#guess who's rereading crisis and crying all over again (:

[carehurt]

CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS // BARBARA GORDON & KARA ZOR-EL

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Close | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut

Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, explicit sexual content (making out, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has gray hair (18+)

Word count: 22.6k

Part 2: Hold Me Closer

Summary:  When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

A/N 1: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy! 

A/N 2: I did a reread and fell in love again with this JK so I wrote a part 2 and did a 2024 version of this one. 💕

Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last five minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and on your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on. 

You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right? 

Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.

The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.” 

He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway. 

“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.

Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in. 

Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess. 

“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.

“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”

Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency. 

“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.

“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—”

“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.

“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.

You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.

“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.

“Jimin. Times two.”

“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?” 

Jungkook laughs in agreement. 

“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after,” you tell him.

“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”

“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.

You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?

“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.

You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle. You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”

Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration. 

You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”

He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!” 

He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.

You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents? 

“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh. 

You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already, but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and unpredictability.

You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in. 

She checks the clipboard then turns to Jimin. 

“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. 

She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot. 

After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”

“So I’m not staying?” He asks.

“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies. 

“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”

You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious. The concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily sits at the back of your mind. Until Jimin speaks up.

“But, something else feels broken.”

“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.

“My heart.”

“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.

The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.

Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous. 

“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask. 

While your three-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business. 

The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home. 

Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.

“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.

“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like, should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.

“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway. 

Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.

“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.

“There goes my weekend,” you gripe. 

“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.

“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m not that bad,” he defends.

“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina because I could already tell he was going to be a problem, but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”

“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jimin scowls, and you all laugh as he’s transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.

You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain. 

Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot. 

“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not that organized, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”

Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.

“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”

“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.

You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.  

“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask. 

“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”

“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But is he serious about the whole Tae thing?”

“Seems like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness. 

But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports a parted hairstyle, a sharp jawline, tattooed arms, and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory you have of him. 

“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.

“He actually already invited me over the weekend and told me to bring my PS5 so we could play.”

“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?” You groan.

“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”

You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”

“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing. 

A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused. 

There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics. Jungkook heard it, though. 

Then there was Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade. Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew of your obsession with fairies.

When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing. He was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that. 

And three years ago, your large group of friends that included him and Jimin went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours. It was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon. 

Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always. Then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too - the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling. 

You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head. 

He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.

Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting him to ask you to repeat what you just said.

“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”

Jungkook chuckles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’s witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you and Jimin have gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook says, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind. “You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”

This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.

“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”

It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you wouldn't notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go. 

Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded to by saying it adds to his charm. 

Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him not to listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth. 

Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over at your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college. 

He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type. 

Maybe it was the age or the level of maturity. Maybe it was the sense of security. Or maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly, he doesn’t know exactly what that is. 

But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, consultant ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party was because Jimin had been hurt. 

If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores. 

With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.

It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are three large luggages and a few boxes. 

You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”

You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”

Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.

“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.

“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.

You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid. 

“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”

“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence. 

“I swear, he was so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out. 

“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”

Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing. 

Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you. 

“Thanks, ___. You—”

“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.

“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.

You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.

“Everything okay, ___?” 

You heave out a sigh.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?” 

Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently. 

You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats. 

Your parents are biased towards your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you. 

Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud. 

Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything. 

You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.

“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”

True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”

You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other. 

Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”

“Goes both ways, I guess.”

“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”

Jimin, in all senses of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do. 

Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS5 that isn’t actually broken.

In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play video games together, prompting Jungkook to leave his PS5 at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.

It usually starts with the topic of your brother, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook become hysterical over, followed by something about your work, and then something about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like memorable patterns and customers. 

Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only three years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the five years before you went to Seoul to study.

Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers. 

This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls. 

Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him. 

He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that large, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark doe-eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. 

Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.

It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs. 

“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing at the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”

“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this for some time. 

“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says. 

“And you let him?”

At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.

“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.

You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he hurts his neck?”

Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother. 

You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers. 

Jungkook looks at you fondly. For someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.

You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away. 

“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”

He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.

He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice. 

“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are,” you look up at him.

“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.” 

He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier. 

You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass. 

“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.

“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. 

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.

“So you just switched to apple juice?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”

“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. 

You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.

“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?” 

“Now that is a lie,” he shakes his head. “May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. You tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”

“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”

“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”

“His choices were always so boring!” You whine.

“Or that time when—”  

You throw him another pillow. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. 

“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.” 

Jungkook laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two. It was those times when he felt wanted. 

“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them,” he says.

“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.

“I drank, remember?”

“Not much, though.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know either, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”

You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up. 

“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”

“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.” 

You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself. 

“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.” 

You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.

“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook narrates, not missing how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking the way you are.”

Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.

“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he says it or not,” he adds.

And there goes the water works, as you burst into a sob and cover your face with your hands. This causes panic in Jungkook, and he immediately goes to you, initially unsure of what to do. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that are flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues. 

You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, makes you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask.

Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.

“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”

You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” 

Jungkook wipes another stray tear on your cheek.

“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”

“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.

“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder. 

It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action. 

“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”

You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he shifts, lays his hand on your back, then rubs circles on it.

He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.

Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a routine of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, who’s now become a staple in your household and your life. 

At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children. 

He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.

Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over to his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while. 

It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative. 

On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your head on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.

“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”

“Oh, like a visual resume of some sort?”

“Yes!” Jimin states. “I want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”

You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know. 

“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.

“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.

“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___,” Jungkook points out.

“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You counter.

Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”

“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.

“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy about? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart freezes at your comment.

“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin declares. “He’d travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.

“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?

He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.

“Maybe I can help,” Jungkook offers.

But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he helps you out, right?

“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh. 

Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combination. He even helps out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want. 

You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.

He wants this to last but he also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same. 

Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his. He’s quick to get back to work and focus on something else. This still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, exposing more of your shoulders and neck. 

He shakes off the butterflies in his stomach and pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’s been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close. 

You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same. 

The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video - which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin - your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar. This comfort and simplicity - it makes you feel like it’s home.

The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.

It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”

It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker - he gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them and takes it one day at a time, whereas you always have to consider the future. 

You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother. 

“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over two years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.” 

Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you have common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were. 

You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story. 

“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”

“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says. 

“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook frowns. 

“You’re the one focused on dating, not settling. You avoid those conversations,” his best friend points out.

“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. 

You’ve seen Jungkook with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.

“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…” 

He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.” 

He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, someone who needs to see things far ahead to know what to do. 

There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.

Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together? 

The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the ‘could be’ was more exciting than the ‘what is'? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind. 

Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act. 

“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.” 

You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you. 

“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly. 

“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “You made them happy but not enough for you to fall in love.”

This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”

He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking. 

And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you. 

“I - I actually don’t know.”

Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.

Your movie and PS5 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his dancing practice, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses. 

Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.

Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. 

Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.

It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.

Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? 

It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, that makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were. 

It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, So-Hee’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is. 

Of course your friends would never make you feel any less. That’s really on you, which is probably worse.

The party is in full swing. Gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner, who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem. 

Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and maybe on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though. 

For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that. 

You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said. 

He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back. 

“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.

You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work. 

“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting. 

You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence. 

“Unfortunately,” you sigh.

“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems, or you haven’t changed one bit. 

“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”

He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat. 

“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.

His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.

“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, a wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”

You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room. With the two-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness makes it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed. 

You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.

He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, the way he sees the world and himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. 

His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.

“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”

Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does. 

“I’m sorry, it was my uh—” he says, unsure.

“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.

“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in three months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.

“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice. 

He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.

“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”

“You’ll be okay?” 

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too. 

Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. 

From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement, too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago. 

Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your fifth glass of champagne and your three shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin - he'll never run out of alcohol regardless of the occasion. You laugh along with your friends, although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying. 

Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside. You can maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.

You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.

“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing. 

You turn around and meet chocolate doe-eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.

“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter. 

You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”

“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you. 

He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.

“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”

You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows. 

But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, and the guy next to you is chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while. 

You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food. 

“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.

“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.

He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is. Definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.

“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.

“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”

“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your shots I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”

You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now. 

“I had a bad week,” you finally say. 

He nods in acknowledgment.

“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams, and I’ve been stuck in the same company for five years where my efforts aren’t being recognized.”

He nods again.

“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.” 

Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.

“And?” He asks.

“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough… I’m so inadequate and—”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he interjects, his tone both reprimanding and worried. “You’re none of those things.”

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging the way they used to.

This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this. 

“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.

“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. 

There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.

“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than, well, us,” you explain. “It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, and what that meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”

“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.

“Flirt with him?”

Jungkook nods.

“Being with him used to make me feel like I knew what to do, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”

“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough,” Jungkook says, his whole body turning towards you.

“You had one bad week. That happens to all of us. But it’s over now, isn’t it?” He continues. “Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, and which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you and look up to you the way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”

Your lips are quivering, as you force yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. 

“That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest,” he says. “You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”

You let this sink in and think of all the times that people turned to you, asking what to do and to be taken care of. And he’s right. You had one bad week and you can allow yourself to cry and feel bad and maybe be a bit irresponsible. 

“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up,” you tease in an effort to keep yourself from breaking down.

“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.

You nod, a smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful. But Jungkook is holding you close without touching you; he’s making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies are angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. 

You hate to admit how much this scares you, but you shrug it off, not wanting to deal with the thought, given your not-so-sober state.

You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook took a cab, too, in anticipation of drinking so you both decide to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.

The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except during the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.

“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer. 

He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation. 

“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.

You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid. 

“You know, you were always the good guy,” you smile. “Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Won-sik was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sung-woon was always finishing our ice cream, and Jong-in was such a flirt.” 

Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.

“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much then you’d help me clean up their mess. You’d even help me in the kitchen. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”

“That was embarrassing,” he shakes his head.

“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”

“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” 

He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly, with your eyes curiously looking at him. 

“It was an opportunity to be near you,” he manages to say. “Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”

You gulp and look away, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?

“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—”

“Do not say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”

You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—”

“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. 

You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.

This eases him, but it prompts him to test the waters.

“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.

You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his oversized denim top and puts it on you.

You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.

Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images they’re currently making up. 

All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted? 

You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel. But your mind is still hazy and you’re also now quite flustered, so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!” 

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. 

He smirks and probably knows you’re lying. 

“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry,” he says, as he quickly enters the bathroom and grabs a towel to dry himself. “Go wash up and get ready for bed.” 

“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control. 

“Do you want me to?” He counters, flustering you even more. 

What is with him? 

You roll your eyes and trudge towards the bathroom to clean up. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again. 

You open your door and seconds later, he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it. You think he's evil for testing you but you take it and act unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him. 

Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“For what?”

“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” 

At this, his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.

He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me,” he says, his voice low and raspy but you know he also means it.

All you’re able to do is nod. 

He turns to you before he closes the door.

“Sleep well, ___.”

You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts. 

The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.

He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Jong-in, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped. 

You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation. 

You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.

“Shit, woman!” Jimin shrieks. “Learn your manners and put some clothes on!”

It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.

“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.

Your brother is too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.

Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.

“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back. 

Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling. 

“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”

“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” your brother cringes.

For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.

You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help. 

Jungkook stands next to you. “Did you mean that?”

You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”

“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.

Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more. 

You’re a 28-year old grown woman getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking younger man and you feel so pathetic because you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.

There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him. 

This continues for the next few weeks. Jungkook’s lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret. 

He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.

You keep your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder and he definitely notices this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes. 

He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then. 

You promised to stop smacking him after the time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.

You, however, found out exactly how good those arms look shortly after. He and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher. It was safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout though, with your brother already in a better condition.

After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red hoodie to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing. 

Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is. 

It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. 

You wake up and groggily get out of bed. You stop by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from where you are, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.

His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips, with the band of his Calvin Klein boxers peeking out. His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. 

It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and— is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his—

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing. 

Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body. 

His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences. 

“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.” 

“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”

He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized university shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance - any closer and you might fall into temptation - and you throw it to him. 

He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.

You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.

“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.

He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he takes his time. You don’t want to imagine what else he could possibly be doing in there.

You decide to wait with your brother who’s been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group. 

They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.

You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there. You trudge out of the guest room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form. 

You groan. “Ugh, that was so long,” you mindlessly say, only meaning to complain about the time it took him to get himself clean.

“Oh it is.” 

His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration. 

He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.

Jungkook will be busy for the next two weeks, as he shares that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You try not to seem affected when Jimin teases him since it’s going to be on a woman’s breast this time. 

“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asks.

Your eyes burn your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected, so you feign interest and go through Instagram and pretend that other people’s lives are more interesting than the conversation you’re currently privy to.

“Yeah,” Jungkook laughs. “That was fun.”

Jin calling you is your saving grace, and you spend the next hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a bright green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wants dark gray because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which you know is true. And so Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste, as is often the case in your friend group, so you convince him to go with beige walls and outer space artworks. 

You’re immersed in your conversation, but you do hear Jungkook knock to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling. Still preoccupied, and perhaps still too bothered, you ignore him, and you notice him linger before you hear his steps walk away from your door. 

It’s day five since you’ve last seen Jungkook when you realize why you’ve been so grumpy. And you hate the moment that it dawns on you - you miss him. You’ve gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, and talking to him about work and other things. You admit to yourself that you even miss his flirting and teasing. 

He’s been such a staple in your life these past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure that whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll just know what to do or say. 

Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat. 

You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it would be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you either. You shrug it off and convince yourself that what he feels for you really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but one he probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?

On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own. 

The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door. You try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?

With ash-gray hair, that’s how. You can’t help it. You take a peak and turn your head before he could turn to look at you.

You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run once you get this stupid box out.

You’re heaving, as you try to get this over with, until a large hand touches your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past five minutes trying to get and— fuck do you miss his touch. You miss his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts. You miss the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.

He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” Jungkook says, his voice low.

“I can do it,” you respond, finding the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair. 

“I know. I just like it when you ask.” 

He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’s been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized. 

You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.

“What else do you like?” You ask.

You want to indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.

Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.

“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously,” he answers. “I like it when you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do and the things I choose for myself.”

His free hand glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you bet he could feel just how hot it is.

“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he moans, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth. 

“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you. 

Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.

This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different. 

You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.

The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you duck down in panic and crouch on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’s seen you be afraid of your brother.

“Kook, has my sister left for the supermarket?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.

Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.

“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”

Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. 

He felt you. You moved with him. You felt him. And he can’t be happier.

He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.

“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating. 

Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’s the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends ever since. 

His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation born out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.

Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school. 

You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted in Jimin's as well, as his friendship with your ex-boyfriend was also affected.

You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t. 

The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.

His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up. 

You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway. 

You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’ll never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.

“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” 

Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game. 

“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know the group more.”

Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him. 

“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.

This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. 

He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.

He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss earlier. It sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that. 

It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room does Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance. And he doesn’t know what to do about it.

You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. 

“But I still need you two,” he proclaims.

Jungkook comes over and you notice how he tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it. 

He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place. 

Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that. 

Jungkook has much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.

Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now. 

Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stops trying does your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?

It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.

“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. 

Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you’re saddened at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.

“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you. 

“I’ve been working for two  weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.

“Is it a guy?” Jimin says out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin asks with furrowed eyebrows. “Oh! Is it one of your co-managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of one of your friends?” 

You try to remember when you told him about that but it was definitely a months-ago issue. 

“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”

“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. 

Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.

“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother. 

“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s So-Hee’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.”

And with your answer, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about So-Hee and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.

“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.

“I don’t know, it’s just… So-Hee’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”

“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with her enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. 

This hits you more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.

Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”

“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch, and he’s never felt farther away. “And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty.” 

You don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.

“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Like me?”

“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess, but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out. “The only loss is you, missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” 

He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.

“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.

“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”

It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.

A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place. You had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room, and you can hear them talking and laughing outside.

Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.

It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.

You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” you say, regretting it immediately because you didn’t intend on sounding disappointed.

He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.

“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours. 

“He’s also gonna be coming over to my place from now on since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently. “Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face. 

You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid. 

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.

He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. 

“Yeah, I guess you weren’t. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.”

He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.

“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—”

“I kissed you, ___,” he interjects, his tone suppressing frustration. “I told you I need you, that I want you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.

“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.” 

And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met and gotten close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.

“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook counters.

“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”

“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”

And you hate that he’s right.

“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”

By now he’s standing in front of you, eyes focused on yours. He could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.

You can move away if you want; there’s definitely space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him. 

“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—”

Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, caging you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now leveled with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.

“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze. 

“I didn’t know what to do with what I’ve started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—”

His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your skin, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access, prompting him to smirk at how you’re slowly giving in. 

“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust. 

“And I avoided you because—”

You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.

“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing, knowing that—”

He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on. 

“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.” 

At this, he stops. 

He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, with your emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him. 

“How exactly do you want me?”

You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you; he makes it all feel worth it.

You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually. 

Your hand finds his face and your fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies as beautiful as this. 

“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me - when I’m sad, happy, angry, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment and let you know how much I want more of those with you, everyday.”

Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.

“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”

Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.

Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.

It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open. 

Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of root beer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.

His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you. 

He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday. 

Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.

You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle. He’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday. 

Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re so lost in your little world, your mind traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next. 

You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. 

“Jungkook…” You whine. 

And then.

“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.

Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both still, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move. 

You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but it definitely wasn’t going be right now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.

“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”

You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

“WHAT?” You ask.

“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but he never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”

Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.

“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m literally friends with So-Hee. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course Jimin would know. 

You feel so stupid; you should’ve known your sassy brother was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was “because of a guy.”

“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.

“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”

God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. You both underestimated your brother, too.

“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.

“No.”

“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.

“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.

Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.

“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook. 

“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... Iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.

And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.

“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.

“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point. 

“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…” 

He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”

By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is now standing next to you, his fingers intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass, too, and he would’ve figured it out at some point.

And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.

And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.” 

“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing. 

“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”

And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.

“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you, “would you like to go on a date with me?” 

