#he also has mushrooms growing out of him but i decided that after i finished this drawing

[cemetery-irises]

forgot to put this here. uhhh yeah new oc he wanders a snowy forest as a guardian and maybe will have a mace. rozaliya agapova everybody

[the-starry-seas]

ottaburas crossed my dash again and i couldn't resist making some of my own this time, since i saw the lineart that @sundownsquad provided. i decided to give these guys to the ghost squad in their post-war/sanctuary era!

Chestnut, a young male belonging to Harlow. Harlow's first reaction to seeing ottas was to borrow a local saying and call them 'an odd chestnut'. The name stuck (and became much more affectionate). He's old enough to have finished training but his steady nature is what's really responsible for his 'bombproof' reputation. He has yet to be bothered by anyhting, as far as they can tell, and is far more likely to explore a new thing with his mouth than feel any fear. Patterned after a bay roan with a badger face and I used kumuology on dA's roan brush for his coat.

Ruusaan is a female a few months old that Tally's been hand-raising (aka spoiling her rotten). She's too smart for her own good, which is mostly expressed through her general disinterest in training. Getting her to obey relies heavily on her wanting to go along with the idea, and there's no such thing as making her carry cargo. Despite that, she's generally a very calm individual who reserves trouble-making for when she's bored. I was going to give some spots to Chestnut but then I thought they'd look much better on a dark coat!

Liberty is the sweetest and most affectionate of the bunch. She'd be happy to quite literally be in Boom's pocket, and if not given sufficient attention, will try to put herself there so he has to look at her. He lets her get away with more than he should and they both know it. She was bought to help with plowing the fields and hauling the produce from them, but ended up mostly being there as a companion for Boom. He's trained her to help him get up if his prosthetic leg breaks, and she's happy to fetch him things (even if they all end up with teeth marks). She's also the favourite of Sanctuary's kids, and she's quite happy to let them feed her treats all day long and use her as a jungle gym (as long as they don't pull at her whiskers or ears, and they know to be polite).

Snack, short for Snack Sized, was originally thought to be a baby otta, like Ruusaan. When he didn't grow up any bigger, though, the Ghosts realised that he was fully grown at half the size of the others. One of the shinies quipped that he was snack sized and the name stuck. He decides early on that Cav is his human and they're not to be separated under any circumstances. Cav isn't convinced about that (neither is his wife for that matter) until he realises just how comforting Snack's presence can be, and trains him as a service dog. Taking Snack to the store can be a real adventure due to his size, but he's polite, and the locals are both familiar with ottas and rather fond of Sanctuary's citizens, so he's welcome in most places.

Ceru, short for Cerulean due to his blue colour, is Ray's BFF. She thinks he's the coolest otta ever, and who's to tell her otherwise? They go hiking a lot, exploring the area around Sanctuary, and occasionally fishing, foraging, or packing back hunted meat. Ceru's gotten very good at fishing from the river nearby, and Ray couldn't be prouder of him. The only trouble is getting him out of the water... and keeping him from shaking water all over anybody in the vicinity. They're the unofficial lifeguards when others are at the river, as Ceru is faster and more manuverable in the water than human swimmers or boats. He's got a sixth sense for digging up mushrooms.

Nox never does anything halfway, and that includes their choice (and decoration) of otta, Regina. She's by far the fastest in the area, which combined with an innate surefootedness and responsiveness to scent training, makes them a crack team when it comes to tracking and search-and-rescue. She'll only work with Nox, though, and bites anyone else who touches her without offering a treat first. Nox has done nothing to curb this behaviour. When SAR help isn't needed, she's winning races, being an animal ambassador to people who have never seen an otta before, herding livestock, and generally having the run of the lake in her downtime. She's painted with a mangōpare on her back leg for strength and courage, and a puhoro on her front leg for speed and agility.

Alor is the largest of Sanctuary's ottas, and the most protective. His primary role is a guardian of both livestock and people. Karla takes him on all the long-distance trips the other Ghosts take, and the rest of the time, he wanders about as he pleases between the livestock areas. He learned to open the gates he couldn't jump over, and at least he's polite enough to nudge them closed after he's through. Affectionate bites are nothing out of the ordinary, and tend to draw some blood even when he doesn't mean them to, so it's fortunate that aggressive biting isn't so much a thing - he flings the offender halfway across Sanctuary instead. He's partially deaf so people learn to make sure that he knows they're approaching him.

Quantum was named before she came to them, and nobody's really sure how she got that name. Shay sometimes takes after Nox and paints his own wave-pattern tattoos on her legs, but she does tend to roll in whatever water or mud she comes across, so he reserves the paint for special occasions. She's the strongest otta and also the most stubborn. Shay is the only one who can get her to do anything. He says it's because he's best at scratching her favourite spot under her chin and evidently she agrees. Even though she would do anything for him (and vice versa), other humans are none of her concern. She's a one-guy type of otta. She's got the smallest bit of white around her toes and the edges of her ears, at the tip of her tail, and a heart-shaped spot on her nose.

Ladybird belongs to Cav's wife, Seku. They're a pair of easygoing older ladies who enjoy taking it slow. She's also the otta responsible for guarding the daycare! When she's not napping with her head in Seku's lap, anyway, because they both very much enjoy that. Neither of them would let anyone but Seku ride her, that only occasionally, and they always take it slow. Seku loves her as a companion and needs nothing more from her. I couldn't draw her brindle stripes to my satisfaction so I used a tiger stripe brush from critelli on dA!

[merakiui]

I love the concept of serial killer Jade! It kinda got me thinking of a scenario where reader "kills" him and escapes. He doesn't die and wants to get back at you, but knowing him he wouldn't take revenge immediately instead indirectly torturing you to your breaking point. On the other hand, he probably would have taken some kind of twisted "interest" in you for being able to escape him once so in the end he might even kill you in the end, though death would be the better option than whatever Jade has in store for you. Idk just a thought but I would love to hear your thoughts. This isn't a request just curious what mind games Jade would pull on reader.

I decided to talk about more than just mind games.

(cw: yandere, kidnapping/captivity, mentions of murder/death/blood, mind games/psychological torture, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied cannibalism)

Jade’s home.

Jade lives alone in a spacious studio flat that is stuffed full of plants. He likes to grow all kinds of things, from mushrooms to flowers to houseplants. Not only do his plants provide cleaner indoor air, they also brighten the room with their greenery. Most of his dissections are done in the bathroom, specifically the bathtub. He can’t stand a dirty living space, so he makes sure to clean up after he’s finished. His home is always neat, organized, and sterile, and most days it smells of fragrant teas and lavender blossoms. He does not receive guests and only ever meets with Floyd and Azul outside of his home (at cafés for example). 

Jade’s relationships.

Ever since he moved out of the small apartment he shared with Floyd, which left his brother confused and somewhat hurt over the sudden decision, he’s led a quiet and private life. It feels as if the brothers drift apart with each day, and if Floyd and Azul make note of the obvious rift Jade denies such claims. This has always been their usual, hasn’t it?

Captivity.

The longest he’s ever lived with a victim has been one week and that soon changes once he begins the nine months with you (which he marks off on a calendar to keep track of the passing days). Jade doesn’t enjoy having other people encroach on his space, especially if they’re prone to make messes. When you’re trapped in Jade’s house, you will spend most of your time restrained. He prefers to keep you chained in the bathroom because that is the easiest space to clean should you make a mess, but when he’s home with you you’ll be freed of the shackles and will be permitted to roam the house. Jade will bathe and feed you because he doesn’t trust you to do it by yourself and the last thing he wants is you spoiling any delicious part of your body. He expects you to stretch when he’s home to ease your tension and keep your muscles healthy, and you’ll be fed meals with lots of nutritional value.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Jade tries to use every part of his victims in an effort to reduce waste. He uses their bones to make his own bone meal for his plants, he collects and freezes gallons of blood to use in dishes and teas, and he finds creative ways to make a meal out of their innards. He’s considered using their hair to make wigs, but he’s not quite sure what use he would have for them. His freezer comes in handy when he needs to store certain parts that can’t be consumed right away. Other (low-quality) body parts are likely to be turned into some sort of paste or the human equivalent of chum, which he’s thought about casting into the sea for other carnivores to enjoy. He’ll keep high-quality cuts and organs for himself, though.

Mind games and miscellaneous activities.

Jade likes to play with you. It’s his form of stress relief. One of his favorite games involves blindfolding you, placing your hand on a cutting board (fingers spread), and forcing you to listen as the tip of the knife embeds in the wood—the only sound you’ll hear in the tense room (aside from your heavy breathing). Jade has told you that if the blade so much as nicks you he’ll bring the knife down on that finger and take it for himself. He plays this game every Saturday evening; you’ve yet to lose your fingers, but you’re waiting for the moment when he slips up in his perfect pattern and severs the appendage.

Every morning, he’ll sit on the sofa with you to watch the news. Jade feels a twisted sense of satisfaction to witness the hope drain from your eyes when you spot your face on the TV and listen to the newscaster as they explain that they’ve yet to secure any leads in your missing person case. You’ll watch people you know as they’re interviewed about you. You saw Azul on there once, barely holding in his tears as he tells the reporter he’s hoping you’re safe out there and that you’ll come home soon. You tried to look away, but Jade’s delicate fingers had gripped your chin and forced you to confront your reality. You will die here—he must remind you of that fact so that you won’t grow too comfortable or hopeful.

When he finally brings someone else home, you’ll be forced to soothe the poor victim as they struggle in their bindings, their cries muffled by the tape stuck over their mouth. You’ll talk to them about anything peaceful, really, and assure them that things will be okay. Once they’ve succumbed to the sedatives, you’ll have to stand by as Jade drags them into the bathroom. He makes you watch as he goes about his routine, subjecting them to a quick, bloody death. The bathtub fills with crimson, and Jade expects you to provide him with the necessary tools and equipment as he requests it. The dissection will be permanently stuck in your mind, oozing into your dreams like the blood that spills from the victim’s corpse. 

Jade likes guessing games. Sometimes he’ll place two dishes in front of you and ask you to choose which one you’d like to eat. He’ll eat the one that isn’t picked. One of them is a human-based dish and the other has been made with animal meat from a butcher’s shop. He’s prepared both expertly, so much so that they look and smell incredibly appetizing. There is no indication on his face that you’ve picked the right one when you finally make your decision and he won’t tell you which is which. He just stares at you while he feasts, mismatched eyes pinning you to your seat. He never lets you waste food and you know that skipping meals is viewed as a criminal offense in his home, so you���re forced to dig into the meal as if it doesn’t contain human organs. Even if your dish is safe, you still feel nauseous consuming it. 

[all54321]

A Siblings’ Chat

After struggling with part 2 of “A ‘Chance’ Encounter,” I decided to write a possible scenario. I’m not sure if it will be canon in the end, but I had the idea. This takes place soon after Grian is outed as a spy, which is far into this AU’s timeline.

In this AU, Grian, Pearl, and Jimmy are all siblings, and are also avians. Grian has parrot wings, Pearl has owl wings, and Jimmy has canary wings. Grian lived on this island for a while now, Pearl moved when things started getting serious and started helping Cub, and Jimmy just came in after hearing about Grian. Also Flower Ranchers is canon in this AU.

—————

Pearl stares past the quarantine police lines, at the mycelium and mushrooms growing out of the road, sidewalk, around and even through buildings. It’s done a number one the places it’s reached and spreading farther every day. She supposes that having someone on the inside helped stall a lot of their progress in keeping it from spreading, not that she enjoys thinking about it that way.

“Pearl!” A voice calls to her, a strange mix of cheery and mournful.

She turns to face her brother, “hey Jimmy.” Pearl wishes she can have more enthusiasm at seeing her brother again after so long, but it’s hard in this situation.

He walks up beside her, staring past the border, “I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” A pause, “it’s great to see you again, I wish it was in a better situation.”

“Yeah,” Pearl murmurs, unsure what else to say.

After hesitating, Jimmy quietly asks, “Grian’s out there?”

She nods, “after we found out he was infected, he bolted very quickly. Gone before any of us could say anything.” She sighs, “we haven’t seen him since.”

“Do you know where out there?”

Pearl shakes her head, “nope. No one’s brave enough to venture into that forest to find their camp. Especially since stepping foot on the mycelium immediately alerts Father Spore. No one has even gotten close to the forest before he arrives, either infecting them or chasing them off.”

Jimmy stares towards the trees in thought, “would Grian come?”

“Maybe,” she murmurs, “but is it really worth the risk to try? The area itself is rather infectious.” Pearl frowns in thought, “if we stay on the edge, we might be safe, but it’s unlikely they’d come out to speak with us unless we go farther out.”

Jimmy sighs, “I suppose so, it was worth a try at least. I’ll help you however I can, to get our brother back.”

Pearl’s only half listening now, thinking on Jimmy’s suggestion. She’s been studying this stuff for a long time now, she knows a lot about it. Her and Cub also have theories that would be interesting to figure out. Mostly, she’s just hoping to see her brother again.

Without a word, she ducks under the police tape and steps onto the mycelium’s territory. Only standing at the edge of it, firmly inside, but close enough to the edge to flee to safety.

“Pearl!?” Jimmy exclaims in confusion, joining her after a bit of hesitation. He looks around at the area nervously.

“It’s safe if we don’t stray far inside,” she murmurs, “but if we can get Grian’s attention… it’s worth every chance to speak to him.” Jimmy nods, looking hesitant.

It doesn’t take too long for a figure to exit the woods, approaching them carefully. He stops a decent ways away, both hands on his cane as he studies them. “What brings you here on this fine day?”

“We’re here for our brother,” Pearl says, staring him down.

Scar doesn’t seem bothered, “Grian is home now, he doesn’t want to go back.”

“We just want to talk to him,” Jimmy presses, looking at the mushroom covered man nervously.

After staring at them in silence for a minute, he turns around partially and glances into the woods, “they don’t seem willing to leave, songbird.”

Immediately after he finishes speaking, Grian himself emerges from the forest, joining Scar and staring at them carefully, “Pearl. Tim.”

Jimmy opens his mouth, before quickly closing it. Pearl studies her brother, taking in the full effect of his infection. Mushrooms sprouted from his lower neck, dropping down under his collar. Several are also spread along his arms and legs. How had they not noticed before? Probably because of his careful outfit choice. He’s now wearing a lower collar T-shirt in comparison to his usual turtleneck sweater. Pearl can only guess it’s to let the mushrooms on him breath. Same for the shorts he now wears and lack of gloves.

“Grian,” Pearl starts, suddenly unsure.

“I won’t go back,” Grian says, cutting any possible response off. “I’m not welcome and I have no interest in becoming your lab rat.”

“That’s not what we’re here for.”

“What are you here for?”

“To talk to you,” Jimmy says, eyes focused of their brother.

Grian softens a little, “I missed you a lot, Timmy. Unfortunate timing to visit.” He pauses, sharing a glance with Scar, “or maybe fortunate.”

He tenses, “what do you mean?”

Grian takes a cautious step forwards, closer but still a safe distance away. “Join us, connect to the mycelium and let it care for you. Life is better this way.”

Pearl shakes her head, “no. No way. That’s crazy.”

“Pearl,” he whispers, before sighing, “I get how it may sounds to you, but what I say is true.” He turns to look at Jimmy again, “this isn’t just an invite for you. You can bring Scott and Tango here too.” He looks back at Scar briefly, “you can feel connected to them in ways you can never imagine.”

Pearl steps in between them before he can continue, “Grian, we are not joining your weird mushroom thing.” He makes an offended noise but Pearl continues, “we’re worried about you and want to help.”

Grian’s expression suddenly turns steely as he steps back to stand beside Scar again, “I don’t need help. My life is perfectly fine, better even, since I’ve connected to the mycelium. This is home, it’s everything I’ve always wanted. The only thing I want now is for you to join me.”

Pearl shakes her head, “Grian, think logically please. We miss you and just want you back.”

He sighs, “this conversation will go no where. You’re always welcome to join us.” Grian turns around, “let’s go Scar.”

“Wait, Grian!” Jimmy calls, stepping around Pearl, but he falters when Grian looks back at him.

At his silence, he continues to walk away. After studying them for a few more seconds, Scar turns and follows him away.

Pearl can’t help but feel disappointed at the conversation and herself. She had so many things to say to her brother, but could barely get anything out. He’s not a lost cause, she just needs to work harder. Pearl will save him, no matter the cost. She places a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly, “we’ll get him back, no matter what.”

—————

Edit: Forgot to mention that during the brief moment Scar was silent at the start was him talking to Grian through the hivemind. Him calling to Grian out loud was just to cover up that they can do that. They’re not interested in sharing that they can telepathically communicate via a hivemind to those not willing to join it. They vaguely refer to it, but not in detail.

[lexi-the-demon-69]

Small ideas that I came up for Dark Choco and Dark Cacao while washing my face

『┊☁——————————————————————☁┊』

☁【┊❅This kinda goes into my New Life AU btw❅┊】☁

『┊☁——————————————————————☁┊』

❅ Dark Cacao never really was there for Dark Choco growing up. And the reason why he wanted to go get the strawberry jam sword, was to get Dark Cacao’s attention.

❅ But, when Dark Cacao was there for him, he was the best father he could be. He genuinely tried to be there for his son, but he was very busy with his kingly duties. These moments were very far between from each other unfortunately and Dark Choco was kind of left with the watchers to look after him. 

❅ As Dark Choco mentions in episode 14, he really knew nothing but bitter cold and never the warmth of his father’s love. Which is what he craved so much as a child. So, to try to get his father’s attention, Dark Choco decides to be just like him to get his father’s approval. When he saw that it didn’t work as quickly as he wanted, out of despiration, he goes to find the strawberry jam sword. To gain more strength and gain Dark Cacao’s attention. 

❅When Dark Choco left the Dark Cacao Kingdom, he grew more and more resentful and hateful of his father. He was never there for him. Never loved him. Never said “I love you”. Why is he calling him “Father” when he never was one? (My personal critique/idea for episode 14 is that Dark Choco never should’ve addressed Dark Cacao as father. It would’ve been much more spiteful to address him by his real name. I think that would’ve fit better for him. Once Dark Cacao realizes why Dark Choco is this way because of him, it would’ve been more impactful on that scene.)

❅ After the events of episode 14, when Dark Choco leaves, he still somewhat has a resentment towards Dark Cacao. He knows that Dark Cacao wants to change, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Just to get them shot down by dissapointment. 

❅ When Dark Choco leaves, Dark Cacao was left with a bunch of guilt and shame. He treated his own son so poorly to the point where he wanted to kill him three times. He felt like his apology wasn’t at all what Dark Choco deserves from him and sout out to go find him. When he eventually finds him in the cake forest, Dark Choco was sort of shocked to see him after so long. When he saw his father’s face, he just closed the door to collect himself. He eventually lets him in to talk and Dark Cacao tries his best to apologize. But, Dark Choco says that it’s ok and he doesn’t need to apologize. Stating that it’s all in the past now and he was happy on his own. Dark Cacao asked if Dark Choco wanted to come home, but Dark Choco politely refused his offer and Dark Cacao completely understood. 

❅ After that, once a moon, Dark Cacao would visit his son and they genuinely have a healthy relationship. He always would come alone, because Dark Choco is pretty paranoid now and he doesn’t want the cookies of darkness to come after him.

❅ Meanwhile with the cookies of darkness, Pomegranate has been trying to find Dark Choco, so she could finish some “unfinished business” with him. While Pomegranate is doing this, Licorice has been trying to convince her to not even bother with him. He’s not their mission. Their mission was to clense Earthbread with war and darkness. Not to hunt down Dark Choco. Pomegranate would sometimes scold him for it, but she would agree. But that won’t stop her from sending out Red Velvet’s cake monsters to hunt Dark Choco down.

❅ Poison Mushroom still misses Dark Choco, because he was the only one who would “eat” his shroomies. (Dark Choco wouldn’t actually eat them. He would just throw them away, but he never got caught lol.) Licorice doesn’t want to admit it, but he also misses him too. Dark Choco was the only one who would accompany him on missions and he genuinely was somewhat good company. 

❅ Red Velvet never really knew Dark Choco as a person, because he was pretty busy with making cake monsters. But he heard from Licorice that Dark Choco was a slowpoke, but he was and I quote “He was always quiet and the least annoying. And made somewhat good company, whenever he wasn’t nagging about his stupid sword controlling him and whatnot.”

『┊☁——————————————————————☁┊』

Man this post is fucking long lol. So, enjoy these ideas. Enjoy them, cherish them.

[xandriagreat]

“Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” “Still just… sitting on this couch...”

Author’s note: This is for @anotsomysticalnight (also beta read by me 😎 -Myst). To make sure that no one is confused with the past characters and the ones in the video, the video will refer to them by their names while their past versions are called their functions. Example: Past!Patton is Morality, and Past!Roman is Princey/Creativity.

Notice/warnings: Coma mentioned, Crying, Wine, censored cursing (because there’s cursing in the video), caps, Remus being Remus, Remus is a rat man, Janus is a sass queen, Virgil is a mood, and Thomas is a hot mess

▪▪▪

Thomas was up late, as was quickly becoming his usual, working on 'Taking on Anxiety with Lily Singh', the newest addition to the Sander Sides series he hoped would do well.

After Thomas saved his progress, he sent a quick message to Joan about finishing his part of the editing, and exited out of the software so he could, finally, rest for the day. He was about to close his file explorer, he noticed a new video saved in the drafts.

"What’s this? 'Have I Grown? - Five Years Later | A Sander Sides Special'… What?" Thomas exclaimed in confusion. His habit of talking aloud to himself persisted.

He... doesn't remember recording anything about a five year anniversary of the Sanders Sides series... because it only started a mere few months ago...

After a moment in which he sat, baffled beyond belief, he summoned Logic, Morality, and Princey to his side.

"Hey guys." He greeted the three, who were all looking concerned at the summoning. 

"What's wrong? Where’s the danger?” Princey demanded, brandishing his samurai sword in determination. Thomas was going to ask why Princey has a samurai sword when he saw it but maybe now wasn’t the time. 

Instead he swivelled the laptop towards them, giving them a chance to look at his folders. "Oh! Maybe it's an opportunity for an audition!" Princey exclaimed, already posing as though he was being photographed for a magazine.

"Or maybe it's an invitation-" Logic and Morality began, the chaotic excitement building before it was, of course, interrupted by Anxiety, who shot up behind them all with a loud voice echoing off the walls of Thomas’s living room.

"What if we're HACKED?!”

All four screamed at the intense cry. "Oh… Anxiety… It's you." Thomas said, frowning at the dark clad side that just disrupted his, relatively, peaceful day.

"What? I got a feeling of… anxiousness here. Decided to pop in, see what’s up, y’know?"

“No, I don’t know!” Princey squawked at him. “Why don’t you go grow mushrooms in some corner somewhere, huh, you no-fungus?”

“Nah. I'm good right now.”

Thomas sighed in defeat, resigned. “He can stay…”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Anxiety and Princey chorused. Logic looked at Thomas thoughtfully while Morality clapped excitedly at this development.

“He's going to stay for this and no one’s going to complain about it, alright?” Thomas shot a warning look that broke no argument.

“What exactly is ‘this’ anyway?” Anxiety asked, trying to look above everyone's heads to get a look. Thomas shrugged, nudging the laptop closer to his sides in answer.

"Is this a new video that you're planning to upload?" Logic asked, looking at Thomas and pointing at the laptop.

Thomas shook his head.

"I just saw it in my drafts."

Princey shot Anxiety an ‘I don't believe this’ look while this was happening.

“Well, let's see what it’s all about then.” Princey announced, plopping down next to Thomas on the couch. Logic nodded in agreement with this course of action, and sat down on the other side of Creativity. “Oh boy this sounds like fun!” Morality squealed at the bonding opportunity, skipping over and sitting down next to Thomas on the youtuber’s right.

Anxiety debated on whether to sit down and join the group, or flee to the safety of his ‘room’. After a solid minute of this, Morality chimed in, “Come on, Anxiety.” The Dad patted the seat beside him, smiling at the emo while everyone else looked at the parental side in various states of confusion, disgust and apprehension. Anxiety, slowly and cautiously, walked over to them and sat down next to Morality, the only one who seemed to want him there.

“Are we ready?” Thomas asked, looking at his sides. All four of the sides nodded, some more enthusiastic than others.

Thomas smiled and pressed play on the video.

It started out with a pitch black screen, a set of white text stood out amidst the darkness. It read: ´Stay Tuned til the End For a Trailer Of a New Series…´

The scene cut to Thomas, waking up from his phone alarm in a manner identical to his first video. This detail was not lost on the bewildered audience. “AH! Youtube time!” Thomas on the screen said, grabbing his phone off the side table. “I've been asleep for… Five years?!”

Thomas looked at the sides in confusion at the sudden change. Aside from the initial announcement, it had seemed to be his first video. 

Anxiety sat, tense as a guitar string, as Logic pulled out his phone with a critical eye. “It's still 2016.”

“Wait…” the video Thomas said, turning to the camera with distress.

“What if, in that very first Sanders Sides episode I went to sleep, and never woke up? Have all my memories with the sides these past five years… been a dream?” 

Thomas rocked back, unnerved at this potential revelation. All, except Logic, began to fret. “What if I'm in a coma right now!” Thomas cried, panicked. “And I'm still stuck!”

“Probably!” Anxiety yelled, barely keeping a handle on his tempest tongue. “Maybe that's why you said that in the video!” 

Princey and Mortality screamed, ringing Logic’s ears.

Then, after a harrowing, tense moment of silence, Video Thomas smiles cheekily.

“Naah! But that would be wild, right?”

The group collectively relaxed at that, glad that Thomas was not in a coma. Anxiety taking an extra second to work through his breathing exercises before they all turned their focus back to the screen. Mortality checked on Anxiety, ensuring he’s fully okay, before chuckling at this on-screen Thomas’s antics.

It would seem that five years hadn’t changed Thomas that much.

The intro was... different. Each side flashed briefly on the screen. There was Princey, handsome as ever, with the word ‘Creativity’ beneath to explain his role. A title which changed too fast for any of them to process before being replaced with Logic, then Morality, then... Anxiety, who appeared, smiling, and dressed in... purple?

Thomas pauses it as the Sides talk amongst themselves. Princey looked at the designs in amazement. "These look incredible!" he exclaimed. “Why, my shoulders look so boring in comparison!” Morality eyed the Disney prince for a brief second.

“Your shoulders look great! How dare you say otherwise!” The father figure asserted passionately, defending his princely son even against his own observation. 

Logic, for his part, considered his current attire. “I have to say I do like the different colours that Morality and I are wearing in this video. The darker blue is very… sophisticated on me.”

Anxiety’s face lost its already pale pallor, turning gaunt. “How’d they know purple’s my colour?” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Princey raised an eyebrow at Anxiety, mistrustful as ever. “Hmmm, you’re still oh so ‘mysterious’, aren’t you?”  

Anxiety scowled at the creative trait, hating that his words still hurt. “And you’re still a dramatic drama-in-distress, but you don’t see me complaining, do you?”

Princey reared back in offence, but before a fight could break out, Morality and Logic planted their hands on each side’s shoulder, holding them firmly in their seats.

“I suggest that we continue before there is risk of an… incident, Thomas.” Logic said. Morality nodded in agreement.

Thomas, for his part, was more than happy to move on as his Logic suggested, reaching for the keyboard in silence.

Thomas tapped ‘play’ once more, and the four circles on screen, each of his sides on display, began to combine, morphing together to present Thomas, clad in his Steven Universe shirt and smiling into the camera.

Thomas noticed the blue background actually featured different symbols, all gliding across the screen, and wondered why they were there. Finally, as Thomas’s circle disappeared, the title slid into place: “Sanders Sides”

Thomas is very impressed by this introduction to the video. Why hadn’t he, Talyn, and Joan considered an intro like this before? Well, he supposed they would in the future. Within the next five years, at most.

"What is up everybody?!" the video edition of Thomas exclaimed excitedly, with an ever-familiar grin on his face.

Thomas noticed Morality, sat to his right, waving energetically at the screen as though the recording could see him. The host chuckled at his Morality's antics and continued to watch.

“We have recently rounded the corner of making these Sanders Sides videos, for five years!”

Logic, Princey, and Thomas sat to attention. "Oh!" The three had an epiphany of what's going on, while Morality and Anxiety looked confused between the others, completely out of the loop. Logic decided to take pity on the two, and explained,

"This video is clearly from the future, though how a piece of digital media travelled through spacetime eludes me at present." Morality and Anxiety blinked as comprehension dawned.

“Ooooh!”

Once Thomas was sure all of his sides were on the same page, he hit play.

Video Thomas explains, genuine and earnest, that he's grateful about all the experiences he's had over the course of 5 years. His understanding of his Anxiety, and realising his capacity for Deceit.

Thomas locked his gaze on the side that appeared on the corner of the screen, he looked like a strange fusion of Thomas and a reptile, maybe a snake or lizard, and Thomas had barely a second to take in the stranger’s scales and hat before the image was gone. Video Thomas pressed on, mentioning something strange about a courtroom scene with footage in the corner playing of his sides, in suits, sitting in a wooden courthouse. Before Thomas had time to digest that, he continued to watch. 

"-went to the mall! Don't underplay that, it was a big thing for me."

"What happens at the mall? Why’d I have to mention something mundane like going to a mall? I go there all the time!" Thomas asked in indignation, hastily pausing the video to look at his Sides, as though one of them would have an explanation. They shrugged amongst each other, equally as confused as their host and unable to provide an answer.

Logic fixed his glasses with dignity, straightening his tie as he gathered his thoughts, "Maybe you got exceedingly busy with work and other responsibilities, or your friends became unable to meet with you for whatever reason. Or you had gotten so sick that you had not been in a fit enough state to visit the store for a long while? But that is unlikely as you seem perfectly healthy in this video."

Thomas nodded, accepting that his sides didn’t know either, and after a moment unpaused the video. 

"And, lord, we ate a lot of jam!" Video Thomas remarked as various clips of the sides, primarily Logic and Princey, stuffing their faces with jam appeared. “Not quite sure how that played such a huge part in this series, but it did!”

Logic grimaced at the sight of his future self being so… uncouth with consuming the jam, but added the spread to his mental ‘to-try’ list, right below Bullet Journaling. His future self couldn’t be entirely without consideration after all.

“And these talks have meant a lot to me, like, every facet of me.” 

Thomas smiled at his Video counterpart’s words. His sides did mean a lot to him, after all. 

“You know, in television five years is about that time that they would make one of those really self-indulgent interviews with the cast where they'd laugh and talk about their favourite moments on and off screen.” Video Thomas chuckled heartily.

Thomas nodded with his sides, knowing some amazing shows they have watched have pulled that type of stunt. 

They all jumped, however, when Video Thomas turned. The angle of the scene changes with a sharp cut, altering Thomas’s outfit along with it.

“And that's exactly what we're gonna do.”

The group felt excited at what future Thomas was doing, leaning in eagerly to see what their future selves were like.

Video Thomas then turned around again, facing to the right, presumably talking to someone who sat off screen. 

“Wow, we have sure had some wild times huh? And I know there are those out there that wanna know what your thoughts are on five years of Sanders' Sides!”

It then cut to Logic sat in front of some plain white blinds, clad in a professional looking indigo tie. The small image of a brain with glasses printed on his black polo shirt is stark white in contrast.

“It is hard to believe it’s been five years of these discussions, mainly due to the fact that we’ve only had a little over nine and a half hours on screen together; if you don’t count our interactions that are not considered canonical to the core series, but, even then. My Point is I don’t think we deserve this celebration. Cheers.”

“Well, he rambles just as much as our Logic does. Clearly not much changes there huh?” Princey quipped as Thomas paused the video to stare at the bespectacled side on screen. He looked at him and back at Logic. Then Thomas noticed some text on the bottom left corner of the screen.

‘Logan Sanders - Thomas’ Logic’

‘AKA Microsoft Nerd’

Thomas once again trailed his gaze over to Logic. “Logic? Why does this say ‘Logan Sanders’?“

Logic went speechless, jaw working soundlessly for a moment before finally finding his voice. “I-it’s my name.”

“Your what?!”

“My name. We all have names, Thomas.”

Thomas flickered his eyes between the others. Princey and Morality nodded, pensive.

“Our names are a private thing Thomas. We only give them when we feel you are ready…”

“Which I am SO not ready for.” Anxiety groaned. “Is this video gonna expose all our names? Oh my- no…” He was going into panic attack mode again. Morality comforts Anxiety and helps him calm down.

Thomas nodded, concerned. “Understandable. Should we stop watching then?”

“No!” All four yelled together, startling their host with their volume.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Thomas pressed play, also eager to see more. 

It showed Morality with a different background. It was still the same white blinds, but they were adorned with a happy birthday banner hanging across the blades. 

Morality has his same style, much like Logan did, only his cardigan had been traded for a grey hoodie with white paw prints visible on the sleeves. A white heart symbol, wearing glasses much like Logan’s symbol did, was etched into his blue shirt.

*TOOOOOOOT*

“PAPPY BIRTHDAY! Sanders’ Sides would be in kindergarten now! Oh my gosh, it would be going off to its first day of school, making its first friends, eating the chalk-! Oh, my gosh, I- guh- I'm making myself cry again!” The Fatherly side took a sip of Logan’s wine, only to spit it out nary a second later. “Oh gosh, who left this juice out?”

Thomas paused the video again to compare to Morality that he has now and to the video’s. Again, he noticed the text on the bottom left corner.

‘Patton Sanders - Thomas’ Morality & Heart’

‘AKA Pop Star’

“Morality? That's your name?”

Morality nodded and gave a chuckle filled with nervous energy. “Surprise?”

Thomas looked at him and smiled. “I like it. It fits you.”

Morality smiled big as Thomas pressed play to see what was next. 

The next scene showed Princey, sitting before the same ‘Happy Birthday’ banner as Patton had been. 

His prince outfit looked fancier, with golden accents and two shield symbols set proudly on his arms. He looked like a true prince charming.

“Hello, I'm Roman. Chronically single, I'm a Gemini, and I like long duels on the Beach-”

“Roman!”

“-I'm sorry, what is this again?”

Then the screen did the static of lost connection, startling the five viewers.

Princey, Roman, looked like he was having makeup applied to his cheeks.

“Alright, just be sure to get the best side of this best side, right? Haha, that one’s for the promos! Five years and we’re still going strong with the wordplay right fellas?” He started to laugh.

“Roman!”

The screen did the static of lost connection, again.

Now they saw a sobbing Princey on screen, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue.

*Sniff* “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I'm just, so woefully unprepared for this. Our anniversary! Thomas' viewers amazingly graced with five years... of me!!” he sniffed again, dabbing his nose with the tissue, before waving his hand dismissively. “...And the others, sure.”

Thomas paused the video again to compare the two Princes. He read the text on screen with less hesitation than before.

´Roman Sanders - Thomas´ Creativity, Ego & Passion´

´Aka Sir Sing-A-Lot´

“So Princey's name is Roman?” Thomas looked at Princey. The royal side nodded regally with a smirk.

Thomas smiled. “Huh, Roman. ‘Romance’. It suits you.”

The Prince gasped, happily and dramatically, as Thomas continued the video.

Anxiety was next. He was wearing a full on black hoodie, the familiar dark shade of the clothing was disrupted by the bright purple patches and white stitches all over the fabric. His eyeshadow, they all noticed, was much darker and thicker in the video compared to the present.

Video Anxiety held himself with a confidence that seemed almost alien to him, smiling at off-screen Thomas as he spoke casually.

“Hey yeah congrats guys, five years of putting up with me! It has felt... much longer than that! Mostly ‘coz I've had to deal with him too but, y'know I guess all that stormy weather got us to this miserable point, huh?”

Video Thomas eyed his Anxiety in concern, only for the scene to cut back to Anxiety, whose smile melted to a frown.

“Can I go?” The emo on the screen asked, desperate to escape the awkward atmosphere he’d just created.

Thomas paused the video to compare Anxiety to the video version, after cataloguing the differences he read bottom left text.

‘Virgil Sanders - Thomas’ Anxiety’

‘AKA My Chemically Imbalanced Romance’

Thomas looked at Anxiety. “That's your name? Virgil?”

Anxiety was hesitant, breathing deeply, but instead of panicking further he nodded. “It… it is…” the emo admitted, looking down. He knew, after seeing the others, that his name would come up whether he liked it or not, and he could only hope Thomas liked it.

Thomas started to smile at him, taking the emo by surprise. “It's... different, from the others, but I like that it’s different.”

Anxiety looked up at him, wide eyed at Thomas’ response. “Really? You do?”

Thomas nodded kindly, ignoring the stares he was getting from the other sides who sat watching the exchange. “Shall we continue?” 

Anxiety nodded, wanting to move on from being in the spotlight. 

The video resumed once more.

The next side shown was the strange fusion of Thomas and a reptile he’d only gotten a glimpse of earlier. He dressed with class, a fashion that wouldn’t be too out of place for the late 1800s or early 1900s era. His outfit was black with yellow buttons, a small black caplt draped on his shoulders, and a bowler hat sat on his head with charm.

When this new side spoke, his tone was dripping with sarcasm and irony.

“Mmmm, yes happy five years, five drama free years. It really is astounding how these little 'meetings of the mind' lead to clear, and concise conclusions that leave everyone so happy, and angst free-”

Thomas read the text on the bottom left hand corner to find out who this strange side is.

