#but once you hit the halfway mark it really all goes to shit

[tristancaine]

every time I remember how the atlas trilogy ended I get so angry all over again lmao

[adverbally]

Just Try to See in the Dark

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Childhood” | wc: 1,263 | rated: T | cw: references to physical (nonsexual) child abuse and neglect, including description of injuries inflicted by a parent | tags: teacher steve, steve and eddie’s shitbag dads, hurt/comfort, shoutout to all the awesome teachers out there | title from “Close to Me” by The Cure

And with this, I’m officially caught up, just in time for the halfway point of the month! I appreciate everyone who has read and interacted with my work so far. I haven’t written this much in years and it’s all because of contributions from viewers like you. Thank you 💕

———

When Steve gets home from work, almost an hour later than usual, he goes straight into their bathroom and shuts the door.

Eddie watches him go. It’s not unusual after a long day. Sometimes Steve just wants to take a hot shower and start his evening fresh. But after half an hour, the water hasn’t turned on and Eddie is starting to worry.

He hovers outside the bathroom door for several minutes, unsure if he should check on Steve. It doesn’t sound like he’s moving around, which makes a dark corner of Eddie’s mind worry that he’s hurt. What if he fell? What if he wasn’t feeling well and something is really wrong?

It’s that terrifying prospect that finally forces Eddie to rap on the door. “Stevie?”

“Come in,” comes the muffled response.

Eddie opens the door carefully so he doesn’t accidentally hit Steve, but Steve is sitting fully-clothed in the empty bathtub on the other side of the room. “Hi, sweetheart,” Eddie greets him as he comes to sit on the closed toilet lid.

Steve has his knees tucked up to his chin, arms wrapped around his shins. He turns his head sideways so he can speak more clearly. “I had to call Child Services.”

Jesus. Steve loves his class of second graders like they’re his own children. To have to report some kind of abuse to one of them… no wonder Steve went straight to the peace and quiet of the bathtub. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes are dry, but Steve still rubs at his nose with the back of his wrist. “Yeah. Samantha. She had…” He gestures vaguely at his neck. “She usually has bruises somewhere, you know, she’s seven. But today she had actual fingerprints...”

Eddie drops to his knees on the rug next to the tub and gets his arms around Steve right as he starts to shake.

“And when I asked her about it, she just said, ‘He didn’t mean to!’ Like you can accidentally choke your own kid hard enough to leave marks like that.” Steve sniffs. “But he’s her dad and she loves him.”

With that, he buries his face in his knees and lets Eddie hold him.

Steve has always struggled with this part of being a teacher, even while he was working on his degree. Eddie can still see it so clearly, Steve pacing around the tiny dining table in their first apartment, ranting about mandatory reporting.

“You know what would’ve happened to me if a teacher said anything? My dad would’ve made us all smile and pretend everything was fine, and he would’ve beat the shit out of me as soon as the investigator left!” Steve had slammed his fist on the countertop as he passed.

“But we’re supposed to report immediately once we have reason to suspect abuse. Don’t take the time to make sure the kid is safe, don’t look at the broader pattern of incidents, just…” He had run out of breath there and couldn’t catch it for several minutes once he started crying, not out of sadness or worry but frustration.

It’s not frustration that drives Steve to tears now. It’s grief and fear for Samantha, for a younger version of himself, for the consequences of what the law requires of him.

“You’ve been looking out for her for a long time,” Eddie murmurs, chin hooked over Steve’s shoulder. The edge of the tub is digging into his side but he’ll be damned if he lets go of Steve right now. “This just confirms that your instincts were right. And hopefully now she’s gonna get help.”

“I’m scared that I just put her in a worse situation,” Steve admits, raising his head enough to wipe his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater. “She shouldn’t have to deal with all this, she’s just a kid.”

Eddie vaguely remembers something about Sammy’s mom not being in the picture. “She can’t stay with an abusive parent just because she loves him. That’s why children don’t get to make the decisions here.”

Steve shakes his head. “But when she’s stuck in a foster home because of me—”

“Nuh-uh-uh, don’t even go there.” He ducks his head to look Steve in the eye. “She’s gonna be safe because of you. She’s gonna go home from school and not have to worry about her dad hurting her anymore. That’s huge.” He knows they can both understand that.

“I wish there was something else I could do,” Steve sighs.

“Just keep being the best second grade teacher in the state. Keep paying attention and listening to the kids. That’s what they need from you.”

Steve tilts his head to rest against Eddie’s shoulder. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It’s more than you think.” Eddie kisses his temple, runs his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I had a teacher in fifth grade, Ms. Martin. It was, like, the year after my mom died, and I wasn’t coping at all. My dad was barely around to drop off some food for me once in a while. I was a nightmare student. Stole from the other kids, slept during lessons, started fights at recess.”

“It’s hard to care about school with stuff like that going on at home,” Steve says. Even now, he’s defending Eddie against shit that happened twenty years ago.

“Luckily for me, Ms. Martin understood that, too. She knew I was smart and I liked to draw, so she would assign me little projects. Stuff like illustrating a scene from the book we were reading or drawing a diagram of the parts of a plant or whatever. She let me work in her classroom at lunch and after school. Every day, she brought me a sandwich and a snack so I didn’t have to sneak food out of someone else’s lunchbox.”

Steve sits up to look at him with the most heartbroken expression. “Ed, that’s— she sounds incredible.”

“Yeah. She might not have fixed things for me outside of the classroom, but she made being at school a thousand times more bearable. Just by giving a shit.” He grins up at Steve. “Like you.”

“You know you do that kind of stuff, too, right? Like when you donated all those old dice sets for D&D Club, and when you helped me make Valentines for the whole class so nobody would feel left out. And when you delivered the pizzas for the Halloween party. And—“

Eddie hangs his head in an imitation of bashfulness. “I’m just your humble sidekick. All of that was your idea.”

“Then thank you for helping me make school more bearable for my kids.” Steve takes Eddie’s face between his big, gentle hands and kisses his forehead before angling his head back so their lips align.

“It’s my pleasure.” Eddie pushes himself to his feet with a groan as his knees creak. “Fuck, I’m getting to old to sit on the floor.”

Steve holds both hands out to Eddie, arms fully outstretched as if asking him to pull him upright. When Eddie doesn’t move, he whines, “C’mon, my ass is asleep. At least you were on the cushy rug!”

With a put-upon sigh, Eddie heaves Steve to his feet. “Shower first or food? I made meatballs.”

“Meatballs!” Steve throws his arms around Eddie’s neck, mostly for balance as he steps out of the bathtub. “You really do love me,” he fawns, batting his lashes for effect.

“You’re okay, I guess.” Before Steve can object, Eddie darts in for a quick kiss and darts off. “Wash up, dinner’s in five!”

[ctommy-chileno]

Here's a list of some ongoing fanfictions I've been following if you want some literature

(Ongoing as in. Updated in the past month or this month)

Butterfly Reign: You know this one, it's the angst full and oddly yellow one. I always end up finding out it updated a day before it released how does that keep happening?. It's a good read, the characters get deeper the more you read it, and yet even with all their hidden lore and ok ish intentions I still want them to suffer because I'm a spiteful bitch. Unreliable narrator to you I believe him.

In the name of the fucking moon: Its a magical girls AU with the benchers and the family, more on the old school monster of the week type of magical girls but with continuity. If you imagine the scenes in your head while reading please add an 80's anime filter over it. Fun to read 👍 I got halfway through and I'm waiting for it to finish so I can binge it.

Guided evolution: Only read this if you have a lot of free time or the time management skills of a lawyer because this here is 300.000+ words and incredibly good. Every chapter I do nothing but worry for my spider son. Hasn't he been through enough I ask, while seeing I'm on chapter 52 out of 75. I know the answer, and it only serves to hurt me.

How to be the biggest trainer ever: Crimeboys go in a pokemon adventure. A very friendly fun read, like the pokemon anime but with your favourite white boys having fun 👍the world is set on gen 1 I think, so use that soundtrack

The stars and their children: Ive only read till chapter 5 and that's enough to know its good (also the fact that I follow the author here on tumblr so I get spoiled every once in a while hehe) This one is more sandduo focused and it has cool sci fi monarchy and it's also very near to end?? I didn't know that. Guess I'll get up to date then. Star tommy did nothing wrong I haven't seen him do much of anything but if he does in the other 19 chapters be aware he did nothing wrong

By the morrow: this one is weird and interesting in the most enticing way possible. What the fuck is going on. I must know all the reasons behind what is happening here. It can be quite macabre so be aware. I only found this one because the author posted the updates to tumblr. Oh yeah the synopsis, superhero au where the ctommy is a nobody who dies and fucks around the town in his ghost form but shit hits the fan incredibly quickly.

Who the ever loving fuck made me a prince: Its an Isekai yipee, our main boy (el ctommy) reads a book where a kid prince dies. L. Then he wakes up as that same kid!!! Oh no!!! Good news is he's reincarnated right in baby zone so he has plenty of time and skill to make sure won't die 👍, its fun, if you like isekais and don't mind some anime trope baby ism then you will live another day

Proof that life hates tommyinnit personally: This is a mystery!!! Spooky!! With touches of angst, perhaps more than some touches but hey the thrill!! The search!! I enjoy the use of the "it's not paranoia if they're really put to get you" tag. Its one of those fics that if it ever gets dropped I would go to the authors house to ask how was it supposed to end. I need. To know. Oh yeah summary: el ctommy is homeless and has many friends in a local mall who don't know that. This is only one (1) of his problems as he's recently gained a stalker, and everything points to being someone he knows ?? Question mark?? Fun.

TommyInnit's Declassified Vigilante Survival Guide: Ah a good old vigilante fic, just like mama used to make. it checks all the marks: benchtrio living together, villain sbi, when the family is founded, heroes yet bad?? and introducing a cool new power to the boy, what a joy! It is funny and it is cool

Our love it's like a burning sun: you've heard of racconinnit, birdinnit, ratinnit, cat shifter innit, possumi- hm I haven't heard that actually, anyways get ready for Red Panda innit, here's a red panda shifter who runs away from mean kingdom and goes to nice kingdom where he can find some family. And sometimes that's all you need to face the horrors

Thunder on my bones: ANOTHER superhero au listen man this one is good trust me. We have superhero boy being sidekick to mean superhero then gets moved to nice family of superheroes and the family is found :)) but also there's villains that want to fuck him up , uh oh! How will they found the family in this conditions! I also really like the design of the tommy superhero outfit, it has a really nice detail that I love imagining in my head ^^

There are more but these are long and easy to get into

[gothark]

Books I've read in July 2024

And what I thought about them:

The Husky And His White Cat Shizun Vol 1 - I looked at a problematic person and said 'yes, you. i will keep you' no joke though I breezed through this one, so invested like wdym????

5 Stars

The Borrow a Boyfriend Club - literally based on 'what if everyone was a stereotype' and I really wanted the characters to be more than that? and they were, but all that got added was that they were all fucking mean

DNF

The Sky Blues - really didn't like it at the beginning but I didn't want to DNF another book right away so I continued and I think I liked it more at the end? Might just have taken me hostage instead though. Cheesy.

3.75 Stars

Tadek and the Princess - Follow up Novella to 'A Taste of Gold and Iron' and it made me bawl my eyes out. i was ugly sobbing, such a good exploration of grief and not allowing yourself to feel that grief. chefs kiss.

5 Stars

The Lightning-Struck Heart - I just couldn't get into this one. Maybe me and T.J. Klune just don't mix but this kind of humor goes from kinda funny to really fucking annoying in like 4 chapters.

DNF

Reforged - I just got over A Taste of Gold and Iron and this punted me right back into it, very similar feel but also different? I dunno how to explain it but if you liked one of these you will probably like the other one too. This just missed that slight spark to make it amazing.

4.75 Stars

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories - Jesus fucking Christ. Like. WHAT. I hated this, this is legit the worst book I've ever read. If you like stories that sexualise the abuse of women at the hands of men in literally every single story this is the book for you. Maybe I'm just stupid but none of these stories gave women any agency, everything was just done TO them. Hard no. Gross.

0.25 Stars

She Who Became The Sun - Holy Shit. My beloved. Actually just my favorite fucking book ever. Like Shelley??? Hello??? How did you write this masterwork? Still can't decide if Zhu or Ouyang is my beloved (it's Ouyang) Pls, everyone read this. i'm keeping the second book in the series for dark times.

5 Stars

The Past Is Red - It was fine? I didn't like the guy, whatever his name was, i didn't like the rift between the silly names for things and the at times really horrific things going on?? the reveal at the end felt kind of cheap and unbelievable.

2.25 Stars

MADK Vol 1 - Insane? like... wtf did I just read? homoerotic cannibalism the manga. i was intrigued though and the art is really pretty??? (help)

4 Stars

MADK Vol 2 - i have no clue what's going on anymore, i'm just here for the ride. things are happening and my last brainvell has left the chat

4 Stars

The Fragile Threads of Power - CONFLICTED. I liked it? the world is really interesting? the problem was the 50 different pov's and that i really like some of those characters and really disliked others. i was also a little confused at the beginning because this was the first book i read in this universe (which you totally can do, everything you might be missing gets explained)

4.25 Stars

Herald of the Witch's Mark - i thought this was the last book in the series but it wasn't and i was lowkey so glad to be finished with the series because we have a serious love/hate relationship going on. i'm also just not the biggest fae person I've realised. oopsies.

3 Stars

Red Rising - my god, this is so good. completely changes it's vibe like halfway into the book and i'm all for it??? darrow is fucking insane, batshit crazy. this man will lead me to an early grave and I will THANK HIM FOR IT. he is my favorite frat bro who does murder in space. right after she who became the sun in my fave book rankings.

5 Stars

The Lightning Thief - I read the first five books once as a child and man this just hit such a good nostalgia spot, it also has none of the bad taste that harry potter does and this was just such a nice and easy read. like a nice rainy day in a warm blanket. would recommend.

5 Stars

The Extraordinaries - I actually started reading this at the end of 2023 and that should basically say everything. So technically this is my first TJ Klune, not Lightning-Struck Heart but I gave up on it after. Microwaving a cricket to make it radioactive to gain super powers was just too much. also the main character? felt kind of offensive if he was supposed to be a character with autism because no way in hell would any real person actually be like this

DNF

A Darker Shade of Magic - We have the problem here, I like the world but the pov characters are the ones I did not like in Threads of Power (lila) i'm sorry, i just don't vibe with her personally overall a good book though?

4 Stars

Shadow and Bone - man it just took too long to get to the reveal, once again i didn't really vibe with any of the characters (except for mal) and i want to punt the Darkling to the dark side of the moon

3.75 Stars

The Sea of Monsters - what can I say? i'm a sucker for greek mythology so this is just really my thing and it's just such a nice break to take between other books, also the twist at the end? i love that shit lol

5 Stars

Firefly Lane - so this book was basically taking the blueprint for the life of the typical midwest, american white women (maybe a little extra shitty life) and it's this book. it feels like going down a check list. young girls getting sexually assaulted? check. young girls getting with older men? getting pregnant when it wasn't planned? having a miscarriage? getting married to the guy who liked your best friend before he liked you? surprise twins? (being a bad mom lol) but that works for some people, just not really some gay guy who thinks marriage and children are kind of icky (personally, for me) also the parts where it was heavily implied that the one women was only unhappy because she had her dream job but no husband or children??? so ew. the ending got me though because cancer runs in the family. oh also just way too fucking long. needs to be like 40% shorter, so boring for so much of the time

3.5 Stars

[ahdriking]

A03 wrapped 3 and 29

Love you Ames! Prepare yourself for some unnecessarily LONG and introspective answers 😂

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Blue Blood. Probably goes without saying 😂 however! I'll pick from my one shots too! Of all of them Make Me Come Undone stands out the most. AND I'LL TELL YOU WHY.

It's not just that it's SUPER long, it's not just that it has more orgasms/orgasm descriptions than any other fic I've written, it's not just that it's super fucking kinky and I still kinda blush when thinking about it- it's that it was fucking hard. Sometimes when writing fic it's a straight shot from start to finish, you feel inspired from the get go and that carries you to the end. But other times? You run out of steam. And you feel like giving up. And it gets really difficult.

Make Me Come Undone started off as a side project to refresh me from Blue Blood, as a gift fic for @kissporsche (who was very stubborn about giving me kinks, she was all "but I'll love anything you write!!"). The motivating, main kink I eventually got her excited about was "overstimulation and punishment" and everything else was kinda up in the air. I was keen to start it, inspired to explore it. But I ran out of steam after 500 words. Maybe it was the intimidating factor of knowing how many orgasms I'd have to creatively and non-repetitively describe, or maybe it was the fact that it was meant to be reasonably short but the finish line just kept getting further and further and further away, making progress feel stagnant. I don't know! All I know is that eventually I was at the point of having to either decide to abandon it temporarily, or force myself to knuckle the fuck down and do it. You can probably guess which one I went with 😂

The writing process was a constant game of oh we're at 3k? Probably well over halfway. Oh we're at 6k? Uhh I'm sure it'll wrap up soon. Shit 9k? What the hell is happening?? 12k??? This is getting out of hand???? 15k??????? WHAT HAVE I DONE. Honestly, after we hit 7k mark and I realised there was still so much I wanted to explore, the rest of the process was just laughing hysterically while tears streamed down my face.

As soon as it was finished, I wanted to just post it and move on (it was SUPER DIFFICULT not immediately shoving it under Kissporsche's nose, because she's my beta/muse and I crave her approval ahah) because I'm not a huge fan of editing- I'll give every fic a once over, and when it's really important (like blue blood) I'll invest serious time into it, but I prefer to be diligent during the writing process and re-read/edit sections as I go so that I don't really have to. I also tend to rely quite heavily on my betas 😂 But Make Me Come Undone had gotten to be so big, so fucking monumental, that I couldn't stand the thought of having done SO MUCH work on it, only for it to end up sub-par because I couldn't be bothered to edit. So I sent out a call on the discord to see if anyone would be up for reading it, because @kissporsche wasn't allowed to see it till it was done.

@mortimerlatrice volunteered, and I was like awesome! It's always a little scary getting someone to beta for you the first time--because you never know if your styles will clash, or if they'll be able to work in line with your vision, or if they'll invest as much love/care/energy into it as you want from them-- but I had a good feeling about Mort, who's art I adored. And then do you know what happened? This stunning individual, this saint, this god, went through all 15k with a fine toothed comb like they were being paid to do it. They murdered my commas, tidied my grammar, challenged my repetitions, suggested improvements, provided entertaining commentary, HIGHLIGHTED IT LIKE AN ENGLISH REPORT, poured over each section individually and collectively, re-read it at least 4-5 times, answered all my questions, investigated all my concerns, and spent fucking hours doing it. I was not only blown away by their dedication and competence, but I was personally humbled by their attention to detail and desire to make the fic the best version of itself that it could be. It had been my intention to have Mort edit it, integrate their changes/suggestions, and post it. But after I got that first draft back, I literally couldn't. There was just too much more that could be done to improve the fic, and after all the work Mort had done, I couldn't not do it. So, instead I religiously went through the whole damn thing again, picked Mort's brain relentlessly for various ideas/improvements, genuinely restructured entire sections, spent time meticulously investigating the dynamics/continuity for quality and consent-levels control, and just generally fucking worked some damn magic on that fic over the course of 2 more days, passing it back and forth with Mort, until it was done.

Editing Make Me Come Undone was the longest, most meticulous and most arduous refinement process than I have ever committed to for a single fic. So not only had it been quite challenging and taxing to write, but it had been a monumental effort to edit as well! But I tell you what. When Mort and I finally finished that last edit, and I could sit back and look at the whole thing completely, I have never felt more fucking proud of a fic. I was genuinely, deeply impressed with it. Normally, when publishing fics, there's always a part of me that thinks it could probably be better, or that maybe it isn't really that great, that's just a natural part of my nerves. But with this fic? I have never felt so absolutely, unabashedly confident that it was amazing. I was 100% happy with it. That was the reason I called it my magnum opus- not just cos it was impressively long, but because it truly is the most professionally, dazzlingly perfected fic I've ever written.

Basically tl;dr Make Me Come Undone was a hell of a project, but thanks to the magical talents of @mortimerlatrice, and with a little bit of extra effort on my behalf, it truly feels like the most high quality fic I feel like I've ever written.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I'm really terrible at these kinds of questions, cos I don't fuckin remember what I've written most of the time 😂 I remember having moments where I'm writing something and I feel moved by it, or amused by it, or excited about the layers to it, but I cannot for the life of me recall any off the top of my head. The one exception to this is "Better to dance with the devil than wait with god on your dance card" cos @kissporsche specifically pointed that out during their edit 😂

I'd be curious to know though if anyone does have any favourite lines of mine that come to mind? It's always really inspiring to see what impacts people!

Anyway, if you've made it this far I'm giving you a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek for being such a cool fan!! I really appreciate you 🥰🥰🥰

[starshapedkookie]

Southpaw

pairing: jungkook x female reader (ft. a little sprinkle of namjoon)

genre: childhood friends to lovers, boxer jungkook, college/frat au

includes: swearing, angst, mentions of blood and violence, pining, smut (public/private, unprotected sex, hair pulling, jungkook is big guys, duh), alcohol, smoking weed, jungkook seems like an asshole but he’s really not, OC having a crisis every two seconds, some fluff here and there as well, also this takes place over many months just saying if time gets confusing

premise: Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

word count: 30k (she’s a monster sorry guys) 

quick note: this is my first story back in a year(?) give or take some weeks!! kind of nervous to post & not sure if my writing has declined in anyway but nonetheless here is the beast that has been sitting on my computer since April 2019!! quick disclaimer I don’t know much about boxing so if I get stuff wrong - I apologize!! please enjoy & let me know what you think ❤️happy 7 years BTS!

recommended songs for reading: pray (JRY, RuthAnne), mushroom chocolate (6lack, quin), hallucinate (dua lipa), wus good/curious (partynextdoor)

_____

The evening was slow—after all, it was only a Wednesday. You had just finished serving a table of two—a young man and young woman—presumably on a midweek date. You didn’t recognize either of them which wasn’t surprising considering the campus grossed about 20,000 people. You began to wipe down tables out of boredom, glancing at the clock every two minutes hoping it would jump to when your shift was over in forty-five minutes. Thankfully, you didn’t have much work to do when you got home, but you are wishing to get in bed before 10:30 to get a full eight hours of sleep for your lectures tomorrow—something you had not had in about two months. Most days, like today, you were running on five hours of sleep and five cups of coffee. It wasn’t healthy, you knew that much, but it’s how you had to live your life. Your schedule was too demanding to hit the snooze button multiple times. You had shit to do—and getting your degree was the top priority.

“Y/N,” your coworker, Mark, called your name from behind of the counter.

“Yeah?” You respond.

“Will you come help me clean this out?” He asks you and you nod diligently.

“Of course,” you say, dropping your current task of wiping already clean tables. Mark was the one student that worked here you could stand to be around. He was very much like you in the sense that school came before anything—he too was on a full academic scholarship. He worked here before you, but he made you feel the most comfortable out of everyone. You would consider him a close friend at this point.

The espresso machine was a pain in the ass to clean and did call for two people most of the time. Besides, you would rather smell the remnants of coffee beans than the harsh chemicals of bleach gliding across a table.

“You have much work to do after your shift?” He asks you.

“No, thank god,” you shake your head, “I got most of my shit done between my classes today. You?”

“I have to write a ten page paper by midnight,” he sighs, “And guess how many pages I have started.”

You give him a short glance, “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say zero.”

“Damn right,” he smiles. A short silence between you two ensues before he speaks again, “Oh! Did I tell you I’m graduating early?”

“What? Really?” You look at him and an excited grin plays on his face. “When?”

“Yeah, I spoke to my advisor this afternoon and turns out, the classes I’m taking this semester is all I need for my degree,” he speaks with a relieved tone.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” you say genuinely, “I wish that was me,” you give out a small chuckle.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to keep stressing over this hell-hole,” he laughs, “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

“I feel you on that,” you say, “I’m proud of you nonetheless, you’ve worked your ass off dealing with this scholarship.”

He gives you a small smile in return but it’s broken by the bell ringing from the door, signaling a new customer has decided to come in. Your eyes break from Mark’s and glance over to the door, your head doing a double take.

Your mouth goes dry when you see them—more specifically—him. 

No, it wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him outside of a frat party on the weekends. And truly, it was your first time getting a good look at him in awhile. You felt nervous—though you had no reason to be nervous. You had known him since long before your days as university students, but since you weren’t plastered in this scenario, looking at him seemed more like a chore than ever.

“You want me to get their table?” Mark asks you and you look back at him.

“No, I got it,” you say, throwing down the cleaning cloth, wiping your hands on your apron.

The small group of boys are too busy in their own conversation to see you approaching them. You clear your throat before grabbing some menus off of the podium.

“Hey guys, welcome,” your voice breaks their conversation. The three men your age turn to you all at once and a small smile erupts from one of them.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you worked here?” Taehyung—another person you knew all too well—smiles and speaks brightly

“Yup,” you say simply, “Just been here a little over a month,” you explain pressing the best smile you can muster up. “C’mon, I’ll get you seated and get your order in.”

You lead them towards the back of the small restaurant, seating them in a booth. As they follow you from behind, you can feel their eyes burning into your back and you feel like screaming at the top of your lungs. They sit down and you pass out the menus.

“What would you guys like to drink?” You ask, putting a hand on your hip.

“I’ll take a coke,” Hobi—you remember his name easily as you see him around in a few of your classes.

“Coke as well,” Taehyung says.

“Jungkook?” His name rolls off your tongue and it sounds foreign. You couldn’t remember the last time you had said it, let alone to his face. His brown eyes meet yours and he clears his throat.

“I’ll just take a water,” he finally speaks, his gaze breaking just as fast as it met yours.

“I’ll get those right out,” a grimace spreads on your face and you turn on your heels to fulfill their drink orders. You hadn’t expected the encounter to be so awkward and have so much tension—but what did you expect?

Your relationship with Jeon Jungkook was a strange one to say the least. You had known him longer than anyone you associated with—you meet each other at the tender age of eight in elementary school. You remember that day so vividly.

You had been assigned a seat right beside of him the first day of school. He kept his eyes away from you. Being the energetic child you were, you were expecting him to introduce himself but—he never did. It actually took being in school a whole week to get him to talk to you. You nudged his arm with your elbow and his eyes meet yours for the first time. You smiled at him, “I like your shirt,” to which he responded a small, “Thank you.” He picked at his nails and you smiled at him again, “I’m Y/N,” though he would already know that sitting beside of you. “I’m Jungkook,” he spoke again with a shy smile. That day would change both of your lives—all thanks to you and your mouth that couldn’t shut the hell up.

Four years later, at the age of twelve, Jungkook was your best friend. For four years, he was the one person you had came to all about your problems—he as well. The two of you would complain equally about school, he would complain about his older brother picking on him, you would complain about your younger sister bothering you nonstop—the two of you were more alike in more ways than you could imagine. Despite getting older and more different, you and Jungkook shared the same friend group. You had met a girl named Kim Jennie during a pre-algebra class and Jungkook had met a lively kid named Kim Taehyung—no they weren’t related but you often joked about it. It was nice having another close friend instead of just having Jungkook—especially a girl. You and Jennie had more in common than you and Jungkook and Jungkook and Taehyung and more in common than you two. But—the four of you clicked and you spent nearly everyday with each other.

At sixteen, a lot of stuff had changed. Yes, you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jennie had all remained best friends, but high school was definitely not the same as middle school. You and Jennie joined the tennis team, Jungkook and Taehyung joined the soccer team—Jungkook also joining the baseball team—which kept the four of you more separated than you would have liked. The four of you all sat together at lunch each day, but as each day passed, something felt different with Jungkook. And then, halfway through your second year of high school, the news broke that Jungkook had a girlfriend—a cute girl named Yuna—who was actually older than him by a year. You felt indifferent about it. He didn’t speak to you as much as he used to and he would ditch you, Jennie and Taehyung to hang out with her. It didn’t bother Jennie or Taehyung as much as it bothered you—but then again—you had known him since you were eight and it felt weird not being Jungkook’s number one girl. You hated to say it—but you were jealous and you had no idea why.

Two years had passed, the four of you all eighteen and fully legal now. It was the end of your last year of high school and you could not be more ready to leave. Growing up through high school together, the thought of all of you going to the same university was a dream. The four of you were excited to move on to new things. Jungkook and Yuna had broken up a few months prior, not being able to work through the distance of her being away at college. Jungkook soon started molding back to how he was before—texting you throughout the day, complaining, just being Jungkook—you were happy, happier than when he was with Yuna. It was May when you had received the news that you had been offered a full ride academic scholarship. You cried and cried tears of joy—finally busting your ass for so long had paid off. Jungkook was so proud of you, though he didn’t outwardly show it, the way he looked at you when you had told him was all you needed. Taehyung suggested it—a small celebration of sorts for you—a.k.a. the four of you getting absolutely plastered in his basement. Taehyung had managed to steal some alcohol from his parents and before the four of you knew it, beers had been downed and half a bottle of tequila had been drank. You were laying on the floor, giggling at everything Jennie did, dancing around the room with a bottle of vodka in hand. Jungkook had laid down beside of you, his eyes boring deep onto you. You crane your neck and give him a small smile, not realizing how little space was between the two of you. Jungkook supports himself on an elbow and it was then you had realized how handsome Jungkook had actually become. He spent so long away from you when he was dating Yuna, you didn’t realize how much he had grown into his features. That night—was singlehandedly the best and worst night of your life.

You had no idea what came over you, but you stood up throwing out your hand for Jungkook to take. He grabbed it with no hesitation, him towering over you as your chests touched and it was the closest the two of you had ever been. Jungkook had looked over to Jennie and Taehyung, still drinking and acting stupid, before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the closest bathroom and shutting the door. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you grip his shirt tightly. The next few moments are a blur—Jungkook kisses you—actually kisses you. He gripped your waist tightly, pushing you against the door. A small whine emitted from your lips as he pulled away and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He kissed you again, pulling your thigh up to rest in his hand. This was wrong—so wrong in so many ways. But neither of you stopped until a bang from the other side of the door broke the steamy makeup session.

That night changed everything between you two. Neither of you talked about it ever again. Despite being so drunk to the point of blacking out—you remember every detail—and so did he. That summer, you and Jungkook grew apart. And it was the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Now, at twenty-one, almost through university, you had interacted with Jungkook only a handful of times. You had studied together a few times your freshman year, but after your first year, you could count on your hands how many times you had seen each other. Most of the time, only seeing him at parties with other girls hanging off of him. It was painful to see. Even after 3 years of a drunken kiss in Taehyung’s bathroom, it hurt more than ever to see Jungkook with other girls—but at the same time you didn’t care. You had moved on and so did he. You two were now strangers but your life was good—you didn’t need him like you used to think. And he seemingly didn’t either.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Mark nudged you out of your obnoxiously long reverie and you jumped out of your skin. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You look down and realize that you haven’t taken the three of them their drinks, the ice now watering them down to shit.

“Y-yeah, I’m just tired is all,” you begin to pour out the drinks to get new ones before Mark stops you.

“Here, I’ll handle them,” he says, “You can go home early, it’s fine,” he smiles.

“A-are you sure?” You ask him, not wanting to leave him by himself.

“Yeah, it’s about closing time anyways. Just head out, I’ll close,” he nods with a smile and you can’t help but to throw you arms around him.

“Jesus, thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you one day,” you tell him pulling away. You wash your hands quickly and throw off your apron.

“Get home safe,” he says and you tell him the same before grabbing your bag. You glance one last time to the table in the back and unexpectedly, Jungkook is staring at you. It makes your breathing hitch and you turn around on your heel quickly, not wanting to linger on his gaze longer than you need to.

_____

The weekend comes slower than you would like, but it’s Friday which means one thing—time to go out and get a much needed dose of social life. You and Jennie had found yourself at the Beta Tau Sigma crush party at their fraternity house that evening.

“Here you go, m’lady,” Namjoon comes into your peripheral vision, handing you a drink he specially made just for you.

