afternoon, even on a Friday, just didn’t feel right, so alcohol juice it had been. Though, the warm feeling that was already radiating through your legs as you walked over to the mirror to do one last once over of your outfit indicated that the so called alcohol juice had done its job as the pre-game to the actual hard liquor pre-game a little too well. 

“Okay, I’m only opting for one more round while we’re here or else we will be having a repeat of St. Patrick’s Day.” Too many green beers that day. Too many. 

“Senior year wisdom.” Jennie placed her hand over her heart. “Our freshman year brains would never.” 

“Our freshman year brains didn’t have an aversion to six different types of alcohol yet.” You laughed as you motioned to take the next round of shots. “And I would like to still be able to look at a bottle of tequila without going into a full-body sweat after tonight, so we’re pacing ourselves.” 

“Oh, Fireball. The days when I could still drink you were so simple.” Sana grabbed her face and grimaced as if Fireball was a long lost god, while you audibly gagged from the name of the cinnamon flavored whiskey alone. 

“Sana, stop. You know Y/N can’t even look at a churro anymore without looking like she’s gonna yak everywhere like a dog.” 

I faked a sniffle. “God, I miss being able to eat churros.” Cinnamon was now inedible to you thanks to your now forever connection between the delectable spice and the previously mentioned unspeakable liquor. A break up that rivaled that of yours and Jungkook’s. 

“Uber’s gonna be here in three minutes,” Jennie said as she returned to your bedside table to grab her shot glass once again. 

The three of you raised your glasses together with a clink. “Let’s fuck it up.” 

——----

The bar right next to your college, simply referred to as “Pub,” was a weird place to be on the first Friday of the new semester. It was a mix of underage freshman trying to slyly sip at their alcohol while attempting to hide the X’s marked on their hands, and of age students that felt a little too old to be at Pub, but who could argue with free drinks for girls until midnight? Definitely not you, Sana, or Jennie. 

The three of you found your temporary home at the tables on the deck right outside of the entrance, the fresh air much preferable to the stuffy atmosphere of the dance floor that you would soon find yourself on given the right song choice to send you flying through the door. 

You watched as Sana shimmied through the crowd of people to return to your table, three tiny plastic cups in hand. “You get a vodka Sprite, you get a vodka Sprite, and I get a vodka Sprite!” She yelled as she set the cups down on the table. 

You laughed. “People may call that basic, but we still get drunk and don’t have to drink Jack and fucking Coke.”

“The Devil’s combo.” Jennie sipped her drink. “You see a guy drinking that: run. He thinks he’s so fucking cool.” 

Sana raised her plastic cup. “Cheers to the truth.” 

“Cheers,” You all agreed collectively. 

“But speaking of guys who don’t drink Jack and Coke, I ran into Namjoon when I went to the bathroom a minute ago.” A blush crept across Jennie’s cheeks. 

“Are you finally gonna see if he’s interested? He’s not your TA anymore, so it’s not sketchy.” 

Jennie shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird. He seems so uninterested that it’s intimidating. Like I’ve imagined thirty-seven different scenarios for our first date and he’s only like ‘Hi, Jennie. Bye, Jennie.” 

You and Sana couldn’t help but laugh, however, the amusement was cut short by a decently sized group of familiar males. 

“Fuck me,” You said under your breath, which was enough for Jennie to turn around and see the pack of Lambda boys climbing the wooden steps onto the deck of the bar, Jungkook leading the way. 

“You try to forget your problems and they just walk in on two legs.” Sana groaned. “It’s rude really.” 

The group got caught in the line to get into the bar, which unfortunately left them idling uncomfortably close to your table, and of course something had to be said. 

Jimin glanced down at them sitting, a fake grin plastered to his mouth. “If it isn’t our cordial neighbors.” 

Jennie snapped her head up to look at him, mirroring his forced smile. “Cordial can also mean that we’re pretending you don’t exist. In fact, we no longer acknowledge that we even have neighbors.” 

“That’s fantastic, actually. It means I can forget that awful blowjob you gave me freshman year even happened.” 

Jennie’s jaw clenched for all of a millisecond before responding. “Awful? Say that to my untouched vagina after you came in sixty seconds. Though again, we’re pretending you don’t exist, so I guess I can forget the most underwhelming sexual experience of my life. Thanks, Jimin.” She turned back to you and Sana, not sparing a second glance as if she’d simply given someone directions to the nearest Denny’s. 

But Jimin wasn’t through. “That’s not what happened—”

You could see in your friend’s face she was already squaring up another jab, and as much as you found it entertaining you knew it was setting a bad example. 

“Jennie,” You said at the same time that Jungkook sighed “Jimin.”

You both looked at each other, a silent message of gratefulness passing between the two of you at trying to actually make this work. 

“Guys, neither of us want to get our chapters suspended. If ignoring each other is the best route, do that, or maybe even be friends. Whatever results in no fuckery between our houses, okay?” You reminded them of what was at stake here and everyone nodded, letting any planned animosity fall away as the line to get into the bar began to move. 

You tilted your head, watching as Jungkook’s back disappeared into the building, his eyes crinkling as he smiled brightly at some girl who noticed him the second he made it past the threshold. 

Again, that stupid feeling of longing for something that was clearly dead and gone. But you didn’t want to get too down, so before you could spiral too far you turned back towards your friends. “So did he really last sixty seconds?” 

“No,” Jennie smiled, “But I definitely still have the texts of him telling me the next day it was the best suck of his life. He’s the one that lied first, so I get to bend the truth too.”

“Freshman year is so weird to think about. Everyone was actually friendly. Jennie and Jimin might be dating right now if it wasn’t for our little war.” Sana laughed as she batted the napkin away that Jennie tossed at her. 

“Absolutely not. I want someone like Namjoon, who’s smart and respectful. Not Jimin, who… who…” She trailed off simply finishing her thought with a wordless grimace. 

Jennie said that, but you knew it wasn’t exactly true. You remembered very well when Jennie and Jimin were involved and she actually seemed to enjoy the Lambda’s presence quite a bit. But then things went to shit the summer after your freshman year was over, and well, this was the reality now. Snide comments at every passing instead of mutual invites to beach days. 

You were beginning to let a little slideshow of memories from that first year cloud your head when a song that already had you lifting out of your chair clamored inside the bar. “We dance till dawn!” You pulled your friends by their arms through the entrance, waving your wristbands at the bouncer before pushing your way to the middle of the dance floor. 

“Drinks!” Jennie beamed, remembering that they had finished the others outside. “I’ll be back!” She yelled over the music, pointing towards the bar. 

You and Sana gave her a thumbs up as you began to dance together, singing the lyrics so loud your throats would certainly punish you by night’s end. But you didn’t care. Today had been absolutely disastrous, ripping up old wounds that you wished would just stay permanently beneath their flimsy bandaid, so you were thankful for this music that was blaring so loud that thoughts weren’t even an option, the alcohol that was so potent you could barely remember Jungkook’s smug face from the house meeting today, and your friends that allowed you to be this happy on days this bad. 

A few songs passed and you and Sana were still dancing and getting so hyped up by every new spin that it took you a second to remember that Jennie definitely should’ve been back by now. You looked around, only to find a sight that made you let out a slight scream that was completely concealed by the music. You tapped Sana and began pointing towards the bar. She turned and immediately mirrored your excitement. 

Namjoon was leaning into Jennie at the bar, whispering something into her ear and you could see her smiling, redness once again blooming on her face. In your drunkenness you pulled out your phone and snapped severa blurry pictures, which were sure to be a great topic of discussion in the group chat tomorrow. You watched Jennie nod her head, smiling and pointing to the three drinks in her hand, and then she started back towards where you were. 

“Bitch, the drinks could’ve waited!” You tried to say over the music. “Go back and talk to him.” 

Jennie actually looked giddy as she handed over the drinks to you and Sana. “I am. He’s leaving soon though, but he asked if I wanted to grab something to eat with him at the diner down the street.” 

Sana jumped up and down in excitement. “So he basically asked you to marry him? Got it.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s totally gonna propose to me over my omelette.” She joked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Are you guys okay if I go?” 

“Of course, but I will be checking your location in fifteen minutes and if you are not at that diner I will hunt Namjoon’s ass down in two seconds,” You warned. “—Except if you decide you wanna skip the diner and go straight to fucking that’s cool too, just let us know.” 

Jennie threw out another giddy expression at the thought. “I’ll text you guys. Love you!” She said,  kissing her hand and throwing it out to you as she weaved back towards where Namjoon was waiting for her at the bar. 

“Fuck Disney,” You shouted to Sana. “Dreams come true at Pub too.”

She bent over, laughing as she tried to sip her drink. “Ugh, if only we could be that lucky. I’ve never had a TA even close to that hot.”

“Same, but maybe we’ll find something else tonight.” You motioned toward the back where you could see some of the soccer players hanging out. You eyed Jung Hoseok. The two of you had hooked up a few times last year, and getting laid would be a perfect ending to this bad to actually decent day. 

“Oh, I see.” Sana wiggled her brows, giving a knowing look. “Let’s go bump into them.” She grabbed your hand and began leading you through the crowd until you reached the area that the soccer players were idly standing around and sipping their drinks. You started a conversation about something random right behind Hoseok, and it was only a minute or so before he turned around and noticed the two of you. 

“Oh, look who it is.” He smiled, hugging you. “Been a while.” 

“I know your summer must’ve been so dull without me,” You flirted, sipping at your drink. 

“No question.” He leaned back against the wall, pulling you by the waist so you weren’t halfway on the dance floor and constantly being bumped into. Sana noticed the gesture and took that as her cue to let things simmer between you and Hoseok. 

“Y/N, I see Nayeon and Joy over there.” She pointed towards the other corner of the bar, where you saw the two Tri Delts mingling. “I’m gonna go over there, okay?” 

“Sounds good.” 

She leaned into your ear, whispering, “If you wanna go home with him just text me. I’ll catch a ride with them on the way back to the house.” 

“I’m ninety-five percent sure I will, but I’ll text you to make sure,” You whispered back. 

She squeezed your shoulder before pulling back. “Take care of her Jung. I’ve heard you’re very good at that.” Sana smiled like a tiny devil before running through the crowd, leaving you slightly slack-jawed. 

You bit your lip, a small warmth creeping into our face. “Please, ignore that,” You bit through an awkward laugh. 

“Why’re you embarrassed?” He smiled, shrugging before leaning next to your ear. “I mean I have taken care of you every single time we’ve been together, right?” 

His breath was hot against the side of your face, leaving you tingling. You lifted your hand, cupping his jaw as you pulled him back to look him in the face. “You can’t say things like that to me when we’re in a bar and you can’t do anything about it.” 

He smiled, eyes drifting to your mouth. “I mean we could always leave. It’s almost closing time anyways.” 

You smiled. “One more drink, after I finish this one.” 

“Perfect.” He leaned in, gave you a small peck on the lips before ruffling your hair a little and turning to say something to his friend. Presumably it was something about him getting laid tonight, which was exactly the same conversation you were about to have with your friend. 