‘Janus Sanders - Thomas’ Deceit’

‘AKA Bannaconda’

“Janus?” Thomas mumbled as the video kept playing.

“Okay Janus!” Video Thomas interrupted. “I know that this is your thing, but this is a positive look back on how far we have come. So your recent appearances on screen have been… fun additions.” Video Thomas smiled awkwardly at his own words before asking, “Uuum… do you feel you’re-… jelling... with... the cast?” He spoke with halted familiarity. As though talking to Janus was a common occurrence for him, yet still unpracticed and new.

The scene cuts back to Janus. "Oh, yes! Let's see. There's my new bestie, Patton, who's so good at keeping you in check. I'm sure that you would be totally lost without a man child who ties a cat hoodie around his neck."

Then it cut to Patton pointing at Video Thomas who was offscreen. "Ah!" Patton chuckled, lowering his hand down. "Jan’ said that, huh? Oh, that jokester! He knows how easily cold my shoulders get. Call them my  colders!"

Thomas looked at the Sides. All three were looking at Morality, who had his head tilted to the side. "I've never thought about calling him something like that." Morality frowned, struggling to reconcile that, in the future, Deceit was going to be someone he grew close to. Close enough for nicknames.

The video cut back to Janus. "And Logan… ah! You can totally see how he's your sense of reason. Especially when he makes mistakes."

Cut to Logan, who held a small full wine glass aloft as he responded. "Okay, it's just... very interesting that Janus would be so quick to bring up that point, when the odds of a mistake happening again are… infinitesimale. Eh?"

Logic hummed. "Infinitesimale." He spoke slowly, rolling his tongue around the word. "What mistake could I possibly be referring to ‘very big’?"

Morality opens his mouth to correct him, but the video continued before he had the chance.

Janus continued, "Roman… you know…" he sighed wistfully. "Despite our differences, I personally see ourselves in this lovely friendship, akin to me being the Voltaire to his Rousseau."

Roman jerked forward with an intense look at Video Thomas. "He said that about me?! I...I don't have enough information to decide how I  feel about that…"

Princey looked confused. "Is that a compliment?" he asked, looking at the others. All four could only shrugged, equally as lost.

Janus smiles wistfully as he gives his thoughts on the fourth and final side. "And Virgil… well, there's not much to say there.” The serpentine side raised the same wineglass Logan had earlier, bringing it close to sip before halting the motion, looking thoughtful.

“Except I do so love the consistency of his make-up." The snake chuckled, dark and ominous, as he sipped the wine.

None of the group were surprised at this point when Virgil appeared on screen, looking red in the face and seething.

"That! Futher! Mucker!"

Thomas pauses the video and looks at the Sides. Anxiety looked confused and a bit upset. "Still not friends?" Anxiety whispered feebly. "What?" Logic asked, not able to make out what Anxiety had uttered. This drew the others' attention. 

"Anxiety? What's wrong?" Thomas asked. Anxiety shot his host a look and frantically shook his head. When he answers, his voice is tense and defensive, "Nothing…"

"...Want to talk about it-?" Princey began, unsure if he should ask. 

Anxiety shook his head in refusal before the creative side’s question could finish. "I'm not ready to tell any of you yet."

Morality looked at him, then the screen, and back to him. "Is it about Him?" He asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Anxiety pulled his hoodie up, trying to hide from the attention. 

"Who?" Thomas frowned at the vagueness of his sides, wanting to know more.

"An ex-friend..." Anxiety mumbled. "That's all I'm gonna say."

Thomas nodded, knowing better than to push. "Okay." He said, and unpaused the video to prevent the others from pressing the subject.

The next thing that was on screen was shocking and unexpected. The screen was taken up by a black clad rear bouncing and wiggling inappropriately. A small green sword emblem was designed on it.

"Hey! Check it out, I'm Roman!" the side cackled. “Get my best side, am I right?”

"Oh. I can't believe this is how I'm finding out where your emblem is" Video Thomas sighed, pleading for strength. "Um, Remus? Can we sit correctly, buddy?"

The new side twizzled around to sit properly on the chair. He looked remarkably similar to Roman, only he was wearing a fancy black outfit as opposed to Roman’s pure white, and green sash across his torso instead of a red one. He also has a moustache and grey stripe in his hair. He certainly looked unique.

"Who says that there's a correct way to sit? Have you ever thought about that, man?" This new side, apparently named Remus said. Video Thomas was thinking of an answer and started "Remus-" but was interrupted by Remus saying, "Expand your f***ing mind, bro!"

Thomas paused the video, just to clear his mind and look at the bottom text.

‘Remus Sanders - Thomas’ Forbidden Creativity’

‘AKA The Duke’

"Remus? Forbidden Creativity?" Thomas reads. He looked at the sides "Who is Remus or Forbidden Creativity?" 

"No one." Princey injected before Logic had a chance to answer, quick and tense. "He’s no one."

“He sure looks like someone…” Thomas said, looking at the screen. He didn't notice that Princey glared at Anxiety, like ‘You better not tell him’ look. Anxiety gave him an ‘I’m not going to’ look in response. 

Logic sighed as he looked at Princey and Anxiety. “Remus is your ‘Forbidden Creativity’. He is, for lack of a better term, Princey´s twin.” Logic said, fixing his glasses. “Teach!” Princey and Anxiety yelled at Logic but the smart side didn't pay them any mind.

“Princey has a twin?” Thomas asked, wide eyed. 

Logic nodded, pleased that Thomas was listening. “As a child, your creativity split in two as you began to understand what constitutes ‘good’ and ‘bad’, as taught by your parents, resulting in two different creativities.”

Thomas hummed, taking in this new information silently for a moment as he examined the moustached side on the screen.

“Is there a reason why that happened?” asked Thomas, getting interested. Logic shrugged. “It just happened, that's all we know.”

Thomas nodded, knowing that's as good as he was going to get. He pressed play on the video, curious about this ‘other Creativity’. This Duke.

Video Thomas sighed again. “Everyone has given their thoughts on the past five years of the series. Do you have any thoughts you'd like to add, he asked knowing he’d regret it?”

Remus nodded. “Oh, you mean the three episodes that I was in? Oh they were fine.” Remus replied. “Nothing like what’s coming up...”

“Uh, what?” Thomas and Video Thomas echoed at the same time.

“Oh honey!” Remus chuckled. A yellow gloved hand appeared onscreen with a squirt bottle, labelled ‘Anti Spoiler Spray’. It seemed to be Janus about to intervene. “You've got a big storm coming-!” Remus started to continue but was interrupted by the squirt bottle spraying a clear liquid onto him. "AH! SOAP!" Remus yelled in pain, wiping the substance off of his face. “Sheesh! You couldn’t just tell me to stop?! Kill a guy for being excited, why don't you?!” Remus’s grimace morphed into an unhinged grin. “Really, why don’t you?” He brandished a knife.

Thomas accidentally hit pause when he jumped and yelled, “Knife!” 

Anxiety didn’t look as surprising or panicked as the others. “That’s a normal thing.” he said, his arms crossed. Everyone looked at him like he said something strange or said a dead language. “What? I’ve lived with him for years.”

“Are you okay?” Thomas asked, concerned.  Anxiety nodded and leaned back. “I’m good. We can continue if you guys want.”

Thomas nodded and hit play.

The next scene was Roman, who was reading a book titled 'What Voltaire Did to Rousseau'. "Mhm. Okay. Alright, so he was insulting me." Roman said, lowering his book. “That’s just, that, why- hmhmhmhm,” He chuckled without humour, "I hate that guy."

Patton came up on the screen, he seemed to be trying to think of something. "A favourite memory from the show? That-that is just so hard! There have been so! many! wonderful moments with everyone!” Patton gushed, grinning. “Sure, even Janus and I have been getting closer. The other day, he gave me half his sandwich!”

Janus appeared and said, “I mistook him for a garbage can...” He gave a guilty grimace.

Thomas paused the video to look at Morality with a raised eyebrow.

“If he’s saying that I ate a food that was just left out, that's something that I do.” Morality stated factually. “Even if it’s thrown at me.”

With nothing more to say to that, the video continued.

Logan appeared holding a larger wine glass. "Quite a lot has changed these past years. Not only with you learning about Janus's and Remus's existence but also in how we conduct our day to day. Some examples being us, generally, talking to each other more respectfully, and leaving behind past toxic behaviours." 

Video Thomas nodded in agreement.

When the shot returned to Logan, he continued, "'Course there's still work to be done on that front. The talking may be there but the listening is another story." He ends his statement with a sip of his drink.

“I am listened to, right?” Logic asked worriedly, looking at Thomas. 

The host nodded. “Sure you are.” Thomas smiled at him reassuringly. 

Their heads turned back to the screen.

Remus was pouting as he mimicked, probably the fanders, "Oh boo hoo! The others used to be mean to each other!" He was quick to drop the act. "Do you know how bored I was before you decided to confront me?!" Remus exclaimed, pointing at himself. “All I did was walk around and look for stuff in your head to f*** with!”

Video Thomas just sighed with resignation, clearly used to or expecting Remus to behave like this.

Remus smirked as he told Video Thomas that he found a place called ‘Mind Palace’ while waiting for his turn to be confronted. Remus exclaimed, “Big echoey place! I can’t believe that you decided to ditch it after one episode! So wasteful!”

There was a clip on the side of a room. It was a big room that didn't have padding, so Remus’ claims that it echoed made sense.

Video Thomas Looked offended like he was going to say something back at him, but failed to find words to counter Remus’s claim before the scene cut to Janus.

“There actually was one amazing perk to not being in the spotlight for a while." Janus smirked mischievously. "Any time they all left to deal with a stubbed emotional toe, Remus and I had the opportunity to indulge ourselves in something truly devious." He put his finger tips together in a villainous pose, grinning menacingly.

Thomas paused with a frown, concerned. "Like… bad?" he asked the others.  Logic, Princey, and Morality looked nervous as Anxiety sighed, repressing an unwanted smile, "Just watch."

The next scene showed two pairs of black shoes, one smart dress shoes with yellow socks, while the other wore black belted booties. Both were enthusiastically playing DDR.

Thomas and the Sides laughed loudly when they realised what they were seeing.

The two side’s game was halted when Patton’s disembodied voice cut in off screen, yelling “Heading back to my room for a sec guys, forgot my pants!” They ran off with harsh hisses of “Get out! Get out!”

“My DDR?!” Morality exclaimed. “And- my pants?”

The video cut to Patton. “That’s who was using my DDR?” He exclaimed, clearly shocked. "I thought it was a ghost!"

Morality was still in shock as well. “I thought so as well! And why didn’t I have pants on?” Morality asked, looking at the others. Everyone shrugged, lacking the context for that, and continued to watch.

Remus was on screen now and is looking towards the bottom corner, the area with text. “Oh hell yeah! You got my nickname down there?!” Remus yelled excitedly. 

Thomas looked at where Remus was looking at.

‘Remus Sanders’

‘AKA Dukey’

“-like Princey!” Remus laughed and did a hand flick. “Classic!”

Thomas was confused by what he missed from what Remus said, but he continued to watch, not wanting to rewind and disrupt.

Roman was looking in the corner that displayed his name. “W-What is that?!” he shouted, enraged.

Thomas peered at what the on-screen Creativity was looking at.

‘Roman Sanders’

‘AKA Pissy’

“Pfft, That, uh, that was Remus.” Video Thomas said, trying and failing to hold in a laugh.

Roman looked mad as he seethed, “That, mother loving moustachioed mudbug!” 

Roman regained his composure before addressing Video Thomas. “Excuse me a moment, I have to go healthily communicate my feelings with my brother!”

Roman brandished his sword and, in the process, broke the vase of flowers that was on the table with the back of the handle as he left.

Video Thomas gaped in shock. “O- Wha-”

Thomas was in shock along with the sides as he paused it. “I- What happened?” Thomas tried to process the events the video just showed. 

“I’m not sure but I’m going to find my brother!” Princey announced, getting off his seat in preparation to leave. Morality and Logic grabbed their fellow side’s arms and forced him to sit back down, shooting him reprimanding looks.

Thomas looked worried at them while Anxiety was trying to stay calm. “Let’s keep watching.” Anxiety interjected. ‘Before something happens.’ 

The host nodded and hit play, drawing the others' attention.

Virgil appeared on screen. He had just finished thinking deep and said, “I'd say communication for me is uh, better. Totally 100% able to communicate my feelings now like a champ! No problemo!”

Video Thomas didn’t look remotely convinced by what Virgil was trying to sell. “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

Virgil’s expression changed to look like he was admitting something. "Th-uh, the abstract stuff helped a lot though, y'know? Like those puppets? Yea. Surprisingly didn't hate how those were used to handle an issue"

"Oh, yeah?" Video Thomas asked, pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah."

Video Thomas leaned in, eager yet hesitant. “I was wondering… do you ever… still… ”

Virgil turns into a soft puppet form, a small felt figure, probably a sock, with two mismatched button eyes and black marker ink under the buttons. “Sometimes.”

Everyone had their jaws dropped as Thomas hit pause.

"Aw!" Morality exclaimed, putting hands over his mouth.

"How did you-?" Princey tried to get the words out.

"I don't know." Anxiety whispered, processing his future self’s behaviour. 

"Can you all… do that?" Thomas asked, pointing at the puppet.

Logic shrugged. "Of course we can, we are figments of your imagination. Though we cannot take on those puppet forms yet. We cannot shift into something that doesn’t exist without due preparation."

Thomas hummed at the answer and pressed continue. 

“I couldn’t find him!” Roman exclaimed, exasperated, as he reclaimed his seat. "Might have gone back to hiding in the walls." Whatever brother-based rant he’d been about to go on came to a halt when he peered down at the shattered remains of the red vase. Large glass pieces cleaned up and resting in a dustpan.

“...Who broke this vase?” Roman exclaimed, looking around to find who broke the vase that he himself had unknowingly broken.

“Hey! Nice callback-!” started Video Thomas as he smiled at him, but that was interrupted by Roman’s loud cutoff.

“DON’T use the word “Callback” around me!”

Video Thomas nodded with an understanding expression.

Thomas was very confused as he paused the video. The Sides were all just as baffled. “What happened?” he asked, worriedly.

“I have no clue.” Princey said, lips puckered as he tried to think of an explanation. “Bad audition maybe and still trying to get over it?”

“That could be it.” Logic said, nodding. 

‘That would make sense.’ Thomas thought as he pressed play.

When Roman stopped being overly dramatic, he returned to himself and faced the camera.

“But since we’re on the topic of performing, ” Roman said. “One thing I would like to see more of. Songs!” Then Roman started to clap. “WE! NEED! MORE! MUSICAL NUMBERS!”

Roman did jazz hands as some clips of the music numbers showed up, which got Pincey excited. “Musical numbers!” He exclaimed happily.

"As a theatre kid-"

"Theater man. I'm an adult man."

"I feel musically constipated! I mean, you know how hard it is to talk about the last five years and not make a Jason Robert Brown reference?" Roman explained and then laughed. "That's for the fellow theatre kids out there!"

"The songs are fine." Virgil said as he appeared on screen. Then he smirked. "If you don't count the Twelve Days of Christmas rewrite."

Janus was looking at his glove covered nails before turning back to Video Thomas. "Oh, yes. The songs. The musical numbers that you all break into." Janus said. "Emphasis on you all, because I have been absent from every one. I couldn't be more happy about that." Despite his words, all five of them could tell how false they were.

Virgil smirked. "Ask Janus about our song ‘Lies’." He requested.

The next scene made Thomas and the Sides jump when they saw a red faced Janus on screen. 

“IT WAS A SONG ABOUT LIES!” Janus yelled, his human side red of anger. Everyone jumped again as he continued to shout, “AND I WASN’T THERE FOR IT!”

Thomas pauses the video and everyone stares at the mad reptile character.

“Well, he looks upset.” Thomas said, surprised.

The emo was in shock. “I thought that he would be fine with it…”

“I thought that he was evil!” Creativity exclaimed.  “He’s not…” Anxiety said. “He’s just not a good friend.”

Logic was about to ask Anxiety what he meant, but the dark side put up his hoodie and curled up into a ball. Clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“Hmm! Well, I think we should move on.” Logic said.

Thomas nodded and pressed play, hoping that things wouldn't get worse.

Roman was on the screen. “Wai- hold on shut up, what did Virgil say about my Twelve Days Of Christmas rewrite?” Roman asked angrily. "This is about the Bubblegum Shrimp thing, isn't it? Look, the muse doesn't always come to visit." He explains. "I can't be expected to pump out metaphors and similes like some... simile making... thing!" Roman pointed at his mouth “SEE?!” before he continued,  "The shrimp line was a last minute addition, and I have no clue where it came from!"

Remus looks like he just remembered something. “Oh yeah, I whispered that to him in his sleep.”

“Wait- WHAT!?” Princey shouts, pointing at the screen. “Is that how I got the Dark Side Of Disney?!”

Thomas looks over to him, “Oh! That sounds interesting.”

Roman waved his hands to cool himself. “I need to cool off!” Roman said, calming down a bit. “Switching topics! If this is our little ‘cast special’, shouldn’t we talk about the newest addition to our cast?”

"Newest addition?" Video Thomas asked.

“Thomas...” Roman whispered but then he got louder as he continued, "I'm talking about Nicooooooo~!!!!"

"Nico?" Thomas and the Sides jinxed, looking at each other. They looked back at the screen in hopes of an explanation.

"Oh gosh! Roman!" Video Thomas blushes hard, covering his face with his hands. 

There were a few animated clips of a man with glasses alongside Video Thomas. A handsome man to be exact. 

Thomas stares for a second, but he reminds himself that he’s already with someone.

Roman smiles at Video Thomas. "Ey, come on Thomas!" He exclaimed. "Hey, I know I'm getting along a little better with Scareamore, but he needs to let me speed things up a bit, alright? We should be on, like, a millionth base with Nico already!"

Virgil looked so done and confused. "Yea pff, a millionth base, ok what is that?" He asked, exasperated. "Space marriage officiated by Gandolf and ****ing Dumbledore?”

“That’s exactly what it is.” Roman said, amazed and unexpected. “Wow! He got like, right on the money.”

“That’s true.” Princey said, surprised. He looked at Anxiety. “How did you know?” 

Anxiety shrugged. “I have no clue,” he answered. “Really, I don’t.”

They looked back at the screen.

Patton looked like he remembered someone as he giggled. “Oh yeah, Nico!” Patton exclaimed then he trailed off. "He, he seems… nice… looking forward to getting to know him!"

"Why do I sound so unsure?" Morality asked. "And who IS this Nico?"

Thomas nodded, trying to remember if he knows a Nico. 

He got nothing. 

"Yeah. I don't know who this Nico is." Thomas said after a moment. "Also! I'm already with someone."

All the sides nodded.

Logan appears to be considering the new topic.

"I am intrigued to know what his interests may consist of.” Logan explained. "Maybe math, sports, Metal Viking- sorry! Viking Metal.”

“Isn’t that what Talyin enjoys?” Logic asked.

Thomas nodded. “They do enjoy that,” he said. “Maybe they showed us a song that they enjoy and we end up liking it.”

Logic hummed and nodded.

Virgil adjusted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "Okay. You know, can I be honest about something?" Virgil said, uncomfortable. "I know that we've all moved past it, but that time we were still pretending to be straight, and you all were flirting with a fake Valerie? Still haunts me..."

Thomas paused the video and looked at Anxiety.

“What, does Valerie make you uncomfortable?”  Thomas asked, worriedly.

The emo shook his head. “No… it's just us not being…” Anxiety didn’t finish that sentence because everyone knew the answer. 

Thomas noticed that Anxiety didn't like this topic. 

“That’s understandable.” he said, pressing to continue.

They saw a clip of everyone talking, possibly flirting, to Valerie appears in the corner.

Video Thomas chuckled. 

"Well, I think that I was going for more like a sexually ambiguous, uh, it wasn't that bad." Video Thomas said. He started to laugh but then stopped short at the lack of reaction from off screen. "...Right?"

Patton appears, grimacing in distaste.

Logan, who is holding a GIGANTIC wine glass, sighs. "Not our most feminist moment." He said before taking a sip.

"I thought about it every day." Virgil said, very tense.

"Okay well, we'll make better memories and we'll forget about it eventually, hopefully.” Video Thomas said.

Virgil shakes his head, clearly not believing Video Thomas.

Thomas hums and pauses the video to hear the others' response. 

Logic and Morality are too uncomfortable to speak.

"Were they talking about the few Vines that we did with Valerie? Or will that be in the future?" Princey asked. "Because we’ve done a few Vines with girls before and didn’t Thomas date one-"

“PRINCEY! I’M GOING TO STOP YOU RIGHT THERE!” Anxiety shouted, his voice booming off the walls and causing everyone to jump. “IF YOU KEEP GOING, I’LL GET YOUR BROTHER’S MACE AND-!” 

A soft saxophone playing a creepy tune interrupts him. All the sides’ eyes widen at the tune growing louder, louder, louder.

“I MEAN MORNING STAR!” Anxiety shouted over the tune. Then he cleared his throat, his voice going back to normal, “I mean your brother’s morning star, Princey.”

Then the saxophone playing the creepy tune faded away, which calmed the room as it left. 

Princey smiled nervously and said, “I’ll not talk about it then.” He looked at Thomas. “May we continue, please?”

Thomas nodded and pressed play, ‘What just happened?’ he thought, concernedly.

Patton smiled and pointed offscreen at Video Thomas.

“If we are talking new memories, then maybe when you get a puppy? Like a real puppy? That will be my favourite moment!” Patton exclaimed happily.

A clip of Patton holding a puppy in his hoodie and Roman holding two of the adorable things pops up in the corner, both sides clearly happy to hold them.

The seated Patton looked like he’s on the verge of tears. “Ooh… I miss having a pet.”

It then cuts to Janus who is looking decidedly annoyed.

“Why does everyone care so much about what happened to Sacagawea the Hamster?!” Janus exclaimed angrily. Then he looked at the camera and said, “Folks, she’s gone. She mysteriously disappeared and no one has a clue where she went.”

Then he points at the top of his head with his left pointer finger and his other finger over his mouth. “Shh.”

Video Thomas looked at Janus and at his hat. “Are you implying that she’s under your hat?” he asked.

“No, I’m implying that you all use your brains.” Janus explained, still pointing at the top of his head. “She’s gone!” Then Janus tries not to smile.

Thomas started to notice something. “Wait, where is Sacagawea the Hamster?” Thomas asked, his eyes widened as he pressed pause. Anxiety smiled. “Should I go after Deceit and see if she’s under his hat?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Maybe later.” Thomas said as he unpaused the video.

Video Thomas leaned back a bit as he said, “I know that we had a lot of successes in the past five years,” then he leaned forward, “but do you have any regrets?” Video Thomas almost slipped when he leaned too forward.

Virgil was looking up as he was thinking.

“Do I have any regrets? Hmm?” Virgil asked himself. Then he got a scroll out and let the bottom part out to show a LONG list. “Do you want me to go alphabetically or-”

Roman looked surprised. 

“What? Me? Regret?” he asked, putting a hand on himself. Then he started to laugh but then stopped as he picked up a photo. 

It was a wedding cake.

“I have one regret…” Roman said, putting a hand on the photo.

Video Thomas looked at the photo, confused. 

“Wait, that doesn’t look like Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding.” Video Thomas said.  “Did you print out a stock image?”

Everyone jumped when an angry Roman shouted, “You didn’t take any photos!” Then Roman points at the photo as he continues, “I needed something to look upon whilst I lament!”

“Is that the reason for the ‘Don’t use the call back’ thing?” Princey asked, confused. “A wedding?”

Everyone shrugged. 

“Could be.” Logic replied. “We don’t know until it happens.”

Logan appeared onscreen.

“I do regret throwing that paper at puppet Roman.” Logan said after a moment. 

A clip of Logan throwing a piece of paper at a puppet Roman and the puppet covered his eye that the paper hit.

“It was immature of me.” Logan continued, looking not so proud of himself.

The scene cuts back to Roman. 

“Oh! I wish that I had thrown paper at Logan first!” Roman said excitedly. “That would have been sweet!”

Patton had a questionable look on his face.

“Regrets? Oh, I have a few,” Patton said, admitting, “like not sharing my feelings with the others, especially when I was sad.”

A clip of the sides in the living room but it was lighter and the clip of Patton, looking sad, at his spot, that showed bed curtains instead of white blinds.

“We could have had so many boys' nights.” Patton said, almost sad. Then he gasped, “With ice cream!”

Mortality nodded. “Yeah… That is true…” he said quietly. Anxiety looked at him and gave an awkward hug. Mortality smiled softly at him and hugged him back. “I’m okay, kiddo.” he reassured him.

They continued to watch after the hug.

Virgil was reading off of the list, “I also regret starting Logan off on that whole falsehood bit.”

A clip of Logan shouting, “FALSEHOOD!!!”

That made everyone jump.

Remus was drinking the ‘Anti Spoiler Spray’. When he was done, he was having an allergic reaction.

“Regrets?” he asked horsley, scratching at his neck fast.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked you that question,” Video Thomas said, “my bad.”

Then the screen cut back to Virgil, who was still reading off of the list.

Virgil started, “Also the-” then he started to gag but continued, “boiled carrots.”

A clip of Nico holding a fast food bag that has the name King Karrots and giving it to Video Thomas. 

Maybe that’s how they will meet or it’s a date?

Patton appeared on the screen again. Excpt with the cardigan on his shoulders instead of the cat hoodie.

“Gosh, one huge regret I have is,” Patton started, but then his voice changed to the voice of Janus, “a lack of attention… to detail.”

Video Thomas was almost caught off guard.

“Oh, Janus!” Video Thomas said with a smile. “Don’t be so tough on yourself.”

Janus, who was still disguised as Patton, changed the cardigan to the cat hoodie on his shoulders.

“No, it’s alright.” Janus said reassuringly, a smile on his face. “I’ve grown.”

Video Thomas’ smile faded away as he said, “Oh… great…”

Anxiety pointing at the screen, smiling.

“I called it!” Anxiety shouted. “I knew that it was Deceit!” 

Everyone looked at him. “What?” Anxiety asked. “I’ve known him for years too.”

Thomas nodded. “Okay.” he said.

Everyone was quiet as they looked back at the screen as the video continued.

Then it was Virgil's turn, who was still on the list. 

"And lastly, yeah, yeah. Achieving consciousness." Virgil said, putting the scroll away. "That was a big one."

Everyone looked at Anxiety as he said, “It's a long story. Let’s just watch the video.”

Roman sighed.

“It’s amazing how much has changed in five years. I’d like to think that I’ve grown…” the prince on screen said, almost sounding sad. “It’s been nice getting to know each other better, at least. Like Patton… and Logan… and Virgil.” Roman sounded happier when he said Virgil’s name.

Patton looked like a proud dad.

“Virgil has come a long way.” the fatherly side said proudly, smiling. “I hope he knows how much we love him.”

Logan looked somewhat proud of Virgil.

“We couldn’t function without him,” the teacher on the screen said, "as we saw."

The next scene showed Logan yelling “Think fast!” and throwing a laptop at Video Thomas, who had a gray hoodie up and was unbothered by the hit. Patton and Roman were shocked by Video Thomas not being bothered with being hit. “That really hurt.” Video Thomas said, smiling.

“Can that happen?” Anxiety asked, surprised. “I guess it can.” Logic replied, sounding shocked. 

'I guess Anxiety is good.' Thomas said, humming. 'And without Anxiety, I would be just chill that I wouldn't know what would hurt me or not. Like in the video.'

Virgil looked a bit uncomfortable. 

“Oh. Gross.” the emo on the screen said. “I don’t know what I'm supposed to say to that," Then Virgil looked away as he continued, "I guess it's nice to know that they think they feel that way."

Thomas was taken back and looked at Anxiety. 

The emo looked confused.

Thomas looked back at the screen when he heard Patton awning something.

“We’re like a big family!” Patton exclaimed happily and then he pointed at himself. "And I'm the dad! And Logan's the mom!"

Then Logan appeared on the screen with a wine bottle with glass on top of it. "Why am I the mom?" Logan asked confusedly. "What gender roles are we pushing here?"

Thomas noticed that there were words on the bottle. It reads "Finally a wine glass that fits my needs."

Then he hears Logic asking Morality, "Do you really see me as the mom?"

Morality explained, "You act like a mom who sometimes likes juice." 

Virgil looked not convinced.

"I know they're probably thinking I'm like the son, but I'm not." Virgil said, pointing at Video Thomas. Then he points to the side. "I'll be the gay emo cousin."

Then Roman appeared, pointing at himself.

"I'll be the son!" Roman exclaimed. "The hotshot, whose dream is to be… a star…" Roman sounded sad at the end.

Thomas looked at the sides.

Princy had a sad face and Anxiety looked mortified. 

“I’m not going to ask,” Thomas said, “because the looks on both of your faces say it all.”

Remus was shrugging as he said, "I feel like I'd be a fresh outta jail uncle."

Janus had a wine glass. 

"And I'm the sassy aunt, who talks **** about everyone." He said before sipping his glass.

Thomas hummed as he pressed pause to hear what the side's commitments were going to be.

Anxiety hummed. "Deceit and Duke sound like them." 

Everyone nodded.

Thomas pressed continue.

Video Thomas laughed for a moment. "I know this is a pretty intense question to ask," he started. Then he leaned forward with a serious look on his face. "What do you think will be next for us?"

Thomas and his Sides were on the edge of their seats as they watched the screen.

Logan had his arms crossed his chest. "You tell me."

Roman looked like it was a joke.

"We seal the deal with Nico and we live happily ever after." He said, laughing softly. "It's simple."

Patton had a lot on his mind.

"I think things are just going to keep getting better, right? " Patton said, looking at Video Thomas. "If we keep communicating."

Virgil shrugged and smiled a smug smile.

"Probably something that I'm going to hate." Virgil said openly.

"Oh, who's to say, heartbreak, betrayal." Janus said, listing the things that can happen. "You won't be bored, I can tell you that."

‘I don't know if I should be excited or worried.’ Thomas thought nervously.

Remus had a comforting and softer look.

"And I shall be learning to better receive acceptance and praise.” Remus said, sounding innocent.

That touched Thomas and his video self.

“Wow, Remus.” Video Thomas said, putting both hands over his heart. He was smiling at him like proud.  “That sounds healthy and productive.” 

“Thank you.” Remus said, nodding to him. But then the feeling of uncomfort and his voice changed back to his normal tone and said, “Excpt Acceptance and Praise are the names of my-”

An air horn blares loudly, causing Thomas and the others to scream. Thomas pressed pause and looked around to see what made the sound. 

Anxiety was holding the air horn. “You don’t want to know, Sanders.” he said threatenly. 

The host nodded slowly and pressed play.

For a moment, Remus was holding two things that were censored.

"Okay!" Video Thomas exclaimed, probably to stop Remus saying anymore. 

Then he looked at the camera. "And that's my cue to wrap this up." he said, smiling before looking offscreen. "Thank you for talking with me, guys. I seriously don't know where I'd be without you."

Thomas felt happy from his future self saying those words.

"There's not much else to say except," Video Thomas continued, smiling and opened his arms out to the Sides, "Happy 5th anniversary!"

"Happy 5th anniversary!" The Sides on the screen exclaimed while Remus said something else. 

All that Thomas heard that Remus said was "-ick surgeries!"

The others looked confused and looked at Remus as The dark creativity on screen  asked, "What did everyone else say?"

"I guess I should not know, right?" Thomas chuckled confusedly.

The four sides nodded. “It’s best not to.” Anxiety said somewhat happily.

The camera was in front of Video Thomas, smiling big. 

"So yeah, a special might look a little something like that!" Video Thomas explains. "A walk down memory lane, saturated with too many self-referential jokes and anecdotes that would surely ostracise any non-fan watching." 

Thomas chuckled softly. He knew that not everyone would like the series but he wanted to share this series. He hoped that his Sides knew that too. 

Video Thomas sighed, "But we really have gone through so many changes. I mean, heck, compare Logan's behaviour at the start of the series to now-" then he stopped himself. "Sorry, nope. Done with the self-referential anecdotes."

"Yeah. I'm wondering what happened to everyone." Logic said. He sounded concerned.

Everyone nodded. 

"Well, we do change and learn." Thomas said softly.

Video Thomas continued, "I guess what it's got me thinking is how will they change in the years to come? How will they grow? How will I grow? How will any of us grow?" Video Thomas paused for a moment. "Of course there's no knowing how we're growing. All we can do is keep an open mind and open heart. And keep on checking in with ourselves.”

Thomas and the sides leaned in because of the expense of the pause.

Video Thomas smiled softly as he continued, "Because we still might not know if we know ourselves as well as we could."

That left an imprint in Thomas and the Sides. 'That’s good to know.' Thomas thought happily.

"Aw!" Morality cooed softly. 

"He does have a point." Anxiety and Logic said union, pointing at the screen.

"We'll be ready for it!" Princey said, raising his sword. Logic moved his arm, so it didn't get cut. 

Video Thomas smiled at the camera as he said, "Take it easy guys, gals, and non-binary pals!"

"Peace out!" Thomas said with Video Thomas. The Sides chuckled softly as he did that.

Thomas couldn't help himself, he just enjoys saying it.

The screen on the computer was black for a moment before it showed a sky full of stars appeared on screen along with a few words.

"Would you like to escape to a wonderful world?" An announcer, who almost sounded like Roman, said, reading the words on screen.

Soft magical music played as an animation played and a boot appeared on screen. Then it shows a man in a red vest, who's probably being played by Thomas, walking through the woods. 

"With heros, villains, and more to unfurl?"

It showed a different character with purple hair, who was NOT being played by Thomas, was singing a tune before looking at the character while the character looked back at him.

"Ridiculous battles and super cool magic. Perhaps dare I say something angsty and tragic?"

The two characters looked at each other and raised their swords.

"Prepare yourself for" the narrator said and paused supper effects.

Both characters were on top of a some sort of monster as they slay it with their swords. A burst of light flashed on screen when they slayed and the title appeared:

“Roleslaying with Roman”

The next shot showed a paper character of the red vest person on a board game. Then a 12-sided dice rolled on screen as the scene ended. 

Princey gave a fangirl scream, making everyone in the room cover their own ears. “I get my own series!” he yelled excitedly. 

“Yes… You do.” everyone said, staring at him in surprise. The Sides talked about what they saw. One of the things was, “I like the purple guy’s hair.”

Thomas couldn’t help but think about the purple hair character. ‘Why does that character remind me of Terrance?’

They all look back at the screen when Video Thomas, who was wearing a different shirt, popped up on screen.

“Hope that you all enjoyed that trailer, ‘cause I’m excited. ” Video Thomas said, smiling big. “I don’t know why I added that, but I was excited!” he laughed with some people offscreen.

The end card came up as Video  Thomas continued, “And I hope that you enjoyed this video!” Then he talked about the writer’s room about the script of this with the jokes and stuff. 

He asked if anyone was interested in joining the writer’s room to check it out at Patreon. He also mentions a calendar based on the Sander Sides.

A hand did pop up a few when Video Thomas said ‘hand’, which was funny.

Thomas and the sides were very confused about this Patreon thing.

“What is Patreon?” Thomas asked. The sides shrugged.

“Alright, that’s enough announcements.” Video Thomas said, happily. “I’ll let you go. Thank you again for every bit of support that you have provided these past five years. I love you all so much! I’ve said ‘goodbye’ enough. Bye” 

Video Thomas sank out of screen.

Then he popped back up again and said, “and that last ‘goodbye’ doesn’t count.” and then he went back down again.

“Well, that was interesting.” Thomas chuckled softly. 

The sides nodded. “Agreed.”

Thomas was about to close the laptop but stopped when he heard scary music being played from it. 

He opened it back up again.

Thomas looked at the screen with the Sides as the screen showed an unremarkable orange sitting on the chair. 

‘What-?’ Thomas thought confusedly but it was interrupted by Anxiety screaming. 

And the next thing Thomas knew was that Anxiety was running from Princey, who had his sword out.

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!" Princey shouted at Anxiety while the emo ran, screaming more.

Mortality ran after them. Thomas was very confused as Logic continued to sit next to him, rubbing his forehead. "...I need a drink." Thomas and Logic bemoaned.

○

In the morning, Joan and Talyn walked into the apartment to find Thomas on the couch, passed out. They went to make sure that he's okay and not dead. 

He's good and alive, but far from sober.

Joan and Talyn looked at each other. “You take him to his room and I look at the laptop to see if anything is messed up.” Talyn said quickly before Joan said anything. “Why me?” Joan asked, looking at them as they walked to the couch. 

“Have you seen how BIG he is compared to me?” Talyn asked with some sass, picking up the laptop. 

“Good point.” Joan replied, pointing at them. They picked Thomas up and started to get an arm around their shoulder. "I got you buddy."  They said as they walked him up the stairs.

“More than four sides...” Thomas mumbled as they walked up the stairs. “For what? Sanders sides?” Joan asked, looking at him. Thomas nodded with a smile. “YEAH!” he shouted. Joan winched at that, which made Thomas frowned.

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay, Thomas.” Joan reassured him as they got into Thomas’ room. Thomas listed some things for the show while Joan listened to him as they got him to bed.

Joan got Thomas to bed and went to get water and medicine for him. Joan puts the objects on the bedside table, Thomas smiles at them.

“You’re a good friend.” Thomas said before going to sleep.