“Thanks,” you give him a small smile. You take a huge gulp without hesitation—you trusted Namjoon with your life. Not only was he on academic scholarship too, he was also the president of this fraternity which meant if he didn’t act straight—he would face serious consequences. The mix of brains, being ridiculously handsome, and being in a fraternity was a recipe for disaster—he was your type—bonafide. You were his type too which is maybe why the two of you clicked so well, particularly in bed.

“My feet are fucking killing me,” you groan glancing down at your heels, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Namjoon throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“At least you look hot as fuck,” he lips brush against your ear and you give him a glare.

“Isn’t hot kind of a degrading term in today’s world?” You press.

He narrows his eyes at you, “Fine—you look beautiful, cute, sexy—is that better?”

“Much better,” you nod playfully and Namjoon gets bold—pulling you even closer to him for a small peck on your lips. Eyes linger on the two of you but you couldn’t care. So many girls would love to be in your position and you feel lucky to have captivated Namjoon at least for now. Besides, he was good at fucking and you needed stress relief, as did he.

Unsuspecting, Jungkook waltzed his way into the room and he immediately stops when he sees the sight of you and his older brother Namjoon. He had heard rumors about the two of you, which he brushed off—you would never go after someone like Namjoon—oh who is he kidding? You and Namjoon are the same person and it kills Jungkook inwardly. The way Namjoon is nuzzled into your neck and the way you're smiling, giggling to every word he says, makes him feel uncomfortable. You looked so different at parties than how he saw you a few days ago at your work. Your legs looked sexy as fuck in your short black dress, your hair flowed down beautifully as opposed to being thrown up, the way red lipstick painted your mouth made him semi hard. Jesus, how after all this time, does he still think about you like this?

Your eyes break away from Namjoon and your smile falls when they meet a familiar set of doe eyes from across the room. Your breath hitches and Jungkook looks so handsome you want to die. His dark hair is slightly parted, his button up is undone at the top, and his legs fulfill his pants better than any guy here. He downs two shots, not breaking his gaze from you. You feel intimidated by his gaze and presence, despite having seen him at these things multiple times. The only difference is that now—he’s giving you some attention that you weren’t ready for.

Your gaze breaks away from each other when a group of loud boys—including Taehyung as well as Kai, another brother within the fraternity—come rushing into the room, hauling a keg in tow.

“Hyung! Come on,” Taehyung teases drunkenly as they set down the keg. There are many hyung’s for Taehyung in the room to not have specified which one he was talking about, until he deadpans on Namjoon. “Namjoon-hyung, come on!”

Namjoon begins to shake his head in protest, “I’d rather not,” he puts his hands up, keeping his distance from Taehyung, “Gotta keep an eye on this one tonight,” he nudges you and Taehyung’s eyes widen when her realizes it’s actually you, standing beside of his older brother.

“Y/N! Hey! What’s up! Didn’t expect to see you here, especially with this one again,” he narrows his eyes to Namjoon.

“Hi Taehyung,” you give him a small smile.

“Do a keg stand with me?” His eyes bulge out like a puppy dog and your own widens in shock at the question.

“Oh no,” you protest, looking up at Namjoon, “Last time I did a keg stand was freshman year and I said never again,” you explain to him. He gives you a pout.

“Fuck,” Taehyung says, “Well who is gonna do this shit with me then?” He sounds impatient and frustrated.

“Get Jungkook too—he’s been looking over in this direction for too long, give ‘em something to do,” Namjoon says and you look up at him. Did he notice Jungkook looking at you? Shit.

“Hell yeah, that little shit will definitely do it,” Taheyung smirks and yells for Jungkook to come over. Jungkook is preoccupied with a girl before Taehyung breaks his mojo from across the room. Jungkook sees Taehyung and you standing together and he furrows his eyebrows. He excuses himself from his pussy date for the night and saunters his way over towards your direction. You keep your eyes anywhere but Jungkook as he approaches you.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook greets Namjoon, “Y/N,” he says slowly and you tense up. “What do you want Taehyung?” He spits out. He’s clearly buzzed as the attitude coming off of his tongue is stronger than usual.

“Do this fucking keg stand with me pussy,” Taehyung presses and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

“Fuck no,” Jungkook responds and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“Come onnnn,” he drags out, begging his life long best friend to do it.

“Absolutely not, I’ve done it once and I said never again,” Jungkook says and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. Taehyung looks at you and Jungkook and shakes his head.

“I swear you two are the same person in a different body, it’s weird,” Taehyung says, “Your loss,” and Taehyung is soon leaving your side to find someone else to do his proposition.

Jungkook is left standing in front of you and Namjoon in an awkward silence.

“Don’t forget, you’re on clean up duty Jeon,” Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the younger man.

Jungkook groans, “Fine, whatever hyung,” his words run together as he gives you a final glance, “See you later Y/N,” is the last thing he says before he walks away to find the girl he was smooching up prior.

Namjoon gives you a weird look before you are furrowing eyebrows at him, “What?” You ask.

“What’s up with you two?” He asks motioning over to Jungkook.

“What do you mean?” You gulp down your drink hoping to hide the nervousness in your tone.

“Didn’t you two use to be like, best friends or some shit?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, when we were kids,” you chuckle.

Namjoon doesn’t seemed convinced, “I remember you two hanging out a lot during Jungkook's freshman year here, what happened?”

You shrug once again, “People grow apart,” you answer simply, not wanting to go in detail how one kiss basically ruined whatever your friendship was with him. Namjoon suddenly smiles, a dimple showing in his left cheek.

“You know he talks about how hot you are? Not all of the time, but I’ve heard it before,” he laughs and you freeze in your spot.

“What are you trying to prove by interrogating me Joon?” You say with some attitude. That was the least thing you expected to come out of his mouth.

“Hey, I’m just asking questions!” He defends himself, “I just didn’t know if something happened between you two—like you dated or something and shit got weird, I don’t know… just curious,” he chuckles a bit.

You eyes widen and you feel yourself getting warm, “Oh no, we never dated or…anything like that…” you trail off. “We’ve just grown apart, we’re too different now.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you, “According to Taehyung you two are the same person.”

You glare at him, “Get me another drink,” you shove your cup into his hand and see laughs at you before sauntering away for a few seconds. He comes back with a full glass and you down half of it in a few seconds.

“Ew,” you scrunch up your nose. Nice, you think to yourself.

“Maybe you should talk to him? I’m sure having an old friend is nice every once in awhile,” Namjoon continues, clearly interested in your history with Jungkook.

“I have Jennie,” you answer, “Besides, conversation goes both ways. If he really wanted to be friends again, he could talk to me.” You knew that answer was stupid. Jungkook didn’t even speak to you when you were younger. You were the one that initiated the friendship, not him, and you knew that.

“Whatever you say space cowboy,” Namjoon draws out and you give him a glare.

“Did you just quote Kacey Musgraves?” You ask with a small smile on your face.

“Fuck yeah I did,” he smirks, “She’s a gay icon are you kidding me, I’m obsessed with her.”

“Joonie, you’re not even gay,” you laugh.

“So? I love anyone who supports gay rights! Don’t discriminate my quotes!” He defends himself and you cannot help but laugh at him.

“Let’s go dance,” you grab his hand and pull him out of the kitchen onto the main dance floor. Namjoon was perhaps one of the more attractive people you’ve met here in your four years. He oozed sex appeal and charisma, which is why anytime he wanted to hang out or take you to a party—you obliged. If it meant getting in his bed at the end of the night, wearing the heels was worth it.

Namjoon puts his hands on your waist and the two of you dance to music in the crowded dance floor. Namjoon grabs a bottle of liquor from one of his other brothers who you have never met before and the two of you share a nice gulp of the cheap—but very strong—vodka.

You haven’t had too much to drink but you know if you drink anymore, you will not make it back to your apartment. You push the bottle away from you and turn to face Namjoon. His brown eyes stare into yours with a glassy, tipsy appearance, and he smirks at you.

“What?” You question him as his grip gets tighter on you.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you looked hot,” he says smoothly and you roll your eyes yet again.

“How sweet,” you grumble, biting down on your bottom lip. Without a warning, he leans in and pecks your lips gently. The alcohol in your veins surges through you as you lean back in and close the gap. Even in your heels, you still have to crane your neck some to fully reach his stature. His hands grip your waist tightly and you tug at his light brown locks, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

He presses himself into you a little bit harder and you can tell he wants you, his hands gripping one at your waist and the other one in your hair. Everything around you goes blank was it only feels like the two of you in the room together. Unfortunately, your moment is ruined when someone bumps into the two of you, knocking you apart. Namjoon steadies you and he glares at the two girls that ran into you.

“You want to get out of here?” Namjoon says into your ear, his breath fanning over your neck sending chills down you body.

“Yeah,” you nod a little too excitedly and he grabs your hand pulling you away from everyone. Namjoon is taking you up the stairs before someone calls out your name.

“Y/N!” You turn around in Namjoon’s grip to find Jennie holding onto the railing of the stairs, swaying back and forth drunkenly.

“Oh god,” you mutter.

“Is she okay?” Namjoon asks as he follows behind you back down the stairs. No, in fact, she looks terrible.

“Jennie, what’s up? I thought you were with Suzy?” You ask her and her face scowls.

“I was, but then… he showed up,” Jennie says, knowing exactly who she is talking about, “And he brought another girl with him! Y/N, what’s wrong with me? Am I not good enough for him?” Jennie is rambling as tears began to flow down her face. You look at Namjoon as he assesses the situation.

“I-I can get an Uber for her, if you’d like?” Namjoon offers and you nod.

“Please?” You beg and Namjoon grabs your hand squeezing it reassuringly before walking away to get the car.

“Jennie, come on, snap out of it,” you tell her and she continues to sob in your arms.

“Y/N, I don’t get it, I love him and he says he loves me but he does this shit all of the time,” she rambles.

“I know, I know,” you try to calm her down, “Jennie your drunk right now, but you’re so much better than him. I know you don’t realize it, but you are—“

“He makes me feel like shit,” Jennie sighs and you cradle your friend. Unfortunately, Jennie doesn’t have the best taste in men and she finds herself stuck in toxic situations she can’t get out of. You wish you could help more then you do but when Jennie is drunk, it’s hard to get anything through to her.

“Come on, let’s go to the bathroom,” you pull her up before she starts fighting you.

“I don’t need to use the bathroom though,” she pouts.

“Well, you might, let’s go,” you manage to hold her up and get to a bathroom in a hallway that isn’t too crowded. You reach for the handle only to be disappointed that it’s locked. Great.

You beat on the door with your free hand, “Hurry up in there! I have a crisis hanging off of my arm!”

“Hey, don’t call me that you bitch,” Jennie frowns and you roll your eyes, knowing she won’t remember any of this in the morning. You beat on the door again and again and again and finally, someone unlocks it and opens it fully.

The sight makes your eyes widen and your body heat up on fire. In front of you stands Jungkook against the counter zipping up his pants and the girl he was with earlier standing from her knees, wiping her mouth with a smirk. She leaves the bathroom, leaving you standing there with Jennie alone. When his eyes meet yours, his face goes ghostly pale. His mouth parts open and he feels like crawling into a hole to die.

“Y/N, Jennie?” Is all that comes from his mouth.

“Move Jungkook,” you say sternly and he moves to make room for you two in the bathroom.

“Uh, do you need any—“

“Leave Jungkook, I don’t need any help,” you say frustrated at the sight you just witnessed. You don’t know why you felt angry at him. You knew that he slept around like most fraternity boys—but to see him after getting sucked off in a bathroom—was new territory. Not only did it bring up the memory of you and him back in Taehyung’s bathroom all those years ago, it made you physically sick to know that you were just a pawn for him then. Who are you trying to kid? You were nothing to him. Once he figured out what his dick was used for, that’s all he cared about. Christ, you say to yourself, fuck him.

Jungkook leaves the two of you alone and within seconds, Jennie is over the toilet hurling her entire stomach up. You hold her hair back as she heaves into the toilet, trying not to gag yourself.

“Y/N,” she mumbles, “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, just keep it in the toilet please,” you say looking away at the sight.

Thankfully, Namjoon appears at the door. “The Uber is here,” he announces.

“Come on, we’re going to get you home,” you tell her, wiping her mouth with some toilet paper.

“Home?” She asks, “Thank god.”

Namjoon grabs her other side as the two of you carry her outside into the fresh air. You have to admit, the fresh air as sobered you up slightly. You spot the car waiting up front and Namjoon opens the door for Jennie.

“Thank you so much,” you tell Namjoon as he helps Jennie into the car.

“It’s seriously not a problem,” he smiles, “You should go with her,” he suggests and you feel your heart drop.

“A-are you sure?” You ask, subtle disappointment in your tone.

“Yeah, it’s fine—we’ll pick up another time,” he gives you a wink and you smile back.

“Okay, thanks again.”

You load into the back of the Uber with Jennie and you just pray that she doesn’t hurl in the car, for the sake of you and the Uber driver’s car. You were not about to pay the $200 fee for puke in the backseat. 

_____

The next morning comes all too quickly in your deep sleep. When you wake up, you are not expecting Jennie to be in your bed with you. You had nearly forgotten she refused to sleep in her own bed last night, therefore you having to give in to her wishes of sleeping with you. Thankfully, you don’t feel like you have too bad of a hangover. For Jennie though, you know she will probably be in bed all day with a bottle of Tylenol at her bedside.

You check your phone and your eyes nearly burst from your head. It’s 1:07 PM.

“Fuck,” you groan to yourself. You did not need to sleep this late considering you absolutely needed to study for your exams on Monday. Not only was it an exam—it was your midterm exams in your human sciences and financial analytics classes, two classes that were kicking your ass. The longer you laid in your bed, meant the longer you were losing time to cram in your studying. You swig the sheets and blankets off of you to find yourself still in your party dress from last night. You grab a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your wardrobe before heading to the bathroom.

Your appearance makes you shudder when you seeing yourself in the mirror. You didn’t even take off your makeup, mascara and lipstick stains spread out on your face. Now it was time to really pray that you wouldn’t breakout from the old layer of foundation on your face. You grab a makeup wipe to get the gunk off of yourself before you step into an insanely hot shower.

You manage to shower quickly, scrubbing your body and face off of any stench left of you from last night. You step out, moisturizing each crevice that you can reach before you throw on your clothes. You feel 200% better now that you have showered and you can hear footsteps coming down from the hallway. Jennie appears at the bathroom door rubbing her eyes harshly.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” you comment and she stretches out her limbs, her dress hiked up far up her legs where her underwear is showing.

“Ugh!” She groans loudly, “My head is pounding. What the fuck happened last night?”

“There’s some medicine out in the kitchen,” you say as you follow her out into your living room and kitchen area. She goes immediately to the medicine cabinet and downs two pills with ease.

“Where are you going?” She asks as you began to gather up your school work into your book-bag.

“I have to study,” you tell her and she closes her eyes again, the sun being too harsh for the light.

“It’s Saturday Y/N,” she says obviously.

“I know,” you zip up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “But I have two midterms Monday—I can’t make below a B or I can get in trouble with the dean,” you explain and she nods, her sleepy gaze staring at you.

“Well, have fun. I’ll be here—dying,” she grins and you salute her off, leaving your shared apartment to go to the campus library.

The library is only about a ten minute walk and thankfully, not many students are flocking to the location on a Saturday afternoon. You assume that everyone is either hungover like Jennie or just don’t give a shit enough to come out and study.

You grab a coffee from the small coffee shop outside the library before you go in, sit down, and get to work on your studying. You turn on your classical music radio as you take out out your printed slides, notes, and textbooks. As strange as it is to say, as much as you hated studying—it’s where you felt the most comfortable. You knew you were smart and you knew school was your strongest trait—everyone knew that about you.

You go through each chapter of your human sciences class, writing and rewriting notes on new sheets of a paper. You make flashcards as you go along. You answer the obnoxiously long quiz questions at the end of your textbook as you go along. 

Thankfully, you haven’t had any distractions and before you know it, it’s been nearly two hours since you first sat down. Your coffee is now cold but you don’t care as you need the caffeine to keep you going. You are about to pull out all of your analytics material before suddenly, a coffee cup in placed on the table in front of you. You look at the source and look back down until you look up again. 

“Jungkook?” You ask pulling out one of your earbuds. His face is tired, the bags underneath his eyes prominent. He’s wearing a gray tracksuit, his hair messy underneath his somewhat contained beanie.

“H-hi,” he says simply, “Can I sit?” He asks referring to the chair across from you. You nod as he slings his backpack off and into the floor as he plops down in the chair.

“Hi,” you speak lowly. There’s tension between the two of you. It’s uncomfortable. You hate it, almost as much as you hate the sight you saw last night. “What’s up?” The question is simple, but forced.

He shrugs, “I dragged myself out to study despite my busting headache,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

“Jungkook in the library? To study? Did I hear that right?” You ask and he laughs slightly.

“Yup, unfortunately you did,” he answers before letting out a sigh. “I uh, got you this,” he slides the coffee cup over to you and you furrow your brows. You face heats up. Why would he buy you a coffee? The time Jungkook bought you something was a card and flowers the evening of your high school graduation, why the hell would he buy you a coffee?

“Thanks,” you laugh awkwardly grabbing the cup from him. You take a sip from the cup and realize it’s exactly how you like it. Three creams, an espresso shot, and a dash of vanilla flavoring. “How’d you know this is what I like?” You ask.

“Uh, you told me a few years back,” he says shy, his gaze ripping away from you. “I assumed it was the same, thank god,” he laughs trying to lighten up the mood.

“Thanks,” you repeat, unsure of what to say.

“Uh, how’s Jennie this morning?” He asks you with a genuine concern. You look from him, not being able to hold his gaze without burning up.

“She’s fine,” you say, keeping your eyes on your notes and hands in front of you.

“That’s good,” he says awkwardly. His leg is bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and he feels like he needs to throw up.

“Why did you buy me this?” You ask him. He wants something, you can feel it.

“Um, no reason, I-I just saw you h-here and I know how much you love coffee,” he stumbles over his words and you meet his gaze again, before giving him a glare.

“Hm,” you mumble.

“Listen Y/N,” he starts, sounding more clear of his words, “I know we don’t really have a relationship anymore but, I-I just wanted to apologize to you about… the bathroom… last night,” he sighs and he hangs his head down for a second.

Your expression is blank and you shrug your shoulders with a small head shake, “Don’t worry about it.”

He nods slowly before a silence falls between you two.

“Listen, um I really have to get back to studying for my midterm tomorrow. Thank you again for the coffee,” you say with a small smile, trying your best to be cordial with him.

He nods getting ready to stand up but he stops abruptly, “What are you doing this week?”

The question catches you off guard.

“Oh, um,” your mouth is dry and it’s hard to find the words, “Probably studying, working, I don’t know,” you shrug again.

“Well uh, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up?” He bits his lip nervously, “We haven’t hung out in awhile, I thought maybe we could catch up?”

Awhile would be an understatement. The boy and you exchange another glance before you begin to nod hesitantly.

“Sure,” you answer simply.

“Cool,” he responds, “You still have the same number?” He asks. The question is weird. How is it that your best friend of so many years has to ask if your number is the same?

“Yeah,” you nod. He nods too, saying a quick goodbye before you watch as his built frame disappears into another corridor of the library, your eyes lingering a little too long on his built frame. What the hell was that?

_____

On Monday, both of your exams go a lot better than you were expecting them to. Your human sciences exam had already been graded and you made a 94 which in turn meant you were over the moon. Now you could only hope for that in analytics.

You know sat across from Jennie at one of your campus’s sandwich shops eating a late lunch.

“I don’t even know why you stress so much about your grades Y/N,” Jennie says, “You always end up with an A.”

“Jennie, I worry because if I don’t get A’s I can get kicked out of the honors program, you know this,” you say with pointed eyes, “Besides, I made a B in that business statistics class I had my freshman year, I’m still pissed about that!”

“Boohoo, I got a C minus in that class,” Jennie rolls her eyes, “All I’m saying is, you just need to loosen up. I know school is stressful but I know that you have to be going crazy.”

“I am going crazy Jennie,” you whine, “I’m just glad we don’t have much longer,” you sigh heavily.

“You and me both,” she adds, “I’m sorry I interrupted your stress relief the other night,” she says.

“What?”

She laughs, “You almost got dicked down by Namjoon and I ruined it,” she pouts and you giggle at her.

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, “He said we could pick it up another time.”

“Good, his fine piece of ass is something you gotta keep,” she smirks. Suddenly, your phone makes a ding on the table and you grab it quickly. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the text message.

[3:32 PM Jeon Jungkook] hey do you still want to do something this week?

“Who is that?” Jennie asks you.

“Uh, nobody,” you shake your head putting the phone back down.

“It most definitely is not nobody—your eyes are huge,” she points out. Dammit.

“Um,” you start, “Well last week at work, Jungkook, Taehyung, and their friend Hobi came in later at night,” you tell her, “And it was awkward and then I saw Jungkook at the party on Saturday.”

“We see him all the time at the parties we go,” she shrugs.

“I know, but then he came up to me in the library the other day…and bought me a coffee,” you finish.

Jennie’s eyes widen. “What?”

“I know right,” you say.

“Wonder what he wants from you?” She purses her lips.

“He asked if he wanted to go out this week,” you shrug, “He said we haven’t in awhile and he wanted to ‘catch up’,” you say.

Jennie’s eyebrows furrow. “Hm,” she mumbles, “Well are you going to?”

“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, “I think I’ve seen enough of him to last me awhile.”

Jennie grimaces at you, “Come on Y/N,” she says, “You and Jungkook used to be inseparable, I don’t even know what the fuck happened to you two.”

“We just grew apart Jennie,” you tell her.

“Friendships like you and Jungkook don’t just ‘grow apart’,” she uses air quotes.

“Believe what you want,” you mutter, picking at your food suddenly not feeling too hungry.

“Why wouldn’t you go? There’s nothing stopping you is there?” She presses.

“Not exactly, but… I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” you mumble.

“Y/N, he’s your oldest friend,” she says, “You’ve known him longer than anyone else here, I know that you miss him as your friend,” she goes on.

“I don’t know Jennie, we’re not the same people we used to be. We’re not compatible as friends anymore, it’s weird.”

“How can it already be weirder than it is now? It’s weird as fuck that you two grew up together and don’t speak to each other anymore. I’d say go, just hangout, who knows what might happen,” she reasons and you cannot help but agree with her.

You don’t say anything else as you pull your phone back out.

[3:38 PM Me] Yeah I’m free tonight if you want to do something!

_____

Jungkook picks you up at seven on the dot. You feel nervousness settling in your stomach and you suddenly care about your appearance. When you open the door of your apartment and welcome him in, you have to tell yourself to keep your mouth closed.

He’s dressed in a sweatshirt and ripped jeans but he looks…so good? You hope you aren’t overdressed in your dress and denim jacket and he smiles when he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” he greets you and you welcome him into your apartment—a place he has never been.

“Hi,” you say grabbing your keys from the kitchen. “Jennie!” You shout and she emerges from the laundry room

“Yeah?” She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Jungkook. “Oh, hey Jungkook.”

“Hi,” he smiles.

“I’ll be back later,” you tell her, “What are you doing tonight?”

“I have to write a report and I guess I’m going to do your laundry since you’re lazier than shit,” she presses. You throw up your middle finger and turn to Jungkook.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

_____

“Where are we going?” You ask him as you make your way outside, keeping a relative distance between you and him.

“You hungry?” Jungkook proposes, almost with a playful tone.

“Mhm,” you mumble, looking down at the ground as you walk. This was weird… so fucking weird. The last time you and Jungkook had hung out was around two and a half years ago—not even shitting. You wonder if he still liked the same things, had the same hobbies, ate the same food, but you were completely unsure of yourself in this circumstance. The nervousness hasn’t settled in your stomach and your mind wonders if he’s nervous too.

“Alright, c’mon,” he says and you meet his gaze before he changes direction with you in tow.

It’s not even a five minute walk—mind you, in silence—until we reach the place Jungkook had led you to.

“Really Jungkook?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you step into your all too familiar work place.

“What?” He laughs, “The food is good,” he continues.

“I’m starting to think you brought me here for my employee discount,” you press to him and he tilts his head.

“You have an employee discount?” He repeats, “Good to know,” he chuckles and in turn, you return a small laugh, feeling a little more comfortable.

Mark isn’t working tonight, but unfortunately, a girl named Kyla is and you absolutely despise her. Her biggest personality trait is just being a bitch—a bitch for no reason! Sure, you can have your bitchy moments but you’re not going to be a bitch to someone unless they deserve it.

“Y/N… Jungkook,” Kyla says slowly, looking between the two of you. “Just sit wherever you like,” she says. The restaurant is free real estate as you two are the only ones here.

You choose a booth, sliding in on one side, Jungkook on the other.

“Do you know her?” You ask Jungkook once she walks away from your table.

Jungkook looks pale, “I’ve met her, once or twice,” he says and it’s all the confirmation you need to understand that means he’s fucked her once or twice.

You don’t say anything else as you look through the menu, already knowing exactly what you want.

“When did you start working here?” Jungkook asks you.

“Oh, about a month ago,” you say. He already knows that. I guess you and Jungkook are really too that point, huh? Small, dull, repetitive conversation?

“How did your exams go?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s nervous—you can sense it.

“Better than I thought,” you answer honestly.

“Hm, let me guess—you thought you did terrible but ended up getting an A,” he reads you perfectly.

“Hey! I don’t think like that,” you say even thought you know that is a fat lie.

“Come on Y/N, you’ve been that way since we were fourteen. Lying sends you to hell you know,” he raises an eyebrow at you and you look away from him to suppress your laugh.

“Fine. I got a 94 on one of them, I don’t know about the other one yet,” you tell him.

“See, you’re a genius,” he says and you shake your head.

“Most definitely not,” you say.

“I was always so envious of you growing up, you just sat there in school and you just… got it,” he says remembering back to your younger days, “All of us were jealous of you,” he adds.

“I can guarantee nobody was jealous of me Jungkook,” you give him a grimace, “We all were stupid in our own ways, maybe you more than anyone else,” you decide to pick on him since you’re feeling more relaxed as the conversation keeps going.

“Hey, no need to shit on me like that,” he gives you a pout.

Your phone suddenly vibrates against the table. It’s probably Jennie, you think to yourself as you flip the phone over. To your surprise, it’s not Jennie—It’s Namjoon.

[7:28 PM Kim Namjoon] hope you had a good day

[7:29 PM Kim Namjoon] mine would be a lot better if you were sitting on my cock right now

Your eyes widen and you flip the phone back over with a slam to the table. Jungkook looks at you curiously.

“Whose that?” He asks.

You want to lie, but Jungkook can tell when you’re lying. “Just Namjoon,” you tell him, “He was asking about some homework.”

Jungkook nods slowly before chewing on his bottom lip again, “You and hyung are good friends?”

Your face drops and you don’t say anything.

“I’m just asking since I’ve seen you guys together at our parties,” he adds while clearing his throat.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” is all that comes from your mouth. Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read but you can tell he knows you’re not saying what you’re actually thinking. What he wants you to do is be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you and Namjoon fuck from time to time, but of course, he doesn’t get that answer.

About twenty minutes later, Kyla is bringing your food.Your stomach growls as the scent of the food comes into your nostrils. The two of you begin eating, keeping some small talk between the two of you.

“Are you still a business major?” You ask him as you chow down on your French fries loaded with ketchup.

Jungkook scrunches his face up, “Hell no,” he shakes his head.

You stop your chewing momentarily, “Oh,” is all you can muster. “I’m sure that went over well with your father.”

Jungkook gives you a short glance, a smirk across his face, “It went as well as you can imagine.”

Growing up, Jungkook was expected to go to college, get a business degree of some kind and him and his older brother were to takeover his father’s company by the time he was 30—you would know, Jungkook would secretly complain to you about nonstop as teenagers.

“What are majoring in now?”

“Photography and film,” he answers boldly.

“Oh, wow,” you tell him, “That’s a big move.”

“I’d rather die than being forced to do something I don’t want to do, that’s no way to live life,” he munches on his burger, his eyes looking straight into yours.

“How’s Taehyung?” You ask him.

“He’s good,” he laughs a little bit, “Would you believe it if I told you he has a girlfriend?” He cocks his head slightly.

“Taehyung? And a girlfriend?” You say in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he chuckles, “It’s weird though, he won’t introduce me to her, hell he won’t even tell me her name.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “That is weird,” you pause, “Maybe he thinks you’ll steal her,” you smirk jokingly. 

Jungkook shakes his head, “Taehyung’s got more game than I do, trust me,” he says with a laugh. 

“I’m assuming you don’t have a girlfriend?” You ask him nervously, biting down on your bottom lip.

Jungkook stops eating and rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek, “No, I haven’t dated anyone since Yuna really.”

The confession surprises you and you somewhat don’t believe him.

“Why not?” You press.

He shrugs, “Just haven’t found anyone I like I guess, like, really like, you know?”

You nod understandingly. Before Namjoon (whom you aren’t even dating) you had dated this guy for awhile and he was nice but you were bored as fuck in that relationship. Thankfully, you moved on from that onto better things.

Once the two of you finish your meals, Jungkook pays before you can protest and you leave the restaurant around 8:30 PM. You shove your hands into your jacket and walk along beside of Jungkook, lazily kicking rocks when you come across them.

“So, what did I do to deserve a free meal and a coffee from Jeon Jungkook in the span of two days?” You look up at him and he glances down to you quickly.

“I said I wanted to catch up, how else was I supposed to do that?” He smirks and you hit his arm playfully.

You don’t say anything so he continues.

“I don’t know, it’s just when I saw you last week working, I hadn’t seen you in so long… let alone speak to you,” he pauses, “It made me realize that I miss our friendship, I missed us…” he trails off, looking straight ahead.

“Why didn’t you reach out sooner?” You ask him seriously.

Jungkook hesitates some, “You could have reached out too, the phone works both ways” his words are unexpected, harsh. And they somewhat hurt.

You don’t say anything again, feeling a sting in your chest.

“I didn’t mean it like that Y/N,” Jungkook say, stopping his path to stand in front of you, “It’s just… we haven’t spoken in so long. I feel like you’re a completely different person ever since we got here to university. I don’t know what happened—“

“You don’t know what happened?” Your tone is sharp. “Are you stupid Jungkook?”

He looks taken aback, “W-what?”

“When we were eighteen and you fucking kissed me that’s what happened and that’s when shit changed Jungkook, don’t act like you don’t know,” you sound angry to which, you are. Talking about this gets you riled up.

Jungkook lowers his head, “We should have talked about that, I know but—“

“But what Jungkook? It ruined our friendship and you know it.”

“I ruined it?” He now sounds pissed off. “What ruined our friendship was you acting like I didn’t exist once we got here to college. You blew me off and blew me off time and time again,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I tried to maintain this friendship and you know it. If that stupid, fucking, drunken kiss bothered you that bad, you should have been a big girl and told me.”

You feel frustrated and you feel tears are threatening to spill out of you. You want to comeback with something, but you know he’s right. He did try and you were the one to put distance between you both.

“I-I,” you start but no words come out. “I’m sorry Jungkook. It’s just when we got here, things got more complicated and more stressful, and I couldn’t afford distractions—“

“So I’m a distraction now?”

“What? No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” you shake your head in protest.

“So, hanging out at fraternity houses every weekend, getting hammered with Jennie every weekend, smoking pot once in awhile, and fucking Namjoon isn’t a distraction? But your best friend of fourteen years is a distraction?” Jungkook’s words come out in a frenzy and you feel slightly attacked.

“Excuse me what? Jungkook no—“ you stop yourself from speaking. You know he’s right but that doesn’t give him a right to attack you like that. “So, what’s your excuse then for not being the bigger person than, huh? Getting sucked off too many times in a bathroom and you realized you don’t need my attention anymore? Huh?”

Jungkook’s eyes darken and you can tell he’s pissed off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asks you.

“Jungkook, you’re my oldest friend—“

“You don’t treat me like it—“

“Well neither do you,” you back go back and forth with each other. You’re frustrated. Angry. Sad.

Jungkook is fighting a battle in his head. “I’m sorry okay,” he says, “I think we both can admit we’ve acted shitty to each other.”