You: the hookup is secure 

Sana: quick work. i’m proud 

Sana: joy and nayeon said that lisa is sick in the bathroom and they’re about to take her back to the house, so i was just going to catch a ride with them if you’re going with hoseok. sound good? 

You: oh really? i hope she’s okay. make sure she gets water at home. and yes i’ll be fine. we were gonna have one last drink and then go. i’ll text you when i make it to his place

Sana: sounds good. love you!

You slipped your phone back into your pocket after returning the sentiment. 

“Everything good?” Hoseok asked. 

“Yeah, one of our friends is sick so Sana was just letting me know she was gonna go home with her.” 

“Damn,” Hoseok tsked, jokingly.  “Does that mean I’m stuck with you for the night?” 

“It would seem so.” You smiled, and then he pulled you beneath his arm and adjusted the backwards cap on his head. 

“You know, I’m all for just fucking or whatever, but you’re really never gonna say yes to a date, are you?” 

You paused before answering, remembering that time last year that he’d asked about actually taking you out to dinner. You had thought about it, but in the end you just decided you had no desire to even slightly pivot in the direction of being any more than friends with benefits with someone. Though, if anyone were able to sway you away from that mindset after Jungkook, it would be Hoseok, but just not yet.

“If I let you take me to Steak n’ Shake after this, will that suffice?” You giggled at the way he rolled his eyes while still smiling. 

“I have leftovers in my fridge better than the food from there, so I’ll let you have that.” He paused, a slight glimmer filling his eyes. “Maybe I’ll light a candle, make it romantic, sort of like a date.” 

Your skin prickled slightly at the mention of the candle, a call back to one of their more… unconventional hook ups from last year.

“Is candle wax being melted onto my naked body and drunkenness really a good mix?” You asked, even though it had been one of the best feelings you had ever experienced. 

“Not that drunk, but it could always wait until the morning.” 

You tapped your finger to your lips as if you were pondering it. “Let me get my last drink and I’ll let you know my answer.” 

“I have a tab open.” He motioned towards the bar. “Just get it on mine.” 

“Thanks,” You said, even though you planned to pay for it yourself. Random guys you didn’t mind hustling a few free drinks from, but not guys you were actually sort of friends with. 

You walked up to the bartender. “Vodka Sprite,” You said over the thumping music. He nodded and then stepped to the left and made your drink. He handed it to you as you slipped him your credit card, motioning to close the tab out. 

You were already halfway done with sipping on the drink when the bartender returned a slight look of awkwardness on his face. “Uh, it declined.” 

Your brows furrowed. Your financial aid refund for school had definitely been deposited into your bank account. You knew this because you had jumped for joy when it hit and you were finally able to return to the sanctuary that is no-ads Hulu. There was enough to cover your dues for staying in the Tri Delt house this semester, so there should certainly have been enough to cover a four dollar drink. You were pondering what to do, maybe just put it on Hoseok’s tab like he said you could. It was probably just your actual bank having issues and it would sort itself out in the morning anyways. You were just about to say to put it on his tab when someone slid their muscled bicep right in front of your face with a credit card in hand. 

You knew that it was pathetic that you knew exactly who that bicep belonged to before he even turned to look at your face, black strands of hair hanging over his forehead.

“I got it,” Jungkook said to the bartender. 

“Why’d you do that?” You asked. 

“Because I was right behind you and heard him, and I know how embarrassed you get about things like that.” He shrugged, grabbing the paper and pen that the bartender slid back towards him. 

He was right. You had terrible secondhand embarrassment, let alone actual first hand embarrassment. “Well… thanks. I don’t know why it did that. I got my refund already.” 

“Just check your bank account. If the money’s in there then the bank system is probably just fucked up right now.” 

“Yeah…” You slid your phone out of your pocket and immediately went to your banking app and pressed your fingerprint down onto the login. You waited a few seconds, and when your balance appeared on the screen, you felt your heart drop. “What in the actual fuck?” You said, staring at your bank account with a whopping dollar and twenty cent in it. 

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowed as he rounded to your side to look at your screen to see the low number that was not at all what it was yesterday. “I thought you said you got your refund?” 

You were shaking your head. “I… I did. I don’t know what the hell happened. Oh my god, I’m gonna freak the fuck out. I have to pay my housing cost for Tri-Delt with that money. Like what the fuck is going on—”

You felt Jungkook’s on your back, rubbing light circles. “Just breathe.” You stiffened at the touch, but didn’t try to pull away. “It’s probably just a financial aid fuck up. Call them tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

You knew that he was probably right, but a creeping feeling was telling you otherwise. This was your fourth year in college dealing with the same exact scholarships every single semester and this had never happened before. 

“Fuck.” You brought your hands up to push at either of your temples. “That really just fucked up my whole mood. I’m not even horny anymore—” You cringed, realizing what you just said. “Please, just ignore me I’m drunk.” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression he’d made at your admission. 

“What’re you doing now? Where’s Sana and Jennie?” He asked, ignoring your flub and finally lowering his hand from your back. 

“They’re not here. Jennie left earlier and I told Sana I was gonna go home with… Hoseok, but now I just wanna go lay in bed by myself so I can spiral into every negative possibility of why my bank account looks like that.” 

“It’s gonna be fine.” This time he placed his hand on the back of your neck, cupping it slightly. It was a motion that had always for some reason calmed you down when things got overwhelming. It seemed he remembered. But even though you appreciated the comfort, the feeling of his hand there made something in your stomach flutter — that stupid feeling of longing seriously needed it’s wings shredded. You gripped his forearm, pulling it away from you, and you saw something shift in his eyes as you did so. 

“I guess I’m gonna go tell Hoseok that I’m just gonna go home—” But then you suddenly remembered something. “Fuck! I can’t Uber because I don’t have any money on my card.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This day was so bad and then actually pretty good, only to turn out fucking awful.” 

There was a couple of seconds of silence between the two of you, but you kept your eyes closed, trying to clear the fog in your head from all the alcohol to figure out what you were going to do. However, Jungkook finally let out a sigh before speaking. “Come on.”

“What?” You asked.

“All of these people are trying to get out of here at once and they’re ordering Uber’s at the same time.” He flashed his phone screen, showing that it was not only almost closing time, but that the next driver wouldn’t be available for thirty-two minutes with everyone having already ordered their rides. “It’s a twenty minute walk back to your house. I’ll just walk you there.” 

Even though Jungkook was currently the president of the Lambdas, he actually decided not to live in the frat house this year and instead opted for a cheaper apartment that was still near campus. You and Jungkook both relied on scholarships to pay for most of your schooling,  and fraternity and sorority dues on their own were not cheap, and living on Greek Drive only made that burden a million times worse. 

But the point was that Jungkook had no need to go to campus because he lived in a completely different direction now.

“You don’t even live there anymore. How’re you gonna get home?” You asked. 

“I’ll just sleep on the couch and get Tae or Jimin to drive me to my place in the morning.” He shrugged. 

You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of having to walk all the way back to campus with Jungkook,  considering just a five minute car ride earlier in the day had been sufficiently awkward all on its own. But you also were unfortunately no longer in the mood for sex, leaving Hoseok’s house out of the picture, and your bank account was for some reason drained, which resulted in you only having one option really. 

“Alright,” You finally said. “Just let me tell Hoseok and then we can go.” 

He nodded as you walked back towards the group of soccer players, tapping Hoseok on the shoulder. It seemed your dismay was painted plainly on your face because he immediately asked what was wrong. 

“I actually can’t hang out tonight. I just found out my bank account is fucked up and I can’t really think about anything else right now, so I was just gonna head home, but I wanted to let you know. I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re fine,” He said, shaking his head. “Do you have a way home then?” 

You glanced towards Jungkook, releasing a heavy sigh. “Uhm, yeah, Jungkook was gonna walk me.” 

Hoseok’s eyes darted toward where you pointing, narrowing slightly. Most people knew about the feud between the Lambdas and the Tri Delts, which meant most people also knew the details about why there was a feud in the first place. 

“Are you sure you’re good with that?” Hoseok asked. 

Not really, but a twenty minute walk wasn’t going to kill you. “We’re fine, promise. Actually we’ve been… cordial lately.” You tried to say it like it was actually the truth, but you thought maybe if you spoke it into existence then it would actually come to fruition. 

Hoseok tilted his head, giving you a look that said he didn’t really believe you, but regardless he pulled you in for a hug. “Okay, let me know when you get home.” 

“I will,” You assured him before waving goodbye and making your way back towards Jungkook. 

“Ready,” He huffed, a slight annoyance seeming to coat his words as he pushed himself off of the wall and started towards the entrance. 

“Are you really gonna have an attitude?” You asked as you did a little jog to catch up with him. “I would’ve found another way if I knew you were gonna act like an ass.” 

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just tired.” He placed his hand on one of your shoulders, moving you in front of him so the two of you could move through the mass of people more quickly until you were walking through the entrance and down the wooden ramp that connected to the outside deck. 

“Then why’d you offer? I could’ve called someone to pick me up.” 

“Because,” He paused, motioning towards the crosswalk that already had dozens of drunk college kids filing through it. “I couldn’t just leave you there, and I thought just taking you home would be quicker than you calling people to try and find a ride.” 

Ouch. He was just trying to be nice and you were calling him an ass. Heat flushed beneath your skin from embarrassment. “I’m sorry…” You finally said as you made it to the sidewalk and began the straight shot down the main road towards Greek Drive. “Thank you for making sure I got home alright.” You added, avoiding any eye contact and opting to walk a little bit in front of him. 

After about five entire minutes of silence you thought to yourself, yeah, this was going pretty much as expected. But you were thankful that at least there wasn’t any hostility. You didn’t want any more arguments like the ones from today.  You had seethed at each other after the two of you left President Kwon’s office. Had thrown insults at one another at the meeting between your houses. Like sure, maybe the silence hurt more than it should’ve. The idea that the guy you started dating and fell in love with when you were a junior in high school not even being able to fake a conversation with you for twenty minutes was mildly heartbreaking to say the least. But again, the silence was better than the anger that had fueled most of your interactions since breaking up the summer after starting college. 

You had become somewhat content with the lack of speaking. You were still a few steps ahead of Jungkook as he walked behind you, but he suddenly picked up speed and joined you, shoulder skating against yours before he was curving his hand around your waist and nudging you to go to the side of the sidewalk that wasn’t closest to the main road that was currently buzzing with post-bar traffic. 

“Wouldn’t want you falling face first into a Camero that someone’s Daddy bought them, Drunkie,” He said, offering a playful smile as he dropped his arm back down to his side. 

You were caught so off guard by the positive expression from Jungkook that it took you a second for your head to actually realize what he had even said. You pushed his shoulder. “I’m not even drunk anymore.”

“Well, considering I can literally smell the tequila on you, I’d rather not take any chances of you falling into oncoming traffic.” 

“You’re being nice.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Too nice.” 

“What?” He chuckled. “I’m just making an effort to try and fix things between us so that the members don’t see us constantly fighting and think it’s okay to do the same.” 