Joan chuckled and smiled softly. ”You’re a good friend too.” they said, as they left the room.

Joan started to think about what Thomas said as they walked back to Talyn. ‘Maybe. We could do that.’ they thought, a smile growing on their face.

▪▪▪

Author's note: Happy Anniversary of Sanders Sides!

[starshapedkookie]

Southpaw

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

“Yeah?” You respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coke as well,” Taehyung says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, do you need any—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home?” She asks, “Thank god.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, thanks again.”

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm,” you mumble.

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

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

He nods slowly before a silence falls between you two.

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

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

The question catches you off guard.

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

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

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

“Sure,” you answer simply.

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Who is that?” Jennie asks you.

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

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

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

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

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

Jennie’s eyes widen. “What?”

“I know right,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he smiles.

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

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

“You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better than I thought,” you answer honestly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Most definitely not,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whose that?” He asks.

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

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

Your face drops and you don’t say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are majoring in now?”

“Photography and film,” he answers boldly.

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

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

“How’s Taehyung?” You ask him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” You press.

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t say anything so he continues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks taken aback, “W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’m a distraction now?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, you’re my oldest friend—“

“You don’t treat me like it—“

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

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

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

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

“Why did you kiss me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?” You mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whoa, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Okay?” You say slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What no—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you told anyone?” You ask him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it?” She somewhat frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm,” Jennie shrugged, “Interesting.”

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, “Probably not, why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a nod, “See you soon.”

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right… thanks Mark.”

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

“Yeah, yeah, read your fucking book.”

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[9:46 PM Namjoon] hey, wrud tonight

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

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

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

You laugh at your phone.

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

“Jungkook! Fuck yes my brother!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jennie here?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you’re drunk, you don’t need—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-why? Who would want—“

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook you’ve got to be joking.”

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

“Okay? And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head slowly, “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I’m gonna—“

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

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

You nod, “Yeah, we should.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve driven high before it’s not—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

You had no idea.

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

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Taehyung appears to your left and you jump.

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

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

You nod slowly, “Alright, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile to him, “You too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? No Y/N—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sure hoped he was right.

_____

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

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

“What do you mean?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pull away quickly from him. What the fuck?

“You okay?” He asks with concern.

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

“Alright, I’ll be by the bar.”

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming right up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask.

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

“He mentioned it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your girlfriend?” You probe curiously.

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

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

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

Did Jungkook really talk about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[You 4:02 PM] Nope

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She should be on Jungkook’s list.”

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

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

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

“Holy shit,” Taehyung says.

“What?” You get nervous by his tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you say shyly.

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

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

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

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

“I’ll get some seats.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My bet’s on Jeon,” a voice says.

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

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

“Hey, everything good?” He asks.

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

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

“Welcome, welcome!” He beams with a smile, “What an outstanding turnout we have tonight! You guys choose a good one to watch because tonight is the rematch of two of the best fighters I’ve seen in a long time…”

“Let’s give a welcome to our first fighter, weighing in at 148 pounds, 5 foot 11, Jeon Jungkook!”

Being an underground fighting ring, there isn’t a posse escorting Jungkook to the ring. He’s got Jimin by his left side, Min Yoongi on the right. Jungkook is shirtless, wearing only a pair of navy shorts, black and white boxing gloves on his hands. He enters the ring with cheers and you inhale and exhale deeply. You look up at Taehyung and he gives you a nod of reassurance to calm down. Jungkook jumps around in place a few times, shaking his arms and shoulders out. From your seat, you can’t read his eyes or facial expression—but he looks calm and unnerved.

“Coming in next, weighing in at 145 pounds, 6 feet tall, Kim Eric!”

Jungkook’s opponent walks in next, three guys surrounding him. He walks slow and steady, his bare chest tattooed beautifully, his boxing gloves a dark red. He enters the ring to cheers and this Eric guy’s gaze doesn’t leave Jungkook’s body one time. Jungkook hasn’t spared one glance at the guy and you find yourself somewhat smiling. Jungkook has always been a cocky-fuck when it’s come to sports which would usually annoy you, but here right now—he looked hot as fuck standing there as if he had no care in the world. Jungkook stands on the left corner of the ring, sitting on a small stool as Jimin and Yoongi talk to him. Jungkook nods, absorbing their information. Eric and his guys do the same.

Suddenly, both men stand and Jimin is putting a mouth guard in Jungkook’s mouth and with one last nod, he finally looks over at Eric, who has already made his way to the center of the ring with the announcer. Jungkook stalks over slowly, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Alright guys, I want a clean fight. No kicking, no cheap shots. If you get knocked down, I give you ten seconds to get up. You look me in the eyes and say you’re good before anymore fighting happens alright. We go for five rounds, unless more is needed. A knockout wins. Touch gloves.”

Jungkook sticks out his gloves for Eric but Eric only stares at him, ignoring the sign of solidarity.

“Fuck you,” Eric says to Jungkook and sends a chill down your spine. Jungkook rolls his eyes, backing away from him, but stays silent.

“Alright… ready… fight!”

Time slows as a bell rings loudly, the cheers get even louder, and you find yourself gripping Taehyung’s arm for support. Jungkook starts to move around the ring slowly, but Eric isn’t having that—immediately rushing to Jungkook to get a few jabs in. Jungkook manages to dodge them perfectly before Eric can corner him. Jungkook keeps his gloves high and never looks away from Eric. Eric comes after Jungkook again, jabbing once—twice—the third time hitting Jungkook square in the face.

“Shit,” you breathe out, eyes widening.

This time, Jungkook comes for Eric, his jabs coming quick and calculated, landing Eric in the body once. Jungkook jabs again and hits him in the face. Eric moves around quickly, Jungkook not quick to follow him. Eric comes after him again, Jungkook blocking his jabs, but missing at the end, leading to Jungkook getting hit in the face once again as well as a body shot.

Eric is coming in hot, throwing punches and jabs left and right, making Jungkook dance around to dodge them. After a few moments, Jungkook begins to fight back, landing Eric square in the face twice. You notice that Jungkook must have busted Eric’s lip as blood now protrudes from his mouth. This seems to send Eric into overdrive and attacks Jungkook quick and fast. You cover your mouth when Eric has Jungkook trapped against the rope, landing body punches after body punches.

“Alright!! Enough, break it up!!” The announcer gets Eric off of Jungkook and Eric starts to laugh in a very showman's way. Jungkook is breathing heavy and he tilts his head—a habit of his that comes out when he’s frustrated or angry. This seems to be both.

Jungkook and Eric continue to throw jabs at one another. Within a few seconds, the whole fight seems to change as Eric manages to slip past one of Jungkook’s blocks and lands him straight on the cheekbone. Jungkook’s body almost freezes before he falls back on the floor and you gasp at the sight.

“Fuck! Taehyung—“

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” he says but his eyes never met yours.

The announcer is on the floor with Jungkook counting down from ten and Jungkook finally sits up when he reaches the number four.

“You good son?” The guy asks Jungkook.

He nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jungkook gets up and walks around, stretching his neck around, waiting for the ref to announce the second round.

“That’s what you get motherfucker,” Eric says walking past him to his corner. Again, Jungkook says nothing before sitting down. Jimin takes out his mouth guard and lets Jungkook drink some water.

“Why is Jungkook letting him hit him like that?!” You ask Taehyung, looking up to him, “He’s getting his ass kicked!”

Taehyung shakes his head, “Jungkook’s smart Y/N… he’s trying to run Eric’s energy out. If Eric keeps swinging the way he right now, he’ll be passed out on his own soon.”

The second round commences and this time, it’s Jungkook who comes out fast. Jungkook soon has Eric trapped against the rope, landing jab after jab. The ref intervenes and lets them get some air. Jungkook’s skin is sweaty and red hot and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look as mad as he does right now.

Eric counters quickly, catching up with Jungkook again, landing punch after punch. Jungkook escapes but Eric sticks out a foot, causing Jungkook to trip. The whole crowd—yourself included—start to yell at the action. The referee pulls Eric back and points his finger at him. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know it’s a scolding by the way his mouth is moving quickly. You look over at Jungkook who shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s talking to Jimin as Yoongi cares to a cut on Jungkook’s eyebrow.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” you make out Jungkook saying.

The third round starts and it seems both Eric and Jungkook are equally fighting this time. Jungkook’s combinations are cleaner than Eric’s, anyone can see that, but the way Eric keeps landing in on Jungkook—makes you feel like this isn’t going to end well for him.

“Come on Jungkook!” You find yourself yelling in the chaos, your whole body shaking as Jungkook dances around the ring to get away from Eric. Eric has him trapped again, but with Jungkook’s strength, gets Eric off of him to turn the tables. There’s sweat and blood coming off both fighters and it’s got to be the most horrifying thing you’ve ever seen.

“Come on you little bitch,” Eric spits at Jungkook, “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Jungkook says nothing again, jabbing when he needs to.

“Fucking hell why won’t you speak to me you fucker?” Eric speaks again.

“I don’t have shit to say to you,” Jungkook finally retorts back. “You lost my respect when you sent those pussies to jump Park and I.”

Eric swings hard and Jungkook ducks, barely missing it by an inch. Eric is tired, Jungkook too, but Jungkook can see a weakness in him now.

“Come on it was all in good fun,” he says with a smirk, “You know what else would be good fun?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

“Kicking your ass,” he pauses and before Jungkook can do anything else, Eric swings down hard, landing on Jungkook’s body knocking the breath out of him. Jungkook stumbles backwards, holding his stomach, he lands again on the ground with a clunk. Eric stands over him, before taking out his mouthpiece, “And stealing your bitch you invited tonight.”

“Goddammit,” you mutter watching the scene unfold in front of you. No one knows what they’re saying to each other over the noise and you honestly couldn’t care. You just want Jungkook to get up and finish this shit.

Jungkook stands up, though with a visible wince in his face. He’s breathing heavy and is filled with pure rage. The fourth bell rings and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to attack him. Jungkook is fast and furious, landing punch after punch and you’ve never been happier for someone to get their ass kicked. Jungkook lands a punch straight across the face, causing Eric to stumble backwards. Even though you know nothing about boxing, Eric looks exhausted where Jungkook looks ready for more. With everything left in Eric, he starts coming after Jungkook. Jungkook blocks until he can’t block no more, but something in Jungkook’s stance changes. Jungkook steps forward, his right hand landing straight on Eric’s face cause his form to break. Jungkook steps quickly again, his left hand bringing an uppercut to Eric’s jaw.

The room nearly falls silent as Eric loses balance, going down straight on his back and head. When he hits the ground, the room erupts in a roar so loud it nearly deafens you.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. The ref is down on the ground, counting down from 10, and then it’s at 5 and then 3 and then—

“Ladies and gentlemen, Jeon Jungkook wins this rematch!” The ref grabs Jungkook’s hand and holds it up over his head and you find yourself jumping up and down, pulling Taehyung down for a hug.

“Taehyung oh my fucking god!” You exclaim. He smiles brightly at you.

“I told you, he knows what he’s doing,” he says and you nod. You couldn’t deny it now—as stupid as Jungkook was for getting involved in this, his talent for the sport was extraordinary. “Come on, let’s get to his locker room,” Taehyung pulls you by your hand and you make your way back to where you were earlier.

Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet, but you find Yoongi already in there, setting out a first aid kit.

“Hey guys,” he says, “Great fight, huh?”

“Yeah, it was brilliant,” Taehyung says. The door opening catches your attention and Jungkook walks through with Jimin.  Your eyes instantly meet and you can’t even stop yourself from running to him and throwing your arms around him. He exhales deeply with a sharp wince, returning your bone crushing grip with his own.

“Alright lovebirds, he needs to get fixed up,” Yoongi’s voice interrupts you two. You hesitantly let him go and he sits down in front of Yoongi, sitting forward on his knees. He’s still breathing heavy, dripping sweat everywhere.

“Fucking hell Jungkook, since when do you box southpaw?” Taehyung pushes his shoulder slightly and Jungkook only laughs as Yoongi wipes away the blood on his eyebrow.

“I’ve been working on it for awhile,” he says, “Just never had the right time to use it… until tonight at least,” he says giving you a glance. “Eric is all talk, no bite. I can’t fucking stand him.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be boxing him again anytime soon,” Jimin says, “He’s embarrassed himself twice now.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Yoongi chimes in, placing one of those bandaids that pull the skin together like stitches above Jungkook’s eyebrow. “No one will want to box you now knowing you can southpaw.”

Jungkook looks at you and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He said he wasn’t going to fight after this, but the way they are talking—it sounds as if he is.

“Well, I think my boxing career is probably over after tonight,” Jungkook speaks up as if he could read your mind. He tears his eyes away from you as the others look confused.

“What?!”

“Why?”

“Jungkook c’mon!”

“Guys,” he breathes out, “I made a promise, okay? Besides, I have enough money now, I don’t need anything else.”

Your features soften as you listen to his words. His promise was to you. A smile grows on your face as you watch his body calm down from his intensified state. Once Yoongi is finished, he packs everything up. The five of you talk amongst yourselves before Taehyung turns to you.

“You ready to go home?” He asks.

“I can take you home,” Jungkook says before you can answer.

“Okay,” you give him a small smile that he returns.

“Okay then, I’m gonna head out, I won’t be home tonight Jungkook,” he says.

“I know I know, at your girlfriends,” Jungkook swats his hand and Taehyung flips him off before leaving.

Jungkook stands up throwing on a shirt and slipping into Birkenstocks. “Come on,” he says to you, holding out his head. You gladly take it and it feels more like home than home ever has.

_____

“Fuck Jungkook, how much money is this?” You ask him as he hands you a white envelope as he unbuckles himself in the driver seat. The envelope is thick and you peak out of curiosity, your jaw dropping.

“I told you,” he says snatching it back from you, “As much food as I’ve bought you lately, hopefully this will last.”

You swat at his sarcastic comment before letting out a laugh. Instead of going home, you asked Jungkook to go anywhere but there. You’re parked outside of his apartment complex, which was fine with you. The two of you needed to talk. Not much talking goes on as a silence falls between you two.

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook.”

The two of you laugh as you speak at the same time.

“You first,” you say, turning your body to face him fully.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, “I know I said it earlier but I really am sorry about this past week. There’s not an excuse that justifies me acting like a complete dick to you, especially when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say.

“And when I said you’re the best part of my day… I fucking mean it. I’m sorry for coming onto you like I have, I just,” he doesn’t finish, his eyes looking everywhere but you.

“Jungkook,” you get his attention again, reaching over the console to grab his hand, “Don’t apologize for that. Yeah, you’ve been a dick each time something happens between us but that’s the apology I care about.”

“I just don’t know how to say it,” he mutters, caressing your hand gently.

“So you’re really not going to box anymore?” you inquire. Jungkook was good, more than good... it couldn’t be easy giving up on that. 

He shakes his head, “No. I told you I didn’t want you worrying about me anymore. I keep my promises,” his smile his sweet and you swear your feel yourself melting more and more into his touch. 

“Jungkook,” you let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t realize how much I needed you in my life until we became friends again. You know almost everything about me and I don’t want anyone else to ever take your place…”

It’s hanging there by a thread—the words on your tongue—and you’re not sure you can say them and they feel constricting—but you know you have to and—

“I love you,” the words come from your mouth and you feel like you could puke. “I don’t know when or why, but I’m in love with you Jungkook. You’re all I think about anymore and I don’t want anyone else when you’re right here.”

Jungkook parts his mouth, staring at you with a look you can’t read. Fuck, you fucked this up for sure.

“Shit—I know that was so rushed and stupid. Fuck I’m an idiot—“

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice interrupts you and you try to hide within your own body from embarrassment. With your hand of yours in his, he pulls on it, forcing you closer to him. You look at him wide eyed before he presses his lips against yours firmly. As usual, his lips feel so good and you melt into him. This is good right? What the hell is going on? You pull away from him after a few moments, an unsure look on your face.

He nuzzles his nose against your own before speaking, “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the night of our graduation.”

“Really?” You ask as you feel your palms sweat, heart racing.

He nods, “I’ve been in love with you for god knows how long now.”

A smile creeps upon your face and you let out a sigh of relief. Jungkook watches you with interest, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can take you home whenever,” he says quietly.

You’re quick to shake your head,  “No, it’s okay… I can stay, if you want,” your voice trails off and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze.

You don’t notice how Jungkook bites his lip but he does say, “Yeah. Of course.”

_____

Jungkook’s apartment is how you remember it, though a lot quieter without Taehyung here. You’re sure the reason Jungkook’s apartment is spotless is because of him. He has always been clean and organized and Taehyung… well he was Taehyung.

“I’m gonna get in the shower, my room is in here if you wanna chill,” Jungkook says and you give him a small nod. He rids his shirt before he even closes the bathroom door and it makes you gulp. This is new territory for the both of you. The two of you just admitted your love for one another and you’re about to spend the night with Jungkook? And not in a friend way? Jesus Christ you could be tripping.

You walk into Jungkook’s room and it smells just like him. His bed is neatly made and his desk is sprawled with two computer monitors and some notebooks from school. His walls are decorated as you’d expect—a Korean flag hanging, a ‘Saturday’s Are For The Boys’ flag—typical—and a few Beta Tae Sigma plaques scattered. What catches your eye is a wall of neatly lined photos taped to the wall. You look around at all of them with a smile. Most of them are Jungkook and his frat brothers, Taehyung, a few of his older brother, there’s even a picture of you, him, Taehyung, and Jennie from high school. One that catches your eye the most is one of just you and him. It’s an old picture but the memories from that day flood your mind. It was from your first week of freshman year here at university. Both of your smiles are wide and you two are hugging each other’s frames closely. Jennie took the picture you remember. It makes you smile to yourself, butterflies entering in your stomach. Did you love Jungkook then and didn’t know it? The way you’re looking at him in the picture would say so.

You suddenly feel an urge to be close to him again. You’ve never been a ballsy person but as you look back at the bathroom door that’s closed, your desire to be touched again by Jungkook again overwhelms your senses. Closing your eyes briefly, you don’t need much more convincing before your stripping yourself of your jacket and shoes. You kick off your jeans and sweater, leaving you only in your undergarments. You tip toe to the bathroom, grabbing the handle, opening it easy.

The shower water is loud and there’s steam in the small quarters. Jungkook is humming to himself as you start to take off the rest of your clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the shower curtain, pulling it back. Jungkook’s back is facing you but he hears you instantly.

“Shit Y/N you scar—“ he stops mid sentence as he takes in your naked frame getting in the shower too.

“Hi,” you mumble meeting his eye contact.  

“H-hey,” he nearly chokes on his own air, trying to keep his eyes up from your breasts.

“Scooch,” you smirk at him to move to get underneath the water too. He does as you say watching you curiously. You’re in the process of wetting your hair when his chest is pressed firmly against your back.

“This wasn’t expected,” he says into your ear, his hands moving to grip your waist from behind.

“You’re the one that wanted me to go home with you,” you say giving him an innocent glance over your shoulder. He laughs biting his lip, pressing them against the skin behind of your ear. You lean into the physical contact, feeling almost all of your stress go away instantly.

You spin around to look at him fully as it’s a frenzy whose mouth collides with whose. He leans down to grasp your lips in their entirety, pulling you closer to him than you ever have been. He pulls you away from the water so it doesn’t get in your face as he presses you against the shower wall. His tongue dips in and out of your mouth, his hands free roaming over your breasts and down to your ass, whatever he likes within the moment. Your hands grip his dark locks as he moves his mouth from your mouth, to your neck, down to your chest. He waste no time taking your right nipple in his mouth and you exhale deeply at the feeling.

You pull his face back to yours, kissing him again not able to get enough of his lips. His hands trail down from your ass to the front of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your wet center.

“Is this okay?” He asks as his fingers rub slowly back forth between your entrance. You can barely speak as his touch is setting you on fire but you manage to nod.

“Yes, please, Jungkook,” you say. He enters one finger, then another stretching you out nicely. Fuck you forgot how good this felt with him.

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he breathes heavily and you glance down at his hardening cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. Jungkook lifts one of your legs and starts to take his fingers in and out of you slowly and agonizing. He fingers you deep and rough and you can already feel a climax coming.

“Shit,” you croak out as Jungkook rubs one of your nipples, kissing your neck. There’s a pain at the back of your head at his force pushing you against the wall but it’s easy to ignore when it feels so good below your waist. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come,” you say as the snap inside of you is about to break.

“Come on baby,” his voice is deep and groggy. As if on cue, you feel your climax wash over you and you’re not shy to be loud. You know no one is here so it doesn’t bother you one bit. Jungkook kisses you against feverishly as he pulls his fingers from you. You feel impossibly empty but you know what you want to do and you’re not near anywhere tired. Your hands travel down to his front, grasping his hard dick in your hands. God, he’s so big.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook seethes through his teeth as you pull on the sensitive skin, all the way from his pubic hair down to the tip. He places a hand beside of your head, leaning forward against your forehead. His eyes are shut tightly and you lick your lips, wanting to take him in your mouth.

You push him away from you slightly and move down to your knees, your face front and center with his beautiful dick. You take no time to put him in your mouth which causes Jungkook to groan loudly.

“Y/N,” he says looking down at you. He’s never seen a better sight. You make sure to keep eye contact as you bob your head up and down his shaft. While one of Jungkook’s hands stays against the wall, his other grips your hair, fisting it into a makeshift ponytail. “Oh fuck—He pulls on your hair and it only makes you want to please him more. Your left hand go to his balls, the right helping you up and down his length. He pulls your hair again and you take as much of him as you can. His tip reaches the back of your throat and you gag around his length and Jungkook thinks he could actually cry. Watching you through half open lids, he decides this isn’t how he is going to come—not tonight at least.

He grabs your hair and pulls you away from him and you’re slightly confused when he brings you to your feet.

“Come on, I need to be inside of you,” he says and you nod eagerly as he turns off the shower. He leads you out of the bathroom in a frenzy, pulling up into his bedroom. You shut the door behind you and he pins you against it, kissing you hard and deep.

Both of you are dripping wet but neither of you care to dry off as he carries you to his bed. You settle on his lap as his hands rest on your waist tightly. Your hands grip his face just as tight but you’re careful not to touch his injury above his brow. You couldn’t believe he was just fighting two hours ago—that seemed like forever ago compared to now. A lot can change in a short period of time and it makes you slightly chuckle against his mouth.  

“What?” He breaks the kiss asking you with a hazy grin.

You shake your head, “Nothing,” you smile pushing his hair from his forehead. You liked seeing it. “I love you,” you repeat. And you probably won’t stop, ever.

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.”

“Let me ride you,” you whisper in his ear and his eyes light up like a child. “Are you clean?” You ask him. 

He nods quickly, “You?” You nod in response and both of you feel excited and anxious. 

You rub your hand against his length again and you hold it up as you adjust yourself to sit on him. As soon as his tip enters you, a shiver runs down your spine. As you sink yourself lower, groans come from both of your mouths, a deep moan erupting from you when you bottom out.

“Oh my god,” you breathe in and out to control yourself.

“Ride me baby,” he says and you start to move your hips against his. He fills up every inch of you and it feels so good. Your hips lift away from his and he chases them with his own thrusts. He kisses your neck as you throw your head back, your hands digging into his shoulders for leverage.  

“Fuck Jungkook,” you say seeing stars in your eyes, “You feel so good,” you whine.

“You have no idea,” he says against your sticky skin, one of his hands bruising into your waist helping you ride him in a fluid motion. “Goddammit,” he says.

As you grind against him, your clit rubs against his pubic hair, sending your toes curling. He senses that you’ve found your sweet spot against him and places his thumb there instead to rub the sensitive bud.

You feel yourself inching closer and closer to a second climax when Jungkook stalls your motion.

“Lay on your stomach,” he breathes and you do as he says climbing off of him quickly. He doesn’t even give you time to get there all the way before he’s grabbing your hips to pull your ass to him. He slides right into you and you nearly scream into his mattress. Your hands grip the sheets as he fucks you deeper from behind. He smacks your ass once, twice sending a loud whine from your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter trying to focus on Jungkook’s whines and small ministrations from his mouth. He reaches forward, rubbing your clit again and you want to die and go to heaven at the feeling. Neither of you try to be quiet anymore as you feel the second orgasm coming over you. You clench and unclench around Jungkook’s length as he stalls his thrusts to feel the action.

“Come inside of me,” you say, knowing both of you are clean and you have an IUD.

“Jesus,” he breathes, picking up his pace again chasing after his own high. As the sensitivity becomes too much, Jungkook finally lets go, coming deep inside of you. He holds your hips close against him, trying to deepen his climax as far as possible. The hot cum inside of you feels good and you moan at the feeling.

When Jungkook finishes completely in you, he pulls out with a sigh. You collapse against the bed, completely spent. Jungkook finds a clean rag in his pile of clean laundry and is quick to clean yourself and him up. You feel like you can barely move as Jungkook joins you in his bed. He turns you over to face him and he kisses you gently which you return happily.

“I love you,” he says for the third time tonight, kissing your nose.

“I love you too,” you entangling your legs together. The room is silent apart from your breathing and you’re about to go to sleep when he nudges you with his hand.  

“Come on,” he says.

“What?” You ask.

“Let’s actually take a shower now since someone wouldn’t let me,” he eyes you with accusation.

You squint at him before flipping him off. “Fuck off.”

_____

The next morning you wake up with Jungkook hugging you from behind, his face nuzzeled in your hair. You have no clue what the time may be, but you since it’s early by the way the birds chirp out the window. You stretch out your arms as best as you could and try to move your legs, but it doesn’t work since Jungkook’s heavy legs are tangled with your own. You’re tempted to fall back asleep but when Jungkook moves behind you, you turn to see his ruckus. You’re met with his brown eyes and you jump slightly, not expecting to see him awake. Both of you let out the faintest of laughs, not saying anything.

Jungkook leans over and kisses your lips, “Good morning.” His voice is groggy and he shuts his eyes again as you fully turn your body to his.

“Good morning,” you respond, watching the way his chest rises and falls gently. “How’d you sleep?”

“Hmm, really good,” he mumbles. You are about to join him in closing your eyes again until a loud rumble comes from your belly. Jungkook laughs.

“Hungry much?”

“Starving,” you groan, “I didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Why not?”

“I was too nervous before your match… I thought I would yak if I ate,” you answer. Stupid, you know, but it was your train of thought last night.

He opens his eyes again, “Let’s go to the diner for breakfast… employee discount.”

You glare at him, “Is that all I am to you? A fucking employee discount,” you say saracastically.

“And my girlfriend if that helps?” He raises an eyebrow. Your cheeks heat up and you smile.

“Welllll, since my boyfriend is rich now and gets a discount, I’m assuming he’s paying.”

He smirks, “Obviously.”

“Will you take me to my place so I can change? And then we’ll go?”

He nods, his hand caressing the side of your body, “As much as I wanna stay in bed, I could really go for pancakes right now.”

“Waffles are superior,” you remark.

He frowns with a disgusted face, “Get the fuck out of my bed you heathen.”

_____

Jungkook insisted on coming up to your apartment with you because he didn’t want to wait in the car, but you know he just wants to see you change in front of him. Boys are all the fucking same.

As you fumbled with the key, the door opens and whatever Jungkook is saying to you is suddenly drowned out when you see—

“Jennie?”

“Taehyung?”

The names leave yours and Jungkook’s mouth as you watch the scene in front of you. Jennie is sitting on the counter, Taehyung in between her legs with a coffee cup in hand. Could be worse but what the fuck is going on?!

“Shit,” Jennie says pushing away Taehyung. “Hey guys,” she smiles awkwardly. You and Jungkook look at each other confused before Jungkook speaks.

“Uh, Taehyung?” He asks and Taehyung is. as red as a tomato.

“Oh fuck,” Jennie mutters shaking her head. She looks at Taehyung for backup.

Taehyung pinches his nose before speaking, “Um… we’re dating.”

You and Jungkook have the same reaction as your mouth drops.

“Jennie is your secret girlfriend?” Jungkook asks.

“Surprise,” Jennie smiles again looking at you.

You look at Jungkook and shake your head at the four of you. What a fucking cliché.

The four of you go to breakfast together that morning and it’s like old times, just with a sprinkle of something new. As long as the four of you have known each other, you’ve always had each other’s backs. Even now, with you and Jungkook and Jennie and Taehyung—you know that would never change from here on out. Turns out, Jennie just thought her and Taehyung were friends with benefits, while Taehyung was telling everyone he had a girlfriend because he was that smitten with her. The four of you laugh at the situation at hand and you couldn’t believe everyone was back together... like this. As Jungkook’s pancakes and your waffles arrive, Jungkook’s beaming smile lighting the whole room you think to yourself—this is how it’s supposed to be. 

[liibrii]

fem!Miya!Reader & Miya family

Part of the Third Miya Series

Synopsis: Three is a weird number. It's only two units bigger than one and only a unit more than two and yet it seems to be so much more, especially when the three in question are toddlers needed to be dressed for kindergarten.

wc: 2.1k

a/n: baby Miyas, the ultimate serotonin providers 🙃 if you wanna be tagged in future chapters let me know, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Mrs Miya has always trusted her gut feeling and in that moment it was telling her the bathroom was down the corridor, last door on the left, and, just as Mr Miya had told her that morning, eating leftover curry for breakfast was a dreadful idea.

Doctor repeats her words and Mrs Miya's neck becomes completely stiff. If it wouldn't she'd perhaps be able to look at her husband whose face turned ashen pale. “Triplets?“

Well, this will take buy one get one for free jokes on a whole new level.

Doctor's words are just buzzing and the soon to be Miya parents nod and smile and nod and hold on each others' hand as if there's no tomorrow. They're silent on the way out.

Mr Miya turns to his wife. “Do they even sell strollers for three kids?”

Three is a weird number. It's only two units bigger than one and only a unit more than two and yet it seems to be so much more, especially when the three in question are toddlers needed to be dressed for daycare.

You all wear the same colours because Atsumu would throw a tantrum if your jumper wasn't the same colour as his and you would throw a tantrum when yours was a different colour than Osamu's, who in turn would throw a tantrum because his jumper was now the same colour as Atsumu's.

Mrs Miya had read advices that one should always dress their twins (or, in this case, triplets) differently as it is good for their personality development; which is all well and good and a great advice, except that whoever wrote it forgot to take into account that two and a half out of her three children saw being dressed differently as their siblings as a horrific violation of their toddler rights.

Your parents tell themselves one day you'll grow out of this phase, but till then mom stitches little numbers one, two, and three on the edges of your clothes. She did start stitching your names, but with only two pairs of hands in the house and three little sprouts in constant need of attention there was never enough time to finish them.

“One,“ says Mr Miya and Atsumu raises his hands.

“Ichi!“ he proudly chimes.

“Two,“ Mr Miya grabs you before you'd crawl out of the reach of his arms.

“Ni!“ like his brother Osamu too raises his chubby fists, but only halfway.

“And three!”

“San!“ You hug your dad's neck, perhaps hoping that will get you out of having to wear socks.

And heaven forbid they ever messed up which jumper belonged to whom. It was beyond your parents' wisdom how you could tell the number stitched on the edge was not the same they said when counting your heads, but you could.

“Must be yer superpower,“ jokes Mr Miya while changing your sweater that has the wrong number on the edge. He barely pulls it off when Atsumu's chubby hands already grab it and begin pulling it over his head. He screams when his father offers to help, pouting even if he's completely lost between the left sleeve and the opening for the head.

“Alright buddy,“ muses Mr Miya and turns his attention to Osamu who already pulled his socks off so, naturally, now you've mysteriously lost one of your socks too. Mr Miya sighs. Maybe it's time to let his boss know he's going to be late.

Three is an enormous number, when the three in question are a feverish toddler in your arms and two more running around doctor's office. Perhaps it was time to ask the daycare to put you three into different groups. That will cause an outrage, oh ever since the 'One child, one pillow' incident Mrs Miya is well aware of that. But then again, better that than all of you throwing a tantrum when only one got to leave the daycare early.

“One, two, three,“ she counts your heads under her breath, then hurries over to where you just picked up a very interesting small stone that probably fell from the soles of someone's shoes, “San! I mean y/n, sweetie, that's a stone. See, it's rough and cold.“ You whine when she takes the treasure from you but still  listen closely to her words that spark Atsumu's interest too, and he trots closer to see what is happening. Thankfully feverish Osamu has fallen asleep in her arms. Really, the last thing she needs is his firm conviction the stone is just greyish candy. Mrs Miya still lets Atsumu take the stone in his hands. “No,“ she grabs his hand when he lifts it towards his mouth that is already curving into a grimace. “Hey, hey, no need to cry over it sweetie. Yer gonna wake up yer brother and he needs sleep right now.“

“Is he sick?” your tiny voice chimes in. Mrs Miya nods. “Because he ate melon seeds,“ you nod with all the wisdom of a 3 year old. “He's growin' melons in his tum-tum,“ you tell Atsumu whose wide eyes blink twice before he bursts into tears.

“One, two, three,“ Mrs Miya counts your heads while you play around the house. If you hide from her sight sooner or later screaming and crying alerts her something happened. A moment later Mr Miya returns to the living room with a very much red faced and screaming Atsumu in his arms.

“What happened?“ she asks, crouching down to console you, also crying because there's no way you'd let your brother scream his lungs out by himself.

“Ah the usual,“ he places the scissors on the counter, “wouldn't let him shred his shirt. Osamu, no!“ He quickly grabs his other son who also starts crying, shocked that his own father would take the lost sock from him before he got the chance to find out how it tastes.

Ah, just another Sunday.

The good thing about three children running around is they're never lonely. There are always games to play, fights to win, faces to colour. Most of the days all of you exhaust yours (sometimes apparently infinite) supplies of energy by the time evening falls. Mr Miya puts you to bed (one bed, because trying to make you sleep in separate cribs is apparently a disgusting violation of Toddler convention) before he collapses beside his wife.

“Asleep?“ she asks.

Mr Miya hums. “For now.“

The moment they turn the lights off slide door across the hallway open. Light steps cross the dangerous waters of the dark hallway, enter the bedroom and climb over Mr Miya to the safe haven between the parents.

“Bad dreams?“ asks Mrs Miya. In response Osamu sniffles and snuggles closer. Not a minute passes when two more pairs of legs pass through the darkness of the hallway and climb to be beside their brother. You shriek when Atsumu pushes his cold feet on your back, but dad's stern word makes you stop. A few moments later you're all asleep.  

“One, two, three,“ sleepily mumbles Mrs Miya, patting each of your heads.

“Four,“ says Mr Miya and his wife giggles.

Three is the number of band-aid packages your parents buy per month. Ever since you've grown for about a chopstick taller, well you only grew for about three thirds of a chopstick because nature thought it would be funny if you got outgrown by your brothers at the tender age of 5, it turned out the tall tree in the park could in fact be climbed, if you climbed on someone's shoulders and then pull them on the lowest branch. Sadly the branches aren't big fans of being climbed on but no amount of scratches and falls could stop you from trying.

“A champignon never stops tryin'!“ proclaims Atsumu after the failed attempt that left bark in his hair and Osamu laughing on the branch.

“What's a champignon?“ you ask.

“It's the person who's the best! It's what I'll be one day!“

Osamu snorts, firmly grabbing on the thin branch he's sitting on. “Champignon's a mushroom.“

“No it ain't!“

A mushroom, you make a little note in your memory, because no matter how much Atsumu protests you're more inclined to believe Osamu when it comes to mushrooms.

Your heads turn when you hear mom calling and waving, waiting for Osamu to climb down before running over to her.

“I win!“ announces Atsumu despite Osamu reaching her first.

“Why, because yer a champignon?“

“Are we all here?“ loudly asks Mr Miya before his boys could jump into each other's hair, “identify yerselves!“

“One!“ calls Atsumu.

“Two!“ calls Osamu, louder.

“Three!“ you call and jump, because being louder than them was never an option.

Four heads turn to Mrs Miya. “Mom,“ she raises her hand.

“Excellent!“ proclaims Mr Miya as three small voices cheer. “Then we can get goin'!“

“Where to?“ you ask.

Mr Miya picks up a stick and starts drawing lines in the sand covering the path. “It's a secret but maybe ya can guess, we'll go down this path-“

“A treasure hunt!”

“Almost. At the fountain we'll turn left, and what lies down the fountain path?“

“Pigeons?“ you try guessing.

Osamu bumps his fist on the open palm. “Ice cream stand!“

Mr Miya nods.

“Last one there's a loser!“ shouts Atsumu who starts running before even finishing the sentence. Osamu immediately follows, both ignoring your shouts to wait up.

Three is a funny number. It only works when the two and one have the third , because otherwise it's just one and two. Like a clover that got munched on by a picky rabbit that tried a leaf and then decided it doesn't fit its taste.

Volleyball sort of became the rabbit munching on the clover. One day teachers simply decided you're not allowed to play on the same team as your brothers anymore. And no amount of crying, screaming and sulking could convince the rabbit to give the leaf back.

“Maybe we can sneak ya in,“ suggests Atsumu one night, “all ya hafta do is wear our clothes. No one will know!“

So you try that and funnily enough, people do notice when one and two together make a three, and what surprises children even more is that parents also notice when they return late from school because they had to stay in detention. And as if cleaning the school hallways for a month wasn't enough, now they have to clean the house too.