You look away from him staring aimlessly at your lap, “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Neither should have I,” he says. “I just wish you had told me about that stupid kiss, we could have talked through it Y/N. I wasn’t thinking back then.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Jungkook’s eyes look panicked and he scratches the back of his neck.

“I had a stupid little crush on you at the time okay? And alcohol doesn’t help, it only intensified my feelings.”

“What?” Your mouth drops agape at the confession.

“I know, stupid right,” he shakes his head, “Fuck I wished we had discussed this sooner because this is so embarrassing,” he laughs while shaking his head.

You’re in disbelief. Jungkook liked you? How did you not know? It makes your insides tingle at the thought, but you know you shouldn’t get excited so you drown out the feeling deep within you. 

“Well, that was years ago,” you tell him, “All we can do now is look ahead,” your breath is uneven and shaky.

“You’re right,” he mutters, “I really am sorry Y/N, I-I just want you as a friend again—“

“I forgive you Jungkook. And I’m sorry too.”

What Jungkook does next is unexpected but all too familiar. He grabs your chin and squeezes it in his hand. You swat him away with a laugh as he pulls you in by an arm. You oblige his movements and rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you keep walking. There’s something oddly intimate about this gesture. And the whole atmosphere has changed but you like it—it feels… like home.

“Can I ask you something?” You mumble.

“You just did,” he laughs and his chest rumbles underneath you.

“Shut the fuck up,” you lean up from him with a smile, “Namjoon said you talk about me a lot…?” You trail off your question. You could be sneaky if you really wanted to be.

“He did?” Jungkook panics. Fucking Namjoon, he thinks to himself. “W-what did he say?” He stumbles on his words.

“Just stuff,” you respond hesitantly, “He may or may not have said that you called me hot.” Jungkook freezes beside of you.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna kill hyung,” he mutters underneath his breath, “Look I’m sorry okay—I was really drunk and I saw you at one of our parties in this short ass dress and fuck, yeah I said you were hot—I’m sorry okay? I know that’s so fucking weird jeez, I’m sorry—“

“Jungkook it’s fine,” you laugh interrupting his rambling. “It’s not weird, I just wanted to know whether or not Namjoon was feeding me shit.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” He asks and you can sense that he is very embarrassed. “I told you, I’m not good with my alcohol.”

You shake your head, “I mean, you’re pretty hot too if I say so myself,” the words tumble from your mouth and you actually want to crawl in a hole and die. Did you just say that?! Jungkook looks at you as you turn your face away from him. Fuck, he thinks to himself. He glances down your body and notices the cleavage coming through your dress and the way you hair is pulled to one side. Fuck, he thinks again, yeah, stupid little crush three years ago my ass.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice his quiet, serious.

“Of course,” you look up at him with a concern face.

“You can’t tell anyone—not even Jennie,” he says, his voice low. You give him a confused look, but nod anyways.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him. He bits at his lip, feeling uneasy.

He takes in a deep breath before exhaling, “When I changed my major a few months back, my parents threatened to cut me off—“

“Whoa, what?”

“And they’re still threatening to if I don’t get my shit straight.”

“Jungkook, I don’t get what you’re saying? Have you done something?” You ask him, feeling already too uneasy about where this conversation is going.

“No, I haven’t done anything—that’s the problem. I haven’t proved to them that I’m worthy for them to keep paying for my school. I haven’t proved to them that I can get a job somewhere. My grades aren’t proving anything to them.”

“What are you gonna do if they cut you off? You can’t pay for this shit-hole by yourself—they know that.” You notice the way his jaw is grinding and his breathing is shaking.

“Please don’t get mad at me,” he mumbles quietly. Oh god. “Recently I started taking up, um… boxing,” he says, unsure of his words.

“…Okay?” You say slowly.

“I’ve been fighting, like underground fighting,” you almost don’t hear him, but then you do, and you want to laugh in his face—but he’s being serious.

“Fighting? Jungkook what the fuck?!” You push yourself away from the comfort of his side, “Are you crazy?!”

“I’m getting paid for the fights—if I win at least,” he tries to sound reasonable but to you, you want to scream at him in anger.

“Jungkook, are you fucking kidding me? You’re fighting? Instead of finding a real job?”

“Y/N you don’t understand—I make thousands of dollars for one fight—it’s my best chance right now.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you shake your head, pulling your hands through your hair in frustration, you cannot believe this man right now.

“What are you going to do about school then? Huh?” You press him.

“I-I was hoping you would help me, at least try to tutor me,” he says hesitantly and your stomach drops. You don’t say anything for a moment, unsure if you want to scream or cry at him.

“So this is the reason why you wanted to rekindle our friendship, so I could be your fucking tutor?”

“What no—“

“Are you fucking kidding me Jungkook? I cannot believe you right now,” your voice is getting louder by the minute. You start to walk away from him back to your apartment by yourself, unable to even look at him right now.

“Wait—no, please Y/N,” Jungkook runs to you, grabbing your hand and pulls you back to him, “I know this is all bad timing but I really did miss having you as a friend and you’re the only person, I could tell this to, at least for now,” he quickly explains.

“What, so you want me to help you through school while you get the shit knocked out of you for money?” You ask him, “Jungkook I don’t want to see you go through that, you have to find another option,” your eyes are pleading with him. His grip moves from your hand to your waist which causes your heart to race irregularly.

“Y/N, please I know it’s not the best but it really is my best option. I need someone there for me and I need that person to be you,” his face is too close for comfort and you back away from him a few inches.

“Jungkook, I don’t know,” you shake your head.

“Please, Y/N, I’m begging you,” he says again.

“Have you told anyone?” You ask him.

“Aside from you, only Taehyung knows—and Yoongi, he was the one to introduce me to it.” Yoongi—a name you’re not familiar with.

“Fucking hell Jungkook,” you lean your head back, trying to contain your emotions.

“Please you can’t tell anyone Y/N, I can get in serious trouble by obtaining money this way.”

“Yeah because it’s fucking illegal,” you spit at him. You find his hand to grip a little too tightly and you want to scream at Jungkook. How could he be so stupid? And how were you going to let him be so stupid?

“I’ll help you with school Jungkook, but the fighting… I don’t know,” you tell him, “You know I’m not going to be okay with that.”

“If you makes you feel any better, I haven’t lost. The most I’ve walked away with is a few scraps and bruises on my arms,” he tries to lighten up your mood but it doesn’t work. “I promise I won’t get hurt, I know what I’m doing,” he nudges you trying to loosen you up some. He hands end up grabbing yours, intertwining them tightly.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep Jungkook,” you tell him and his face falls again. Both of you look at your intertwined hands. “At least promise me you’ll be careful,” you plead him.

“Of course. I promise,” he says giving your hand a squeeze. Without warning, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. Your hands snake up against his neck and pull him close to you as well.

His scent is all too familiar and it scares you that you’ve missed out on him growing into the handsome adult he is now. And now, you have to fear for his wellbeing. Fuck. Jungkook pulls away from you and your faces meet a little too close for comfort. His nose brushes against yours, his eyes burning holes into you.

“I’d trust you with my life Y/N,” he speaks again, “And I’m trusting you with this.”

Your breath hitches as his nose brushes yours again. Fuck, you think to yourself. You bite your lip, knowing that you wold absolutely die for this boy and it takes all of you to grip his shirt and push him away from you. You feel less suffocated once your space is empty and Jungkook’s hand stays in yours as he walks you home. It’s a good thing, you think, that you’ve had a stupid little crush on him too or you would most definitely not do this shit for him.

_____

“So,” Jennie says slowly, “How was it?”

You hadn’t even walked into your apartment five feet before Jennie is rushing questions onto you.

“Um,” you pause, taking the time to take off your shoes, “It went... well,” you say, unsure of your words. Did it go well? You weren’t sure considering the two of you were in an argument nearly the whole way home.

“Well?” Jennie asks, curiosity dripping in her tone, “I need more details than that. What’d you do? What did you guys talk about?”

“Um, we just kind of caught up on things,” you knew you had to tread your words lightly. “It felt pretty normal.” You add at the last second, giving her a weak smile. She narrows her eyes at you.

“That’s it?” She somewhat frowned.

“What did you want me to say?” You give her a laugh as you begin to walk back towards your room and undress into your sleepwear. She follows your footsteps closely.

“I don’t know! I was just expecting more, more from you! You seem awfully quiet,” she says plopping down on your bed that she is oh-so accustomed to.

You look through your drawers and pull out a big t-shirt and slip it over your head. You turn to Jennie and give her another pathetic attempt of a smile.

“It’s just weird okay,” you tell her, climbing onto your bed with her, “This was the first time we’ve actually hung out by ourselves in years and I don’t know, it was good, like we picked up where we left off you know?” You knew that was a complete lie but you needed to get Jennie off your case or you were afraid you would let your worries slip.

She lets out a sigh, “I guess so. I do think about high school sometimes and we really had it good… the four of us,” she smiles fondly thinking back to simpler times.

“Yeah… we did,” you agree staring up at your ceiling.

“How’s Taehyung by the way? Did Jungkook mention him?”

You give a glance at Jennie and she’s looking at her overgrown nails. “He’s good, Jungkook said he had a girlfriend which surprised me.”

“Hm,” Jennie shrugged, “Interesting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows while looking at her. “Interesting?” You found her answer odd but she brushes it off.

“Yeah, well I have homework to do that isn’t gonna do itself unfortunately,” she stands up from your bed, “See you in the morning, goodnight.” She throws you a quick wink before she leaves, shutting your bedroom door behind of her.

You let out a sigh of relief when she leaves. As happy as you were that you and Jungkook reconnected some tonight, the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach was keeping you from focusing on the good. You couldn’t believe what Jungkook had gotten himself into. Boxing? For money? You knew Jungkook never had much common sense but this takes it to another level. You now knew one of his deepest secrets and not only could that seriously backfire on you if something went wrong. He said he trusted you with his fucking life for Christ’s sake. Who says that to someone they’ve barely spoken to in two years? Someone who is desperate, you think.

You grab a book from your nightstand for one of your classes and flip to your last read page, trying to rid your mind of Jungkook getting the shit beat out of him. And as much as you read your book and your eyelids fall sleepy, you manage to barely sleep that night, as images of your old friend are burned into your brain.

_____

It wasn’t long after your first meetup with Jungkook that he started asking for tutoring help. Jungkook knew your schedule was busy and he didn’t want to pressure you into anything, but the more you were around Jungkook, the more desperate you were to help him. You have known him for so long and despite all your differences, he truly was and will always be one of your best friends. And best friends helped each other. Right?

“Hey—sorry I’m late,” you meet Jungkook in the back of the fourth floor of the library after your last class of the day. “I had a question about my lecture—“

“Y/N it’s fine,” Jungkook says softly, not looking up from his paper, “Don’t worry about it.”

You set down beside of him and begin to take your belongings out of your backpack and you notice Jungkook has already begun some work himself.

“How was classes today?” You ask him opening up your laptop. You give him a glance and he’s focused on the problem in front of him.

“It was alright, I slept through my first one at ten—“

“What’s that?” You ask as you let your eyes focus a little too close on his face. A cut lined across his jaw and up towards his left ear and you felt yourself begin to panic.  “Jungkook what—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he’s being cold and distant and you don’t like it. You look down his arms and onto his hands and notice some cuts and bruises there too. That’s when it hits you.

“Jungkook did you have a fight recently?” You keep your voice low so no one else could hear. He visibly tenses up beside of you and he adjusts his beanie on his to try and cover his ear area.

“Yeah,” he says simply, his eyes not looking at you one time, still focusing on the paper ahead.

“Jungkook,” your tone is deep and not happy, but you suppose there isn’t much you can do in this situation. Curiosity got the best of you and you ask, “What happened?”

“Let’s not talk about that okay?” He turns to you fully and you inwardly gasp, seeing that his right eye is half blacked behind his glasses. You feel sick to your stomach and your mouth parts. Again, you don’t say anything and just give him a nod.

The rest of the tutoring session with him goes smoothly and Jungkook has significantly picked up his understanding of his classes in a short amount of time, but in the back of your mind you wanted to scream. Scream at him. How could he be doing this to himself? He first told you he was fine. He sure doesn’t look fine. It’s getting close to 7 o’clock when you tell him you have to go get ready for your shift at the diner in an hour.

“We can pick up again whenever you need to,” you tell, “And text me if you have any questions.”

“What are you doing this weekend?” Jungkook completely ignores your sentences and you turn to him, trying not to stare at the faint of blue under his eye.

“Um, I have another shift tomorrow that starts at 7,” you tell him.

“Can you get off?” He asks almost nervously as the two of you begin to leave the library.

You chuckle, “Probably not, why?”

“Well, Taehyung and I are having a small get together at our apartment and I wanted to know if you and Jennie wanted to come?”

He sounds genuine and you know it could be fun and a little different from the chaotic frat scene that you’re used to.

“Sure, I’m sure Jennie will be down,” you give him a smile to which he returns one for the first time tonight. “If I can’t get off work I’ll just come after my shift.”

“Sounds good,” he says and you are about to part ways before he grabs your arm to stop you, “Thanks again Y/N, for helping me out,” there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“No problem, it’s what a friend would do right?” You give him your best smile although it feels weird saying that. His face drops in the slightest way.

“Yeah…” he trails off, his hand trailing down your arm before letting go, “See you soon?”

You give him a nod, “See you soon.”

_____

Your shift at the diner tonight was being particularly slow for a Tuesday and you found yourself aimlessly making lattes for yourself every thirty minutes. You were slightly jacked from the caffeine but you knew you would need it once you went home to finish off the load of your homework for the night. Bedtime as of right now was looking to be 3 AM, possibly 4. Mark is once again working with you tonight which makes it all the more bearable, but the more you stand behind the counter, sipping your coffee, the more you realize you do not want to waste tomorrow night working.

“Hey, Mark,” you say and he looks up from his book.

“What’s up?” He asks, his eyes focussing on you.

“Would you care…. to possibly… take my shifts this weekend?” You ask slowly, dancing around the topic. His eyebrows furrow and you could tell that is not what he wanted to hear from you.

“I mean… I don’t care to, but can I ask why?”

Shit. You couldn’t say it was to go to a small party. That would be an automatic no.

“Well, I’ve been tutoring someone recently and it's taken away from my own study time, so I really need all weekend to catch up on all my shit,” you say smoothly. Not a complete lie, but he didn’t need to know you would be catching up on your “shit” tonight and not this weekend.

“Yeah, sure whatever,” he waves his hand off, “Just be sure to tell our manager before you leave.”

“Right… thanks Mark.”

“That means you owe me a shift in the future,” he says pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, read your fucking book.”

_____

Friday was a blur. You went to sleep around 3:45 AM. Had to wake up at 7 AM for your 8 AM lecture, dragged your feet to your other classes, barely had time to eat anything, only consuming coffee to suppress your appetite in the afternoon, and now that you were home you couldn’t wait to lay in your bed for a few hours.

Jennie didn’t have classes on Friday’s—fuck her—so she had been chilling all day when you burst through the door exhausted.

“You look horrible,” she said as soon as you flopped down on the couch beside of her.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you groan covering your eyes.

“Well you better get rested up before tonight,” she says.

“What’s tonight?” You mumble, nearly drifting off to sleep right then and there.

“Jungkook invited us to his apartment, that’s what you said last night,” she gave you a funny look before shaking her head.

Shit. You had forgotten about that throughout your drowsy state all day.

“Yeah, right,” you pause, looking at her through the crack of your arm, “Wake me up at 7 to get ready.” You stand up planning on taking the fattest nap of your life.

“I-I captain!” Jennie says sarcastically and it’s the last thing you hear before passing out on your bed, not even bothering to put a blanket over you.

_____

Jungkook and Taehyung’s apartment isn’t far from yours. You wouldn’t say the exterior is nicer than yours, but the abundance of buildings shows that their community is much larger than the one you and Jennie share.

“This is right?” Jennie asks as you knock on the door heavily.

“Yeah,” you say, faintly hearing music from the other side of the door.

The door swings open and to your surprise, it’s Taehyung.

“Jennie, Y/N!” He smiles widely at the two of you before ushering you in. “It’s been wayyyy too long! You guys want a drink?”

You take a second to look around their apartment, not seeing Jungkook anywhere. There’s about two dozen people here, some playing pong, others sitting around the living area. You knew Taehyung was feeling a little drunk despite it being only 9 from the way he grabs a couple cups, the entire tower of them falling over.

“How have you guys been?!” Taehyung pours some cheap tequila into your red solo cups and hands them over.

“Good, what about you?” Jennie smiles to him and Taehyung pours another shot for himself.

“Fucking great,” he says before putting his cup out. The three of you bump cups and down the tequila, a familiar burn hitting you instantly. It’s oddly reminiscent, the three of you drinking alcohol like there are no problems with the world.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, giving another glance around the apartment, only recognizing some of his frat brothers, but him still not to be found.

“He went to get more alcohol and some other things,” Taehyung says, pouring another shot for the two of you. “I heard the two of you finally got over your bullshit?”

You furrow your eyebrows and Jennie laughs. “W-what?” You have to laugh too, “Bullshit?”

“You know, how the two of you acted like neither of you existed? God it was so annoying hearing that little bitch talk about you constantly,” he rolls his eyes dramatically and Jennie eyes you suspiciously.

“Uh, yeah—“ you were unsure of what to say, “Heard you have a girlfriend now?” You change the subject quickly and Jennie raises her eyebrows at Taehyung.

“Really?” Jennie says almost passively. Taehyung doesn’t glance at you, only looking to Jennie.

“Yeah,” he says, “C’mon, drink your shit. The night is young and you guys need to catch up!”

“Or you need to slow down?” You offer and only giggles again. You down another shot and at this pace, you’ll be passed out by 11, Jennie by 10. You’ve always handle your alcohol better than her, but a shot every two minutes will do anyone in.

The three of you talk aimlessly, somewhat of an unresolved tension between Jennie and Taehyung that is impossible to avoid until you get some more alcohol in you. You’re about four shots of Jose Cuervo in and sipping on some type of seltzer when your phone buzzes in your hand.

[9:46 PM Namjoon] hey, wrud tonight

[9:46 PM You] at a friend’s place tonight, wbu

Your eyes are having trouble to focus as the alcohol begins to settle in your system. You remember vividly how you barely had any food today and you know you should stop drinking otherwise you might puke everywhere.

[9:48 PM Namjoon] damn, missing you. I believe you still owe me a rain check

You laugh at your phone.

[9:48 PM You] soon, I promise lol

“Jungkook! Fuck yes my brother!”

You instantly look up from your phone and see Jungkook walking through the front door, a case of beer in one hand and a brown bag in the other. He smiles as he sets down the case and bag of liquor as his brothers crowd around him to grab a can.

Do you go up to him? Yes, are you, stupid? But shouldn’t he look for you? What are you twelve?

Your internal monologue is interrupted when Taehyung pulls you over to Jungkook with a small push.  

“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook smiles, grabbing a beer for himself. He’s wearing a hat to cover his forehead.

“Hi,” you smile and he gives you a small, somewhat awkward hug.

“Glad you could make it,” he says, the bruises on his face from the other day already looking a lot better.

“I was not going to spend my Friday night at the restaurant,” you laugh, trying intensely to focus on his face and not zone in and out as you tend to do drunkenly.

“Jennie here?” He asks.

“Yeah, she’s uh,” you pause, actually not knowing where she went. “Oh, she’s playing pong with Taehyung.”

“Come on then,” he reaches out his hand, “Let’s play with them.”

“Jungkook I’m terrible, you know that—“

“I never said you were good, but for old times sake?” His brown eyes bore into yours and you give in, nodding your head and settling your hand into his. His hands are warm—always have been. Slightly rough and calloused but smooth—what the fuck, stop it!

The four of you, girls verses boys, start a new game of pong and you’re sure Jennie is just as bad as you. That’s evident when Jungkook and Taehyung lob four in, one after another. You’re lucky you get one in their cups. Jennie, too drunk at this point, can’t even throw straight. The whole sight is very funny as the four of you laugh like you’re the only ones in the room.

“Come on Y/N!” Taehyung yells, “I knew you were ass but really?!”

“Me! What about her!” You defend yourself as Jennie throws a ball at Jungkook’s head.

“At least Y/N can aim!” Jungkook laughs, defending you as well, rubbing his head from the plastic impact.

The game ends with Jungkook calling island and you don’t even care at this point. Pong was and never will be your favorite. Flip cup was your speciality and even Taehyung knew that. You find yourself sitting with Jungkook on their couch, legs tucked underneath you, watching at Taehyung and Jennie take on another round of pong with Jackson—a fraternity brother—and his long time girlfriend—Mina, maybe?

“Are you even drunk right now?” You deadpan Jungkook with your eyes and he gives you a small smile.

“Nah,” he says, “You are though,” he says pointedly drinking from his beer.

“Hey—“ you point, “Only a little,” you whisper close to his ear and he laughs at you again. “You sir, need to drink.”

Jungkook shakes his head before standing up, your eyes following up his jeans to his t-shirt clad chest. Has he always looked like this? You grab onto his extended hand and he leads you away from everyone and your heart rate quickens. Where are you going? What’s he doing?

To your relief, he takes to the small outside balcony, sliding the door nearly closed as you step out. There’s two other people out here smoking cigarettes that greet you and Jungkook curiously. You have seen these boys before, but you know they don’t recognize you. They obviously think you’re some random girl Jungkook has invited but—if they only knew.

The fresh air feels nice, but you can feel a chill running down your spine and you watch Jungkook’s frame go to a dark corner of the balcony, bending down to pick something off the ground.

“What are you doing?” You ask him and he turns back to you and you send some interesting paraphernalia in his hands.

“Not in a drinking mood tonight,” he says, his eyes leaving yours before focusing on the small glass bowl in his hands. He starts to pack it and you’re watching his every move closely. You never knew Jungkook to be a stoner, but the way he packs it quickly and begins to light it, tells you otherwise. He inhales through the end of the bowl deeply, exhaling once, before quickly taking another hit.

“Goddamn,” you laugh and he starts to cough a little bit, a small laugh coming from him.

Jungkook begins to walk back to the corner before you grab his shirt to pull him back.

“You heard of sharing is caring?” You say and he shakes his head.

“No, you’re drunk, you don’t need—“

“I want too,” you say. You hadn’t smoked in awhile, but you knew you could trust Jungkook. “Come on, I’m fine.”

Jungkook hesitates a little before he holds out the bowl. You take it and hold is securely between your lips. He lights the underside and you inhale deeply. The balcony begins to smell like weed, but it doesn’t bother you, it never has. You exhale and give him a small smile. He puts the illegal substances away and stands beside of you on the balcony.

“Alright, that will be five dollars,” he says and you turn to him, your mouth agape.

“Five dollars a hit? Kiss my ass,” you say and you suddenly begin to feel the effects of the marijuana, which makes you giggle a little too long.

“How was your day?” Jungkook asks you and you nearly feel like you could fall asleep.

“Exhausting,” you mumble, “I got like four hours of sleep last night and one of my professors had the audacity to tell me that my answer was wrong on my homework when literally five other people had the same answer and got it right. And then I had coffee as my meals and had a busting headache until I took the longest nap of my fucking life—“

“Slow down,” Jungkook interjects with a laugh, “Too much information that I’m not processing right now.”

You let out an “ugh” before saying, “I’ve had better days for sure.” You leave it at that. “What about you?”

He smiles before turning to you completely, “I’ve had better days, better weeks for sure.” He almost sounds annoyed now, like something is deeply bothering him.

You let a pause presume between the two of you, unsure of what to say. You know you shouldn’t bring it up, but you can’t help it. The bruises on his face, the cuts on his hands—you needed to know what happened to him. Despite your intoxicated state, you could form sentences and think pretty clearly and you weren’t letting Jungkook out of your sight without explaining himself.

“Jungkook,” you say in a whisper, looking around to see if the other guys had left. They had. “Are you gonna tell me what happened to your face?”

He looks down, almost embarrassed. “There was a fight on Tuesday,” he stops when you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“Tuesday?!” You half whisper, “What the hell are you doing fighting on a Tuesday? Jungkook you said—“

“It wasn’t an official fight Y/N,” he interrupts you, “I was fucking jumped with one of my friends,” he says and your eyes widen. You feel your head spinning and your mouth goes dry. From the weed, alcohol, or the conversation? You’re not sure.

“What?” You ask, worry filling your tone, “Jungkook what the fuck! You said you had this under control.”

“Keep your voice down!” He scolds, “I do have it under control, although you can’t really control when you get jumped.”

“W-why? Who would want—“

“His name is Eric. I beat him at the last real fight and I guess he’s a sore fucking loser. He wants a rematch and everything, said he was injured before the fight, so he sent some pussies to jump my friend Jimin and I.”

The information being taken in wasn’t something you wanted to hear. Was this stupid underground boxing that serious? And how stupid could Jungkook be to continue to do this?

“Well you’re not gonna fight him again,” you pause. He doesn’t look at you. “Are you?”

“There’s a lot of money on the line,” he says.

“Jungkook you’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not Y/N,” he turns to you again, his body now closer than before. His knuckles gripping the railing are pale and cracked. “If I win this fight, I won’t need anymore money before the end of the year. Hell, I’ll probably even have some left over.”

“Okay? And?”

“Then I can be done with fighting,” he sounds genuine but insincere  at the same time. This greatly improves your posture and you feel your heartbeat calming down.

“B-but I figured you would need more money? Your parents Jungkook?” You stumble over some of your words.

“Y/N you don’t understand the money within these things, it’s insane. Trust me, I’ll be set with money for awhile. I just have to win that fight…”

You want to protest him. Tell him he shouldn’t do it, that he should find a normal job, get away from that stuff—but you stay silent. Jungkook always will be as stubborn as you and he seems to have made up his mind about this fighting stuff awhile ago. At the end of the day, whatever happens to him, isn’t necessarily your business.

“You know I’ll never agree with this,” you shake your head, looking down at Jungkook’s hands. They’ve relaxed against the railing and time has slowed down significantly. Every blink of your eyes seem to last 5 seconds and Jungkook could say the same thing.

“I know,” Jungkook steps towards you, overlapping one of his hands with yours, “But like I said, I trust you and you should trust me,” he almost sounds desperate. “Look at me,” he whispers and you slowly turn your head up. Your noses are nearly touching and you can smell him, your vision clouding in the dark.

“Do you trust me?” He asks quietly, licking his lips and you swallow, trying to find your breath.

You nod your head slowly, “Yes.”

You don’t know who leans in first, but when your lips meet, it’s like a siren goes off. The scene feels all too familiar. His lips are soft and they feel just like you remember. He’s gentle with you, his left hand holding your waist to pull you towards him, your bodies flush together. One of your hands finds their way to his hair and you pull him down closer to you. This feels good, really good—but isn’t this wrong? You two have just rekindled your relationship and you two didn’t even last four weeks before you two are snogging—the very reason your friendship became weird in the first place all those years ago.

You try to pull away, “Jungkook—“ he closes the gap once again and it’s like a drug—touch is like heroin in your veins. Both of you are hungry—hungry for each other. You’re not sure when, but you find yourself backed into the wall of the dark-side of the balcony. The door isn’t in view so anyone inside couldn’t see what was going on right now thank god.

“Y/N,” the groan sends your body into overdrive and he begins to trail his lips down your neck and you’ve pulled him so close to you there is barely room to breathe. It’s gotta be the alcohol—or the weed—or just Jungkook—but you’ve never wanted anyone more in your life. You squeeze your thighs together to find some unrelieved friction and Jungkook senses what you’re doing. He stops you, forcing is own leg between your crotch and you subtly moan.

“Fuck, shh,” Jungkook scolds and it makes you laugh as you check if anyone is coming to the door.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he closes the gap between you again, covering your mouth gently and you genuinely feel butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook’s hand trails from your waist down to the front of you jeans and you pull away suddenly, “Jungkook w-what are you doing?!”

“Do you want me to do this?” He sounds mischievous as he pops open the button to your pants and you can safely say you never thought you would be in this situation with Jeon Jungkook of all people, but you are not about to stop him.

You kiss him this time, pulling on his hair, eliciting another delicious groan from him. His hand makes it way to your center and you shiver in the cold, his hands warm against your underwear. He rubs you through the material, once, twice, three times before he moves aside the fabric—the wetness covering his fingers instantly. You look towards the door again nervous that someone might walk out here and see the two of you compromised—you would die. Especially if it was Taehyung or Jennie.

“Quiet, alright?” Jungkook whispers and you nod biting your lip as he enters a finger into you. You close your eyes, mouth falling open. Your breathing picks up as he enters a second digit. His fingers are long and calloused as you noticed before but it feels so good. He brings one of your legs around his waist so he can get deeper into your center and a small, squeaky moan escapes from your mouth. Jungkook shuts you up by kissing you again and he begins to move his fingers in and out, curling them in all the right places, sending you into a silent mess.

You and Jungkook shouldn’t be doing this—not here, not right now, not ever. But you’re not doing anything to stop it. Neither is he. Is this suppose to be happening then? No—definitely yes. Wait, what? Your brain is so foggy you can’t even think straight.

Jungkook has added a third finger and it’s becoming harder and harder to stay quiet. Jungkook’s face in the crook of your neck, your neck in his—it’s all a little too intimate but it’s hot and heavy and it feels so good. Jungkook begins to use his thumb to find your clit, which he does with no problem—rubbing there and still moving in and out of you. Goddamn, he knows what he is doing.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna—“

“Shh,” he says, “Bite me, anywhere,” he says and you do as he says, your teeth clamping down onto his shoulder as you feel yourself falling off the edge. Your orgasm comes in a huge wave and it’s one of the best you’ve had in a long time—your body is shaking and you whimper into his shoulder, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Jungkook lets you finish before he pulls his hand out of your pants, letting your leg drop. You two stare at each other for a couple seconds, unsure of what to do now. You knew that Jungkook was hard in his pants but you weren’t sure if he wanted you to do anything about it. Should you ask? No that’s fucking weird. Well it’s fucking weird you just let your best friend of a billion years to give you one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Um,” he speaks first, “We should go back inside,” he says.

You nod, “Yeah, we should.”

You follow closely behind him as he slides the door open and you step back into the much warmer apartment.

“Y/N! Jungkook! What were you guys doing?!” Jennie pops out of nowhere until she steps back, “Fuck never mind, I can smell it,” she laughs, her eyes looking between the two of you. “What’s wrong with you two? Are you fighting again? Jesus fucking—“

“No, we’re fine, just high,” Jungkook gives her a reassuring smile and she nods absentmindedly. She is very drunk and then two of you might have to go home sooner than later.

“I need to call an Uber,” you say grabbing your phone from your pocket.

“I can drive you guys if you want,” Jungkook offers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Absolutely not, you’re high.” You say pulling up the app on your phone.

“I’ve driven high before it’s not—“

“Jungkook, no,” you somewhat snap at him. This kid really knows how to grind your gears. “Thanks for inviting us, I just don’t want Jennie to do something she regrets tomorrow morning.” You try your best to lighten to mood but it’s not helping. As much progress as you and Jungkook had made the past few weeks, that all feels gone now. There’s heaviness with you and him and you hate it.

“Just let me know when you make it home?” Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read. He looks worried, anxious, high obviously, and other potential obscurities.

“I will, I promise,” you give him a smile and he returns one weakly. You look over your shoulder to find Jennie practically draping herself all over Taehyung. Fuck. “Jennie! Come on! We’re leaving,” you stomp over to the two of them and Taehyung doesn’t seemed bothered by Jennie throwing herself at him at all. If anything, they both seem to like it. “Jennie, quit, he has a girlfriend. Taehyung, you have a girlfriend,” you narrow at the both of them.

Taehyung laughs very drunkenly, “You’re right, come on Jen,” Taehyung pushes her away slightly and she stumbles over her feet.

“Our Uber is almost here,” you tell her and she nods.

“Sounds good,” she gives you a thumbs up. 

“Help me walk her Tae?” You ask and he nods.