Ah, that’s what it was. He didn’t care if you guys actually patched this up, just that it looked like you did. 

“Well, we could always pretend to like each other, since the appearance is all that actually matters apparently.” You forced a smile and began walking a little bit faster. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes of being alone with him and his stupid presence that overwhelmed you with thoughts that you wished would just disappear. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He said almost immediately, not letting that unbearable plunge into silence return. “I would love it if we could be nice to each other and actually mean it… I just…” He trailed off, seeming to hesitate in whatever he was trying to say. 

“Just spit it out.” 

There was one more second of a brief pause before he spoke quietly. “I just don’t think that’s ever going to happen, because I know you still blame me for everything.” 

You tensed up, still keeping your pace of being slightly ahead of him. You inhaled a deep breath through your mouth before turning to look over your shoulder at him, his eyes already waiting to meet yours. 

“I don’t blame you.” You smiled, but with a sad furrowing of your brows. “I�� resent you.” 

Jungkook’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in surprise. “I mean, that’s… that’s even worse than blaming me.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.” 

His expression turned more puzzled. “How is you resenting me better than you blaming me?” 

“Because, blame implies that I think it’s your fault… Resentment just means I’m angry and upset, regardless of whether I think you were right or wrong for what happened.” You felt the bridge of your nose begin to tingle with that telltale sign of tears, so you quickly looked forward and urged them to stay hidden until you were at least in the comfort of your own room. “I’m just resentful of the things I now think and feel about myself, but that isn’t your fault. It’s my issue to deal with.” You shrugged. 

“What things do you think and feel about yourself?” He asked, and you could tell that he had hurried his pace and was a little closer behind you now. 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want to talk about this. The two of you hadn’t had an in depth conversation like this since you’d first broken up. But things were different now compared to that first conversation. Back then it was raw and fresh, the pain too intense to notice what was growing underneath. Now it was a scar, and you were left with all of the emotions, feelings, and implications of how and why things ended. 

“I… I don’t really wanna talk about it honestly.” You said that, but you also wanted Jungkook to understand that you were perfectly aware of how you had acted the past few years. You may have said and acted in ways that seemed bitchy and ridiculous, but it was because of these disgusting emotions that were now plaguing your mind constantly, and maybe it was time he knew. “I kind of wish we had broken up over this giant fight that was about something unfixable. Something where we both clearly did things wrong and we were both through with each other because there was no way either of us were going to change our minds. I think I could’ve dealt with that so much better than what you actually broke up with me for. Which was just the fact that you thought I was...” You trailed off, the word that bombarded your thoughts mercilessly landing on your tongue. “Boring.”

You heard the way his shoes scratched against the concrete at his screeching halt, and he clearly thought that that was going to stop you as well, but you kept going, not actually wanting to hear any response from him. You said your piece and now maybe he would understand. But of course you knew that he wasn’t just going to let it end like that, which was made apparent when you felt him suddenly gripping your arm, trying to get you to slow down for a second. 

“I never said or even thought that about you, Y/N, ever.” He tried to pull you to look at him, but you twisted your body and threw a hand over your face to cover your eyes that were already glistening. 

“No, stop,” You said firmly, and he ceased with trying to get you to look at him. “I told myself after that night in my room I was never going to let you see me cry over you ever again, and if I look at you right now, I will. I just know I will, so please just stop.” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, leaving just the sound of grasshoppers and the random gust of cars passing by. You thought maybe he would just let it go and you could continue the last few minutes of the walk without speaking, but you had verbalized your thoughts and Jungkook was without a doubt going to respond. 

“I know how it’s easy to think that,” He started, his voice a whisper with his hand still wrapped around your arm, as if he was afraid you would bolt down the street without letting him finish if he let you go. “But that’s not why I ended things. You were the first girl I ever actually dated, and when we got here I just started thinking about—”

“—All of your new exciting options.” You cut in, anger flaring before you could stop it. 

“Y/N…” He trailed off, squeezing your arm. “That’s not what it was—”

“—No,” You said before he could try and dance his way through some explanation of how he just wanted to go crazy in college without actually saying it out loud. “You don’t have to explain it again. I’d rather you didn’t actually. I remember in excruciating detail the way you explained it that night. I understand, I get it… So, p-please,” Your voice cracked, finally being too overwhelmed by this entire situation. “Let’s just keep walking and not talk about it anymore. Please.” 

It turned so quiet I could even hear how hard Jungkook was breathing. It sounded heavy but unnatural, like he was trying to forcibly steady his heartbeat. And after a few seconds you felt him finally drop his hand from your arm and you didn’t wait for him to say a single word before you started down the sidewalk again.

The Tri Delt house was five minutes away, leading to five minutes of complete and utter silence between two people that was so palpable it blocked out the scratching of your shoes as you walked and the rustle of tiny animals running through the trees next to you. It engulfed you in this tunnel of noiselessness. 

Eventually you saw the bend at the end of the street where yours and Jungkook’s houses sat next to one another. It was only a little bit away, yet it felt so far. Twenty minutes. All it had taken was twenty minutes of the two of you not partaking in your back and forth hostility from the last few years for you to break down again. It felt pathetic. It was completely pathetic. 

You were finally approaching the point where the Tri Delt and Lambda house split into opposite directions. All you had to do was keep walking straight while Jungkook veered to the left and— 

You felt the light tug at the belt loop of your jeans, stopping you in place, just like from earlier today after the suspension meeting. You were about to tell him to let you go, when he beat you to the punch. 

“You’re not boring, Y/N. You never have been.” He was so close you could feel his breath hitting the back of your head. “It was one of the millions of reasons that I loved you. I just wanted you to know that.” 

And then he was gone. The pressure of someone tugging you in place disappearing, leaving you to catch your balance as you finally stood alone. You forced yourself to stare straight ahead as you walked towards your front door, not daring to look at him as he walked to the Lambda house. You shoved your keys inside the lock, forcing it open and then taking the stairs by two’s until you were collapsing in your bed, fingers crushing your pillow as you finally let yourself cry. 

——--

A phone was ringing inside of your dreams. It was ringing and ringing and ringing until you realized the sound was coming from some otherworldly place — oh yeah, that would be the current hell that is your life. 

You blinked a couple of times, blindly reaching for the source of the noise that was lost somewhere in your bed. You finally felt your hand slide across the leather of your phone case. You brought it up to read the name and you felt your stomach curl. 

‘Jungkook the Jackass’ was calling. And if it weren’t for the fact that he was calling you at seven in the morning you probably would’ve just sent him straight to voice mail in order to avoid any further conversations about what transpired last night. But alas, it was seven in the morning and just seemed to be too early of a time for him to be calling about something mundane. 

You regretfully lifted the phone to your ear. “Yes?” You grumbled, voice scratchy. 

“We have a problem.” No mention of last night. It was just a clear cut declaration that did not sound good. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up from bed. 

“Come outside your house. Now.” 

Your eyes widened and you instantly jumped from bed. He sounded urgent enough that you decided your flimsy nighttime apparel was going to have to do. You hurried down the stairs and opened the front door, revealing Jungkook in the front yard staring at something. 

“What is it?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to hide your bralessness. 

Jungkook pressed his lips together as he pointed towards the front of the Tri Delt house. “My idiot Lambda Brothers.” 

You followed the direction of his finger, your mouth dropping at the sight before you. 

Dozens and dozens and dozens of boxers covering every inch of the first story of the house. You turned towards Jungkook, so angry and anxiety-riddled that someone from administration had already seen this, that you could hardly speak. 

“I’m going to murder them,” You finally managed to spit through clenched teeth. 

“No,” He started, turning to you, mirroring your own frustration. “I’m going to murder them.” 

→ part 02

[madpanda75]

The Romantics Series “In Sickness and In Health” Part One

Revisiting my Romantics Series with a little two parter. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now. A huge thanks to @sass-and-suspenders​ for giving me the idea for the title and letting my blursty monkey ass send her snippets 😜

Warning: NSFW— Just a pinch of smut

The first warm spring weekend at Harvard meant frat boys tossing a frisbee and sorority girls sunbathing. For you and Rafael, it was a chance to go outside under your favorite oak tree and study. However, little studying was being done by either of you. You were laying on the blanket with your legs propped up against the tree trunk, crossed at the ankles. Kate Chopin’s The Awakening lay abandoned on your chest as you napped.

Rafael, on the other hand, was more focused on you than his philosophy notes. From your polished toes, up your long legs to the delicate forearm shielding your eyes from the sun, and finally the crown of hair haloed around your head. The sunlight streaming through the leaves, made each strand shimmer. He could turn his head and brush his lips against your calf if he wanted to. Instead he shifted in his seat, using his binder to cover his half-hard cock as he watched you stretch like a cat. Your Nirvana t-shirt rising up to reveal a strip of bare skin on your stomach.

Perhaps it was the stress of school or maybe it was the four years of pent-up emotions Rafael had for you, finally bubbling up to the surface. Whatever it was, it seemed as if all you had to do was glance his way or accidentally brush up against his body and he was hard as a rock. He felt like a prepubescent middle schooler.

“I feel you,” you mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Rafael cleared his throat and silently willed his body to calm down.

“I feel you watching me.” You lowered your arm and opened one eye, peering up at him. “What’s up?”

The irony of your words was not lost on Rafael. “Nothing,” he replied, suddenly fascinated by Kirkegaard’s existential philosophy.

A smile tugged at your lips. “Liar.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and nudged his shoulder with your foot. “Come on, I can always tell when you’re lying. Your right eye twitches a little bit.”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a burger. Maybe go see a movie? Como agua para chocolate is still playing at the theater.”

“I can’t. I’m supposed to help Chet Aldrich study for our feminist literature studies exam.” You glanced down at your watch. “Actually, I need to get going.”

Rafael scoffed. “You mean to tell me that misogynist frat boy is taking a feminist literature class?”

You shrugged and laced up your Doc Martens. “I think he thought it was a bird course. Little did he know that Dr. Gupta is ruthless. Poor guy is in way over his head. And anyways, he’s kinda cute in a Jason Priestly sorta way.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. Chet Aldrich was a legacy and the president of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, the oldest fraternity at Harvard. Having had a few classes with Chet, Rafael had seen firsthand what a flirt he was, always talking up the pretty girls to help him pass his classes and maintain his subpar GPA.

Despite his misgivings, Rafael walked with you over to where Chet said he would meet you. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“He asked for my help. What was I supposed to say? I think you’re judging him way too quickly. You don’t even know him.”

“Wait a minute.” He narrowed his eyes a bit, noticing the way you were fidgeting, the blush on your cheeks. It was as if someone had adjusted the antenna on a TV just a hair and all of a sudden the picture became clear. “Do you like this guy?”

“Maybe,” you admitted.

Rafael felt like his heart sank into his stomach. “Maybe,” he softly repeated.