It is however enough to discourage you from trying to sneak into practice again, so you stick with only coming to games and waiting for their practice to end so you can walk home together. From time to time some of their teammates stop to say hello or to complain to you about their shenanigans, but that's knowledge you hold to yourself, since you never knew when blackmail material might come in handy.

It's only when Osamu teases they get to go to a volleyball workshop and you don't that you get envious.

“It sounds stupid anyway,“ you try pretending you couldn't care less.

“It would be perfect for ya then,“ Osamu shots back and sprints away as you dive after him.

Maybe you are just a teensy bit envious, still as long as you get to play with them when they are home it's not that bad. After returning from their workshops you don't even let them take their shoes off before dragging them to the volleyball net dad set up in the garden. You stand where you always stand, by the net so you can throw balls for them to hit over.

Atsumu pushes you away. “No, this is my position now. I wanna be a setter.“

You don' mind, and throw the ball towards Atsumu who sends it back into a bit of an awkward place and you end up not even hitting it.

Osamu bursts into laughter. “Ya suck.“ He jumps to avoid the kick aimed at his knee. “We play with good players now so yer gonna hafta practice more. There was this tall player with a cool name! Right, Tsumu?“

“Tsumu?“ you repeat.

“Tsumu and Samu. It's our names but they sound way cooler now!“ proudly declares Atsumu.

Your eyes widen in admiration. “I want that too! What should I call myself?“

“Yer always copyin' us,“ complains Osamu but he gets ignored as the first name Atsumu suggests earns him a ball to the face.

“Oh I know!“ You bump your fist on your open palm. “I'll be San!“

Atsumu thinks it over with the same expression Osamu has when trying to decide which udon toppings to order. “San,... Y/n... San,... It sounds so cool! Whaddaja think Samu?“

Osamu shrugs. “San, let me show ya how to spike the ball properly.“

tag list: @espressons @trashy-simp @nachotrash​

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

The Tale of the Golden Lion Queen: Misogyny, Privilege, & Tragedy

After the success of my Greyjoy siblings essay, I wanted to write more in depth analyses of other characters and plots. This one took longer than I wanted it to, but it is finally finished. I've also decided from now on that my essays will no longer be split up into several parts, as it only serves to hinder motivation for finishing longer pieces, so from now on my essays will remain extremely long, or however long I see them fit. Todays topic is another huge one covering multiple characters and plots. At the center of it all lies our favourite horrible queen, Cersei Lannister.

I'll admit it; Cersei is one of my favourite characters. I like how complicated she is and her particular brand of villainy, and her chapters have always been a joy to me. It makes sense, then, that I write up an entire piece about her! It won't just be her though. The Tyrells will be deeply discussed, and we'll touch upon Aegon & Daenerys as well. There is more to Cersei than meets the eye, and we'll be discussing everything, from her actions in her POVs, to her close parallels with certain characters from the past, and explore what her future is in the story.

The Rightful Queen of Westeros

Tywin grew up with his father Tytos being rather ineffectual and weak. Worried about the reputation of his family, Tywin proved to be stern, and dealt with betrayal and disloyalty extremely harshly (look at the Reynes & Tarbecks!). As a result of Tywin's leadership and parenting, Cersei grew up feeling entitled, especially to the Iron Throne. Tywin planned for her to marry Rhaegar, yet Aerys II did not allow such a thing to occur. She's been resentful of that ever since, and even when she become the Queen Consort to King Robert, was not happy.

Growing up as a twin to Jaime also had Cersei deal with a lot of sexism. Jaime was allowed to do a lot of things, but Cersei was relegated to only fit a woman's role. In addition, being married off to Robert made her feel more like a brood mare than actual royalty. So Cersei's want for power isn't just out of narcissism (but oh boy is she a narcissist), but out of a desire to rise above the prejudices of women in Westeros. She felt entitled to the throne, but did not want to be left as simply "the kings husband"; she wants to sit it.

So she schemed to remove Robert, whom she loathed, using Lancel as her catspaw;

"How did you kill Robert?" "He did that himself. All we did was help. When Lancel saw that Robert was going after boar, he gave him strongwine. His favorite sour red, but fortified, three times as potent as he was used to. The great stinking fool loved it. He could have stopped swilling it down anytime he cared to, but no, he drained one skin and told Lancel to fetch another. The boar did the rest. You should have been at the feast, Tyrion. There has never been a boar so delicious. They cooked it with mushrooms and apples, and it tasted like triumph."

Wanting to get the throne out of a sense of entitlement and overcome Westerosi misogyny isn't her only motivation. Long ago, she went to see an old woods witch with her friends. And that witch, Maggy the Frog, read her future, which has stayed with Cersei ever since, which drives most of her actions in AFFC;

"I will be queen, though?" asked the younger her. "Aye." Malice gleamed in Maggy's yellow eyes. "Queen you shall be . . . until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear." "Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds," she said. "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."

Cersei will lose everything to a younger more beautiful queen, all three of her children will die, and the valonqar will choke her to death. Cersei never liked Tyrion, ever since their mother died giving birth to him, so she naturally assumed that he was the valonqar. The bad parts of the prophecy did not come true until the Purple Wedding, at which point Joffrey died. Then Tyrion killed Tywin, and Cersei began a deep decline into paranoia.

I would not call Cersei stupid or dumb, she has a certain cunning, as seen with her killing of Robert. However, she is incredibly narcissistic, and at times her paranoia and anger clouds her judgement. Her arc in AFFC/ADWD, in my opinion, does a great job showing how lost she and the rest of the Lannisters are after the death of their patriarch and the king. She is now in charge, and thinks to herself that she will more than live up to the name of Tywin;

It was gloomy within the sept with the sky so grey outside. If the rain ever stopped, the sun would slant down through the hanging crystals to drape the corpse in rainbows. The Lord of Casterly Rock deserved rainbows. He had been a great man. I shall be greater, though. A thousand years from now, when the maesters write about this time, you shall be remembered only as Queen Cersei's sire.

Despite Cersei thinking about how she will live up to Tywin's legacy, she makes... let's say, very big mistakes throughout the book. Her uncle Kevan cautions that she name him Hand, or someone else from the Reach (Randyll Tarly & Mathis Rowan), but Cersei instead gives titles and positions to various people out of spite and other arbitrary reasons.

She hears Mace Tyrell wanting to put his uncle Garth the Gross on the small council as master of coin, but she doesn't trust him so she names the old, coughing, and dying Lord Gyles Rosby in that position instead. Because her mistrust of the Tyrells also extends to their bannermen, she does not trust to use the Redwyne fleet as her navy. So who does she name to the position of master of ships? Aurane Waters, bastard of Driftmark, all because he reminds her of Rhaegar... oh Cersei...

She later names the husband of her friend and lover Taena, Orton Merryweather, as the Hand of the King, after naming him lord justiciar. However, it seems clear that they were merely using her, as the moment things turned sour for Cersei, they fled the city. She even refuses to pay the debts the Iron Throne owes to the Iron Bank when an envoy visits, leading to the Iron Bank refusing to pull out any new loans until all the debt across Westeros is payed.

In addition to poor rulership, Cersei has some very strange feelings regarding wildfire;

"Lord Hallyne has assured me that his pyromancers can control the fire." The Guild of Alchemists had been brewing fresh wildfire for a fortnight. "Let all of King's Landing see the flames. It will be a lesson to our enemies." "Now you sound like Aerys."

And as Jaime says, that does sound like Aerys. More on the two later. On Tommen's wedding, when the pyromancers burn the Tower of the Hand, she has an extremely disturbing moment of euphoria;

The queen could feel the heat of those green flames. The pyromancers said that only three things burned hotter than their substance: dragonflame, the fires beneath the earth, and the summer sun. Some of the ladies gasped when the first flames appeared in the windows, licking up the outer walls like long green tongues. Others cheered, and made toasts. It is beautiful, she thought, as beautiful as Joffrey, when they laid him in my arms. No man had ever made her feel as good as she had felt when he took her nipple in his mouth to nurse.

While there is obvious shades of Aerys here that we are meant to see, there is more to her obsession with wildfire. Multiple times even before AFFC, Cersei's eyes are described like wildfire by multiple different characters;

"A thousand other women might have loved him with all their hearts. What did he do to make you hate him so?" Her eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. "The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna."

The queen was drinking heavily, but the wine only seemed to make her more beautiful; her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had a bright, feverish heat to them as she looked down over the hall. Eyes of wildfire, Sansa thought.

There is something very specific about her green eyes comparison with wildfire that goes beyond parallels with Aerys or separating her and Jaime for the time being. I believe the green eyes and wildfire comparison symbolizes her rage lurking just beneath the surface, from her hatred of being with Robert, her hatred of the Starks and the Tyrells, and gender envy. Which is why Cersei specifically feels cleansed watching the wildfire burning the Tower of the Hand;

Cersei felt too alive for sleep. The wildfire was cleansing her, burning away all her rage and fear, filling her with resolve. "The flames are so pretty. I want to watch them for a while."

Yet it is double edged symbolism, as Jaime describes Cersei using wildfire too;

His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cersei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted.

This symbolism of wildfire also fits nicely with how Cersei is dealing with the deaths in her family after ASOS. Tywin, in many ways, held the Lannister family together with his iron will, but now that he is gone, Cersei is lost, uncontrollable, the way wildfire is, not to mention the horrific death of Joffrey. Add in the narcissism, and... well, you get AFFC Cersei Lannister. Someone who is holding onto their pride, trying to live up to their fathers legacy, but unable to comprehend that they are fallible and need help. Kevan even tells her as much;

"Every man needs someone he can trust. Tywin had me, and once your mother."

Cersei's paranoia prevents her from trusting anyone. She still thinks Jaime will do whatever she says and is still madly in love with her, but again, this is more or less her own narcissism coming to the surface.

Yet, there is also envy that Cersei feels towards Tywin. Tywin was never warm towards his children, only using them as political pawns to further extend House Lannisters power. Thus, in the contrast to the death of Ned, which only resolved Robb & Catelyn's quest to wage war against the Lannister, the death of Tywin left his family in tatters. Nobody is unified, because he did not rule through love. It's not hard to see how Cersei became the woman she is today. Even though Cersei says that she will even better than Tywin, it's clear that she and him had serious issues;

"I am the regent," she reminded him. "You were. Tywin did not intend that you continue in that role. He told me of his plans to send you back to the Rock and find a new husband for you." Cersei could feel her anger rising. "He spoke of such, yes. And I told him it was not my wish to wed again."

One of the best parts of Cersei's chapters is that there is a lot of examination of misogyny in Westeros. Cersei was envious of the roles Jaime had, what she was and wasn't allowed to do on account of her gender. And here, from beyond the grave, Tywin still tries to instill that onto her, through Kevan. Yet she does not want to bow to the expectations that society has placed on her, instead trying to rule in spite of that. And she is now using her father's death to try to prove to everyone that she can be powerful too.

Once again, wildfire is a good description of her. Her feeling entitled because she is Tywin's daughter and her anger at being excluded because of sexism leaves her feeling enraged when she has to deal with people who dare question her;

Cersei thought of all the King's Hands that she had known through the years: Owen Merryweather, Jon Connington, Qarlton Chelsted, Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark, her brother Tyrion. And her father, Lord Tywin Lannister, her father most of all. All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom.

This all comes crashing down spectacularly when she makes her biggest mistake of all; rearming the Faith Militant. Hoping to make a friend of the High Sparrow, she allows the Faith Militant to reform, and plots to frame Margaery for adultery, believing her to be the younger more beautiful queen, to get rid of her and thwart the prophecy. And it works... almost. Margaery is arrested along with her accused lovers, but then Cersei is also arrested, as one of the men who confessed to the "crime", Osney Kettleblack, rats her out and confesses that he slept with Cersei and was promised a lordship if he was to join the Night's Watch and kill Jon Snow.

The evidence for Margaery is admittedly weak and she is let go to await trial, but Cersei for the first time realizes that she simply can't flail about to get out of this. So she confesses to adultery, but leaves out Jaime, and her conspiring to kill Robert. With this, she is finally allowed to go, but first she must go on her walk of atonement, naked before the city, from the sept to the Red Keep. As afraid as she is, she tries her best to remain proud and tall:

"Harlot," a voice screamed. Another woman. Something flew out of the crowd. Some rotted vegetable. Brown and oozing, it sailed above her head to splash at the foot of one of the Poor Fellows. I am not afraid. I am a lioness. She walked on.

Yet, near the end, she breaks and is unable to continue without fear;

And then there was no stopping the tears. They burned down the queen's cheeks like acid. Cersei gave a sharp cry, covered her nipples with one arm, slid her other hand down to hide her slit, and began to run, shoving her way past the line of Poor Fellows, crouching as she scrambled crab-legged up the hill. Partway up she stumbled and fell, rose, then fell again ten yards farther on. The next thing she knew she was crawling, scrambling uphill on all fours like a dog as the good folks of King's Landing made way for her, laughing and jeering and applauding her.

When Cersei finally makes it to the Red Keep, she is carried away by a new mysterious member of the Kingsguard, Ser Robert Strong (all but confirmed the resurrected Ser Gregor Clegane). Starting out AFFC with her in power, and her pride and beauty intact, she ends her arc in ADWD having lost her pride, power, dignity, and beauty. She has lost the things most important to her, and Kevan plans to send her off to Casterly Rock after her trial. But when she meets Ser Robert, she only thinks this;

"If it please Your Grace, Ser Robert has taken a holy vow of silence," Qyburn said. "He has sworn that he will not speak until all of His Grace's enemies are dead and evil has been driven from the realm." Yes, thought Cersei Lannister. Oh, yes.

Drowning in a Sea of Golden Roses

Although Cersei has many, many enemies, the chief in her mind are the Tyrells. They are the second most powerful family in Westeros, nearly as rich as the Lannisters, and command many more men. As such, and with Margaery now taking her place as the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, she is worried that the Tyrells are plotting to betray her and take over Westeros. She may be paranoid, but she's not wrong in this aspect. The Tyrells are absolutely trying to take over and gain more power than the Lannisters.

First he marries Margaery off to the king (twice, two different kings), and their youngest son joins the Kingsguard. Then, Mace joins the small council, later promoted to Hand of the King by Kevan, and has his bannermen Lord Paxter Redwyne and Lord Randyll Tarly selected as lord admiral and lord justiciar, respectively. He also wants to put his uncle Garth, seneschal of Highgarden, on the council as the lord treasurer, and put his bastard sons into the gold cloaks. Later, Mace even put 100 Tyrell men into the gold cloaks, and tries to betroth his son Willas to Myrcella, objecting to her betrothal to Prince Trystane Martell.

In other words, Mace is desperately trying to practice nepotism. And it's funny to mention that, because there is also another powerful house from the Reach that used nepotism grossly to gain power in the Red Keep and plotted to betray the royal family on more than one occasion to de facto rule the Seven Kingdoms... that's right, our favourite traitors in history, House Peake! Time to open up our history books to Fire & Blood where Archmaester Gyldayn talks about the aftermath of the Dance of the Dragons and the Regency of Aegon III!

There are many parallels between the Dance and ASOIAF, and in this case, the Regency of Aegon III is essentially the Regency of Tommen I in the past. And one such regent on the Council of Regents was a rather terrible man named Lord Unwin Peake. The second Hand of the King (first being Cregan Stark) was Ser Tyland Lannister, who ruled effectively over a Council of Regents, one of seven. When he died, Unwin Peake became the new Hand, and thus begin the parallels with the Tyrells. First and foremost, however, despite having the same role as the Tyrells, Unwin himself is not at all like Mace. In fact, he is almost exactly like Randyll Tarly.

Both were noted commanders who wielded Valyrian steels swords and extremely openly misogynistic. And they deal with crime extremely harshly. Compare Unwin's treatment of various prisoners on the Feast Day of the Father Above to Randyll's treatment of outlaws at Maidenpool;

Forty thieves had their hands removed. Eight rapers were gelded, then marched naked to the riverside with their genitals hung about their necks, to be put aboard ships for the Wall. A suspected Poor Fellow who preached that the Sevent sent the Winter Fever to punish House Targaryen for incest had his tongue removed. Two pox-riddled whores were mutilated in unspeakable ways for passing the pox to dozens of men. Six servants found guilty of stealing from their masters had their noses slit; a seventh, who cut a hole in a wall to peek upon his master's daughters in their nakedness, had the offending eye plucked out as well.

And now Tarly;

"It is customary to take a finger from a thief," Lord Tarly replied in a hard voice, "but a man who steals from a sept is stealing from the gods." He turned to his captain of guards. "Seven fingers. Leave his thumbs." "Seven?" The thief paled. When the guards seized hold of him he tried to fight, but feebly, as if he were already maimed. Watching him, Brienne could not help think of Ser Jaime, and the way he'd screamed when Zollo's arakh came flashing down. The next man was a baker, accused of mixing sawdust in his flour. Lord Randyll fined him fifty silver stags. When the baker swore he did not have that much silver, his lordship declared that he could have a lash for every stag that he was short. He was followed by a haggard grey-faced whore, accused of giving the pox to four of Tarly's soldiers. "Wash out her private parts with lye and throw her in a dungeon," Tarly commanded.

And one of the men Unwin Peake put in the Red Keep, Ser Gareth Long, was an abusive master-at-arms for Aegon III, which is reminiscent of Randyll's own abuse of his son Sam;

Ser Gareth Long was a skilled swordsman but a stern taskmaster, renowned at Starpike for his harshness toward the boys he instructed. Those who did not meet his standards were made to go for days without sleep, doused in tubs of iced water, had their heads shaved, and were oft beaten.

And of course, Randyll;

A dozen masters-at-arms came and went at Horn Hill, trying to turn Samwell into the knight his father wanted. The boy was cursed and caned, slapped and starved. One man had him sleep in his chainmail to make him more martial. Another dressed him in his mother's clothing and paraded him through the bailey to shame him into valor.

Sam put a hand to his throat. He could almost feel the chain there, choking him. "My lord, the Citadel . . . they make you cut up corpses there." They make you wear a chain about your neck. If it is chains you want, come with me. For three days and three nights Sam had sobbed himself to sleep, manacled hand and foot to a wall. The chain around his throat was so tight it broke the skin, and whenever he rolled the wrong way in his sleep it would cut off his breath. "I cannot wear a chain."

Looking at the water only made him think of drowning. When he was small his lord father had tried to teach him how to swim by throwing him into the pond beneath Horn Hill. The water had gotten in his nose and in his mouth and in his lungs, and he coughed and wheezed for hours after Ser Hyle pulled him out. After that he never dared go in any deeper than his waist.

Yet, Unwin's scheming and nepotism 100% screams like that the Tyrells undergo. In some ways, King's Landing was filled with even more Peakes than Tyrells;

Having elevated Ser Marston Waters to command of the Kingsguard, Lord Peake now rpevailed upon him to confer white cloaks on two of his own kin, his nephew Ser Amaury Peake of Starpike, and his bastard brother Ser Mervyn Flowers. The City Watch was placed under the command of Ser Lucas Leygood, the son of one of the Caltrops who had died at Tumbleton. To replace the men who had died during the Winter Fever and the Moon of Madness, the Hand bestowed gold cloaks on five hundred of his own men.

Once secure in his own person, the new Hand began bringing his own supporters, kin, and friends to court, in place of men and women whose loyalty was less assured. His widowed aunt Clarice Osgrey was put in charge of Queen Jaehaera's household, supervising her maids and servants. Ser Gareth Long, master-at-arms at Starpike, was granted the same title at the Red Keep and tasked with training King Aegon for kinghthood. George Graceford, Lord of Holyhall, and Ser Victor Risley, Knight of Risley Glade, the solde surviving Caltrops aside from Lord Peake himself, were appointed Lord Confessor and King's Justice respectively. The Hand even went so far as to dismiss Septon Eustace, bringing in a younger man, Septon Bernard, to tend to the spiritual needs of the court and supervise His Grace's religious and moral instruction. Bernard too was of his blood, being descended from a younger sister of his great-grandsire.

After most certainly orchestrating the murder of Queen Jaehaera (parallels with the Tyrells poisoning Joffrey), Peake even tried to marry his daughter Myrielle to Aegon, allowing a ball to be hosted for which many women would present themselves to Aegon for marriage, where many tragedies befell them (likely the work of him, with attacks and rumours spread to discourage the women), but this failed as Aegon chose Daenaera. His uncle Gedmund was also named master of ships on the small council.

Unwin Peake quit the regency and returned to Starpike, and in 135 AC came the Secret Siege, wherein Thaddeus Rowan and numerous other members of the kings council and presence were imprisoned, and accused of helping the Rogare's to assassinate Aegon and put Viserys on the throne, while also defrauding Westerosi nobles. King Aegon, his brother Viserys, and his wife Larra, as well as others, were held up in Maegor's holdfast, not allowing Ser Marston Waters in to arrest anyone. When Aegon spoke to Thaddeus Rowan and found he was tortured into a false confession, Ser Marston decided to carry out Aegon's commands to arrest those who betrayed his trust. This debacle was most likely the work of Unwin Peake and his aunt Clarice.

It could be that if the Tyrells are brought down by Cersei (and I strongly believe they will), that some people in the Red Keep might attempt something similar against Cersei, as revenge for the Tyrells deaths. But alas, what that could be is entirely speculative. The fact that Unwin Peake's scheming for his family is reminiscent of Mace Tyrell but his personality is more like Randyll Tarly's, and that he had a very large role in the regency, might also suggest to me that Randyll Tarly could have a larger role to play later on (more later).

With Kevan and Pycelle now dead, Mace is in the perfect position to gain more power. In fact, when Pycelle was first removed from the office of Grand Maester, a Tyrell was to be chosen to replace him;

"Thankfully, wiser heads prevailed, and the Conclave accepted the fact of Pycelle's dismissal and set about choosing his successor. After giving due consideration to Maester Turquin the cordwainer's son and Maester Erreck the hedge knight's bastard, and thereby demonstrating to their own satisfaction that ability counts for more than birth in their order, the Conclave was on the verge of sending us Maester Gormon, a Tyrell of Highgarden. When I told your lord father, he acted at once."

With Pycelle dead, it's entirely possible that Gormon will be the next Grand Maester. Of course, that will make Cersei suspicious. No doubt that's exactly why Varys had Pycelle killed. With Kevan dead, Mace could try to take position as Lord Regent. If Harys Swyft's mission to the Free Cities fails, then Garth could be named the master of coin. And should Margaery try to ingratiate herself within the faith, as she could following her trial, the Tyrells could even try to make allies of the faith militant. And of course, all of this will make Cersei more and more and more uncomfortable.

But alas, what exactly the Tyrells will do and have done to them shall be saved for later. One of the most important things about the Tyrells is how they parallel and contrast with the Lannisters. As said, they both want more power, and they both are among the wealthiest, most powerful families in the realm. But that is not all. The structure of the Tyrells is both reminiscent and the opposite of the Lannister family structure. We have;

Tywin & Olenna. Tywin was the face and power of House Lannister. The power of House Tyrell lies with Olenna, in contrast to Tywin's rather poor view of women. Kevan & Mace. Maybe not much here, but as Mace follows the advice of his mother, Kevan also followed Tywin faithfully. The difference is that Mace is the face of House Tyrell, whereas Kevan was only Tywin's brother, and not trying to take Tywin's role (although he does step into that after Tywin dies). Tyrion & Willas. Tyrion is a disabled little person who spends much time reading books and is one of the wittiest of the Lannisters. Willas is disabled as well, his leg being injured after being unhorsed in a tourney by Oberyn Martell. In addition, Willas is also fond of reading books, as well as looking at the stars.

And of course, the greatest and most narratively important parallels between the two;

Jaime & Loras/Cersei & Margaery. Jaime was a hotheaded and glory seeking man who joined the Kingsguard at a young age, being involved in an incestuous relationship with Cersei. Loras is also a hotheaded glory hungry young man who joined the Kingsguard at 17, being involved in another scandalous relationship with Renly. Cersei was the queen consort, wanting to be loved by everyone and gain more power. Margaery is the current queen consort, who is loved by everyone and wants to help her family in gaining more power.

The Lannisters and Tyrells are incredible foils to one another. Tywin raised his children without love, merely using them as pawns and forcing (or trying to force) themselves into positions he wants to further his family's power without taking into consideration what they want. He rules through intimidation, not afraid to end entire bloodlines when they threaten the honour and pride of his family. The Lannisters are incredibly dysfunctional, with Cersei hating Tyrion and Tyrion directly killing his own father, and Cersei and Jaime having their own issues currently. Nobody is helping each other, it's each for themselves.

Meanwhile, the Tyrells are very close. Mace follows the advice of Olenna, and Olenna has taught Margaery the intricacies of political intrigue, and how to defend herself. They genuinely look out for one another, and all work together, not to advance themselves, but to advance their entire family. The Tyrells do not command each other, they support each other. But unlike Tywin, who was extremely stern and brutal, the Tyrells instead rely upon love and compassion to gain allies and be acclaimed by the populous. Yet even they are not above some backstabbing, they just do it more subtly than the Lannisters.

They betrayed Joffrey at the Purple Wedding by poisoning him, because Joffrey was a monster, wild and uncontrollable, and was to marry Mace's beloved daughter Margaery. They killed him in order to keep Margaery safe from a psychopathic tyrant and remove a complete wildcard that could ruin their plans, and Littlefinger helped along to cause chaos and help spirit Sansa away, letting Tyrion take the fall for it. If it benefits them in some way, the Tyrells will take advantage. They even attempted to betroth Sansa to Willas so they could hold a claim on the North, before Tywin stopped that from happening by marrying her to Tyrion.

This isn't to say that the Tyrells are that morally better than the Lannisters, they just use different techniques to cover it up. As Dontos warned Sansa;

"I tell you, these Tyrells are only Lannisters with flowers."

It is also important to note that the Tyrells are not the ones with the POVs; it's the Lannisters. Despite the Tyrells seeming more good natured and the Lannisters more greedy and narcissistic, via POV, it's the Lannisters who are the protagonists, with the Tyrells as the antagonists. This is deliberate on the part of GRRM, and to me signifies that the Lannisters have much more ahead of them in terms of plot and character development. Look at some of the other foils in the series. Jon Snow and Ramsay Snow. Jaime and Brienne. Cersei and Sansa. They play off each other to catalyze development for those characters.

One thing that escaped from the initial comparisons between the two families is that Loras and Margaery are everything Jaime and Cersei want to be. Loras is loved and cherished by boys and girls alike, seemingly the very face of chivalry and knighthood, renowned all over. Jaime is renowned for his skill, but is received only scorn and mockery as the Kingslayer and for his relationship with Cersei, seen as dishonourable and unchivalrous. Margaery is loved and respected by everyone around her, while Cersei is hated and does not get the respect she thinks she deserves from others. This also explains why Cersei is so fixated on Margaery, as she is jealous of what Margaery has.

The Tyrells are important to understand the Lannisters, and especially Cersei. They are not just the antagonists for Cersei, they represent the life and acclaim Cersei never received, the very thing she wants yet cannot have. To end this portion, we should also look at the words for both houses. House Tyrell's is growing strong. They aren't just boasting words about gaining power, they represent what the Tyrells do. They nurture each other to become capable and independent, as one would use good soil and water to grow flowers. House Lannister's is hear me roar. They use fear to establish dominance, to intimidate everyone else, as a lion might to scare off potential rivals of the pride. Like ice and fire, and so many other things, they are two sides of the same coin.

Cersei Targaryen

No, I don’t think Cersei and Jaime or Tyrion are secretly the children of Aerys. They are all Tywin’s children… instead, I’m going to look at Cersei’s parallels within the history of the story, because she has a lot, and nearly all of them are Targaryens. By looking at their parallels, we could potentially get an insight into the future of her story. One of the more obvious parallels to Cersei come from the Targaryen civil war, the Dance of the Dragons. Both it and the War of the Five Kings have so, so, so many parallels, and this is merely the tip of the iceberg.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, the lawful heir (*cough* fuck the greens *cough*) of King Viserys I, came into conflict with her half-brother Aegon II, who was crowned by his own mother Alicent Hightower after her husband died. In this case, both Rhaenyra and Alicent parallel Cersei, albeit in different ways. Alicent, like Cersei, was the elder daughter of the faithful Hand of the King, member of one of the most powerful houses in Westeros, and the queen consort to the king. And just like Cersei, Alicent crowns her own son instead of the lawful heir.

Yet it’s Rhaenyra whom Cersei is most like. She grew up anticipating to be the queen of Westeros, but not as consort to the king; as a ruler in her own right. After the death of his wife Aemma, Viserys named Rhaenyra his heir as he had no sons and did not wish for his wild brother Daemon to inherit the throne. Like Cersei, she has had numerous sex scandals, including marrying her uncle Daemon without her fathers leave not long after both their spouses died.

The biggest scandal, just as with Cersei, was Rhaenyra’s first three children. While she married Laenor Velaryon, who had the typical Valyrian features of his house and the Targaryens, their children did not have those features. Instead of silver-blonde hair and purple eyes, they had brown hair and eyes, and pug noses. Like Cersei’s children, they were illegitimate bastards whose true father was her sworn shield Ser Harwin Strong, as her husband Laenor was gay.

The illegitimacy of her children was a concern to her stepmother Alicent Hightower, as they were expected to follow her in the line of succession, leading to the crowning of Aegon II. Given that Joffrey was a bastard of incest between Cersei and Jaime, not Robert’s son, this made Stannis the lawful heir to the throne, and thus he entered into the fray in the War of the Five Kings. As if that wasn’t enough, Rhaenyra named her youngest son Joffrey. Like Cersei, Rhaenyra also grew gradually more paranoid with the death of each of her illegitimate sons.

Even in personality they are said to be similar. Rhaenyra and Cersei are both stubborn and quick to anger, never forgetting a slight. The prophecy that Cersei received has stated that all three of her children will die, and in the end, all three of Rhaenyra’s children with Harwin Strong also die. Rhaenyra is also caught by Aegon II when she is forced to flee King’s Landing and returns to her seat at Dragonstone. There, her brother kills her by feeding her to his dragon. As stated with the valonqar, one of Cersei’s brothers might end up killing her as well.

Cersei also has some not subtle parallels with Aerys II. Both are paranoid, have a strange love of wildfire, and surrounded themselves with incompetent councillors who benefited off her coruption. They have some of the same wishes too. In The World of Ice & Fire, we learn;

In 265 AC, offended by "the stink of King's Landing," he spoke of building a "white city" entirely of marble on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush.

Then, Cersei from early in A Feast for Crows;

"Even if Tyrion were still hiding in the castle, he won't be in the Tower of the Hand. We've reduced it to a shell." "Would that we could do the same to the rest of this foul castle," said Cersei. "After the war I mean to build a new palace beyond the river." She had dreamed of it the night before last, a magnificent white castle surrounded by woods and gardens, long leagues from the stinks and noise of King's Landing.

When Cersei blows up the Tower of the Hand with wildfire on Tommen and Margaery’s wedding, she says it will be a lesson to their enemies. Jaime, having served as the Kingsguard of King Aerys, right away sees the parallel;

"Now you sound like Aerys."

Cersei has a very hard time holding onto the throne throughout AFFC, and unambiguously acts a lot like the Mad King. However, the idea that Cersei is “becoming the Mad Queen” or going to blow up King’s Landing with wildfire doesn’t strike me as entirely likely. That she will use wildfire for something huge is not in doubt, but it’s so obviously telegraphed that it feels like a misdirection to compare her to Aerys. As does the idea Jaime kills her to prevent her from destroying the entire city, as it’s too neat. In addition, Cersei isn’t even close to the levels of psychosis and paranoia that Aerys was. She is paranoid, but has not yet had a psychotic break, and I don’t anticipate she will. But we’ll address that later.

In my opinion, however, there are two Targaryens whom Cersei best parallels. Visenya, like Cersei, was the oldest of three children, and (one of two) queen consort to the king. After her nephew King Aenys died, Visenya skipped over his son Aegon the Uncrowned in the line of succession, instead installing her own son Maegor as the king on the Iron Throne. While Cersei did this because she wanted to be in power, Visenya did this because she felt that Aenys was too weak and Maegor just aggressive enough to deal with the threats that plagued his entire reign.

Visenya also was rumoured to practice black magic, as did one of Maegor’s many wives, Tyanna of Pentos. While Cersei herself doesn’t, her ally Qyburn does, using necromancy to bring the Mountain back from the dead. Cersei of course does not have dragons, but she also consults with the pyromancers, who use spells to create wildfire. More about the magical aspects of Cersei’s storyline to come in a moment. But now it’s time to turn to her true parallel; Visenya’s son, Maegor the Cruel.

During the reign of Aenys, his marriage between his children Rhaena and Aegon caused a stir amongst the faith of the Seven, and the Faith Militant rose up in rebellion. Maegor began his reign by agreeing to fight in a trial by seven against the Warrior’s Sons, emerging victorious, albeit slightly dead. When he woke from his coma, Maegor burned the Sept of Remembrance on Balerion, then waged war against the Faith Militant for the entirety of his reign. Maegor outlawed the Faith Militant, and when nobles defied his royal summons, he and Visenya burnt down all their castles.

Inversely, Cersei rearms the Faith Militant, trying to at first use them as allies to use them for her own ends. However, this fails terribly, and Cersei herself gets imprisoned by them. After her walk of shame, Cersei views them with extreme contempt, and is definitely going to wage war on them. Unlike Maegor who hated the Faith Militant from the very beginning (and some very problematic ideas about having superior blood), Cersei grows to despise them and view them as her enemies rather than right away.

Maegor also parallels Ser Gregor Clegane. Maegor was the younger between him and Aenys, while Gregor was the oldest between him and Sandor. Maegor lived only to fight and kill, being a formidable opponent in battle and in most certain terms a sadist. Gregor similarly loves killing and fighting, being one of the strongest people in Westeros, and an absolute sadist. Even their names sound similar; Maegor and Gregor. They both also fought in a trial by battle (albeit Maegor’s was a trial by seven) and were severely wounded, then brought back via mysterious means.

Gregor was poisoned by Oberyn Martell and slowly died horribly, in spite of the maesters efforts, but Qyburn used necromancy to bring him back from the dead, supposedly stronger than he had ever been in life. Meanwhile, with Maegor;

For twenty-seven days Maegor Targaryen lingered at the point of death, whilst maesters treated him with potions and poultices and septons prayed above his bed.

On the twenty-eighth day after the Trial of Seven, a ship arrived from Pentos upon the evening tide, carrying two women and six hundred sellswords. Alys of House Harroway, Maegor Targaryen’s second wide, had returned to Westeros . . . but not alone. With her sailed another woman, a pale raven-haired beauty known only as Tyanna of the Tower. Some said the woman was Maegor’s concubine. Others named her Lady Alys’s paramour. The natural daughter of a Pentoshi magister, Tyanna was a tavern dancer who had risen to be a courtesan. She was rumored to be a poisoner and sorceress as well. Many queer tales were told about her . . . yet as son as she arrived, Queen Visenya dismissed her son’s maesters and septons and gave Maegor over to Tyanna’s care. The next morning the king awoke, rising with the sun.

Qyburn himself has more parallels with Tyanna later on. But both were brought back via magic after nearly dying in a trial. Cersei is not a martial person, but her new champion Ser Robert Strong definitely is. Maegor is an amalgamation of Cersei and the Mountain. Cersei will most likely have the commands and actions of Maegor, but the physical violence Maegor is known for will be done by the Mountain, following her orders.

The supernatural aspect of both Maegor and Cersei cannot be ignored. Cersei is sometimes thought to be not involved with the supernatural aspect of the story, but she is. Extremely. The supernatural is deeply rooted in Cersei’s story, from the prophecy Maggy the Frog gave her, to the necromancy and experiments conducted by Qyburn, and the wildfire. Cersei herself is not a sorceress, but she allows the use of sorcery and dark magic within the Red Keep, just as Maegor did.

Tyanna, like Qyburn long after her, also served as (unofficially) the master of whisperers for Maegor. She also served as a torturer, torturing Prince Viserys when Queen Dowager Alyssa and her children Jaehaerys and Alysanne fled, and later torturing Alys Harroway after convincing Maegor that she had been unfaithful to him. Maegor also had all of House Harroway extinguished, and all of Alys’s alleged lovers tortured to death as well (into a false confession). Tyanna herself was to be tortured by Maegor when his other wife Jeyne Westerling gave birth to a stillborn monstrosity and died. Tyanna confessed to causing the stillbirths, and Maegor cut her heart out and fed it to his dogs.

Thus far, we’ve only seen Cersei have Qyburn torture the Blue Bard into making a false confession of the infidelity of Margaery Tyrell. What Tyanna and Maegor did together could be extremely dark foreshadowing for what Cersei and Qyburn might do later. It’s also worth noting that the roles are switched with them; Maegor was the king, and Tyanna a witch. But here it is a woman, Cersei, who is in charge, and Qyburn, a man, who is practicing the dark magic. We will no doubt continue to see Qyburn conducting more depraved and monstrous dark magic under Cersei in TWOW.

Despite the very obvious parallels with Aerys, I think that it’s Maegor whom Cersei truly follows in the footsteps of. For many reasons that I’ll get into near the end, Cersei isn’t going to become the Mad Queen, or become Aerys III. She will become Maegor II, Cersei the Cruel. And her wrath will be terrible to behold.