With hopeful eyes staring at you, he feels the weight lifted off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same. 

“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing up his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”

You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide nor to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.

He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt. He pulls them off then slowly kneels down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.

His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus. 

You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.

“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”

“What the fuck Jungkook!”

“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. 

But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do. 

You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, a soft smile forming on his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”

“Jungkook,” you stop him. “I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, letting you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like, the one you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him. 

You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”

“Okay.”

And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.

“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.

Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick.

You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, your lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs that are now tensing at the sensation. 

All the while, your hand is stroking his thick member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your movements, his head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, your tongue traversing his dick, causing your heat to clench at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.

At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed. 

“My turn,” he says smugly.

You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.

“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out.

Before you know it, he’s removing himself for you, pumps his dick, then after seeking consent, he thrusts into you, raw. The stretch overwhelms you but it’s so, so good. 

He quickly adjusts and spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view. He growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans get louder as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, with his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.

“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows. 

He adjusts again, flushing your legs against your chest and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.

“Come for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs. 

He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted as he joins your filthy wails that are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin. 

You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, your heart stopping for a moment. 

He feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s he’s just savoring a bit more. But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting inside you. Your back arches as he comes down from his high, and he languidly kisses your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.

He’s too tired to even move, his body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.

He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.

He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.

“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.

You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of gray hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you. 

You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.

“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs. 

“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes. 

Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, he heads to you, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, then places a kiss on your cheek. 

“Good morning,” he greets.

His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan. It just brings you back to last night when, after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your extended fifth. God, this man will be the death of you. 

He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.

“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.

“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces. 

Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”

You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.

“Also,” he turns to Jungkook, who’s now managed to tear himself away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, not again.”

“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.

“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“But…” You start.

“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”

And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward without it when your brother is there. 

The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, the sight before you causing a surprised look on your face to form.

“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.

You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.

“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”

Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.

“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”

“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, his eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?” 

Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.

You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?” 

You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door. 

“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond. 

Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment. 

“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”

masterlist

[brodingles]

Happy Birthday, Kokonut!

Not to get sentimental on main, but I'm about to get sentimental on main, because I haven't done that in a while and this is very important to me.

tw/cw: suicide mention, dementia mention, hospital mention

I drew this 2 weeks ago because it was important for me to have it done, but I’m posting it on April 28th, his actual birthday, as a gift.

April 28th is also the day I graduated from college with my first degree. It was the close of an important chapter in my life. It was the first few years I was ever fully alone, and he was there with me through it.

A lot happened in that time. Some of it is outright devastating and I don’t like thinking about it. I still have nightmares sometimes.

I know it might seem a bit silly in the current landscape of things given how the years have gone, but his character was really important to me when I got into DR. I know we joke about comfort characters now, but he really was that for me. I hadn’t run into characters that thought so much like me up until that point (and to some people that may be concerning-- it’s less so than you may perceive) and I didn’t feel as alone in myself.

Of course, with the behaviors we shared that I liked, I found a bunch that I didn’t like too. Some of them I still do. Some of them I still struggle with. But I know they’re bad now. And I’ve had time to work on them and I’m still fighting every day to work on them.

There were other things that were the same that were outright terrifying. In hindsight, even seeing some of the discussion of them was and still is a little triggering. I have to type this part a bit slowly, because I’m trying to navigate those past feelings safely-- I was in and out of the hospital a lot around this time. I mean a lot. So, so much. My head was rattling, I was so exhausted and weak and I was forgetting so so much. I kept a journal and I reread some of the entries and I was so scared. I still get scared now.

I was diagnosed with a few things around that time, but between the scans and tests and visits, one day my doctor told me something that chilled me: 

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but that sounds like dementia.”

It sent me down a spiral. I was so scared. I remember breaking down and crying a lot of nights because I was worried I would die.

And that was very specific for me. A lot of people completely gloss over this section of his character. Whether they believe he was telling the truth or not was a big contest and I had to stay out of it. (I think at the very least he was diagnosed. But with how his luck goes, who knows what’s actually happening) For me it provided comfort. To have had the wild life up to that point and to be told that specifically when you’re so young. I was young. We were the same age. He may have even been older.

We still don’t know what’s wrong, by the way. I’m about to go back to the hospital.

I started having self destructive thoughts around this time. They’d been dormant in my head for so long, but suddenly they were so much louder. I started posting more ‘vent’ art. It helped. It helped to write someone else saying them. Someone else who COULD say them. He would say stuff like that and it would be no big deal. It was like putting me somewhere more manageable.

I cut my hair for the first time that year. I drew sketches of him with shorter hair to make it less scary. My hair was long and wild and curly just like his was. It made me feel happier to have it. I had always liked my hair but...something about that made me feel more comfortable.  We had the same hair.

but... somewhere in that gaggle I got too attached. So I HAD to cut my hair. I had to cut all ties with him. I had to burn every tie I had to this character to the ground because I couldn’t do it anymore. It became a sore spot. I don’t remember why. I think I was in the middle of a crisis and I had to destroy someone and this was the closest to destroying me I could get.

It’s even longer now than it was back then. I don’t think I’ll cut it again. At least not for those reasons.

Even though it’s ridiculous now, and I’ve definitely moved on to greener pastures, I have to thank this madman for helping me through so much. I don’t know if I’d still be alive if he wasn’t there. I would’ve definitely been so alone. I wouldn’t believe that I deserved better or could ever be better than I ever was if it wasn’t for him.

It made me so happy at the end of the Hope/Despair Animes that Komaeda was doing better, even if he still had his quirks and everyone wasn’t suddenly on his side. I nearly cried by that alone. Because there was hope for him that meant there was hope for me. That one day I’d find my friends and one day I could be free and happy, even if it wasn’t perfect and there were still things to pick up. It made my heart swell. So I wish him happy birthday.

This is very long. I’ve learned that about myself too, haha-- I also like to ramble! I guess some habits die hard. I’m trying to say that ironically, just by existing and getting better he brought me hope like he wanted.

Thank you Kodaka and the Spike Chunsoft Team for the game! I don’t know where I would have been without it! I want to honour your wishes and make something more because you’ve inspired me! Just like you wished!

I want to thank a lot of the characters that I had growing up for shaping me into a better me. I thank them for walking with me through my roughest times when I didn’t have anyone else to. I have more friends now. People who exist IRL to talk to and to bond with. I don’t need my comfort characters so direly anymore. But I still need them sometimes. And I’ve started writing my own! I made my own characters! I’ve grown!

I hope to make someone’s guiding light one day. To make things for them that they have for a season in their lives, and can look back and thank in the future. I have moved past that stage. But I would not be past it without them.

Happy Birthday, Komaeda.

[davidmann95]

Comics this week (7/14/2021)?

Anonymous asked: How’s the comic-booking been this week?

comics-and-videogames asked: Comics this week?

X-Men #1: Actually just plain forgot about this last week, and this was a lot of fun! Trying to do the post-Hickman version of 90s X-Men comics as drawn by Larraz, and it turns out I like that pretty well. To my surprise definitely sticking with it.

Iron Man #10: Thinking I'm finally gonna drop this soon - thinking the time is coming to drop a number of on-the-bubble books.

Captain America #30: My dad wanted to check this out and obviously a lot of it is incomprehensible because it's the final issue of a run I jumped off of over a dozen issues ago, but the central Red Skull confrontation is solid. Even without context though, there's an unavoidable feeling of anticlimax here.

Spider-Man: Spider's Shadow #4: Expanding the breadth of the idea significantly, and I'm very curious how radical the 'changes' in the wake of it will be - will our boy Pete triumph over the worst in himself, or rocks fall and everyone dies in the traditional fashion? I guess that question is the charm of making What-If? longer than an issue as a time.

DIE #18: I suspect this is an issue that'll hit harder when I can sit down and reread the series as a whole, but it still hit pretty damn hard.

Haha #6: Well this book ended up a disappointment. Ice Cream Man itself may face accusations of being a one-trick pony, but it's a lot more inventive with its trick than this ever got. Did laugh at the cheap bit with Arty though.

6 Sidekicks of Trigger Keaton #2: "He was the actual worst person who ever lived, genuinely not a single redeeming quality, absolutely biblical in his petty devoted vileness" shouldn't be a gag that can deliver these kinds of returns when he's not even around in the story built around him but here we are.

Rorschach #10: Liked it.

Infinite Frontier #2: An excellent cross-section of the DCU, in that here's cool pretty stuff starring interesting characters in interesting situations, and here's the JSA and Roy Harper doing the stuff they do in the parts Xermanico doesn't draw.

Wonder Woman #775: Increasingly ambivalent on its take on Diana - worried they really were only letting her have fun because of the amnesia - but everything surrounding her remains interesting. So weird seeing the 'classic' post-Crisis version of Olympus where people are still acting like she's Zeus's kid though.

The Joker #5: This felt a little off and seeing Rosenberg cowrote at the end explained it, but it's still Tynion and Francavilla doing Year One-era Gordon so of course it's good.

Batman: Urban Legends #5: Lead is as good as it has been from the beginning, Batgirls and Grifter stories are fine, increasingly angry at the Tim Drake story because plain and simple WB is not going to allow a story where Robin says he likes boys - even Bendis as I recall clearly got it spiked - so what the fuck does this think it's playing at.

Justice League: Last Ride #3: I don't understand how Zdarsky is doing character-defining work for a character who's been around for almost 40 years and had an ongoing for a decade of that as a feature in an anthology title, while the standalone Justice League perennial mini he's doing at the same time is...fine. Nothing wrong in here but it could come out any number of C-tier DC writers were ghostwriting this and I'd barely flinch at the revelation.

Action Comics Annual 2021: Even with the added space this felt like it was crying out for room to breathe, especially for some of the concluding beats, but this was a really fun issue with a crew of characters I'm happy to see used again; even if they somehow don't end up playing into the megaplot I hope PKJ can keep finding excuses to show what the House of El is getting up to. And of all the figures to apparently turn out to be the big bad of the whole run that's a deep cut even for ME, I imagine it won't even register to a lot of readers as an existing thing and they'll assume this is an entirely new piece of mythology.

[twit-moonstar]

as long as we’re together - brian may x writer!reader

N/A: This is purely a self-indulgent fic I wrote mainly for myself, but I though it be nice to share and see what happens. First half of it it’s just y/n having a crisis, tho, and the second part is like domestic fluff. hope u enjoy! comments, reblogs and likes are greatly apreciated <3

As if being an adult wasn’t difficult enough, you had the dream of becoming a published author and, before starting to try to write, you hadn’t thought about the bohemian lifestyle you would have to face and embrace.

Your parents had pushed you—well, forced seemed a more appropriate word—to study Law, but after a few months after starting you dropped it. It wasn’t what you wanted, you were constantly stressed and unhappy by the prospect of the future that waited for you once you graduated.

Abandoning your career, though, meant the extra help your parents offered was snatched away from your hands. Rent wasn’t extremely expensive—you shared a little apartment with Brian and you only paid half of it—, but you still had to buy food and other necessary things.

Without your parent’s income, you had found work as a waitress at a restaurant and started to send your short stories to some newspapers and magazines to get a little extra money.

You had been suffering from a hard writer’s block lately, though.

Rereading for the second time the paragraph that you had already written five times, you ripped off the paper and made it a bun, throwing it on the floor. A new blank sheet confronted you and you decided to throw away your notebook and pencil with fury.

You were at the edge of tears. Not even that glass of cheap wine you swallowed half an hour ago had helped you to take off the feeling of utter desperation and defeat. If anything, it had only made you feel worse.

The words your father spate at you once or twice came to your mind. ‘All writers are just a bunch of alcoholics’. He had never appreciated your art, no one on your family did actually.

They wouldn’t probably support you until they had a properly published book of yours in their hands since your short stories on newspapers did not seem to impress them.

People have the impression that anyone can write but the truth is very few can manage to write words in a way that has any meaning something. Of course, you were starting to doubt you had that kind of talent.

You check the clock on the wall. 1 a.m. Fear starts to creep from your chest to your throat where it left a lump to settle on your head at this hour, usually, if you’re not sleeping.

These quiet moments at night are where you feel the most that you will never make it, that all your dreams are not more than a little dumb girl’s dream. The letter you received today just seems to fuel that thought. 

It’s like running behind a car, you think. You can never be fast enough to reach it, no matter how fast you run. 

You look at the notebook on the floor, just a few steps ahead of where you are sitting. You need to write something and send it to the newspaper tomorrow but nothing you wrote was good enough. You needed the money. You couldn’t allow Brian to pay again for your part, he was as short of money as you; especially now that his band was spending their money in their first album.

"What are you doing?" Brian asks with his arms crossed and his head resting against the wall, one of his curls falling over his eyes, but he doesn’t bother in push it away.

You don’t dare to look at him in the eyes, so instead, you keep your eyes down. "Just writing," you mutter.

He enters the living room, sitting next to you on the sofa. "Something is bothering you, isn’t it, my love?" Brian takes a lock of your hair and puts it behind your ear, then cupping your cheek.

You lean into his soothing touch with a heavy sigh that comes from the deepest of your chest.

"I- I just -" you sobbed and Brian hugged you immediately upon realizing it, his arms drawing you to his chest and one of his hands caressing your back in circles, comfortably. He shushed softly, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but you couldn’t hear more than your sobs drowned against his shirt.

Your eyes land on the ripped envelope on the table. You could recite the words on the letter inside by memory by how much you’ve stared at it. 

“What’s wrong?”

I’m a fucking fraud, that’s what’s wrong. What if I’m not good at writing? What if this isn’t what I was meant to be? If I’m not a writer, then who am I? But you can’t bring yourself to say that, the lump on your throat doesn’t allow you, so you just pull away and after taking the letter, you hand it to him. He starts to read with a careful expression. You recite it internally.

‘Dear Y/N Y/L/N Thank you very much for allowing us to consider your novel, which we have looked at with interest. However, I regret that we have reluctantly concluded that we could not publish it with commercial success…’

Did I waste all these years? 

“This is bullshit.”

You don’t expect to hear him curse so angrily, but his brows are furrowed and his usually soft hazel eyes are sparkling with fury.

“You’re extremely talented and your book is amazing! You spent years working on it!”

“Yeah.”

“I think it would be a fucking commercial success,” he states but you bite your inferior lip to avoid the tears from spilling. The editorial doesn’t think that way and seems like the rest of the others who received your novel didn’t either.

At least you got a response. Most people don’t even get that. 

“It’s the only response I’ve got, Bri. I don’t think I’ll ever get published,” you whisper and he throws the letter to the floor and kneels in front of you, wiping away your tears.

“Whatever. I’ve got to keep working,” you reply dryly, cleaning your face with your hands and picking up the notebook and the pen. Brian stares at you.

“No, you’re tired. I’ll prepare you a bath and then you can go to bed,” he states, taking away the notebook from your hands and you whine. 

“Brian! I have to do this!” You say furiously, but he doesn’t even flinch to your elevated tone of voice. You, on the other hand, close your eyes with regret and breath deeply.

“Bri, I’m busy. Let me alone.”

You hate yourself for asking him that because you don’t mean it. Being alone is the exact opposite of what you need, but you decide the money is far more important than your emotional state at the moment. 

You could always cry later.

“No. I know well enough to know what you’re trying to do. You’re overworking yourself while you drown on your self-pity.”

“I’m not doing that,” you say but the quickness on your reply gives you away.

“Please, take a bath,” he asks, taking your hand. 

You shrug. “I guess I could drown in the tub.”

He laughs with little amusement and leaves to return for you after ten minutes. You would be lying if you said the hot water didn’t look appealing. Brian helps you to take off your clothes and you sit on the tub. 

“Please tell me you didn’t use my oils and scents.”

“Uh, I did.”

“That was the last I had! I was saving them for a special occasion!”

“Drowning seems special enough,” he says with a shrug.

“Very funny.”

“What were you trying to write, anyway?”

“A story for the newspaper.”

“Why have you been selling your stories for cents? You know they have much worth than that,” he asks. He reaches for the shampoo, putting a bit on his hands and starting to wash your hair. You close your eyes and let him do it. Brian’s hands always find a way to relax.

“I need the money,” you reply.

“What for?”

“Rent and food.”

“Y/N, you know I can take care of it,” he says, almost reproaching you.

You feel a little uneasy before the idea of Brian paying for you, you didn’t like to ask money borrowed and less if you knew that he would be too gentlemanly to accept your money later, even if he needed it.

“We’re not a married couple in the thirties, Bri. I can’t ask you to pay for me. I don’t even know where did you get the money from last rent. I didn’t cover my part.”

“You don’t need to ask for anything, love.”

“Still, I don’t want you to do that”

“I know you just said we’re not a married couple but as long as we’re together, I’ll support you when you need me, y'know?”

Your eyes teared once again and you smiled as you tried to prevent crying again. How were you blessed with such a kind and considerate man like Brian? You were such a mess, lately, but he never backed off from being a firm yet gentle shoulder to cry on. 

“Thanks. I promise I’ll repay you,” you say. 

“You don’t have to. C’mmon, let’s get you out of the tube before you start to get too wrinkled,” he replies, helping you to stand out. As Brian leaves you to dry yourself, he gets you some comfortable clothes. Once you were dressed, you both lied on the bed, you on Brian’s arms. 

“Tell me about your day,” you said and you felt him smile against your hair. 

“We tried recording a new song today, I’m not quite sure if the name is good, though,” he commented, running his hand through your hair. You closed your eyes and let him ramble about the problems they had with today’s recording.

“You’re falling asleep already?” he asked in a whisper.

“No, I’m listening,” you mumbled but you felt yourself drifting away more and more.

“That’s okay, my love. Sleep.”

“I love you,” you mumbled.

“Love you too,” he replied and you finally fell asleep.