You stared down at your shoes, unable to look your best friend in the eye. Four years. That was how long you had pined over Rafael. There were moments where you just couldn’t take it anymore. Moments where you thought about marching right up to his dorm room and confessing your feelings, but fear always stopped you from taking that next step. You were afraid he wouldn’t reciprocate. Afraid that your friendship would never be the same. But most of all, you were afraid that you’d be left heartbroken and alone. Once the spring semester started, you decided it was time to move on and try to find someone else. It was better to have Rafael as a friend than nothing at all.

After your confession, both of you stood in silence when a Red BMW blaring Informer by Snow came around the corner, screeching to a halt in front of you. Chet Aldrich hopped out of the car and gave you a dazzling smile. Well, you thought it was dazzling. Rafael thought it was smarmy. “Hey, baby. Ready to study?”

You giggled and twirled a strand of your hair. “Absolutely!”

Chet walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for you. “Your chariot awaits.” He pointed to Rafael, who was currently trying to choke back the bile rising in his throat. “Hey, I know you. It’s Rudy or Randy, right?”

“Actually it’s Rafael,” he snapped at the frat boy.

Chet nodded his head. “Oh yeah, Ra-fa-el,” he slowly said.

“Are you kidding me with this guy?” Rafael mumbled so that only you would hear.

“Be nice,” you quietly chastised and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Y/N, wait,” Rafael called out as you walked away, taking your hand and pulling you into a hug. “Just be careful, ok?” he whispered in your ear, squeezing you tight for a second longer before letting go.

Your face grew hot at your friend’s sudden surprise affection and you briefly wondered if he even noticed as you tried to brush it off. “Relax, Rafi. I’ll be fine. I’m not being shipped off to war. I’m going to study.” Waving one final time, you went back over to Chet.

“Don’t worry,” Chet said, shutting the passenger door after you stepped inside. “I’ll be sure to have her back in one piece.” He winked and got in the car, driving away and leaving Rafael alone in the dust.

*****

You straddled Rafael on the bed, kissing him hard, all teeth and tongue. Your books tossed aside and long forgotten during your hot and heavy makeout session. You rocked against his denim-clad erection, your hair tickling his face as you caressed his tongue with your own.

Rafael whimpered and ran his hands down your back. Grabbing your ass, he encouraged you to continue your movements, the wet spot in his boxers growing larger. The collective sounds of your labored breathing and soft moans echoed around the room with every slow drag of your hips.

“Rafi, make love to me,” you murmured between kisses.

He groaned, already on the brink of coming in his jeans. “Are you sure?”

“Please, I need you,” you purred, your voice dripping with desire.

In an instant, Rafael flipped you over, rendering you on your back. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed you were completely naked. “What?” He looked around the bedroom, the clothes you were wearing only seconds ago were nowhere to be found. “How did you—”

You giggled and licked your lips, your gaze lowering to his groin. “Damn. All these years and I never realized you were packing.”

Rafael looked down and realized that his clothes were gone. “But I didn’t—”

“Rafi, fuck me,” you whined, your eyes half-hooded with lust.

No longer caring where your or his clothes were by that point, he crashed his mouth into yours, spreading your legs. His large hand palmed at your breast, pinching your hardened nipple.

“Rafael,” you gasped and arched into his touch.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned, aligning himself with your entrance when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Tilting his head back, Rafael’s jaw dropped when he saw Chet Aldrich standing by the bed.

“You’re too late, Rudy. She’s mine,” he said with a smirk.

“It’s Rafael,” he sneered.

“Whatever. Get out of the way.” Chet pushed Rafael off you, sending him flying off the bed.

Rafael sat bolt upright, his t-shirt soaked with sweat. Running a hand over his face, he glanced over at his bedside clock. It was 7:30. Chet Aldrich was probably putting the moves on you at this very moment. He flopped back onto the mattress, his mind reeling over you, over Chet, over the bizarre dream he  just had.

Your behavior that afternoon bewildered him. He had never seen you flirt before. That wasn’t you. You were the girl that would make a quippy remark whenever someone put the moves on you, choosing to walk away arm in arm with Rafael instead. Maybe after four years, he didn’t know you at all. Maybe he really had missed his chance with you. Putting his hand over his heart, he felt dull ache radiating from beneath his rib cage.

He sighed and looked down to find his painfully hard cock sticking straight up. Apparently, you made quite an impression in his dreams, that is until Chet Aldrich interrupted. Unzipping his jeans, he freed his erection and closed his eyes. He began to stroke himself, imagining what he would do to you if you were there— worshipping every inch of your skin, making you come undone with his mouth before crawling on top of you, thrusting into your pussy, feeling your slick walls grip him.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned, smearing the precum that had leaked out of his weeping head against his shaft. His breath hitched as he sped up his movements, squeezing himself at the root of his cock all while fantasizing about how you would writhe in pleasure underneath him. The noises you would make. Your sweaty bodies molded perfectly to each other. He was so close, right about to tumble off the edge when the phone ringing pulled him back.

Rafael whined and wiped his hand off, reaching for the phone on the nightstand. “Hello,” he grumbled.

“Rafael? It’s Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N,” he squeaked and nearly dropped the reciever while covering himself with a pillow, as if your mother had the ability to see what he was doing through the phone. “Is everything ok?” A small sob escaped her lips and his pulse began to quicken. “Did something happen?”

All the color drained from his face listening to her, only processing certain parts. Car accident. You. Mount Auburn Hospital. “I’m on the first flight out of Chicago,” she said. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind staying with her until I get there? I would ask her roommate, but Rebecca is away at a crew competition.”

“Absolutely. I’m on my way.” Rafael stood up and nearly walked out of the room when he realized that his pants were still dangling around his ankles.

“Thank you. You’re such a good friend to Y/N.” She sniffled. “You know, she hates hospitals. Ever since—”

“I know,” he softly replied. “I’ll head over right now.” Panic began to set in as soon as he hung up with your mom. Running out the door, several thoughts came to his mind—for you to be ok and that he was going to murder Chet Aldrich. 

@glimmerglittergirl​ @southern-magnolia​ @sweetcannolicarisi​ @delia26​ @obfuscateyummy​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @eclecticminded​ @thatesqcrush​ @katmstanton​ @amirightcounsellor​ @beltzboys2015-blog​ @letty-o​ @sonnysdoll​ @lyssa1385​ @sweetsummertime99​ @burningsorr0ws​ @gibbs274​ @izzythefanfreak​ @babypink224221​ @livxrafa​ @esparza-army​ @obsessionprofessional​ @ottosuricato​ @melsquared79​ @dreila03​ @frenchiefoxy​ @tropes-and-tales​ @thecraziestcrayon​ @goodluckfindingone​ @scarlettsoldier​ @amirightcounselor​ @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ @imjustreallynosy​ @graniairish​ @ashley-chi​ @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613​ @imagine-all-the-imagines​ @mysterioustrashadventures​

[klydcs]

what’s up, fam ?! i’m lania and i’m here to bring my trash son klyde here. he’s loud and ready to annoy the sh** out of everyone ( even me ). also--i haven’t rped in a year so be gentle with me as i get back in the grove of things. send me a quick message if you want to plot or just talk about the good ol’ vine days and reminisce. i’m down for it all. now hit that read more if you want to find out about my boi and check out my plots. 

neels visser, cismale, he/him. → look out, there’s KLYDE CALLOWAY. you know, the 20 year old TREASURER of GAMMA PHI EPSILON. you know, i overheard someone say that they were HUBRISTIC, IMPETUOUS, INDEPENDENT and HONEST. but that’s just rumours. THE SOUND OF A SKATEBOARD A MILE AWAY, SKINNED KNEES, AND PAINT STAINED VANS, come to mind when i think of them. what about you?

‹ man of the HOUR › ( trigger warning; death, drug use, & violence?? )

two criminals decided to have a child. a con artist and a bank robber decided to bring a baby into the world together. he was destined to follow a path of bad decisions the minute he was born.

he was born in manhattan, ny but was raised in multiple different cities. his parents were constantly running so he was constantly going. up until he was seven years old, he rode along with his parents and their crew. klyde lived his younger years always waiting. waiting for his parents to get back from their “work”, waiting to get to be a child, waiting for a home, waiting for everything. his parents absolutely adored him but they didn’t love him as much as they loved money. their greed didn’t allow them the true opportunity to be parents. their greed also didn’t allow klyde the true opportunity to be a child.

another year passed and when klyde was eight years old his father was gunned down in front of a bank of america. gun shots pierced through the air and klyde remembers them being so loud. shivers ran down his spine and elicited confusion. he was sat outside across the street from the bank in their getaway vehicle. but he just sat there, with his eyes close and waited. his parents always told him to just wait and they’d be there. it wasn’t until hours later that the police found him. sobs were consuming his body and his eyes were still closed. that’s when the boy first learned how to grieve.

after the loss of his father, klyde forgot how to speak for a while. the trauma rendered him silent and he was mute for two years. he had a magician of a mother who loved to do the disappearing act. she had settled back with him in new york. however as he got older, his mother decided to go on her con runs alone. she left him in a lavish home built from the hard-earned money of strangers he would never meet. it was no surprise he grew up resenting her and her fleeting image. the two were never close and once his father died their separation was not reparable. klyde couldn’t help but grow to despise the parents that cared about money more than them. however, he was their son after all and the apple does not fall too far from the tree. and by the time he was sixteen, he realized just how valuable money was.    

klyde grew up to be the kind of man his parents would be proud of. he was far too honest for his withering heart. money left his palm with a careless vehemence. words seemed to exit his mouth before he could rethink them. the wide-eyed boy became the walking replica of his old man. greed etched its way into his heart before anyone could help him. he grew up with the notion that money meant everything. money raised him and cared for him when his parents couldn’t. he hated the way greed ruined his family but being obsessed with money was part of the calloway way. that boy’s dna didn’t allow him to be different and it got to the point where he didn’t even try. selfish indulgences became his latest love affair.

when he reached the age of eighteen, he went off to college without a word to his mother. he left a note telling her to wire him half a grand and left. of course she did it and continued to supply her son with money. 

just like his father, a plethora of vulgarities always make their way out of his mouth. even when he’s in the midst of a loved one. this man has no filter or care in the world but he isn’t horrible like his parents were. he’s not deceitful like his conartist parents taught him to be. he was b e t t e r. as best as a calloway could get ( which was not much ) 

‹ man of PERSONALITY › 

even though his environment changes–he doesn’t change. he’s selfish, arrogant, honest, loud, and tries his best to be as kind as his honesty lets him. he’s like that annoying younger brother no one wanted but loves. he’ll invite himself to anything you’re doing and make it seem totally natural. 

MY GUY is the absolute worst when it comes to being in a relationship. he’s bisexual and has been in not too many relationships. he’s not a fan bc once he feels he’s like starting to fall for a person he’s like “ZOINK--g2g and ruin it” because he doesn’t do commitment well. like he is lowkey scared of being committed to one person and them leaving him bc it’s been a pattern in his life. so, he ruins it before it can go anywhere. or sometimes he’s just bored and cheats. he’s very weak around people who look good. it’s pathEtic.

he’s chaotic and does a lot of dumb shit and is up so late in the night that at one point all of his ideas are stupid. then, add him smoking weed and/or drinking and he’s a mess.