Tywin's Legacy (Wherein I Talk at Great Length About Jaime Lannister)

The legacy of our forebearers is a very prominent, recurring theme in the series. The Stark children and how they act can be traced back to what their father Ned experienced and how he raised them. Theon & Asha Greyjoy react differently and do different things, but both stem from the decisions and sins of their father’s past. The Lannisters are another outstanding example of this, and Tywin’s legacy will be the defining trait of the story of House Lannister in the main series. We’ve already discussed Cersei and her struggles, wanting to grow up to be even greater than Tywin, but also being resentful of him and the misogyny of the world she lives in.

But no discussion about Cersei can happen without talking about Jaime, Tyrion, & Tywin. All three siblings journeys parallel and connect with one another, and are tied back to Tywin, the old lion of the family. Tywin was the oldest of five children; Kevan, Genna, Tygett, & Gerion, all children to Lord Tytos Lannister. Tytos was a weak ruler, who loaned money to people who never repaid him, allowed people to mock him at court, and whose bannermen often ignored his orders. The power of House Lannister was declining while those of other Houses (chiefly the Reynes & Tarbecks) grew under his misrule.

Even as a child, Tywin objected to many of his fathers decisions, and the weakening of their House and poor leadership of Tytos was a massive blow to Tywin. This would inspire the type of leadership that Tywin stuck to, where he was implacable, ruthless, and sought to gain power to uphold House Lannisters prestige and reputation. Before his father died, when the Reynes & Tarbecks renounced their fealty to House Lannister, Tywin lead an army and completely demolished both houses, reducing their castles to ruins and killing every last member of them, which earned him a fearsome reputation.

When Tytos died, Tywin forced his mistress on a walk of atonement through Lannisport (just like Cersei) and banished her from the Westerlands, as he thought sleeping with someone low born was an insult to the pride of his family. He also sought to use his family to gain more power and respect by having Cersei marry Prince Rhaegar, but this was rejected by King Aerys. He later had Cersei marry King Robert after the rebellion, finally making her the queen of the realm. Yet his obsession with making his family respected and strong led to a whole host of issues with his children. He never taught them what to do, he told them what they would do for the honour of House Lannister.

He used his children as political pawns and was not close with any of them. Despite Jaime being in the Kingsguard, Tywin was in denial and wanted him to renounce his white cloak to be Lord of Casterly Rock. He wanted Cersei to remarry against her wishes simply because he wanted a new alliance and his daughter was useful for making babies. And Tyrion… well, we know all about how Tywin felt about Tyrion, but that will come a little later. Tywin ruled through authority and fear, and after his death he left behind a broken, dysfunctional family that is slowly breaking apart.

Tywin often pushes his own wishes for his children onto them, blind to their own true feelings and the truth of the world around him. Yet Tywin was a man who also was extremely conflicted internally, and the person who best exemplifies that is Tyrion. He hates Tyrion for his disability and for “killing” Joanna when he was born, taking every opportunity to belittle him; having Jaime lie to him about Tysha, having Tysha gang raped in front of Tyrion, undoing his marriage, forcing him to be put in charge of the sewers of Casterly Rock for this 16th nameday. Yet despite everything, Tyrion represents something Tywin refuses to acknowledge or see; he is a mirror to himself.

Tywin hates Tyrion’s “twisted” appearance and his sleeping around with lowborn women. One could say that Tywin’s true self was ugly and twisted (although it’s a little uncomfortable to use Tyrion’s disability in that light). Although not confirmed yet, there are very strong hints that Tywin’s hatred of Tyrion & Tysha, and later Tyrion & Shae, is him projecting his self hatred for doing exactly the same thing as his father. Shae was not in Tywin’s bed for no reason. And GRRM says that there is something more to this that will be revealed later, in an interview after season 4 finished airing;

Right, and there’s also the surprise at Tywin’s hypocrisy when he finds her in his bed. Did Tywin know she was a prostitute [in the book version that’s not clear]? Or did he just not care? Oh, I think Tywin knew about Shae. He probably figured out she was the same camp-follower that he expressly said “you will not bring that whore to court,” and that Tyrion defied him again and did bring that whore to court. As to precisely what happened here, that’s something I don’t really want to talk about because there’s still aspects of it I haven’t revealed that will be revealed in later books. But the role of Varys in all of this is also something to be considered.

There is also a tunnel that leads to Chataya’s brothel that was built for a certain Hand;

"The tunnel was dug for another King's Hand, whose honor would not allow him to enter such a house openly. Chataya has closely guarded the knowledge of its existence."

GRRM has also been very tight-lipped about who the Hand was. But given that a revelation is to come from Shae being in Tywin’s bed, and this conspicuousness about the tunnel for a Hand, this tunnel was almost certainly built by Tywin. It fits with the overall theme of Tywin and House Lannister; a house whose reputation is built off being prestigious, proud, and noble, but underneath the shiny gold is an empty vessel. It’s all fake, covering up the truth of Casterly Rock. Tyrion is the only one who truly exemplifies what Tywin wanted in his family, yet he is the one Tywin hates the most. In Jaime’s dream sequence in his last chapter in AFFC, he is visited by his mother Joanna, who says;

"We all dream of things we cannot have. Tywin dreamed that his son would be a great knight, that his daughter would be a queen. He dreamed they would be so strong and brave and beautiful that no one would ever laugh at them." "I am a knight," he told her, "and Cersei is a queen."

Jaime misses the point; he is hated by the world because he killed the king he was sworn to protect, who fucked his own sister and produced three bastards with her, a dishonourable knight. Cersei is similarly hated for the same treason. Tywin’s dream legacy never came true, and he was blind to the fact it never would.

Jaime, just like Cersei, tries to live up to his father’s legacy, despite that not being what he truly wants. At first, when he leaves King’s Landing for the Riverlands, he refuses to wear the golden hand Tywin had made for him, but later decides;

When the invitation came down from the castle for him to sup with Lady Hayford's castellan, Jaime took Ser Ilyn with him, along with Ser Addam Marbrand, Ser Bonifer Hasty, Red Ronnet Connington, Strongboar, and a dozen other knights and lordlings. "I suppose I ought to wear the hand," he said to Peck before making his ascent. The lad fetched it straightaway. The hand was wrought of gold, very lifelike, with inlaid nails of mother-of-pearl, its fingers and thumb half closed so as to slip around a goblet's stem. I cannot fight, but I can drink, Jaime reflected as the lad was tightening the straps that bound it to his stump.

His aunt Genna even tells him that he’s not Tywin’s heir, that Tyrion is;

"Jaime," she said, tugging on his ear, "sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna's breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there's some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak . . . but Tyrion is Tywin's son, not you. I said so once to your father's face, and he would not speak to me for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years."

Determined to prove himself Tywin’s true son, he confronts a captive Edmure to yield Riverrun, and when he doesn’t;

Must you make me say the words? Pia was standing by the flap of the tent with her arms full of clothes. His squires were listening as well, and the singer. Let them hear, Jaime thought. Let the world hear. It makes no matter. He forced himself to smile, "You've seen our numbers, Edmure. You've seen the ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my coz will bridge your moat and break your gate. Hundreds will die, most of them your own. Your former bannermen will make up the first wave of attackers, so you'll start your day by killing the fathers and brothers of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, I have no lack of those. My westermen will follow when your archers are short of arrows and your knights so weary they can hardly lift their blades. When the castle falls, all those inside will be put to the sword. Your herds will be butchered, your godswood will be felled, your keeps and towers will burn. I'll pull your walls down, and divert the Tumblestone over the ruins. By the time I'm done no man will ever know that a castle once stood here." Jaime got to his feet. "Your wife may whelp before that. You'll want your child, I expect. I'll send him to you when he's born. With a trebuchet."

Redemption is a major part of Jaime’s story, but it is not a straightforward redemption. GRRM instead describes it more an exploration of what redemption means, if it can be made, not giving a solid answer on whether it is possible;

One of the things I wanted to explore with Jaime, and with so many of the characters, is the whole issue of redemption. When can we be redeemed? Is redemption even possible? I don’t have an answer. But when do we forgive people? You see it all around in our society, in constant debates. Should we forgive Michael Vick? I have friends who are dog-lovers who will never forgive Michael Vick. Michael Vick has served years in prison; he’s apologized. Has he apologized sufficiently?

And throughout AFFC, I do not see Jaime as someone who is making huge strides in his redemption, that he has truly become a good person. I see someone who is seriously struggling with that and his own identity. Jaime deciding to wear the golden hand is not a sign he has moved on, it’s regression back to his old state, of a fake hand made of gold;

“Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord," the armorer had assured him the first time he'd fitted it onto Jaime's wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.

Jaime is also obsessed with Cersei cheating on him. The quote from Tyrion “she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know” comes up a fuck ton in Jaime’s chapters in AFFC, and again in ADWD. The amount of times he’s thought about it makes it clear to me that he’s not over Cersei yet. He is angry, disappointed, and feeling betrayed, but the way he’s obsessing over it seems to me he is not quite over her yet.

Jaime has changed somewhat, for sure, but it’s not quite to the degree that some of the fandom has thought. He does want to keep Catelyn's oath of not taking up arms against Stark or Tully ever again, but he prioritizes his duties to the Iron Throne before anything else;

I​​f the Blackfish would not listen, he would have no choice but to break the vow he'd made to Catelyn Stark. The vow he'd sworn his king came first.

Jaime seems to be trying his hardest to live up to the expectations of a true knight of the Kingsguard;

"My place is with the king, my lady."

"Whatever we do needs to be done quickly," he told Ser Daven. "My place is back at King's Landing, with the king."

"My place is with the king. I shall not stay here long."

Yet he also wants to be closer to Tommen and Myrcella. Not as a knight of the Kingsguard, but as their father. He even talks to Tommen at Tywin’s wake. His thoughts also show he wants to tell the truth of their parentage;

Once he found the Blackfish, he would be free to return to King's Landing, where he belonged. My place is with my king. With my son. Would Tommen want to know that? The truth could cost the boy his throne. Would you sooner have a father or a chair, lad? Jaime wished he knew the answer. He does like stamping papers with his seal. The boy might not even believe him, to be sure. Cersei would say it was a lie. My sweet sister, the deceiver. He would need to find some way to winkle Tommen from her clutches before the boy became another Joffrey. And whilst at that, he should find the lad a new small council too.

Past time this was ended, thought Jaime Lannister. With Riverrun now safely in Lannister hands, Raventree was the remnant of the Young Wolf's short-lived kingdom. Once it yielded, his work along the Trident would be done, and he would be free to return to King's Landing. To the king, he told himself, but another part of him whispered, to Cersei. He would have to face her, he supposed. Assuming the High Septon had not put her to death by the time he got back to the city.

He thought of Myrcella. I will need to tell her too. The Dornishmen might not like that. Doran Martell had betrothed her to his son in the belief that she was Robert's blood. Knots and tangles, Jaime thought, wishing he could cut through all of it with one swift stroke of his sword.

So Jaime is very much in the mindset to return to King’s Landing. However, there is one thing that complicates this; Brienne.

Brienne has lured him away towards Stoneheart, and the two have now been missing for over a month. Lady Stoneheart is another enormous topic that would make this bloated essay even more bloated if I talked about it today, but one thing to consider going into this is that despite Jaime’s want to be more honourable and keep his vows, he is still doing it all for himself. All the Lannisters have an air of superiority and narcissism, and it’d be remiss to not mention that Jaime also falls victim to that. He doesn’t show regret over his attempted murder of Bran, or of his own involvement in starting a devastating war. He even calls his own children “Cersei’s three treasons” as if he wasn’t a part of it. As noted, he still has a long way to go in his redemption.

Jaime is someone who obviously cares heavily about what people think of him, and he is worried about his legacy. Yet because he doesn’t do serious self reflection on his previous actions or apologize, him doing good deeds ultimately is to make himself feel better, rather than make up for the wrongs he’s done;

No Wodes appeared, nor any of their smallfolk, though some outlaws had taken shelter in the root cellar beneath the second brother's keep. One of them wore the ruins of a crimson cloak, but Jaime hanged him with the rest. It felt good. This was justice. Make a habit of it, Lannister, and one day men might call you Goldenhand after all. Goldenhand the Just.

Here Jaime is daydreaming about what people will call him in the future, hoping it will be positive and glorious. This doesn’t sound like someone who is doing this to be better to people, it sounds like someone doing it for themselves and wanting to be validated. Jaime has some legitimate reasons to have validation, but ultimately this process is more about himself, and he cannot do any significant change to himself until he starts to look back on what he has done in the past instead of merely looking at himself.

This fits in with Lady Stoneheart because it could (and almost certainly will) have massive implications for his arc going forward. He is about to be put on trial for something he didn’t do, and encounter a woman he thought dead who now wants him dead despite trying to keep to the vow he swore to her. There is also Brienne’s betrayal to take into consideration; Brienne, who prides herself on being a true knight, swearing her vows and taking them to the grave, someone Jaime looks up to as a reflection of who he wants to be. And yet she is lying to him, luring him into a trap meant to be his death.

How will Jaime react to see the person he most views as honourable and chivalrous, a symbol of who he wishes he was, lying to him, bringing him to a revenant who wants him dead for something he had no involvement in? Could this be the beginning of serious self-reflection? Or is this going to muddy his own view of who Brienne is, who he is and wishes to be, and bring him back into the arms of Cersei? It’s very hard to see how this will change him, which is why I’m leaving it unanswered here, other than I think he will return to King’s Landing eventually (who he’ll be by then is up for debate). Hot take, I know, but I hope to get into why he will when I inevitably write about Stoneheart, and this essay is about Cersei.

Speaking of, more than anything, we should also look at Jaime’s arc and compare it to that of Cersei. Things changing for him after he loses the most important thing to him; his sword hand. It kickstarts a massive character arc that is only just beginning. Meanwhile, Cersei has lost her pride, respect, and now her beauty, the most important things to her. This to me strongly suggests that Cersei’s story is far, far from over, and that this is merely a catalyst for long term character development. This doesn’t mean she will be going through the same exploration of redemption that Jaime does, but she will be changing into someone different, and if she were dying off quickly, this would be pointless.

I anticipate that Cersei will be more calculating and subtle and effective at playing the game of thrones, now that she has learned that what she did before wasn't working. The Cersei we see in the epilogue I anticipate to be the Cersei we see going forward. Even in this moment I think she's being genuine;

"The Wall, if they admit their guilt. If they deny it, they can face Ser Robert. Such men should never have been raised so high." Cersei lowered her head. "I … I misjudged them." "You misjudged a good many men, it seems."

Both these siblings are going through their own arcs, which are heavily intertwined with each other, going on parallel journeys, their own losses, their own developments. They are both very important characters for the future, and there is a reason why GRRM has written them in both as POVs.

The Reign of Cersei the Cruel

Boomeranging back from Jaime in the Riverlands to our protagonist today, Cersei in King’s Landing, what is next for our queen? Cersei is in a much different place at the end of ADWD then at the beginning of AFFC;

“Whatever Cersei may have done, she is still a daughter of the Rock, of mine own blood. I will not let her die a traitor's death, but I have made sure to draw her fangs. All her guards have been dismissed and replaced with my own men. In place of her former ladies-in-waiting, she will henceforth be attended by a septa and three novices selected by the High Septon. She is to have no further voice in the governance of the realm, nor in Tommen's education. I mean to return her to Casterly Rock after the trial and see that she remains there. Let that suffice."

We’ll look back at the septas in a moment. By the end of the epilogue, Kevan & Pycelle are dead, because Kevan was too competent and Varys needs to destabilize the realm and allow Aegon to gain more and more support;

"I thought the crossbow fitting. You shared so much with Lord Tywin, why not that? Your niece will think the Tyrells had you murdered, mayhaps with the connivance of the Imp. The Tyrells will suspect her. Someone somewhere will find a way to blame the Dornishmen. Doubt, division, and mistrust will eat the very ground beneath your boy king, whilst Aegon raises his banner above Storm's End and the lords of the realm gather round him."

This epilogue is merely a taste of what is to come in TWOW. I believe Varys is right about what happens next; Cersei will suspect the Tyrells & Tyrion, & the Tyrells will suspect her. This will slowly weaken the fragile Lannister-Tyrell alliance, especially since Mace was promised that Cersei would return to Casterly Rock.

The killing of Pycelle only further cements the distrust. Despite being a Lannister sycophant, he was also a very long serving grand maester, and has much and more knowledge that could be useful should Cersei decide to start following his advice. In addition, think back to ASOS, when after Tyrion has Pycelle removed from the small council, Tywin puts him back. The reason is stated by Varys;

“Thankfully, wiser heads prevailed, and the Conclave accepted the fact of Pycelle's dismissal and set about choosing his successor. After giving due consideration to Maester Turquin the cordwainer's son and Maester Erreck the hedge knight's bastard, and thereby demonstrating to their own satisfaction that ability counts for more than birth in their order, the Conclave was on the verge of sending us Maester Gormon, a Tyrell of Highgarden. When I told your lord father, he acted at once."

Here we see Varys skillfully playing the game. With Pycelle now dead, there is no choice but to replace Pycelle, and there is a good chance that he is replaced with Maester Gormon. With another Tyrell on the small council, it creates even more division and mistrust between the two factions, and makes Cersei even more convinced that the Tyrells are behind the assassinations.

As for who will be regent after Kevan’s death, Mace Tyrell would be glad to take the office. This all depends on when the issue of the regent is settled, but I think the ultimate goal for Varys is to have Cersei back in charge; she may be more subtle, more aware, but she’s not going to be liked much more. As I believe, this means that Cersei would win her trial. In fact, I don’t see either Margaery or Cersei losing their trials. For starters, the High Sparrow is using Tommen as a proxy king to legitimize his power, and by making Cersei and Margaery guilty, it would mean Tommen’s legitimacy dismissed, no longer making him king, no longer legitimizing the High Sparrow’s power, and destroy the Tyrell alliance. Given the Tyrells have brought a shit ton of men, the High Sparrow has to be smart enough to realize that making her guilty would merely guarantee his destruction.

Even disregarding that, it’s unlikely both will be found guilty anyways. Cersei has a resurrected Gregor Clegane as her champion in a trial by combat, and there’s no doubt he’ll win that. As for his opponent, I don’t believe it will be anyone of significance. The point is Cersei wins and also shows off Ser Robert Strong to the world as a threat to what happens to those who challenge her. As for Margaery, although she has chosen a traditional trial by septons and septas, the evidence against her is weak;

"Randyll Tarly insisted. He was the first to reach King's Landing when this storm broke, and he brought his army with him. The Tyrell girls will still be tried, but the case against them is weak, His High Holiness admits. All of the men named as the queen's lovers have denied the accusation or recanted, save for your maimed singer, who appears to be half-mad. So the High Septon handed the girls over to Tarly's custody and Lord Randyll swore a holy oath to deliver them for trial when the time comes."

We also know from two sample chapters for TWOW that this is likely the case. Harys Swyft was sent to secure a loan from the Iron Bank in the epilogue and appears in Mercy;

"How long do you think we'll be here?" "Longer than you'd like," the old man replied. "If he goes back without the gold the queen will have his head.”

This sure sounds like something Cersei would do if Harys fails. Granted, this chapter was originally written for ADWD, for a 5-year time skip, so it may be subject to change, so it’s unknown. In the epilogue we learn that Mace Tyrell will not return to Storm’s End until Margaery’s innocence is proven;

"He cannot take Storm's End. Not if he were Aegon the Conqueror. And if he does, what of it? Stannis holds it now. Let the castle pass from one pretender to another, why should that trouble us? I shall recapture it after my daughter's innocence is proved."

Arianne II, when Arianne arrives at Griffin’s Roost;

“A ship will have the princess there in half a day or less. There is an army descending on Storm’s End from King’s Landing. You will want to be safe inside the walls before the battle.”

Later it is clarified that it is Mace Tyrell marching on Storm’s End. Thus, Margaery’s innocence is proven. With Mace leaving King’s Landing, that would indeed put Cersei back in charge. In addition to dealing with the Tyrells and the Faith, there is yet another party coming to King’s Landing; the Dornish, specifically Nymeria Sand, Oberyn’s bastard daughter. Another daughter is also coming, Tyene, but she will be undercover as a septa in the Great Sept of Baelor to learn more about the High Sparrow. Nymeria is to sit on the small council and act as a voice and spy for Dorne. Cersei at first invited Prince Doran with his son Trystane to King’s Landing, all in a ploy to get Trystane killed, freeing Myrcella of her betrothal, and frame it on Tyrion;

“This invitation Cersei sent us is a ruse. Trystane is never meant to reach King's Landing. On the road back, somewhere in the kingswood, Ser Balon's party will be attacked by outlaws, and my son will die. I am asked to court only so that I may witness this attack with my own eyes and thereby absolve the queen of any blame. Oh, and these outlaws? They will be shouting, 'Halfman, Halfman,' as they attack. Ser Balon may even catch a quick glimpse of the Imp, though no one else will."

Since Doran is aware of this, he leaves Trystane at Sunspear and has Nymeria be looked after by a strong escort, while Ser Balon hunts Darkstar in Dorne;

Nym and Tyene may have reached King’s Landing by now, she mused, as she settled down crosslegged by the mouth of the cave to watch the rain fall. If not they ought to be there soon. Three hundred seasoned spears had gone with them, over the Boneway, past the ruins of Summerhall, and up the kingsroad. If the Lannisters had tried to spring their little trap, Lady Nym would have seen that it ended in disaster. Nor would the murderers have found their prey. Prince Trystane had remained safely back at Sunspear, after a tearful parting from Princess Myrcella.

There’s no way Cersei’s plot will be successful, and seeing Nymeria in King’s Landing safe without Trystane might once again show her that what she was doing before was not working very well. Also of note is that the Tyrells hate the Dornish, since Willas was crippled by Oberyn in a joust, and Kevan has yet to tell Mace that Nymeria is coming;

The seventh voice would be the Dornishwoman now escorting Myrcella home. The Lady Nym. But no lady, if even half of what Qyburn reports is true. A bastard daughter of the Red Viper, near as notorious as her father and intent on claiming the council seat that Prince Oberyn himself had occupied so briefly. Ser Kevan had not yet seen fit to inform Mace Tyrell of her coming. The Hand, he knew, would not be pleased.

And now that Kevan was killed before he could inform Mace, this means Mace might be caught off guard when she arrives and not let her in. But given that it’d be a narrative waste for Nymeria and Tyene to never enter King’s Landing and do important things there, they likely will be let in, possibly at the behest of Cersei wanting to use Nym to her advantage to weaken the Tyrells. As for what they will do themselves, that is best left to ponder when I talk about Dorne at a later date, but we’ll get to some of what might happen.

With all of this in mind, where does Cersei go from here? She won’t be able to do what she has done before. Not only do I think she’ll have learned that herself, but she can’t. The High Sparrow has a septa and three novices looking after Cersei to ensure that she remain faithful and complacent;

The meal was served by three novices, well-scrubbed girls of good birth between the ages of twelve and sixteen. In their soft white woolens, each seemed more innocent and unworldly than the last, yet the High Septon had insisted that no girl spend more than seven days in the queen's service, lest Cersei corrupt her. They tended the queen's wardrobe, drew her bath, poured her wine, changed her bedclothes of a morning. One shared the queen's bed every night, to ascertain she had no other company; the other two slept in an adjoining chamber with the septa who looked over them.

Looked at closely by agents of the High Sparrow, Cersei is restricted in what she can do now. The septas are also very important when one considers Tyene. She is an expert at poisons, and it is very possible for her to take up the position of the septa looking after Cersei if she gets close to the High Sparrow, using it to get close to poison someone. Someone, perhaps, like King Tommen? He’s on the list of people Nymeria would like to kill, along with Cersei herself and Jaime. Tommen is definitely dying as Maggy’s prophecy explicitly states so, and if anything will bring her back to the depths of her paranoia and cruelty, it’s the prophecy coming more and more true.

It should also be of interest to see Myrcella and Cersei interacting again. They’ve been far apart, and Myrcella seemed to enjoy being in Dorne. She is also nothing like her mother;

It was true. Tommen was a good-hearted little man who always tried his best, but the last time Ser Arys saw him he had been weeping on the quay. Myrcella never shed a tear, though it was she who was leaving hearth and home to seal an alliance with her maidenhood. The truth was, the princess was braver than her brother, and brighter and more confident as well. Her wits were quicker, her courtesies more polished. Nothing ever daunted her, not even Joffrey.

Because of this, I think it’d be interesting if unlike Tommen, who is timid and cowers to his mothers demands, and Joffrey who was simply too cruel to control, that Cersei has trouble with Myrcella, who enjoyed her time in Dorne and is unafraid to express her opinions and objections. It could also be useful showing her embodying traits that Cersei herself wish she had, and act as a foil for her mother, symbolising the type of queen Cersei wants to be.

What possible moves could Cersei make at this point to strengthen herself? There is one option, one she thoroughly rejected at first, but could end up making anyways. When Kevan refuses the Handship after Cersei refuses to leave King’s Landing, and Jaime refuses the title as well, Kevan gives her advice;

“If you will not yield the regency to me, name me your castellan for Casterly Rock and make either Mathis Rowan or Randyll Tarly the Hand of the King." Tyrell bannermen, both of them. The suggestion left her speechless. Is he bought? she wondered. Has he taken Tyrell gold to betray House Lannister? "Mathis Rowan is sensible, prudent, well liked," her uncle went on, oblivious. "Randyll Tarly is the finest soldier in the realm. A poor Hand for peacetime, but with Tywin dead there's no better man to finish this war. Lord Tyrell cannot take offense if you choose one of his own bannermen as Hand. Both Tarly and Rowan are able men . . . and loyal. Name either one, and you make him yours. You strengthen yourself and weaken Highgarden, yet Mace will likely thank you for it." He gave a shrug. "That is my counsel, take it or no. You may make Moon Boy your Hand for all I care. My brother is dead, woman. I am going to take him home."

If Cersei can be put aside, Ser Kevan may agree to serve as Tommen's Hand. And if not, well, the Seven Kingdoms did not lack for able men. Forley Prester would make a good choice, or Roland Crakehall. If someone other than a westerman was needed to appease the Tyrells, there was always Mathis Rowan . . . or even Petyr Baelish. Littlefinger was as amiable as he was clever, but too lowborn to threaten any of the great lords, with no swords of his own. The perfect Hand.

Randyll Tarly left the hall with his liege lord, their green-cloaked spearmen right behind them. Tarly is the real danger, Ser Kevan reflected as he watched their departure. A narrow man, but iron-willed and shrewd, and as good a soldier as the Reach could boast. But how do I win him to our side?

With Mathis Rowan at Storm’s End, this leaves Randyll Tarly as a reasonable option for the Handship or even Lord Regent, if Cersei isn’t put back in charge immediately after Kevan’s death. As contradictory as it seems for Cersei to suddenly appoint a Tyrell bannerman to a higher position, she doesn’t have much of a choice. She either makes a move or she doesn’t. She might remember Kevan’s suggestion to her and take it, using Randyll for her own ends. Do also remember Unwin Peake during the Regency of Aegon III, his similarities with Mace Tyrell and Randyll Tarly, and the fact he was named Hand of the King and Lord Protector.

As for the Tyrells, once Margaery is acquitted, I believe she’ll try to befriend the High Sparrow and the Faith Militant. This is what the Tyrells do best; befriend people and help them while strengthening themselves. With the High Sparrow gaining more and more power, instead of making him an enemy, Margaery will support him and the Faith Militant. There’s also the possibility that Tommen & Myrcella befriend the High Sparrow, to the chagrin of Cersei. If the Tyrells try to make allies of the Faith, that will make for another great back and forth between Cersei and Margaery when it comes to scheming.

The High Sparrow will of course continue to gain power. There used to be chapters of the Warrior’s Sons in Gulltown, Lannisport, Stoney Sept, and Oldtown. Using the Iron Throne as a proxy to legitimize his power, I think he’s going to want to spread his ideology across Westeros, and having cities reopen chapters of a holy army he can control sounds like one way to make himself more powerful. Even if the High Sparrow dies, his revolution won’t, and it will continue to be a problem. The author says as much;

Q: Religion increasing as focus in series? GRRM: The religious revival of Westeros will continue to grow in series.

There is also an unresolved plotline within the Lannister-Tyrell feud that I feel will 100% be brought to the forefront somehow in TWOW; Cersei thinks Tyrion was involved with poisoning Joffrey, but it was actually the Tyrells who poisoned him. The fact she doesn’t know this seems significant, and it seems like it’s merely a matter of time she finds out. The only issue is how she will find out. Only a select few people know the truth, including; Littlefinger, Sansa, Olenna, & Margaery.

Margaery is only included because since she and Joffrey were sharing the chalice, it seems reckless not to let her know that it would be used to hide the poison later on. Littlefinger would not want his involvement known, as it would severely damage his reputation. Olenna & Margaery would 100% not want to let it be known unless they wanted Cersei to kill them all. Surprisingly, Sansa might be the best one to reveal the truth. If her cover is blown in the Vale, she knows that the Tyrells were involved. She could reveal the Tyrells were behind it while leaving Littlefinger out of it (either at his behest or to use him at a later time) to get Cersei to focus her rage on the Tyrells, who are in her immediate range, while Sansa is far away and uses Cersei’s immediate anger as a distraction.

This is speculative, but the Lannister-Tyrell alliance is not going to last much longer, and Joffrey’s death coming back into the plot seems entirely reasonable. Cersei's reaction might even mirror that of Maegor, once more. When Alys Harroway was accused of adultery, he had her and her entire family killed, marching on Harrenhal and Harroway’s Town to utterly rip them out root and stem, handing the prizes over to someone loyal to him. The Tyrells, like the Lannisters with the Red Wedding, broke guest right by killing Joffrey, and it would be thematically poignant to show the Tyrells, who are merely better looking Lannisters (from a PR standpoint), being punished for something people don’t believe they could’ve done, despite being well liked.

Although using the show as a basis for a theory is frowned upon, and not always the most reliable, perhaps what the show portrayed wasn’t too far off from the truth. The Lannisters taking Highgarden, all their wealth, and putting an end to the rule of the Tyrells. Do keep in mind the house words of the Lannisters again; hear me roar. If Cersei finds out, she’s going to want to punish their family to the fullest extent, and not hold back. It’s also quite likely that she’s going to deal with the Faith Militant similarly, thanks to Ser Robert Strong at her side. In the show Cersei blew up the Great Sept of Baelor with wildfire, killing all her enemies in a single swoop. However, the wildfire under the sept in the books has been found and removed, and D&D have implied it to be their own creation, a way to end Cersei’s struggle with the Faith & Margaery quickly.

Although it may not be blown up with wildfire, the Faith Militant are going to get wrecked. This last line from Cersei’s ADWD chapter;

"If it please Your Grace, Ser Robert has taken a holy vow of silence," Qyburn said. "He has sworn that he will not speak until all of His Grace's enemies are dead and evil has been driven from the realm." Yes, thought Cersei Lannister. Oh, yes.

Looking at Maegor, her best parallel, any sort of massacre at the Great Sept of Baelor will be her Sept of Remembrance moment. The massacre will inflame the common people against her and lead to a larger war against the Faith Militant, just as Maegor did when he burned the Sept of Remembrance. Even if things get worse for her, I don’t see her going back to Casterly Rock anymore. It’d make her walk of shame ultimately meaningless if nothing changes and she returns to her home as she wanted to before. She’s resolved to rule, and she won’t give up what she considers her birthright. She either stays in King’s Landing and lives, or stays there and dies. There’s little chance she’s dying in TWOW either. In GRRM’s own words;

And the rest of what GRRM says here is a huge part of Cersei’s story arc. She is trying to overcome the misogyny of Westeros so she can be in power. Many people in the stories are writing her off and using them for her own ends, thinking she's not capable of doing much. It'd be fitting for her to rise above that, in her own way.

The Lannister Complex

To close off this essay, we will finally look at the major cornerstone of Cersei’s story, the driving force behind many of her actions in the series. As a child, Cersei went with two friends; Melara Hetherspoon & Jeyne Farman, to visit a witch known as Maggy the Frog, who could read their futures. In that tent, after taking Cersei’s blood, she allowed Cersei to ask three questions;

"When will I wed the prince?" she asked. "Never. You will wed the king."

As Cersei thinks to herself, she thought this would mean that Aerys would die and Rhaegar would become king. Instead, as she and the audience knows now, this was her marriage to Robert. Rather straightforward.

"I will be queen, though?" asked the younger her. "Aye." Malice gleamed in Maggy's yellow eyes. "Queen you shall be . . . until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear."

Here is where we enter into territory that is entirely uncharted. Cersei seems to believe Margaery is the younger, more beautiful queen to cast her down and take all that she holds dear. She is younger, she is very beautiful, and she takes her position as queen consort, and is everything she wishes she was. However, the phrasing of “cast you down” and “taking all that you hold dear” sounds like something far more serious. What exactly does it mean taking all that she holds dear? Her prestige, her beauty?

There could be an argument made for Margaery ultimately being the younger more beautiful queen; metaphorically, she has everything that Cersei has now lost thanks to her walk of shame. However, Cersei is also obsessed with having the Iron Throne, believing it to be her birthright, as she does with Casterly Rock. Would Margaery ever rule the Iron Throne, or take Casterly Rock? I find this unlikely. So who else could it be? Sansa is another suggestion, and now doubt when Sansa was betrothed to Joffrey she thought she would be the queen from Maggy’s prophecy. If she actually does anything with her marriage to Tyrion, then perhaps Sansa will take Casterly Rock in a way.

The problem with this is that Sansa’s story is gravitating northwards, not southwards. I don’t think she’ll end up with Tyrion regardless, but this is a conversation for another day. She also doesn’t really want the Iron Throne either. If, as I speculated above, Myrcella becomes a foil for Cersei and they have friction, she could also be the younger more beautiful queen, but given how all her children are to die I doubt she will cast her own mother down. Another option is Arianne Martell, whom many have theorized will marry Aegon to secure a Dornish alliance with House Targaryen. Her marriage could lead to the events that lead to Aegon taking the Iron Throne, but I also have issues with this. For starters, I don’t believe Arianne is going to be content simply being a consort. Again, when I write about Aegon and Dorne, I’ll further explain it there.

Secondly, it wouldn’t be Arianne actually casting Cersei down, it would be Aegon. If you view it as metaphorical, then perhaps it just means that Arianne sets her eventual downfall in motion. However, I think that ignores a huge part of Cersei’s plotline; specifically her struggle between making her way in a misogynistic society while also dealing with heavy internalized misogyny herself. It’s more thematically fitting for her downfall to come from a woman herself, not a woman who helps a man. A woman who wields power on her own without the help of anyone else. In my mind, this leaves one queen to be the strongest candidate to replace Cersei; Daenerys.

The two have many, many parallels, and deliberately so. In fact, GRRM has spoken many times about their similarities;

​​Cersei and Daenerys are intended as parallel characters –each exploring a different approach to how a woman would rule in a male dominated, medieval-inspired fantasy world.

While discussing how he writes his female characters, he also mentioned that splitting the books as he did this time meant we didn’t get the parallel between how Danaerys and Cersei both approach the task of leadership, which is a bit of a shame.

And that one of the things he regrets losing from the POV split is that he was doing point and counterpoint with the Dany and Cersei scenes–showing how each was ruling in their turn.

It’s obvious to see the similarities; two women who were taught the Iron Throne belonged to them/their family and it is their destiny to get it back, ruling on their own, making their way through a heavily sexist society. But as the first quote indicates, they have two different types of leadership styles. Cersei is a classical narcissist, believing people serve her and she deserves all the power and peoples respect out of entitlement. Everything she does in King’s Landing is to serve herself. When Daenerys rules Meereen, everything she does is to serve the people at the expense of her own feelings. She doesn’t want to leave Meereen as she did Astapor so she stays behind to ensure stability.

She doesn’t want to have thousands die in war with enemies at every corner, so she agrees to a peace to stop the terrorist attacks from the Sons of the Harpy. She even puts aside an offer of marriage from Dorne in Westeros in order to ensure peace in Meereen. She sacrifices her desire to go to Westeros, her identity as a Targaryen, even her own body to ensure that Meereen successfully remains a free city. In addition, Cersei deals with heavy internalized misogyny, looking down upon her own gender while also feeling extremely alienated by the patriarchy. Dany deals with this very differently, and often tells people “I am only a young girl” while providing facts that show she is more than just a young girl.

Despite these differences, there are very distinct parallels and similarities between the two in their journeys; when Daenerys lost Drogo’s khalasar, then Drogo himself, she walked into the pyre and emerged unharmed, naked, her hair burned off, now with three newly hatched dragons in her arms. Filled with resolve, yet at her lowest after losing everything she cared about. Now compare this to Cersei’s walk of atonement. She is stripped naked, has her hair cut off, and is forced to walk through the city to “atone for her sins”. Having lost her beauty, any respect she ever had beforehand, she comes to the Red Keep, being carried by a resurrected Mountain, a vehicle for violence and power, a sort of inverse to Dany’s dragons.

In many works of fiction, a woman losing/having her hair cut off is used to signify a symbolic change in their lives, and as Daenerys is more focused and resolved in who she is, Cersei is as well. Cersei’s end in ADWD also parallels Dany’s end. Cersei is carried off to safety by her new protector into the Red Keep, while Daenerys is found by a khalasar that split from Drogo’s khalasar led by Khal Jhaqo, one of his bloodriders being Mago, whom Daenerys despises, her fate as yet unknown. The parallels between the two I anticipate to continue growing in TWOW, as they go on similar journeys of becoming more powerful and capable after reaching a low point.