[thelastspeecher]

Recoil - Chapter 1: Stopping Power

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   AO3

A little while ago, I reread the AMAZING fic “1 Step Forward, 20 Years Back” by @infriga and remembered that about a year ago I got a prompt from an Anon to write basically that same situation, wherein de-aging happens during the big portal fight, but flip the script and have Ford be the one that is de-aged.  And I got inspired by infriga’s awesome fic and decided to revisit and revamp that concept.  So here is the project I’ve been working on and cryptically referencing lately.  A multichap following that concept that is FiddStan endgame.  A first for me.  Expect a regular upload schedule, because this puppy is basically all done.

Summary: The fight was going as it always did for Stan and Ford. Hurtful words followed by clenched fists, no resolution, no quarter given. That is, until Ford turned eight.

Stopping power (noun): the ability of a weapon to incapacitate a target

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

              Stan sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on the back of the small child sleeping next to him.  In the dark, he could only see dark curls standing out against the light pillowcase. Soft snoring filled the room. Satisfied, Stan began to stand up. He paused for a moment, then sat back down, watching the sleeping boy, thinking about the events that had led to this moment.

----- 

              “You ruined my life!” Stan snarled, trying to pull Ford’s damn book from him.  Ford’s attempt to hold onto the book failed.  Stan stumbled backwards, the book clutched to his chest.

              “I ruined nothing!” Ford shouted, shoving Stan.  “You ruined your own life!”  The small of Stan’s back hit something hard and metal, and Stan collapsed to the ground with a cry of pain and a wince.  He looked up at Ford, a few feet away, bathed in the light of the machine Stan couldn’t remember the name of.  Ford opened his mouth, probably to shout some more.

              The glow emitted by the machine grew brighter and brighter, filling the basement room corner to corner.  Ford looked at the machine, apparently shocked out of fighting mode by the change. Stan couldn’t interpret the expression with which Ford stared at the machine.  Fear?  Anticipation? Confusion?  Before he could narrow down the emotion, a sudden bolt of electricity shot out from the center of the light, striking Ford square in the chest. Ford fell to his knees with a cry.

              “Ford!”  Stan threw aside the book and rushed over to his brother, crouching next to him. Ford’s body crackled with electricity, miniature bolts of lightning running up and down his skin.  “Stanford, what’s-”  Before Stan could get out the rest of his question, a high-pitched ring sounded from the machine.  It rose in volume threateningly, making Stan watch the machine, bracing himself for some new horror.  As abruptly as it started, the sound cut out.  The light vanished.

              Stan blinked away the spots dancing before his eyes.  Once his vision cleared, his jaw dropped at the sight in front of him.  Where moments ago, a man in his late twenties had knelt, now a young child crouched, shivering.  Stan recognized the boy immediately.

              “Stanford?” Stan said cautiously, reaching out a hand.  Ford’s twelve fingers clenched, scraping against the dirt floor.

              “Leave,” Ford said in a quaking voice, his eyes screwed shut.  Stan swallowed.

              “I- I don’t think I should.”

              “Just-”

              “Look at yourself,” Stan interrupted.  Ford reluctantly opened his eyes.  His gaze fell upon his now small hands.  His breath hitched in his throat.

              “What- what- how?” Ford whispered.  The shivers from before intensified.  With a fevered energy, Ford inspected rest of his body, rubbing his hands over his face and scrawny limbs.  “No.  No. This is- this can’t- what’s-” Ford looked up at Stan.  His cherubic face was framed with thick brown curls that their mom would spend ages trying to tame before temple.  Tears spilled from his wide, brown eyes onto his ruddy cheeks.  Any doubt Stan had as to what had happened was instantly dashed.

              Ford couldn’t be any older than ten, but Stan couldn’t quite tell his exact age in the dimly lit basement.  A soft keening filled the air.  Stan looked at the machine, worried it had turned on again, only to realize that the sound was coming from Ford.  He looked back at his brother.

              He’s in full breakdown mode.  Every inch of Ford’s small body was wracked with sobs.  Stan’s mind kicked into overdrive, remembering lessons from the few Boy Scout meetings he’d been to before Filbrick deemed it a waste of money. Crisis situation.  Whattaya do first?  Make sure that anyone who’s panicking stops.  Then fix the problem.

              “Ford, I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?” Stan said, forcing himself to remain calm.  Ford shook his head.  “C’mon. We’ll do it together.”  Stan placed his hands on Ford’s shoulders. “One big breath in.”  He took a deep breath.  “One out.”  He breathed out.  It took a few cycles of this before Ford was actually doing it.

              Not sure whether it’s because he’s actually listening or because he’s getting annoyed by me.  But it doesn’t matter.  Stan and Ford breathed out together.

              “Good.  Now, this part is gonna be tough, but don’t think about anything.  Turn that big brain of yours off for a little bit. Just think about the breathing,” Stan said.  Ford frowned at him.  “Just trust me.  Breathe in. Breathe out.”

              After about five minutes, Ford had stopped shaking.  Dried tear tracks shone on his chubby cheeks.  He hurriedly attempted to scrub them away with his sleeve.

              “Stanley,” Ford croaked.

              “Yeah?”

              “What- what happened?”

              “Your guess is as good as mine, Sixer,” Stan said softly.  “All I know is that you’re a kid again.  Which shouldn’t be possible.”

              “Yes, well, a fair number of things happen in Gravity Falls that shouldn’t be possible,” Ford said.  He took off his glasses to better rub away the tear stains on his face.  Stan’s heart sank.  They had been mostly covered by his glasses, but Stan could now see dark circles under Ford’s eyes.

              Ford would skip sleep a lot in high school, but it was never this bad. What the hell happened? Ford got to his feet shakily.  He abruptly began to lean to the side.

              “Whoa!”  Stan grabbed Ford before he could completely collapse.  “Okay, you need to sleep.”

              “No, Stanley, Bill will-”

              “I don’t care who the fuck Bill is.  A slight breeze could knock you over.  You’re gonna take a nap.”

              “But-”

              “No buts,” Stan said briskly.  He scooped Ford into his arms.

              “Stanley!”  Ford fought back but was too weak to do much of anything.  “This is demeaning!”

              “Yup.”  Stan headed for the door to the basement.  “I don’t care.”

              “But Bill-” Ford started.  Stan began to walk upstairs.

              “I’m gonna find your bedroom, put your butt in bed, and then you’re gonna take a nap.  We can talk after that.”

              “If I get coffee-”

              “Hell no.”

              “Bill-!”

              “I’ll keep watch,” Stan said.  “I won’t leave your side.  Just- you need to sleep.”  Ford continued to protest as Stan wandered around the house, trying to find Ford’s bedroom.  His protests grew fainter and attempts to wriggle free weaker as he became more tired. By the time Stan had located Ford’s bed, he was already fast asleep.  Stan carefully tucked Ford into the bed and removed his glasses, setting them on the bedside table.  Ford rolled over in his sleep and mumbled something blearily.  Stan took a seat on the floor next to Ford’s bed, determined to keep his word.  He watched Ford sleep, his mind going a mile a minute now that the immediate problem had been taken care of.

              What the actual fuck just happened?

----- 

              Ford woke slowly, gradually surfacing from deep sleep.

              Sleep?  Oh, no! Ford’s eyes shot open.  He sat bolt upright in bed.  Bill!  There’s no telling what he did while I was sleeping.  Why the hell did I fall asleep?

              “You’re up,” a voice said.  Ford looked over.  Stan sat next to his bed, watching him with a carefully guarded expression. “Good.  I really need to pee.”

              “I- you-” Ford started.  He shook his head.  “What?”

              “Well, I said I’d keep watch while you slept.  But you slept a lot longer than I thought you were gonna.  If I don’t find a toilet soon, I’ll probably piss myself.”  Stan’s tone was light and airy.  Like his neutral expression, false.  “Where’s the john?”

              “Um…down the hall to the right,” Ford mumbled.

              “Great.  Be back in a second.”  Stan got to his feet, ruffled Ford’s hair, and then rushed out of the bedroom.  Ford watched him leave, bewildered.

              Why did he muss my hair like that?  And what is he still doing here?  Ford swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stopped.  Ice filled his veins.  Gone were the muscled legs from field research, replaced by the knobby knees and skinny feet of his childhood.  The events that had transpired last night came crashing down over him.  Ford put his head in his hands, unable to form any coherent thoughts.  His brain was filled with static.

              When Stan finally came back, Ford was still sitting mutely on the bed.

              “All right, now that’s taken care of…”  Stan sat next to Ford.  “What the fuck?”  Ford managed a weak laugh.  To his consternation, it came out as a giggle.

              “I don’t know, Stanley.  I’ve theorized that age regression is possible under specific circumstances, but I have no idea of how those circumstances were met downstairs.”

              “You really get up to some weird shit, don’t you?”

              “This isn’t even the worse thing that’s happened to me,” Ford said dryly.

              “Heh.”  Ford kept his head in his hands, avoiding eye contact with Stan.  He didn’t want Stan to look at him with sympathy, or worse, like a child.  “So, uh…” Stan cleared his throat.  “I’m gonna call a timeout on our fight.  I’m not really in the mood for punching an eight-year-old.”  That got Ford’s attention.  He looked up at Stan.

              “I’m eight?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “I, uh, I figured it out while you were sleeping.”

              “How?”

              “You got those frames when we were eight, but they got broken and had to be replaced by the time we were nine,” Stan answered, handing Ford a pair of glasses.  Ford looked down at them in surprise.

              My eyesight is normally so horrific that when I returned to this age, it was like I didn’t need corrective lenses.  I do, of course.  But my prescription wasn’t as strong when I was eight.  And Ford recognized the frames.  Stan was right about his current biological age.  Ford put the glasses on.  The world became clearer.

              “It appears my glasses were somehow affected by the…incident,” Ford said. Stan nodded.

              “Your clothes, too.”

              “My-”  Ford looked down at himself.  His slacks, button-up, tie, and trench coat were gone, replaced by brown shorts and a T-shirt with a picture of an atom on it.

              How did I not realize my clothing had changed?  This is getting stranger by the second.

              “You kicked off your shoes while you were sleeping,” Stan continued.  “One hit me in the head.”  Some part of Ford was pleased to hear that.  “Looks like you lost your socks, too.”  Ford continued to stare at himself.  “What’s up?”

              “Just attempting to use this new information to narrow down the cause of my regression.”

              “You don’t remember?” Stan asked.  Ford looked at him.  “Lightning came outta that thing in your basement and hit you.  Dunno why it did that or why it turned you into a kid. But that’s what I saw.”

              “That complicates matters,” Ford mumbled.  He rubbed his eyes wearily.  Despite his nap, exhaustion still weighed on him.  “I’m unsure of how that would result in this particular effect.” Ford sighed.  “Well, you can leave, Stanley.  I’ll handle things here on my own.”

              “No,” Stan said shortly.  Ford rolled his eyes.

              “I’m an adult, I can take care of my-”

              “You’re not an adult, Sixer,” Stan snapped.  Ford recoiled from him, surprised by the sudden venom.  Tense energy rolled off Stan in waves.  He pinched the bridge of his nose.  “You- Do you even realize what all this means? Until whatever happened to you gets fixed or wears off, you’re eight fucking years old.  You can’t drive.  You can’t reach things that are five feet high.  You can’t-”  Stan set his jaw grimly.  “I’ll leave the second you’re back to normal.  In the meantime, though, I’m gonna stay here, whether you want me to or not. We mighta been on the rocks lately, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let my brother get picked up by Child Services or accidentally kill himself by falling when he tried to grab something out of reach.”

              “I…”  Ford wasn’t sure whether it was the exhaustion or the abrupt reveal of how vulnerable he now was, but he found himself cowed by Stan’s words.  He ducked his head.  “…I suppose that’s…reasonable.”

              “Damn straight it’s reasonable,” Stan muttered under his breath.  Ford’s stomach rumbled.  “You hungry?”

              “I’ll be fine.”

              “You’ll be- the hell kinda answer is that?  You’re a kid now.  Kids have to eat.”  Ford was silent.  “C’mon, I’ll make you somethin’.”  Stan squinted at the clock on the wall.  “It’s ten, looks like.  I’ll make you brunch.”

              “That would be quite the feat, given that there isn’t any food in the house,” Ford mumbled.  Stan let out a long sigh.  Ford glanced at him.  Stan’s shoulders were slumped as though he carried a weight on them.  “…What?”

              “Ford, you’re...”  Stan chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment.  “Okay.  You were barely functioning as an adult.  As a kid, you look like you might keel over any second.”

              “And?”

              “And that’s bad, Poindexter!  I’ll-” Stan shook his head.  “We obviously have a lot left to talk about, like who the fuck Bill is, but before we do, we’re going to the store.”  Ford’s blood ran cold.

              “You know about Bill?”

              “You only mentioned him a million times right after you got turned into a kid,” Stan said.  “But you didn’t explain who he was or why you were so scared of him.”  A note of concern entered Stan’s voice.  “You passed out pretty fast.”  Ford looked away.

              “It’s a long story,” he said faintly.

              “Then it can definitely wait,” Stan said.  Ford’s stomach rumbled again.  “Put your shoes on.  We’ll take my car.”

----- 

              Stan wasn’t sure how old you had to be in order to ride in the passenger seat, but he decided to let Ford sit where he wanted.  He’d never really cared about the rules of the road anyways.

              But whenever I was being chased by cops before, the only person that’d deal with it would be me.  Stan glanced at Ford, who was staring out the window, mumbling to himself.  If I got pulled over now, who knows what they’d do with Ford.  A tight sensation bloomed in his chest as he pictured Ford getting led away by Child Services, handed off to a foster family that would never believe this boy with a million freckles and big eyes was actually an adult.

              “Turn here,” Ford said abruptly.  He was acting as Stan’s map, since Stan didn’t know where anything was in Gravity Falls.  Stan did as he was told.  “It should be on the-”

              “I see it,” Stan said.  It was difficult not to notice the strip mall with its vast parking lot.  Stan pulled into a parking space and turned off the car. Ford reached for the door handle. “Ford.”  Ford paused.  “Just so you know, we’re gonna steal most of the stuff we get today.”  Ford whipped his head around to stare at Stan.  “I don’t have any money.”

              “Why didn’t you tell me before we left?” Ford demanded.  “I could have-”

              “Do you have any money?” Stan asked.  Ford fell silent.  “Look, you don’t have to worry about it too much.  I’ll handle it.  I’ve got a lot of practice.”  Ford’s eyes widened in surprise.  Stan resisted the urge to look away.  “Just thought I’d let you know in advance,” he mumbled.  After a moment, Ford nodded.

              “I appreciate that.”

              “No problem.”  Stan took a breath.  “Let’s head inside.”  He got out of the car, then waited for Ford to follow suit.  At some point during the drive, it had started snowing.  Ford walked over to him, hugging his arms to his chest in an attempt to stay warm.  Without a word, Stan shrugged off his dingy, dirty jacket and draped it over Ford’s shoulders.  The jacket came down nearly to Ford’s knees, but at least he stopped shivering.

              As they trudged through the slushy parking lot, Stan couldn’t help but think back to the initial moment Ford had been turned into a kid.  He’d expected that overwhelmed, childish reaction to be the case again once Ford awoke, but Ford seemed like himself. Stan glanced at Ford out of the corner of his eye.  His round, youthful face was beginning to turn pink from the cold.

              Well, mostly like himself.  Stan looked ahead again.  Why doesn’t he remember getting turned into a kid?  He didn’t remember the lightning and he sure as hell doesn’t remember having a breakdown in front of me last night.  If he did, he’d be acting a lot more awkward.  Ford let out a small squeak as he caught his shoe on something and fell forward.  Stan’s arms shot out instinctively to catch him before he hit the ground.  Ford promptly shook him off.

              “I’m fine, Stanley.”  Ford pulled Stan’s jacket closer to his body.  “As fine as I can be, given the circumstances.”  Stan just nodded silently.  The rest of the walk to the mall was uneventful.  Once they walked inside, Ford promptly took off Stan’s jacket and handed it to him.  Ford then set off with purpose.

              “Whoa, hey!”  Stan caught up with Ford, which only took a few strides, and put a hand on his shoulder. Ford froze.  “You can’t just run off like that.”

              “I was going to the food court.  I thought the plan was to get food.”

              “It was.  It is. I just…”  Stan ran a hand through his hair.  “Let me know where you’re going if you’re gonna wander off somewhere, okay?”  Ford looked down at his feet, abashed.

              “Okay.”

              “Okay,” Stan parroted.  He donned his jacket.  “You know where the food court is?”  Ford nodded. “Lead the way.”

              Going through the lines at the food court was easy enough.  Ford had immediately gravitated towards the kiosk that sold specialty ice cream.  Looking at the flavors, Stan found himself wanting some as well, but he only had enough money for something cheap, so he reluctantly dragged Ford over to the sandwich place.  The whining coming from Ford as a result turned a few heads and elicited a few chuckles from people who likely had experience telling children no to sweets. The two of them finally sat down at a table to eat their sandwiches.

              There weren’t any children Ford’s current age in the mall, something that Stan didn’t realize until he was approached by a woman with a sleeping baby in a stroller.

              “Excuse me, sir?” the woman said.  Stan looked up from his sandwich.  Ford ignored the stranger and continued to pick at his own meal.

              “Uh, yeah?” Stan asked.

              “Maybe it’s none of my business, but I think it’s rather odd that your son isn’t in school.”  Ford froze. “It is Tuesday, after all.  And my own son, Charlie, his winter break ended last week.”  The woman’s eyes bore into Stan.  Stan’s habitual lying kicked in.  He raised an eyebrow at the woman.

              “You’re right,” he said coolly.  “It is none of your business.”  The woman’s mouth dropped open.  Before she could gather herself enough to continue prying, Stan spoke again. “But if you must know, my son and I are visiting relatives.  His winter break is still going on.”  The woman took a step back.

              “…Oh.  I didn’t realize-”

              “Yeah.”  Stan glanced at his watch, pretending to check the time.  “Ford, we have to go.  You can eat your food as we walk.”  He got up and held out his hand.  Ford stared at it for a second like he wasn’t sure what to do.  Stan shook his hand.  Ford glowered but grabbed the outstretched hand obediently.  He and Stan walked away, avoiding eye contact with the strange woman.  Once officially out of the food court, Ford let go of Stan’s hand like it was red hot. He turned on Stan.