ARTIST ALERT !! loves painting and drawing in general. it’s his ting. 

a skateboard is his main means of transportation and he carries a blow horn in his bookbag to scare the shit out of everyone when he needs them to move out of his way. he’s annoying x 2. 

thinks very highly of himself and it definitely shows. 

handles money and finances very well. he will talk your ears off about investing and making good investments and he does which is crazy. unlike his parents, he prefers to gain money in a legal way. his parents can’t relate

‹ man of PLOTS ›

familia; klyde has practically no family and issues with keeping people close. somehow this person managed to became practically his family. they are super close and have to deal with him and his obnoxious self on a daily. however, they handle it well and care for him for some reason. 

exes; they probably ended in flAMEs because he’s the worst. he probably cheated on them or did something horrible to them and they ended. maybe they are the one person he regrets hurting? or maybe he doesn’t care and acts like it’s no big deal and wants to still be friends with them? maybe this was the person he cheated with and they had no idea until he let it slip one day?? the world is our oyster so let’s play around with this idea muah

muse; just your typical muse plot. he’s building a portfolio and he needs someone to insPIRE him. he will randomly have them pose for him in specific places and dressed specific ways so he can paint them. he provides food and beverages and chats to them as he paints. he’ll send them random texts in the middle of the night to meet so be ready.

the homie; this is his ride-or-die. these two get into chaotic and random shit sometimes that will leave people shaking their heads. they always find themselves in a mess but would always bail the other out in a heartbeat. 

more to come when my creativity is at its peak.... 

[autisticblueteam]

Different People (Carolina/Girlie)

Chapter 3 / 4: Doubt

[AO3] [Ko-Fi in Bio]

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Drowning, Paralysis [other tags on AO3]

Girlie survived Longshore.

The sole survivor of her team, she found herself thrown out into the world with nowhere to go and nothing to cling to except the burning resentment she held towards the Freelancers. After years of aimlessness, when presented with an opportunity for revenge she snaps it up without hesitation.

But reality is never as simple as fantasy. People aren’t always what you imagined them to be.

Chapter Word Count: 5660

Notes: I struggled with this chapter for days and then pumped out like 3k in two. 

Carolina’s visor glinted in the afternoon sun, tilted up towards her. “No. It can’t be. You—”

“Died?” Girlie cocked her hip, fist rested against it. Laughed, a dry sound. “Nah. You and that big brute gave it your best go, but it didn’t quite stick.”

God she was right there, right in front of her after all these years. Staring up at her like some fucking deer in the headlights, noticeably flinching when she said ‘big brute’. So close that a single well-aimed, well-timed bullet would finish this quicker than even Carolina could react—once that shield went down.

But she didn’t want this to be quick. She wanted this to be satisfying.

“Carolina? Who is that?” the AI on her shoulder said. Carolina’s stance was wide and strong, hands outstretched as if she were physically holding the shield up herself.

There was a moment of hesitation before Carolina spoke again, “…she was a member of Charon’s private security force. The Resistance.”

“She what?!”

“Uh, are we supposed to understand what the fuck that means or—?” the other aqua one said.

“…they were the people we fought. Back in Freelancer.”

“Okay, yeah, so, what the hell is she doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you think?” Girlie tossed a knife and caught it, cocked her head. “You have a failing AI, Carolina. That bubble isn’t going to hold forever and when it gives out? You don’t have cover. It’s only a matter of time and I’m used to waiting.”

Carolina’s gaze broke from her for the first time since she arrived, head turning to the Epsilon AI. “Church… what is she talking about…?”

“How many years has it been since we last fought, Carolina? Seven, eight? That’s a lifetime for an AI, even I know that.” Carolina tensed again and oh, it felt good to see her shaken. See her realise that she was cornered. That shield would fall eventually, all Girlie had to do was wait. “Oh, and whilst you’re stuck here? A bunch of these guys are heading to handle your friends at Alpha whilst someone else goes ahead to that temple. So I’d use your last minutes wisely, Carolina.”

A beat of heavy silence. Girlie watched, to see what Carolina would do.

Finally, she said, “…Church, connect me to the war room.”

“Smart choice.”

Girlie stood tossing her knife to a steady beat as Carolina debated with the generals about who was most in need of their limited reinforcements. Wasn’t really paying attention, didn’t even catch the result before Carolina fell quiet again and the temple was overtaken by that same heavy silence from minutes before.

Four rifles remained trained on the shield. The moment it fell, the three spares would be eliminated and Girlie would have Carolina all to herself.

(Sharkface, every bone in his body broken. Snipes, their body riddled with holes. Sleeves, his neck snapped.)

Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Tunnel vision threatened to creep up on her. This was it. After all this fucking time, this was it. Someone was going to pay for what happened to her team.

(Demo, blown up and drowned. The Chain Twins, crushed and all but flattened. Boss… she’d never found out what happened to Boss.)

Mere minutes were nothing compared to the years she’d waited. As the power depleted, as the shield got closer and closer to falling and leaving them exposed, she stood patiently. Never took her eyes off of Carolina, the way her arms flexed as she tried to keep them up, the way her visor glinted with each tiny glance she made at her surroundings.

When they started to talk again, discussing their options, she wasn’t worried. Hell, she barely paid attention. They didn’t have a way out. Carolina was good but even she wasn’t that good; no matter what they did, most of them wouldn’t make it out of this alive.

So she ignored it. Dismissed it.

Until, all at once, the shrill doctor yelled something about an aim-bot, the shield dropped and bullets started firing.

Three of the pirates had already fallen as she ducked behind a low wall, pressed flush against it, breathing frantic. A spattering of bullets imbedded themselves in the metal milliseconds later, but didn’t make it through. Shit, shit—

What the fuck was that?!

“One hostile remaining.”

Shit. Shit shit shit—

There was a bright flash, blinding even with her back to it. “Oh, goodie, you’re alive! That function only works about half the time—that was a bit of a coin toss.”

“Wow. Why would you tell us that?”

“Besides, it didn’t even get them all! That lady’s still up there she just ducked behind a wall!”

Girlie swallowed the lump in her throat, tried to control her breathing. Grabbing her pistol she popped the mag and checked it, made sure it was loaded. This was going to be harder than she’d hoped.

“Get clear. Go on ahead and get to the temple, help whoever Doyle sent. They can’t get hold of that sword,” Carolina said below her, as she snapped the slide back.

“What about you?”

“I can handle her, now go!”

With that simple order, Carolina isolated herself. That, at least, played into Girlie’s favour.

The sound of armoured boots and a Warthog faded into the distance soon enough and Girlie heard Carolina beneath her, her own steps against the temple’s metal floor. She must have been talking to that AI, but she heard nothing—guess it was all in her head.

Fuck. She didn’t need this kind of disadvantage. She could take her—she could take her—but this wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Fucking Freelancers and their fucking toys.

Carolina’s voice echoed from beneath her, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but—”

The laugh that erupted surprised even her, dry and full of malice. “Oh like hell you don’t know what I’m doing here.” Shuffling towards the edge of the wall, she peered around. Carolina hadn’t moved far and her rifle remained mag-locked to her back. “You’re a smart woman, Carolina. Take a fucking guess.”

“I—” She hesitated, so uncharacteristically unsure of herself. Now that she thought about it, she’d been acting off ever since she came out of that portal thing in the centre. Yet that Grey woman must have gone inside but came out no worse for wear.

Not that it mattered. Her being out of it might even level the playing field.

"How about I just explain then, huh? Give you the whole goddamn speech.” Popping up over the top of the wall she squeezed the trigger, fired two hasty shots that Carolina dodged easily. Her head snapped up towards her. “You killed my fucking team, Carolina. Is that what you want to hear? I’m here because you and your team killed my entire fucking team. I’m here because I’m the only one fucking left.”

Her eyes flicked to the ground. Bit of a drop, didn’t know if her legs could take it, but she wasn’t going to take the damn stairs.

Fuck it.

Landing in a roll minimised the impact but fuck the shooting pain up her spine took her breath and it took a moment for her legs to recover, for sensation and control to settle. Something hadn’t been right since the purge, like the connection had been damaged, but she had to fight. So she pulled herself up to her feet and squared her stance, ignoring the odd tingle that ran down her legs. Grabbed her knives.

“I’m here,” she was right there, right there in front of her, within touching distance, after all these fucking years she was right there— “because someone has to fucking pay, Carolina. First you, and then Agent Washington.”

“…you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

With a low growl, Girlie lunged.

Carolina threw herself back, away from the wide sweep of her knife. Spun on her heel and came back at her with a high kick, narrowly missing her head as she ducked. Another, then another—the third connected with her chest, pushed her back.

Catching herself, Girlie grit her teeth.

Aim for the vulnerable areas. Get a knife in that open gut and even Carolina would go down.

Tucking her arms close to her chest she got in close with another spin and lashed out with another swipe that barely missed her midsection. Carolina dodged and feinted and somehow ended up behind her, but Girlie was quick to turn. Block a punch, take a kick, duck out the way of another.

Carolina’s style wasn’t predictable but it had repeating elements that she knew well, that she’d visualised how to counter. Triple kicks were dodged, her fluid feints and spins defied. Didn’t give her the upper-hand but it gave her enough to keep up, to start pushing.

Carolina didn’t let up either. Every move she made was targeted, no doubt helped along by that AI of hers, and it wasn’t long before a well-placed slam of a foot made Girlie’s legs buckle.

Stumbling, she cursed.

“Epsilon, BioScan.”

“Cybernetic implant in her spine connected to her legs. Seems to be the only thing letting her walk, let alone fight. Fancy shit, too. Not cheap.”

“Luckily for me,” dragging herself upright, she let the connection settle, “Charon was very dedicated to making their story believable. Fixed me up before getting me locked up. But hey,” she shrugged, tossed her knife and squared her stance, “they got me to you in the end.”

Another volley of strikes. Girlie kept her sights set on the vulnerable areas of her armour, waited for openings, but Carolina kept up her guard. Every slash at the exposed areas of her armour was blocked, turned back against her. She kept up the pressure and Girlie found herself pushed back, losing ground.

“They waited all this time to send you?” Carolina said, blocking a slash of her knife.

“What?” Gritting her teeth, she pushed against the block. Knife scraping through the paint on her gauntlets. “No. I waited, Charon never did shit for me. This is for me, not for them!”

“Then why are you working for them?”

Girlie froze. What? This was— was all of this— Charon was—?

Carolina didn’t waste the opening. A kick slammed into her gut and she flew backwards, stumbled. The bright white of the portal cast light ahead of her, over Carolina. She hadn’t realised they were so close, that they’d backed up that far.

Her legs bucked, her footing slipped—

And she was falling.

Falling, wind rushing past her, a sensation all too familiar. Falling, waiting for the hard impact of concrete or water against her back. Falling, with her eyes clamped shut and her breath held on instinct.

But the impact never came.