As you and Taehyung have Jennie up around your shoulders, you look around the apartment to find Jungkook to tell him bye, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

_____

It had been exactly one week since you’ve seen Jungkook. Since he was fist deep into your vagina, pleasuring you with at least 20 people in the room next to you. It has also been the last time you spoke to him. He didn’t reach out for any tutoring this week which was odd—as the two of you set a schedule for it a few weeks back. You were worried. You knew you should reach out to him and talk about what happened—but something was holding you back. You didn’t want to talk over the phone. It had to be done in person and it just had to be done. You didn’t want to lose Jungkook a second time to another drunken mistake.

Mistake? Since when was it a mistake? Was it a mistake?

You had no idea.

It’s why you’ve found yourself at Jungkook’s apartment a week later, waiting for someone to open the door. You wait patiently and no one answers the door. You’re about to give up when a voice startles you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Taehyung appears to your left and you jump.

“Shit Taehyung,” you hold a hand over your chest, “I’m sorry, I-I was just wondering if Jungkook was home?”

Taehyung adjusts his backpack. He must be getting back from class. “He’s probably at the gym.”

You nod slowly, “Alright, thank you.”

“No problem,” he says and you’re about to walk away and he stops you again, “Everything okay?”

You open your mouth and close it again, “Not sure,” you tell him honestly. He nods without another word, seeming to understand where you’re coming from.

If your assumptions were right, Jungkook would be at a gym about ten minutes from campus, one he frequented as a freshman all that time ago. You wanted everything to be okay, but now, you were sure you have done fucked it up once again.

The gym isn’t crowded and you don’t recognize any cars to be Jungkook’s so your mood begins to dampen as you walk towards the front door. The bell rings and you probably look like an idiot walking in with jeans and sandals, but your eyes ignore the stares as you try to find Jungkook. You walk through the gym towards the back, your neck craning each direction to find him. It smells of sweat and grit, something you haven’t done too much of lately. You’re about to give up until you reach the back, where a cracked door leads into another section of the gym. You open the crack slowly and the sounds of grunting and hard hits fill the room. You stop in your place as your eyes land on Jungkook, downing boxing gloves, a pair of shorts, and nothing else. You gulp.

He’s hitting a heavy bag hard and fast, his movements halting only for a split second before he strikes again. He’s dripping in sweat and you gulp again. Should you interrupt? He’s definitely not expecting you therefore you probably shouldn’t barge in but you’re already here, so what are you supposed to do?

“Come on Jungkook,” another man’s voice comes into play. You’ve never seen this guy with mint colored hair. “Throw a southpaw, let’s go!” 

Jungkook’s stance quickly changes and he’s throwing his right arm and then uppercutting his left arm with all of his weight. 

“Nice Jungkook,” the voice says again. Jungkook steps back with a smile on his face, looking behind him. 

“Hey,” a different voice yells over and you stop to see who it is. A guy slightly shorter than Jungkook appears in the crack of the door, a wide smile across his face.

“Good news, fight is set,” the guy smiles, although his smile reads less than enthusiastic. You notice some bruising along this guys arms, a large scrap on the side of his face. This has to be Jimin, the other guy that was jumped with Jungkook. 

“When is it?” Jungkook breathes heavily, his hair sticking to his forehead as he tries to push it back through his gloves.

“October thirteenth,” Jimin says, “A Friday.”

Jungkook laughs, “A fucking Friday the thirteenth? How cheesy could they get?”

You swallow harshly. October 13th was a less than three weeks away. You’re sure they are talking about the fight with the guy named Eric that Jungkook mentioned.

“I know right,” the nameless guy says, “But I’m sure you’ll kick his ass once again, waste of your time.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice Jimin,” Jungkook sounds annoyed and you’re starting to wonder if you should have came here at all. 

“Come on, let’s do some more sets,” the other guy says says, patting Jungkook on the shoulder.

You take in a deep breath, hoping that this doesn’t backfire. You take your chance and open the door to the room as if you just showed up. Jungkook, Jimin, and the third guy turns to you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking confused, “What are you doing here?”

You glance around the room awkwardly, “Uh, I-uh, went to your apartment to see you if you were a-and Taehyung said you were here, so,” you sound like a babbling idiot.

Jungkook’s eyes soften and it’s hard to not stare below his neck, but somehow you manage.

“Jimin, Yoongi this is Y/N,” Jungkook formally introduces you, “She’s a friend.” A friend. That hurt more than it should have.

“Hi,” Jimin gives you a sweet smile and he seems like a person Jungkook would automatically gravitate towards. Yoongi stays quiet. He’s definitely not someone you would strike as Jungkook’s friend. 

“Sorry if I’m interrupting—I didn’t know…” you trail off, feeling more than awkward in this situation.

“No worries,” Jimin shakes his head, “We were almost done anyways.”

Jungkook’s eyes haven’t met yours since you’ve walked in. He’s staring at Jimin and knowing Jungkook, he’s going to try and leave as soon as he can.

“Wanna meet again tomorrow?” Jimin asks towards Jungkook as he packs up his bag on the floor.

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook mutters, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “I’m gonna stay here for a little longer though.”

“Alright,” Jimin says, “It was nice to meet you Y/N.”

You smile to him, “You too.”

Jimin and Yoongi leave the room and the silence is suffocating. You cross your arms around your chest feeling vulnerable and insecure. You look at Jungkook and he’s staring at you now. He looks away from you before turning back to the bag, lining up to strike it again.

“Jungkook,” your voice interrupts his chance to punch. He pauses with one more glance to your frame. You begin to walk closer to him wanting to get this over and done with. “What’s wrong with you?” You ask.

Jungkook looks down, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters and you nearly jump out of your body when he begins to strike the bag in quick, calculated motions. The bag moves backwards with each punch and his face tenses up, his mind clearly on one thing and one thing only. You exhale deeply, trying to stay calm. If that’s the way he’s going to play—you won’t keep your cool for long.

“Jungkook, stop,” you raise your voice over his movements and he suddenly quits, looking up at you again. “Don’t do this right now,” you say stepping closer to him again.

“What do you want Y/N, I’m busy alright,” he scoffs, stepping away from the bag, turning fully to you. You wish he didn’t look good drenched in sweat but it was hard to stay focused when he was looking like that.

“You know exactly what I want. You haven’t spoken to me in a fucking week Jungkook,” your words are fiery despite your cool demeanor.

“Is that really that big of an issue? We barely spoke for two years until recently,” he sounds annoyed, but also timid—you can sense something is bothering him.

You frown, “Yeah until recently because I thought we moved past that.”

He doesn’t say anything. And that’s what boils your blood. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes—not from sadness, but frustration.  

“So is that it? I let you finger fuck me and now I don’t mean anything to you anymore?” Your words are seething and once you say this, Jungkook’s face softens that slightest bit.

“What? No Y/N—“

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you? What have I done?!” It takes all of you not to breakdown right there. You just got Jungkook back. You couldn’t lose him a second time.

“Y/N listen,” Jungkook takes off his boxing gloves, throwing them in the floor, “You haven’t done anything alright. It’s just—complicated,” he shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He tries to grab one of your hands but you pull away from him.

“No, no you don’t get to do that,” you say, “What happened to communicating Jungkook? Wasn’t that our issue all that time ago?”

He looks down and back up. You really wish he would put a shirt on. “I know, I know…” he wanders off, “If I could tell you I would, but I’m just under a lot of stress right now and—“

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” you don’t want to interrupt him, but you feel like you two are going in an endless circle. Jungkook steps towards you once again and this time you don’t back away from him.

“Look, I’m sorry alright. I shouldn’t have cut you off this past week—I just thought it would clear my head,” he says. With hesitation, he grabs your wrists gently, “That was stupid I get that okay? I’m sorry, especially after… what happened,” he says and you can tell he means it. Jungkook is a genuine person, you can’t argue that.

Your face warms up and you feel almost embarrassed. Were you overreacting?

“I just don’t understand,” you mutter, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions but Jungkook, you’re worrying me. I don’t know what’s going on with us and this whole boxing thing is keeping me awake at night.”

He intertwines your fingers together and it’s comforting. Comfort you’ve been missing ever since a week ago. “Y/N, please just trust me okay? If I can get through these next few weeks I’m set and I promise you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“How can you promise that?” You look up fully at him and you’re a lot closer than moments ago.

“I don’t to make promises I can’t keep.”

You sure hoped he was right.

_____

Two weeks have gone by since your talk with Jungkook in the gym. He had resumed talking to you normally, although there was still something off about him. Then again, there was something off with you too. The intimate situation the two of you found yourself in a few weeks back, still hadn’t been fully discussed and it bothered you like no other. It bothered you because you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it to happen again—or even further. Fuck, you shouldn’t be thinking about Jungkook like this. But don’t you have a right to? Jesus you were so confused. It’s why you have found yourself at Beta Tau Sigma once again on a Saturday night, Jennie already lost in tow somewhere, and you’re standing with Namjoon. Even though your mind was clouded with Jungkook, Namjoon was good company at keeping you distracted.

“What’s up with you lately?” Namjoon asks handing you another drink. You furrow your brows before taking a sip. Your face scrunches up at the taste—not the best.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

Namjoon gives you a straight smile, “Don’t play stupid,” he says. You don’t even try to make up a lie. Namjoon is too smart for that.

“I don’t know, Joon,” you sigh, “I’ve just been going through a lot lately I guess,” you mutter over the loud music.

“I get it,” he says, “Wanna talk about it?”

You’re about to answer him when you suddenly spot a familiar head of dark brown hair across the room. It’s Jungkook and he’s with a girl—you recognize her from somewhere. She’s standing in front of him and he’s smirking down at her and says something that makes her laugh. Then you know where you’ve seen her before—the bathroom girl. Fuck her, you don’t even realize you roll your eyes.

Namjoon laughs, “Whoa, what was that for?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“W-what?” You look back to him and he follows where your eyes had been.

“Looking at Jungkook, eh?” He smirks, “Something going on between you two?”

You shake your head immediately, “No. Absolutely not.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not. Sure, Jungkook and you may have swapped some bodily fluids recently, but nothing else. You were also keeping a secret of his, one that if Namjoon found out about—would have him kicked out of the frat faster than he could blink. You glance back over to Jungkook one more time and find his eyes scanning the room. They land on you within 5 seconds and he shifts uncomfortably in front of bathroom girl.

“You sure?” Namjoon finds this situation funny. You don’t.

“Shut up,” you push on his chest slightly and he grabs your hand, pulling you towards him.

“Oh I can make you shut up,” he mumbles and you laugh as he closes the distance between the two of you. Namjoon’s lips are always soft and plump but that doesn’t mean he is always the most gentle. Namjoon is rough and sometimes—it’s just what you need. Jungkook’s lips on—

You pull away quickly from him. What the fuck?

“You okay?” He asks with concern.

You nod your head, “Yeah, I, just uh need some air,” you say. It was true—your head was now spinning and the alcohol wasn’t helping. You couldn’t believe you thought of Jungkook when kissing Namjoon.

“Alright, I’ll be by the bar.”

You leave Namjoon’s side and push your way through the hoards of people and loud music. You spot a door towards the back of the kitchen and use that as your opportunity. The air is cool but crisp. Just what you needed. There’s quite a few people outside surrounding a large bonfire keeping warm. You relax against the porch railings, staring aimlessly at the ground beneath you. You pour your drink out, knowing you don’t need to drink anymore of it. You nearly shit yourself when a voice comes up directly behind you.

“Y/N.”

You whip around, clutching your chest. “Jesus Christ Jungkook,” you say. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, a large flannel and sweatshirt covering his torso. He approaches you hastily and you don’t take your eyes off of his.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says, obviously trying to make small talk.

“I didn’t either until Namjoon asked me this evening,” you say and you instantly regret bringing up his name. Jungkook stiffens.

“Still good friends with him I see,” he bites his lip nervously, looking over to the bonfire. You squint your eyes at him. He sounds off and annoyed.

“I see you’re still friends with bathroom girl,” you shoot back. You’re not even drunk, barely tipsy, but the thought of Jungkook being annoyed at you and Namjoon nearly sends you. At least you know Namjoon well—the only Jungkook knows about that girl is her fucking mouth.

“Gotta an issue with that?” He runs his tongue against his mouth and he looks at your from the side.

You turn to him and this feels all too familiar. “Yeah, actually I do.”

“Well, I have an issue kissing Namjoon in front of me—are we even?” He cocks his head to the side and you’ve never felt more annoyed yet turned on at the same time.

“Whatever,” you brush him off running a hand through your hair, turning back to your front staring at the fire. “Last time I checked I don’t take orders from you.”

“I know,” he says and you feel him push his body against your side. Your breathing instantly picks up and you bite the inside of your cheek to steady yourself. One of Jungkook’s hands finds its way to your shoulder, trailing it down to your elbow, then pushing it through the crack of your arm to settle on your waist.

“Jungkook,” you say quietly, not wanting to bring any attention to the two of you. Jungkook’s head leans down, his temple brushing against yours. His hand rubs gentle circles on your waist and you inhale his scent deeply. Fuck. “Jungkook… are you drunk?”

He shakes his head, “No, are you?” You believe him. He doesn’t smell like alcohol nor does he seem tipsy.

“No,” you say. Jungkook pulls you impossibly closer to him and your throat feels like its closing up.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks and you turn your head up, your noses brushing together. What? When has he ever been this upfront? You hesitate to answer but soon nod slowly—just once—you needed to feel it again—just once again. He closes the gap between you and you nearly melt into him. One of your hands grabs his face gently, pulling him down to you. Your own hands find their way to his fluffy hair, entangling into the locks. He presses himself into you and you feel your heart beating out of your chest. You let out a small whine when he pulls on your lip with his teeth and it shakes you back to reality.

You pull away from him—your entire body on fire. He’s got you trapped against the railing and you don’t trust the old wood to support your weight much longer.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and you feel something hard pressing into your front and your throat goes dry.

“Come home with me,” he says, “Please.” Desperation. That’s what laces his tone and you’re sure your heart left from your chest. But—you know this isn’t a good idea. Blame it on being sober, but you’re not sure you should go there with Jungkook. Not right now at least. Your head was spinning and as much as you wanted to—you couldn’t.

“Jungkook,” your eyes focus on his chest, watching your hands grip his shirt gently. “I—We can’t, we shouldn’t,” you bite your lip nervously.

“Please Y/N,” he nuzzles his forehead into yours, his grip on your getting tighter, “I need you, please—“

“Jungkook, no,” you push him off of you carefully and he looks hurt and confused. “I’m sorry, I—I want to but—“

“But what?” Once again, he looks sad and maybe a little angry now? “II’m not Namjoon? Is that it?”

You shake your head, not able to find a good answer in your head. His hands drop from your side and so does your stomach. Without another glance at your frame, Jungkook walks away, pulling at the roots of his hair.

You get home alone that night. Fuck. You think you really may have messed up this time. No, Jungkook wasn’t Namjoon but Namjoon could never be Jungkook. The history the two of you have... god you were so confused. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt gravity pull you to someone more since recently, that someone being Jungkook. As confused as your feelings were, you cry some in your bed. You don’t sleep that night, worried that whatever wedge is driving itself between you and Jungkook again—won’t be fixable this time.

_____

Jungkook, maybe much not to your surprise, cuts you off again the next week. You haven’t spoken or seen him since the party. Since he wanted you to go home with him and you nearly did, but thankfully you used your head some. You missed seeing his face dearly and missed his smile even more. When did things get so complicated with you and him? Ever since fucking graduation in high school—nothing has been the same. It’s been years and years and it’s something you’ve never gotten over. The more you think about it, the obvious reasons begin to show. Maybe Jungkook means more to you than you thought? Maybe he wasn’t just supposed to be your best friend? What if you two had been destined for something else all this time? Or maybe you weren’t meant to be friends at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted when a familiar face walks into your shift at the diner. Taehyung is by himself, his backpack thrown lazily over one of his shoulders. He looks tired, but just like you, getting through the day. His eyes meet yours and give him a small smile.

“Sit wherever,” you tell him and he decides to sit along the bar, sitting across from where you stand.

“Good evening,” he gives you a small smile, running a hand over his face.

“Hey Tae,” you breathe out, handing him a menu. He holds up his hand, not wanting it.

“Just get me a latte, extra espresso please,” he says and you nod.

“Coming right up.”

It doesn’t even take you a minute to make lattes now. The process has become so familiar it’s become second nature. Mainly due to your own obsession with lattes and your determination to perfect them yourself. You top the mug off with some foam before sliding it over to Taehyung. He doesn’t wait for it to cool before taking a big gulp.

“Rough day?” You ask, leaning forward on your elbows.

“You don’t even know,” he grumbles, “I had a quiz in my hardest class today that I didn’t know about, therefore didn’t study for,” he pauses, “I had to pick up all the slack on a group project that’s due on Saturday and then I have had to deal with Jungkook’s dumbass all week and he was at his worst this morning,” he rolls his eyes.

The mention of Jungkook makes your heart flutter yet stomach feel nauseated, “What’s wrong with Jungkook?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you, “Don’t you know?”

“Um… he hasn’t talked to me in a week,” you look down at your hands, your mouth dry.

“Jesus fuck,” Taehyung groans, “No wonder he’s been in such a fucking mood. What did he do?”

You weren’t sure how to go about your answer. Um, yeah, so like Jungkook wanted me to go home with him to have sex and I did too and I didn’t and I don’t know why. Sounds great.

“It wasn’t him. It was me,” you pause, “He asked me to go home with him.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen slightly, a small smirk on his face, “Did you?”

You shake your head, “No, I couldn’t bring myself to. I wanted to but…” you trail off, slightly embarrassed to be telling Taehyung this.

“Goddammit,” he nearly laughs, “No wonder he’s pissy. Between you and tomorrow, kid’s got his work cut out.” You pick up Taehyung joking around but you still furrow your eyebrows.

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask.

“The 13th. Did he not tell you?” Fuck. His fight. Without talking to Jungkook everyday, you had forgotten about the fight.

“He mentioned it.”

“Are you going?” The question catches you off guard.

“What, oh no,” you shake your head, “No, he didn’t ask and I don’t think that’s something I wanna see anyways.”

“Trust me, he wants you there,” he says, “He’s just being a dick.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” you snap. “Every time something happens between us… he shuts me off. I don’t fucking get it.”

“Y/N he does this to everyone when he’s stressed,” Taehyung pauses, “Especially since, you know,” he shrugs. The fights.

You nod, “I get it,” you slump, “It’s still frustrating.”

“You don’t have to tell me that—at least you don’t live with him,” he gives you a laugh and you send a smile in return.

“How do you feel about it?” You ask him genuinely, “The boxing I mean…”

Taehyung squints his eyes briefly, “I think it’s stupid personally,” this answer warms your heart until he continues, “But if I was as good as Jungkook I would probably do it too. The money in these things are insane.”

You raise your eyebrows, “So I’ve heard.”

Taehyung nods before he gets a text on his phone. He reads it before smiling.

“Your girlfriend?” You probe curiously.

He clears his throat, “Uh, yeah,” he responds quickly before turning his phone over. “So, what exactly is going on between you two?”

“Uh, what do you mean?” You laugh sarcastically.

Taehyung deadpans his face, “You know what I mean. I know you guys have this weird chemistry, it’s obvious. Plus he hasn’t shut up about you since you started tutoring him. Y/N this, Y/N that… it’s disgusting.”

Did Jungkook really talk about you?

“Ask him, not me because I don’t even fucking know. I could tell you what Kim Namjoon and I are before I could define mine and Jungkook’s relationship.” You let out a laugh and other eye roll.

“I’m assuming you and hyung are… what do they say? Friends with…?”

“Yeah yeah whatever you wanna call it,” you swat your hand slightly embarrassed.

“Jungkook hates it you know,” he says, switching tones. “You and Namjoon.”

You slightly snort, “And why is that?” You could tell Jungkook didn’t like seeing you with Namjoon, even before last weekend after he voiced it.

“Because he knows Namjoon is the type of guy you’ve always wanted, not him.” This takes you completely off guard.

“Why would Jungkook care about that?” You furrow.

Taehyung shrugs, staying silent this time. You weren’t stupid—you knew what Taehyung was implying by saying what he said. It makes your stomach drop. Maybe Jungkook felt more for you than he supposed to as well?

“So are you gonna come tomorrow?” He asks.

“No Taehyung,” you say, “I don’t want to see Jungkook get the shit beat out of him.”

“Jungkook won’t get the shit beat out of him, I can promise you that.”

You eyes glance over to the door as a small group of people walk into the diner. You don’t say anything else to Taehyung as you walk over to greet them. You seat them and make your way back to Taehyung, but you can’t chat much longer as you now have a table to tend to.

“Listen Y/N,” Taehyung stops you before you can walk back over with menus for the group, “If you wanna come, just text me. Like I said Jungkook wants you there, whether he’s said so or not. Also, another latte please, you’re slacking woman.”

You swat him with the menus before walking away from him. Goddamn, these next 24 hours were going to be hell.

_____

You couldn’t remember the last time you were ever this nervous for someone aside from yourself in a very long time. You remember how nervous you were in high school when you got injured and Jennie had to double with a girl on the bench of the tennis team. You remember being nervous for your parents when you left for college. And now, you don’t ever recall a moment in your life where you have been this nervous for Jeon Jungkook of all people.

It was Friday at 3:43 PM and you day was slow but painless, and you had no official plans set for the evening. Taehyung had texted you, wondering if you wanted to hitch a ride along with him to the match. You had yet to answer him. His text mocking you from your screen and you wanted to pretend that you knew nothing of the boxing match but that was impossible.

[You 3:59 PM] What time should I be ready

You send the message before you could regret it and delete it. Jennie has yet to be home from going to the store and you would need a good, yet believable excuse for your absence tonight.

[Taehyung 4:00 PM] i’ll pick you up around 8

[You 4:00 PM] Sounds good. Have you spoken to Jungkook today?

[Taehyung 4:02 PM] no he’s been quiet all day. have you?

[You 4:02 PM] Nope

You don’t receive another text from him and you slump down on your couch. It had been nearing two full weeks since Jungkook had spoken to you. You felt like all of this was your fault, sending him mixed signals and unsure of your own feelings for him. From the secretive finger fuck to the gentle kiss you shared last week, Jungkook was on your mind 24/7—aside from taking exams of course—but he was all you could think about lately. Growing up, you obviously loved Jungkook and was practically glued to his hip, but even then you don’t recall thinking about him every single fucking second.

You pull at the roots of your hair and let out a frustrated groan. Maybe you should reach out? After all, without your initiation of friendship all those years ago, you wouldn’t be here now.

You pick up your phone and find Jungkook’s contact and before you can stop yourself, you tap the call button. Your hands are clammy and you know he probably won’t answer, but it’s worth a try. The line rings for about thirty seconds before it goes dead. That dumbass doesn’t even have voicemail set up.

Pissed off even more, you slam your phone against the coffee table and let out an exasperated ‘fuck’ before going to your room to take a nap. Fuck Jeon Jungkook, is the last thought you have before you drift off into sleep.

_____

Taehyung picked you up at 8:02, though you told Jennie it was Namjoon who picked you up and the two of you were having a night in. You think she believed it but left her before she could ask anymore questions.

“I just don’t fucking get it Taehyung, one second he’s fine and another he’s like a child throwing a fit,” you filled Taehyung in on how you tried to call him but to no avail.

“You don’t have to tell me how he is Y/N, I fucking live with the guy,” he groans from his drivers seat. “I just think he’s going through a lot right now… with school, his parents, the boxing, you… he’s never handle stress that well you know that.”

You let out a sigh, leaning against the window, “It’s just so frustrating trying to help him only to get cut off like this…”

Taehyung looks at you with an eyeful glance though you don’t notice. “Y/N, in his eyes you’ve cut him off too, you do realize that right?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What? No I haven’t?”

“Come on the little brat can’t keep his mouth shut. I know what happened with you two a couple weeks ago,” he says. You don’t say anything, cheeks getting warm. “And the weeks before that on our fucking balcony—“

“Okay what then Tae!” You interrupt him, too embarrassed by the memory.

“Jungkook is trying Y/N,” he says with a hint of a smirk, “He thinks you’re rejecting him,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly.

“Rejecting? C’mon Taehyung you know that I—“

“I know that you and Jungkook like each other, even though neither one of you have said anything, Jennie says it too.”

You narrow your eyebrows at your friend. “I don’t know what I think about Jungkook okay?” You’re being honest. You know you like Jungkook… but you’re scared of what that entails for the future. You want Jungkook in your future, you just don’t know what the right path is.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else as he pulls his car into a fairly full parking garage. It’s dimly lit and slightly freaks you out. Taehyung had to drive to the other side of the city to get here and you don’t recognize the neighborhood around.

“Stay close to me, alright?” Taehyung opened your door for you and you nod without any argument. You follow Taehyung out of the parking garage into the chilly air and you huddle by his side. The two of you walk down a couple streets before he turns down a dark, dimly lit alleyway.

“Taehyung what the fuck,” you whisper and come to a halt. His brown eyes bleed into yours despite the darkness and he takes your hand into his.

“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly, “I promise.”

You nod reluctantly and the you continue to walk down the alley, coming to a stop at the end where you spot the familiar face of Min Yoongi. He’s standing down a small flight of stairs beneath you two and he greets Taehyung with a stiff smile.

“Taehyung, what’s up,” he says, his eyes immediately looking over at you, “Y/N?”

You tighten your grip around Taehyung’s hand, Yoongi’s stare quite intimidating.

“She should be on Jungkook’s list.”

You stay quiet knowing Taehyung doing the talking is the best strategy. Yoongi looks down at a clipboard—old fashioned but effective you guess—before nodding.

“You guys are good. Hurry and find a seat, there’s a lot of people down here tonight.”  

“You got it,”  Taehyung gives him a small smile before you drag behind him down the stairs and enter through a heavy door. You already hear plenty of commotion as you enter a huge space a few feet from the door. Your eyes look around and you could see nearly a hundred people just in your line of sight.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung says.

“What?” You get nervous by his tone.

“I’ve never seen this many people here, goddamn.”

“Why are there so many people here?” You spot a large boxing ring, dead center of the room and your mouth goes dry.

“I guess people like rematches?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, noticing how some eyes are staring at you, making you shift uncomfortably in your boots.

“Probably in the locker rooms… wanna see him?” He asks.

You bite your lip. “Does he wanna see us?” You hope Taehyung says yes. It’s killing you inside not being able to see him, hear him.

“Guess we’ll find out, c’mon,” he smirks and you follow him closely. As you look around, you do notice people you somewhat recognize. Whether it’s from walking around on campus or some of your classes, all these faces are not too unfamiliar. Taehyung takes you away from the crowd of people, through another set of doors and down another hallway. With this much walking and standing, you would have worn something other than booties. You enter the “locker room” area and you suddenly feel queasy. What if Jungkook is mad that you’re here? What if he doesn’t want to see you after all? What if—

“Y/N?” Your thoughts are broken by a honey-like voice and you focus in on the source. Jungkook sits a few feet away from you and Taehyung, back leaning against a wall. He looks confused, but also pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here?” He gets up and does the unexpected—he embraces you in a tight hug. You return it without a second though, holding him close to you. He pulls away from you after a few moments and gives Taehyung a small hug too.

“Hey,” you say shyly.

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks his friend and Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m alright.” Jungkook looks at you again. “I didn’t think you’d ever come to one of these,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Me either,” you say with no expression. As much as you wanted to be happy—you couldn’t. You were pissed at Jungkook for ignoring you and you were pissed that Jungkook was about to fight. You eye his frame, a white t shirt and navy sweatpants hang low on his hips. He looks calm, too calm for your liking.

“Will you give us a minute?” Jungkook suddenly turns to Taehyung and he nods glancing at you.

“I’ll get some seats.”

Taehyung leaves you and Jungkook alone and you nearly feel like crying. What the fuck is this mess?

“Y/N listen to me,” Jungkook says stepping towards you, “I’m so sorry about thess past two weeks. I-I’ve been a dick for no fucking reason and it’s not fair to you.”

You don’t say anything as you stand there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Fuck I know I’m idiot and there’s no excuse… I’ve just been so stressed lately and you’re the best fucking part of my day—“

“Well why don’t you fucking act like it Jungkook? I’m sick of something happening between us and you acting like a I don’t exist for god knows what reason,” you raise your voice slightly.

“Y/N I,” he pauses, his hands finding their way to your shoulders, “I haven’t been honest with you and,” he pauses again and you feel your heart speed up. What’s he talking about? “I just wanna say—“

“Jungkook, you got five minutes,” the two of you turn to Park Jimin who seemed to come in at the wrong time.

“Fuck,” he says, “We’ll talk after okay?”

You nod hesitantly and before you can push yourself away from him, Jungkook places a kiss on your forehead and it makes your insides melt. Fuck, you meet his brown eyes, biting your lip nervously. 

A revelation springs into your mind; you think you might love him. He pulls you in for another hug, though this is one much shorter as Jimin is ushering you out of the locker room in the blink of an eye.

As much as you wanted to be mad at Jungkook, those thoughts had quickly subsided and replaced with butterflies and nausea. Did you really love Jungkook? You always have, but the feeling in the pit of your heart is pulling you to a different type of love. You cared about him, sometimes even more than yourself. You’ve always wanted the best for him, even if that meant sacrificing your feelings in the process. Now you were stuck between a rock in a hard place, much like you were back in high school when you had a crush on Jungkook. Fuck. And now you have to watch him fight someone like dogs,  

You shake yourself from your thoughts, as loud music flows through your ears and you look around for Taehyung. Luckily, his ashy hair color is easy to spot amongst the crowd and you push yourself to him, squeezing in between bodies and their chatter.

“My bet’s on Jeon,” a voice says.

“Fuck no, Eric isn’t gonna let the same guy beat him twice.”

You try to ignore the snide comments about Jungkook and when you get to Taehyung, he greets you with a smile.

“Hey, everything good?” He asks.

You lick you dry lips, “I don’t know,” you say honestly. Taehyung’s eyes drop and he nods. 

Suddenly, all the lights go out in the venue and a roar of screams and cheers fills the void. You stay still, pressing your body close to Taehyung. It’s not that you feel unsafe, but this environment—it wasn’t for you at all. You heart rate quickens when a man, give a few years on your age, gets into the boxing ring before you, the crowd cheering even louder for him. He bumps a microphone with his palm before bringing it to his mouth.

“Welcome, welcome!” He beams with a smile, “What an outstanding turnout we have tonight! You guys choose a good one to watch because tonight is the rematch of two of the best fighters I’ve seen in a long time…”

“Let’s give a welcome to our first fighter, weighing in at 148 pounds, 5 foot 11, Jeon Jungkook!”

Being an underground fighting ring, there isn’t a posse escorting Jungkook to the ring. He’s got Jimin by his left side, Min Yoongi on the right. Jungkook is shirtless, wearing only a pair of navy shorts, black and white boxing gloves on his hands. He enters the ring with cheers and you inhale and exhale deeply. You look up at Taehyung and he gives you a nod of reassurance to calm down. Jungkook jumps around in place a few times, shaking his arms and shoulders out. From your seat, you can’t read his eyes or facial expression—but he looks calm and unnerved.

“Coming in next, weighing in at 145 pounds, 6 feet tall, Kim Eric!”

Jungkook’s opponent walks in next, three guys surrounding him. He walks slow and steady, his bare chest tattooed beautifully, his boxing gloves a dark red. He enters the ring to cheers and this Eric guy’s gaze doesn’t leave Jungkook’s body one time. Jungkook hasn’t spared one glance at the guy and you find yourself somewhat smiling. Jungkook has always been a cocky-fuck when it’s come to sports which would usually annoy you, but here right now—he looked hot as fuck standing there as if he had no care in the world. Jungkook stands on the left corner of the ring, sitting on a small stool as Jimin and Yoongi talk to him. Jungkook nods, absorbing their information. Eric and his guys do the same.

Suddenly, both men stand and Jimin is putting a mouth guard in Jungkook’s mouth and with one last nod, he finally looks over at Eric, who has already made his way to the center of the ring with the announcer. Jungkook stalks over slowly, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Alright guys, I want a clean fight. No kicking, no cheap shots. If you get knocked down, I give you ten seconds to get up. You look me in the eyes and say you’re good before anymore fighting happens alright. We go for five rounds, unless more is needed. A knockout wins. Touch gloves.”