              “What the hell was that, Stanley?” Ford snarled.  Stan looked around.  They were alone.

              “I had to tell her something,” Stan hissed.

              “What about when I’m back to normal?  People will ask you about your son.”

              “I won’t be in town anymore,” Stan pointed out.  Ford blinked, like he’d forgotten Stan intended on leaving once this problem had been resolved.  The moment of shock passed.  Ford shook his head.

              “The fact remains, you didn’t need to claim I was your son.  You couldn’t have said I was your nephew? Maybe your cousin?  Or tell the truth, that I’m your brother?”

              “There’s about twenty years difference between us right now.  No one would believe we’re brothers.”

              “Still!”

              “The best way to lie is to go along with people’s assumptions,” Stan said. “Let them think they’re right.” Ford crossed his arms, visibly furious. “If you’re that peeved about it, we can always tell other people that you’re my nephew.”

              “Wouldn’t contradicting your first lie with a second one make that second lie weaker?”

              “Yes.”

              “Then…”  Ford’s mouth puckered like he had just sucked on a particularly sour lemon.  “I suppose I’m your son for now.”  He pointed at Stan angrily.  “But I want it on the record that I’m pissed about this.”

              “Yeah, I figured that much out,” Stan said.  “By the way, you’re damn lucky no one else is around to hear you swearing up a storm.”

              “Why?”

              “Kids aren’t supposed to cuss, Poindexter.  If I’m gonna pretend to be a regular dad to a regular kid, I’ll have to tell you off for swearing in public.”  Ford’s expression somehow grew even more sour.  “Y’know, if you make that face for too long, it’ll get stuck like that.”  Bemusement splashed onto Ford’s face.

              “What?”

              “You don’t remember Mom telling us that?  Well, I guess she mostly said it to me,” Stan said absently.  Ford huffed impatiently.

              “We don’t have time for this, Stanley.  We have to return home so that I can tell you about Bill.”  A shadow crossed Ford’s face.  The bright lights of the mall somehow seemed a bit darker.

              “…Right.  The good news though, is that we’re gonna be stealing everything else.  And if you wanna pull off a heist properly, you can’t dawdle.  So it won’t take too long.”  Stan began to head toward the children’s clothes store they’d passed on the way to the food court.

              “Stealing,” Ford muttered under his breath, following.  “If I was actually your child, you’d be encouraging me to be a thief.”

              “It’s an art form that’s dying out,” Stan said firmly.  “Nothin’ wrong with teaching it to the next generation.”

              Ford rolled his eyes.

----- 

              Ford bounded out of the car and made a beeline for the front door, planning on making his way inside before he would be roped into helping to carry things.

              “Ford.”

              Dammit.  Ford turned around.

              “Yes?”

              “All this shit is yours,” Stan said gesturing to the clothes in the back seat. “You need to help bring it in.” Ford scowled.  “C’mon.”  Ford reluctantly went back to the car.  He held out his arms and allowed Stan to fill them with items.  “You know, glaring at me all the time isn’t how you’re gonna get your way.  You’ve got those big brown eyes.  Use ‘em.”

              “What?” Ford asked, blindsided.  Stan snorted.  He put another shirt on the pile of clothes Ford was carrying.

              “You haven’t looked at your reflection yet, have you?”

              “…No.”

              “Hang on.”  Stan got into the back seat and began to dig around the cushions.  Ford sighed impatiently.

              “Is this really-” he started.  Stan emerged, holding something shiny.

              “Here,” Stan said, holding the object up.  It was a metal flask.  “Take a look at yourself.”  Ford rolled his eyes but decided to have a cursory glance.  He intended on looking briefly.  At the sight of his reflection, though, he paused.  Wild curls surrounded his objectively cute face, chubby with baby fat.  Freckles were splashed across his cheeks, but Stan was right that his eyes were the standout feature.  Even hidden behind glasses, his eyes were wide and innocent-looking, framed by thick eyelashes.  Ford’s mouth dropped open.  The boy in the reflection did the same.

              I’m…adorable.  I’m adorable? I’m adorable.

              “I’m…”

              “Cute as a button,” Stan said with a soft chuckle.  Ford was too shocked by his youthful appearance to scowl at his brother.  “See what I mean?  If you make puppy dog eyes, no one could say no to you.”

              “What about you?”

              “What about me?” Stan asked, tossing the flask back in the car.

              “Would you be able to say no to this face?”  Ford widened his eyes plaintively.  Stan frowned thoughtfully.

              “Yes,” he said after a moment.  Ford pouted.  “But if you practice, someday I might not be able to.”  Stan closed the car door.  “Let’s go inside and put all this crap away.  Then we can talk about that thing in the basement and Bill.”  A chill ran down Ford’s spine at the sound of Bill’s name.

              “Actually, maybe we should talk first,” Ford said softly.  Stan looked at him, visibly concerned by Ford’s tone.

              “Yeah?”

              “Yes.”  A cloud passed overhead, blocking the sun.  Panic swelled in Ford’s chest.  A hand rested on his shoulder, making him jump.

              “Ford?” Stan asked gently.  Ford could feel himself shaking.  The lighthearted mood of only a moment ago had been banished by the specter of Bill hanging over him.

              Why do I keep forgetting about Bill?  For that matter, why didn’t Bill possess me when I fell asleep?  Unless he has some sort of long con planned. Ford’s knees knocked together.

              “Ford?”

              What is he planning?  Hasn’t he tortured me enough?  No, of course he hasn’t.  He’ll never be satisfied.

              “Ford!”

              And now that I’m a child, I’ll be a much easier target.  I can’t protect myself at all.  What if he goes after Stanley?  Or uses me to go after Stanley?  We aren’t exactly best of friends anymore, but I don’t want him to be in Bill’s crosshairs.

              “Stanford!”  Someone was shaking him.  Ford broke free of his panicked thoughts.  Stan crouched in front of him, fear and worry warring on his face.  Ford stared at him.  “Talk to me, buddy.”

              “Don’t call me buddy,” Ford mumbled weakly.

              “What the hell just happened?” Stan asked.  Ford looked down at the clothes in his arms.  “Did it have something to do with Bill?”  After a moment, Ford nodded.  “We’ll talk now, then.”  Stan scooped the clothes from Ford’s arms.  “I’ll carry these, you just head inside.”

              “Okay,” Ford said softly.  With Stan close behind him, Ford made his way to the front door.  Just before stepping inside, he glanced back at the forest.  Branches undulated in the wind.  Even now, in the middle of the day, there was a darkness in the trees.  One that could host any sort of terror within.  Another chill ran down Ford’s spine.

              What did Mom call that feeling?  Oh, right.  Ford swallowed.  Someone walking over your grave.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 164: Life or Death Battle

Previously on BnHA: The internship kids returned to the dorms and were greeted by their worried pals. Iida hemmed and hawed. Momo made some tea. Satou shoved an entire cake into Deku’s mouth. Ochako realized she wanted to save people in addition to earning money to ease her parents’ poverty. Sero and Kirishima showered Kirishima with affectionate concern. Bakugou quietly chilled on the couch pretending not to be worried. Kaminari slid over and called him “Kacchan” like the homeboy he is. It was all amazing. The next morning, Bakugou and Todoroki headed off to their provisional license course. All Might and Present Mic showed up to chaperone them, and we learned from All Might that Kurogiri was indeed captured by Gran Torino and Naomasa, but Giganto escaped after dealing some heavy damage. The group arrived at the training course location, and everyone’s windy fave Yoarashi greeted them along with Camie (the real one!) and fucking Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs (Seiji). Also Endeavor was there to watch. And he’s going to have a private chat with All Might. Should be lots of fun, this.

Today on BnHA: Our best boys Bakugou, Shouto and Inasa (and Camie) begin the day’s training course. Endeavor cheers Shouto on from the stands and everyone is like “...” but then they notice All Might sitting next to him and they’re like “OH FUCK YEAH, ALL MIGHT.” Gang Orca walks out onto the floor, compares all of the kids to fish feces, and fucking yeets my three faves across the room. He then informs them that they lack heart, and thus he is assigning them a special trial. Enter a group of about 25 screaming elementary schoolers, plus their harried teacher who is constantly on the verge of tears. Baku, Shouto, Camie and Inasa are told that they’ll be in charge of them, and that to pass this test they’ll need to cooperate and move the children’s hearts. This is, of course, a recipe for perfect chaos, and to make things even more entertaining, Mic decides to do play-by-play commentary. Meanwhile, a surprisingly subdued Endeavor asks All Might exactly what it means to be “the Symbol of Peace.”

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 187 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.) 

looks like the kids have changed into their hero costumes and are trudging towards wherever the course will be taking place

aww Inasa is aggressively trying to be friends

LIGHTEN UP GRUMPY GRUMP

also I’m kind of with Inasa on this one. sorry Shouto. I’ve only had cold soba noodles like once but I wasn’t that big a fan. but udon is the shit though

Shouto apparently feels very strongly about this

I honestly can’t tell if he’s just really particular about his food, or if he feels like Inasa is trying to sneak up a metaphor on him and he’s like NOPE, NOT HAPPENING. THIS ZARU SOBA IS NOT GIVING UDON THE TIME OF DAY

oh my god Inasa is literally saying “WE’RE GONNA BECOME BEST BUDS WHETHER YOU LIKE OR NOT”

did you hear that Shouto. WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT

that means it’s happening. because like. look at him. this big fluffy airbending teddy bear is not going to not let it happen

meanwhile Bakugou is watching and being creeped out. by their attempts at friendship? or something else?

MERAAAAAAAA

I’ve been having a bit of an insomniac phase myself. so I feel ya bro

also they’re in this gym that, surprisingly, actually looks like a normal gym?? although there’s a bunch of playground equipment in one corner which is odd

Mera says that so far they’ve been doing the training course with the ten of them, but today there will be an eleventh person joining them

so is that Camie then?

meanwhile All Might and Mic are entering the spectator area and looking for someplace to sit

Mic wants to sit near the front to see better, but All Might doesn’t want to stand out

well he is pretty famous. and not to mention that Endeavor’s still right there as well and I don’t know if they’ve had their chat yet orz

oh jesus

yep. wouldn’t want to distract anyone. definitely not looking to do that, nope

starting to see why Shouto was angsting so much over that text

so Endeavor is actually screaming encouragement at him, but in his obnoxious Endeavor way

I feel like. he’s actually trying. oddly enough. but he’s just. so terrible. in so many ways

oh snap I forgot all about this

yep. the guy that wouldn’t autograph your book and subsequently changed the course of your life by causing you to withdraw your application from U.A.

oh shit now All Might’s getting recognized too

I hope they cheer the fuck out of All Might and it’s like, who even fucking cares about Endeavor

:D

hee

that’s Bakugou’s dad, you know. ever since chapter 120. and Deku’s dad too, obviously. Shouto he can be your dad too if you want. plenty of All Might to go around, and it’s not like your old man is doing such a bang up job

Shouto is literally saying “hmph” and even Bakugou is staring at him like “what’s this guy’s problem”

Mera’s telling everyone to calm down and pay attention to him again lol

and now real!Camie is properly introducing herself

ahhhh

so that’s the cover story Shiketsu came up with? or is that a story they’re telling the other kids? or does Camie herself genuinely believe this and no one actually knows she was briefly abducted and replaced by Toga?

and um. just to make sure. this is the real Camie though... right?

she’s acting differently enough that I think it is

Seiji is sitting with a Shiketsu teacher in the stands and they’re discussing it!

he says she’s “a complete and utter fool” and the teacher is gently correcting him and saying she’s “just bubbly”

so they did figure it out!

Seiji seems to actually be beating himself up for not realizing that she’d been replaced

(ETA: yeah, so rereading this, I’m getting some definite shipping pings from them now. Seiji’s clearly guilt-stricken about what happened to her, and clearly worried about her still. he didn’t attend any of the previous training sessions, based on Bakugou’s reaction, but he came along to this one now solely because Camie was going. he’s not going to let anything happen to her again. Seiji is, in fact, just a big ol’ softie you guys.)

the teacher is saying they need to make up for the absence of the Symbol of Peace immediately

I guess with this being the first time Shiketsu has been targeted, they’re finally realizing how serious this is too. U.A.’s been mixed up in this for a while, so they already know

heyyyyyy!

LOOK WHO’S BACK

he’s talking some shit about them, oooh

I assume he’s purposely trying to rile them up for whatever reason. probably because at least several of them are only here in the first place because of their poor anger management

everyone is instantly sobering up

lol Seiji

lmao

wow Gang is really laying it into them

ben·thos /’benTHäs/ (noun): the flora and fauna found on the bottom, or in the bottom sediments, of a sea, lake, or other body of water

did you just call my son a sea sponge. did you just compare them to fish poop

...

his feet

he just. flung him

is it weird that I really want to make this into an icon

...

is the whole rest of the chapter going to be like this

THERE IS NO RIGHT ANSWER HUH

this is now my favorite chapter in the history of time. also this is one instance where I’m already sure it’s impossible for the manga to be outdone by the anime. because how could it be. visually this is flawless

oh wait? is that it? just those three? no one else needs extra guidance?

so they’ve already singled out these three in particular as being the ones with the most potential, huh. sorry, Rest of the Kids

he’s chewing out Bakugou for his behavior toward the rescuees, and the other two for their whole starting-a-ridiculous-fight-in-the-middle-of-a-disaster-rescue-scenario

he says the thing they lack most is “heart”, and that they can’t expect to be heroes without it

“do you think that everyone will willingly grasp your hand when you offer it to them?!” oooh I like that. basically these idiots need to learn to be more approachable

“survive this life or death battle” lol oh shit

based on the tone of this chapter so far, I can’t help but wonder if this is going to end up being something comedically tame after all of this dramatic buildup

oh my god. suddenly I’m thinking back to that playground equipment. don’t tell me...

OH MY GOD

TODDLERS

holy shit. I count at least 24 of these tykes. and it looks like at least some of them have already manifested their quirks too oh shit

oh my god

Katsuki please don’t murder the small muppet child. I believe in you. babysit the shit out of these brats. you can do it

why do I suddenly have the feeling that maybe the elementary school just needed a substitute really last-minute and so this somehow ended up happening

now the big bird kid who called the grenades lame is running away crying

Bakugou is being chewed out by the other children and desperately trying to do some crisis management that consists of yelling at the kid to “STOP CRYING DAMMIT”

who the fuck is this

does Monoma have a younger brother we don’t know about

meanwhile three other children have cornered Shouto and are grabbing something on his utility belt and shouting “IT’S A PEEPEE” repeatedly

on the plus side, I can already sense Endeavor’s fight or flight instincts kicking in, and with any luck he’ll be out of there before we even get started

Shouto is patiently explaining that the thing on his belt is not, in fact, a peepee

this approach is not really working out for him

meanwhile still more children have surrounded Inasa and are just. punching him. for absolutely no reason

but Inasa is just taking it, and looking up at Endeavor and thinking “I won’t become like him.” awww

and yet this is not really working out either

you know, I wouldn’t have expected this to be the case, but so far Bakugou is actually managing the best here

Camie’s there too, and she’s asking if she’s supposed to be part of this training as well and what’s up with that

Gang says she’s a special case since she didn’t participate in the real test

she’s exasperated, but says that she likes kids anyway so whatever

and there’s a panel that we’re just going to skip riiiiight on past, thank you very much

suffice to say, the female kindergartners are now ganging up on Camie out of jealousy that their popular male classmate appears to like her

also, forget what I said before about Bakugou faring the best so far

little Billy, that is not a toy. please put down the grenade

these kids make flashback!baby!Kacchan look like a perfect little angel. at least he was cute

Gang somehow has faith in them though

you guys. if Kacchan somehow manages to bond with a bunch of snot-nosed little brats and become their mama I will lose my shit. please please please

(ETA: arguably this is exactly what happened. what a fine arc)

the rest of the class is meanwhile being shuttled along to have some boring lecture

lol Bakugou is despairing loudly

THIS IS THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YOU NEED, BUSTER. YOU SIT THERE AND YOU TAKE IT

and seriously though, wasn’t he always the leader of his little pack of brats even as a child? can’t he just somehow tap into that little brat energy and take command of this group of kids as well? he does have a weird sort of charisma, and always has. and he’s shown patience and leadership in the past at unexpected times. I really think he can do this if he just puts his mind to it

All Might, Mic, and Endeav are sitting in the spectator section in silence

Endeav and Mic are dotting up a storm lmao

oh my

ARE YOU GOING TO PROVIDE COMMENTARY

-- HE IS OMG

he says an event without commentary has no soul

brother I’m right there with ya. why do you think I even do this. we should go get kicked out of a movie theater together

All Might’s asking if they really need “soul”, and FUCKING DUH THEY DO, ALL MIGHT

oh shit he’s commandeered Mera’s microphone

I can’t believe this man is the fucking U.A. traitor. maybe. admittedly seeming less likely by the minute

anyways, now that Mic is gone, All Might is figuring he might as well get this awkward conversation over with

he says that he doesn’t really know what to say to Endeavor in his current state

Endeav is asking if All Might’s aware that over the past month the crime rate has risen by three percent

hmm. someone sucks at his current job of being number one, huh

oh no

is Endeavor

having character development

...

motherfuc...

shit

okay look. one, dude is basically a rapist, albeit in a manner that’s just barely society-approved. two, he beat his wife and child. and three, he then had his wife committed when she had a breakdown and never bothered to do anything to try to help her (and also, you know, he’s the one who caused said breakdown in the first place)

so just a reminder. that Endeavor. not a nice guy

...but. it’s a story. and if a character actually shows a desire and willingness to try and change... well. I’m not necessarily just going to dismiss it out of hand

but this motherfucker needs to show some remorse, though. otherwise, fuck that

so whatever, Endeavor. let’s see. I have a feeling this is going to be a long, arduous process, and it might not even pan out. but it’s interesting, at the very least. and so in that sense, I’m here for it. hell, I welcome it. after all, we sure as hell didn’t get too much complex character development in the previous arc, Nighteye aside. so this... this is good

BONUS:

lmaoooooo @ “likes beer” oh god. no salary in the world would ever be enough to compensate teachers for everything that they do and all the shit they have to put up with

the fact that she’s a newbie is apparent just at a glance. give her a year or two under her belt and I bet you anything her personality completely changes. teaching is basically baptism by fire. but she will eventually learn to improvise, adapt, and overcome. and she’ll probably be a lot more drunk too lmao

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

More of the Misadventures of Aish rereading Misadventures and fixing typos, like a cowardly fool because I can’t sleep

chapters 21-25 oh no here we go

(actually I did this in like November on my phone but only just now remembered that I never posted it so here ya go, this is all weeks old)

Okay so with the chapter titles, I didn’t actually start naming them until about ch27 or so, but I had already nicknamed this chapter something like “IT’S FRIENDSHIP YOU COWARDS” bc this one got a surprising amount of notes on tumblr and I’m 99% sure most of the people who read it did not realize that this is in fact a Kimax fic

And also THIS CHAPTER WAS THE TURNING POINT. I could either have kept the fic rly lighthearted until way near the end, or decide to start shoving in the Angst much quicker. 3 guesses what I picked >:D

Oh highkey same Alix?? except for me it’s not superpowers or anything it’s just called “anxiety disorder”

The obliviousness physically pains me

I’m the guard who just blatantly lets Alix steal popcorn. also why was there just casually popcorn there. god I don’t even know what I was thinking when I wrote any of this

Oh yeah I remember!! I was mad at people setting off the smoke alarm while making popcorn in the middle of the night!! just uni things am I right

...why am I noticing now that the whole popcorn thing is just a metaphor for Kim’s entire love life I am going to throw this fic out of the window I swear

IT REALLY IS, UGH I HATE THIS, ARE YOU TELLING ME I DID THAT BY ACCIDENT

this is a freaking game of Civilization where one civ takes a runaway lead in the science victory while the rest are all still stuck in the industrial era

Kim is me watching dinosaur movies too tbh, dinosaurs are so frickin rad

well this is depressing

and adorable

I hate so much that I know what the Bad Dream means I hate it I hate it I h

IT’S OKAY KIM I’M PROUD OF YOU, YOU’RE MY SON AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

“It’s not up to you to question why people care about you so just roll with it” damn past me, that’s actually some really good advice???