One second she was falling and the next second she was stood firm on her feet in the middle of some open area. Everything around her had some weird… unreal, quality to it; blurred, almost, smeared. Something wasn’t right about this— this— wherever this portal had taken her.

Now how the fuck did she get out of here?

“WHO… ARE… YOU?”

Girlie grunted. “Fuck off, I’m not here for— whatever the hell this is,” she said, spinning on the spot as she looked for a way out. There was a way in, there had to be a way out. “Let me out of here! Goddammit she— fucking— shit.”

That was when she heard the beeping.

Of a heart monitor. Flat-lining.

It sounded exactly the same.

Exactly the same, like it was torn directly from her memory of that horrible fucking day. Even her nightmares had never recreated the sound quite so vividly, so precisely. Hearing it then dragged her right back to that day, to the hospital. Made her want to cover her ears, to make the sound stop.

Spinning again she searched for the source of the sound (that fucking sound, the sound of one of her family dying—) despite internally kicking herself, despite the nausea that twisted her gut. For a moment she thought there was nothing, that it had come out of the air like that voice—

There was a hospital bed mere metres away from her when she stopped spinning.

Sharkface was laid there, the steady beat of his heart replaced by that long, piercing beep that burrowed its way deep into her skull. No one else, no doctors, no nothing. Just him and her.

He almost looked peaceful, without the frantic buzzing of doctors around him.

She remembered Boss yelling at the Doctors to do more. She remembered the days after, where they all talked in hushed, angry tones about how Charon hadn’t done enough. She remembered being angry at the Freelancers, the real root of her resentment.

But there was no one here but him and her.

Stepping towards the bed didn’t close the distance. It remained perpetually out of her reach. Nothing she did could get her closer, would let her help him. She didn’t even know why she was trying—he was already dead this wasn’t real—but she couldn’t just stand by and watch, not again.

So she ran harder, tried to break whatever illusion kept her back and finally, it almost seemed as if she was getting closer—

Behind her, there was the sound of a domed energy shield.

Turning on her heel, she knew what she’d find before she saw it.

Hexagonal tiles splattered with blood, a final glimpse of a red and black figure trying to duck out of the way of a ricocheting bullet. Deep, dark red staining the entire dome—so much blood for the one figure inside—before it fell. The distant thud of them hitting the ground. Falling to their knees, then flat on their face.

So, so far out of her reach. Up where they always were.

And unlike that day, there was no obvious source of the bullet, or the dome. No one to retaliate against.

It was the same when Sleeves hit the floor with a sickening crack, less than a metre away from her.

There was no one there. Just Sleeves on his knees, his head jerked unnaturally to the side, his helmet skidding away. Not Agent Maine, who she’d seen kill him all those years ago. Just Sleeves. Dead.

Demo— Demo was the worst. The room was dry, not a drop of water in sight, but he appeared above her as if he was floating. Sinking. Followed the sound of explosions and his scream, a splash. She couldn’t even tear her eyes away as he slowly sunk towards the floor, bleeding out. Red streaking the air, trailing behind him and dissipating in a non-existent current.

She’d never seen that. Not like she had the others.

Tears threatened to fall and she swallowed a thick lump in her throat. Fuck. Fuck. Why was it doing this, why was it making her see— see—

There wasn’t much to see of the twins. The crates came from nowhere and their bodies were hidden. But the sound, god the fucking sound— it took all her strength not to throw up.

Gritting her teeth, Girlie tore her eyes away from the corpses of her friends and glared at the sky. “Stop it! Fucking— stop it! Why the fuck are you showing me all of this?! Fuck off! Let me out of here!”

Girlie all but screamed her throat raw, but there was still no response. If anything the silence seemed to grow heavier in the aftermath, as she stood surrounded by dead bodies with her throat aching.

Alone, again. Like so many times before.

And like so many times before, the silence gave her time to think.

Despite the horrifying things this place had shown her—her friends dying around her all over again, their bodies strewn around her discarded—she felt… a level of fear beneath it all, an undercurrent of constant, consuming fear that wasn’t aimed at the horrors. Her nightmares had been filled with the bodies of her friends for years, that wasn’t anything new.

But in her nightmares there was always someone to blame.

The answer had always been obvious. The Freelancers had murdered her family and left her for dead. That was what had gotten her by for years.

A clear target for her anger. A clear target to blame.

There was no one here to blame and that? That was what scared her. Not the bodies, not the gore, not the scenes she’d relived a thousand times. No.

Gnawing away in the back of her mind was a single seed of doubt, planted when Carolina claimed that all of this shit she was doing now was under Charon’s orders. Under the orders of the same people that had put her in this situation in the first place. The people who’d let her take the fall for their shit and let her rot in prison. The people who’d sent her teams to their deaths and—

“Fuck!” Her helmet hit the floor with a sharp bang and she dragged her hands through her hair.

Who the fuck was to blame? The Freelancers had killed them but Charon had sent them to do their dirty work but the Freelancers had— but Agent Carolina, Agent Maine, Agent Washington— but Charon, the Chairman—

Girlie fell to her knees and sobbed.

The next thing she knew she was outside the portal, the muggy air of the jungle against her face and the bright sunlight making her eyes sting. Messages pinged off inside her helmet where it lay at her feet, no doubt Felix or somebody asking where the fuck she was.

Without even glancing at them, she slumped back against the nearest surface and curled up into a ball.

Both her body and her conviction shaking.

“What the hell happened out there, Girlie?! You had one job! One easy little job, we gave you backup and everything, but here you are, whilst Agent Carolina runs around very much alive. Not even injured!”

Girlie gritted her teeth. Felix paced around in front of her, gesticulating wildly. He’d barely finished with his display of repeatedly slamming that damn sword hilt against every surface he could find trying to get it to work. Even after she’d made it very clear that the damn Sangheili AI had said the swords wouldn’t work for anyone but their initial claimant.

He was absolutely insufferable and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk away. But doing that wouldn’t end well for her, so she stood still and glared at him behind her visor.

“You didn’t tell me that they had a gun run by a damn AI. It auto-targeted all of my backup and almost shot me. After that I did what I could but like I said, she got the upper-hand and threw me into the portal you both conveniently forgot to mention,” she said, hardly suppressing the disdain in her voice. Felix huffed, finally stopped his pacing to lean against a crate.

“Did you encounter anything within the portal?” Locus asked, monotone as— no, actually, their voice seemed to waver. Barely enough to be noticeable, but definitely there.

“No.” Like hell she was telling them what happened in there. “Threw me out what felt like a couple seconds later but it must have been longer, because Carolina was gone and my helmet was going mad with comm. notifications about me fucking up.”

“Right, yeah, okay, how about this: why the hell didn’t you mention this ever so tiny detail about the sword the first time you contacted us about the temple, hm? How about that?” Felix said, gesticulating wildly.

God she could punch him right in his snarky little— “I didn’t exactly have time. The whole idea was that you got to it first. You not being fast enough? That’s not on me.”

“Why you little—”

Felix jerked forward. Girlie’s hands twitched towards her knives and—

Locus’ arm blocked Felix before he moved more than a step.

“No violence between partners.”

Felix glowered at them with a simple tilt of his helmet. “She’s not a partner, she’s an idiot. And thanks to her, we’ve got a key that does nothing until the General is dead!”

“Then just go and kill the General,” Girlie said, shrugging. Really, didn’t they have to do that anyway?

“The grown-ups are talking, blondie.”

Ohhh she fucking hated him.

“Quiet! We have the advantage and we have a plan. So quit moaning, and do your job.” Their gaze shifted from Felix to Girlie. “Both of you.”

With as much sarcasm as she could muster, Girlie said, “You’re the boss,” before turning on her heel and walking away. One more minute in that room and she’d be throwing a knife at Felix’s head and no matter how good her aim was, that wouldn’t end in her favour.

Dragging herself back to her cell, which she now had all to herself, she felt that seed of doubt in the back of her mind begging for her attention. It wormed its way into her thoughts as she stripped off her armour and started to do her exercises—something that had always chased away unwanted thoughts before. She needed to test the connection, anyway.

For a little while it worked. Focused on how her legs were working—whether there was a delay between what she wanted to do and it happening or a lack of proper sensation—she was able to keep all of her attention on her work out. There was definitely something off, but it wasn’t enough to stop her walking or fighting. All she could do was try to adapt in the time she had to waste, she’d get the damage fixed after this was all over.

If she made it out of this.

She ran through her drills two more times than necessary just to keep herself distracted but eventually the thoughts started to creep their way in. Realising there was no point fighting the inevitable, she pulled herself up onto her bed, laid down face-first and made a frustrated noise into her pillow.

This was the last thing she needed.

This was meant to be her chance to get revenge. Kill Carolina, kill Washington—end them, eradicate the last of the Freelancers and make sure they knew who’d killed them and why. They’d killed her family. Her anger towards the Freelancers was the only thing that had kept her going for years.

But Carolina just had to plant that seed of doubt, didn’t she?

She didn’t know why she’d never asked who she was working for. Maybe a part of her, somewhere subconscious, had spotted all the signs of Charon’s work—the fancy weaponry, the alien shit, the big money. Maybe that part of her knew she’d be conflicted, if she knew for sure.

All those years ago she’d latched onto the Freelancers because Charon was out of reach. They were funding her recovery, they were in charge of her future, they were going to let her go after the Freelancers.

And fuck, it wasn’t as if the Freelancers were innocent. No, no, they were part of this. Her anger at them hadn’t been wrong, it couldn’t have been; she saw them kill her family, she saw what happened to Sharkface, she saw it all.

But did that mean they were to blame for what had happened?

Or was this all bigger than that? Bigger than her, or them?

Fuck. Fuck. Carolina just had to say something, didn’t she? One sentence and she’d planted the thought that started her world crumbling down around her for the second time. One sentence and she felt like she was back on page one.

Years of her life had been based around that anger.

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do if that started to change.

By the time they called her again, she’d had almost twenty-four hours for her mind to run in circles. It was a relief when they told her that they were preparing for a big push into the city, that she’d have another shot at the Freelancers soon.

Maybe with a mission to focus on, she’d be able to chase away the doubt. Maybe when she saw one of the Freelancers again, she’d be filled with the rage she needed to end this.

Maybe.

She hoped so.

It would be so much easier if she was.

Her mission was the same: take out the Freelancers, plural this time. Keep them occupied so they couldn’t get between the pirates and the General, if nothing else—a qualifier so helpfully added by Felix. There would be no backup this time but she wouldn’t have taken it if she’d been offered it. She was doing this alone or not at all.

The nagging voice in the back of her mind—that sounded suspiciously like Boss—told her it would be the latter. So she told it to shut the fuck up.

The occupants of Chorus had made one grave mistake, she thought as she landed on the asphalt. Containing everything in one area of the city made sense in theory but in practice, it made it much too easy to eliminate huge numbers of people in a short amount of time. She remembered learning that the hard way back in the early days of her cell; it was easy to lose a lot of people that way.

Shaking the thought from her head, she started her hunt for the Freelancers. Now wasn’t the time to feel sympathetic to the locals.