Jungkook sticks out his gloves for Eric but Eric only stares at him, ignoring the sign of solidarity.

“Fuck you,” Eric says to Jungkook and sends a chill down your spine. Jungkook rolls his eyes, backing away from him, but stays silent.

“Alright… ready… fight!”

Time slows as a bell rings loudly, the cheers get even louder, and you find yourself gripping Taehyung’s arm for support. Jungkook starts to move around the ring slowly, but Eric isn’t having that—immediately rushing to Jungkook to get a few jabs in. Jungkook manages to dodge them perfectly before Eric can corner him. Jungkook keeps his gloves high and never looks away from Eric. Eric comes after Jungkook again, jabbing once—twice—the third time hitting Jungkook square in the face.

“Shit,” you breathe out, eyes widening.

This time, Jungkook comes for Eric, his jabs coming quick and calculated, landing Eric in the body once. Jungkook jabs again and hits him in the face. Eric moves around quickly, Jungkook not quick to follow him. Eric comes after him again, Jungkook blocking his jabs, but missing at the end, leading to Jungkook getting hit in the face once again as well as a body shot.

Eric is coming in hot, throwing punches and jabs left and right, making Jungkook dance around to dodge them. After a few moments, Jungkook begins to fight back, landing Eric square in the face twice. You notice that Jungkook must have busted Eric’s lip as blood now protrudes from his mouth. This seems to send Eric into overdrive and attacks Jungkook quick and fast. You cover your mouth when Eric has Jungkook trapped against the rope, landing body punches after body punches.

“Alright!! Enough, break it up!!” The announcer gets Eric off of Jungkook and Eric starts to laugh in a very showman's way. Jungkook is breathing heavy and he tilts his head—a habit of his that comes out when he’s frustrated or angry. This seems to be both.

Jungkook and Eric continue to throw jabs at one another. Within a few seconds, the whole fight seems to change as Eric manages to slip past one of Jungkook’s blocks and lands him straight on the cheekbone. Jungkook’s body almost freezes before he falls back on the floor and you gasp at the sight.

“Fuck! Taehyung—“

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” he says but his eyes never met yours.

The announcer is on the floor with Jungkook counting down from ten and Jungkook finally sits up when he reaches the number four.

“You good son?” The guy asks Jungkook.

He nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jungkook gets up and walks around, stretching his neck around, waiting for the ref to announce the second round.

“That’s what you get motherfucker,” Eric says walking past him to his corner. Again, Jungkook says nothing before sitting down. Jimin takes out his mouth guard and lets Jungkook drink some water.

“Why is Jungkook letting him hit him like that?!” You ask Taehyung, looking up to him, “He’s getting his ass kicked!”

Taehyung shakes his head, “Jungkook’s smart Y/N… he’s trying to run Eric’s energy out. If Eric keeps swinging the way he right now, he’ll be passed out on his own soon.”

The second round commences and this time, it’s Jungkook who comes out fast. Jungkook soon has Eric trapped against the rope, landing jab after jab. The ref intervenes and lets them get some air. Jungkook’s skin is sweaty and red hot and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look as mad as he does right now.

Eric counters quickly, catching up with Jungkook again, landing punch after punch. Jungkook escapes but Eric sticks out a foot, causing Jungkook to trip. The whole crowd—yourself included—start to yell at the action. The referee pulls Eric back and points his finger at him. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know it’s a scolding by the way his mouth is moving quickly. You look over at Jungkook who shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s talking to Jimin as Yoongi cares to a cut on Jungkook’s eyebrow.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” you make out Jungkook saying.

The third round starts and it seems both Eric and Jungkook are equally fighting this time. Jungkook’s combinations are cleaner than Eric’s, anyone can see that, but the way Eric keeps landing in on Jungkook—makes you feel like this isn’t going to end well for him.

“Come on Jungkook!” You find yourself yelling in the chaos, your whole body shaking as Jungkook dances around the ring to get away from Eric. Eric has him trapped again, but with Jungkook’s strength, gets Eric off of him to turn the tables. There’s sweat and blood coming off both fighters and it’s got to be the most horrifying thing you’ve ever seen.

“Come on you little bitch,” Eric spits at Jungkook, “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Jungkook says nothing again, jabbing when he needs to.

“Fucking hell why won’t you speak to me you fucker?” Eric speaks again.

“I don’t have shit to say to you,” Jungkook finally retorts back. “You lost my respect when you sent those pussies to jump Park and I.”

Eric swings hard and Jungkook ducks, barely missing it by an inch. Eric is tired, Jungkook too, but Jungkook can see a weakness in him now.

“Come on it was all in good fun,” he says with a smirk, “You know what else would be good fun?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

“Kicking your ass,” he pauses and before Jungkook can do anything else, Eric swings down hard, landing on Jungkook’s body knocking the breath out of him. Jungkook stumbles backwards, holding his stomach, he lands again on the ground with a clunk. Eric stands over him, before taking out his mouthpiece, “And stealing your bitch you invited tonight.”

“Goddammit,” you mutter watching the scene unfold in front of you. No one knows what they’re saying to each other over the noise and you honestly couldn’t care. You just want Jungkook to get up and finish this shit.

Jungkook stands up, though with a visible wince in his face. He’s breathing heavy and is filled with pure rage. The fourth bell rings and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to attack him. Jungkook is fast and furious, landing punch after punch and you’ve never been happier for someone to get their ass kicked. Jungkook lands a punch straight across the face, causing Eric to stumble backwards. Even though you know nothing about boxing, Eric looks exhausted where Jungkook looks ready for more. With everything left in Eric, he starts coming after Jungkook. Jungkook blocks until he can’t block no more, but something in Jungkook’s stance changes. Jungkook steps forward, his right hand landing straight on Eric’s face cause his form to break. Jungkook steps quickly again, his left hand bringing an uppercut to Eric’s jaw.

The room nearly falls silent as Eric loses balance, going down straight on his back and head. When he hits the ground, the room erupts in a roar so loud it nearly deafens you.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. The ref is down on the ground, counting down from 10, and then it’s at 5 and then 3 and then—

“Ladies and gentlemen, Jeon Jungkook wins this rematch!” The ref grabs Jungkook’s hand and holds it up over his head and you find yourself jumping up and down, pulling Taehyung down for a hug.

“Taehyung oh my fucking god!” You exclaim. He smiles brightly at you.

“I told you, he knows what he’s doing,” he says and you nod. You couldn’t deny it now—as stupid as Jungkook was for getting involved in this, his talent for the sport was extraordinary. “Come on, let’s get to his locker room,” Taehyung pulls you by your hand and you make your way back to where you were earlier.

Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet, but you find Yoongi already in there, setting out a first aid kit.

“Hey guys,” he says, “Great fight, huh?”

“Yeah, it was brilliant,” Taehyung says. The door opening catches your attention and Jungkook walks through with Jimin.  Your eyes instantly meet and you can’t even stop yourself from running to him and throwing your arms around him. He exhales deeply with a sharp wince, returning your bone crushing grip with his own.

“Alright lovebirds, he needs to get fixed up,” Yoongi’s voice interrupts you two. You hesitantly let him go and he sits down in front of Yoongi, sitting forward on his knees. He’s still breathing heavy, dripping sweat everywhere.

“Fucking hell Jungkook, since when do you box southpaw?” Taehyung pushes his shoulder slightly and Jungkook only laughs as Yoongi wipes away the blood on his eyebrow.

“I’ve been working on it for awhile,” he says, “Just never had the right time to use it… until tonight at least,” he says giving you a glance. “Eric is all talk, no bite. I can’t fucking stand him.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be boxing him again anytime soon,” Jimin says, “He’s embarrassed himself twice now.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Yoongi chimes in, placing one of those bandaids that pull the skin together like stitches above Jungkook’s eyebrow. “No one will want to box you now knowing you can southpaw.”

Jungkook looks at you and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He said he wasn’t going to fight after this, but the way they are talking—it sounds as if he is.

“Well, I think my boxing career is probably over after tonight,” Jungkook speaks up as if he could read your mind. He tears his eyes away from you as the others look confused.

“What?!”

“Why?”

“Jungkook c’mon!”

“Guys,” he breathes out, “I made a promise, okay? Besides, I have enough money now, I don’t need anything else.”

Your features soften as you listen to his words. His promise was to you. A smile grows on your face as you watch his body calm down from his intensified state. Once Yoongi is finished, he packs everything up. The five of you talk amongst yourselves before Taehyung turns to you.

“You ready to go home?” He asks.

“I can take you home,” Jungkook says before you can answer.

“Okay,” you give him a small smile that he returns.

“Okay then, I’m gonna head out, I won’t be home tonight Jungkook,” he says.

“I know I know, at your girlfriends,” Jungkook swats his hand and Taehyung flips him off before leaving.

Jungkook stands up throwing on a shirt and slipping into Birkenstocks. “Come on,” he says to you, holding out his head. You gladly take it and it feels more like home than home ever has.

_____

“Fuck Jungkook, how much money is this?” You ask him as he hands you a white envelope as he unbuckles himself in the driver seat. The envelope is thick and you peak out of curiosity, your jaw dropping.

“I told you,” he says snatching it back from you, “As much food as I’ve bought you lately, hopefully this will last.”

You swat at his sarcastic comment before letting out a laugh. Instead of going home, you asked Jungkook to go anywhere but there. You’re parked outside of his apartment complex, which was fine with you. The two of you needed to talk. Not much talking goes on as a silence falls between you two.

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook.”

The two of you laugh as you speak at the same time.

“You first,” you say, turning your body to face him fully.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, “I know I said it earlier but I really am sorry about this past week. There’s not an excuse that justifies me acting like a complete dick to you, especially when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say.

“And when I said you’re the best part of my day… I fucking mean it. I’m sorry for coming onto you like I have, I just,” he doesn’t finish, his eyes looking everywhere but you.

“Jungkook,” you get his attention again, reaching over the console to grab his hand, “Don’t apologize for that. Yeah, you’ve been a dick each time something happens between us but that’s the apology I care about.”

“I just don’t know how to say it,” he mutters, caressing your hand gently.

“So you’re really not going to box anymore?” you inquire. Jungkook was good, more than good... it couldn’t be easy giving up on that. 

He shakes his head, “No. I told you I didn’t want you worrying about me anymore. I keep my promises,” his smile his sweet and you swear your feel yourself melting more and more into his touch. 

“Jungkook,” you let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t realize how much I needed you in my life until we became friends again. You know almost everything about me and I don’t want anyone else to ever take your place…”

It’s hanging there by a thread—the words on your tongue—and you’re not sure you can say them and they feel constricting—but you know you have to and—

“I love you,” the words come from your mouth and you feel like you could puke. “I don’t know when or why, but I’m in love with you Jungkook. You’re all I think about anymore and I don’t want anyone else when you’re right here.”

Jungkook parts his mouth, staring at you with a look you can’t read. Fuck, you fucked this up for sure.

“Shit—I know that was so rushed and stupid. Fuck I’m an idiot—“

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice interrupts you and you try to hide within your own body from embarrassment. With your hand of yours in his, he pulls on it, forcing you closer to him. You look at him wide eyed before he presses his lips against yours firmly. As usual, his lips feel so good and you melt into him. This is good right? What the hell is going on? You pull away from him after a few moments, an unsure look on your face.

He nuzzles his nose against your own before speaking, “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the night of our graduation.”

“Really?” You ask as you feel your palms sweat, heart racing.

He nods, “I’ve been in love with you for god knows how long now.”

A smile creeps upon your face and you let out a sigh of relief. Jungkook watches you with interest, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can take you home whenever,” he says quietly.

You’re quick to shake your head,  “No, it’s okay… I can stay, if you want,” your voice trails off and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze.

You don’t notice how Jungkook bites his lip but he does say, “Yeah. Of course.”

_____

Jungkook’s apartment is how you remember it, though a lot quieter without Taehyung here. You’re sure the reason Jungkook’s apartment is spotless is because of him. He has always been clean and organized and Taehyung… well he was Taehyung.

“I’m gonna get in the shower, my room is in here if you wanna chill,” Jungkook says and you give him a small nod. He rids his shirt before he even closes the bathroom door and it makes you gulp. This is new territory for the both of you. The two of you just admitted your love for one another and you’re about to spend the night with Jungkook? And not in a friend way? Jesus Christ you could be tripping.

You walk into Jungkook’s room and it smells just like him. His bed is neatly made and his desk is sprawled with two computer monitors and some notebooks from school. His walls are decorated as you’d expect—a Korean flag hanging, a ‘Saturday’s Are For The Boys’ flag—typical—and a few Beta Tae Sigma plaques scattered. What catches your eye is a wall of neatly lined photos taped to the wall. You look around at all of them with a smile. Most of them are Jungkook and his frat brothers, Taehyung, a few of his older brother, there’s even a picture of you, him, Taehyung, and Jennie from high school. One that catches your eye the most is one of just you and him. It’s an old picture but the memories from that day flood your mind. It was from your first week of freshman year here at university. Both of your smiles are wide and you two are hugging each other’s frames closely. Jennie took the picture you remember. It makes you smile to yourself, butterflies entering in your stomach. Did you love Jungkook then and didn’t know it? The way you’re looking at him in the picture would say so.

You suddenly feel an urge to be close to him again. You’ve never been a ballsy person but as you look back at the bathroom door that’s closed, your desire to be touched again by Jungkook again overwhelms your senses. Closing your eyes briefly, you don’t need much more convincing before your stripping yourself of your jacket and shoes. You kick off your jeans and sweater, leaving you only in your undergarments. You tip toe to the bathroom, grabbing the handle, opening it easy.

The shower water is loud and there’s steam in the small quarters. Jungkook is humming to himself as you start to take off the rest of your clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the shower curtain, pulling it back. Jungkook’s back is facing you but he hears you instantly.

“Shit Y/N you scar—“ he stops mid sentence as he takes in your naked frame getting in the shower too.

“Hi,” you mumble meeting his eye contact.  

“H-hey,” he nearly chokes on his own air, trying to keep his eyes up from your breasts.

“Scooch,” you smirk at him to move to get underneath the water too. He does as you say watching you curiously. You’re in the process of wetting your hair when his chest is pressed firmly against your back.

“This wasn’t expected,” he says into your ear, his hands moving to grip your waist from behind.

“You’re the one that wanted me to go home with you,” you say giving him an innocent glance over your shoulder. He laughs biting his lip, pressing them against the skin behind of your ear. You lean into the physical contact, feeling almost all of your stress go away instantly.

You spin around to look at him fully as it’s a frenzy whose mouth collides with whose. He leans down to grasp your lips in their entirety, pulling you closer to him than you ever have been. He pulls you away from the water so it doesn’t get in your face as he presses you against the shower wall. His tongue dips in and out of your mouth, his hands free roaming over your breasts and down to your ass, whatever he likes within the moment. Your hands grip his dark locks as he moves his mouth from your mouth, to your neck, down to your chest. He waste no time taking your right nipple in his mouth and you exhale deeply at the feeling.

You pull his face back to yours, kissing him again not able to get enough of his lips. His hands trail down from your ass to the front of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your wet center.

“Is this okay?” He asks as his fingers rub slowly back forth between your entrance. You can barely speak as his touch is setting you on fire but you manage to nod.

“Yes, please, Jungkook,” you say. He enters one finger, then another stretching you out nicely. Fuck you forgot how good this felt with him.

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he breathes heavily and you glance down at his hardening cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. Jungkook lifts one of your legs and starts to take his fingers in and out of you slowly and agonizing. He fingers you deep and rough and you can already feel a climax coming.

“Shit,” you croak out as Jungkook rubs one of your nipples, kissing your neck. There’s a pain at the back of your head at his force pushing you against the wall but it’s easy to ignore when it feels so good below your waist. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come,” you say as the snap inside of you is about to break.

“Come on baby,” his voice is deep and groggy. As if on cue, you feel your climax wash over you and you’re not shy to be loud. You know no one is here so it doesn’t bother you one bit. Jungkook kisses you against feverishly as he pulls his fingers from you. You feel impossibly empty but you know what you want to do and you’re not near anywhere tired. Your hands travel down to his front, grasping his hard dick in your hands. God, he’s so big.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook seethes through his teeth as you pull on the sensitive skin, all the way from his pubic hair down to the tip. He places a hand beside of your head, leaning forward against your forehead. His eyes are shut tightly and you lick your lips, wanting to take him in your mouth.

You push him away from you slightly and move down to your knees, your face front and center with his beautiful dick. You take no time to put him in your mouth which causes Jungkook to groan loudly.

“Y/N,” he says looking down at you. He’s never seen a better sight. You make sure to keep eye contact as you bob your head up and down his shaft. While one of Jungkook’s hands stays against the wall, his other grips your hair, fisting it into a makeshift ponytail. “Oh fuck—He pulls on your hair and it only makes you want to please him more. Your left hand go to his balls, the right helping you up and down his length. He pulls your hair again and you take as much of him as you can. His tip reaches the back of your throat and you gag around his length and Jungkook thinks he could actually cry. Watching you through half open lids, he decides this isn’t how he is going to come—not tonight at least.

He grabs your hair and pulls you away from him and you’re slightly confused when he brings you to your feet.

“Come on, I need to be inside of you,” he says and you nod eagerly as he turns off the shower. He leads you out of the bathroom in a frenzy, pulling up into his bedroom. You shut the door behind you and he pins you against it, kissing you hard and deep.

Both of you are dripping wet but neither of you care to dry off as he carries you to his bed. You settle on his lap as his hands rest on your waist tightly. Your hands grip his face just as tight but you’re careful not to touch his injury above his brow. You couldn’t believe he was just fighting two hours ago—that seemed like forever ago compared to now. A lot can change in a short period of time and it makes you slightly chuckle against his mouth.  

“What?” He breaks the kiss asking you with a hazy grin.

You shake your head, “Nothing,” you smile pushing his hair from his forehead. You liked seeing it. “I love you,” you repeat. And you probably won’t stop, ever.

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.”

“Let me ride you,” you whisper in his ear and his eyes light up like a child. “Are you clean?” You ask him. 

He nods quickly, “You?” You nod in response and both of you feel excited and anxious. 

You rub your hand against his length again and you hold it up as you adjust yourself to sit on him. As soon as his tip enters you, a shiver runs down your spine. As you sink yourself lower, groans come from both of your mouths, a deep moan erupting from you when you bottom out.

“Oh my god,” you breathe in and out to control yourself.

“Ride me baby,” he says and you start to move your hips against his. He fills up every inch of you and it feels so good. Your hips lift away from his and he chases them with his own thrusts. He kisses your neck as you throw your head back, your hands digging into his shoulders for leverage.  

“Fuck Jungkook,” you say seeing stars in your eyes, “You feel so good,” you whine.

“You have no idea,” he says against your sticky skin, one of his hands bruising into your waist helping you ride him in a fluid motion. “Goddammit,” he says.

As you grind against him, your clit rubs against his pubic hair, sending your toes curling. He senses that you’ve found your sweet spot against him and places his thumb there instead to rub the sensitive bud.

You feel yourself inching closer and closer to a second climax when Jungkook stalls your motion.

“Lay on your stomach,” he breathes and you do as he says climbing off of him quickly. He doesn’t even give you time to get there all the way before he’s grabbing your hips to pull your ass to him. He slides right into you and you nearly scream into his mattress. Your hands grip the sheets as he fucks you deeper from behind. He smacks your ass once, twice sending a loud whine from your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter trying to focus on Jungkook’s whines and small ministrations from his mouth. He reaches forward, rubbing your clit again and you want to die and go to heaven at the feeling. Neither of you try to be quiet anymore as you feel the second orgasm coming over you. You clench and unclench around Jungkook’s length as he stalls his thrusts to feel the action.

“Come inside of me,” you say, knowing both of you are clean and you have an IUD.

“Jesus,” he breathes, picking up his pace again chasing after his own high. As the sensitivity becomes too much, Jungkook finally lets go, coming deep inside of you. He holds your hips close against him, trying to deepen his climax as far as possible. The hot cum inside of you feels good and you moan at the feeling.

When Jungkook finishes completely in you, he pulls out with a sigh. You collapse against the bed, completely spent. Jungkook finds a clean rag in his pile of clean laundry and is quick to clean yourself and him up. You feel like you can barely move as Jungkook joins you in his bed. He turns you over to face him and he kisses you gently which you return happily.

“I love you,” he says for the third time tonight, kissing your nose.

“I love you too,” you entangling your legs together. The room is silent apart from your breathing and you’re about to go to sleep when he nudges you with his hand.  

“Come on,” he says.

“What?” You ask.

“Let’s actually take a shower now since someone wouldn’t let me,” he eyes you with accusation.

You squint at him before flipping him off. “Fuck off.”

_____

The next morning you wake up with Jungkook hugging you from behind, his face nuzzeled in your hair. You have no clue what the time may be, but you since it’s early by the way the birds chirp out the window. You stretch out your arms as best as you could and try to move your legs, but it doesn’t work since Jungkook’s heavy legs are tangled with your own. You’re tempted to fall back asleep but when Jungkook moves behind you, you turn to see his ruckus. You’re met with his brown eyes and you jump slightly, not expecting to see him awake. Both of you let out the faintest of laughs, not saying anything.

Jungkook leans over and kisses your lips, “Good morning.” His voice is groggy and he shuts his eyes again as you fully turn your body to his.

“Good morning,” you respond, watching the way his chest rises and falls gently. “How’d you sleep?”

“Hmm, really good,” he mumbles. You are about to join him in closing your eyes again until a loud rumble comes from your belly. Jungkook laughs.

“Hungry much?”

“Starving,” you groan, “I didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Why not?”

“I was too nervous before your match… I thought I would yak if I ate,” you answer. Stupid, you know, but it was your train of thought last night.

He opens his eyes again, “Let’s go to the diner for breakfast… employee discount.”

You glare at him, “Is that all I am to you? A fucking employee discount,” you say saracastically.

“And my girlfriend if that helps?” He raises an eyebrow. Your cheeks heat up and you smile.

“Welllll, since my boyfriend is rich now and gets a discount, I’m assuming he’s paying.”

He smirks, “Obviously.”

“Will you take me to my place so I can change? And then we’ll go?”

He nods, his hand caressing the side of your body, “As much as I wanna stay in bed, I could really go for pancakes right now.”

“Waffles are superior,” you remark.

He frowns with a disgusted face, “Get the fuck out of my bed you heathen.”

_____

Jungkook insisted on coming up to your apartment with you because he didn’t want to wait in the car, but you know he just wants to see you change in front of him. Boys are all the fucking same.

As you fumbled with the key, the door opens and whatever Jungkook is saying to you is suddenly drowned out when you see—

“Jennie?”

“Taehyung?”

The names leave yours and Jungkook’s mouth as you watch the scene in front of you. Jennie is sitting on the counter, Taehyung in between her legs with a coffee cup in hand. Could be worse but what the fuck is going on?!

“Shit,” Jennie says pushing away Taehyung. “Hey guys,” she smiles awkwardly. You and Jungkook look at each other confused before Jungkook speaks.

“Uh, Taehyung?” He asks and Taehyung is. as red as a tomato.

“Oh fuck,” Jennie mutters shaking her head. She looks at Taehyung for backup.

Taehyung pinches his nose before speaking, “Um… we’re dating.”

You and Jungkook have the same reaction as your mouth drops.

“Jennie is your secret girlfriend?” Jungkook asks.

“Surprise,” Jennie smiles again looking at you.

You look at Jungkook and shake your head at the four of you. What a fucking cliché.

The four of you go to breakfast together that morning and it’s like old times, just with a sprinkle of something new. As long as the four of you have known each other, you’ve always had each other’s backs. Even now, with you and Jungkook and Jennie and Taehyung—you know that would never change from here on out. Turns out, Jennie just thought her and Taehyung were friends with benefits, while Taehyung was telling everyone he had a girlfriend because he was that smitten with her. The four of you laugh at the situation at hand and you couldn’t believe everyone was back together... like this. As Jungkook’s pancakes and your waffles arrive, Jungkook’s beaming smile lighting the whole room you think to yourself—this is how it’s supposed to be. 

[crispyjenkins]

Jangobi. After Melida/Daan Obi-wan comes back to the order but qui-gon doesn’t want him anymore so one of the council members jumps at the chance to apprentice him. This leads to him being encouraged to pay attention to his visions and feelings from the force because THEYRE REAL AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GIVE THEM SOME ATTENTION OBI-WAN. Obi gets a vision and a feeling that he needs to follow and tells his master. This leads to them finding Jango while he was still a slave and them freeing him.

(*gonna start putting translations up here like i do on ao3*

cw: drug use, cw: non-consentual drug use. basically second-hand highs from working with spice, nothing graphic but is mentioned a few times.)

Mando’a: kad’au — “lightsaber”, used here intentionally in place of jetii’kad, “Jedi’s saber” “Vor’e te Manda” — “Thank the Manda”, with Manda meaning “the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like” (mandoa.org) “Tion’cuy?” — “Who’s that?”, “Who are you?” confrontational urcir’ijaat — “honor duel”, lit. “honor meet” – look me in the eye and tell me the mandalorians don’t settle more than just elections with trials by combat “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?” — “Who’s watching your back?”, “Where’s your backup?” osik — “shit”

 Even completely fucked second-hand on the inch-thick dusting of spice on every surface of the slave transport, Jango knows the kid hadn’t been on Galidraan.

  Wide brown eyes blink at him through the ray shield keeping Jango and six other slaves in the cramped space barely big enough for two of them, and Jango had thought he’d burned through his rage years ago, but seeing the kid with a kad’au held at their side in a reverse grip ignites something in Jango that he’d thought long dead. 

  They’re not dressed like a Jedi, instead decked in spacer’s rags that hang too-loose from lanky limbs that have yet to hit their last growth spurt, and the chain marking them as a padawan is tucked up into a soft blue cap that clashes rather horribly with the little ginger hair that pokes out the front. They look human, but then, so had Jaster; every Jedi Jango has met before had been human as well, though he knows they’re as diverse as Mandalorians.

  “Vor’e te Manda,” the baby Jedi breathes, and Jango is far too high to tell if he had imagined it or not. He had not thanked the Manda in many years.

  He pushes shakily to his feet, needing to lean on the wall until his head stops feeling like it’s going to float away, and the other slaves skitter as far back into the cell as they can. “Tion’cuy?” Jango hisses, four years of venom dripping from the demand (Who are you?), but the baby Jedi just extinguishes their ’kad and hits the panel next to the door to power down the ray shield.

  “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m here to rescue you.” They smile at everyone hiding behind Jango’s fury, and take a step back to gesture them out of the room. “If you follow this corridor to the starboard side of the transport, you will find a shuttle waiting with nine other freed prisoners,” they say with an obnoxiously-High Coruscanti accent that was completely imperceptible in their Mando’a. “I will not hold it against you if you take one of the escape pods, but my teacher is waiting on Concordia to reprocess your identities back into Republic systems, and we will do all we can to find and contact your families or peoples, if you so wish.”

  Teacher. Not master. And freed prisoners, not slaves.

  Jango growls under his breath, not trusting this Obi-Wan Kenobi as far as he can throw them, but the promise of freedom hangs heavy in the air, and it only takes a moment for his cellmates to decide the risk is worth it, scrambling and shuffling past Kenobi with murmurs of thanks in four different languages.

  Jango doesn’t move.

  He watches Kenobi’s throat bob nervously, as they make no move to follow their “freed prisoners” down the hall.

  He asks again, “Tion’cuy?”

  “Naas’ad jaon’yc.” No one important. “I was simply in the right place at the right time.”

  Banthashit. “Banthashit,” Jango snarls, and Kenobi has the good sense to actually flinch.

  “Look, I know the last thing you want right now is another Jedi, and if you were to demand urcir’ijaat on behalf of your people, I would accept with honor; but, no offense, in the state you’re in, it wouldn’t be much of a fight.” They hook their ’kad on their belt, and nod to the corridor once again. “Now, as engaging as this conversation is, I believe one of the smugglers was able to get a distress call out before I could stop him, and I would really prefer not to meet whoever picks up the signal.” Raising a single brow expectantly, the child gestures for Jango to follow. The kid’s right, of course, Jango couldn’t fight off a rat at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

  Growling, Jango shoves off the wall and somehow keeps both his balance and his feet underneath him, out of pure spite for the arm Kenobi offers in support.

-

  He had fully intended to take one of the escape pods and jettison towards Mandallia instead of Concordia, but halfway across the slave transport that seems even smaller than he'd remembered, Kenobi throws out their arm again, this time to stop Jango just before they turn a corner.

  “Oh, that’s not good,” they mutter and barely manage to duck under the blaster rifle swung at them like a bat, and Jango feels himself be shoved down to the floor against the wall.

  Above him, Kenobi ducks away from a hulking human with a rather unfortunate receding hairline, and all at once, the Jedi seems like a completely different person. Something shutters behind their eyes, expression dropping to a blank indifference that’s belied by the warrior’s ease with which they dodge both vibroblade and swinging blaster, dancing backwards down the hall and leading the yelling smuggler away from Jango.

  Dizzied by his sudden drop from standing to sitting, Jango doesn’t try to get back to his feet, instead watching Kenobi play the other human like a particularly ugly hallikset*. They don't even pull out their kad’au, remaining weaponless as they bounce and weave like they have all the time in the world; were Jango not stoned out of his mind, he’d probably be impressed. 

  Then something flips a switch in Kenobi, and without telegraphing a single twitch, they dive forward instead of away, using their whole arm to knock the blaster to the ground. In the same breath, Kenobi rams their head into the other’s chest in a move that would make most Mandalorians proud, relieving the stunned smuggler of his vibroblade before driving their knee into his chest. 

  The smuggler drops with a muffled clang, and Kenobi steps cleanly out of the way to watch him land face-first on the durasteel floor. Kenobi picks up the rifle, discharging the clip onto the ground, and chucks the whole thing through the nearest open door. They leave the smugglers’s body right where it is.

  “Sorry about that,” Kenobi murmurs, coming back to Jango and helping him to his feet. “I must have missed one of the guards near the back.”

  Something about the phrasing unsettles him, but it takes another moment of forced concentration to put his finger on it. “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?”

  Kenobi grimaces. “I’m not fluent in Mando’a.”

  “Who’s watching your back?” Jango growls, getting right up in their space. “Where the fuck is your backup if your master is on Concordia?”

  The kid —who’s really more of a teen, almost a young adult— winces and tries to start herding Jango towards the shuttle again. “I’m here alone,” they say, almost apologetic, “but I can handle myself.”

  “Your magic wizard mentor let you stage a spiceminer slave rescue on your own?” It goes against anything Jaster had taught him about the Jedi, about an apprentice’s master being as close to a buir as the Jedi will allow; not to mention the galaxy-wide understanding that, if you mess with a padawan, make kriffing sure the master’s dead first.

  Yet, Kenobi’s deepening grimace tells Jango all he needs to know.

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “Look, I didn’t have a whole lot of time, alright?!” Done with being patient, Kenobi grabs his arm and starts dragging Jango quickly through the ship. “We got separated and were going to rendezvous, but if I had waited for him, the spicers would have already moved on!” They yank him down one more hall before they reach the promised shuttle, docked directly to one of the transport’s exterior hatches. Out the nearest viewport, there is indeed another ship approaching, but Jango can’t tell if it’s friendly or not.

  Kenobi doesn’t give him time to figure it out, pushing him into the shuttle and immediately closing the boarding hatch behind them. 

  The other slaves stand around the small cargo bay in various states of drugged-up panic, and if Jango is counting correctly, only one had opted to take an escape pod.

  Far more carefully, Kenobi pushes Jango to the nearest bench, and then goes around the room coaxing the rest into seats as well. Even while gentle about it, murmuring words of assurance in as many languages as they know, Kenobi still moves and speaks with urgency — part of Jango wonders if they’re mind-tricking everyone into compliance. 

  He waits until Kenobi has detached from the transport and properly started their course to the nearest planet, a swirl of grays and browns that can only be Concordia, before following the Jedi up to the absolutely tiny cockpit. 