Alix is a Kimax shipper even this early in the fic, btw. whenever she talks to them about each other she’ll always say stuff like “oh yeah you two are so close” or “he cares about you so much” without specifying whether she means that platonically... my dudes... she’s shipping it

Kim having an existential crisis in early hours of the morning is such a mood because it’s 2am and I’m having one right now

BAD FORESHADOWING, YES BAD THINGS ARE GOING TO START HAPPENING SOON LIKE ASSASSINATIONS AND STUFF, YOU WEREN’T WRONG

Alright chapter 22 now

the carriage guards!! my favourite characters in the entire fic!!!!!! they’re the BEST okay they just casually chill at school through the entire thing and only show up again in the last chapter omg they’re so amazing I love them??? absolute LEDGES

Kim’s parents being all like “yeah if our son doesn’t wanna come home from school then just KIDNAP HIM and bring him back lmao”

“Hey, do you want me to threaten your guards with my snake or something?” WAS THAT FORESHADOWING??? BECAUSE SHE VERY MUCH DOES DO THAT LATER. TO DIFFERENT GUARDS YES BUT IT’S LEGIT A THING SHE DOES

talking on the phone is stressful? yes it’s that good old “anxiety disorder” again, really a pain tbh

god I’m so proud of Kim, already that good good character development

also Kim’s grandma is me

omg I have to put Kim and Alix’s dumb chess games in the sequel, I came up with an entire thing about how they blatantly cheat etc and it’s ridiculous and Max gets a headache whenever he has to “referee” (aka make sure they don’t fight), it’s so great okay

me: *thinks about chapter 34 and throws up*

oh I’m the snake too btw. the snake also will hate chapter 34

Max holy moly repressing your feelings isn’t healthy??? stop that

hhhhhhh chapter Lila now, like literally that’s the entire chapter 23, it’s basically just Lila

this is just the damn Volpina episode

dupainchien!!!!! dupainchien!!!!!!!!!

I know this isn’t even that much of a big deal in this fic but like... can Marinette and Adrien just get together already lmao

hskdjhdkjfhgs for the record Lila and Kim is actually a pretty good ship?? but they’d both try to out-brag each other and it would be ridiculous so uh

hm anyways. time for CHAPTER AROACE

Kim’s like. ABOUT TO start falling for Max oh thank god, I need this

Lila: *just stabs Kim’s homework with a parasol*

Kim just... Did That??? WE STAN

(oh and later note: in this he just treats Lila like how Adrien treated her in Chameleon lol)

I remember at this point I wasn’t sure if Lila would actually really return in the fic, and then literally like 2 chapters later I brought her back already because damn that girl needs a redemption arc

do I hug Kim or do I hug Max?? you FOOLS, you ABSOLUTE BUFFOONS, I am going to hug ALIX for having to deal with all their romo bullshit

Max trying to get drunk on orange juice is the mood

JULEKA’S MAGICAL GAYDAR!!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!

(also Juleka is absolutely wearing a Reflekta dress)

Juleka, outright: “Max. my dude. alix is aroace you dense idiot. you are all idiots. you absolute fuckwits.”

I’m still the snake btw

hhhhhhhhhh I wanna make a daisy chain now, or just go outside and sprawl in some grass, I can’t because it’s 2.30am and I live in the city and it’s winter, screw this fic for making me miss my school days

oh no I’m having an allergic reaction again

I mEAN IT’S CUTE THO, IT’S CUTE, BUT I KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN A BIT LATER SO THIS IS JUST PAINFUL

“You need more sleep” me calling myself out

I am going to hit Kim over the head,,

STOP BEING WEIRD JUST TELL HER YOU LIKE HER?? GOOD GOD I DON’T EVEN SHIP IT AND I STILL WANT YOU TO GET A BLOODY MOVE ON

oh good, he wants to smack himself in the face too

no nonono no Alix I think you are cute too. but you see, I mean it in the adopting way. but you ARE objectively adorable (source: the Reverser episode and also like all the other episodes) people just don’t say it in this au because of your TERRIFYING PET SNAKE

she offered to give him a telephone... lov that foreshadowing

*unimpressed* “are you in love with me?” OH FUCKING FINALLY

skdfhskdjfhsd avoiding people and having a heart attack when someone knocks on your door? I see the return of that anxiety disorder eh

Alix didn’t bring the snake (me) with her on purpose bc she knows Kim is still a bit scared of it at this point and doesn’t want him to be in a bad mood while she’s crushing his heart and soul

GOD YES I LOVE THIS SCENE

I hate myself because when I was writing this I was thinking “oh mood?? oh mood worm same hat???” and yet still. didn’t. realize. I’m. aro. *le sigh*

I’m gonna cry this is so sweet

“So are bossy, intimidating, hot girls your type?” no actually because Ondine is neither bossy nor intimidating (tho yeah she is hot) (and not particularly relevant in this fic unfortunately)

Alix is not in fact as oblivious as she claims to be btw, she just thinks it would sound mean to say “oh yeah I guessed you had a thing for me but I aggressively ignored it bc it annoyed me since I’m aroace lmao”

I’m genuinely going to hecking cry omg I remember now why this was my Ultimate Brotp for so long ugh it’s so good, @ ZAG LET KIM AND ALIX BE FRIENDS

I’m laughing?? so hard??? at the fact that their height difference is so ridiculous that literally like he has to kneel down??? god this is the funniest thing

oh also btw she was internally debating with herself like “should I give him the mistletoe kiss?? sounds gross but I feel so bad for him dammit” and decided to right there on the spot because she was lowkey curious anyway, which I’ll be honest is still an aro mood

OMG I’M ACCIDENTALLY SUCH A GENIUS OMG LISTEN NO LEMME EXPLAIN

SO LIKE. there are two (2) instances in this fic where I tried to pretend to be funny by dropping in the word “heartrate”. one is near the beginning, and the other is right here

in other words, the exact start and end points of Kim’s crush on Alix?? AND I DID THAT BY ACCIDENT OMG I’VE CHANGED MY MIND I’M PROUD OF MYSELF NOW

oh... oh no. uh oh. the dreaded evil Chapter Twenty Hecking Five

it’s called “Pain” for a reason. also my OG nickname for it was “Death”. also for a reason.

I even listened to Death Valley (the FOB song) on repeat while writing it (along with the next like 9 chapters lol) because the word DEATH just seemed so accurate

no really this is THE real turning point in the fic, where it stops being just a dumb teen movie and starts being all A N G S T Y

like this is the first chapter that has NO lightheartedness AT ALL

okay. here we go

this is all??? foreshadowing??? for dumb chapters like 30 and 34??? I Hate

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO THE SNAKE

I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK JUST READING THESE WORDS THIS IS SO HORRIFYING ALEXA PLAY DEATH VALLEY

this is the equivalent of seeing a kwami die, for the record. like I know kwamis can’t die but THIS IS HOW IT WOULD FEEL

god this is even worse in hindsight knowing what happens later, bc poor Alix is all like @ herself “oh well it’s a nightmare so it’s not real” and I’m just like... oh dear. honey. sweetie. welp. I mean on the bright side you’re psychic so that’s kinda cool right

I love how Jalil is actually really sweet and a genuinely cool brother, you just never get to see it when Kim’s around bc he hates Kim lmao (I mean for good reasons..)

“I can’t live without this snake!” I MEAN YOU’RE NOT WRONG

these timeline powers are SO cursed man. why was I so evil and cruel holy actual shit

(the whole “some character deaths but not really” tag refers to all this clusterfuck btw)

okay it’s funny how this bit with Adrien is the Collector episode despite it not having aired yet when I wrote this, I guess I’m psychic too

Nathalie being sympathetic huh? not so much in the sequel when I get round to it...

Adrikins being all “I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER” I’m dying

uh yeah there’s a difference between being grounded, and like, literal actual house arrest

damn... capitalism really is bad

so is imperialism

fix this damn typo thing where I used the word “soon” twice in one sentence like was that really necessary

DUPAINCHIEN

I love how Kim is so obviously bi that even Marinette notices and straight-up tries to set him up with a hot commoner boy

oh noes here comes The Death

Hi Aish Snekwami, I am afraid

god imagine how horrible it must be??? to have something traumatic happen in another timeline but you’re still aware of it in this one so you still suffer the effects even though nothing bad happened in this timeline????

Max shows up for two seconds this chapter to remind everyone that I have an anxiety disorder again and then hecks off, good for him

HOLY FUCK?!?!?! IMAGINE LITERALLY DYING ACTUAL DEATH IN ANOTHER TIMELINE AND EVEN THOUGH YOU SURVIVE IN THIS ONE YOU STILL HAVE TO LIKE. FEEL THE WHOLE TIME YOU’RE DYING OF GODDAMN COBRA VENOM HOLY FUCK WHY DID I MAKE THIS SO ANGSTY

I mean I think I remember writing this when I was on a very heavy painful period which full-on incapacitated me but like even that’s nowhere near as bad as fucking. snake. bite (ye I did some research, it was creepy...)

man this is so evil... I can’t

THIS IS HOW IT FEELS TO DIE

god that’s so haunting ughhhhhhhhh

honestly whenever I stub my toe etc I always think to myself “is this karma for that time I lowkey killed Alix off in chapter 25?” and yeah, it probably is

OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH FOR NOW

[reddragdiva]

I was beat up by left anarchists in Greece.

I don't usually use forums or Reddit, I usually just post comments on Ancap blogs like Molyneux or Cantwell's blog, but they didn't seem appropriate places to post my story. So here goes, I just wanted to share this with all of you.

Nov 3 I flew to Europe for a Eurotrip type tour. Not a guide or packaged deal, just going around by myself. I paid for half of the trip with the wages I earned over the last two years, my dad paid for the other half. I am 19, I guess that is normal starting college and all. (Before that I worked for my dad's company part time, so I guess you could say he paid for all of it, lol).

I did France and then Italy and then Greece next. I am an Ancap so I wanted to see anarchists in these places. Yes, I know they are different kinds of "anarchists" and not really full anarchists like us. I went to an anarchist book store in Italy and it had a lot of English books, but no Rothbard or Ancap. Like I said, I expected that, not a surprise.

I went to Greece, which everyone knows is famous for its revolutionary anarchism, its economic crisis and everything going on right now. Here I found directions for a local anarchist center. I went and didn't see anybody, but it was covered in graffiti, mostly in Greek so I couldn't read it. Whatever, I started taking pictures. Then some people came out and confronted me.

This should have been my first warning sign something was not right, because photography is not a crime. They were not violent, but they were not friendly, like asking who I was, what I wanted. They all spoke good English actually. Not uncommon in Greece. I said I was a tourist and an anarchist and I just wanted to take pictures. Then they got friendly and told me I should have asked first (but pictures are no NAP violation so I don't know why, but I didn't say anything) and they invited me inside.

We hung out for a while and smoked hash (there is no good dank in Europe as you might find out like in Cali, everyone smokes hash with tobacco which isn't as cool as it sounds). We started talking about politics and anarchism. I was trying to talk about the state, they were like yeah no doubt the state was bad. But they wanted to talk about capitalism, capitalism this and that. This is when we started to get into a debate.

I told them that what they called capitalism is different from the free market. They said capitalism is free markets. And I said I agreed. That is what I am saying. Real capitalism is free markets. And they said yes, that is what we are trying to get rid of. And I said no, but we don't even have that right now. We need more free markets. And everyone at the same time was like "nooo" we are anarchists, we are against capitalism. Anarchists oppose capitalism.

And I said but not anarcho-capitalists. Anarcho-capitalists are the anarchists who support capitalism. I had a fanny pack (yeah, lame I know) for my camera and in that I had this yellow and black bowtie (also super lame, it was a joke but I wasnt wearing it). And I said look, these are the Ancap colors, yellow and black, like versus the communist red and black. Well, these guys had a lot of red and black in the building already so I thought they would get it.

I think that is when it started to get a really bad vibe, really tense in the air. The free market thing was funny, we disagreed but I think they thought I was just confused. Everyone was uncomfortable now. Then someone said markets wont work with democracy. And I said exactly, that's it, democracy is against anarchism. And they kind of agreed, and said yes, we don't have real democracy, just governments, and we needed more democracy. I said no, we need less democracy, democracy is the enemy. And we need to end democracy to have anarchy. Then they were all like "noooo" again. You know that thing people do in groups when everyone all says "nooo" or expresses some disapproval at the same time.

And one of them said "but we do want to stop democracy" and then they kind of spoke back and forth in Greek. I didn't really understand it. And they asked me what I meant.

So I said okay, I had the floor, I was going to tell them about ancapism. And I tried to explain to them some Rothbard and Hoppe. I said the natural order in anarchy is that the best rise to the top, the market picks who is the best. They compete and are peaceful. They said what do we want instead of anarchy. I said we want private owners to own their own land and businesses, and to employ people. They said that is what we have now. I said no, it would be even better. One of the guys said it was like feudalism. And I said it is not feudalism.

Eventually one of the guys spoke up and I thought he was Greek, but he spoke English perfectly so he may have not been. He said he knew what anarcho-capitalism was and that we were basically fascists. He asked me if I thought everything should be private. And I said yes. And he asked me if I thought people were unequal. And I told him yes. And that not everyone would have equal rights. I said everyone has the right to own property and not be done aggression against. But that not everyone had to be treated equally by the owners. He said what about immigrants and racism. And I said that would not happen in a free market, but yes property owners could be racist if they wanted to. They had to respect property.

Then he called me a fascist again, and someone else said I was a fascist. And then they basically all started shouting fascist at me, and one of them grabbed me by the wrists. They pulled me out the door, it was up three floors, and basically drug me down the stairs on my back. It hurt really bad and I remember yelling "you're breaking the NAP" and things like that. "Stop initiating force against me." Then they kicked me around on the ground in the hallway, before they took my camera and threw me outside. I was crying and stuff, I just sat there. I was in shock because it was so sudden. Looking back there were warning signs though.

I think they felt bad for me and gave the camera back, but when I looked later they stole the memory card with all of my Greek photos.

So they initiated force and theft. They broke the NAP. I knew the left anarchists were not real anarchists, but I never knew they would do something that bad.

I wasnt seriously hurt, just kicked around a little, lots of bruises and little cuts. I am fine guys so don't worry. Just needed to share.

known in buttcoin circles as greece.txt, the above post to reddit /r/anarcho_capitalism on 26 november 2015 is one of the finest slabs of text ever put to keyboard, and you should reread it every now and then and giggle

[deathishauntedbyhumans]

Torrential Downpour

HHHHHHHHHhhhhhh this is such a fucking ride I just reread it because it’s been sitting saved in my drafts and I think I’m gonna cry holy FUCK. 

Keith has an emotional breakdown in the rain and Lance has to keep him from running away from... everything. (There’s a lot of angry-lashing-out-violence in this, so please don’t click the read more if that ain’t your cuppa tea! Stay safe my lovelies; be kind to yourselves!)