It didn’t take long to find them.

“…wind all over the place.”

“Well, at least they keep us off the streets and out of trouble.”

Girlie would have laughed when they came around the corner, only to be face to face with her. Would have, if she’d felt like she was supposed to feel.

Agent Carolina and Agent Washington stood in front of her, the last remaining Freelancers that she had been so, so determined to kill a mere day before. Only now the rage that filled her chest was— different, weaker.

Unsure.

It felt almost performative to force a laugh and rest a hand on her hip. “Out of trouble, huh? You do know these tunnels aren’t sealed, right?”

Washington and a woman she didn’t recognise raised their weapons, but Carolina held out an arm.

Her gut twisted.

“We don’t have time for this,” Washington said, helmet tilting just barely towards Carolina. A side-glance. “Carolina…”

“I’m the one she wants,” Carolina said, though something in the words felt deeper. Like she had some other motivation. Girlie didn’t have time to analyse that, before she set her sights on her. “If I stay, will you let them go?”

One of them would be easier to fight than two.

“Fine, whatever.” She had no commitment to whatever the fuck was going on here anyway. So what if Washington and the other woman screwed up the mercenaries’—Charon’s—plans? “But once I’m done with you? Don’t think I won’t be going after Washington, too.”

Carolina didn’t acknowledge the threat. “Kimball, Wash— go.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Kimball asked, taking a step forward. Carolina didn’t look back.

“Yeah. I’m sure. Now go.”

With that, they took off down one of the other paths and left them alone.

Silence filled the tunnel. Carolina and Girlie stood still, staring each other down.

It was like Carolina was hesitating. The way she’d stopped Washington and Kimball from ending her then and there, the way she stood just… looking at her. It was hesitation.

Why would she hesitate?

She was here to kill her why— why would she—

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her knives. That was it, that was enough. She was finishing this, now. Damn her for making her doubt and damn her for hesitating and just damn her!

“Fuck you,” she spat, as she lunged.

Carolina blocked her, gauntlets crossed and shielding her from the clumsy first slash of her knife. Throwing her back with a sharp push she created distance, wound up a spinning kick and aimed right at her head. Ducked, spun and lashed out with a blade at her legs—but Carolina saw it coming and jumped, nailing her in the visor with her foot.

Pain shot up her back as she landed hard, but she rolled over and jumped to her feet. Tossing her knife to adjust her hold she went back for another swipe, but Carolina was quick and she was clumsy in her frustration. Her legs were lagging behind. Her mind was swimming with conflicting thoughts.

Only one thing came through clear: she wanted this to be over, one way or another this hand to end.

Strike after strike, Carolina blocked her. Every hit in return was retaliation, never an initiation. Girlie was kept at bay with bare minimum force and fuck that made it worse, made her fight harder, made her make more mistakes until—

A disarming strike. Her knife clattered to the floor. A foot in her gut threw her back and away.

Barely catching herself, landing on her knees, she shuddered as a spark ran down her legs. An attempt to put pressure on one nearly sent her sprawling to the ground. Shit. Shit shit shit— there was sensation, but she couldn’t get up, she couldn’t get up. She was defenceless, disarmed and vulnerable—

And yet Carolina just stood there. Looking at her.

“Why— why won’t you just fight me? Why won’t you just fight back?!” she snapped, jerking her arm out. It unbalanced her and she caught herself, palm against the asphalt. “I’m trying to kill you, fight back for fuck’s sa—”

“I’m sorry.”

The words hit like a punch in the gut.

“…what?”

“I’m sorry. For what we did to you… to your friends.” Carolina’s voice was calm and even as she stood there, mere feet away but with her stance relaxed and unthreatening. “You were on one side of the fight and we were on the other. We thought we were the good guys. I’m sorry.”

“…wha-what?” Girlie choked on the word. Her throat felt tight. No, not again. Not again. She couldn’t do this. This wasn’t how— “You— shut up. Shut up. You can’t do this again, I won’t— sorry doesn’t bring them back.”

“I know,” Carolina said, with the weight of a realisation all of her own. Her visor was tilted away from her, never meeting hers. “But I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want to kill you. Enough people have died for Charon and for Freelancer. I won’t add to that if I don’t have to.”

“But— but—”

This wasn’t how things were supposed to be, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Carolina was meant to fight back, she was meant to— she was meant to— what was she meant to do? Who was she meant to be? A monster? One of the shameless murderers that she’d spent years building the Freelancers up to be?

Years of aiming all of her anger at the Freelancers, at Carolina. Years of blaming them and them alone for what had happened to her family. Years— and yet in the space of a couple of days, it had all come toppling down around her.

“…who the hell am— am I supposed to blame if not you?” Her voice strained and she choked back a sob, crumpling in on herself as her shoulders started to shake. “Who— I don’t know— I don’t know.”

All of the fight faded away and her frustration turned inwards. Hot tears rolled over her cheeks.

Carolina crouched in front of her, offered a hand. “Stand down. Come with me. You don’t need to trust me, but let me help you.”

Girlie swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to die. She’d never wanted to die.

Her team wouldn’t want her to die.

She took the hand.

Carolina pulled her arm up around her shoulders and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her to her feet. Even with the support it was difficult to stay steady, but Carolina kept her up.

“Epsilon—”

“I got you covered C. There’s a Warthog not far, I’m marking it on your HUD.”

“Alright.” Securing her hold on Girlie’s waist, she turned towards one of the other tunnels. “Think you can walk a hundred metres with me?”

“I’ll manage,” Girlie said, gripping her shoulder tight. Didn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at her.

Carolina took a step and she matched it. It was slower going than she’d have liked, but they started to move. Girlie kept her eyes on the floor, watched her own feet as they scuffed against the asphalt, tripping and stumbling. Every few steps she almost fell flat on her face and Carolina had to drag her back upright.

She couldn’t believe she was letting herself be seen like this by her.

Finally they reached the Warthog and Carolina grabbed her under her legs, lifted her into the seat. Girlie almost protested, but she knew that she’d never have managed it on her own, not in her state.

“Wash, we’re on our way to you.”

“We’re on our way?”

“That’s what I said.” Clambering into the driver’s seat, she started it up. “The uh—” a moment’s hesitation, a glance at Girlie, “…what do I call you?”

“…Girlie. You call me Girlie.”

She nodded. “Girlie is coming too.”

“…well alright then. I was just about to contact you, Doyle’s riding to the reactor and we need to be at the LZ quick.”

“Doyle?”

The engine revved and the Warthog reversed, turning to drive down another tunnel. Girlie pulled off her helmet and dropped her head back over the seat, the radio conversation nothing more than a faint murmur in the background.

Nothing ever went like she expected, did it?

[illumynare]

Red vs Blue fic: Gift of the Magi (8/12)

Summary: Wash has already gone through too much, been broken too often. So when they get captured by Hargrove together, Tucker figures he has one job: until the cavalry shows up, keep Wash alive and (relatively) sane. No matter the cost.

Unfortunately, Wash is just as determined to protect him.

Parings: None. Warnings: Rated M. Canon-typical language, aftermath of canonical character death, psychological torture, hallucinations, hallucinated child harm, mentions of torture and suicide, fake-out character death.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

Wash wakes up back in his cell. He's stripped down to his undersuit—he feels raw and naked without his armor—and his whole body aches.

I disobeyed orders. Tucker will pay for it.

The thought drums through his head, over and over. All he's tried to do, ever since they got captured, is keep Tucker safe. It's the only mission he has left, now that Caboose is dead. And now, because he froze up, Tucker is going to be punished.

Just because he didn't want to kill Palomo.

Tucker wouldn't want him to kill Palomo.

Wash manages to get to his feet. Hargrove is probably going to come talk to him soon. And Wash has to have something to say to him, some way to keep him from punishing Tucker for Wash's disobedience.

Why the fuck couldn't he have killed Palomo?

It feels just like Alpha's memories. Locked up alone, knowing he fucked up, waiting to hear how bad the consequences are going to be. He can almost hear the Director's voice saying, I'm sorry to tell you, Lavernius Tucker is—

Wash slams his fist into the wall, but the pain is barely enough to ground him. He's on the edge of a panic attack, his skin crawling and his breath fluttering and his mind a swirl of I'm sorry to tell you I'm sorry simulation_011111 get me out get me out I'm sorry I'm so tired—

He takes a deep breath. Rolls his fingers into fists, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

He has to think. He need a plan.

Are they still on Chorus? Wash doesn't know how the raid at the tractor beam tower ended. Maybe they've already cleared orbit, maybe Carolina and the rest will never find them—

He flexes his fingers again. Focus.

Wherever they are, Hargrove still needs someone to work for him. Wash is sure of that. Otherwise, he'd dead already, after the stunt he pulled. Instead Tucker's going to pay for it, maybe die for it—

Unless. Unless.

Wash volunteered to work for Hargrove because otherwise, it was going to be Tucker. Because Tucker doesn't deserve to be strapped down on the medical bed, his implants pried open and an AI jammed into his skull to make him an obedient weapon.

But it's better than Tucker being dead.

If Wash can just convince Hargrove that he's useless now, that Tucker is the only one who's likely to work for him now—

Hargrove will probably use him for leverage against Tucker. Will certainly punish him. But Tucker will live, and that's all that matters, now.

It's all Wash can hope for, now.

So when the viewscreen in his cell flickers to life, Wash is ready. When Hargrove says, "Do you care to explain your behavior, Agent Washington?" he just squares his shoulders—

I'm sorry, did something about my actions indicate I expect to survive?

—and he says, "I'm not going to work for you anymore."

His heart is pounding wildly. He knows how risky this is. Hargrove could decide to have Tucker shot this minute, but the only way that Tucker gets out of here alive is if Hargrove decides to focus on breaking Wash instead.

Hargrove wants somebody to work for him who knows Chorus, who could be devastating when used against Chorus. Captain Tucker would be a better man for that job than Agent Washington.

(Tucker was a better man even before Wash turned into a murderer.)

"I thought we had an agreement," says Hargrove.

"That was before you sent me to kill my own men," says Wash. "Twice. Get Tucker to do your dirty work. I'm done."

Hargrove gives him a couple seconds of that soulless, lizard-like gaze. Then he says, "Perhaps it's time for me to teach you a lesson."

If he hadn't spent so long as Recovery One, Wash wouldn't be able to keep his voice calm as he says, "If you kill Tucker, you won't have anything left to use against me."

"I find that most people become obedient once they're sufficiently broken," says Hargrove. "Lavernius Tucker certainly did."

There's a roaring in Wash's ears. Tucker seemed okay last time they spoke—but he's not sure how long it's been, he's lost so much time—

"And I won't kill him," Hargrove continues. "You will. Command code one-one-foxtrot-five."

And the Mark IV drones, Initiating remote control mode.

Tucker doesn't throw the teleportation grenade fast enough, and the pirates shoot Carolina, rip Epsilon screaming out of her skull, and then kill Wash and Caboose.

Tucker dies alone at Sandtrap, bleeding out while squeezed between the wall and a fallen rock, knowing that no one is coming, no one is coming—

Tucker is extradited to Sanghelios, and they've spent years planning how to punish him.