  There’s barely room for the two pilots’ seats, and the ceiling is so low that even Jango's hair brushes the roof, yet Kenobi looks right at home before the wildly overcomplicated controls.

  They say nothing as Jango drops into the other chair, merely glaring sideways at him until they’re a good ways away from the spicers’ transport. 

  “I do ask that you don’t kill me before we get everyone settled,” Kenobi finally sighs, and Jango almost laughs at them: did they think he came up here just to shivv them? 

  “I’m not going to kill you, Kenobi.” At least, not yet. “You knew who I was.”

  Kenobi winces and flips a blinking switch over their head. “I have a Jedi answer for that, and one where you’re less likely to use that vibroblade in your boot. Which would you prefer?”

  Jango considers them for a moment, and he’s certain now that Kenobi is younger than Jango had been on Galidraan, but not by much: they have one of those faces that eternally makes them look younger than they are, but if he’s over twenty standard, Jango is a Kryze.

  “Both. I want both.”

  “Right.” Visibly steeling themself, Kenobi swallows and adjusts their course slightly; wait, when had they gotten away from that second ship? Had Jango imagined it? Then again, he barely knows up from down at the moment, only grounded by Kenobi’s infuriatingly calm presence. “The easy answer is that I saw your name on the freighter’s manifest when it was docked on Mandalore, and recognised it. I’m on an extended mission in Mandalorian space, and, well, my master thought it would be good to catch me up on the recent history, as I had only briefly learned about the Civil War while in the Temple.”

  He’s pretty sure that makes sense, a logical A to B, an almost maddeningly ordinary explanation for the space-blown panic Jango had felt on first seeing them, on first hearing their relief at finding him.

  “And the Jedi answer?” he prompts quietly, fingers twitching at his lack of a weapon.

  They glance at him briefly, at his hands, before facing back forward. “I only knew to check the manifest because I had a Force vision, and I couldn’t knowingly leave you, or any of the others, to this fate. I knew what you looked like not from my lessons, but from what the Force showed me.”

  “What the Force showed you.”

  “Like I said, the first answer is easier.”

  “I’m too high for magic osik.”

  They wince again. “Yes, I suspected. My master has a spice specialist waiting for when we land, if any of you choose to detox immediately. She’s Old Clan, though — um, Vau Clan, I think.” The Vau Clan did not follow Jaster, but they certainly didn’t follow Vizsla either, and were unlikely to have sided with the duchy. Now, why Kenobi found that important...? “We couldn’t find any medics who used to follow Jaster Mereel,” they explain, as if reading his mind. “At least, not on such short notice. Obviously we wouldn’t trust anyone from Death Watch, or the New Mandalorians, or the mercenaries controlling Concordia, not with the Mand’alor.”

  Jango laughs before he can stop himself, but it’s a bitter thing. “I’m not the Mand’alor. I have no people to lead.”

  Kenobi’s frown only deepens as they steer the shuttle into Concordia’s atmosphere. “Perhaps we should discuss this when you’re not spiced burnt.”

  He can’t but agree. “None of this explains how your master knew to arrange all of this, if you hadn’t rendezvoused with him.”

  “Ah, well, I sent him a coded communication before um... finding this shuttle, and he only got back to me while I was searching the cells for you.”

  “You stole this?”

  “Listen, I was on a time crunch! I was going to give it back!”

  Despite his better judgment, Jango lets himself go boneless and laughs, the reality of the situation maybe finally hitting him. The disgruntled pout Kenobi sports as they contact the nearest spaceport only makes him laugh harder.

-

  Master Windu is waiting for them when Obi-Wan lowers the shuttle gangway, along with a flock of medical personnel and an Arconan with a datapad that reeks of Republic Judiciary.

  Everything Obi-Wan had told Jango had been the truth, except that his master had been able to comm him after he had nicked the shuttle and left atmosphere; he’d had no doubt that Windu would come through, of course, even on Obi-Wan’s rather strange and specific request for Dr. Vau, but, well, Obi-Wan still disembarks with the freed slaves expecting a swift dismissal from the Order.

  It’s worth it, he tells himself, watching Vau make a beeline to Jango Fett and knowing he’ll be in good hands. It’s worth it, Obi-Wan repeats to himself on loop as he slides his soft hat from his head and fixes his Korun padawan chain back behind his ear. This is far from the first time Obi-Wan has gone off script, has let his emotions get the better of him and acted against the wishes of a master, but it’s worth it, he tries to convince himself as he meets Master Windu in the middle of the flurry of activity of the hangar.

  He twists his hat in his hands and immediately bends forward into a bow. “I’m sorry, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says quietly, and means it: how many padawans could say they had disappointed two masters thoroughly enough to be kicked out of the Jedi thrice?

  None, he knows.

  “I acted without thinking, I—”

  “It seemed to me that you acted with quite a bit of thought, padawan,” Master Windu says smoothly, a large hand settling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Your communication was most thorough.”

  Obi-Wan wets his dry lips and keeps his gaze firmly on his boots. “I know I’m not supposed to lose myself in my feelings, to act as if they are fact, but there wasn’t time, and I—”

  “Obi-Wan.” 

  Snapping his mouth closed, he braces himself for the disappointment, the dismissal, but instead, Windu just sighs, and Obi-Wan only gets concern and apology from their training bond.

  “Obi-Wan, can you look at me?” 

  He tries, he really does, but something seems to lock Obi-Wan in place, terrified of seeing that disappointment on the face of a master he’s only had for two years, after Master Jinn had dropped him.

  Despite his fear, Windu isn’t angry when he doesn’t raise his head. “Padawan, the Force is not trying to catch you in a lie. For all that it tests us and pushes us, it would not show you things —past, present, future, or, yes, just feelings— if it did not deem them important. It is how you act that decides the future, not just what you see in visions.”

  “Mas... Master Jinn always said to focus on the now,” Obi-Wan mumbles, remembering the sorts of mantras he would meditate on while Jinn’s apprentice. 

  Windu hmms. “And, in some facsimile, he was correct. No, let me explain myself,” he says, holding up a hand to halt Obi-Wan’s confused protest. “There is danger in getting lost in visions, Obi-Wan, of focusing so much on the future that one forgets to live in the present; this is what Qui-Gon refers to. As I’m sure you realised, Qui-Gon is exceedingly strong in the Living Force, yes?” Obi-Wan nods hesitantly, and Windu smiles at him. “The philosophies he subscribes to, on top of not being particularly prescient himself, puts awareness of the world around you above all else; you can see why it would be difficult for him to understand how those like you, like myself, could give that awareness up for even a moment.” 

  “But isn’t letting go...”

  His smile turns rueful. “Ah, and now you see the Council’s frustration with him, for all that he is a magnificent Jedi.”

  Shuffling awkwardly, Obi-Wan resists the urge to tug on his padawan chain like he would his braid, and settles for wrapping it loosely around his finger. “You are not upset?”

  “Not with you,” he is quick to confirm. “You saved fifteen people’s lives today, Obi-Wan,” he gestures around them, “and allowed the arrest of several notorious spice runners. Yes, perhaps you acted rashly, but as you said: there was hardly time to hesitate. What matters is that you learn to discern when to act, and when to slow down.”

  “... I shouldn’t ignore them?”

  Windu blinks down at him, surprise quickly smoothing into something too tense to be entirely serene. “Ignore your visions? No more than I should attempt to ignore shatterpoints: the Force would not make us strong in abilities we couldn’t learn to control. I find I must apologise, padawan, I did not realise Qui-Gon... worked with you so little on your prescience; such an oversight is not one you should have had to worry about.”

  Obi-Wan swallows, floundering for words, and absolutely does not know what to do with Windu’s easy acceptance and understanding despite Obi-Wan having spent the last few years hiding his visions and lying about his dreams. 

  “But now is not the time to delve into this, nor worry about how we will move forward.” Unfolding a brown cloth from over his arm, Windu holds out what Obi-Wan realises is his robe, that he had thought lost when he was separated from his master. Windu waits for him to put it on to gently start herding him towards the ship they had first come to Mandalore on, and quietly starts catching Obi-Wan up on all that he had missed.

  He doesn’t know what to make of feeling Jango Fett’s eyes on him from across the hangar; nor the intensity with which they follow him until the ship’s hatch closes behind him.

(this took four iterations to write and i’m still not quite satisfied, but i’m very attached to obi-wan having a chain/beads instead of a braid after Melida/Daan; the lil wish-you-would-write snippet happens a few months before this!

thank you for the prompt and y’all’s patience! obi-wan has brown eyes now because you can’t stop me)

*hallikset a seven-stringed instrument that i think is just legends now. but cal plays one!

[bestcurse]

if there’s one thing miller hated, it was his fucking birthday. and a surprise party, not only for himself, but for devon too, was enough to make him swear off them for the rest of his life. the gesture would’ve been sweet, had he not already mentioned that his ideal day consisted of being in bed by eight pm, curled up with a book, or a movie, falling asleep at a decent hour for once. there was still room for that on the actual day, sure, but it had been dampened significantly by tonight. because right now, his cheeks ached from the smile plastered across his face, entirely foreign sitting there, as if he’s never worn a smile like that in his life. it took a certain form of sheer willpower to pull off, to pretend as if he was appreciative for all those that had come, a form he wasn’t aware even resided in his frame. he forced himself into playing the part of loving, happy boyfriend for erica’s sake, with her parents in town and all, expecting him to play into that role. tried his best through his misery, through his surprise to see his own mom here, accompanied by her new boyfriend he’d never met, of course. somehow found that more stressful than anything, even when he was halfway across the room. had been so caught up in it, in fact, that he only remembers there’s good outside of his distress when he catches devon escaping through the back door, presumably for the same reasons he goes to follow, although stopped multiple times in the process. “ this party fucking blows, ” he calls out once he finally makes it, deciding that was how he wanted to make his presence known. turns then, ensuring that the door is securely closed behind him, drowning out the sound of everyone inside, before he’s crossing the space to reach her. “ i saw you sneak out here like ten minutes ago─ not fair, by the way, leaving me in there to suffer alone, ” he teases, nudging her shoulder slightly, standing beside her now, fingers digging into the depths of his pocket for a familiar packet. as far as erica knew, he’d quit about two weeks ago, but now felt like a good time to dig up old habits that never really died in the first place. “ did you know that there’s cake ? like, i think they want to sing us happy birthday and expect us to blow out the candles and shit, ” he mumbles, cigarette clung between his teeth as he searches for his lighter, lighting it once he does. there was nothing worse, in his opinion. in fact, he would be completely content if the ground opened up and swallowed him whole, just so he could avoid it. “ somebody told me it’s chocolate, too. i hate chocolate cake. ” he adds through an exhale of smoke, before plucking it and marking it between his fingertips. now that he says it aloud, lopsided grin upon his features, hearing just how ridiculous he sounds, he gets hit with a harder truth ─ even his favourite cake wouldn’t be able to save tonight. but it’s when he looks at her, really looks at her, that his entire form is softening, leaning against the rail to face her. he remembers the look on her face vividly, that same look of pure horror, knowing it mirrored his almost exactly, from the second they opened the door. reaches for her hand then, giving it a small squeeze, before pulling back just as quickly. “ how are you holding up ? ” / @hurtingkind​

[ripperdaddy]

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

[phoebehalliwell]

on the subject of crackships.

in a prue lives, phoebeleo piperkyle pruecole paigeandy au (in which paige meets them in s1) how do u see it playing out and ALSO. do u see them all having kids still. this is so random i am so sorry (also i don't mean they have to be set from the get go and never get w anyone else but these would hypothetically be endgame)

i mean with phoebeleo like hard yes like in s2 when they're watching the baby at the end everyone's like phoebe ik you're gonna be a great mom you're gonna have like a million and one kids like mark my words and phoebe's real smitten about it like wow u really think you : ) i'd like to. guess i should probably find a guy first tho huh. but if that guy's already there bc it's leo and he's been here since season one i think they are easily first to have kids and first to get a full power of three the other three is definitely like another can of worms bc like.

okay so for paigeandy obvi we're starting andy's an old childhood friend of the halliwell's for the sake of cleanliness did not date any of them (if we're going messy tho dated prue hooked up once or twice with phoebe (not while dating prue, but neither of them ever mentioned it around prue bc well. yikes.) And piper had a major crush on andy for like. a decade. from ages 13 to 23) and he's a cop and does. stuff idk helps people and this lands him frequently in bed with social services which is. consistently. a pain in the ass. and he doesn't try to hold it against them bc they're clearly understaffed underpaid there's a lot to do but um jesus. and everyone in the precinct Hates having to go over there to do stuff bc you're just standing in the lobby drinking bad coffee for fifty minutes before you can even get a word in with the work and unlucky andy he drew the short straw ends up at social services and who should he meet there if not this gorgeous but really scatterbrained berkeley grad with a mouth like a sailor and a heart of gold and now um there's no need to draw straws at the station because andy straight up volunteers to go to social services just to see paige which she notices of course because like. were you jinxed or something? cursed? i've never known someone to draw the short straw so many times. and andy's like no i just um. like being hands on with my work i don't like leaving up to some dumb rookie with bad luck and paige is like oh don't worry i promise it is still being left to some dumb rookie with bad luck i mean i am right here blah blah blah banter conversation hint at a tragic backstory give it half a season and then it's official bf/gf shit and as far as charmed goes it's a prophecy about four sisters and the halliwells are like phew. dodged a bullet there lmao. until they do something only charmed ones could do and they're like Wait. Fuck. Is There A Fourth Sister Out There? so they find paige within the first hmm ten episodes or so.

so since we have both s1 phoebeleo and paigeandy i'd say they'd be on the fastest track but i feel like paige does have a lot more issues when it comes to getting married and having kids than phoebe does regardless i think by s4 they're married on track to have kids with pruecole we're doing the s3 introduction and the enemies to lovers arc we seal that with either a wedding at the very end of s4 or at the very beginning of s5 however kids is like. like they both want kids but prue has daddy issues and cole has mommy issues not to mention the charmed one/demon hybrid so they need to do some soul searching on that one. prue's probably pregnant by the end of s5 and has her baby halfway thru s6. paige may or may not have had kids at this point if they did they were kind of a whoopsies baby but she and andy r embracing it with open arms.

piperkyle imo is peak in a divorce/widower era it's been pitched like piperkyle au where he's not fucking insane piperkyle au where she's not brokenhearted piperkyle au where they're both normal happy people who then meet but like. nah. the appeal of them to me really is being the broken fucked up human being and feeling like you're kinda just gonna stay broken and fucked up bc you had your shot and you blew it so now you're here get used to it and then to have someone to meet someone who sees you so genuinely as you are that at first it's disgusting leave me alone i hate you but out of that just honest sight grows familiarity and comfort and before you even realized it happened love and jfc i'm in love with them???? but you realize that you're always happier when they're around you want to stay by their side and you don't even have to wonder if they feel the same because you just know they do because you Know each other and you don't have to wait for them to turn and run once they see who you really are because they know who you are they've known from the start saw the ugly the broken and vile and looked past that and saw the beauty and genuine love underneath like 🗣‼🗣‼🗣‼🗣‼. piperkyle consistently makes me insane. So. in order to hit this. we're bringing in dan. that's right, from season two to six (maybe just five but i'd like to have the pruecole arc wrapped up in a nice bow by the time we open up the next enemies to lovers) piper and dan give a relationship the old college try going from the honeymoon phase to the cringe failmarriage stage until it's eventually just time to call it quits like you literally can't move forward. so because of the delayed start piperkyle would def be the last to have kids but because this is a long slowburn full of character development and just like. vulnerable bonding moments i think that once they go official as a couple wedding and kids are not far off on the horizon i think if we close out a season (a hypothetical 9 or 10) with them getting together for the first time then we gotta burn some miles on the freak out denial stage because i always think that's funny that'll last half a season? maybe a third. and then by the end of the season we're looking at a wedding. by the end of the following season they def have a kid

superlatives!

most fashionable couple: pruecole

most likely to name their kids after dead relatives: piperkyle

most likely to break p tradition: paigeandy

most chill about dating a charmed one: phoebeleo (andy kyle & cole would all be way too willing to throw themselves into danger, leo trusts phoebe's foresight and knows when he needs to sit on the sidelines. it is a lesson all the other men still struggle with)

bonus round!

best bromance: 1st place: leoandy 2nd place: leocole 3rd place: colekyle

[fruitcoops]

okay so: coops and jily do the couple fear pong challenge (couple vs couple fear pong by cut for reference)?? pleaseee - m

Anon, you definitely read my mind with this. I’ve had this idea in the works for almost a month and I’m so glad you suggested it!! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for alcohol (beer)

“Are you ready to lose?” James asked as he set up a few lines of red Solo cups.

“Try me,” Remus shot back with a grin. Their respective partners shared an exasperated look.

“Hello, hockey fans, and welcome to Fear Pong! I’m your host, Marlene McKinnon.” Marlene set an armful of beer bottles on the ping pong table and began filling each team’s cups halfway.

“I’m Lily Potter, and this is my husband James.” Lily waved to the camera and stole one of Marlene’s bottles to take a sip. “Ugh. It’s like wheat-flavored moonshine.”

“I think she takes it as a challenge to find the worst alcohol,” Remus mused. “I’m Remus Lupin, the best winger on the Lions.”

“Shut it, Loops.”

“Bite me, Pots.”

“And I’m Sirius Black, the team captain,” Sirius said. “As you can see, this is going to get out of hand very fast.”

Marlene leaned on the table, looking between them with a grave expression. “The rules are simple. If you throw the ball and it lands in a cup, you have to do the dare on the coaster or drink the beer. The team who drinks all their cups first, loses. We’ll do the deadliest of games to decide who goes first: rock, paper, scissors. Choose your champions.”

Sirius and James moved to the front of the table. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Shit,” Sirius muttered as James’ paper defeated his rock.

James grinned as he headed back to his place. “I can already taste victory.” Lily took careful aim, and the ball landed perfectly in the center of their cups. “That’s my wife, everybody!”

Remus rolled his eyes and picked up the coaster. “Leave five hickeys on your teammate. Your opponent chooses where. Aw, man, everyone’s going to see them at practice.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to chicken out and drink?”

His jaw ticked. “Where.”

“One on his cheek, the rest on his neck.”

Sirius leaned down with a heavy sigh and Remus worked a hickey onto his cheek, pulling away with a soft pop and appraising it. “Not bad. Four more?”

“Four more.”

It took less than a minute for the rest of the marks to appear in a light lilac color. Remus licked his lips and picked up the ball. “Those are such weak hickeys!” James protested. “Come on, Loops, you’re better than that.”

“And yet they’re already done.” He picked up the ball and readied it. “Tragic.”

A few droplets of beer splashed out of the cup and Lily lit up when she read the dare. “Switch outfits with your partner. Oh, baby, you’re going to look gorgeous!”

“Do we get a screen or something?” James asked as Lily began unzipping the back of her dress. Two camera crew members came over with a large blanket and they stepped behind it; after a couple minutes of rustling, Lily emerged in her husband’s too-big sweatshirt with the cuffs of his jeans rolled up.

“Do you need a hand with the zipper?” she asked with a light laugh.

“Got it. Oh, wow, I look hot.” James came into view and Sirius held a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. The floral dress fell to his mid-thigh and the low neckline exposed quite a bit of his chest. He swayed back and forth, making the skirt twirl slightly. “Very breathy.”

“Alright, handsome, your turn.” Lily handed him the ball and he shot it—it bounced off the rim and Remus whooped.

“I can already taste victory,” he mimicked in a terrible Boston accent; James threw the backup ball at him and it smacked him in the forehead. “Ow!”

Unfortunately, Sirius’ throw also went wide, ending up down Lily’s baggy shirt. “Hang on, it’s in my cleavage. Nice aim, Cap.” She dug around for a moment as Sirius flushed, then emerged with the ball, giving it an elegant toss.

“Damn it,” Sirius muttered as he took the coaster. ��Make out with your teammate for a minute, but one of you can’t move their lips or tongue. Again with the kissing? Really? Can’t we just switch clothes and call it a day?”

“Come on down to the front, pardner.” Marlene said with a false Southern twang, patting the backs of the two folding chairs she had set up. “Get your smooch on.”

“I can’t move my face, right?” Remus asked as he sat down across from Sirius. Marlene shook her head.

“Get it, Cap!” Lily cheered as he reached out to cup Remus’ jaw in his hands.

Sirius had to turn away and laugh for a second, rolling his shoulders out. “Okay, ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Why do you look like you’re gearing up for a game?” Sirius flicked him on the thigh and Remus pressed his lips together, still smiling slightly.

He started soft, placing slow kisses all over Remus’ mouth. “It says ‘make out’, Cap, come on!” James complained. “If that’s your idea of making out, you need to apologize to your fiancé.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and Sirius huffed a sigh, leaning back in for a proper kiss with a significant increase in tongue. Lily whooped and Remus’ shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter—Sirius moved his hands to down to steady him as the timer continued counting.

“Ten seconds!” Marlene warned. The final buzzer went off and Sirius pulled away, wiping at his lips.

“That felt so weird,” Remus said as he dried his mouth off with his sleeve and tugged Sirius in by his wrist. “C’mere.”

Sirius bent down for a quick kiss before they walked back to their side. “Alright, our turn.”

“I get to throw it this time.”

“What? Why?”

Remus took the ball out of his hand and kissed his cheek. “I say this with all the love in the world, but you suck at beer pong. So does Pots, if that makes you feel better.” His shot spun around the rim of a cup before falling in with a clatter.

“Take an article of clothing off for every sexual partner you’ve had,” James read. “Aw, come on, I’m only wearing a dress and none of you want to see me naked.”

“You’re not wearing underwear?” Sirius looked mildly alarmed.

“I’ve had more than two partners, dude.”

Lily shrugged. “I’m not about to protest seeing you naked.”

“I would!” Remus and Sirius chorused with equal measures of horror. James rolled his eyes and downed the cup.

“James, you have to throw it,” Marlene interrupted as he handed the ball to Lily. “You need to switch each time.”

“Shit,” Lily muttered, giving it back. “Don’t fuck this up for us, honeybun.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He took careful aim, tossed it, and landed a perfect shot in one of the cups without a coaster. Sirius and Remus groaned as Lily cheered. “Hell yeah!”

Remus drank the beer as Sirius lined up the ball; it sailed through the air and bounced off two cups before sinking into the third. They high-fived with both hands while Lily took the dare out. “Call your parents and tell them you’re pregnant—oh, we can’t do this.”

“Why?” Remus snorted. “You’ve already done it once.”

“I would break my mother’s heart if she found out it was a prank.” James shook his head and passed Lily the cup. “I would get the lecture of a lifetime.”

“Can you imagine pranking poor Effie with fake grandbabies?” Lily asked as she drank.

“The guilt would eat me alive,” Sirius agreed. Lily lined up for another shot. “Miss, miss, miss, miss—fuck.”

“Call a friend and ask for a threesome.” Remus’ eyebrows shot up and he looked at Sirius. “As much as I want to win this game, there’s no way we’re doing that.”

“Hell no, I’m the captain. That’s an abuse of power or something.” Sirius drained the cup and set it aside, moving so Remus could get a better angle for his throw. It landed in one of the cups they had already hit and Lily cursed as she drank again.

“Marley, we need to have a talk about your alcohol.”

“I want you guys to know that I specifically asked for the shittiest beer they had that would get people drunk real quick,” Marlene said off screen. “It comes from a place of love.”

They traded three more shots back and forth, each one bouncing off the table or threatening to take someone’s eye out before James got a lucky shot. “I thought you said he was bad at this!” Sirius protested as he took the dare out.

“I thought he was!” Remus defended. “What do we have to do?”

“Let them paint us with glue and pour glitter on us.”

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Shirts off, unless you want to ruin them,” Marlene said as she carted two containers of glue and some small buckets of glitter out. Remus and Sirius obliged, then stood on the clear tarp she had laid out. “Pots, Lils, go nuts.”

“This is the best day of my life,” James said gleefully as he took a paintbrush and began drawing a wobbly smiley face on Sirius’ torso.

“It’s so drippy.” Sirius let out a long exhale and bounced on his toes as James added polka dots and squiggles all over the place.

“What are you writing?” Remus asked as Lily began touching up her work. “Are those words?”

“Maybe. Glitter time!” Without further ado, she dug her hand into the bucket and threw a handful at Remus’ chest. It exploded in a small poof and only some of it stuck; he wrinkled his nose.

“It’s in my mouth.”

“Gay rights—oh shit that’s cold!” Sirius yelped, batting James away. “Just do the glitter already!”

“Don’t rush an artist!” Nevertheless, James went over and shook about half the bucket onto Sirius.

He spat out a mouthful of sparkles and glared. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that was necessary.”

“Whatever you want, David Bowie.”

“He looks more like Freddie Mercury to me,” Lily mused as she continued sprinkling glitter over Remus, revealing her name written in careful cursive. “This is going to be such a pain to wash off, you two.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Remus shook his hair out and a small waterfall of glitter fell out onto the tarp.

“Back to your stations, everyone!” Marlene called.

The game only got rowdier after that as each team did everything in their power to prevent dares, ranging from shaking the table to sneezing loudly each time someone squared up for a shot. Remus finally sank one and nearly smacked Sirius in the face with his celebratory fist pump as Lily groaned.

“Let the opponent pour ice water down your pants.” James frowned and looked to the camera crew. “I’m not wearing any pants.”

“You’re wearing underwear,” Marlene pointed out. His eyes went wide as she came out with two bowls of ice water and handed them to Sirius and Remus, whose smiles were downright maniacal.

“I really hope you’re done having kids,” Sirius said as James turned around. “On three. One, two—”

Both of them shouted in shock; Remus burst out laughing as Sirius shook the final few ice cubes into James’ underwear. “That was not three!” Lily tugged at her pantlegs and ice cascaded out, darkening the fabric along the way. “Aw, it looks like I peed myself.”

James braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, taking deep, slow breaths. “I can’t feel my balls,” he managed. “Holy fuck, that’s so weird.”

“It’s like a punch bowl down there.” Lily grimaced and picked up the ping pong ball. “I hope you two are ready for payback.”

Her throw was immaculate, despite both Sirius and Remus blowing on it as it arced over the table. “This is terribly convenient,” Remus said. “Wear a childbirth simulator for fifteen seconds each.”

“Fifteen seconds?” Lily swung around to the camera in disbelief. “I was in labor for four hours!”

“You’re also way stronger than we are,” Remus laughed as Sirius helped Marlene drag a beanbag out onto the glittery tarp.

“Who’s up first?” she asked.

“Sirius,” Lily said without hesitating. “He kicked off my labor, he gets to know what it felt like.”

“Do I get any choice in this?” Sirius asked, though he was already laying down and brushing glitter off his torso to make room for the sensors. Lily took the remote and pressed a few buttons. “Should I apologize now or—shit! Shit, shit, mon dieu, c’est horrible, s’il vous plait, owwwww.”

His hand collided with Remus’ and he grabbed it, squeezing it tight as James watched, wide-eyed, from the sidelines. “Baby, you’re going to break my hand,” Remus wheezed.

Marlene’s timer went off and Sirius scrambled to tear the sticky pads off, practically throwing himself off the beanbag. “That was hell. Lily, don’t ever feel like you need to have children again.”

Remus swallowed thickly as he took Sirius’ place, settling back into the cushions. “Hold my hand?”

“Please don’t break my fingers.”

Remus’ knee jerked up on reflex as soon as Lily turned it on and he yelled, eyes flaring wide with surprise. “Motherfucker! Ohhhh my god this is what death feels like. This is what death feels like, I hate I hate it Sirius Black do not let go of my hand.”

“Four hours,” Lily said mildly as he gritted his teeth and Sirius winced at his grip.

The cheerful jingling of the timer made Remus nearly sob with relief; he peeled the sensors off his skin and immediately went over to hug Lily. “You are the most incredible person I know. Please never make us do that again.”

“You chose to do it, Glitter Boy,” she laughed, giving him a playful shove after returning the hug. “Fire away, Cap.”

James had to drink, then Remus, then Lily, and after her shot went wide, Sirius landed a miracle throw. “Let the opposing team shave your head,” James read. He looked up at them and narrowed his eyes. “Touch my hair and I’ll end you.”

“We only have two left,” Lily warned as he took the cup and drank it. “And only one has a dare.”

“I’m not going to sacrifice my hair to win bragging rights.”

His next shot was a laser throw that nearly knocked over the cup it landed in. Sirius’ shoulders slumped when he took the coaster. “Let the opponent smash a pie in your face.”

“Could be worse.” Remus shrugged. “I’m glad I didn’t wear my nice pants today.”

“These chairs are going to live in my nightmares,” he said as they returned to the tarp. Lily and James carefully took the whipped-cream pies from the camera crew.

“Woah, what’s that?!” Lily shouted all of a sudden. Remus startled, turning to look at her, only to get a full pie slammed directly into his face. James didn’t hesitate—he really put his hips into it, and some whipped cream splattered back onto the table.

“Moisturizing is very important,” he said, rubbing the pie in slow circles around Sirius’ face until almost all of it was coating his skin. “Sugar scrubs are all the rage.”

“Do I look exfoliated, sweetheart?” Sirius asked, turning in Remus’ general direction.

“If I could see anything right now, I would say no.” Remus wiped his eyes off and flicked the cream at Lily, who quickly stepped backwards. Sirius leaned over and licked Remus’ cheek, laughing, until Remus grabbed Lily’s mostly-empty pie tin and shoved it in his face.

“I deserved that,” he said, voice muffled by aluminum and filling.

The video cut for a moment, and when it returned, the four of them were pie-free and back at the table. The game had clearly continued off-camera, because each team only had one cup left. Their cheeks were significantly more flushed than before.

“Just out of curiosity,” Marlene cut in as Sirius picked up the ball. “On a scale of 1-10, how drunk do you think you are right now?”

Lily made a face. “Maybe, like, a four?”

“Three,” James said.

“Yeah, three.” Sirius hiccupped at the end of his sentence, clearly startling himself. “…three and a half.”

“I’ll have to agree with the collective,” Remus said. “Not anywhere close to drunk drunk, because it’s shitty beer, but pleasantly buzzed. Take the average of everyone else and that’s…about three and a third? The math is skewed if Sirius goes with three and a half instead. I dunno.”

There was a beat of quiet before James shook his head. “Only you would do tipsy math to calculate how drunk you are instead of guesstimating like the rest of us. Fuckin’ nerd.”

“Fuck off, you can’t even do addition.”

Sirius threw the ping pong ball before the argument could get any more heated and it bounced off the table, hitting James right on the cheek. “Oops.”

“Hey!” It was James’ turn to throw next, and he deliberately aimed for Sirius’ face—Sirius ducked and it flew past him, hitting something off screen with a clatter. “Sorry!”

“Ha! That’s what you get.”

Remus rolled his eyes and took the ball; it went into James and Lily’s final cup despite their defense tactics. “Ah, shit,” Lily muttered as she picked up the coaster. “Pour beer into your partner’s mouth using only your feet. J, do you trust me with this?”

“I love you, but no.”

“That’s fair. To the tarp!”

Remus and Sirius watched with far too much glee as Lily laid down and Marlene put a fresh beer cup between the soles of James’ feet. “Ready?” he asked her. She nodded and opened her mouth as he began slowly tilting it.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Remus and Sirius chanted from the sidelines. About halfway through, the cheap plastic cup folded and rolled out of James’ grip, bouncing off Lily’s nose and falling to the floor.

She sat up quickly, checking her hair as the last of the liquid formed a puddle on the tarp. “Is it in my hair?”

All three men squinted at her. “Nope,” James said after a moment. “All good. Did we complete the dare?”

Marlene made an ‘ehh’ noise as she tossed them a towel to mop up the spill. “You didn’t finish the cup…”

“The coaster said nothing about finishing!” Sirius protested. “They did what they were asked.”

“Babe, we want them to lose,” Remus muttered.

Sirius winced. “Right. My bad.”

Both Remus and Lily heaved a sigh as they went back to their positions. It was Lily’s throw next—neither of them tried to prevent the inevitable and the resignation on their faces when the ball landed with a gentle plop aged them by ten years. Remus slid the coaster out. “Huh. Not bad. Let the opponent give you both three-minute makeovers.”