Stranger: [Modern Day College Roommates AU] Dude, why the fuck am I locked out? K

You: I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's because you forgot your key. L

Stranger: But why are you not here to let me in like always? I depend on you for this man! K

You: Look, I have better things to do than wait around whenever you leave your key in your sock drawer. I have a life, bro. L I'm busy. Studying. You know, that thing that normal people that aren't you have to do in order to actually pass their classes? L

Stranger: ...Forget it. I'll come back later around lunch. Just. Give my key to Pidge or something because I'm sure you'll be with them. Or Allura. K

You: I don't know what time I'll be back. Maybe next time you won't forget your stupid key. L

Stranger: Maybe you don't have to fucking worry about it anymore then! Sorry to be such a burden. K

You: Oh, no. You don't get to play the victim here, buddy. You do this all the time, and then you act like it's MY FAULT for actually trying to give a shit about myself for once in my damn life. We can't all be """star students""" like you, man. Some of us actually have to TRY so that we don't get kicked out of here. And it doesn't help that my schedule has to revolve around someone that can barely even give me the time of day whenever we're in the same room. L

Stranger: [Delayed] I broke into the room. Paying to get the door fixed. Got what I needed and left, that's all you need to know. I'm not playing this game anymore, Lance. And if you have to know, I thought I found my mom last night. I was wrong. Again. Guess I'm not a star at everything. So I'm not playing some fucking victim card, don't worry. I'm moving the fuck out and dropping out. K

You: [delayed] Fuck, Keith. I didn't know. L What happened, man? L Don't ignore me. I know you're reading this. L Keith, you can't just run away. What the fuck happened? L

Stranger: It's not running. It's.. briskly moving away from problems. K God do you always have to spam text me whenever you get worried? K You don't actually care what happened. You just feel like shit now. Don't worry, no hard feelings. So don't fucking bother. K

You: Who says I don't care? I do care, man. You're my roommate. Hell, you're one of my best friends. Just because we're dicks to each other doesn't mean I don't care. L Talk to me, man. Because I know you're not going to talk to anyone else. If you have it your way, you're probably just planning on disappearing. At least unload before you do, dude. L

Stranger: I don't have anything to say anymore, McClain. I've said it all over and over. And I just keep running into fucking brick wall after brick wall. K I'm only human. I can only go like this for so long. And best friends? Good one, Lance. Really. I'm only kept around the group out of pity and we both know it. Who cares if I disappear? I'll just keep following leads. K

You: And you'll end up killing yourself in the process. I know you're pissed off and frustrated and god, you have every right to be, but you can't just run off. We care about you, man. All of us. I don't know where you got the idea that we keep you around because we pity you, because that's bullshit. Plain and simple. You're a good guy, Keith. So you've got baggage. We've all got baggage. L Where are you right now? L And before you brush that off, I'm going to come and find you, and you're going to punch me a couple of times, and yell at me, and you'll feel better, and you might be able to think about this without wanting to run away. L

Stranger: I always want to run, Lance! I want this to all fucking stop for once in my goddamn life! Nothing ever stays! No one ever stays because no matter what you say I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH! K [Delayed] If I leave first, you can't. K

You: One of us will find you. I'll get all of them looking. Pidge will drop what they're doing in a heartbeat. So will Hunk. So will Allura. There's no way you can just disappear from our lives, Keith. L I won't let you. Because no matter what YOU think, you ARE good enough. But we can't stay if you don't give us a chance. L

Stranger: Why do you care so much? K The rest of them, they're good people. Not that you aren't, but- K If anyone would understand the need to run, I thought it would be you. K

You: I do understand it. And that's why I'm so against it. L Do you remember the first time you walked in on me getting high? I thought you were going to be pissed, but you just stayed in the room all night even though I KNEW you had plans with Pidge, and you talked to me and you made sure that I didn't do anything stupid? L Because you understood it. This is like that. Even if you yell at me to just leave you alone, because I know I wasn't quiet about it... We don't always get along, but we've both got a lot of shit that no one else seems to get. Except US, man. L

Stranger: I wouldn't ever leave you alone through that shit, Lance. God damn, I don't even know what you remember from that night. K You cried. I fucking let you cuddle into my lap. You're /taller/ than me, you asshole. K I.. I can't, I can't do any of this anymore man. I fucking can't. It HURTS like hell. Worse than Hell. K

You: I know, dude. I know. Believe me when I say I get it. L Tell me where you are. Please? L

Stranger: The bridge, where you found me that one time when we found out some more about my dad. K It's raining, make sure you wear my jacket over your pathetic one, and grab an umbrella. I don't need you getting sick. K

You: Dude, you're in the middle of a crisis. You don't have to mother me. L I'll be there in a few. L

Stranger: Of course I have to mother you. You were about to fucking leave without either of them, weren't you? K I care about you, even if I punch you sometimes. K

You: You don't know what I was going to leave with. L I care about you too, even when you punch me. L So take some deep breaths and try not to suck up too much rain. L

Stranger: Hey, at least I can still look badass in the rain and not like a drowned rat, which you would. K And you were going to leave with my key, forget yours, and fucking RUN down here in that thin piece of shit you call a hoodie. K

You: My hoodie is a gift to mankind, thank you very much. And I have both sets of keys, so who's laughing now? L [delay] Okay, are you like, under the bridge? Or is it just raining too much for me to see you? L

Stranger: "Boo." Keith grinned, gunmetal eyes glinting in the moonlight, almost seeming to shimmer with a bit of gold to them. "But hey, at least you listened to me, McClain. I see my jacket and the umbrella. Though, I do fill it out better than you." Keith tried to stay light hearted, the smile on his face as fake as the ones he gave to everyone in their group each day. He was thankful for the rain however; hiding tears that managed to slip through even as he stared at his best friend. Oh who was he kidding? His best friend? More like the only person he ever let himself get close enough to that he ended up falling in love with Lance.

You: Lance jumped at the sound of a voice from behind him, and he spun rapidly to come face to face with Keith. He knew him well enough to spot that fake smile a mile away, and he wasn't fooled by that or the faux-light tone of his voice for a second. "Dude, it's raining, and you didn't even bother to bring your jacket to run away with," he stated, sounding unimpressed. "An umbrella and a leather jacket? Really, Kogane?" He arched his eyebrows, but the expression fell away seconds later to reveal one heavy with concern, and he reached out to rest a hand lightly on his shoulder. "But seriously, Keith... You can't just run away. Feel free to punch me if you want to, but I'm not going to just stand aside on this one."

Stranger: Keith let out a deep breath, his smile slipping slowly from his face as he met stormy blue eyes, knowing that Lance could no doubt tell the difference between each tear and each raindrop as they rolled down his cheeks. "I'm tired, Lance." Keith admitted, voice dropping an octave as he said it, betraying his exhaustion, looking much older than his nineteen years. "If I run away, I can just start over. Again. Maybe I could finally convince myself to stop looking for them." Keith whispered this last part, a thought he'd been having for a while now, even though he knew they were out there. "They don't want me. No one ever has."

You: Before Lance could consider the consequences of his actions, before his brain could catch up with what he was doing --which happened too fucking often for him to even attempt to be surprised anymore-- he had tugged Keith forward and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. He knew better than anyone that sometimes, sometimes you just needed to be held for a while. If Keith pushed him away, punched him... that was fine, too. One way or another, he'd get it out of his system, Lance figured to himself. "That's not true," he said quietly, vehemently, putting meaning behind every word. "I can't speak for them, but I can speak for me, and our friends, and man... You're /loved/, here." He swallowed hard, but continued speaking. Keith /needed/ to hear this, needed to at least have the words out in the open so he could try and comprehend them. "Pidge, and Hunk, and /everyone/, and-- and me, man. We want you here. Running away is one thing, but thinking that no one wants you is a whole 'nother can of worms." There was nothing he could say that would fix what had been broken. Lance knew that. But he also needed to say what he had to say, needed Keith to hear it. He could only hope that his words would get through.

Stranger: "You always try to have the last goddamn word, don't you?" Keith asked with a broken laugh as he hid his face against Lance's warm neck, the skin slick from the rain around them, silently cursing the other man for dropping the umbrella just to hug him. "I just break everything and fuck it all up. It's like, like I'm a ticking time bomb and I don't know what's gonna happen in the end." Keith sighed heavily, his fingers curling into the leather of his own jacket as he clung to Lance like a lifeline, like a man in love. "And I'm scared, Lance. I'm scared as hell of all of this. Staying somewhere? Staying /here/? With people who think they know me? I'm some hot headed pretty boy, who doesn't have to try for anything. They've all said their own nasty thoughts before."

You: A shiver went through him, then, both at the cold rain suddenly slicing its way against any exposed skin, and at the contrast of Keith's warm breath against his neck. He tightened his arms around the other man, though, as soon as he was sure that Keith wasn't going to try and push him away. "We all say nasty things about each other. It's how we show our affection. Like when I tell Hunk he smells, or when Allura tells me that I'll 'never get a date with any sentient being'." He pitched his voice higher and added a terrible accent, to mimic Allura's lilting tone, and dropped it again as he let his chin rest against Keith's wet hair. "We're all terrible to each other because we love each other. And yeah, Hunk does stink sometimes, and yeah, I'll probably never get a date the way I flirt with Allura--" Because he wasn't being /serious/ when he flirted with Allura, obviously. He could get a date if he wanted to. Any date. Right. Anyways. "And yeah, you somehow manage to ace your tests without doing all the studying we have to. But it doesn't mean we don't want you around. It just means... that we love you. And that we're all terrible people," he added, huffing out a breath. "You're not a time bomb, dude. You're just a person who's got some fucked up shit going on. Same as any of us, really."

Stranger: "Allura can go to hell." Keith honest to god snarled, yanking himself out of Lance's tightened grip, his chest aching in the most familiar way. "Forget it. You know what, you shouldn't have come here, McClain." Keith snapped at the brunet, knowing his complete change in attitude was normal, but that this time, it would utterly confuse Lance. And he had no idea what reaction he would get this time. He couldn't help the comment about Allura, hating the teasing honestly. He would /kill/ for a chance with Lance. The ridiculous, clumsy, incredibly gorgeous, smart, asshole in front of him. He moved to grab a black duffel bag he'd left by the railing, slinging it over his shoulder. "Keep the jacket. Be smart and wear it. I'm not staying, Lance. I'm a person with fucked up shit going on who is gonna run away from it all again. I'm a coward. Let's keep it that way."

You: He should have been expecting it. In fact, Lance wasn't sure why he'd /stopped/ expecting it, or why he felt so fucking /hurt/ when Keith stumbled out of his embrace and away from him entirely. He supposed he'd thought that he was making some sort of progress or something. /Idiot./ "Then I'm going with you," he said, seriously, more seriously than he'd ever felt in his fucking life. If Keith was going to do this, he wasn't going to get away so easily. Lance would --and he was realising it now, the severity of how much he /cared/ about Keith-- go the the ends of the Earth for him, quite literally. If Keith was running, Lance was going to follow him. He followed Keith towards the railing, stood beside him as he shouldered his bag. "I'm serious, Keith. I'm not going back if you're not." He crossed his arms over his chest, his voice low, though he was afraid the effect was going to be ruined by the rivulets of rain dripping off of his nose and chin.

Stranger: Keith scoffed, smile looking feral in the flashes of lightning that started to light up the sky, the storm seeming to get almost as angry as the desperate look in Lance's matching eyes. "You really think I'll let you go anywhere with me? I don't /need/ you. Why would I let some asshole tag along with me, huh? Some guy who doesn't even have the time to let me into the fucking apartment because I forgot my house key." Keith knew he was being unfair, he was being angry, thunder rumbling behind his words like a lion's violent roar. "I don't need you, Lance." Keith hissed again, hoping to a God he couldn't believe in that Lance couldn't see Keith's heart breaking as each word left his lips.

You: Lance tried to breathe deeply, to go to the place in his head that he went to whenever anyone got like this. Because this... this was what he was good at. When someone was angry, they spewed some vitriol at him and he let them and then they went back to normal after it. Lance knew what it was like to let the anger talk, and at the time it happened, he knew how good it felt. So he let it happen, and his response was measured, mild, especially in comparison to the storm picking up around them, the wind whipping the rain into both of their faces. "Maybe you don't. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to follow you," he stated, gaze locked on Keith's, challenging him to match his words with blows, to keep going, to let the worst of it out. "You might not need some asshole tagging along, Kogane, but I don't need your /permission/, to be an asshole or otherwise."

Stranger: The sound of the thunder covered both Keith's bag hitting the ground and his fist connecting with Lance's face, the tears coming faster now, hot on his pale- much too pale, these days- skin. It felt so good to feel something for the first time in weeks, when he'd really started to go downhill without letting Lance know. He'd been so fucking /numb/, and the anger felt right, even though the actions weren't. "Get the fuck away from me, you fucking prick! Why won't you leave?!" He screamed over the storm, punctuating the end of his question with another strike to Lance's stomach, wanting to someone to hurt like he did.

You: Keith's fist connected with his face before Lance had time to even try to defend himself, even though he probably wouldn't have if he'd been given the chance. This wasn't the first time they'd come to blows. It was the first time in a while, but it wasn't the first time. He reeled back from the hit, stumbling but not falling, his arms windmilling for a second as he tried to keep his balance. He hardly had time to look up before the second hit landed, and he doubled over, coughing as the wind was knocked out of him. He knew if he lifted his hands, they'd be shaking, but he also knew he wasn't about to fight back, so it was a moot point. "Because I /don't want to/," he ground out amidst gasps of air as he attempted to regain some form of composure. "And I'm /not going to/, so you might as well keep hitting me!" He tried to straighten up and winced, doubling back over and coughing again. He doubted anything was broken, but Keith had... definitely not held back.

Stranger: "Hit. Me. Back!" Keith bit back, the world almost seeming to shake as he looked at Lance in the flashes of lightning, the young man's oceanic eyes filled with determination even as his supposed best friend pushed him hard enough to knock him down. "Why won't you fucking fight me?!" Keith was raging, something he hadn't done in a long time, but it was almost a mockery of that exact time, that exact fight; him moving to straddle Lance and pull his fist back, shaking violently as he cried, not letting himself make contact. Not this time. "Just leave. /Please/, Lance." He begged quietly, letting his hand fall to the other man's chest, grabbing the jacket tightly as his eyes closed.

You: This time, Lance stumbled and fell backwards, going down hard and making a sound of pain that was swallowed by the thunder. The storm was right on top of them, now, he noted absently as he blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what was going on, where Keith was, and-- Oh, Keith was right on top of him, too. He flinched despite himself as Keith pulled his fist back, but when the hit never came, he looked up, up into Keith's face, into his eyes. Not even the torrential downpour could hide the fact that he was crying; his eyes were red-rimmed, as was his nose. Even slightly dazed as he was from the fall, Lance could see as much, and he brought a hand up slowly to cup Keith's cheek as his eyes closed and his hand fell down to his chest. "I'm not leaving," he said firmly, reiterating what he'd said after the first and second hits had connected. He blinked again, pushing rainwater out of his eyes, pushing... pushing tears out of his eyes, because apparently, he was crying as well. He hadn't even realised. "I'm not going to leave you."

Stranger: Keith couldn't help but push his face into Lance's hot touch, almost too hot under the torrential downpour of rain, feeling like pinpricks of ice against his skin. They'd both be miserably sick at this rate, out in the autumn rain like this; though he'd still be up and taking care of Lance until he got the guy back on his feet. Keith was nothing when Lance was down. Whether with a cold, a stupid broken arm, anything. It was almost like having a soulmate. One who was utterly clueless about everything. "You should. I'm like- I'm like fire. I'm just an explosion of anger and frustration. I burn down everything in my path and nothing puts me out." Keith let slip from his chapped lips, finally blinking open his eyes, the rain stinging them before he moved over Lance a bit more to shield the taller of the two from the rain as best as he could.

You: Lance's head still felt a little fuzzy from the fall, but he was positive that he wasn't imagining it as Keith shifted above him, as he put his head in the way of the rain pouring down onto his face. He blinked a couple more times, took a shuddering breath, but didn't drop his hand from Keith's cheek. He hadn't missed the way that he'd damn near nuzzled into the contact, and despite the earlier reaction to Lance hugging him, it was his first instinct to do so again. So he did, because he rarely had any self control when he wasn't feeling out of it, and at the moment, any and all control was more than a little shot. Worst came to worst, he would get hit again. Big deal. He reached up with his other hand and wrapped his arm around Keith's back, tugging him down with more force than he'd originally intended until he'd fallen down against his chest. He made a little "oomph" sound, but it didn't stop him from wrapping both arms around Keith again tightly. "You haven't burned everything in your path, and you're not going to. I'm still here, aren't I?" he pointed out, speaking quietly, almost directly into Keith's ear to be heard over the near-constant rumbling of the thunder above them.

Stranger: "I'm just going to hurt you. Some best friend I am." Keith replied just as quietly as Lance did, a small grunt having left him when he'd been tugged down, but letting it happen easily. The fight had drained out of him, like Lance was the ocean he saw in the taller boy's eyes, and he'd washed over Keith enough to put the fire out. For now. "You remind me of the ocean. Of the storm." Keith mumbled to himself mostly, knowing that Lance could hear him, understood more than Keith really thought he did. "You just wash over me, drag me under, keep putting out the flames and pulling me back to you. I could be gone right now." Keith sighed, letting his eyes close and his weight settle more evenly on top of Lance, moving a hand under Lance's head to keep it off the concrete.

You: A soft, appreciative sound hummed its way from somewhere in the back of Lance's throat as Keith lifted his head and placed a hand under it. His own eyes had fallen shut mere moments after the weight of the other man had settled comfortably on top of him, and he let the words wash over him, felt them cleansing him far better than the rain could ever even dream of doing. Because hearing that, hearing the words from Keith's mouth that he helped, that he was the thing keeping him there, that wanting him was /working/... It was so much more than he'd expected Keith to say. "It might be easier if you let me, you know," he said softly. "If you let me be the ocean, instead of fighting it. I want... I want to be the ocean for you. I want you to stay. Because I'm here, and... man, I know how it is to be overwhelmed, and I want to help, and it would be easier for both of us if you'd /let me/." Fighting the current only hurt both of them, in the end. Because Lance knew that Keith would beat himself up for this later, for being angry, for the punches he'd landed that would leave dark bruises against Lance's skin. He wished that he wouldn't. Lance knew what he was doing. He knew what he was doing every time he goaded Keith into fighting with him, physically or verbally. And he didn't mind, didn't care. The marks on his skin were nothing compared to the hurt Keith felt. He /knew/ that. He just wished Keith would see it his way, too.