None of it matters anymore. Because through all of it, Junior is dead and Tucker knows it, even when he can't remember.

None of it is real, and he knows that too.

At some point, he's sitting in his cell again. Is it a simulation? Fuck if he cares.

Church is there. It's nice, having him around. He's not real, but Tucker isn't picky at this point. He can see Church now, a little glowing blue figure floating by his knee, waving his hands as he rambles about something that Caboose once did.

If Tucker closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that they're back in Blood Gulch, just talking about pointless bullshit. He can pretend it's early days, before Chorus, before they met any Freelancers except Tex, before Junior—

He thinks the name, and shudders.

My kid he was my kid I killed my—

"Tucker! You're getting distracted, man."

His eyes open. Church floats in front of him, arms crossed.

"What?" asks Tucker. "It's not like we've got to keep watch on the Reds."

"No," says Church, "but you never know when— Uh-oh."

He vanishes, suddenly, like he's trying to hide. A second later, the door opens, and there are more guards.

"Wow, you guys cannot get enough of me," Tucker says as they drag him out into the hallway, but his heart is pounding and the world is starting to feel kind of blurry around him. He knows what's happening, what's going to happen, and he's afraid. Maybe he always kind of knows that everything is fake now, but it still fucking hurts getting shot in the gut and stabbed in the eye and strangled by people in power armor.

It hurts watching his friends die, too.

But it's cool. Tucker is totally cool with this. He's protecting Wash, right?

That's the only thing he's good for now.

They drag him into . . . he thinks it's a training room, maybe. Big and wide, with an observation deck overhead. Hargrove is up there, peering down.

Wash stands at the center of the room. He's out of his armor for once, wearing just his kevlar undersuit, and Tucker would make a joke about it except that Wash is holding a pistol, and his face is, his eyes are—

It's the same expression he had when they pulled him out of his armor on Sidewinder. That look of hurting so bad, he doesn't know who he is anymore.

The guards shove Tucker to his knees and step back.

"Tucker," says Wash, his voice sounding strange and choked, as his hands tighten on the gun.

Huh. Tucker doesn't remember the simulation starting. Maybe it was already running back in his cell. Maybe nothing's been real since they strapped him the first time. That would be nice.

"Pistol-whip him," says Hargrove over the loudspeaker, and Wash's eyes widen.

The next second, the blow slams into Tucker's forehead. Stars dance across his vision, and the pain rings on and on through his head. It takes him a little while to realize that he's on the ground, that Wash is talking.

"—sorry," Wash is saying quietly, desperately. But he isn't moving to give Tucker a hand; he's standing straight and still, the pistol clenched in his hands. "I'm sorry, Tucker, I can't stop—"

"I'd like to remind you, Agent Washington," says Hargrove, "that you're the reason for this situation."

"If you make me kill him," says Wash, biting out each word, "I will never stop fighting you."

Tucker manages to get back up on his knees. He feels dizzy, but he grins because this is cool, it's all cool. He's been killed by Wash like fifteen times before, he can absolutely take another shot.

"Nah, go ahead, man," he tells Wash. "It's fine."

You can’t make this any worse, motherfuckers, he thinks.

"What?" says Wash, his voice gone small and fragile.

And then Church appears in front of him, arms waving. "Tucker! Tucker, this is real!"

Tucker stares at him, baffled for a moment. "That's . . . what she said?"

"What did you do to him?" Wash demands, looking up at Hargrove.

Church winks out of sight, but he's still talking silently, in Tucker's head. Seriously, man, you're not in the machine, this is real and YOU'RE GOING TO DIE unless you do something!

How about you do something, Tucker thinks. You're Blue Team Captain.

Okay, one, Wash is Blue Team Captain now, and two, I'm dead.

The fuck? You're right here.

You decided you're hallucinating me, right?

Yeah, so why should I believe you?

Oh my GOD just get yourself out of here.

There's a cold weight against Tucker's forehead.

He blinks, realizes what's happening. Wash has the gun pressed to Tucker's forehead, and shit, Tucker's trying to be cool, but he can't help the way he starts shaking because—

This is such fucking bullshit.

But he has to keep Wash safe.

"Tucker," Wash chokes out. "I'm sorry, they put an A.I. in me, I can't—I can't—"

And he sounds so fucking broken, like he did the time he had to leave Tucker pinned under a crashed Warthog and bleeding out, because Caboose was wounded but could still be saved. Tucker thought that simulation was real when it happened, and he remembers trying to tell Wash it was okay while he choked on his own blood. He knows this isn't real now, but he still can't help wanting to comfort Wash.

"It's okay, dude," he says. "I know you don't want to hurt me."

Wash has never wanted to hurt him. Make him miserable, sure. Drive him up the fucking wall, almost every day. Break him and train him into being a good soldier, absolutely. But Tucker has total faith that Wash has never, ever wanted to hurt him. Ever since Sidewinder, all Wash has ever tried to do is keep Blue Team safe.

All Tucker wants to do now is measure up to that. He can still hope for that much, right?

He knows this is just a simulation, but he lets himself pretend that he isn't alone, that he's talking to the real Wash.

"As long as you're safe," he says, "it's okay."

Wash stares at him. Tucker closes his eyes and waits for the gunshot.

He's done this before. It's going to be fine.

The shot is so loud, it's like a punch to the head. Tucker flinches—

—he flinches and he hears Church says OH FUCK—

—and he realizes, I'm alive.

He opens his eyes, and meets Wash's eyes for one instant.

Then Wash topples over. Other people are shouting, but they sound incredibly far away. Tucker is staring at Wash, at the blood seeping out from the hole in his chest, at the way his face is draining of color and his eyes are glazing over.

"No," says Tucker. "No—Wash—"

This isn't right, it never goes like this—he's had to see Wash die a lot of times, but the simulations never have Wash put a gun to Tucker's head and then not kill him—

It's not real. He's going to wake up.

But he doesn't.

The adrenaline's crashing through his veins, is making his heart pound and his hands shake, and Tucker isn't waking up. The blood's spreading out in a pool around Wash, his face is so pale the freckles look almost black, and Tucker isn't waking up.

Wash's eyes close, and Tucker can't wake up.

Shit, he thinks, as the guards push past him, and somebody yells for a medic.

Shit. This is real.

[arirashkae]

La Petite Mort et La Grande

Characters: Locus, Felix, brief appearances of Santa AI and Epsilon AI

Team: Medic

Square: Temple of Procreation

Word Count: 868

WARNINGS: Felix, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, like guys holy fuck

AO3 Link

OK, so the first 100 words or so of this has been kicking around for a while, and then the “Bad Ending for Chorus” art crossed my dash again, so what’s a girl to do? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  (honestly, I could have saved this one for the angst war, if that tells you how this will go)

“Felix, are you sure this is a good idea?” Locus eyed the alien AI projected above them warily.

Felix strolled forward. “Of course it is. Look, they know we’re going to activate the Purge. So they’re going to try and stop us.” He turned back to Locus. “And frankly, I don’t want to have to deal with that bullshit. So why not a little distraction, send them out on a high note?”

Locus could hear the sadistic grin in his partner’s voice. “I’m more worried about us.”

“Pffft.” Felix waved one hand dismissively. “We’ll be fine in here. Isn’t that right?”

The AI lowered his head. “Much like the Purge Temple, those within these walls will be safe from the Procreation Temple’s effects.”

“Perfect.” The delighted purr in Felix’s voice was almost obscene in itself. Still, Locus said nothing. They were virtually moments from completing their mission after so many years. The two of them would be safe from the Purge Temple. The surviving members of their crew – those they wanted to keep, anyway – had already quietly been reassigned to Tartarus and out of range.

Sadly, they’d had no plausible reason to bring Price planet-side in time.

Locus told himself that the sour, twisting feeling in his stomach was due to how quickly their plans had been shot to pieces recently, and how quickly this one could go badly as well. If the AI was lying and the two mercenaries themselves were affected by either Temple, … Locus wrenched his thoughts away from those scenarios. Felix had made up his mind to activate the devices, and there was little Locus could do to stop him.

“Well, that has to be their Pelican,” Felix commented. “I don’t see anyone though. I wonder if they were waiting inside the Temple.”

Locus just grunted something non-committal from the pilot’s seat. There had been a tense few heartbeats when they first set foot outside the Temple of Procreation, while they waited to see if the AI had decided to fuck with them, and Locus had been even more of a paranoid asshole since.

Still, a few more minutes and this would all be over. Felix could go buy himself his own moon where he could spend the rest of his life drinking stupid coconut-and-pineapple cocktails and fucking whoever caught his fancy that night. Locus could go piss off to do whatever the hell he wanted. And with any luck they’d get the opportunity to arrange an “accident” for Price that Hargrove couldn’t do shit about.

The approached the glowing bridge cautiously. If the one Temple had protected them, it was entirely possible this Temple had protected anyone who–

“Well, I spy with my little eye some Freelancer armor by that pillar, so at least those two are here. Somewhere.”

Locus glanced into the chasm below them. “Down there.”

Felix stepped carefully to the edge of the bridge and peered over. “Huh. She was a natural redhead after all. Or vain as fuck. Doesn’t matter now, I guess.” He kicked a few pieces of armor out of the way, sending one of Wash’s greaves clattering to the ground below.

“You guys are some real sick fucks, you know that, right?”

Felix just grinned at the little AI bobbing in front of his helmet. “Funny, seems like that describes a few other people around here.” He stepped through the hologram, ignoring the invective it spewed at him. “If that thing survives the Purge, let’s hand it over to Hargrove. I’m sure he’d love another trophy for his collection.“

After all these years of firefights and con games, using an Ancient Alien Artifact to finish the job was almost … anti-climactic. Still, at least they had a nice big map to watch the wave spread across the planet, dousing clusters of light as it passed.

“It looks like they were attempting to seize Crash Site Alpha,” Locus commented.

“Those little shits.” Felix almost approved of the audacity. “I don’t know what they hoped grabbing a prison ship would have accomplished.”

“If they’d pulled it down here, they would have accomplished quite a bit.”

OK, that was a fair point. “Good thing they were distracted then, huh?”

The last of the wave reached the edges of the map and burned out. “It is done,” rumbled the AI.

“Finally. I tell you, I can’t wait to shake the dust of this place from my boots. First thing I’m doing, is renting the most expensive goddamned hotel suite I can find. For a goddamned month. I’m soaking in a hot tub until my skin starts to cook. And then I’m going to order every goddamned luxury we couldn’t get on this god-forsaken rock and gorge on them.”

Felix continued to detail his plans, loudly, as they collected the Freelancers’ armor – the AI was nowhere to be found – and stowed it in the Falcon. For once, however, Locus didn’t snipe at him or tell him to shut up. Eh, asshole was probably at loose ends now that the “mission” was complete.

“Hey.” He poked Locus in the shoulder. “Whaddya you say we go find Tucker’s sword for you, before Hargrove tries to claim that, too?”