“Dibs on Remus,” Lily said immediately. He looked rather flattered by that and Sirius groaned.

“Pots, I don’t trust you with makeup.”

“Smart boy. Get over here and let me make you handsome.” James grinned and took the container of makeup supplies from Marlene, patting the two chairs at the front. “Lils, I don’t know what half this stuff is.”

“That just makes it more fun!” she said cheerfully as Remus sat down and she rummaged through the various bottles and brushes. “If we only have three minutes, I think we should do something simple and pretty. The glitter is really going to make it better.”

“Three minutes is so much time!” James laughed. Both Marlene and Lily gave him incredulous looks. “No?”

“Honey, it takes me twenty minutes to do a full face of makeup in the morning.”

“Jesus.”

“Time starts…now!” Marlene tapped her phone and Lily uncapped a dark pencil; Remus leaned away from her as she neared his face with it.

“What is that?”

“Eyeliner.”

“Please don’t blind me.”

Lily scoffed. “Have a little faith, Loops.”

James on the other hand, grabbed some mascara and began shakily applying it to Sirius’ lashes. “This is surprisingly difficult. How do I know if it’s working?”

“Usually you can see the color transfer over.”

“My eyelashes are already black,” Sirius said, wincing as James jabbed the side of his nose. “Watch it.”

“They’re also really long,” Lily said as she continued drawing a steady line along Remus’ lids. “Mascara might not do very much for the lucky bastard.”

“It’s not my fault I have long eyelashes!” Sirius protested as James moved on to the second eye.

“Do you have any idea how many women would kill do have those?”

“Ten seconds!” Marlene called. Lily swore under her breath and began putting the finishing touches on the second eye. “And…done!”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I feel hot as hell,” Remus laughed, batting his eyes at the camera. Marlene handed him a mirror and his eyebrows rose. “Thank you, Lily, I look so fancy.”

“My eyes are sticking together.” Sirius grimaced and blinked a few times so the clumpy mascara would settle. He looked over at Remus and went still.

“What?”

“You—hmm.” He paused for a second. “You look really nice. Very punk rock.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. Some of your glitter stuck to the mascara, so you’re very sparkly right now.”

“Re, you have light eyes, which helped a bit,” Lily explained as she tossed the eyeliner and mascara into the makeup container. “Contrasting colors always pop better, and everyone looks sexy in eyeliner.”

“I wore it for Halloween last year and it was awesome,” James said, heading back to the table.

“Final throws!” Marlene called. All four of them looked over in surprise. “Did you all forget the point of the game? Loser is whoever drinks their cup first.”

Remus turned Sirius by his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Please, please don’t miss this throw.”

“As if I’m letting James fucking Potter beat us in beer pong,” Sirius scoffed, kissing his forehead before lining up for the shot; it bounced off the rim and dropped right in. The room exploded into noise as Marlene blew the victory airhorn and Remus and Sirius began jumping up and down, yelling incoherently. James and Lily both groaned as he drank their last cup.

“Do we get a prize?” Remus asked.

“Bragging rights,” Marlene said as she took their empty cups. “I might have some Lions merch—”

Four hasty ‘no thank you’s answered and she laughed, shaking her head.

“Alright, sign us off!”

“Thanks for watching, Lions! I’m Sirius Black—”

“I’m Remus Lupin.”

“I’m Lily Potter.”

“And I’m James Potter.”

Marlene popped into view one more time. “Quick disclaimer: we do have a designated driver waiting today. Remember to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content!”

[morganaspendragonss]

request for you -> no. 65 💗💜💙

holly's august extravaganza day 20: can't smile without you

thank you! this is a follow-up to my previous fic a hole where your memory goes

65) “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can barely fucking breathe because they’re gone and it’s my fault. And god knows what they’re doing to them right now and I’m just sitting here doing nothing!” (from this list)

ao3 | 1.6k | angst with a happy ending, supportive firefam, kidnapping, mentioned amputation

before.

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

Carlos doesn’t like the thought of TK going out alone anymore, but he tries to push down his protective instincts to normal levels, for TK’s sake. TK thinks he’s being ridiculous—but then, TK only knows what the news has said about the case. Carlos has refused to talk about it at home, mostly because he’s not supposed to, but also because he doesn’t want to scare his husband.

He won’t admit it, but Carlos is scared enough for the both of them.

But as the case wears on and no new leads appear, things change. The fear… It doesn’t get lesser, or disappear, but it becomes something he’s used to; something, really, he’s been used to ever since they first began dating all those years ago. And the thing about being a detective—the person who investigates and solves the crimes—is that it’s easy to believe that these are things that happen to other people.

Carlos knows he’s not invincible. But there’s something about his job that has him marking out his home as a safe bubble, where the horrors he sees on the daily can’t enter.

Later, when he thinks back on it all, he won’t remember the moment he let himself get so lax. What he will remember, all too clearly, is the moment he lost everything.

“Babe, I’m going out!” TK shouts, his voice reaching Carlos where he’s washing up in the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon; don’t wait up.”

Carlos smiles, but doesn’t turn around, knowing TK will probably be halfway out the door by now anyway. “Have a good run,” he says instead. Seconds later, he hears the door shut and lock, and he carries on with his night. His shift had been long, so he goes to bed pretty quickly, certain in the knowledge that, when he wakes up, TK will be by his side again, as always.

He wakes up at two am to a cold bed, and Carlos’s world crumbles.

during.

Seventy-three days after TK’s disappearance, Carlos is sitting in the firehouse kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and wondering what, exactly, he’s doing here. He should be at work, going over the case, doing everything he can to find TK; not here, the one place he hasn’t set foot in since that awful day.

“Carlos,” Paul said, surprise colouring his voice. He narrowed his eyes, clearly noting the grief hanging heavy around Carlos, and a brief fear flickered across his expression. “Is everything okay?”

Carlos swallowed, unable to meet Paul’s eyes. “I, uh. Is Owen around?”

“Yeah, he’s in his office. You can head on up if you want.”

He nodded and took a step forward, before being suddenly hit by a realisation. “Actually, Paul?” he asked. “Could you gather everyone? You all deserve to hear this from me, but I don’t think I have the strength to say it twice.”

Paul’s eyes widened, the fear returning in full force. Carlos knew he must have joined the dots by now—TK not showing up for work, Carlos appearing, looking, probably, wrecked… There was only one conclusion to be drawn.

Even so, Carlos didn’t think any of them would have imagined something this bad, and the looks on their faces when they found out broke him all over again.

He sighs and stares down into his coffee, swirling the cooling dregs around the mug. He doesn’t want to be here; even now, seventy-three days afterwards, part of him still thinks he’s going to look up and see him walking around the corner. The feeling is even worse at home, but Carlos only really goes there to sleep and, occasionally, eat. TK’s nightstand is still occupied by the book he was reading, his shoes lie abandoned by the front door, his shampoo going untouched next to Carlos’s own.

The memories there threaten to suffocate him, so he chooses to let them gather dust.

The firehouse is quiet, and there’s an itch in Carlos’s bones telling him to get up and get going. He grits his teeth and tries to force himself to stay put, for his friends’ sake if nothing else, but it’s an impossible task, and he ends up shoving himself out of the chair. For once, no-one is around to spot him, so he turns, fully intent on sneaking out, when his eyes catch on the 126’s memorial wall.

It’s the same as it has been for years, Tim’s photo right alongside those of the old 126. A thought enters Carlos’s mind, unbidden, and it sticks in his head, keeping his gaze locked on the wall.

How long until TK ends up there too?

Carlos’s breath trembles, his hands bunching into fists at his side. The rest of the firehouse fades into background noise until all Carlos can see is the wall of photos and the memory of TK’s voice on the night he left.

Judd appears from seemingly nowhere, Carlos jumping when his hands land on his shoulders. “Sit.”

“No,” Carlos protests, shoving at Judd. “No, let me go.”

But Judd just folds his arms and refuses to budge, looking down at Carlos with a mixture of sympathy and determination in his eyes. “Look, Carlos, I have no idea what you’re going through,” he says, “but you’re running yourself into the ground and you’re going to burn out. TK—”

“Don’t.” Carlos grits his teeth, glaring at Judd. “Don’t say it. You all—You all keep saying the same shit, but I’m pretty sure the only thing TK wants right now is to be away from wherever they’re keeping him. And it’s my job to do that for him! Judd, it is literally my job to find these people and I just keep failing and I should be out there; I should be looking for him, so just—just let me go!”

“Carlos, you need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” There’s a sob building in Carlos’s chest, the ever-present ache growing until it eclipses anything else he has inside him. “I can’t calm down, and you know what else? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can barely fucking breathe because he’s gone and it’s my fault. And god knows what they’re doing to him right now and I’m just sitting here doing nothing! I’m sitting here, drinking coffee, when he’s—he’s—”

The words stick in his throat and Carlos gives in to the tears, letting the emotion overwhelm him. His legs give out and he slumps back down in the chair by the kitchen island, saved from sliding to the floor by Judd, who cradles Carlos’s head against his chest. Judd’s uniform is probably getting soaked, but he makes no complaint, simply holding Carlos as he cries.

“I know,” he shushes, rubbing a large hand in circles on Carlos’s back. “I know.”

He doesn’t, but Carlos takes solace in it anyway.

after.

Carlos chews on his lip, anxiously watching as TK is settled in his wheelchair. It’s been a month since TK came home from the hospital, and the first time he’s going out without Carlos.

“Ready, Strand?” Judd asks. TK nods, and time feels like it slows down as Judd grips onto the chair’s handles, muscles tensing to push.

“Wait!” He seizes a blanket from the couch—TK’s favourite—and rushes over, kneeling down in front of his husband. “You’ll get cold.”

It’s true; after all the weight he lost, TK feels the cold so much more these days. He knows that TK, and probably some of the crew, thinks he’s being over-protective, but Carlos is terrified of him getting sick. Of losing him, for good this time. So he tucks the blanket around TK’s leg, the other one’s absence still glaring after all this time, giving more attention to the task than it warrants.

He’s stopped by a hand slipping into his, and he looks up to meet TK’s eyes, brilliant green shining with understanding.

“Carlos,” he murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. “It’s okay. Y—You don’t—have to—w—w—” TK frowns, his face scrunching up in frustration as his tongue refuses to cooperate, and Carlos reaches out to caress his face.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’ll see you later, okay? Love you.”

Every instinct Carlos possesses protests as he watches TK disappear out the door once more, and he takes an involuntary step forward. But Paul and Grace, both of whom insisted on keeping him company, place a hand on each of his shoulders, gently but firmly guiding him towards the couch.

“I—I don’t…”

“He’ll be fine, Carlos,” Grace says, sitting next to him. “Let us take care of you, now.”

Paul walks over with a bowl of something steaming, practically forcing it into his hands. “I’m gonna tell you right now, I’ll be real offended if you don’t eat that, Reyes. I didn’t spend hours slaving over it for you to turn your nose up because you got used to all that gourmet shit they serve in the hospital.”

Carlos laughs weakly, taking the proffered fork. Between the hospital and TK’s strict diet while he gets used to food again, he hasn’t had a proper meal in a while; he didn’t think he had the appetite for one, but the spicy aroma wafting from the bowl sets his stomach growling.

They eat, and they talk, and it seems like normality might be in reach once more.

An hour later, TK comes home.

And Carlos finally starts to feel safe again.

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

innocence never lasts - crime au

I’m back boys with another part, were getting closer to war time now dudes. This takes place before part 3 just if you wanted to get a better understanding of the timeline. 

part 1 & 2 & 5

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Wilbur came to town on an invitation from the masked man himself

Dream had enticed the brit with promises of riches and power, and he already had connections within the city so really what had he to lose

Wilbur was supplied with a small team, he was in charge of one of the larger drug trades and production companies on the east side of the city. His job was to eliminate any competition and regain complete control of the eastern drug exchange, how he did that was completely up to him. 

However, when dream sent a duo of teenage criminals to his door, Wilbur was less than impressed

“Dream, how do you expect me to run a drug cartel when two thirds of the cartel are fucking children”

“You'll figure it out dude, I believe in you.”

“No this isn't an ‘I believe in you’ situation dream, they aren't even allowed to drink in this country let alone kill a bunch of drug lords that by the way, are probably predators!”

“Admittedly, yes, they are a little young. But Tommy is one of the best kids I know, everything he knows he either learnt from me or the blood god himself.”

“Wait?” Wilbur moves his eye in front of the peep hole in his front door to inspect the blond on the right. “This Kid is technos?” He watches him pull a face at the shorter boy before punching him in the arm.

“Yup.”

“And you're okay with that?”

“It's a long story but yes.”

Wilbur looks back through the peephole at the smaller of the two and distantly hears “What if we just stab him” through the thin wood of his door. The older brit shakes his head and turns back into his living room

“And who's the kid threatening to stab me”

“Friend of Tommy's, I think. And don't worry about the stabbing, it's probably his way of saying he likes you or something.”

“If any of these kids die it's on you green man.”

“I can live with that.”

When Wilbur opens the door again, Tommy has his head in his hands and sighs as Tubbo puts a knife to his throat.

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It's a week in and Wilbur has considered shooting the both of them more than he would like to admit.

He's not really one for killing children, but he's not a fan of being outnumbered by the little fuckers. So to make it even he calls up some of his contacts in the city.

He almost regrets it immediately when Tommy asks who the furry is

Wilbur tries to hide his laugh when the blond boy says this, but in the child's defense, Who the fuck wears a fox mask

Fundy and Eret get along fine after their first meeting and Wilbur is just happy he doesn't have to sit around and listen to Tommy and Tubbo argue over who can fit more breadsticks in their mouth without breaking any on his own anymore.

The drug business continues under Wilbur's power and surprisingly, no one dies. They take down competitors and pump out more and more supplies to companies that are willing to pay higher prices than ever. He hates to say it, but maybe he's glad he took this job from Dream

That is until Tommy almost punches his front door down at 1am covered in smoke and blood, Tubbo barely breathing on the porch next to him.

Wilbur panics and shoves the both of them in the back seats of his car, instructing a shaken Tommy to put pressure on Tubbos wounds as he floors it to the nearest hospital. He can deal with the repercussions of running red lights after he comes up with a plan to get through the hospital without being noticed. Sure maybe Wilbur wasn't on anyone's radar yet, but Tommy definitely was, and who knows how many people Tubbo has actually stabbed.

Dream has to have some sort of protocol for something like this, a secret entrance or a codeword or something. He reaches to grab his phone from his jean pocket and swears as he realizes he left it on charge on his night stand, looks like he's on his own for this one. He can do this, just focus and fucking drive Wilbur

When he gets to the hospital he parks right out front in a place where he definitely isn't supposed to be and helps Tommy and Tubbo out of the car and practically has to carry the brunet through the front doors. As soon as he walks in he knows people know, they've been on the news more than once and it's not difficult to keep up with the city's most wanted list these days, but Tommy's limping now and he knows the adrenaline is wearing off so he drags tubbos bleeding body up to the front desk and swallows his pride.

“Help them, please.”

The woman at the front desk looks Wilbur directly in the eyes, sees the way tears are building there and switches her gaze between the two younger boys.

“Please.”

The woman takes a breath and nods. “We need help here.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later when both boys are patched up and on the mend the doctor lets him in the room. Tubbo is out and hopped up on pain meds, recovering from smoke inhalation and a shrapnel wound on his left side. Doc said it looked worse than it is, he was only out to let his chest ease up a little. Tommy's wounds on the other hand were a little more permanent.

He’s sat on the bed next to Tuboos watching his chest rise and fall. There were bandages wrapping around his left leg, a mix of shrapnel and soft burn marks underneath, and his right arm is in a sling meaning he wouldn't be able walk on his own for a while. Wilbur sits next to him but Tommy doesn't stop watching Tubbos breathing.

“They almost put him on a ventilator.”

Tommy says it so softly, Wilbur almost doesn't recognize it was him at first. He's got a few stitches on his forehead where a purpling bruise blooms underneath, he almost doesn't want to know what happened. Almost.

“What happened Tommy.”

“What, not even gonna compliment my wheels.” He gestures to the right where Wilbur sees a small black wheelchair next to Tommy's bed and he tries not to choke on his breath. He hates being right sometimes.

Tommy sighs and closes his eyes, his head droops and Wilbur rests a comforting hand on the young boy's shoulder.

“It was one of the warehouses on the outer perimeter of the east side, Tubbo had asked me to help him take stock, it was already late and he thought if we both did it we could catch the last bus home together.”

He imagines the two of them dancing to stupid music and running around the warehouse playing tag or something stupid, it wouldn't be the first time.

“We weren't even halfway done before one of the alarms went off, didn't think much of it, smoke alarms go off all the time for stupid shit right. Didn't even reach the office before the first blast. Was a Molotov I think, probably what set the alarms off, no idea what turned the warehouse into a fucking bomb though.”

“Something exploded, don't know what but it got both of us. Landed on my shoulder real good. We ran to the back entrance, or as close as we could get before another blast went off, fucking ceiling came down on me. Hurt like a bitch but at least it's nothing permanent. Think I was out for a bit, not for long but long enough for Tubbo to hurt himself trying to get shit off me. ‘Rest is a bit of a blur to be honest, don't remember much between getting hit and ending up at your door.”

Wilbur takes a deep breath and shakes his head, it's not gunna help anyone if he starts getting emotional right now.

“Who would have done this.”

“That's the thing, I got a call about two minit's before the alarm went off from the master arsonist himself asking where I was. He never calls me will, not once. I didn't even know he had my fucking phone number.”

“Wait, why would sapnap want to blow up one of our warehouses.”

“I don't know, but Will, I lied. He asked if were were out on any jobs and I fucking lied I don't know why but I told him me and Tubbo were playing fucking video games at home, and not two minits later the place where I told him we weren't goes up in fucking flames.”

Wilbur sits in silence and looks between the two injured boys. He can't help but feel fury building in his chest, he doesn't care about the thousands of dollars lost in the fire, couldn't give less of a shit about Dreams fucking money. He’s angry that two teenage boys had been ambushed in an attack at a warehouse that his employer had promised were protected. God only knows what would have happened if Wilbur hadn't been home. He tries not to think about what would have happened if Tommy hadn't been there either, he stands and tries to get the image of Tubbo being trapped in that warehouse out of his head.

 He grinds his teeth together in confusion and anger hopes to god Tommy's wrong.

“Where are you going.”

Tommy looks up and meets Wilbur's eyes, the young boy sees the fury burning in them, he knows the older brit is mad and to be honest, he doesn't blame him. He watches Wilbur walk round to Tubbos bedside and picks up his cracked phone, he doesn't mention the way he’s sees Wilbur's hands shake.

“Ill be back okay, I've got a phone call to make.”

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

someone behind me was tracing my steps / maybe you’re better off this way

Fandom: Kamen Rider Ryuki

Characters: Asakura Takeshi, Kido Shinji

Songs: "After the Fall," October Project & "Passive," A Perfect Circle (playlist here)

Takeshi’s sitting against the wall, bleeding out, and the mirror guy—Kanzaki, right—is standing over him, mouth twisted in something he vaguely recognizes as dismay. “I can’t use this, there’s barely any energy left,” he says, not to Takeshi, and there sure as hell isn’t anyone else in the room. “I’ll have to reset.”

“Hang on a second.” Takeshi coughs and feels his mouth fill up with the taste of copper, which isn’t such a bad flavor when you get down to it. “What about my wish?”

Kanzaki doesn’t even look at him, already fucking around with the mirror. “You don’t want anything, there’s no point.”

“Sure I want something.”

“…what on Earth could you want at this point? It’s all going to be reset anyway.”

Takeshi grins up at him, knowing that it’s sure to be an unnerving sight with his teeth all over blood. “Lemme remember.”

“Out of the question. Giving one participant unnecessary foreknowledge would interfere with the procedure.”

“Nah, nah, I’m not gonna interfere with shit. It was just a hell of a time.” Takeshi looks up just as Kanzaki is looking down and grins his bloody grin a little wider. “I like to remember times when I had fun. Looking forward to doing it over again. Let me remember.”

---

It’s not until he graduates university that Shinji realizes that he’s missing something.

Slightly after, really. He graduates, he works some shitty part-time gigs, he does some freelancing, and then Ookubo gets in touch and offers him a job at Ore Journal. That’s all fine, but when he steps through the door of the Ore offices he’s hit with a wave of déjà vu so powerful that he nearly trips and falls face-first into Reiko’s desk. Fortunately he catches himself before anyone notices. It had been bad enough trying to explain to his mother about the girl who lived in his mirror when he was thirteen; he can’t imagine how the people here would react to, “I remember walking into this room for the first time at least eight times over.”

He gets a grip on himself, but the feeling of loss stays. He’s missing something, and he doesn’t know what. Sometimes he’ll get a glimpse of it, he’ll pass someone on the street or overhear a snatch of conversation and a fragment of memory will overwhelm him, but he never gets everything.

From the bits that he sees, he’s not sure that he wants to get everything. It might be better to be missing something than to remember.

---

Takeshi’s known that he’s missing something for a long time now, and whatever it is, he wants it back.

He’s not exactly an educated guy, but he knows himself pretty well, and the idea that there’s a big chunk of him missing is galling. He can feel its absence. He can’t tell what it is, it hasn’t got any kind of useful shape, no edges that he can detect, but it’s his. And since he wouldn’t just go carving out part of himself, that means he’s been robbed.

He doesn’t take kindly to being robbed.

Mostly, though, he can ignore it, the way you ignore a hole in the wall that you don’t feel like repairing yet. He does what he likes, gets what he wants, eats when there’s food, and doesn’t think about it unless he reaches for something in his mind and finds that it isn’t there.

And then he sees the journalist.

Some sweet-faced kid, he is, showing up at a bar that Takeshi likes and bugging the regulars about a local ghost story that Takeshi knows for a fact is bullshit. He doesn’t try coming over to Takeshi’s corner, because the bartender visibly warns him off, but he’s talking to everyone else. That suits Takeshi fine. He can just sit with his drink and watch and remember, in shards and splinters, tantalizing and incomplete.

Kido Shinji is what’s printed on the business card he swipes from the bartender once the journalist leaves, with the address of a tea shop written on the back in pen.

Now there’s a name that rings a bell.

He stares down at the card for a moment, not sure whether he’s pleased or furious, and then heads out. Guy couldn’t have gone far.

---

Shinji gets through the door and is immediately handed an apron and a bandana for his hair. “Dishes.”

“What—Ren, I just got here.”

“Yeah, and there are dirty dishes. I don’t have time to deal with them, there are customers.” Ren squints at him for a moment, frowning. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?”

Shinji pauses in the middle of tying back his hair, uneasy. “I’ll tell you once there aren’t customers. Where’s Miyu—he’s still working, ok.”

Ren rolls his eyes. “Apparently that middle schooler who was here last week told all of her friends about him, he’s been busy all day.”

There are a lot of dishes piled up, and it keeps Shinji busy until Ren’s shooing out the last customers of the day. Atori’s different without the old lady, but it’s not a bad different; hopefully she’s happy in whatever warm place she moved to after she sold the shop to Ren. She’d certainly never seemed happy here.

He’s happy here. In a stable place, with a little bit of stable work apart from Ore, with people who inexplicably love him for reasons that none of them quite remember clearly.

When the last customer is out the door, Ren leans back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, and says, “So something’s bothering you, spit it out.”

Shinji frowns down into the dishwater. “I think someone was following me again today.”

“What, again? How long’s this been going on now, two weeks?”

“Three and a half. Ever since that thing I was looking into about the ghost, do you remember that one?” One saucer in the dish rack, start washing the next piece. “Maybe I pissed off the ghost.”

“You said there wasn’t a ghost.”

“Well, yeah, but what if there was and now it’s following me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not being chased by a ghost.”

Shinji glances nervously over his shoulder, as if he’ll see his ghost reflected in the tea shop window. “How can we be sure, though?” He picks up another dirty cup and starts to wash it. “Some of the things I remember…”

Ren’s arms wrap around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. “They aren’t here,” more softly and gently than he usually speaks. “No ghosts. Just you, me, and Miyuki.”

“No ghosts.” Shinji takes a deep breath. “You’re right. No ghosts.”

---

The place isn’t tough to break into. Decent locks, but nothing Takeshi can’t get past with a crowbar. He lets himself in and looks around the vaguely-familiar tea shop with interest before heading past the counter and to the back. Stairs lead up to the apartment above, and sure, they creak a little, but that’s nothing to worry about. After all, he’s still got the crowbar if he really needs it.

Upstairs, the place is chaotic in sort of a cute way, decorated as it is by three people with clearly pretty different sensibilities, fragments of three very different lives on display. It smells faintly of frying oil, too. Someone made something good for dinner tonight. On a whim, he checks the fridge, finds a container of leftover gyoza, and eats them absently as he contemplates the shopping list stuck to the freezer door. Eggs, rice, sliced pork belly, in neat handwriting that definitely isn’t Kido’s.

He finishes the gyoza and the tail-end of a carton of milk, leaving the empty containers behind on the counter and picking up his crowbar again as he heads toward the back of the apartment.

There are three bedrooms, and none of them are marked, doors closed against the darkened hallway. Checking each one would be a hassle, and might lead to more trouble than Takeshi feels like getting in right now. Instead he just remembers how jumpy Kido seemed even before Takeshi started following him and lets intuition lead him to the room closest to the fire escape.

The door swings open, and the first thing he sees is a cloth square on the wall. A covered mirror.

There we go.

Kido’s asleep, sprawled across the bed with his head tossed back and his hair spread out on his pillow, throat pale and exposed. Alone, which makes things a little easier. There’s a computer desk set up in the corner of the room; Takeshi grabs the chair from it, drags it over next to the bed, and sits, resting the end of the crowbar on the floor as he’s saying, softly and cheerfully, “Hey, Kido. Wake up.”

A shift, an irritated mumble, “Not time to—” and then one eye opening halfway and the jolt, Kido scrambling upright in the bed, one hand flung out to the side reaching for something that isn’t there.

What isn’t there?

Splinters reform into another regained memory: a deck of cards in an elaborate case, gleaming purple metal smooth and cool in Takeshi’s hands. There’s a name that goes with it, or maybe more than one, faint and still lost but centimeters from the tip of his tongue.

Kido’s gone white as a pan of milk, hand still empty because they’re in a world with no decks, now, no monsters that Takeshi suddenly remembers with fondness, not nearly as much fun, and Takeshi leans forward on his crowbar and smiles, friendly, like, and says, “Come on, Kido, I remember you being more interesting.”

---

Shinji can hear his heart beating over the ringing in his ears. There’s a bit of light coming in from between the mostly-closed curtains, just enough to see by, and with his hand coming up empty and his unwelcome guest illuminated so that only golden hair and white teeth are visible, he is assailed by memory.

He knows this man.

From the corner of the bar where he’d been looking into that ghost story, sure, the one the bartender had told him not to bother, but also from before, from ten befores or more. A killer, vicious and cheerfully so, dangerous to be around, but beneath the adrenaline thrum Shinji can feel another pulse, pity, pity, pity, perhaps misplaced but still there.

He fights to get his breathing under control and says, “Asakura. What are you doing here?”

“You took something of mine.” Asakura’s head tilts slowly to the side, semi-friendly grin still visibly. “I came to get it back.”

“I don’t have anything of yours.”

“Never said you did. I said you took it. Didn’t say I thought you had it.”

“That…you know that doesn’t make sense, right?”

“None of this makes sense, Kido. We live in a world that revolves around a guy like you.” Asakura leans forward, one hand darting out to grab Shinji’s chin, ragged nails digging into his skin. In the dim light his eyes are flat and dark and predatory as their gazes lock, only taking on any gleam as he drinks in…something, whatever he’s getting from looking at Shinji like this. Shinji nearly asks, in fact, but he can’t quite speak, and anyway Asakura’s talking again, still as cheery and conversational as he has been. “Used to be, I got the deck in my hands and I’d remember all of it. That was the deal. Don’t know how the mirror guy finally bit it, but whatever happened, you’re the key to everything now.”

Shinji’s considering shouting for Ren, because even if he did have a dragon at his beck and call, the mirror is covered. Then, of course, he notices the crowbar. And Asakura continues to look at him, searching for something that Shinji is apparently giving him.

“Pathetic.” Abruptly, Asakura lets go again. “You used to be fun, Kido.” He stands, shouldering the crowbar like a baseball bat, and heads for the open bedroom door, only pausing briefly to say, “Call me if you ever decide to get the band back together, yeah?”

Shinji remains frozen for what seems like a long time after he’s gone, dizzy with memory and his heartbeat noisy in his own ears.

He doesn’t remember the end of things. None of the ends of things, actually, and he’s not sure if the others know that it happened more than once, how many times they were put through the same wringer. Whatever it was, though, whatever he or they finally did, it was permanent.

He never would have expected someone to resent him for it.

Finally he finds the focus to move, raising a hand to rub at the sore spots on his jaw before getting out of bed.

Miyuki’s bed is disturbed by unoccupied, and this fills him with a banked and indistinct dread until he comes to Ren’s room and finds them both there, Miyuki sprawled as inelegantly as always and snoring lightly at Ren’s side. Ren is awake, barely. “Bad dreams all around tonight, I guess,” he slurs as Shinji closes the door, and moves over to make space. “Wha’ was yours about?”

Shinji curls up beside him and says, softly, “Just ghosts.”

---

Takeshi strolls down the middle of the empty street, crowbar on his shoulder, in such a good mood now that he’s very nearly whistling. It’s a damp night; the streetlights make shadows in the fog that look like old friends he now remembers, any number of enormous beasts stalking him as he walks. Which makes him want to laugh, and so he laughs, and the sound bounces off the buildings and the fog in an echo that could go on forever.

“Goddamn,” he says to a fog-reflection that shifts and changes with every step he takes, now a vast snake, now a rhino, now a stingray. “That was a good time, wasn’t it.”

The fog makes no reply, but the shadow continues to follow him down the street as the echoes of his laughter die away, and after a moment, feeling almost jaunty, he starts to whistle.

[ri-ahhh]

Okay, but with Grayson complaining about being lonely and wanting a girlfriend I CANT HELP but to think about how horny he probably is on top of that. Like- its been on my mind for days, so can you PLEASE write something about gray meeting a bitch, like through friend or something, and realizing he likes her and then having these dirty thoughts about her, and like he doesn't want to but he just cant help it... I will die and love you forever, you're writing is my absouloute favortie.

Ur so sweet babe haha thank you😊 hope this is along the lines of what you wanted.

Getting his dick wet has never been a problem for Grayson Dolan; not since receiving his first sloppy, inexperienced blowjob when he was on tour at the tender age of 16. There’s been a steady flow of girls in and out of his life ever since, fulfilling both his needs sexually and the fleeting desire for noncommittal intimacy. And that’s how he likes it for the longest time. Easy and no-strings-attached.

But he’s older now, and even though quarantine hadn’t stopped him from hitting up his favorite one or two booty calls every now and then, he feels empty in a way that’s becoming all-too familiar. It’s not a new feeling, but every time he leaves their homes (because that’s his number one rule — hookups stay out of his bed), there’s a longing that wasn’t satisfied and that’s becoming more and more apparent to him.

So he stops fucking around — literally. He believes in the power of the mind and manifestation almost to a fault, and considers that maybe he’s letting casual hookups interfere with what he really wants: companionship.

It seems like a breeze at first. Grayson swears he feels lighter, clearer in the head, more focused on what he wants out of his life. He puts his mind to being the best version of himself and hoping that it’s enough to attract the same kind of person that he can put all of his love and effort into in return.

As months roll on, however, he realizes that sometimes the universe just doesn’t listen right away. And for the first time in his life, Grayson discovers the monotony and reality of what it’s like for the ‘regular’ guys out there, whose only sexual pleasure comes from their own hand and the porn category of choice for the night. He was used to that as a filler, for sure, but not as his one and only outlet.