The point is, with these two being so closely mirrored, it makes perfect sense for the younger more beautiful queen to be Daenerys. Not only does she actually want the Iron Throne and King’s Landing, Tyrion is looking to join her cause, and wants Casterly Rock as well. With that, Daenerys would take everything she holds dear. For those reasons, I strongly believe Dany is the queen in the prophecy, and it makes for a fitting end for Cersei. But that wasn’t everything;

She still had one more question due her, one more glimpse into her life to come. "Will the king and I have children?" she asked. "Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you." That made no sense to Cersei. Her thumb was throbbing where she'd cut it, and her blood was dripping on the carpet. How could that be? she wanted to ask, but she was done with her questions. The old woman was not done with her, however. "Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds," she said. "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."

This is the most important part of the prophecy. Maggy says that Cersei will have three children (Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella), all bastards with Jaime, while Robert has 16 bastards. We have thus far only accounted for around 5, so it will be interesting to see if anymore bastards of Robert’s pop up in the story.

Their crowns being gold can mean two things; one is that they will all be kings/queens and wear the crown as befits their status, the other is that the “crown” is their hair and they’ll have the same golden hair as her. However, given that this is about what will happen in the future, I’m inclined to believe that all three, including Myrcella, will be crowned as rulers of the Seven Kingdoms (#GirlBoss). However, shrouds are cloths used in ceremonial burials for the deceased, and as thus, this means that Cersei’s children will all die before her. This is essentially all well known, but this is establishing for the real mystery; the valonqar.

One thing to get out of the way; there are a lot of theories that say that because Valyrian is genderless (which it isn’t), valonqar can mean “little sister”, but there are two glaring problems with this. One is the fact we are told it means “little brother”, and the other is that Maggy explicitly states “the valonqar shall wrap his hands around your throat”. So we can safely discount any theories that it’s Arya or some other woman, it’s a man who kills her. The mystery being which man. Cersei believes it to be Tyrion, as she resents him greatly. The fandom consensus seems to be that it’s actually Jaime, who is technically her little brother since he was born right after her, and the two are growing more distant.

There are a multitude of other theories as well, that posit it could be Euron, Victarion, or even Tommen. Again, the wording here is very specific, as it doesn’t state a valonqar, but the valonqar. The only valonqar. And given this is in relation to her children, and given that her story arc is heavily tied to the relationships between her own family, the valonqar is almost certainly someone in her family. So this leaves me three options; Jaime, Tyrion, or Tommen. Tommen can be discounted for several reasons; for one, the valonqar will kill her after all her children die and she is drowning in her tears from grief. There is always Qyburn who can resurrect Tommen and Tommen kills Cersei, but I fail to see the narrative and emotional logic behind this.

A very strong contender for the role of valonqar is Jaime. Besides the obvious, the two have been drifting apart recently (although as I’ve stated I think they’re going to interact again), and it would add to the tragedy of Cersei’s death coming from the person she loved the most in the world. However, Jaime only has one hand, the other not useful in choking a woman’s neck. A possibility is that Jaime chokes Cersei with the golden Hand of the King chain as Tyrion did with Shae. There is, admittedly, foreshadowing for Jaime at some point taking up a Hand of the King role, and there is the song that Symon Silver Tongue made to blackmail Tyrion. “Hands of gold are always cold, but a woman’s hands are warm”. This was foreshadowing for Tyrion’s murder of Shae, but could also apply to Jaime, if he is Hand of the King, strangling Cersei with the chain of office that was bestowed upon him.

Yet, despite how this does make a poetic amount of sense, I have some caveats to Jaime being the valonqar. If he is the valonqar, then he’s not going to kill Cersei to save someone else or put her out of her misery. Strangling someone to death is not something you do if you want to put someone out of their misery or save someone quickly. That implies an intense level of hatred, something deeply personal, and takes effort to do. Jaime could certainly develop that hatred towards Cersei, but there is someone who already has; Tyrion. I know, Tyrion Lannister, the man Cersei believes is the valonqar, might be the valonqar all along. It seems almost too on the nose, too predictable. I can explain.

A common reaction to Cersei’s actions is that she is intensely paranoid and accuses people of things they aren’t doing. She definitely does that, but in the big picture, she isn’t wrong. She may not be a competent person and not command much respect because of that, but the misogyny of everyone else is still a factor in why she’s not taken seriously. She worries that Tyrion is hiding in the walls. Tyrion isn’t hiding there, but Varys and his little birds absolutely are. She worries that the Tyrells are plotting against her, and she is 1000% right here! She is worried that Tyrion is plotting to kill her and he is! For all the flack she gets about being delusional and paranoid, her concerns are very real, and a constant source of dread for her.

With this in mind, I have an alternate interpretation of the valonqar and what it means. It’s not a secret that ASOIAF is literally filled to the brim with many references and allusions to Shakespearean and Greek tragedies. The prophecy that Maggy the Frog gives Cersei reminds me of a very specific Greek tragedy; that of Oedipus Rex, by Sophocles. The eponymous character is received a prophecy that states he will kill his father and marry his mother, and he desperately tries to search for his fathers murderer. When he learns the truth, his mother/wife hangs herself and Oedipus gouges his eyes out in grief. The prophecy the Oracle gives to Oedipus itself leads to the events that fulfill the prophecy; it’s all a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The prophecy Maggy hands Cersei is also a self-fulfilling prophecy, to an extent. And everything she believes to be a danger to her is legitimately a danger to her. Her children will die, a queen will oust her, Tyrion wants to kill her. Maggy’s prophecy is fundamentally straightforward, unlike the prophecies that Daenerys receives, which makes it unique. There isn’t much of a mystery here, because the mystery isn’t the point. The point is how the prophecy and it slowly coming true changes Cersei and effects her. So we might have to possibly contend with the idea that the valonqar is actually Tyrion. If we look again at Maggy’s wording, it’s very specific in calling the little brother the “valonqar”. It’s a High Valyrian word, so why was it used in the first place? If Maggy wanted to say little brother, she easily could have just said “your little brother is gonna kill you”.

There really isn’t a good answer for why Jaime would be called the valonqar, he isn’t associated with anything related to High Valyrian. Tyrion, however, is. The only time someone other than Cersei, who is unaware of the prophecy, uses valonqar, it is in relation to Tyrion;

"Your Grace," the Tyroshi murmured, bowing low, "I see you are as lovely as the tales. Even beyond the narrow sea we have heard of your great beauty, and the grief that tears your gentle heart. No man can restore your brave young son to you, but it is my hope I can at least offer you some balm for your pain." He laid his hand upon his chest. "I bring you justice. I bring you the head of your valonqar."

It seems this is a saying in the Free Cities (or perhaps just Tyrosh), many of which do speak their own form of Valyrian. And recently, Tyrion has been traveling through the Free Cities. A counter to this argument is that Tyrion has not encountered anyone use it thus far, but why would he? There’s no reason anyone would use that for him in a place he’s as unfamiliar with as people are with him. It could admittedly be a stretch, but I think it does add to the evidence that Tyrion is the valonqar.

Which brings us to the end of all this. Cersei’s arc explores women’s place in society, narcissism, entitlement, power, and fate. What does Cersei’s story ultimately mean in the long run? The prophecy is heavily tied to what I believe is the central theme, which is all about Cersei herself. It’s always been about her, what will happen to her, and getting what she deserves. Visiting Maggy was her trying to prove to herself (and her friends) that what she believed about herself, being queen, ruling, was the truth. Instead, she was told that all her children would die, someone else would take everything remaining from her, and the brother she so despises eventually takes her life.

Cersei is terrified of the prophecy coming true, and fights to prevent that, and to keep herself in power. But she is no more entitled to the Iron Throne or queenship than anyone else. Her own actions lead to her own downfall that was prophesied many years before, and no matter how proud of hard she fights, she cannot change that. She won’t ever live the life she wants, and she can’t avoid the inevitability that her time in the spotlight will eventually run out, and it will be because of herself.

Next up; something about mummers, suns, and dragons, or something... or just Dorne & Young Griff.

[skywardscroll]

divine intervention | venti

✧ word count: 2.5k

✧ summary: baring witness to world can become wearisome. venti, though you don’t really know him, wants to help.

✧ warnings: really angsty with some fluff thrown in! the reader has depression / there is self-deprecation. reader is also afab!

✧ a/n: this is so sweet >-< . i’m really proud of this one! also, writing klee is literally the funnest thing ever lol. <3 hope you guys enjoy!!

Teyvat, as you’d come to learn through your years, was a dangerous, merciless world. Every day, people lost their fathers, sisters, friends, and lovers. The world was full of greedy bandits and vicious monsters, and it only seemed to be getting worse as the days went by.

This last adventure out to Liyue had really taken the optimism out of you; Growing weary from traveling, you returned to your home in Mondstadt quite exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. Was there any other facet of you that could be exhausted? Because you were sure that it would also be stricken with strife.

You told the Adventurer’s Guild that you were temporarily retiring from your work to take a well-overdue vacation from fighting and the ever-arising political strain you witnessed every time you left the City of Freedom. You just wanted to enjoy your safe corner of the world, at least for the summer.

The (admittedly strange) way you decided to do this was by staying indoors with your books, sometimes going entire days without once stepping into the sunlight. It was a pleasant way to spend the time, but you knew it was unhealthy.

Your books, when the main characters shared similar habits to you, called this behavior ‘depression.’ Though, you willfully ignored this, pretending that this was normal of someone with a heavy heart (just a heavy heart. Not all the other symptoms that you were falsely denying you had, like an aversion to engagements with friends, or a neglect of hydration.)

It was one of the hottest days in July, you remembered, when you heard a knock on your door. You contemplated answering it, thinking that maybe the Adventurer’s Guild would want you back to work prematurely. This was quickly disproven, though, when a small voice called from outside the door:

“Miss Y/N? Oh, Miss Y/N~! Please come out!”

Klee’s sweet voice seemed to somehow wrap itself around your heart and pull you towards the door.

“Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, knowing that once you saw that endearing child’s round eyes, you would be forced to play outside with her for as long as she wanted you to. You loved Klee dearly, and would do anything for her, even if you didn’t necessarily wish to go along with it. But you really didn’t feel like leaving your house, knowing that the Freedom Festival was currently in full swing.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” You recognize a second voice to belong to Grandmaster Jean.

Inhaling deeply, you opened the door to see Klee’s face light up as she excitedly pulled on Jean’s hand.

“She opened the door! She did! I told you Y/N would open the door!”

“Y/N!” Jean said, obviously surprised by your appearance. “It’s so good to see you’re well.”

“It’s good to see you two, as well.” You said with full honesty. You hadn’t realized it until you saw them before you, but you had certainly missed seeing your friends.

“Y/N! I wanted to ask if you wanted to go to the Freedom festival with us! There’ll be food, and music, and I overheard Rosaria saying something to Kaeya about special drinks!”

“Oh… I don’t know…”

“Come on! It’ll be fun! They have this game, and it has a prize that looks like a biiiig dodoco! I want it but if you come you can have it!” Klee’s excitement makes a smile appear on your face.

“You should come, Y/N. It would be good for you, I think.”

You sighed a little, looking back at your book which sat with the pages down against the cushion of your reading chair, waiting to be returned to. But as if by design, the wind carried the smell of food into your door and your stomach rumbled. Besides, Klee’s eyes were bearing into your heart just as you predicted, and you could see Jean’s hand clasp onto Klee’s a little tighter in hopes that she wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

If you were to be frank, you had no idea what the difference between the Windblume Festival and the Freedom Festival was. To you, it just seemed like another concocted excuse to party. Which, in your youth, you never complained about, and you weren’t inclined to complain now, either, as Sara handed you a particularly delicious-looking chicken and mushroom skewer. You hadn’t eaten something like this in a month, and it was very welcome in your stomach.

“Over there! It’s Venti! Venti!” Klee went running ahead of you and Jean, who were idly speaking to one another as you finished off your food and threw the stick away.

“Klee! Don’t run off!” Jean called out, running after the young girl while you walked a bit behind, enjoying the scenery of Mondstadt decorated in flowers and it’s streets lined with vendors.

“Hi Klee!” You looked up and saw a man hug Klee tightly (a boy? He was quite short, but you were pretty sure he was an adult.) It was hard not to notice the golden lyre in his hand and how the strings seemed to be luminescent. You’d never seen anything like it before, and accidentally stared at it in clear awe.

“Do you play?” He asked, a smile that seemed to lift your heart was directed to you after the question left his lips.

“No… Not anymore. I tried to learn when I was a child but…”

“That’s alright. It takes a lot of practice, yeah?”

You let out a breathy laugh and nod, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jean scooped up Klee into her arms before she could run off again. “You two haven’t met before?”

“Sadly no.” Venti said, placing his hand over his heart. “I would’ve remembered such a beautiful face, surely.”

Bard’s and their sweet words. You thought to yourself. Out of kindness, you only laughed in response to his compliment.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Ahh! I’ve heard of you! The exceptional adventurer!”

Why does this guy say everything so enthusiastically? Is this what you used to sound like? His way of speaking, though you felt guilty for it because you knew he couldn’t help it, grated against your nerves. You weren’t in the right mindset for his optimism. Or, perhaps, it was that you were jealous that he still had a hold on his, and so easily too, while it had been so long since you were excited about anything.

When you didn’t say anything, there was a small look in Venti’s eyes that told you he could see right through you, or that he was at least aware that something was wrong with you.

“Well, I ought to be on my way back home.” You said, causing Klee to whine out.

“Y/N~! You can’t go yet! What about the giant dodoco?”

You frowned, feeling guilty for letting Klee down, but feeling too exhausted for any more socialization.

“At least stay for a song, Y/N?” Venti offered with a quieter tone of voice, pointing to a chair that was left unoccupied by the gathering crowd around him.

“Yeah! Just one song~?” Klee pleaded.

You bit the inside of your cheek before eventually nodding and sitting in the chair. Klee let out a cheer of celebration as Jean sat down beside you, letting Klee sit in her lap. You noticed how Jean had been particularly silent throughout this. Did she feel bad for you? Or did she, too, want you to stay for some reason?

“I’ll sing a very special song for a new friend!” Venti announced to the audience, to which you blushed a little at the attention and rolled your eyes. Though, once Venti’s fingers started gracing the strings of his harp, all feelings of discomfort and irritation floated away.

“Sit here closely, let me tell,

of the young maiden’s heart who one day swelled.

The once frozen walls, the once salty tears,

Now gone with a kiss that she wished had lasted years.

In the times of old, long before the gods were bold,

there was no remedy for a heart gone cold.

The young maiden wandered, hoping for peace

from the heartache and unrest the world did unleash.

Did she find it, you ask? Did she find it? I’ll tell.

She found it in freedom, from freedom it fell.

For Barbatos did bless her, from under the Windrise tree,

She only had to meet him in the morning at three.

The warmth she had searched for, that unlike she had ever known

was hers, finally, to own.”

The crowd clapped for Venti as he finished his short song, one that was unfamiliar to you and unsettled you to no end.

What was his motive?

You weren’t stupid. You’d read enough of your books in the last month and been on enough adventures with a multitude of twists and turns to know that he had just come up with that song for you. As beautiful as it was, you felt uncomfortable with the stranger being able to see through you so well.

Yet, when he flashed you a cheeky smile while he reveled in the applause, you felt that he had good intentions. In fact, you wondered if he could do any wrong. He just didn’t seem like the type to do anything evil… Ever.

“Did you like it, Klee?” Venti asked, bending down to talk to the girl who wriggled excitedly in Jean’s lap.

“Yes! It was sooooo pretty! I’ve never heard it before!” She gushed.

“A very lovely song, indeed, Venti.”

“Thanks Jean!” Venti flashed her a confident grin.

“Well, Y/N! Thanks for staying for the show!” He said, standing back up and turning to you. “I hope I can see you again soon!”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You replied with a half-hearted tone.

You were entirely conflicted. Your mind was telling you no; You shouldn’t go out there tonight. It was dangerous and you were significantly out of shape to be dealing with slimes and hilichurls. Besides, it was just a song… What if you were reading too much into it? And what if… You just wanted him to be singing about you and him?

Your heart wanted that to be true. It’d be like the books you’ve been reading, where the prince comes up with some elaborate way of asking the maiden to meet him in secret. You were, no matter how hardened you became, a hopeless romantic at heart. Something about Venti made your heart soar from the pits of depression you had fallen into. You… Trusted him.

You could do with a late-night walk, you supposed.

It took longer than usual because of the festivities, but the city eventually fell silent as everyone either rested in their beds or in a tavern. You found walking in the empty city strangely comforting. Rather than being shut away from the world out of fear of pestering others, you could now walk freely without a single care, if you so pleased.

You took your time walking out of the city, smiling at every stray cat and even stopping for a moment at the bridge to admire the water. You missed how, when you were a young girl, you used to look at the lake and dream about visiting all the other lakes in the world. You’d seen a lot of them, now, but this one still held a special place in your heart.

Windrise, though it had been years since you visited the Archon Statue, was as beautiful as ever. The tree looked even more alive in the moonlight, if it were possible.

You were raised to believe that you were under the protection of Barbatos, though you never would call yourself devout. That title belonged to the sisters of the church, who were truly faithful to Barbatos. But you would feel comfortable saying you were a believer. You liked that Barbatos was so just, and his famous story of his liberation of old Mondstadt was a tale you frankly would never tire of.

Regardless, as you sat in front of the statue, you saw no signs of the charming bard from before. You wondered if he memorized that tale of Barbatos; A part of you wanted to hear him tell it.

“I’m a fool, aren’t I?” You said, talking to the statue (not talking to yourself.) “A silly, odd, hermit of a fool. One who shuts themselves away and avoids all their problems. How cowardly can I be?”

A peculiar phenomenon began: The words started pouring out like an uncontrollable waterfall. Once the self-deprecation started, it didn’t seem to want to end.

“My family was so proud to hear I was a part of the guild. They said that you – that Barbatos – had blessed me with the life of an adventurer – a life of freedom. Am I selfish to despise it? I don’t feel free. I feel heavy with all the troubles of the world. Outside Mondstadt it’s… Well, you’re a god, you know how it is.”

You hadn’t spoken much to anyone in over a month. You didn’t even know if anyone was listening. Was he listening? Did he see the tears starting to run down your face and did he hear the cracking in your voice?

“I feel like a joke. A witness to trouble without the power to make things right. It’s so… Frustrating. I hate myself because I hate the world. I’m so useless… So useless.”

And you cried, your head leant against the statue of Barbatos. The months of pain finally bubbled over and bared itself for the world and the gods to see. You were ashamed, and angry at yourself, but you let yourself cry. You cried up to the heavens, to Celestia. Was he watching? Listening?

“Y/N?” A voice softly spoke your name, but your sobs turned into wails immediately following and you couldn’t make yourself stop even if you wanted to.  You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and you hugged Venti back, breathing in his scent of Cecilia. He was so warm compared to the cool summer breeze that blew through the leaves above.

“I’m sorry.” You cried against his shirt; the words muffled but still understandable. There were so many apologies you were making with the single phrase: Sorry for crying, sorry for being rude. Sorry for shutting everyone who cares about me out. I’m sorry for being ungrateful. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You don’t have to hide your tears from me, okay?” His voice was so soft and gentle as he pulled your head away from his chest and wiped away your ever-flowing tears from your cheeks.

This went on for a while, him running his thumbs over your cheeks every few minutes and catching the tears. You felt so awful that he was witnessing you like this, he barely knew you. But something in you was saying that this was right. Trust him, this is where you’re meant to be.

You calmed down enough about an hour later that he felt he could speak.

“Everything will be alright, Y/N.”

You let out a jagged exhale. At this point, your jaw was numb, and you were developing a headache. Still, being in Venti’s arms brought you comfort unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was… Divine.

“Do you think he heard me? That he’s watching over me?”

Venti gave you the most assured, comforting smile you think is humanly possible. Brushing your hair from your face, he replied.

“I’ve never been so certain of anything.”

[pillow-anime-talk]

mistletoe. {pt.2}

synopsis: Killing cursed spirits with Satoru, winter prom with Metori and sincere conversation with Juuzou.

# tags: scenarios; christmas!au; current relationships & crush culture; romance; fluff; a bit of angst; sfw

includes: female reader ft. satoru gojou {jjk} + metori saiko {saiki k. no psi nan} + juuzou suzuya {tokyo ghoul}

part one {click}

— SATORU

“... Y/N-chan, on the left!”

“... Hey, hey! Look up, sweetheart!”

“... Oi! Behind you!”

“... Behind you too! Kick their asses, Satoru~!”

“... YEAH! Here’s my super strong girl!”

You two have been in the forest; for over twenty minutes you dealing with killing smaller or larger curses that frightened mushroom pickers or wild animals. You had a lot of fun doing it, all the time competing to see who killed more evil creatures. Of course, your boyfriend was winning so far, by three, but how could you know that some of them would come out of the forest litter, literally letting the white-haired man kill them all in a few seconds? Well, but at least you killed about twelve curses yourself, and that was a really nice result.

On the one hand, you enjoyed spending time with Gojou like that, because it was very rare for the two of you to be together on a mission, but on the other hand... It was the time of Christmas that you wanted to spend in your own home, surrounded by delicious food and desserts, hot wine or beer, loved ones, including your boyfriend’s cute students or your mutual friends. From a long time, that is, from the moment you became a sorcerer, you didn’t spend any holidays, birthdays or anniversaries as you would like. There was simply no time and energy for it because every day, apart from some Sundays, you worked to make life better for vulnerable people. It wasn’t a bad job, but sometimes... when you looking at ‘normal’ couples you envied their ignorance to the fact that some evil had appeared around them. You envied them that they could spend their free time together doing stupid things or relaxing in front of the TV.

So you sighed softly, raising the hand in which you held the small pocket knife. Small as your anti-curse tool was, it was also extremely effective and dangerous. Therefore, you cut the throat of one of the evil souls without any problems, thus defeating the last enemy.

“Ahhhh. Finally...! You’re not hurt, baby?” The young man said in a cheerful voice, and you shook your head in disapproval. Second later, you cleaned the little knife and then, hid it in one of the pockets of your black pants. “Would you like to get some hot chocolate and cake?”

“Huh? Have we finished all our work for today?” You asked in surprise, and the man just bit his lip with joy, putting his finger to his mouth after a while.

“Yes, although you forgot one thing, love.” You raised an eyebrow at his amused words. However, Satoru quickly got rid of your unawareness as soon as he raised his right hand and pointed at something above with his index finger. For a moment you were sure that he meant a curse that hadn’t been killed before, but as it turned out, it was mistletoe growing on one of the tall trees; you were surprised that during the fight he was able to additionally notice a small, green plant. Anyway, you just chuckled lightly as you stood on your tiptoes and tugged at the twenty-eight-year-old by his jacket.

You were happy that at least this one, very sweet Christmas moment could happen to you during the winter season. Thanks to this, these holidays weren’t so bad and devoid of spirit.

— METORI

Every year there was a winter prom at your school; it was the third time for you, while for Saiko, who only joined your class this year, it was something new. Of course, he was skeptical about it from the start and generally discouraged by the very idea of ​​spending time with all PK Academy students, classmates and teachers. That’s why he immediately told you that if you want to go to the prom, he can arrange whatever prom you want; he literally said if you wanted Beyoncé he could call her.

But you just smiled warmly and said that school party is enough for you and you really like it. So he couldn’t refuse you... after all, the gray-haired young boy had a huge, indescribable weakness for you. Plus, even though you’ve been dating for a few weeks, Metori still couldn’t understand how... gentle and simple you were. You weren’t interested in luxury, his money, where his father worked. Instead, you asked every day if he had breakfast, if he would like to go for a walk with you, if he would like to come to you for dinner because your mother cooked a delicious Mexican dish. It was something new and nice for a teenager who had grown up in prosperity and splendor throughout his life. It didn’t bother him, but the prom... it was quite strange and mysterious. But he agreed, so he couldn’t take his words back because he didn’t want you to get sad or disappointed.

Thus, he bought a new, well-fitting and expensive suit – one that would fit perfectly with your delicate dress, which at the same time matches to the color of your shiny eyes. He also paid for new shoes, a watch, and a hairdresser visit, but even that couldn’t compare to your soft, natural blushes and the sweet facial expression you gave him when he came to your house with his butler.

“... You’re stressed?” You asked quietly as you sat in the car and he squeezed your little hand between his much larger ones.

“I’ve just never been at a prom... public... especially at school.” He muttered, and though he turned his head, you could see a hint of blush on his nose and both cheeks. So you chuckled lightly as you cuddled up against his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”

The school hasn’t changed much; only a few holiday decorations have been added here and there. However, the gymnasium took your breath away because it was magically decorated. But before you had time to take your seats on the other side of the door, your physical education teacher stopped the two of you.

“Couples enter after payment.” Mr. Matsuzaki said, and the Santa Claus hat on his head added to the charm of his muscular figure.

Of course, Saiko was already taking out his wallet, but you quickly stopped it, pointing in a specific direction. It was, obviously, the smol mistletoe, which was the aforementioned entry ticket for couples who decided to show up at the ball together. So you smiled slightly at your boyfriend and he looked at you confused.

“What is it?”

“O-Oh, you never kissed under the mistletoe?”

“Kissing under it has any meaning?” He asked, still surprised, and you just moved closer to his face, stealing a short, really sweet kiss.

“It’s a tradition, love. You have to kiss under every mistletoe if you notice one.” You said happily and then thanked the teacher for going inside the gym.

Of course, Metori in his head was already calculating how many tons of mistletoe he should buy so that you could continue kissing him as sweetly as you just did.

— JUUZOU

You put two cups of hot, beautifully fragrant chocolate on the table; one was with two white marshmallows and the other with six. Of course, it was easy to guess which portion was for Juuzou and which was for you. Nevertheless, you smiled gently and then sat down next to the white-haired boy, staring at him out of the corner of your eye.

“... About what did you dream, Juuzou-kun?” You asked softly, taking the purple cup between both hands. The warm ceramics pleasantly burned your all fingers, which made you breathe blissfully. “Of course, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to tell me. We can just sit in silence and drink our sweet cocoa.” You added after a brief second so as not to put unnecessary pressure or general stress on the nineteen-year-old.

“It’s no big deal. I dreamed about my mom.” He admitted hesitantly, also taking his dark-green mug. “When I woke up and looked at the calendar I realized we had Christmas time and... Well, my mom never gave me any, not even a small gift, nor did I ever spend that time like other children my age. It hit me a bit. Not that I regret it, but... what Christmas really is?” His short speech made you look at him with a very sad expression on your face and after a quick while you just put your warm chocolate on the table, getting up from your wooden chair and walking to a random cupboard in your smol kitchen.

This year you didn’t have time (because of work) and no idea (because of fatigue) for presents for loved ones, and even more so for the unexpected guest – Suzuya, who loved to sleep in your house because, as he once said, ‘He felt at your place very safe’, but you managed to come up with a little surprise fastly; you wrapped a red ribbon that was in the cupboard with needles and scissors around an unopened box of nut cookies. You also managed to find a piece of paper and a black pen, so you wrote a concise but sincere wishes to the inspector, which ended with a tiny heart and a star. Out of the corner of your eye, you also noticed the mistletoe lying next to the clock, which was a little joke your dear friend had made to you two days ago. So you took everything and went back to the quietly sitting Juuzou, smiling slightly at him, even a bit silly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about gifts before, but... I hope that’s enough. After today’s work, we can go to the gallery or the park to see the decorated Christmas trees, you will surely like them. Happy Holidays, Juuzou. I hope next year will be a good one for you.” You said shyly as you handed him ribbon-decorated cookies. At the sight of them, the boy only blushed, then looked at your other hand, which was still gripping a little twig. “Ohh... it’s... such a small tradition where you get a kiss under the mistletoe.” You picked up the plant and then placed it over the white-haired young man’s head, bending down after a while and giving him a short peck on the left, smooth cheek. “Merry Christmas once again.”

“Merry Christmas to you too and... thank you for that.”

You only smirked, reaching for the mug of already cool drink. However, you weren’t disappointed in drinking the cold cocoa, because the honest, slightly timid smile of the boy you liked from the beginning of your work at CCG warmed your whole body better than any other hot chocolate, tea or coffee.

[haechansfbuddy]

Church

Na Jaemin x female reader

Warnings: dom!Jaemin, Sub!reader, Overstim, Degradation, Unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it kids), Oral (male and female receiving.), Edging.

Based on: Church by Chase Atlantic

You were sleeping at your boyfriend Jaemins house, as his parents were on a business trip, and yours has kicked you of the house long ago.

As you woke up, rubbing the sleepiness off of your tired eyes, you noticed Jaemin, who you had fallen asleep cuddling, had already woken up. Knowing him, he was probably at the gym, so you decided to throw one of his t-shirts on and make him food for when he gets back. As you walk past his mirror, you get a glimpse of how baggy Jaemins shirt is on you, and you picture him wearing it, it hugs his muscles tightly, which is very pleasing to the eye.

You decide to make Jaemin a full English breakfast, since it's your favourite thing about going to see your English relatives. You put full effort into it, you make him fried tomatoes and all. Sadly, there was no leftovers to make bubble and squeak with. Most people think bubble and squeak is old people food, but you happened to quite enjoy it.

As you're plating up the hearty meal, you hear keys in the door, you quickly put his plate on the table with his drink, and run to hug him as he comes in. When he sees you, he smiled brightly, and you enjoy the warmth of his body against yours, although he is a bit sweaty. "Miss me that much? I only went to the gym" he giggles at you. You look up at him pouting, tracing circles round the collar of his t-shirt "I love you." You just stare into his pretty brown eyes for a second, getting lost before saying "I made you breakfast!" He raised his eyebrow at you, confused at why you sounded so excited. He opened his mouth to say something, before you playfully kissed him to shut him up. You covered his eyes quickly and pulled him into the kitchen and saying "tada!" as you let him see again "it's a full English breakfast, even got hashbrowns" you smiled at him again.

He eyes you before saying "for a minute I thought you were gonna let me eat you out" "shower first mister, plus that's desert, you can only have it if you eat your mushrooms like a good boy" He doesn't like your attitude, so he says in a sarcastic tone "yes mummy." You curse under your breath as you watch him roll his eyes. That is, until he trys his English breakfast, and smiles. "You like it?" you say happily. " Delicious, is this why you love visiting your English relatives? " he says. "Yeah" you nod enthusiastically, "plus, if you think this is good, you should try a Gregg's pizza or sausage roll, or any type of British sweets. Also, my English relatives like me more than my parents do" your tone sounds sadder when you say the last part, missing your dad's embrace, and how he always making you feel better when you cried.

Jaemin had finished his breakfast, and he put his plate on the kitchen side by the dishwasher, he caresses your hair and looks lovingly into your eyes. You kiss him passionately, it starts out loving and soft, but it gets rough and lustful. Jaemin puts his hands up your [his] tshirt to grab your breasts, and as his hand travels up, he notices something. "You're wearing nothing but my tshirt" he smirks. He begins to knead your left breast making you gasp, as his free hand travels towards your pussy. He swiped his finger over your wet pussy lips, and pulled away from the kiss, making you whine. "Aww, my needy baby is already this wet for me," he mockingly pouts at you, head going down to face your heat, and you stop him. "I said not until you shower, you have to be a good boy to get your desert" you start fiddling with his hair, waiting for his reaction. He looks up at you. "Little brat" he spat "You're gonna regret this baby" You somehow managed to get the courage to push him away, you knew it would get you a punishment, but maybe that's what you wanted. He looked at you, a mix of anger and lust in his eyes "my little whore needs to stop leading me on, you knew forgetting your underwear would get you sex, you wanted it didn't you? Such a slut" he smirked, thinking this would break you. He was wrong. You decided to piss him off further, you looked at him and said "I'll keep leading you on, if you keep leading me into your room" it was your turn to smirk. However, to your surprise, Jaemin didn't angrily fuck you there and then, he threw you over his shoulder and started upstairs. "Where are you taking me" you enquire, knowing you've put him off his room. "Back to church" he replies. You had know idea what that meant, but you were thrown into the counter top in the bathroom soon enough. He pulled off all of his clothes hastily, and you pulled his tshirt off your body, not wanting anything rougher than what you're already about to receive. You led back on the counter after throwing no shirt across the room. He licked a stripe of your pussy, making you somehow wetter than you already were. You moaned lightly at the pleasure he was giving you, as he sucked and licked your clit. As he started sucking harsher, the knot in your stomach began to grow, you felt your legs shake as he sucks harsher, and just as you're about to cum, he stops. You whine loudly and he giggles to himself. You glare at him, but he takes no notice. "On your knees babygirl" he says in a slightly harsh tone. You drop to your knees, and start giving his tip kitten licks. "The more you tease, the more slaps you get later."

You decide this is gonna be fun, and so, you keep teasing. "One, two" he counts as you tease him for longer. Eventually he gets to ten, and that's when you take him all in, gagging slightly. "Good girl" he says, slightly moaning. He tried to hold his moans back, knowing that it's what you wanted to hear. You quickly picked up on this, watching him bite down on his lips. So you stop sucking and take him out with a loud pop. "What was that for" he says, almost whiny. You, quite enjoying the affect you have on him, lock eyes with him and pout "I like hearing your moans" "20 slaps it is" he replies. You fully take him back in, and as you start sucking, he decided to face fuck you, which makes you gag. He moans in his sexy deep voice. Occasionally letting out low groans, which were like music to your ears. He keeps face fucking you, you letting him take over. You let out a moan at the feeling of his cock in your mouth, which makes him twitch in your mouth. He shoots white string of cum down your throat, moaning loudly as he does so. When he's emptied his load, you make eye contact with him and swallow it. Standing up slowly, maintaining eye contact. "My little sluts feeling brave today, isn't she?" You ignore him "Don't ignore me baby" he says mockingly "I'll have you speaking in tongues" You lie over his lap, ass facing him, before you get into more trouble. "Count for me princess" He gives you a hard spank "one" you moan slightly, your clit pressing against his knee every time his hand hits your ass. "Ten" by now it's started to sting, but the pressure on your clit was worth it. Eventually, you make it to 20, and you turn your head to look at Jaemin. "Good girl" he says "I think you can have your reward now" You knew that what that actually meant was It's technically a punishment but I'll let you cum this time cos you took me so well. But you had no complaints.

You lay back down on the counter, as Jaemin gets on top and pounds into you without a warning, causing you to let out a loud moan. He thrusts faster and faster, managing to get deeper every time. You moan loudly and your breath but he's in your throat when he finds your g-spot. He looks pleased with himself, smirking and pounding harder. You feel your orgasm coming closer. You arch your back and your hips buck as the knot in your stomach gets tighter. Jaemin thrusts harder, repeatedly hitting you g-spot. You lose it, you're about to shut your eyes, but he makes you look at him while you cum. Moaning loudly and your legs shaking uncontrollably, you cum all over his cock and he cums inside you. You're both finished, and he continues to fuck you. He was overstimulating you, and it hurt. "Jaemin" you breath out, tears stinging at your eyes. "We ain't done yet" he says.

Requests

[sombreboy]

Quality time⇢kth x jjk

⇢18+ ⇢pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ⇢genre: Smut, fluff, mxm, married couple ⇢word count: 3.7k ⇢warnings: Profanity, fluff, smut, daddy kink, sub!jjk, dom!kth, dirtytalk, masturbation, anal, please its fiction use lube and be safe, creampie in da ass

A/N: Serves as a oneshot within the Love Maze series AU, however can also be read on it’s own. Co-written with my lovely @velvetwicebang​​ <3 Banner made by lovely @chimoona​ <3 Thank you xoxo

Jungkook & Taehyung absolutely loved and adored being fathers to little Taeyeon. There's no amount of riches in the entire universe that'd make them even consider trading their lives away. But... they'd be lying if they said they didn't need a break.

Ever since their little girl joined their family, both men have been busier than ever. With Jungkook being a very high demand tattoo artist, he spends the majority of his day putting art on people's skin. Sometimes he'd be able to bring the small one to work with him, but only when all he had to do was sketch-- and even then he'd get less than the ideal amount of work done. But he refused to let Taehyung take all the responsibility by himself. Luckily, Tae's job was not nearly as demanding. He could work on edits of his photos from his very couch with a baby in his lap without issues. Except for when the child was insatiable and wanted her other daddy. Adding to their exhaustion, when they both were actually home, all their energy went to keep Taeyeon happy, fed and clean. They love her so much, but... They've barely been able to show this love to one another.

With all this in mind, Jungkook had decided to plan a surprise for the night dedicated to his husband. From the amount of times he's been babysitting Joon and Jisoo's kids, they finally helped convince Kook to let them take Taeyeon for one night to let them breathe. Jungkook was very hesitant until he finally gave in; only with Taehyung in mind. He needed it.

Jungkook knew Tae would be waiting at home, as Koo had brought their baby with him to work to let the elder get some peaceful work done. After leaving his child at Joon's, he drove home feeling excited. On the way, he picked up some pizza. A simple luxury they've also rarely indulged in lately. Tonight was going to be simple, yet not. Jungkook felt his mouth salivate as he pulled up in the driveway, and it was not because of the pizza.

The exact moment Taehyung heard the familiar squeak of the doorknob, he dismissed his computer to the empty side of the couch. The elder was expecting to be greeted by Jungkook and Taeyeon— like always— but instead, he was met with a box of pizza in place of their baby.