Stranger: "If you're the ocean, I'm an underwater volcano." Keith decided, fingers curling gently into damp brown hair, almost a soft mahogany when the sunlight hit it just right. "Erupting at the most inconvenient times for the ocean, disrupting the currents, tearing apart everything in my path." Keith continued with his thought, knowing his next action would surprise Lance the most, so he was desperate to keep the blue eyed boy distracted. His free hand moved as he talked, reaching for Lance's arm to move it into a better position, lacing their fingers together. An action he'd never done before. "You're going to bruise. You're going to bruise and you're going to get sick and it's my fault because I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore." Keith revealed to Lance, knowing he was letting out more than he ever had before. "I don't know how to let someone help, Lance." The way his lips moved and his tongue curled around that name, as precious as the person it belonged to. "I want to let you in, god. I want so many things. Things I can't have. I don't deserve any of it."

You: Lance felt his breath catch as Keith's fingers brushed his own and then slowly --as if he were testing the waters-- carefully curled around and through his own. Oh. /Oh./ Keith was holding his hand. Keith was /holding his hand/ holy shit and oh he was still talking and Lance really needed to pay attention to what he was saying and not to the sudden clicking of /several/ things in his head and-- Listening. He was listening. He was listening to what Keith was saying. But... what Keith was saying was sad and painful to hear and Lance couldn't even tell if it was safer in his own head or in the real world, so he opened his mouth and let himself talk because that was what he /did/. He /talked/ and rambled and when things happened he never held anything in and it was terrible and ridiculous and the exact opposite of Keith's entire being but he did it anyways because he'd always done it. "You deserve the world, Keith. If I could give it to you, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat, man. I would do it so fast... I don't /care/ if I bruise. The bruises are just... blood. They're just my skin bitching about how it doesn't like the blood inside of it. Bruises are just bruises. And if I get sick, it just means I get to sleep more. Which is fine. I like sleeping. Sleeping is good. I don't ever get enough sleep. And I know you don't either. I wish you would sleep, though. You spend too much time worrying. I know you're up all night, even when I do manage to sleep. I always see the light on and a part of me just wants to go and turn it off and tell you to go to sleep because you need it and I worry because you don't get enough." He stopped talking long enough to take a deep breath, to tighten his fingers around Keith's, because /Jesus/ he was doing a lot of talking and Keith's hand felt /good/ in his own and he couldn't seem to make himself shut up. "I want you to be okay, Keith, and I know that it's not going to just happen, and that you have so many things to heal from and so much to think about and I /get/ it but I want you to be okay because I /care/ about you and maybe it's a dumb, selfish reason to want someone to be okay, but... I also want you to be okay because you're /you/ and you /deserve/ it and I know you don't believe me but you /do/, and-- and--" And he couldn't even ramble anymore, because there was so /much/ he wanted to say and not enough words in his vocabulary to shove everything out into the stormy air between them.

Stranger: Maybe the kiss should have been expected, but damn, Keith had finally found the perfect way to finally shut up that gorgeous mouth that just couldn't stop some days. As far as first kisses went, it definitely wasn't the best, but it was perfect for him. It was cold, lips chapped from the biting wind, slick from the icy rain. But it was /Lance/. "You always forget to breathe, ya know." Keith replied tentatively, keeping his eyes shut, because if there was rejection in those stormy blue eyes, well, Keith wouldn't be skipping out on the town, he'd be skipping out on the god damn country. And wasn't that a shame? Here he was, still planning to leave even when he was about to promise Lance that he wouldn't. One of those nights, soon, when Lance was too tired to keep up with him. He'd be a goner, and maybe he'd finally catch his breath. "You need to stop worrying about me so much, McClain. Start worrying about yourself. Stop getting me to hit you just because you know it makes me feel better, because it makes me feel worse in the long run. No one should have to deal with that, least of all you." His breath hitched as he felt Lance tighten his hand around Keith's, causing him to let out a slightly strangled laugh. "I'm not going to be okay, Lance. Not for a while, if ever, and you don't deserve that. You don't deserve /me/ hurting you. You don't /deserve/ to worry over me when I can't sleep because I'm having fucking pathetic nightmares and all I can do is stare at you, because you're so goddamn /beautiful/. I don't /deserve/ to want you." He held the tears back this time, his stoic shell slowly coming back, knowing he should get off the ground, get off of Lance and let go of his hand. Hide all of this behind them like they had with other things in the past, but damn it, for once he was the one who wouldn't stop talking. And he just didn't want to let go of that hand in his, so /warm/, like a fucking beacon of light in the sheets of rain. "We should.. we should go back."

You: Forget to breathe? Lance was pretty sure he'd forgotten what breathing /was/, as he stared up at Keith with a mixture of shock and joy and wonderment warring with each other on his face and in his eyes. Keith had just... Keith had just kissed him, Keith had /kissed him/ and Lance couldn't think couldn't breathe couldn't /move/ because Keith wasn't looking at him, was acting like he couldn't bear to look at him. And then he was talking, and Lance couldn't stop staring at his lips as he spoke, those lips that had been covering his own only moments before, and he heard the words in a part of his head that felt disconnected from the rest of him, because most of him was still in shock, because /oh/ Keith had /kissed/ him and /oh/ maybe there were a lot of things that should have made it obvious that this was where they were heading and /oh/ everything was rushing into his head at the same time and he /understood/ so many things and he mostly just wanted to kiss Keith again because holy /shit/ that had been so unexpected and nice and-- Listening. There was a part of his brain still listening. "In a minute," he said, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears, and he wondered if it sounded strange to Keith, too, or if the fall had messed with him more than he'd thought. But he continued anyways, ignoring the note of awe that he hadn't been able to stifle from his tone. He slid the hand that had been curled lightly against the small of Keith's back up to the back of his neck, keeping him there, keeping him from pulling away too soon. He /couldn't let him go/, not without at least trying to respond to him. "You deserve the /world/. I wasn't kidding when I said that. I mean it. You deserve the goddamn world, Keith." He stared up at him, hoping that Keith would /look at him/, because he /hadn't/ yet. "You deserve the world. You deserve to be okay. And--" Keep it together, Lance, keep it together. "And if you want me, then you /deserve to want me/, because damn it, if I can do anything to make you anything close to happy, then I've done something right in my fucking life." He swallowed hard. His throat hurt, either from the crying or the cold. He couldn't tell; he didn't really care. "I want you to be happy, because I /care/ about you. Look at me, damn it!" A deep, shuddering breath blew through his lips, and then he was tugging Keith down with the hand on the back of his neck and Keith's lips were on his again and he didn't /care/ that the sweatshirt he was wearing underneath Keith's jacket was soaked, didn't /care/ that he was lying on the cold ground in the middle of a storm. Because holyshitholyshit he was kissing Keith and doing it properly this time and all he could think was /Yes/.

Stranger: There were lips on his, lips that belonged to one Lance McClain, lips that he didn't think he would ever feel. They were kissing properly this time, still a little slick, but hot from their breath, and a little less chaste with Keith's teeth sinking into Lance's bottom lip to tease him, but /no/. Now wasn't the time for that, to even /think/ that. They were laying on the wet concrete in a fucking /storm/ for God's sake. He had to get Lance to let go, to let him up, no matter that every part of him screamed /NO/ as he slowly pulled away. He let grey blue eyes slide open and finally looked at Lance, breath hitching harshly and making him want to start sobbing as he looked at the awe on that beautiful face. High cheekbones flushed with cold and with the kiss, their fingers still laced together, and dark blue eyes practically shining. /No/ Keith. You'll be leaving him, so you can't keep falling in love. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking /sorry/." Keith managed to force past his constricted throat, apologizing for more than just the bruises, the storm, the concrete. Apologizing for the duffel bag that was going to stay packed without Lance's knowledge. Apologizing for the bus ticket he was going to buy for a week from then. Apologizing for letting someone in /finally/ only to abandon them. Just like his own goddamn parents did to /him/. And he knew so much could be read on his face, in his eyes. It's why he always looked away when fighting with Lance. The guy read him like a goddamn /book/ when they fought if Keith so much as glanced at him. "We need to go, Lance. I don't want you to get seriously sick." Keith said firmly, letting his shields come down completely as he pulled his fingers from Lance's, his world turning grey and bleak the moment he lost that one spot of perfection, of warmth, and finally stood. "We can talk more when we're- when we're feeling better." Keith lied through his teeth as he glanced away, never having been so thankful for how easily he could lie before.

You: A whine sounded in Lance's throat as Keith pulled away just after nipping at his lower lip, and he found himself panting, staring up at Keith because how /could/ he possibly want to pull away? But his features were shut off, were closed off from him, and Lance could feel himself responding despite himself, could feel tears forming in his eyes because oh /god/ he'd probably fucked up and it wouldn't have been the first time and-- He concentrated on trying to force himself not to cry, not to let the tears fall, and failed miserably even with his best efforts. /Fuck/. At least Keith had stood up, had looked away from him, and the rain had taken to falling on his face again. If Keith couldn't see him crying, he couldn't prove anything, and Lance could... Lance could just. Apologise for being an idiot and hide and tell himself that everything was alright when in reality, everything had just put itself together and then shattered apart, into a million tiny pieces. And Lance /hated/ himself for even going down that train of thought, because this was /Keith's/ moment and he was getting emotional, was honing in on everything and making it about himself, and he /knew/ it was fucked up in a hundred different ways but it didn't stop him from feeling too much regardless. He sat up slowly without responding verbally, to either the apology or the promise to talk about it, and didn't have any problem until he tried to stand. He swayed as soon as he was on his feet, and he shut his eyes tightly against the dull rush of pain in his head. Oh. That didn't feel very good. He could feel tears slipping through his closed eyes as he tried to keep his balance without opening them, and he hoped desperately that Keith wasn't looking at him, because he was certain that he looked fucking ridiculous, like some sort of drunk idiot. Just some asshole. He was trying to suck in air without sobbing, and probably failing, if the way his chest was aching was any indication. And he was pretty sure he'd never hated himself more than he did in that moment.

Stranger: "Lance. Lance /please/. Why are you crying?" Keith practically begged as he moved to support the slightly taller boy, using one arm to put it under Lance's shoulders and help him stand up straight without risk of falling, his other hand going to wipe away those way too /hot/ tears. /Hot/ like his anger every time. He'd fucked up /again/ in less than five minutes. "Lance, talk to me sweetheart. I know, I'm a fuck up, but don't cry." Keith forced out, the endearment slipping out without his knowledge or permission, /wanting/ so much, and /knowing/ he couldn't have it at all.

You: Now Lance was the one leaning into the hand on his face, letting Keith wipe at his face even though it was a futile effort in the rain. He was grateful for the arm around him, even as he hated himself for needing it. If he could stop feeling dizzy long enough to stand on his own two feet... And then Keith was talking to him, and his voice was desperate and he called him /sweetheart/ and he wasn't shouting anymore because the thunder wasn't a consistent rumble and the lightning was no longer cracking through the sky directly above them and he opened his eyes because he /had/ to see what Keith looked like and... "I'm an idiot and my head hurts and you still take care of me even when you're dying inside and /damn you/, that shouldn't be how it works and /fuck you/ I want to kiss you again you called me sweetheart oh my god I think I'm going to die and /fuck/ I'm still talking why the fuck am I still talking?" He bit down hard on his lower lip to stop himself, forcing himself to breathe through his nose, to focus on something other than the warmth of Keith supporting him at his side.

Stranger: "Don't you do that. Don't you fucking shut yourself up, Lance McClain. That's my job now." Keith growled, moving in front of Lance in a quick movement, hating himself almost violently for the bruises he could already see blooming on Lance's face, especially on his cheek. His stomach was no doubt even worse. "I'm always taking care of you, it's.. you're the one good thing I have, Lance. /Don't/ take that away from me. Let /me/ take care of /you/." Keith wanted to beg, but he was better than that, keeping his harsh exterior but still letting his love for Lance show through. He couldn't help himself, he was utterly in love with the mess in front of him, and he wanted to jump off this goddamn bridge for the fact that he planned to leave the one good thing he had. But it was necessary. Lance would understand, with time.

You: "You're taking it away from yourself!" Lance cried out, frustration and self-hatred and confusion boiling in him to the point where he shouted the words without even thinking about it. He wasn't thinking at all, or if he was, then every thought that went through his head was pouring out of his mouth. "You won't even let yourself /have/ me because you're so fucking scared that-- that-- that you're going to hurt me, or lose me, or whatever you think! It's so fucking /confusing/ because you're telling me that you want... that you want /me/ and you're acting like you want me but I can /see/ you, Keith, I /know/ you a whole lot better than you think I do, and I can /see/ that you're not happy with it, that you're just waiting for the moment I look away, and I don't /understand what I did wrong/!"

Stranger: "Lance, I--" He hadn't had a clue that Lance felt that way at all, that Lance could see the fact that Keith was planning to leave the moment Lance turned his back. And the young man blamed /himself/?! "What the fuck, McClain!? This isn't your fault. Not a god damn part of this is your fault. If anything, /you/ are the only reason I stayed around this long." Keith admitted, moving back just enough to be tempted to hit Lance again. Keith didn't want to leave without Lance, god he'd take Lance with him in a heartbeat, but Lance had a life here. Lance had /friends/, and a proper fucking /family/. Keith was some orphan that got fucking adopted by Lance's friend group. He didn't /belong/. But for once in his pathetic life, Keith /wanted/. "I'm fucking /in love with you/!"

You: The revelation shouldn't have taken Lance's breath away, shouldn't have unbalanced him as much as it did. He should have been at least /vaguely/ aware of Keith's feelings, given that he'd fucking /kissed/ him a few minutes before. But holy shit, between Lance's possible head injury and the vehemence of the confession, he was at a proper loss. He couldn't breathe all over again, could only stare at Keith with his mouth opening and closing like a fucking fish out of water. And then he found himself sinking to the ground again, not quite falling, but sitting fast enough to make him wonder how much control he'd actually had over the move. He dropped his face into his hands for a moment, just trying to... trying to regain enough of himself to /speak/ like a goddamn person. When he looked up again, there was a look of hopelessness on his face, because he certainly felt like he was going to get nowhere, regardless of whatever he tried to say. "Have you ever even considered the fact that it's not just you?" he asked, and his voice sounded funny again, breathless and gaspy and desperate. He stared up at Keith, trying to order his thoughts, to make himself /think/, because his brain didn't seem to want to /work/.

Stranger: Keith sat down in front of Lance, slower and a bit more in control, sitting close enough that his legs were overlapping Lance's. "Lance, don't look at me like that, /please/. I'm trying here, I'm trying to- to do /something/ right. I don't want to be the reason you /break/. I don't want to fuck this up. But I also don't want to give up on something that could be the best thing in my goddamn /life/ just because it might also be hard." Keith forced himself to say, forced himself to stop thinking about a bus ticket away, forced himself to think about doing laundry with Lance laughing by his side when he /inevitably/ fucked it up somehow. Putting up all the clothes in that bag next to Lance's clothing in /their/ closet. "I want a life of my own. But when I say that, I mean I want a life with /you/. And oh god, I'm rambling which is usually your job, and I sound like I'm fucking /proposing/ and I don't even know if I am. But /forever/ with /you/?! God. I /want/ that. So fucking get your brain in working order and give me something I can /understand/, because I'm having thoughts of /staying/." Keith informed him, meaning every single word, every thought.

You: "I--" Lance was still staring at Keith, still trying to order his thoughts, because holy shit holy shitholyshit how was he supposed to think with Keith baring his soul to him like this? No, he needed to think. Keith was asking him to, and he was right. Lance needed to get his thoughts together, get /himself/ together so they could figure this out. He glanced down, down at where Keith's legs were pressed against his own, and reached out, slowly settling a hand against one of Keith's shins and staring at it as though he didn't even realise he'd done it. "You have no /idea/ how much I want you," he finally said, speaking slowly, forcing himself to think /before/ he spoke instead of after. He was choosing his words carefully, and it showed on his face, as he furrowed his brow deeply. "I don't even think /I/ have a full idea of how much I want you. To /have that/ with you. You think... You think that you're going to break me, but... Keith, you and I are both already pretty damn broken. But I feel /better/ when I'm with you. Even when we're bickering about something stupid, or when you get better grades than me... I wouldn't trade any of that for anything else in the entire world. You can't break something that's already broken, and I don't even think it's possible for you to, because you make me feel /fixed/. I'm fucked up, but I'm less fucked up when we're fucked up together." He finally, slowly let his gaze trail back up to Keith's face, meeting his gaze because it was what felt /right/. "I want you," he finished with, plain and simple, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at Keith, as Keith looked back at him. "I want you to stay. I want /you./"

Stranger: "Okay. Okay. We can do this, /together/. I want you and you want me and we're in love and we can do this." Keith said firmly, taking both of Lance's hands with his this time, lacing their fingers together just like he had that first time. "And yeah, okay it's a little soon to propose, but no one else has ever managed to make the fire in me go out or at least cool down like you do. So just know that somewhere down the line, I swear to god McClain, I won't be able to call you that anymore. I'm staying with you. /Staying/. And we'll be a little less broken, a little less /fucked/ up together. Even when we fight and you have to chase me to the edge of fucking town. We're gonna fucking do this together." Keith decided firmly, not noticing that the rain had completely stopped, the world a silent grey around them, the only color in his world being that oceanic blue of Lance's eyes locked on the gunmetal blue of Keith's.

You: Lance found himself leaning forward, until his forehead bumped gently against Keith's, until he could barely see Keith's beautiful, beautiful eyes because of their proximity. He couldn't help himself; Keith was so full of /life/ and /passion/ and Lance honestly didn't understand how other people couldn't see that, how anyone could have left this incredible kid when he obviously had so much to give, so much love to offer. Whoever his parents had been, if Keith ever did find them, Lance was going to give them a swift kick in the behind for ever daring to cause Keith so much strife in his life, for leaving him when they should have stayed for every second of his childhood. He held tightly to Keith's hands, revelling in the /rightness/ of their palms pressing together, of their fingers interwoven with one another's. "We can do this," he repeated firmly, matching Keith's tone. "We can do it together. We /will/ do it together."