Plain and simple, he’s horny. All the time. Which makes him grumpy, and irritable, and frustrated with both himself and everything around him. So when Ethan tells him in passing that his girlfriend is flying in from New York with her friend to visit, it just makes him grunt. The fact that his brother is in such a happy and healthy relationship himself is a point of contention for Grayson in his head. He’s thrilled for Ethan, but he can’t help but dwell on the creeping jealousy in his chest. Here he is, starved for both intimacy and sex now, and Ethan will get served both of those the following night in excess while Grayson lies in his bed alone.

The next night, they’re all having dinner at the kitchen table — all four of them, including her. The friend. The friend that Ethan had mentioned would be coming but that Grayson had so brusquely ignored. The friend that had his eyebrows raised the second she walked shyly through his front door, drawn in immediately by her beauty.

The friend he can’t keep his eyes off of now as she goes to town on the roasted sweet potatoes and black bean burgers he had made himself. She’s quiet but witty and has a cute laugh that makes his heart flutter a little in a way he hasn’t experienced in a long time.

He feels a nudge against his ribs, and startles when he jerks to the side to see Ethan staring at him pointedly with a knowing little smile on his lips.

“You’ve got ketchup on your shirt, bro,” he says, nodding to the blob of red on Grayson’s white shirt that had dropped from the forkful of sweet potatoes, which had only made it halfway to his mouth as he listened to her talk.

“Shit,” he mumbles embarrassedly, flushing a color near the tomato-red that’s now stained his shirt. Of course, the first time he’s feeling real feelings around a beautiful girl, he has to revert to awkward, clumsy Grayson rather smooth, relaxed Grayson.

He starts to scrub up the mess with his napkin, but she reaches out from her seat across the table from him and grabs his wrist in her petite hand. “Oop, wait! Dab, don’t swipe, or you’ll make it worse. I know how to get that out as long as it’s not smeared around into the fabric.”

Grayson swallows, his arm flaring with goosebumps at her gentle but insistent touch, but tries to keep his cool. She’s grinning at him amusedly, then sits back in her seat when Grayson follows her instructions.

“I thought ketchup was one of those things that you’re just kinda fucked if you get it on your clothes, Ethan says, filling the silence left by his brother.

She shakes her head. “Nope. Peroxide will get it right out, especially if you wash it after. Do you have any?”

Ethan cocks a brow and looks at Grayson, hoping he’ll use the opportunity to speak to her. Thankfully, he does, even if it is lacking a little bit of gracefulness. “Huh, peroxide? Oh... uh, yeah, I — yeah, in my bathroom.”

“I’ll help you when we’re all done, if you want,” she offers before taking a modest bite of her burger.

Grayson nods, and can’t help but watch the way she sucks a bit of barbecue sauce off her thumb once she swallows. His heart picks up and he has to shift in his seat a little when she winks at him, his pants tightening under the table. Damn it. He’s been trying to avoid that reaction and those thoughts, determined to do this right.

He fixes a smile to his lips, and hopes his face isn’t giving him away. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Everyone helps clean up the table and dishes, and Grayson leads her into his room while they leave the other two to have some alone time. He prays that he made his bed that morning and that there’s no dirty underwear on the floor or used tissues on the nightstand.

Luckily, the floor is relatively clear, and the bed is made, if haphazardly so. She follows him into the en-suite bathroom and watches him dig under the cabinet in the first aid bucket he has down there.

She’s wearing jean shorts and a loose-knit sweater, and when Grayson starts to stand back up he takes a moment to appreciate the tone in the muscles of her legs and the flashes of skin he can see through her top, hoping he isn’t being too obvious.

She takes the brown bottle from him and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “It’ll be easier if you take this off.”

Grayson nods, and can’t help the laugh that escapes him when she turns her back to him. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you your modesty! I don’t know you, for all I know you might be super insecure.”

“At the risk of sounding like a total douche, I promise I’m not,” he answers, reaching behind his neck to tug the collar up and over his head. “Here you go.”

She turns back around, and Grayson doesn’t miss the way her eyes travel over his sculpted torso. He can’t help but smirk a little, thrilled at the cute blush that tinges her cheeks when she meets his eyes and realizes she’s been caught.

He hasn’t had a woman look at him like that in months, however, and he’s grateful when she tells him, “This will need to go in the laundry tonight if you want to make sure the stain comes out, so you’ll need another shirt anyways.”

It gives him an out to duck into his closet, taking a moment to collect himself before grabbing the first T-shirt his hand touches and slipping it over his head.

“Cold water first,” she informs, smiling at him through the mirror when he re-emerges as she leans over the sink with the water running. She shuts off the water and squeeze out the excess, then takes the peroxide and pours some onto the stain.

“Woah,” Grayson says, eyebrows raised in surprise at the fizzing bubbles visibly picking up the bright red from the fibers of his shirt. “Where did you learn this trick?”

“I work in the toddler room at a daycare. We keep this stuff on sight and scene to avoid 20 outfit changes a day on a few two year-olds. I’m sure you can imagine the amount of ketchup and blood stains a toddler procures on the daily.”

Grayson chuckles. He feels himself growing more fond of her by the second. “You like kids?”

“I love them,” she replies with a grin. “Working in childcare is pretty rough, but it’s been a great college job. Lots of experience for my degree. And, you know, good practice for the future one day.”

If he hadn’t been sold by now, that does it. Beautiful, smart, and good with kids?

He takes a moment to assess himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t think he’s letting his dick lead him right now, even if he does want her that way. He’s just as attracted to her mind as he is the curves of her body and the features of her pretty face, and finds himself wanting to talk to her for hours on end.

He doesn’t realize there’s a heated silence, both of them standing there staring at each other, until she clears her throat and holds up his shirt. Grayson glances down at it to see just a faint brown rim around what use to be a bright red mark. “All done.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking it from her and tossing it in his laundry basket. “Come on, hopefully we don’t walk into something we can’t unsee.”

“You make a pretty good meat shield,” she says jokingly, following close behind him. “All big and broad. I can just hide behind you and keep my eyes unscarred.”

Grayson laughs loudly, his ego swelling, and he has to resist the urge to take her hand in his. That would be too much. Right?

Thankfully, the couple is just cuddling innocently on the loveseat when they enter the living room.

“Movie?” Ethan asks when the two of them settle on the couch, a respectful and calculated distance between them — not too close and not too far.

“Sure.”

They’re all in a fun and lighthearted mood tonight, so they settle on Moana. Grayson wants nothing more than to throw his arm around the beautiful girl next to him, who sings along playfully to the songs she knows, her enthusiastic movements shuffling her closer to him. He doesn’t know if it’s intentional, but he doesn’t really care; her presence in both body and spirit feels good to him.

Ethan’s girlfriend only makes it about halfway through the movie before she’s passed out, tired from the long flight earlier that day. He looks down at her fondly and chuckles when he sees her nuzzled sound asleep against his chest.

“I’m gonna take her to bed,” he announces quietly before standing with her in his arms. “Goodnight, guys.”

They both murmur back “goodnight” and watch Ethan disappear down the hall. The movie plays on for a couple of minutes, before she’s turning to him and making small talk. Which turns into broader conversation about bigger things. Which leads to them settling so close that their knees touch. She finds an excuse to pick an invisible fleck of something off his hand, which turns into their fingers playing with each other’s teasingly.

Which turns to Grayson checking his watch in a quiet but not unpleasant lull, and muttering, “Oh, shit,” in surprise.

She checks her phone lying on the couch cushion behind her. The time shines back at her 1:27 AM.

“Damn, when did it get so late?” she wonders aloud, looking at him amusedly.

Grayson shakes his head. “Time flies,” he says. Whether it’s the late hour, or him getting his mojo back, or just the fact that he’s so naturally comfortable with her, he suddenly feels bold enough to reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you tired?”

She blushes and bites her lip, allowing him to keep his warm palm pressed to her neck while his thumb strokes the ridge of her jaw gently.

“Not really,” she answers, scooting that much closer to him. “Not ready to go to my bed, anyways.”

She’s referring to the guest room she’s already settled her things into. Grayson smiles. Rules be damned, he thinks, until he realizes in the next moment that there’s no way this amazing girl is going to be just a hookup. There’s no rule to be broken.

“Why don’t you come to mine, then?”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Teenage Dream

CW: Pet whump/dehumanization/whump of a minor in 2nd section, some brief noncon references in 2nd and 3rd sections, gratuitous Katy Perry in every section because Chris wouldn’t fucking shut up until I wrote this.

---

“Come on, Aki, please? Please?” Tristan’s pleading is married to his big green eyes and his coppery hair shifting across his forehead. The perfect sincerity of his request would crack any facade of ironic detachment. And Akio is trying to look detached.

“Tris, nobody likes that fucking song.”

“That’s, that’s not true, ev-everyone does, it’s on on on the radio all the, the, the, um, the time,” Tristan counters easily, and Akio can’t exactly argue that. And he can’t say well nobody cool likes it, because of course Tristan wouldn’t know he was joking and not being mean. He can’t always tell what’s a joke and what isn’t, and Akio heaves the most dramatic sigh he can manage and allows the younger boy to pull him onto his feet, making a big show of dramatic reluctance as he goes stumbling forwards onto the practice mat. 

“Just because it’s on the radio doesn’t make it good, Tris.”

“But, but, but I like it, and-... and I had some, um… some ideas. Please, Akio?” 

There’s the big green eyes again.

Akio sighs, rakes a hand back through his hair only to have it flop back over his forehead, and smiles. “Yeah, fine. Okay, Tris, show me.”

“Yes! Awesome. Thank-... thank, thank you, Aki.” Tris pulls him in for a hug, crushing tight like nearly all of Tristan Higgs’ hugs are, and Akio tries to look aloof and above it all. Someone nearby wolf-whistles and Akio throws a middle finger in no particular direction in response. 

“Get a fucking room, Nakamura,” Lisa Huang calls out, stretching her legs off to the side. Akio changes the direction of his middle finger to aim directly at her.

“Yeah, but then you’d miss the show, Huang, and what would you do then?”

“Oh, oh, oh my God,” Tris mutters, his face bright red, but he’s bouncing on his toes and his fingers are tapping on Akio, so he knows it’s okay. “This, this, it’s not-”

“Hey, she’s just being a shit because she’s jealous I get the Tris hugs. Aren’t you, Huang?”

“Literally, I am going to melt into the floor from envy any minute now,” Lisa replies, sitting back on her hands. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to hug the Tristan Higgs and Akio Nakamura, huh? And yet-” She throws her hand over her forehead dramatically. “Neither of you ever notice me.”

“Sorry, Huang, my heart belongs to Tris.” 

“What?” Tristan’s eyes are wider than ever, not following the joke, it’s all so sincere to Tristan unless he’s mad, and then he seems to get sarcasm well enough. 

Akio just grins. “Kidding, Tris. Come on, show me the idea you had. I want to see, even if it means… listening to… that.”

“No, you’ll like it, Aki, I-I-I promise. Can, can, can you hit, um, um… play, Lisa?” Tris yells over the sound of the others talking, working out, practicing on the bars or the beams, the low-level noise the gym is always filled with. Akio and Tristan are officially not practicing today, but they’d both wanted to come here and Akio’s mom had been okay with driving them on her way to take Akio’s little sister to kiddie soccer, and Tris’s mom is going to pick them up later to take them home.

So here they are.

And here Tris is, convinced Akio should help him build a routine to Katy fucking Perry.

“Okay, Tris,” Akio says, and sits himself down at the edge of the mat next to Lisa Huang, legs crossed, elbows on his knees. “Here we go.”

“You know which song it’s gonna be, right?” Lisa says under her breath, finger hovering over the button on the ancient CD player that their coach lugs around. “You know it’s gonna be-”

“Yeah,” Akio breathes. “I know. Just hit the fucking button.”

Lisa laughs, presses play, and they watch Tris take a breath, shake out his shoulders as guitar starts up first. He flashes a smile at Akio over his shoulder.

You think I’m pretty, without any makeup on…

Akio manages to suppress a groan and watches Tris dance, the dancing is always effortless to him, natural rhythm running through him. 

“God, I wish men did music with their routines,” Lisa mutters. “He’d nail every single one.”

“He nails it anyway.”

“Yeah, but with a soundtrack.”

He takes position, runs, hits his mark, and flips three times, spins, and lands right as the voice sings, you make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream, slowly turning, dropping into splits and back up again. Akio feels his own legs tighten in sympathy. 

I can’t sleep, let’s run away and don’t ever look back

“I hate this fucking song so much,” Akio says, and watches Tris line up for his next run. 

“Yeah, but you like him,” Lisa points out.

Akio rolls his eyes. “Everyone likes Tris. He’s my best friend.”

Don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back-

Tris misses the landing this time and goes down hard, rolling across the mat. Akio’s on his feet before a second has passed, and by the time he makes it to Tris, the other boy is already laughing, shaking it off, ready to start again.

Akio helps him up to his feet, and fuck it, he’ll listen to the song again if he has to. He sits down next to Lisa again, but he can already see how it would work - he’ll move around Tris fluidly, they’ll match movements here and here and here, and then they can run past each other at just the right time…

Lisa looks at him sidelong. “Now, see, you’re getting into it.”

“He is.” Akio shrugs. “I just like seeing him all excited.”

“What would you do without Tristan Higgs, huh?”

Akio watches, carefully, as Tris nails the spin this time, watches him drop into the splits and back up, rock his hips. “I don’t know,” He says, finally. “Probably waste the fuck away, Huang.”

“Damn straight. Five bucks says you guys end up with one of those ‘if we’re not married by 30, we’ll marry each other and get eleven cats’ deals.”

Akio snorts. “I’m allergic to cats.”

There’s a silence. “What, is that your only problem with that plan?”

“I don’t see any downsides to the rest of it. Do you?”

---

Nancy clears off the breakfast table. Mr. Branch is long gone, up to his office for a meeting with a few state senators on a piece of legislation, something about changing a holiday over to another holiday or something. She isn’t all that interested, really, but Mr. Branch likes to talk through things with her or the little pet before he gives interviews or has meetings. Likes a sounding board.

She’s paid well enough to listen, now and then, to something she doesn’t much care about.

Still, it means she’s late getting the table cleared. 

She’s got her little radio set up in the corner, playing a soft rock station, just something to fill the silence broken otherwise only by the soft clinking of spoons on bowls. Mr. Branch had had oatmeal this morning, with fresh fruit and a drizzle of syrup on top, a scattering of almonds. Watching his figure, he says, with a smile, and Nancy always smiles back.

The coffee cup is going to have a ring, she’ll have to scrub that out, won’t she? Well, that’s not so bad. 

You make me feel like I’m livin’ a teenage dream, the way you turn me on, a woman’s voice blares out from the radio. 

Nancy wrinkles her nose. 

Teenagers, in her experience, are entirely too much trouble and don’t know a damn thing. A song glorifying that whole lack of self-control doesn’t exactly seem like a good idea to her. Teenagers are a hassle, messy and a struggle to care for, and she can’t figure out why Mr. Branch wanted to bring one into the house so badly.

Well, no.

She knows why.

She tries very hard not to think about it, but she knows.

Honestly, Baldur is probably the most well-behaved teenager she’s ever met. The poor thing doesn’t have enough memory to be ungrateful, and he’s not going to roll his eyes or talk back any time soon, is it? They train all those impulses out of them, in that WRU facility.

He wouldn’t dare.

She hears a soft scrape, the unmistakable shuffling footsteps of Baldur himself, and glances up at the door.

He’s peeking in, Mr. Branch’s skinny pet, hair hanging over his hazy green eyes, slightly narrowed in an attempt to see her in focus through the drugs he is fed each morning like clockwork, keeping him slow, docile, easy to control.

Maybe he doesn’t roll his eyes because he’d fall over if he had to do more than one thing at once, including simply standing up.

“Can I help you?” Nancy asks, adding a sharp edge to the question. Her stomach flips, as always uneasy when she’s alone with the pet. 

Baldur licks at his lips, carefully nudging the doorway open just a little more, his eyes shifting away from her and down to the floor. He’s barefoot and wearing a tailored sweater and slacks, like any high-class boy. What gives him away of course is the barefeet, and the collar at his throat, soft green leather that probably doesn’t feel any different than skin to him.

After all, he never takes them off.

Is he even fully aware he has one on?

“I… I like the song,” He says, slurring his words with difficulty. He sways a little, catches himself, sways again. Leaning against the doorframe for support. His eyes are so very wide, so deeply green. His narrow face is pinched with the effort it’s taking him to pull his thoughts together enough to speak. “On th’... the radio, Miss Nancy. Like th’ song.”

Nancy turns to glance at it, as though the radio had just appeared when he spoke about it.

Let’s run away and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back

He likes the song? He isn’t supposed to like anything.

She steps over to the radio and briskly changes to a different station. A warbling country song is halfway through, something about lights and a woman who left. Every light in the house is on…

Baldur flinches back.

He looks like a sad sort of kitten, and it makes Nancy feel angry and guilty in equal measures. She leans into the anger to avoid the hint of thought inside of her that makes her think perhaps she should push the damn thing out the front door, put him on a school bus with the field trip children, and pretend she has no idea how he got there.

Make him someone else’s problem.

But then she’d have to explain how she knew he was here in the first place for this long, wouldn’t she?

 “You know you’re not allowed music,” She chides him, and watches him sink back into himself. She swallows back the guilt. She’s not the one who signed up to spread his legs for Mr. Branch, now is she? No, the boy made a choice, and it’s none of her concern what led to it or that he regrets it now.  “What would your Sir say if he caught you skulking around eavesdropping on hardworking employees instead of taking a nap, hm? Or doing your exercises?”

“He would… be upset,” Baldur says, softly. “I’m sorry, Miss Nancy. I didn’t…” He swallows, again and again, as though there’s something in his throat. His head drops against the doorframe and she wonders if Oliver gave him too much this morning, if the poor boy is going to collapse into unconsciousness right here. “Please… please don’t tell him, Miss Nancy.”

Well, he better not collapse, because she sure won’t be picking him up if he does. He can lay right there and wait for Oliver to handle his disobedience. “I won’t, if you’re a good boy now. Go back to bed, Baldur,” She says, a little more gently this time. “Your Sir will want you well-rested this afternoon, his schedule is cleared then.”

He looks up at her, and for a second he looks incredibly young, and terribly frightened.

Her heart twists, before she can stop it.

I didn’t make him this. He chose it.

She hardens her expression against his fear. He’s afraid of Mr. Branch, she knows it well enough. He’s afraid, and he’s bruised at the wrists and ankles most of the time. Last week there were red marks around his neck at breakfast, and Mr. Branch would only mention a game, the poor love couldn’t stand forever, I suppose. 

And he’d laughed.

She turns away from the pet’s terror, rattles the plates together to make a point that he is dismissed. She won’t look at those wide green eyes again. He signed a contract, after all. What is it to her if he doesn’t like the fine print? 

“Yes, Miss Nancy,” He says softly, and in a second he’s gone. She listens to the fading shuffle of his footsteps along the hallway, the sound of Oliver’s bedroom door opening and closing. He’ll be out before ten minutes has passed, she has no doubt. He’ll sleep away the morning like he sleeps away so much of his life. 

She makes a note to herself to be out of the residence before Mr. Branch comes back after lunch, ignoring the needling stab of something in the back of her mind, something very like guilt.

He’s a boy.

No, she reminds herself firmly. He’s a pet. And he chose to be one.

She turns the radio back to the soft rock station and tells herself she won’t think about him again.

---

“You think I’m pretty, without any makeup on,” Chris sings along with the mp3 player in the kitchen, dancing around with a wooden spoon up to his mouth like a microphone. “You think I’m funny when I tell the punchline wrong, I know you get me, so I let my walls come down… do-oh-own…”

His voice cracks on the high note, but Jake holds back any reaction, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the countertop that he’s beginning to think is just part of the stupid house now. When does a stain stop being a stain and become a fixture?

And here you’ll see the sign of where I spilled pasta sauce and didn’t notice until the next day and what the fuck is the countertop even made of…

Not that Nat will sell this house, she’ll probably stay here until she’s a decrepit old woman surrounded by rescues taking care of her. The house is Nat, in a way that Jake can’t define and doesn’t really try. She’ll be telling people an epic story about it being a bloodstain or something one day, all wrinkled and gray-haired.

“My heart stops when you look at me,” Chris sings, and Jake watches his hair fly around as he spins, the copper catching yellowed morning sun through the kitchen window. 

Should he tell Chris that he doesn’t stammer when he sings?

The barcode on the inside of his left wrist is the black blot marring the moment, the numbers etched in ink, an instant giveaway if he stepped one foot out the door around the wrong people. Here, he’s safe to show it. Here, he’s safe.

Mostly.

As safe as Jake can make him. 

Jake’s rib still aches, off and on, but his black eye is gone and he’s back at school. It’s all back to normal, now, and Chris is right here where he belongs, where people love him, where Jake would take a bullet for him.

He can’t get the image of the shivering, shaking, terrified boy in the video he was shown out of his head. The way they laughed at his fear, the way he’d already learned to put out his hands to be hit when he was caught tapping to soothe himself. 

He can’t stop seeing that boy and his fear layered over Chris’s easy joy now. 

“This is real, so take a chance and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back,” Chris winks at him, or tries to - really he just sort of closes one eye horribly slow - and then goes back to humming along with the music. He dances effortlessly, and Jake wonders if he danced, before he was frightened in a white t-shirt and black shorts, before he had a barcode on his wrist, before they stuck a needle in his arm and took out everything that made him whoever he’d once been.

What did Chris do, before he was Chris, before he was the pet, before whatever went wrong for him? Did he take dancing lessons? Did he get good grades in school? He kind of acts like maybe he did, doesn’t he? He seems like he wants to try so hard for anyone who believes he can do something... 

He can do backflips and cartwheels and climb trees, plays basketball with Miss Ruth’s grandson and his friends while Jake watches through a window, worried that he’ll be taken the next time, but not willing to lay that fear on Chris.

He’s scared of so much. Jake doesn’t want to add more terrors to the boy’s nightmares.

“I’m-a get your heart racing in my skin tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight,” Chris sings, wearing a baggy t-shirt of Jake’s and baggier basketball shorts. Chris, who crawls into Jake’s bed more nights than not, ever since the raid, who sleeps curled up against him for warmth and safety.

Chris, who doesn’t test him anymore, but admitted that he’s scared that it will happen again. Who told Kauri, in whispers in the dark, that he’s never wanted to be with anyone, that it was always fear and pain and holding screams back behind his teeth while forcing himself to make the sounds they trained into him.

Jake’s stomach flips with nausea, guilt for something he couldn’t possibly have prevented. It’s not his fault, but it feels like it is, he feels like he should have psychically known the kid was out there and gone to find him.

He would have.

If anything ever happens to him again, Jake won’t stop until he finds him. He knows that. He understands that, with perfect certainty.

They’ll never take Chris, they could raid the house a hundred times, and Jake would make sure Chris never went back into that hell, no matter what. No, Chris gets to be safe, here, singing and dancing around the kitchen, like any teenager enjoying a moment where he wants to be a dork, and doesn’t care who sees it.

Jake smiles a little, giving up and sitting back in a chair at the table, watching Chris dance while he dries off a dish, goes up on tiptoe to put it in the cabinet, turns back, warbles, “My heart stops when you look at me…”

Did Chris have a girlfriend, or boyfriend? A partner? Just, like, a best friend even? Someone he cared about like this? Does this song tap on some buried memory or impulse towards loving someone? Jake just watches him dance, and sing, and smiles.

He doesn’t even protest when Chris starts the song over as soon as it stops.

I came back for you, he thinks. Just like I promised. Do whatever you want, I’ll be right here. I’m right here. You’re safe.

Jake hears a slight sound and turns to see Nat in the doorway watching as well, in her housecoat but with her braid done carefully up, arms crossed in front of her. Chris doesn’t pause, if he even notices her, just keeps dancing as he empties the dishwasher piece by piece with his back to the door, signing in a soft, slight, cracking voice along with the higher voice coming from the speakers.

Nat looks less shadowed, now, and her bruises have faded away.

Still.

WRU came to round up a pet, and Nat and Jake protected him, and fuck it-

If he wants to listen to music Jake hates, let him. He’s a kid. Let him be a kid.

Chris has lost enough.

Let him have joy.

---

“Do you remember this?” Akio can’t stop himself from asking, even though it’s a total crapshoot as to what Tris’s answer will be.

Not Tris. Chris.

The knowledge hurts, it’s a knife in Akio’s stomach every single time, that Tristan was lost so thoroughly that the man who showed up with his face and his blood and his bones didn’t remember his own name until he saw the video with Akio and had… some kind of breakdown or something. 

But Chris is so close, and Akio uses that to remind him that it means Tris is close, that he was never fully gone. He’s still here. He just looks a little different, now, he’s quieter, but it’s all still there, bubbling up and sinking beneath the surface again, leaving imprints of memories that make it easier for Chris to grab onto them and hold tight the next time. 

The way he smiles, the way he taps and rocks and sways and stammers, it’s all still there. It’s all still Tristan Higgs, in the end, and Chris Stanton and Tristan Higgs are the same fucking guy. The teenager in Akio’s memories and stored in old photos and videos on his computer and his phone is the same person as the man sitting next to him. 

One just… lived through some stuff the other one hadn’t yet, and has the scars - inside and out - to show it.

“I, I, I don’t know,” Chis says, leaning forward, looking at the video Akio’s pulled up on his laptop. They’re at an outdoor café, with the sun shining warm on their backs. Chris’s hair is starting to grow back in, the occasional blue tip fading back to new-penny copper, and the bandages are off of his face and neck. His forehead’s going to have a wicked fucking scar, though.

Chris says he doesn’t care, that it shows that he could change himself, when he needs to. That he isn’t just here to be changed by other people. His shoulder brushes Akio’s as he cocks his head. “Sorry, stuff… um, comes and, and, and goes.”

“That’s okay. Here, I’ll press play. We had this one finished, more or less, but we never recorded the full bit.” Chris nods, holding his coffee up to his mouth to sip at it. 

Akio hits play, and the guitar starts up.

Chris laughs, and it’s Tristan’s laugh - bright and unselfconscious, loud enough to get a glance from someone nearby reading a book, before they look back down again. “I love, I, I, I love this this this song!”

“Oh, Christ.” Akio laughs, too, he can’t stop himself. “Of course you’d still like that song. Of all the things you lost, you kept Katy Perry?”

You think I’m pretty, without any makeup on…

The routine starts with Tris and Akio together in the middle of the mat, watching each other, hands linked. As she starts to sing, they shift apart, and Chris watches, enraptured, so close to the screen that Akio almost can’t see it anymore himself, not that he’s watching the screen.

He’s watching Chris, instead.

Chris’s foot taps to the beat and he starts to rock a little, forward and back, biting down on his lower lip with his teeth as the Akio and Tristan on the screen separate enough to hit their separate corners. Tris runs forward - then Akio does, a half-beat later.

You make me feel like I’m livin’ a teenage dream

They match flips and spins. Tristan lands and then Akio does, spinning to look at each other, laughing as Tris drops into a split and then up again and Akio… definitely doesn’t do that. Akio can do a lot of things, but he is not risking that particular move, not the way Tristan does it-

Or… did it.

Let’s go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love…

“I, I, I remember doing this,” Chris whispers. “I, I made my mom pretend to to to, to, to, to-to be you in the backyard when I made, made it up. She was a really, really bad dancer.” He winces, rubbing at the side of his head.

Akio nods, slowly, leaning in, looking at Chris as he watches himself dance on the screen. He’s squinting against the ache, but still watching. “Yeah, but she would do anything you wanted her to. I can see her trying to keep up.” He pauses, lets the tinny music play from his laptop speakers along with the noise of the gym around them as Akio and Tristan do another run. Akio doesn’t quite hit his landing on that one, but they don’t stop, dancing towards and around each other with easy, effortless understanding of each other’s space. 

“You, you, you hated Katy Perry,” Chris says, softly. His fingers twitch, holding tightly to his coffee cup. “But, but-”

“But you fucking loved that shit,” Akio says, with a grin. 

“I, I, I still do. Laken hates it, too.”

“See, I knew I liked them for a reason. You and my sister used to sing ‘Firework’ at me until I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind.”

“I, I, I still sing it to Laken. They, they throw pillows at me.” Chris hits the space button, pausing the video, and turns to look at Akio. His eyes are still so wide, in his narrow face, and so earnest and uncertain. Akio swallows. It feels like stepping sideways through time, every time Tristan’s eyes look at him in Chris Stanton’s face. “Were you, you, you good… without me? Did you, um, do okay?”

Akio’s smile softens into something sadder. “After a while. I got back on track, but for a year or so… I guess I just wasted away without you. You want to hear something stupid?”

“Al, always.”

Akio huffs out laughter, and digs his phone out of his pocket. He taps a few times and then lays it on the table between them. “Look at this.”

Chris looks down, fingertips just grazing the phone case, and his lips press together into a line as his eyes glimmer, shimmering with tears that don’t quite fall. “Wh-what-”

“It’s all the music you like that I hated,” Akio says, voice hoarse and rough. “I made this playlist a month after your aunt said-... you know.”

“It’s, it’s, it’s called ‘I Miss Tris’,” Chris says, softly. His voice sounds awed. Like he’s looking at something sacred and not Akio’s stupid ‘having a bad night’ playlist. “And the, the, the first song-”

“Fucking Teenage Dream.” Akio watches Chris scroll down the list, pretends he doesn’t see the droplet of saltwater that lands there, that Chris quickly wipes away with his sleeve, rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand. “It’s been, what, six or seven years since, you know, your parents, and… god, I’ve gotten a new phone every couple years and I still have this fucking playlist. Still listen to it, too. Whenever I want to mope around being sad about you.”

“In… in there… they, they, they tell us no one misses us.” Chris’s voice is low. He doesn’t look up. “That, that, that our lives were so so so-so bad that this was better. That no one… no, no, no one missed us being gone, no one wants us, that we-we-we weren’t… worth loving. I believed it. And my-... um.” Chris flushes, just a little. “He told me I, I, I, I wasn’t something you could-could love.” Chris’s eyes go distant, and he seems to sink back into himself a little, hunching his shoulders. “P-pretty, but, but, but not… worth being more than I was.”

Akio’s jaw works, fighting a mix of grief and rage that threatens to knock him to the floor, drown him in the intensity of it. He’s been hearing bits and pieces, whenever Chris feels safe enough to let one more bit of the horror that made up his past few years slip out.

Akio wonders what it’s going to do to his career if he goes public as a lib activist, and if he even gives a fuck about that anymore.

If Vincent Shield can do it, he can too, right?

Then again, Vincent Shield wasn’t about to be publicly not straight for the first time and also a pet lib activist. Akio’s mom and dad are going to be so pissed when he tells them his idea-

He doesn’t care.

His parents aren’t going anywhere. Neither is Ben, whatever he and Ben are, neither is Tristan Higgs.

Not this time.

Nobody else should have to listen to someone they loved come back from the dead and hear them say they told me no one loved me, they told me no one missed me, they told me no one cared. 

So... maybe Akio can go up on the fucking pedestal, medal around his neck, and tell WRU to go fuck themselves. Maybe he can tell Chris’s Aunt Jo to go fuck herself specifically.

You told us he was dead, and you gave him to people who made him believe he was nothing, and you thought we’d never find him. And we didn’t.

God, he had to find us. 

His career’s going to go down in flames if he does what he’s planning, and Akio Nakamura is rapidly discovering he no longer cares. 

“Loved. You were-... loved.” His voice is tight and strained, cracking on the edges of his words. His hand curls into a fist on his thigh where it’s resting, digging his nails into his palms. “And missed. We would have-... we would have wanted you, Chris. My mom and I, my little sister won’t admit it, hell my dad… we missed you. Those assholes just wanted you to lose hope. And I’m glad the fucker who hurt you is dead.”

“They, they, they take everything. Aki,” Chris pushes Akio’s phone back to him, and looks back at the laptop screen, an image of himself, years ago, flashing a brilliant smile, with Akio rolling his eyes in return as they pressed their hands palm-to-palm, frozen mid-move. “But, but, but it’s not really gone. I remember how, how, how much you hate this song. And, and, and I remember that you still danced it with me. So, so, so that’s a start, right?”

“It’s a start.” Akio presses the button to start the video again. “And we’ve got plenty of time.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript, @itallcomesdowntopain