“Kook, where’s Yeonie?” The little girl has been with them for months, it felt out of place not seeing her cute face after a long day of work, “Is she okay? Did something happen to her?” Tae’d been so busy thinking of the worst, that the rare box of pizza in Jungkook’s hold was momentarily forgotten. It was only when his husband had explained to him about the night’s plans that Taehyung visibly relaxed.

“Shit.. I’m so stressed out these days.” The elder sighed, finally looking into Kook’s soft eyes once he’d gotten a hold of himself, “You did this for us?” He looped his arms around Jungkook’s neck, “Baby, thank you. That’s so thoughtful of you..” Taehyung took the box of greasy pizza from his husband’s hand, careless as he sat it down on the coffee table. He plopped down onto the couch, forgetting about his ‘parent image’ for the moment. Tae brought a slice of pizza to his mouth, outwardly moaning at the forgotten flavor. He’s missed this, that’s for sure. “I missed pizza, thank you.” He was clueless as to what Jungkook’s motive was, “Want to watch TV? We still need to catch up on that show.”

"Sure, let's." Jungkook grabbed the remote as he plopped down next to Taehyung, turning the tv on to resume where they had previously attempted to finish half way through a show on Netflix. Kook reached for a greasy piece of the blissful garbage food of his own and quickly had it devoured, all while glancing over at his husband more than he was focusing on the movie. Without their child, it seemed like Taehyung really savored the moment to just be. It was like pieces of the old Taehyung seeped through the cracks of his father persona. Jungkook didn't really need nor want any more pizza, letting Tae eat most of it. The youngers appetite was for something else entirely.

As time passed, Kook allowed Taehyung to enjoy the relaxation of digesting and watching his show, but when deemed enough, Jungkook's patience ran low. Now that the elder got some time to breathe, it was Jungkook's turn to get what he's been yearning for.

"Daddy," Kook murmured coyly, knowing this specific word stirred something in his husband. He reached to caress Tae's cheek with his tattooed knuckles, a gentle way of asking the elder to look at him, "I have something else for you."

The elder found it exceptionally hard to digest his bite of pizza, so he sat the half-eaten piece down, now more intrigued by his husband’s daring words. It’s been so long; his needy cock was extra responsive compared to a few years back. It was obvious he’d been starved of sexual intimacy, every graze of Jungkook’s knuckles drove him mad with lust.

His inviting words were simply the strawberry on top. It was the extra boost the elder needed to finally attend to his own needs. And by the looks of it, his husband desperately needed it too. It was about time they looked after one another.. “Oh yeah?” Taehyung’s tongue swiped over his lips, “What is it?” Excitement was an understatement, and the growing bulge poking at his sweatpants proved that.

Jungkook had Taehyung exactly where he wanted him, aching with anticipation and excitement. It was endearing how easily affected the elder was-- but he couldn't blame him. Kook was just as needy after this long without any intimacy aside from kissing. ''You've been a bit tense lately,'' Kook's words were innocent as he leaned in to place one last sweet kiss on his lips. Now, he wanted anything but sweet, ''Let me take care of you.'' He murmured as his kisses traveled down Taehyung's sharp jaw, groaning into his tanned skin as one hand eagerly tugged at the button of his husband's pants to undo them and slide his long fingers underneath the waistband, ''Missed your big cock,'' Jungkook's words grew filthier, his hot breath moving to caress Taehyung's ear whilst his hand firmly gripped the hardening length, ''Did it miss me?''

Taehyung didn’t know when, but he threw his head back in a moan; the mere touch making him breathless. He’s been deprived of any kind of attention, and with Jungkook’s sneaky hand tightly holding on to his length, Tae felt like he could cum right then and there. The elder held himself back, though. Something told him they wouldn’t have time to themselves often, he wanted to make the moment last. “It missed you so much.. fuck. Wanna be inside my gorgeous husband..” The last part came out breathy, still heavily affected by the younger’s sudden need to take care of him. Hell, Taehyung wasn’t complaining in the slightest, “Bet it’s so tight too after all this time. Lemme get a feel, babe..”

"Anything you wish for," Jungkook cooed as he tugged the elders pants down to pull out his heavy length, grasping Taehyungs hand to place it on his own girth, "Touch yourself slowly." He ordered as he stood up to undo his own pants and pull them down with his underwear in one go, shamelessly exposing his already turgid cock. He pulled his shirt off too, making sure his husband could see everything, "You love seeing me like this?" Kook smile playfully as he grabbed his own length, making a show out of the way he rubbed circles on the wet mushroom head with his thumb. "Wanna help stretch me out with your cock, baby?"

“Mhm..” A strong gulp rippled in Taehyung’s throat, feeding off of his husband’s undivided attention as he stroked himself— slowly, like Jungkook had ordered. He didn’t want to upset the younger; Taehyung wanted to please, “Fuck, I wanna stretch you out like old times, fill you up with my cum..” An excited groan excited past Taehyung’s slightly parted lips. He couldn’t help it; he pumped himself faster. His brows knitted closer together, the wet sounds of his throbbing dick now more alive. “Baby sit on my cock, please.. wanna be in you again.” Taehyung didn’t care about how pathetic he sounded, if it’d get his point across, then he was pleased.

''Ah, how I've dreamed of hearing you say that.'' Jungkook whined as he firmly squeezed his cock, earning an aching throb from it. He felt his ass clench around nothing just from the mere thought of being stuffed full; the memory far from faded. He would never forget how good Taehyung feels, and he couldn't wait to refresh his memory further. Kook let himself go, his rock solid length wet and needy as he leaves it untouched and bobbing while straddling his husband. using his strong hands, he quickly makes work of taking Taehyung's shirt off to make it more fair in terms of nudity, ''Ah, my gorgeous husband... my sexy daddy.'' Jungkook purrs when he feels Tae's cock twitch against the skin of his ass, allowing his large tattooed palms to smooth over the elders soft stomach; less firm these days, a little plushier-- but no matter, it only made him sexier, and a perfect cuddle pillow. Kook's hands continued to travel upwards over Tae's still firm chest as he leaned forward to kiss him deeply, tongue finding it's way to slip into the elders mouth.

Taehyung’s wandering eyes throughout his husband’s face ceased their wandering, now fluttered shut whilst he drowned himself in the heated kiss; not failing to take notice of the bundle of unspoken emotions behind every brush of their tongues. His hands settled on Jungkook’s hips. They itched to pull him down— to give him a taste so he’d return the favor, but instead his warm palms ran along the curve of the younger’s ass, groping the rounded, firm skin. Tae pulled away from the kiss, rosy lips now a small trace of what’s to come, “Sit on daddy’s lap, baby boy. He also wants to take care of you..”

Taehyung roughly parted his husband’s flushed cheeks, flashing Jungkook’s pathetic little hole; just begging to be filled to the absolute brim.

Jungkook's eyes darkened with his growing need to feel Tae's cock stuff him full to the brim, a gasp pushed through his lips when he felt the elders rough, warm hands spread him open, his little hole clenching and unclenching around nothing--but not for long, ''Please, take care of me well..'' Jungkook's words were breathy, he'd spit in his hand before reaching back to wet Taehyung's cock, aligning the thick head with his needy entrance before slowly pushing himself down, far too eager to care about proper preparation-- it was worth it any future discomfort. A drawn out, breathy moan rumbled in Kook's throat at the stretch, eyes never wavering from his husband's expressions, observing and visually devouring every sign of pleasure in his face, ''I'm so tight for you, fuck...''

“O-oh..” Taehyung’s brows knitted closer together, and his eyes vaguely dimmed once Jungkook’s chamber of warmth fully settled in. His cock throbbed inside of his husband, trying to get accustomed to the tightness he once knew so well, but now lacked. “God, you’re so gorgeous..” Taehyung squeezed the younger’s ass, controlling the latter’s movements as he slowly rocked Jungkook’s hips into his own, holding eye contact throughout it all, “My fuckin’ husband, shit, I missed this.” He hissed out loud, drawn to every twist and tug of Jungkook’s face.

"We're g-gonna have to do this more often..." Jungkook's voice broke into a whine when he sunk deeper down on Tae's length, slowly but surely until he's fully stuffed, halting his movements to adjust to the stretch. He took a deep breath to relax his muscles, placing his hands on Taehyungs chest for leverage, "Can't go this long without feeling you again. It's too fucking good.." Kook's eyebrows furrow as they're drawn together, his expression a mix of the pleasure and faint pain. He gently started to grind his hips on his husband, moaning when he feels the bulbous tip brushing against his prostate, his own cock dribbling with beads of precum, "I missed this so much, god.. it feels amazing."

The elder peeked one eye open, his sealed lips twitching as if he was trying to conceal a smile, “Of course it feels amazing, it’s my cock.” A hint of the old Kim Taehyung peered through the cracks, and he had to admit.. it felt fuckin’ great to have zero responsibilities even if it was just for the time being. With his beautiful husband on his dick, Tae was reminded of their earlier; less demanding years. Suddenly, the ‘perfect father’ façade he’d built up in front of everyone else came plummeting down; he felt the most comfortable when faced by Jungkook.

“You good? I know it’s big.” A small smirk quickly shifted into an ‘o’ the moment his husband willingly rocked his hips faster against him, deteriorating Tae’s composure little by little, “Ah shit.. n-not too fast, don’t wanna cum in you yet..”

"I'm great." Jungkook's eyelids fluttered shut in bliss every time his small movements had Tae's cock prodding just the right spot, keeping his hips slow, simply rocking back and forth to still get himself used to the stretch his husbands blessed girth provided. Kook stopped for a moment, letting Taehyung truly feel the warmth embracing him tightly. His eyes opened once more before he leaned forward to cup his husbands face in his hands, stroking his thumbs on the soft skin of his cheeks, "I love you... please fuck me now." Jungkook begged, his doe eyes sparkling with need, "please, baby." Jungkook didn’t have to strain his voice when begging, or get down on his knees— Taehyung was already sold a while ago. He sensually traced the sharp outlines of his husband’s tattoos with his fingertips. And as if the responsive shivers from Jungkook’s painted canvas transmitted from the younger’s biceps to the rest of Taehyung’s body, the elder bit back an eager moan at the familiar sensation. “I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard for all the other times I couldn’t..” With a feather-like touch, Tae’s bottom lip grazed upwards against the slope of the younger’s neck, gently sucking onto the latter’s unsteady Adam’s apple, “You’re gonna take all of it like a good boy, aren’t you?” His words came out as a low growl, and Taehyung’s hips teasingly grinded into Jungkook’s ass. “You’re gonna make daddy feel so fuckin’ good, there’s no doubt in my mind about it.” The elder pulled back from the other’s flushed skin, seemingly proud with his creation, “gorgeous.” The sweet moment didn’t last long, as Tae grew even needier from the way Kook’s walls closed in on him. He quickly flipped Jungkook over so his back laid on the couch, staring him down like a predator would his prey. Everything about the younger was so... addicting. Even after many years, Taehyung found himself throbbing from his husband’s expressions as he slowly thrusted into him, bending Jungkook’s legs down to his chest for better access, “F-fuck..” Tae bit down on his lip, the small scar on his forehead visible whenever he ran his fingers through his hair, wanting to see the younger clearly. “Want me to go faster?” He raised his brows, “beg then. I love it when you beg for me..”

''Yes,'' Jungkook's dark curls fell off his face to expose his glistening forehead, eyes blown out in the pure admiration and lust that swirled in his dark pools of brown, ''Please go faster, I need it so fucking bad... please." Kook cried out, his hands settling on Taehyung's lower arms in a tight grip to stay grounded, his ass clenching down harshly on his husband's thick girth. The initial pain from the stretch faded with every thrust, instead replaced with nothing but pleasure and feeling so full it makes his heart want to burst out if his rib cage, ''It feels so good, I want more, harder... Don't be gentle.'' His last words came out like a gasp when he felt his cock throb at a particularly angled thrust, pressing his head back against the couch with gritted teeth.

‘Harder’, ‘Faster’, ‘More’... Jungkook’s breathy moans in the shapes of incoherent phrases urged Taehyung to do just that. The man slammed into him— harder. “Wasn’t planning on being gentle, sweetheart,” The elder groaned at his increase of pace, faster like his husband wanted. Like how he wanted; Tae was only playing the superior part, he would’ve drilled into Jungkook minutes prior. But then again, it wouldn’t of been anywhere near as fun.. or thrilling. Taehyung fancied this best, he enjoyed hearing the younger plead for his utmost attention.

“T-tight... so tight.” More. Taehyung's hair dangled over his narrowed eyes, showing Kook no mercy whilst their sweaty skin continuously slapped against one another, the striking sound echoing throughout the empty house, “Tell daddy how you feel, baby..” The muscles in Taehyung’s chest clenched closer together, further showcasing the small tattoo layering his heart; one Jungkook had formerly etched onto his honey skin. Three daffodils; a smaller one in the middle.

"Feel so full, it's so good.." Jungkook's throaty words come out shaky every time Taehyung slams into him, causing his body to jolt upwards. With one hand, he reaches to smooth his palm over the pretty, small tattoo on Tae's chest, his heart swelling with the love he feels for his husband. After everything they've been through, ups and downs-- many downs, here they were still as head over heels for each other as they've always been; now with a family. Another thrust brought Kook back to the present, his blunt nails digging into Tae's arms as a loud cry in pleasure was forced out of the younger. Jungkook's hands travelled to run through his husbands hair, moving the sticky fringe away from his face, "you make me feel so good, so loved. I love your cock." Kook was greedy, and a glutton for being manhandled, and he wanted Tae to really fuck him dumb, like only he could. Both men have pent up stress, and what better way than to fuck it out. “I-I love you— fuck..” Taehyung’s brows furrowed in concentration, jaw slack as he moved his hands to each side of Jungkook’s head, still tightly engulfed by his husband’s radiating warmth. The elder hazily gazed down at Kook, putting a momentary pause to his hips’ rhythm before leaning down to press a sweet kiss onto his forehead, nose, cheek, chin— and lastly, lips. Taehyung knew he was supposed to be fucking him dumb, but he couldn’t help it. They rarely spent time alone, Tae felt guilty for not expressing his love more often.. Shit, he was being annoying. The movement of their lips turned less sweet, moving eagerly as it muffled their reactive moans when Taehyung began putting his hips to work once again, hitting Jungkook’s deepest places and rubbing against his prostate. Tae pulled out halfway only to ram into the younger, his movements slick from the sweat found all over their bodies. A low grunt followed after every sharp thrust; Taehyung felt like he’d lose his mind. He was deprived of sex, and now that he got it, he was far more sensitive. “‘M gonna cum soon baby boy, y-you close?”

Jungkook's haste nodding followed by short, clear chants of the word 'yes' served as his only reply as he was unable to form any coherent sentence. He was too far gone, too drunk on the pleasure he was experiencing with every loud snap of his husbands hips. The younger reached between their bodies with one hand to squeeze his aching length, too weak to ignore the almost painful need throbbing between his legs. He began to stroke himself in tandem with Taehyung's thrusts, doubling the speed to where his upcoming orgasm was building up, "I will--- slow down, just a bit..." Jungkook suddenly asks for the opposite, his free hand settled to cup Tae's cheek, the other still working his own cock, causing his insides to clench down harder on the elder, "I'm gonna cum so much, fuck... please fill me up."

Jungkook's warning only lasted for a mere minute before his whines grew higher, jerking himself off at a torturous pace until he finally reached his peak. A raspy moan-- almost a scream erupted from his throat at the intensity of it, letting go of his cock to let it pathetically gush hot ropes of his cum between their bodies, his insides spasming and gripping Taehyung like a vice grip, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Taehyung couldn’t handle his husband squeezing down on him with such force. It was as if Jungkook’s fleshy walls were pleading to be filled up with his cum, as if they’d missed squeezing every last drop out of his pulsating cock. Despite Jungkook reaching his climax, the elder still chased after his own. He was close, so close.. His hips snapped sloppily into Kook, losing the drive they once had. With every harsh slap of his balls against the younger’s ass, Taehyung felt himself gradually crumble down as he dug deeper into Jungkook’s clenched insides. “Gonna cum—“ Spurts of white shot into Kook, catching them both off guard, “shiiit, fuck yeah..” Taehyung threw his head back with a strained shout, tensing up as he disposed of his warm load into his husband. He pulled out to watch it dribble down out of his hole, only to push himself back in; not quite finished, “Fuuuck, it feels so good.. you feel so good..”

Once he was sure every last drop was snug deep inside of Jungkook, Tae withdrew for good. His slick tip came out with a ‘pop’, and a low whine slipped past his lips at the cool air that clashed against his wet length.

“That was amazing, I really needed that.” Taehyung leaned down to press a kiss onto Jungkook’s lips, unbothered by the pool of cum on the younger’s stomach, “I love you, you know that?”

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? II // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: After playing The Orpheum things were looking up, Sunset Curve bought the house that owned the studio the band used. Alex lived in a safe environment will only love, Reggie didn’t feel like a ghost in his house and Luke was no longer sleeping on a couch. Life is good until it isn’t.

Warnings: Swearing, accident, injuries, angst, car accident (this was written before If I Stay)

Words: 2.7k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog . There will be more parts, total coincidence that it has a car accident. Also appears when I try solely fluff it turns into painful angst. My apologies, the next part will be better but also prepare for it too.

A/N: Sorry for disappearing. I have Lost Time Part 2 finished, If I Stay Part 2 is also finished but I really want to put a new part out for What If...? so here you go!

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hollywood, 1996

A hot cup of your morning brew cradled in your hand you stared out the window to the garage where Sunset Curve had practiced for years. A year had passed since The Orpheum; the band got signed to a label with an EP being dropped. The moment money came to the band Luke, Alex and Reggie had pooled money to buy the house the garage belonged to. You just happened to be over a lot still being seventeen.

“Hey,” Luke spoke, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his body tight against yours. His chin resting on your shoulder as his hand swiped the mug to take a swig from it.

“Hey!”

“Don’t sound so offended.” Luke chuckled, “I’ve tasted other things that belong to you.”

“Disgusting.” Alex gagged walking by the couple with distaste written clearly all over his face. He adored you two together, but he didn’t like the activities that you frequently did behind closed doors.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play wrestle in the middle of the night.” Reggie scoffed heading up the stairs to his room while Alex blinked after him.

“I- and he wonders why he’s still single.” Alex sighed, heading to the living room to watch a film whereas Bobby was grabbing a quick drink before leaving. The only member of the band that didn’t live in the house but then again, he didn’t have issues with his parents; well if he did, he never told anyone else.

A snicker fell from your lips as a deep chuckled vibrated through the body courtesy of Luke’s close quarters with you. His arms tightened when you shifted in his arms, glancing at his watch before you pushed the mug back into his hand.

“Gotta go.” You sighed, pressing a kiss to Luke’s cheek and freeing yourself from his warm embrace to nab the bag from the chair. Luke released a whine detesting the emptiness in his arms, “As much as I would have to stay and cuddle all day, I have plans.”

Luke released a long sigh with a nod glancing as Bobby’s gaze fixated your form heading for the front door. He snapped out of it when Luke hit his chest.

“C’mon man! That’s my girl.” Luke scoffed, making his way for the stairs, “Go, home, dude.”

Bobby did as he was told glancing up at the ceiling where each boy would be in their bedrooms until practice later that night. Bobby couldn’t help that he found you attractive, but he would never step over the line with his bandmate. You were already gone when Bobby got outside and the harsh glare on the back of his head from Luke.

Lance had picked up his daughter itching to play you the bones of the new song he had recorded with the band. It was by far his favourite one given that it was centered on you growing up which he both hated and loved. He had missed more of your life than he cared to admit so it is the last year before you would leave the house, he had taken a break from touring.

“It’s not fully finished. The working title is Bittersweet.” Your father spoke glancing over, “It’s slower than our usual song, but I have ideas.”

“What was the inspiration?” You questioned leaning your head back to glance over at him. A small smile tugged at the rock star in the driver’s seat.

“Almost twenty-years ago a struggling musician snuck into a concert he couldn’t afford. A struck of luck had a pretty ballet dancer attending too. It was an odd love story, and that musician had a double miracle. Eighteen years ago, he met the second love of his life.” Lance had a way with words that entranced anyone, whether it be musically or not.

“That musician was you.” You took a guess that ended up being right when Lance nodded, “Dad.”

“I was hoping you would harmonize on it with me? My sound guy is incorporating your voice as a baby, and in the ending, I want you to say something.”

A bright smile turned the corners of your mouth up while silent tears rolled down your cheeks at the idea he had. At that moment, you also decided to keep the collaboration and song a secret from your boyfriend and friends.

“I’d love to.” You spoke swiftly hugging his arm before he was shoving you back to your seat and his arm slung in front of you.

A blindly light made its presence known for a second before a loud crack shattered around you and your body was slammed the dash—a scream coming from your father before everything went quiet. You prone form slumped onto the crushed door unaware of the cries taking place outside the car.

Lance moaned fluttering his eyelids as consciousness brought him into the world again. His brain struggling to make sense of why the car was on its side. It connected when his first thought was his daughter.

“Sweetheart.” Lance’s tongue caught the copper taste in his mouth, but it was the petrifying taste fear that lingered as he received no response.

Straining his neck, he could see now you were laying against the crushed passenger door of the car; the car on its side with Lance strapped to the seat. A sharp cry released as he caught the blood coating the profile of his little girl. A haunting sound of Bittersweet filled the car among Lance’s sobs.

In the home of Sunset Curve, it was notoriously known that the only channel on TV was MTV, never the news. As usual, the guys were fighting over what kind of pizzas, they should order unaware of the countless news reports on a car crash. It wouldn’t be under hours later that they found out.

“Guys!” Alex’s head snapped up as Bobby struggled to breathe in the entrance of the kitchen, leaving the front door wide open.

“Mushrooms Bobby?” Reggie inquired oblivious to the tension radiating off the rhythm guitarist. Bobby had enough sweat it was like they had just finished a fifteen song setlist under boiling lights.

“Have you guys seen MTV?” Bobby demanded gaining the attention of his three bandmates as looking lost at the uncharacteristic anxious boy.

“Is our song playing?” Luke spoke, leaning over the island with a grin. His messy hair almost covering his hazel eyes.

Bobby didn’t reply other than to rush over to the tv to get to MTV. Instead of music blasting the house, a somber person was sitting on a chair.

“The musical world is struggling as the world waits for news on musician Lancaster Jameson following a car accident early this afternoon. Little news has been released on the circumstances leading to the crash on the occupants with both vehicles.” The man spoke sitting on a stool behind a makeshift desk.

Luke’s heart dropped at the words that rocked him to the core. His body working on autopilot was already moving to the door, he needed to be there for you. You must be terrified for your father. Luke had to be there for you. He just didn’t know you were in the car as well.

“An emergency response official revealed, however, that as they used the jaws of life, a song was still playing. A song very unlike anything Lancaster’s band has released before.”

A taxi, courtesy of Alex, pulled up beside the lead singer with his friend helping him into the backseat before joining him as well. Little did they know about the scene at the hospital.

Your mother, Nancy, sat silently ripping apart a Kleenex a nurse had graciously given the woman as she waited with bated breath. Her pallor pale and gaunt under the harsh hospital lights where she waited to hear the news for her family. Her tears began to fall as Luke, and his bandmate appeared in the ER.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” Alex spoke, heading straight for the woman pushing the fears and anxious feelings to be dealt with at another time.

The woman couldn’t look Luke in the eye, knowing that the media had been issued legal documents to ensure you were kept out of the news. The lawyers had swiftly jumped on that part of the accident while your mother worried herself with the what-ifs swirling in her head.

“Luke.” She breathed, leaning to pull the teenager into a hug, “I’m sorry I couldn’t call.”

“I understand. You need to focus on Lance.” Luke supplied, stepping back to look around the room for you. His brows furrowed at the lack of evidence you were there, “Where’s Y/N?”

Nancy’s eyes watered further at the mention of her daughter still in surgery looking over to Alex, who collapsed into the chair understanding the look. Luke didn’t see it.

“I suppose the lawyers did an excellent job.” Nancy sighed, digging deep inside herself to lead the teenage boy to the chairs be had settled into, “I’m very sorry, Luke. Our lawyers reacted to the accident, but Lance’s name was already released. He wasn’t alone.”

“Y/N-“

“She’s in surgery right now.” Nancy’s voice broke slumping into the chair, returning to shredding the Kleenex in her hand. Alex was stock still in his chair, “I’ve been told she was lucky. There hasn’t been news on Lance yet.”

“Oh my god.” Luke breathed, staring at the scuffed shoes he had had for years by now with a little doodle you had done one night. The world faded as Luke went over a single moment, he had shared with you, and something burned; something he had carried for months now felt heavier than ever before.

Hours went by for Luke, Alex and your mother slowly the ER waiting room grew to have Reggie for support. He was the most serious he had been in his entire life; he had contacted the Patterson family but pleaded they wait for news at home. Reggie knew Luke wouldn’t be able to deal with his unresolved issues with his parents and the grief.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” A doctor wearing scrubs called outgaining the attention of Nancy who rushed up to the older doctor, “Please follow me.”

Nancy wavered in her steps as the doctor brought the middle-aged woman to a quiet room where the sound of a heart monitor beeped. Nancy was quick to rush over to the body, resting still out from the medication.

“Y/N.” Your mother breathed collapsing into a chair where she grasped your hand tightly. Her eyes took in the superficial cuts on your face and the brace on your wrist.

“She’s miraculously lucky for the severe car accident, she has a minor concussion along with a broken wrist. We had to remove her appendix or spleen, but she’ll be fine. The seat belt, however, snapped upon impact.” The doctor spoke facing the sobbing woman with pity in his eyes, “By the bruise across her chest we can see that your husband protected her, the media calls with ‘being soccer mom’d’ or my daughter does. Had he not done that the injuries would have been too severe to survive or she would have been in a vegetative state for the rest of her life.”

“Lance. Is he okay?”

“We need to talk about that. If you could follow me, we’ll let your daughter rest.”

Sunset Curve came to an early hiatus in their music career as Luke refused to leave your room from the moment he was allowed. When visitor hours were up, you could find him in his car struggling from sneaking into your room, but the warning of charges from the guard kept him in his place. For the first time in his life, Luke had no urge to put pen to paper or strum a single tune on his guitar.

He would stay silent in the chair beside your bed, holding tight to your hand in despair and guilt. He would, of course, visit Lance when your mother came to see you, they traded off not wanting either one to be alone.

A moan from the bed brought the attention of Luke and Alex, who had visited today to convince his best friend to come home for a shower.

“Baby?” Luke lunged closer as your eye fluttered open scanning the room with bleary eyes and sadness, “Hey.”

“Why are you holding my hand?” You questioned glancing at the hand intertwined with yours. Luke’s face dropped stumbling back at the look you cast him.

 “You don’t-“

“I woke up from an accident, and you can’t hug me?” You finished staring at the boy down, unaware the delivery of the question could very well be better than it was. Luke heaved a sigh gently, pulling you into a hug.

“That was cruel. I thought you didn’t remember me.”

“Luke forgetting you is like forgetting what the moon is.” You spoke wincing as you leaned back, “What’s the damage?”

Luke’s eyes glared at the nonchalant behaviour you displayed. At the same time, he was an utter mess from a week of sleeplessness and crippling fear. Alex’s deep sigh as he pushed down on Luke’s shoulders to place him back in the chair.

“The damage is you’ve been unconscious for a week with a minor concussion, a broken wrist, a bruised knee that was recently diagnosed, you are one spleen less, and you won’t have to worry about getting appendicitis. You will be incredibly sore from the bruises as well.” Alex supplied leaning to gently hug your form for even if you were dating his ex you had quickly grown to be a surrogate little sister.

“Oh.” You blinked, turning to stare at the wall, “What about my Dad?”

“He’s fine. He’s been struggling with orderlies every day to escape to check on you.” Luke spoke, “Your mom and I have had to do shifts between rooms during visitation hours. Security wasn’t happy to find me in here after hours.”

“Good.” You nodded leaning back in the bed staring up at the ceiling muttering a reply when Alex murmured, he would head to tell your parents you were awake.

Luke once had romantic plans before the accident, but when he found out about your accident, everything hit him. What-ifs of never living his dreams with you, of the things he might never get to do.

“Your hand better heal fast so that brace can come off.” Luke spoke, keeping his gaze on your face entirely in love with you. Your look of confusion amusing him, “Well how will the ring fit?”

“Ring?” You questioned becoming owl-eyed when Luke pulled out a stunning ring from his pocket, “Oh my god.”

“You tend to change my plans with everything you do. I was going to have this big speech and a romantic dinner, but I can’t wait.” Luke spoke, leaning to wipe away a tear from your eye, “I never want to be that scared again so until I can blow your socks off with a better proposal will you marry me?”

Your hand cupped the smooth cheek of the boy you loved more than words could ever say, “No.”

Luke’s heart broke at the words he never anticipated to hear, “What?”

“I say this because I love you, but I don’t want to go into an engagement with bad blood between you and your parents. You’ve shown them that your dream was worth it, but now you have to reach out. I want only happiness when we get engaged.”

Luke nodded his head, putting the ring back in his pocket, disappointed in the response, but what could he do? You gave a reason, and while definitely annoyed him he couldn’t fault your compassionate nature. For once in your entire relationship, the silence was awkward.

“So…” You trailed off, avoiding looking at Luke, “Have you decided on a tracklist for the album?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Luke shook his head only to be relieved when your parents came into the room. Nancy was already crying as she collapsed into the chair.

“Oh baby.” Nancy spoke, pressing a kiss to the bruised forehead you currently rocked. Lance scowled as he was rolled closer to the bed by the orderly.

“I’m fine.” You grumbled as your mom scanned every part of you, “Seriously!”

“I almost lost my baby.” Your mom snapped before apologizing at raising her tone, “Let me coddle you.”

You resigned yourself, but there was a sadness inside as Luke shared a goodbye before leaving you alone with your parents. You really wished you hadn’t been wrong in your decision.

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[lesbiansforboromir]

(I didn’t finish my sentence lmfaoo. I meant I don’t hate the movies portrayal of D B and F’s relationship but I might’ve preferred it in the books ahaha sry my bad lol) yeah that’s kind of an issue with create movies of book, ppl just assume it’s the same cause it’s an adaptation. The books are a Lot too, so ppl might not even wanna bother cause they’re not easy to read vs watching an Adaption of them, so they’ll never know the og characters.

I only rewatch lotr recently after years of growing up with it and tbh I completely forgot that Gondor was a Thing, it rly is just kinda forgettable in the movies.

This is rly making me want to tackle the books lol. The differences are gonna be something to adjust to.

Apart from the Gondor dudes who would you say gets the biggest change? Or worse in your opinion

Oh no I do hate the dynamic of the steward family in the films jdahkjasd Honestly I think this portrayal of abusive parents being just ugly and easily identifiable as villains is somewhat regressive but No worries no worries.

ANd yeah... Gondor really is so forgettable in the films I-

BUT YEAH UM... I guess I can’t say everyone can I um, lets start talking and see how many we get through.

Merry and Pippin got an absolutely tragic reduction in the films. In the books they’re frodo’s friends long before the film, Merry is Frodo’s best friend, he loves Frodo so much he helps him move house and deals with his obnoxious family. Merry actually organises the whole trip, he figures out Frodo intends to leave on his own and secretly organises to go with him JUST because he’s his best friend. He’s like yo, you’ve got something scary you’ve got to do Frodo? Don’t know why you thought we’d let you do it on your own. Merry saves the whole quest by doing this! Frodo would have died before he even got out of the Shire if not for Merry. 

Gimli’s portrayal, also a tragedy. Peter Jackson saw dwarf and immediately decided ‘comic relief’, despite the fact that Gimli is more polite than Aragorn or Legolas, is a poet and has one of the longest monologues about art and culture in the whole book. It guts me thinking about it. 

Eowyn has a severe reduction in her feelings and character, her monologue is sanitised away from a much more bitter and angry condemnation of her people’s culture around women. We got a more patronising image of her relationship with Merry too. 

FRODO, oh god Frodo I’m so sorry, Frodo was clever and masterful and adult and!! He was funny! And sarcastic, he was philosophical and cunning. Films tell you that Merry and Pippin were like thieves, NO Merry and Pippin were very upstanding young gentlemen and Farmer Maggot thought very highly of them both. FRODO is the criminal in this group who stole his mushrooms! Frodo asked questions and made plans and tried to figure things out by himself, he wasn’t this strange melancholic ring box to be ushered places. Frodo saved the world by TAKING the ring’s power on mount doom after planning how to do that and cursing gollum to essentially drop the ring into the mountain of fire LIKE. Frodo had agency! SAM TOO fsfdgsdfgs I skip frodo and sam’s scenes in the films but i love them in the books. 

Aragorn and Gandalf are vastly different characters in the films in that they’re likable. And this is... better for Aragorn I think. Although I miss him being a little more snarky and self important and sharp, but it’s better than Aragorn’s likable which he thoroughly isn’t in the books in my opinion. I MEAN... he’s- he’s very complex in the books and there are likable moments amongst him snapping at people and talking about himself. But for Gandalf I think it was a thorough detriment. Which hurts, love Ian Mckellen, that’s my grandad, but Gandalf was like genuinely manipulative in the books and literally could not stand being wrong despite being wrong quite a lot. Constantly Gandalf will angrily and rudely snap at people who rightly critisise his choices (Boromir for one) and this is good because you don’t want an infallible morally irreproachable dad for this whole adventure. It’s much more interesting this way. 

Eomer, miss him being a little more young and fiery and a little out of his depth but proud and confident even so. Like I know Karl Urban was exactly 27 in the films but he felt very world weary and kind of ‘I’ve had it’ when he’d only just become Third Marshall like barely a year ago. AND OF COURSE, this is compounded by the way Theodred’s death is portrayed like... askjdas like oops! Our 18 year old prince just died in this lil stream in this small lil battle huh weird- NO!! Theodred was 41!! And had died in a MASSIVE battle against Isengard! He was assassinated in fact, the whole point of the battle was to assassinate Theodred because he’d been so influential to maintaining Rohan’s stability despite all Grima and Saruman’s efforts. Eomer was a man who’d just lost a mentor, an adopted elder brother! Anyway...

Um... honourable mention for Hama... our dear doorward... miss you being relevant and telling Aragorn to fuck off babe. Farmer Maggot, miss you being relevant and like the literal best. Haldir, miss you NOT being relevant dwarfist bastard but I love to watch you die. Galadriel and Celeborn, not enough she pegs him energy, not enough of her being scary and unknowable, not enough of her laughing. Bilbo! I’m sorry they didn’t let you go back to the Lonely Mountain that’s miserable my guy.... Gollum’s alright... I think that’s everyone who exists in the films and books both. 

So this still ended up as everyone :)

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 6/?: Roots

It's pouring rain by the time Sasuke awakens, a tempestuous sort of hush awash a village swathed in grey. He's gotten a very good night's sleep, only waking once around five to groggily hearken as the pitter patter of droplets began against the asphalt and metal of the roof. He'd watched the beads of liquid slowly connect to others, forming small rivulets pulled downwards by gravity on the glass of his bedroom window, before he made the decision to try to fall back asleep. To his bewilderment, it had actually worked; a rare occurrence, as it usually doesn't. No dreams, no nightmares, just blissful emptiness, like he was allowed for once to drink in the moisture of rest like a tonic, exuding into his being much like the precipitation trickling into the soil outside.

It's nine thirty when he rolls out of bed, reluctant to leave the warm requiescence of his comforter, but also wanting to give himself plenty of time to get ready. He'd like to shower before he heads over to Sakura’s, and he also wants to eat something light for breakfast first. He decides on ochazuke, because it’s relatively easy to prepare and he thinks he would like more tea; two birds with one stone. There are sesame seeds in his cupboard that he could sprinkle over the dish, at the end. He sets a portion of brown rice to boil before brewing a cup of the caffeinated green sencha to eventually seep over it.

It smells really good as it permeates into the hot water, earthiness propelling upwards and sinking into his nostrils. He'll have to thank her again today, now that he knows what her gift actually contained.

While he lets things stew, Sasuke considers the kitchen table, where he left the remainder of the gifts yesterday. Now is as good a time as any to find a place for each of them, he supposes. He makes quick work of washing the paring board before setting it aside to dry. The cough drops find a home in his bathroom's mostly empty storage behind the mirror; he takes the two lozenges left from the hospital and puts them there, too, to use before he opens any of the new packages.

He decides that the photo should go on the bedside table, next to the clock. He can always move it, if he changes his mind. It catches his eye for longer than is strictly necessary.

Eventually he returns to the kitchen, removing the strainer from the tea and stirring the pot of rice twice as he waits for it to finish cooking. The barrage has lessened since daybreak, not overly loud, but enough to create an ambient sort of background noise that is a nice change of pace; less of a storm and more of a quenched thirst for the earth, emptying from rooftops down the gutters and into the ground. Sakura’s building is older, too; it probably will sound much the same at her apartment.

He savors the ochazuke once it’s finished, a simple but enjoyable way to start the day, caffeine threading its way into his system gradually. Washing the dishes is his next task, followed by an extremely lengthy shower, temperature near thermogenic. The bruises from his two spars with Naruto are still sore, but not terrible; the heat feels good on the marred skin. Water drifts across more bruising that has bled into existence overnight on his shins, before it sinks between his toes and vanishes down the drain. He’s not sure why he watches it; it just seems compelling today for some reason, everything pulling downward.