Stranger: Keith stood slowly, guiding Lance to his feet along with him, separating one of their hands so he could fall into place right next to Lance. Right where he belonged. "Now, how about we get home, get out of our wet clothing, probably take hot showers, get some soup, and some goddamn sleep? I vote we push the beds together." Keith mused, guilt still seeping into his voice as he grabbed his bag, glancing at Lance to see that much too vibrant bruise, his knuckles aching with the not so old memory already.

You: Nodding in agreement, Lance allowed Keith to help him up, pleased when he didn't pull his hand away this time. He found himself looking around, faintly amazed because it... was no longer raining. It wasn't as though the sun was shining or anything, but the torrential downpour had passed, leaving the world a rather gloomy grey that didn't at all match the elation leaping within Lance. "I like that plan," he agreed, falling into step beside Keith as they began the walk back towards their apartment. "I'm not sure if I should... um, sleep, though. Or you'll just have to wake me up in a couple hours," he said carefully, regretting even having to bring it up. The last thing he wanted was for Keith to start beating himself up (again) for... well, beating him up.

Stranger: Keith was already in the midst of hating himself, eyes seeming to match the grey world around them as they widened slightly, realizing he gave Lance a goddamn /concussion/. "I.. fuck." Keith hissed a breath out between his teeth, hand tightening around Lance's as something squeezed his heart like a spiked vice, the blood covering his insides turning into a punishing liquid fire. Reignited. Towards himself this time. "I'm so fucking stupid. I shouldn't /ever/ hit you. I know that we have before, but I was doing /better/. You /never/ deserved it."

You: Lance looked over towards him, a frown on his face. "I'm okay, Kogane. You'd know it if I wasn't, because I'd still be on the ground." He ran his thumb over the back of Keith's hand, an absent motion to attempt to calm him. "I goaded you into it. I knew what I was doing. And I swear, I'm okay. I just want to be on the safe side." When Keith's expression remained unchanged, Lance stepped in front of him and stopped walking. "Keith, I /knew/ what I was doing. I knew what would happen if I didn't back down. I did it anyways, because... Because I know you need to get all that shit inside of you out. There are probably better ways to do that, and... hey, we can figure them out. Together. I swear I'm okay, alright?"

[specterebus]

Tag 9 People you want to get to know better

Tagged by: @nothing-matt

Relationship status:  Single and having a crisis over whether anyone will ever actually love me Favourite colour: Judging by my entire wardrobe I gotta say blue or black Lipstick or chapstick: Chapstick just because I don’t own any lipstick despite kinda wanting to Last song I listened to: I literally don’t know I’ve spent all my time listening to TAZ but I’m going to guess it was probably something like Grow Up by Holloway Last movie I watched: I watched Pleasantville in one of my classes and it totally counts because I was going to watch it on my own anyways Top three T.V. shows:  Gravity Falls, We Bare Bears, The Office Top three characters: Fai D Flowright, Leo Fitz, Orion Fowl Top three ships: Me with every cute person I know as I lonely cry into my pillow- I don’t really have any ships besides maybe FitzSimmons and Peri/Lapis??  Books I’m currently reading: I need to get down on Wicked, I started reading Enter Title Here but didn’t have time to finish and I want to reread Ready Play One...again

Tagging: @derse-agent and @sibylatrist TELL ME YOUR SECRETS...aside from that I can’t really think of anyone who I couldn’t just ask myself so if you want to do it go for it

[arcadiafalls]

Tagged by @arysthaeniru, thank you <3

1. Are you named after someone? Not my first name but my middle name is after my Mum’s best friend from school. 2. When was the last time you cried? I watched all the Hobbit extended editions a couple of days ago and I didn't cry at the movies themselves but I teared up over the song Billy Boyd sings at the end of the Battle of Five Armies. Then I played the music video which I hadn't seen before and lost it completely. 3. Do you like your handwriting? Nooooo. The only time my handwriting looks good is if I lie on my stomach and prop up on my elbows to write which is a) uncomfortable and b) not something I can really do outside my room. The rest of the time it’s a vaguely legible scrawl that gets smudged if I write too quickly because I’m left-handed. 4. What is your favorite lunchmeat? Ham, I guess? I’m drawing a blank on other lunchmeats. 5. Do you have any kids? Nope, childfree for life (without being one of those CF people). When they were handing out maternal instincts I misheard and developed a caternal instinct instead. I’m going to take a page out of my grandmother’s book and become the neighbourhood cat lady. 6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? Maybe? I’m a good friend when I’m with people but I also go for long periods without seeing some friends because I’ve only got so much time and energy and I try to spread my social life out so that I see people individually or in small groups. 7. Do you use sarcasm? I try not to because it can sometimes be misconstrued among people who don't share my sense of humour but if I know someone won’t take offence? All. The. Time. 8. Do you still have your tonsils? Yep 9. Would you go bungee jumping? Never. Not even for a million dollars. You know that feeling in your stomach when you drop suddenly like on a roller coaster? I’m super sensitive to it to the point that I get that feeling driving down a hill and I hate it because it feels exactly the same as the start of a panic attack. Even aside from that I’m not into extreme stuff so I’ll just watch :) 10. What is your favorite type of cereal? I’ve never really eaten much cereal because I’m not so great with milk but maybe muesli? Something not too sweet that stays crunchy. 11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Nah. 12. Do you think you’re a strong person? People say I am but I don’t feel like one. I’m not one to talk about feelings and I internalise pretty much everything so I can get on with things which gives the illusion of strength but really I’m a mess lol. I’m great in a crisis, though. 13. What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Again, dairy is not my friend but probably passionfruit 14. What is the first thing you notice about people? This sounds bad but I don't tend to notice people unless I’m intentionally people watching. I’m not oblivious as such because I’m aware of what’s going on around me but I don’t tend to take in what I see so I never have any idea about the latest hairstyles/fashions etc. I guess if I was intentionally looking I’d notice someone’s hair colour. 15. Red or pink? Red in general but I look better in pink. 16. What is the physical feature you like least about yourself? Only one? I’m really anaemic right now so my hair has started falling out and won't grow back until I get things fixed and that’s easier said than done. No matter how I style it you can see my scalp and I leave strands of hair everywhere I go DDD: 17. What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now? I’m still in my pajamas so no shoes and grey pj shorts 18. What was the last thing you ate? I haven’t eaten breakfast yet but I had a chicken/vegetable/rice noodles stir-fry last night. 19. What are you listening to right now? Nothing. I find it distracting when I’m doing something and I’m not super into music anyway. 20. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? I don't know any of the official Crayola names but I’d be a reddish purple crayon. 21. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? My mum. She needed a wedding card to send to someone so I went to the card shop and described/read her the cards over the phone (and got weird looks but whatever) 22. Favorite sports to watch? Cricket, but I totally recognise it’s not for everyone. As much as I love it, even I can't justify a single match going for five days but I still maintain taking a tea break is civilised :) Honourable mentions to tennis and gymnastics, particularly the most recent Australian Open final and anything Simone Biles has ever done. 23. Hair color? Dark brown 24. Eye color? Dark brown 25. Do you wear contacts? I have them but I almost never wear them because I have really dry eyes and I hate putting drops in. I look better with glasses anyway (when I say “better” I really mean “slightly less weird”) so I don't mind wearing them all the time. 26. Favorite food to eat? It changes but I’ve been eating a lot of falafel and hummus lately. I hope chickpea poisoning isn't a thing...  27. Scary movie or comedy? Neither. I hate scary things unless they’re non-gory psychological thrillers - and even then it’s borderline too much - and I’ve got a weird sense of humour that doesn't really lend itself to movies or tv shows. 28. Last movie you watched? The Hobbit: TBoFA Extended Edition. I have mixed feelings about the Hobbit movies in general but the EE is far more satisfying than the theatrical release. 29. What color shirt are you wearing? Blue (yes, still in my pjs :D) 30. Summer or winter? SUMMER. It’s been too hot (40+ degrees celsius) lately and my aircon is broken but I’ll still take that over feeling cold. I think I'm cold blooded or something because I feel really lethargic and unmotivated in winter and Sydney winters don't even get that cold. 31. Hugs or kisses? Hugs. Any time I've kissed anyone I've spent more time thinking about how awkward it is and less time actually enjoying it. Most of this was before I learned asexuality is a thing so now I just don’t kiss people 32. What book are you currently reading? I’m rereading the Rivers of London books before I read the newest book in the series because it’s been a while and I need a refresher.  33. Who do you miss right now? My best friend is overseas for a few months on an archaeological dig which is really cool but she’s in a completely different time zone so it’s difficult to talk much. 34. What’s on your mouse pad? I've only got a laptop so I don't use a mouse/mouse pad. 35. What’s the last TV program you watched? I've just started watching House of Cards. People kept telling me I'd love it because everyone is so evil and I'm not sure whether they were implying something??? 36. What is the best sound? Popping bubble wrap 37. Rolling Stones or The Beatles? The Rolling Stones are arguably a better rock band but something about the Beatles resonates with people and I find that fascinating. 38. What is the farthest you’ve ever traveled? Sydney to London 39. Do you have a special talent? I can bend my thumb to touch my arm in both directions and do the splits. I also won awards for speech and debate in school but it’s been a while since I’ve done any of that. 40. Where were you born? Sydney, Australia

If you’re reading this consider yourself tagged :)

[dem-khuya]

09302018:1110

Lately, I've been reading lots of books. I went through two of Murakami's short story collections and am now reading Arundhati Roy's "The Ministry of Utmost Happiness", which I really enjoy so far, but it's admittedly really hard to go through. I mean...the subject matter is difficult enough. But also this novel reminds me a lot of "A Hundred Years of Solitude", in that there are so many characters and each sentence something new happens or a new revelation is discovered. So much information in just a few lines. It's hard to keep track of and it makes my head stuffy but it's really rewarding. I need to remember to keep up with it though or else I'll have to start over. When I was reading "A Hundred Years of Solitude" I had to restart 3 times because I always dropped it halfway and forgot what had happened.

One book that I also revisited was "Life After God", by Douglas Coupland. It's kinda funny. I got into Douglas Coupland because his book covers are super hip lol. I bought his book jPod a long time ago because I thought the cover looked cool. I'm really a dumb bitch. But anyway, it was a really fun read. Not a good one but it was really funny, and I mean, I think I was in middle school at the time so what I read by then was very limited. I know there's lots of writers who said that they read their whole library and stuff but I never did that! I think there was even a point where I hated reading books from my school because I couldn't relate to any of them. Lots of fantasy stories I didn't care for, lots of books with white protagonists I didn't like. I didn't know enough about black literature then(not like my elementary  and middle school library had much on that anyway) and I wish that I did because I'd be a lot more educated on that now but more on that later.

It was in this way I stumbled on his book Life After God. For a really long time, it was like...my favorite book ever lmao. See how limited my reading was? Anyway, for some reason, it was a book that resonated with me for years. I made my favorite teachers read it and lent it to lots of my friends. I'm such an embarrassing kid. I guess how lost many of the protagonists of these stories were, and how they had grown up in suburban Canada (for me, suburban America) had really made them more relatable to me, even if they were all white and supposedly middle class. I didn't think much about those things back then. I reread the book a few days ago and there are still some passages that have the same lasting effect on me. The Superman story, for example, about a simple man falling out of a relationship and talking about birds and how nice it'd be if Superman were real, always gets me haha...especially the line where he says that he believed in superman because it'd be nice to believe that there was one person in the world who never did anything bad. Or the story about Laurie, a sister who wanted to and eventually did disappear, leaving her younger sister to ruminate on the relationship that they once had. I remember that story used to always make me cry.  It still hurts to read! Perhaps because this might be the relationship I have with my older brother now. The other stories are really eh to me though, especially now. There's some dumb and trite stuff of course. Like that one story about the man and woman who fall out of love in a weird midlife crisis way, as if there weren't already countless romantic films about that! Not that that's a bad thing but for this reason, the story feels like it's trying to be deeper than it really is. And that last story was kind of annoying too. It's sad it took up the whole second half of the book.

I don't really like Douglas Coupland that much anymore (though one day I plan to finish reading Shampoo Planet). His style is very bare bones and conversational, which is nice. Actually, now that I think about it, he is probably the foundation from which i write. By that I mean I'm definitely never going to be one of those wordy, Vladimir Nabokov kinda dudes...or even like...how Madeleine Thien wrote "Do Not Say We Have Nothing"? Yeah, I'm never gonna get to be that level of prosaic. But his stories are maybe a little too light or silly (literally silly! Not being mean) for me to read anymore. He's a wonderful artist though...his book covers are so pretty! Right next to Murakami's book covers. But he's definitely just a nostalgic writer for me.

I only started reading more seriously after I met Lhiftya and read everything she read, like a dumb baby duckling. Her reading taste is the best. It's actually because of her that I picked up Arundhati Roy's new book in the first place. I'd been tiptoeing around it because The God of Small Things (which I also read cos of her) was...a lot. But through Lhiftya I'd read lots and lots of good books...Madeleine Thien is the first one that comes to mind, and then of course Haruki Murakami (who I'm starting to learn to appreciate more), a little bit of Yukio Mishima (really mixed feelings about the guy though), Richard Siken (man...), Warsan Shire, Jenny Offill. And as a result of these authors, I was able to go out and find more. I wouldn't have been interested in learning about Vietnamese literature if I never read Madeline Thien, and I wouldn't have picked up A Hundred Years Of Solitude again either. I'm certain there's more! I just can't remember. If I had known about these authors growing up I would've loved to read.

[alexdroege]

depression

Depression is the moment when I am alone at 2 A.M. and I start to think. I start to think of everything. I think about all the selfish things I’ve done. All the things I hide from the people who claim to love me. Depression is crying alone behind a locked bedroom door muffled by pillows and blankets stained with tears, the music is so loud and so intense just trying to drown out all the bad thoughts and memories seeping into my head. Depression is feeling insane. It's being afraid that I’ll end up doing something I’ll regret. Depression is trying to be okay but never knowing how long that will last. Depression is being physically okay, the scars fade even the mental ones. But the faded scars on my body will always be there, constantly reminding me, even on my best days. But once again I’m getting sick. More than I usually am. It feels like I’m drowning. Just out of reach, just above the surface. I can see the help I need, it's seems so close yet in reality is incredibly far. I can’t ask for help. Not without feeling crazy. Without feeling unstable. I feel like a charity case and most people will treat me like I am one. The cries for help will just be in jokes and underhanded remarks thrown into conversation. The good parts of who I am will start to die. If it dies, I’ll die but if I die, I'll be forgotten. I'll be remembered like a stain on people's lives. I’ll be stuck in metaphoric quicksand. Not knowing what to do anymore. Depression is not feeling like you can take it for much longer. As though one day you just won't wake up. So you’ll start to think more about your backup plan for when you won't actually wake up, so instead of planning for college, or your family, or your future, you plan your note and who will find you and who’ll see you first and knowing wholeheartedly that you'll want to undo it seconds after. Depression is not always feeling sad or hopeless, but never being exactly happy either. Depression is being able to laugh during the day and smile, but sometimes when you’re alone you’ll forget how to feel. In your head you know that doesn't make sense by any means. Depression is feeling like the most ungrateful human on earth because you have no reason to be sad. Almost as though you're a waste of space, an eternal burden on everyone's lives. An everlasting irritation, Because being called irritating is truly one of the worst feeling. Depression is when you’re scared to speak or do anything. You’ll end up being isolated because you’ll think you’re burdening everyone with your simple existence and that's what Depression does. Its best at making you feel insecure about everything, breathing, walking, speaking, even the most mundane things. Depression is so often paired with Anxiety, like best friends. Where one is the other follows. Anxiety is almost worse than its counterpart. It makes you rethink everything you say hundreds of times even before the words pass your lip. In mere moments you'll second guess everything you do or have ever done. Anxiety is when the class is reading aloud so you count the paragraphs till it's your turn and reread the passage as many times as you can before your up. The closer your turn gets the more my hands tremble and the faster your heart beats, you keep rereading just so you don't humiliate yourself in front of everyone. Anxiety is when your voice quivers and shakes when you're reading aloud and you have a panic attack on the inside, which causes you to stutter and stumble over your words even more and it just gets worse and worse the more you speak. Anxiety is when you see people laughing and having conversations and you start to think of the hundreds of horrible, abusive things they could be saying at your expense in a matter of seconds. Your heart starts to race and pound out of your chest and you feel like you're dying when you walk by large groups hoping and begging they don't notice you because that's what Anxiety does. Even just writing this makes my pulse hasten, my hands shake, I'm more aware of everything and I’m paranoid. Just remembering these moments makes me shudder and hope to god that no one else ever experiences this, not even my worst enemies. The amount of fear that Anxiety and Depression cause is unbelievable, unfathomable even. Depression and Anxiety are the only mental illnesses that everyone's family secretly experiences and sees without even realizing it. The cries for help just under the surface, they are there, you just have to pay more attention. People are screaming, crying and even dying for help but you set us aside like we’re damaged goods that no one wants to look at. We’re the weird loners in your schools that’ll always look down when you walk by us and wear all black in 100 degrees. We’re the popular kids that put on a mask each morning so we don't have mental breakdowns in the middle of class and go home to cry and hurt ourselves. We’re the ones that need the most help but don't want to out ourselves to ignorant people. If you're told no one cares enough times, you’ll start to believe them. Trust me. I know. Crisis Lines Self-Injury Support: 1-800-DONT CUT (1-800-366-8288) (www.selfinjury.com) Panic Disorder Information and Support: 1-800-64-PANIC (1-800-647-2642) Youth America Hotline: 1-877-YOUTHLINE (1-877-968-8454) National Adolescent Suicide Helpline: 1-800-621-4000 To help understand others Anxeity- http://www.vox.com/2014/12/4/7262991/anxiety-disorder-help Depression-https://www.helpguide.org/articles/depression/helping-a-depressed-person.htm http://i-have-no-gender-only-rage.tumblr.com/post/124580342373/master-post-of-calming-things