When he’s dry, he throws on a comfortable pair of black pants and a matching long-sleeved shirt. He doesn’t want to read more of his book since he has a little less than half left of the one on kenjutsu, so he decides to complete some meal prep instead, testing out the paring board by chopping and slicing various produce; mushrooms, bell peppers, broccoli, carrots, tomatoes, green onions, and burdock roots are slowly removed from his fridge, cleaved into neat pieces, and then returned to their respective assortment of bags and containers. The small bits of metal attached to the board allow for cutting goods with ease, a bit ingenious. It works extremely well, much more efficient than the hassle of summoning a clone to simply stand there holding each item still. It’s not that he doesn’t have the chakra to spare, but it feels more dignified this way.

After enough time has passed, Sasuke pulls on a pair of grey socks, sandals, and his cloak before he leaves, library book concealed and protected by the black garment.

It’s marginally chilly outside, but not terribly cold like it would have been earlier in the morning. Petrichor overwhelms him, an aroma he is well acquainted with. He is reminded of the scent of the foliage the handful of times he passed through the Land of Rain, and also of drizzly days spent as a child here in Konoha. Every bit of vegetation he glimpses on the way to Sakura’s apartment complex is drinking up the liquid greedily, drop after drop of nourishment with which they will sustain themselves and use to grow.

The puddles are starting to join in their crevices, small streams of gentle cascades forming. It captures his attention like the shower drain did earlier, and it feels nostalgic for some reason, like there is some forgotten secret that the land beneath is whispering through the medium of interconnected pools, rippling outward until they touch more solid soil.

His hair is a bit damp when he arrives at her building just prior to eleven. Illumination flows from beneath doorways of variegated colors; everyone else is inside today, too. The tonality is similar to the harmony overheard at his own apartment, as he expected; he finds it comforting.

He knows he’s a little early, so Sasuke takes his time going up the stairs. Once he reaches the sage green of her threshold, he raps twice and waits, studying Sakura’s plants in their terracotta pots. There are a few amongst them that he doesn’t recognize, which is curious, given that he’s wandered so many places and has grown familiar with a vast diversity of flora. There is lucky bamboo pushed towards the back of the array, in the area that gets the least amount of light. A spider plant is to its left, and a golden pothos, along with a snake plant, are sandwiched to its right, towards the corner. A lilac moth orchid blooms near her door, a paler variety than he has seen anywhere else. Coral kalanchoe spill out the side of a taller planter, next to pink and pistachio mums, faded yellow butterfly ranunculus, and a small vessel filled with white daffodils, sunny insides flourishing outwards. There are succulents, too, tricolor lavender scallops sprinkled throughout several of the ceramic containers, along with a strain he doesn’t recognize.

Yarrow and jewelweed emerge from smaller pots on the edge of the spread, which makes him wonder if the few plants he’s unfamiliar with are being grown for useful purposes rather than decorative. Perhaps she keeps them for her work crafting antidotes; he knows that the roots of plants can often carry medicinal benefits. One of them is quite odd looking, now that he is peering down at it closely; dark plum-colored stems spread upwards with circular leaf-like shapes at the crown, trains of spiky white flowers budding from them. Another one he can’t identify has a tiny whitish yellow flower, dwarfed by the huge wrinkled leaves that surround it.

They appear as if they have been tended already, the loam damp as it is outside with no opportunity for warmth to dry them as of yet, though this verdure is more tame, less wild. She must water them in the morning. All of them are so different, yet they are all alike, too, stringy germinations and rhizomes expanding to suffuse through their similar planters.

Her door clicks open, and he shifts. Sakura smiles up at him, sunshine on a rainy day accented by a dimple, wearing an extremely comfortable-looking outfit: an oversized cream crewneck that slips off one of her shoulders a little, and a juniper pair of jogging pants that he thinks would be too long for her if not for the gathering at the ankles.

"Good morning, Sasuke-kun," she greets, eyes he loves radiant on his. "It's almost ready; come in."

He responds, “Morning,” and follows her inside, placing his library book on the console table momentarily, where her lamp is already switched on. As he shrugs off his cloak and toes off his sandals, she drifts back to the kitchen, something likely needing her attention there. He notices as she goes that there is an extremely fuzzy pair of beige socks on her feet.

As he hangs his cloak, he realizes that her apartment smells like roasted tomatoes and toasting bread, overpowering any vague notes of her tea cabinet in a way that makes his mouth water.

Sasuke reaches for his book from the console table and goes further into her living space, where the rest of her lamps are also turned on already; no hard lighting. He assumes they'll read on her couch, so he sets the text on the end table, closest to the side where he’d sat the previous night. There are two blankets thrown over the sofa now that weren't there yesterday, one appearing plush that is a color somewhere between mauve and lavender, and the other one a knit heather grey. It’s probable that they came from her bedroom; perhaps the walls are some variant of violet, a color he would not have expected.

As he turns, intending to join Sakura in the kitchen, his eye catches on a familiar photo, and he stops. Perched on one of the few empty areas of one of her bookshelves is their original Team Seven portrait, in a pale wood frame, near white. It's different in finish from the other frames adorning her walls near the kitchen, much lighter in color.

He is struck by it for multiple reasons; it wasn’t there yesterday, meaning it probably has also come from her bedroom, and it is very close in finish to the wood of the uchiwa fan he gave her as a birthday gift. He hasn’t seen it; Sasuke knows most women keep ornamental fans like that in storage for safekeeping. He vaguely recalls his own mother used to keep hers, though less ornate and made of paper rather than silk, in boxes, stored securely for future use at festivals and such in her closet. She’d shown them to him, once, and he’d seen her carrying them on special occasions, from time to time.

Sasuke studies the picture and the wood grain for a long moment, gaze softening. He wonders if she moved it out here to make him feel more at home.

He breaks his contemplation by making his way to her kitchen finally, where Sakura is flipping a grilled cheese sandwich over in a pan, one of two. A slow cooker lies atop the counter, lid condensed with moisture, with plates, bowls, and spoons laid out next to it.

It smells really good.

Green eyes fall on him, bright and filled with exuberance. "These are on their last minute, I think, so if you wanted to, you could dish up the soup while I finish them. There’s a ladle in there.” She gestures towards the drawer beneath the counter where the slow cooker rests. “It's tomato miso; I hope you like it. It should be done by now.”

His stomach suddenly feels tied in knots in the best sort of way. A gilding of warmth spreads throughout his entire being, veins and arteries and capillaries slowly immersed in something numinous.

“...I’m sure I’ll like it,” he murmurs, reveling in the blush that inks its way onto her cheeks, all the way back on her cheekbones to surround the freckle he’d touched yesterday. She looks away shyly, grinning like he has given her some grand compliment. The corners of his own mouth twist upwards.

Sasuke pulls the ladle from the aforementioned drawer, where it sits amongst other utensils, setting it in one of the bowls already placed on the counter. When he removes the lid, his olfactory senses instantly flood with a wave of savory miso; by the aroma, she must have used red, middle range, a perfect foil for the acidity of tomatoes. When he grabs the ladle again, he stirs it a few times; quartered shiitake mushrooms, kombu, scallions, and tomato chunks - he thinks they are of the plum variety - circle the pot, filling it near to the brim just below the surface. Sakura has made a considerable amount of it, much more than is needed for a single meal for two.

He shifts the plates closer to the slow cooker, bowls set atop them, before ladling soup in, careful not to spill and making sure to get an even mixture of produce with which to fill the broth in each. He rinses the ladle clean, and she mentions that there are small plates in the cupboard to his upper left, to rest the ladle on; he grabs one as she moves to open a different cupboard behind him.

Sasuke returns the lid to its place to trap in the slow cooker’s heat, rotating the dial from hot, past low and into the warming setting. When he turns back to Sakura, she’s shutting the stove off and moving the pan to a cool burner. Both of the sandwiches are resting on a cutting board, sliced diagonally.

The sandwiches smell really good, too. She veers the halves onto the empty space of the plates using the knife, before leaving it, along with the paring board, in the sink.

They each grab a plate and spoon before heading to her dining table, in front of the northern window. The dangling market lamp is already turned on, and fat droplets are slipping down the glass.

It’s a calming lunch they share, a steady lulling of inclement background noise alternating between bites of sandwich and spoonfuls of soup as they watch the street below. The avocado is good in grilled cheese; it’s something he would have never thought to add. Sakura dips hers into her soup, so he tries it, too, and finds he likes it even better that way. The soup on its own is something else, though; filling and savory, near perfectly spiced. She’s a good cook.

“It’s good. Thank you,” he compliments halfway through as she chews and swallows a bite.

She beams at him. “You’re welcome.” She studies him before adding, “There’s enough for leftovers, if you’d like any more.”

He nods and takes another mouthful, looking out the glass thoughtfully. The residential buildings across the way are also lit up, soft light blurred through the fractals of raindrops.

“Do you think Naruto’s doing his homework on a day like today?” Sakura asks eventually.

“Tch.” He turns his gaze to her. “I doubt he’s even awake yet.”

Her grin is mischievous. “You’re probably right. It's his weekend. No Hinata around to wake him up? Definitely still asleep.” She sighs exaggeratedly. “Kakashi-sensei will be so disappointed. Though it’s better than copying someone else’s, I guess.”

“...Did he used to copy yours?” He’s more amused by that prospect than he should be, though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

Sakura furrows fine pink brows as if she knows that he knows the answer, too, but she’s still smiling. “He used to ask if he could. I was too good of a student to let him.”

“...Figures.” A ghost of a smile overtakes him, a cleansing sort of sentimental fondness for bygone days during which their third squad member was at his most annoying.

“I think Shikamaru used to let him. It was too much effort to say no that many times.”

Sasuke exhales through his nose, a rendition of a laugh as she takes another bite of her sandwich, dipping it first in the soup and looking amused. Nara would.

He also takes another bite, and mulls over his next words.

Swallowing beforehand, he inquires, “...What’s in Suna?”

Sakura blinks in surprise, analytical eyes quickly working out that he’s referring to her comment yesterday at Ichiraku’s. She turns to the window, smirking and chewing her food as if considering something of great importance. The dimple sinks in and out as her mouth moves; he averts his eyes back to his plate before he gets caught staring.

When she swallows, she’s quiet for a long moment, then says ambiguously, “I’m not sure I should say anything. Insider knowledge.”

Interesting. Sasuke is sure she has the same friendly camaraderie with Nara that she has with everyone else, but he assumes the insider knowledge must have actually come from Ino; she is the type to know everyone’s business, given how much she apparently shares her own with Sakura, and she is Shikamaru’s teammate, though they're both Jonin now.

“...No hints?” He presses, pinning her with a stare. Now he’s more curious; it must be something good, if it’s a secret of this magnitude.

She bites her lip, still grinning, then bites into her sandwich, watching precipitation race down the glass.

“One,” she finally acquiesces, as if it’s a monumental conspiracy. He raises an eyebrow in anticipation.

“It’s in Suna sometimes. Other times, not.”

He narrows his eyes and suppresses an urge to twitch, because that could really be anything, given their line of work, but based on her bemused expression, he’s not going to get more than that. He settles for studying her until she looks elsewhere, a shy giggle escaping her throat as if this is very funny.

“Sorry. Not mine to tell.” She raises another spoonful of soup to her lips.

“...But Kakashi knows?”

She swallows. “Oh, yes. He might have known before anyone else caught on.”

“Naruto?”

Sakura appears to be deliberating. “...Mmm, he’s more observant than when we were kids, so he might. I kind of doubt it though. They’re pretty good friends now, but…”

Sasuke hadn’t known that. He waits for her to finish her thought, staring at her pointedly. Her gaze flicks back up to his after a second.

She shrugs, then. “He’s a good strategist. I kind of think he’ll hold a higher-up position, once Naruto becomes Hokage, if Kakashi-sensei doesn’t promote him before that. He’d be an asset as an adviser.”

Shikamaru became the chief coordinator of the Shinobi Union, after the war. That type of advancement would make a lot of sense. He would be well-suited to assist the Hokage even now, moreso in a few years. It speaks to Naruto’s increase in awareness, Sasuke thinks, that he would be planning ahead to compensate for areas he is less strong in by appointing sensible counsel. A clan head is an astute choice, especially one who has put in efforts to make peace.

It’s odd, to think of the roles everyone in their generation has come or will come to fill, the more he considers it. Distinctively different plants with roots distending into analogous vessels, like the terracotta ones on Sakura’s doorstep.

“Nara’s a good choice for that,” Sasuke finally says, realizing he should respond.

Sakura inclines her head before lifting her bowl to her mouth to drink the last of her broth. She’s finished her sandwich now. He’s about finished with his, too.

This is nice, he thinks as she smiles at him before glancing outside again. “It’s really coming down now, huh?”

It’s the type of question that doesn’t really need an answer, but he nods anyway, because it is. Meager ponds are collecting in the street, rills tracing pathways over the awnings of the building across the thoroughfare. Pitter patters on the roof have grown in intensity to rival those of the early morning. It reminds him almost of the summer monsoons Konoha tends to get, though this clearly isn't one, still being in the throes of spring. Moisture is good for roots, he supposes.

He sips the last of the broth from his bowl, and she looks back to him. “Would you like another bowl? Or maybe some tea? I can brew some while I do the dishes.”

Sasuke considers the offer. It was a pretty filling meal, the soup piquant and packed with produce as it was. “...Tea would be good. I can help.”

Sakura seems like she’s going to protest, so he adds, “Thank you for the sencha… and the rest. I didn’t have loose leaf yet; I like it.”

She flushes, smiling at him softly. “You’re welcome.”

A silence filled by drizzle passes in which they regard each other, and then she’s standing to collect her plates, so he follows her example and grabs his own before trailing behind her to the kitchen.

It’s early enough still that they can have caffeinated tea, so she cycles through the loose leaf options she has as the sink fills with suds; matcha, chai, ginger peach, white monkey, and rose bouquet white. “The white monkey isn’t as sweet as it usually is; I think I got a unique batch. It’s more woody and peppery than anything; I’ve been mixing it with matcha.” There are the pre-packaged versions, too, but she doesn’t read them off, since they have more specifically sweet flavors, like caramel vanilla, banana dessert, and strawberry shortcake.

He picks white monkey at her recommendation of it not being too cloying, and she grabs one of the banana dessert pre-packaged tea bags for herself. Sakura makes short work of setting the water in the kettle to boil before procuring two teacups and siphoning some of the white monkey blend into a small strainer she pulls from another drawer.

Once she’s done that, she unplugs the slow cooker and reaches for something from a lower cupboard - two hand towels - to put on the counter; he assumes one is to utilize as a dish mat and the other is to actually dry with.

“If you really want to, you can dry… But you’re a guest, so you don’t have to,” she murmurs, expression affectionate in a way that makes his neck warm.

So Sasuke helps. She washes and rinses - her dish soap is lemon-scented - and strategically sets each piece atop the first towel he’s laid out. He dries one side of the plates and bowls, then flips them over one-handed to dry the other, stacking them on the clean expanse of counter to his right. It doesn’t take very long with them working together. When she goes to empty the sink, she gives it a scrub and a rinse with the soapy sponge she’s been using, efficient as always, before rinsing any remnant suds from her own hands.

“I can show you where everything goes,” Sakura says, so Sasuke helps her put things away, too, mentally cataloging what’s in each cupboard for future reference. Her storage system is well thought out, organized in a way that makes the most sense for the layout of the space.

When she reaches upwards to put the cutting board back in its place, the sleeve of her top slips further to one side, gravity pulling the fabric downwards on her slender frame and exposing some of the skin of her upper back. There is a dusting of tiny freckles just above the interior portion of her left shoulder blade that he hadn’t known was there. The way they are scattered reminds him of serpens caput, missing only one of the constellation’s general equivalent of stars. He forces his stare away, ears reddening, when she turns to remove the pot from the slow cooker.

“Thank you for helping.” Sakura adds coconut creamer and sugar to her own cup of tea, stirring. “Would you like lemon with this one?”

Sasuke thinks, still a little distracted by dainty freckles, before shaking his head. If it’s woody and peppery, he’ll probably like it fine on its own. She pushes his teacup towards him on the counter with a look that tells him to test it, so he does, and finds he was right; it’s herbaceous, with a scant amount of woodiness and pepper lurking underneath. Maybe the tiniest hint of sweetness, but barely.

“It’s good,” he tells her quietly, before taking another sip.

Apparently the grey blanket is reserved for him; she takes the lavender once they head to the living room, curling up on one end of the couch with it, tea and her book on the table. Based on her bookmark, she’s about halfway through hers. Sasuke does the same on the other end, mirroring her pose, back propped towards the side of the couch with feet extending to the middle rather than going off the front. He keeps his knees slightly bent so he doesn’t invade her space too much, though he doesn’t think she would mind.

He steals one last glance at her before opening his own book to get lost in the different ways to wield a blade. The rain on Sakura’s roof is ataractic, accented by the pleasant smell of tea, the sensation of a full belly, and a warm blanket that smells like her, though it’s more raspberry this time than any lingering antiseptic.

It’s nearly three by the time he finishes his book, mind swimming with descriptions of sword forms. Sasuke peeks at her and sees she’s almost done, too, so he rereads the more engrossing passages, the ones that were particularly well fleshed-out. He’s so relaxed that he thinks he could fall asleep despite the caffeine, if he closed his eyes for more than a few minutes; focusing on rereading should help him stay awake.

Sakura closes her book after a bit; he looks upward at the sound, meeting green.

“How was your book?” She asks, lips twisting upwards; she must have noticed he finished his, despite still reading her own.

"...Good."

“Learn anything?”

“...A bit.”

Her smile widens as if she is amused; maybe he should elaborate, but he’s not sure if practical applications of swordsmanship are something she’s interested in.

Evidently they are, because she questions, “Care to share?”

Sasuke begins explaining the concept of iaido, derived from iaijutsu, the samurai skill of drawing one’s sword and cutting in the same movement, rather than cutting from an assumed stance after already drawing the weapon. It’s a simple idea, one he’s experimented with in the past, but there had been illustrations on a few of the pages showing different forms, and two of them he has never attempted. The pictures helped; he thinks to himself when he visits the library again, he’ll seek out one containing more visual aides.

He expounds upon the chapter on dual swordsmanship, too, primarily utilizing one sword to attack and another to defend; the defensive stances detailed are some he would like to try, specifically tailored as they are to be used with one arm. Some of them he’s already used intuitively, but one of the forms captured his attention, involving a slight variant sweeping of the blade to repel an attacker that would situate them at a more advantageous angle. It could be useful, if he ever needs to draw an enemy into a trap.

“Interesting,” Sakura remarks, and it seems genuine. Maybe it is interesting, in the case of someone who has, at least to his knowledge, never used a sword. He would like to ask her about medical ninjutsu sometime. “So it was a good read?”

He inclines his head to indicate yes. “...And yours?”

Sakura grimaces. “It… wasn’t terrible, I suppose. I didn’t really like the author’s writing style. Ino and I differ in that regard. She reads things more for the story itself than the way it’s told, so sometimes this happens.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow so she’ll clarify. She shifts slightly, bringing a finger to her chin in thought. “It was too… straightforward. Limited and repetitive vocabulary, not a lot of dialogue structural variation, though it’s well-researched; I’ll give it that. It takes place during the second Shinobi War. A civilian woman’s husband going off to battle, they have to evacuate the area, the costs of conflict, that sort of thing. The ending was sad…” Her voice trails off, punctuated by the plunk of deluge, then she adds, “I guess it makes sense that the protagonist would think in limited language given the rudimentary basic education structure of everything back then, but it’s not very… poetic. It was like the author felt nothing as they wrote it, a kind of detachment from the whole thing.”

He suppresses an urge to smirk, reminiscing on her letters and extensive vocabulary. “...You like poetry.” It’s just an observation, but it’s something he hadn’t known about her, prior to now. Very Sakura.

Color floods across her cheekbones, and she looks at him with an expression that is very tender, as if there’s something else she would like to say. He could stare for hours, entranced by her as he is. “...I do.”

Sasuke wonders, then, if any of the books on her bookshelves are poetry books. He hasn’t read the titles carefully. It occurs to him that she might have more books in her bedroom, now that he’s thinking about it. When he was younger, he used to keep many of his own in his room, too, sorted by genre.

“Did you finish your other book already?” Sakura asks him, then, expression inquisitive.

He nods, eyeing her as he contemplates what he would like to say. He decides not to phrase it as a question this time; he wants her to offer, so he knows he's not requesting too much. Give her an out. She trains with Ino in the morning on Mondays and has lunch with her after, but she hasn’t said anything about her plans for the afternoon.

There’s still something in him that’s nervous, tightening as he speaks, careful to specify time. “...I was thinking of going tomorrow afternoon to get some new ones.”

Her smile unfurls slowly; Sakura really can read him well. “...I was, too.”

His chest rushes with warmth, anxiety released in a single relieved breath; it's not too much, then. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and that seems to encourage her, because she adds, “Ino and I are usually done with lunch by around one. It’s supposed to be nice out, I think. We could…” Her voice trails off, as if she’s considering. “...We could meet at the library around one thirty, and then maybe… take books to a quieter area to read, after. If you want. I... think I know a spot that should be fairly dry by then.”

“...I can meet you here,” Sasuke offers in a low voice, a confession he's more comfortable with now. The way she glows in response as she agrees is captivating.

Sakura invites him to play go with her, after. He agrees, because he wants to, and also because he doesn’t want to leave just yet. They set up the board on her dining table, a gridded battlefield of sorts beneath the market light.

She absolutely demolishes him in the first round, carefully surveying the board before each play of her white stones with careful calculation and syllogism. It’s to be expected, because she has always been smarter than him, but also because he hasn’t played in years and is woefully out of practice, ill-prepared to deal with this sort of onslaught. The second round is closer, but he still loses. It’s a challenge, as he knew it would be; Sasuke finds her moves to be quite roundabout, more about the long haul tactics of trapping than any short and quick route to victory. There are times where he realizes he unknowingly played right into a ruse more than five turns previous.

It’s four thirty by the end of the second match. Sakura’s attention flashes to the clock once as she puts away the board; he helps, sorting his own black pieces into their respective container. He will have to head out soon, though he’s not looking forward to it. He is quite comfortable here, with her.

“It’s still coming down out there,” she muses as she rises to store the box, peering through the glass before turning to make her way to the bookshelf she’d retrieved the set from earlier.

“...It is.” He gazes out the window, distracted by the puddles and their ripples below them in the street. It feels almost as if something is tugging on him to focus on them, suggesting something orphic, beyond simple rainwater.

The soft clicking of teacups and small plates being collected from her coffee table resounds behind him, so he turns to her, thinking he could offer to help wash them.

“I made enough soup for leftovers, so if you want to take some home, you can.” Sakura says, before the words make it out of his mouth. Outwardly he remains blank-faced, but something in him sighs. He’s not really sure what he's going to do with the rest of the day. Sparring with Naruto would be unwise on a day like today; he’d probably catch a cold. He could go by a store and buy a book to read, he supposes.

Being back in Konoha is odd like that. He used to just… walk, if he didn’t have anything to do on his journey, or read her letters, but now that he has had the opportunity to spend time with her, he selfishly just wants more of it. Time spent alone seems dimmer in comparison.

He would like to take some soup back to his apartment, though. It was kind of her to offer; he should probably say something.

She looks contemplative when he looks to her, though, carefully clutching porcelain, and thank you lingers in his throat, unspoken.

“Or… If you would like to stay for dinner, and do something after... you could.”

The faintest of stings begins behind his retinas, something long in the tooth stirring, aged roots buried so deeply he had perhaps forgotten they ever existed in the first place. He thinks it is the feeling of being wanted, of having a place in someone’s home.

He hopes she’s offering because she genuinely wants him to stay. She has a mountain of responsibilities, he knows, although it is her day off.

“...You’re sure?”

Pink brows furrow as if she’s confused how he could ask such a thing; she shuffles her weight slightly from one foot to the other. “Of course.”

An interlude passes in which the torrent measures time, the beat of a ballad that is very old. Her next words are hushed, pianissimo lyrics that he’s sure she has no idea just how much he has yearned for; she’s biting her lip and peeking at him from beneath pink lashes as she says them.

“I missed you, when you were gone. You… can fill as much of my free time as you’d like.”

The daunting prospect of a lonely evening evaporates completely. His tongue feels tied up in his mouth, but he nods, hoping she can read in his eyes his gratitude; he’s fairly certain that if he spoke, it would come out hoarse, not at all suitable as a response to the song she has just offered to him.

Sasuke thinks that she can see it just fine, because she gives him a breathtaking smile that could sustain him for a long time, a drop of honey added to an overflowing teacup in which he sips the surplus, with a tinge of an aftertaste that isn’t too sweet for his liking.

The dishes are tackled together. After they finish, she reheats tomato miso soup and cooks two more sandwiches for supper. Another meal is shared at her dining table, overcast skies overlapping into evening, the lights from the windows of Konoha glowing more and more as time passes. It’s just as good the second time, flavorful and filling.

They watch a geology-focused documentary on her television about lava, earthquakes, and landslides. Sakura questions him afterwards about the little time he was in the Land of Volcanoes, south of the Land of Mountains. He hadn’t stuck around for any extended time due to the extreme heat, but what time he did spend there is seared into his memory due to the intensity of it. He had come rather close to one of the region’s volcanoes, within sight of a smoking center mere miles away with lava tendrils trickling outwards, in the process of cooling but still alarmingly hot.

It makes him feel more appreciative for the rain here today, recalling it. Here in Konoha, he could touch the streamlets if he wanted to; he doesn’t need to keep a distance.

They follow up the documentary with a movie after; this time he tells Sakura to pick one. It’s unique, including some fantasy elements, about a struggle between the gods of a forest and the humans living on its edge that consume its resources. The protagonist is cursed by an animal attack, and seeks out a cure from one of the deities. While traveling, he sees other areas in which humans are ravaging the earth and warring with the gods of nature, a thought-provoking contrast considering they’ve just viewed a program detailing the inner mechanisms and wrath of volcanic eruptions, much like gods of nature in their own rights. The conclusion is open-ended; though the hero tries to broker a peace between humanity and the spirits, there is no feeling of resolution or success, no guarantee that one side will mediate with the other. It isn’t quite what he expected it to be, but he notes that the characters were quite realistic, allowing for the viewer to identify with them and better experience what they must be feeling secondhand; it was not told in a detached sort of way as she’d said the book from earlier had been.

Sakura makes earl grey tea, after, and they visit for the better part of another hour, quiet voices awash in auriferous lighting, relaxed by bergamot malt and lemon slices. She inquires about his travels, which places overall were his favorite in the four other great nations. The way she looks at him as he answers makes his heart thump, as if she is hanging on his every word.

It’s near eleven at night by the time he rises for the entryway. The kiss they share before he leaves feels like the drizzle of the rainwater outside, mellow collections grown slowly but surely deeper from time spent together, inexplicably telluric like submerging into soil.

He steps in a few unavoidable collected pools of moisture on his way back to his own apartment, drenching his socks. It makes him feel strangely nostalgic again for some reason, a reminder of a place’s capacity for change, to absorb something and thrive again.

Sasuke has seen many parts of the world now, absorbed as much as he can through his brother’s eyes, and has just relived his favorites by describing them to Sakura. She didn’t ask him about his favorite place in the Land of Fire, though.

It may easily become Sakura’s apartment.

XXX

When he sinks into slumber, he is pulled further downwards into a memory from a very long time ago, something quondam that has since dissolved.

The recollection is hazy in the ways that dreams are, slightly murky as if he is viewing it through a puddle tinged with the loam of Konoha, but perhaps there is something about Sharingan vision even unactivated that embeds the visual acuity into one’s optic nerves, to live there in perpetuity for eventual retrospect. It is one of his earliest memories, he thinks; he would have been maybe four, meaning Itachi had to have been nine or ten, though there is no one he can ask to confirm.

There had been a summer monsoon, perhaps the first one he was old enough to remember, water temperate enough to exult in without catching cold. Their mother warned them not to be outside too long in the storm, and occupied the covered porch, observing them to make sure they heeded her will. There had been no precipitation for a while prior - he thinks there may have been a drought - so the moisture was welcome. Plashets collected in their sprawling yard, causing Mikoto Uchiha’s prized white lilies to appear as if they were emerging from small lakes. She had expressed concern that they may drown upon Sasuke’s examination of them, framing the boundary of their home, but he, in that naive viridity that small children have before the world beats it out of them, thought they were strong enough to persevere.

“I’m sure you’re right, Sasuke,” his brother had said supportively, before showing him a path that allowed a step in every puddle on their family’s grounds. They had raced to the far end of their property and back; he had clumsily fallen at the end of the first pass, getting soaked, as if he wasn’t already from the warm rain coating both of them from the ashen sky above. Mud stuck between his toes, squelching and cushioning his fall while simultaneously making him filthy. It had sloughed off so easily back then in the deluge, corroding all at once and bleeding into the mess of their yard to immediate murky liquidity.

Itachi helped him up by his left hand, getting covered in his muck before the water rinsed their digits clean, and then he was being challenged to a second sprint. Sasuke emerged victorious this time, though now, looking back with eyes that are not his own, he realizes his brother obviously let him win, trained Shinobi that he was by that point. Coming to terms with that is horrifying, because he can see now that his brother was still just a child, wisdom beyond his years be damned. Sasuke is sure Itachi would have to have killed people on missions by then, completely at odds with the soft-spoken and gentle countenance he portrayed at home.

Eventually there was enough drizzle that miniature rivers of connected pools formed, capillaries of nourishment interlacing everything. Sasuke had been fascinated by the changing landscape, until Itachi had ambled up to the porch to speak with their mother. Disappointment swept into him like a tide; he had thought that his brother didn’t want to play with him anymore. But then their mother had risen and gone indoors, and Itachi motioned for him to join him at the edge, beneath the awning.

She came back carrying a small pile of paper, which confused him. He’d watched, enthralled, as Itachi folded one of the pieces into something reminiscent of a boat, simple yet perfect.

“If you put them by the gutter, the force will push them sailing across the yard,” his brother had said; he remembers the inflection so clearly, strange because it is from a time when Itachi was young enough to have the voice of a child, so unlike the rich timbre he’d held later in life.

He had trailed after his brother to the gutter, and sure enough, the paper boat was propelled by the rain streaming down from the roof; it took off as soon as Itachi let go. Sasuke had stomped after it with approximately zero grace, mud coating him up to his ankles, until it reached the boundary fence, saturated through and less buoyant due to the barrage of droplets dampening it from above.

The absolute joy he felt, when he had sprinted back to tug on his brother’s sleeve to ask if he would show him how to make one, and he’d agreed. They’d returned to the pile of paper guarded from the elements by their mother, and Itachi showed him each step, creating another one alongside him as an example. His small hands were not very coordinated back then; his boat hadn’t turned out as nice, all wrinkled sloppiness instead of crisp, clean folds.

“You just need more practice,” Itachi had murmured. “My first one was messy, too. I’ll help you.”

Larger hands had closed around his, creating skillful creases and shaping with dexterity. The second boat turned out much better. Sasuke had given his first one to his mother, then, so she could race, too. Remembering the smile, the genuine look of motherly gratitude she’d given him, bruises something in his soul, precipitation on frail roots entombed deep; it reminds him of the struggle of swallowing a gulp of water after traipsing through the desert, dry mouth making it almost painful, a gargantuan effort that takes everything in him not to look away.

She’d followed them from the porch over to the corner eaves, staying under the cover to avoid getting drenched, and the three of them had released their creations. Sasuke thinks they had to have given him a small headstart, surrendering theirs just after his, so his boat would make it to the other end of the yard first. He’d run after it, Itachi meandering along behind him at a slower pace, while their mother stayed beneath the awning.

His brother had smiled at him as he jumped puddle to puddle in glee. They’d grabbed the now-soaked paper boats at the conclusion of their path, and brought them up to the porch to set in a pile. Then they constructed and raced more, a veritable treasure of a late morning. For his last of the day, Sasuke had tried folding one on his own again, and it turned out better than his first attempt. Though a little lopsided, it hadn’t capsized, sailing strong in the current unaided just like Itachi’s.

Their mother had made them shower and then drawn them a hot bath after, to ensure they were clean and warmed. She had parted his toes to get the mud stuck there out, soil spiraling and dissolving down the drain as he watched. He’d splashed Itachi in the bath after, and folded one more boat with a piece of paper his mother brought him, so he could see how much time it took for it to sink without getting flooded from above, an experiment in buoyancy.

She made miso soup with rice for a late lunch, with something from their aunt and uncle’s shop as a treat after, some variety of warmed pastry. Itachi had let him try his in addition to his own; Sasuke’s had been strawberry, but Itachi’s tasted of peach, gooey sweetness to top off a perfect day that wasn’t even over yet. Their mother must have made herself some tea, too; he remembers the aroma of jasmine filling the space, warmed by lamplight cast on dark wood. When she’d told Sasuke it was time for a nap, he’d become extremely sullen, because he didn’t want to sleep; he’d wanted to spend more time with his brother. It wasn’t often he was home for a full day, prodigy that he was by then and always on missions.

Itachi had surprised him. “I’ll take a nap, too. It's important to rest sometimes. You can join me, Sasuke.” His refusal morphed instantaneously to greedy acceptance. Sasuke crawled into bed with his brother in his room, huddled in the comforter for warmth as the deluge continued for hours, the dousing on their roof and peaceful breathing composing a conciliating symphony with which to lull him to sleep. Eventually he'd succumbed, tuckered out and content, though he'd tried to stay awake as long as he could so he didn't miss out on time with Itachi.

Ten year olds don't usually take naps. His brother may have feigned sleep just to get him to do as their mother wanted. That realization is trenchant, too, sharp like a blade, because it’s a cycle that would repeat itself until Itachi’s end, Sasuke never understanding until the moment had passed, always a step behind and looking backward instead of forward.

When he’d awakened later in the evening, he’d smelled food cooking, miyabi soup and some kind of grilled fish. Itachi hadn’t been beside him anymore, but after blinking groggily, his brother had appeared like an apparition in the door frame.

“Dinner’s almost ready, Sasuke.”

Drizzle is still pummeling his apartment building when he rouses in a dark bedroom, alone. No one appears in the door frame this time as he blinks unsteadily, throat choked before the silent tears come, because this memory aches, haunting his heart like some kind of drowned spectre, dripping muddy stains onto clean floors. Sasuke moves to wipe them away with his left hand, the one Itachi used to help him up from the mire, until he remembers that he doesn’t have a left hand anymore. Making a paper boat now would take twice as long.

Everything in him hurts, marcid marrow writhing in his bones as if they are dead roots that have gotten a drink after a decade spent in drought, someone trying to nurse something deceased or rotting back to life. He goes to the memorial stone under the tenebrose cover of two in the morning, but it doesn’t feel like his brother is there. All he has of him are the eyes drowning in his sockets and excruciating retrospection, intermixing with the rain soaking him outwardly.

I miss you, he thinks as he tries not to asphyxiate on the memory, hoping that his mother at least hears his thoughts here, echoed in the ponds collecting around the stone that bears her name. He has to leave eventually, because he starts picturing white lilies emerging from miniature lakes, full of life and swaying with wind and torrent, instead of cold and motionless grey granite, and he thinks he is going to start sobbing.

Sasuke returns to his apartment after the better part of an hour and stares out his living room window, nursing a miniscule cup of sencha tea, weak so as not to unsettle him too much. The weather lets up eventually, turning from a drench to a drip between the fine branches of the cherry blossom tree across the street. The puddles slowly begin to sink in, though there are remnants of dirt collected in the grooves of the pathways due to the overflow. The tree is starting to lose its petals; they float atop the collected areas of water, a hint of hope buoyant atop sorrow like a paper boat.

He isn't at all hungry, but Sakura said he should try to gain weight, so he forces down a very early breakfast of plain rice, tasteless, before he goes to rifle through the box in the closet. He averts his eyes as he lifts the lid, fumbling to turn the photo upside down without looking at it and moving it to the bottom of the container before sifting through Sakura’s letters.

He picks a favorite of his, one she wrote to him while he was passing through the Land of Savanna, the first autumn season of his journey.

Sasuke-kun,

I was so happy to see your hawk on the horizon today. I gave him some water since he had a long journey.

The way you described the grasslands changing color in Savanna was lovely. The trees are changing here, too, shedding all of their leaves and making the roads a sea of color. Naruto slipped on a scarlet one the other day coming out of Ichiraku’s. He almost dragged Hinata with him, but thankfully no one was hurt. That's providence, I suppose, though it's not a red thread.

Soon it will be the season for chestnut-flavored everything. Stout squirrels come next, and Tsukimi will be happening, too. I've only ever seen it here in Konoha and once in Sand, while we were on a mission. You'll have to tell me if the moon looks any different where you are. Don't forget to make a wish.

The air is turning crisp here, like the leaves, so I imagine it will be there, too. Please stay warm.

I miss you.

-Sakura

Sasuke comes to the realization then that he’s sitting in damp clothes, and that he is kind of cold; he hadn't thought to grab his cloak earlier, too overcome with mourning. He carefully puts the letter back, and makes the decision to take a hot shower. The heat makes him feel incrementally better, thawing him from the inside out. It also makes him realize his mouth feels dry; he’s probably dehydrated, and needs to drink more than a weakly brewed half glass of tea. He prepares another cup, stronger this time.

A mission summons arrives around nine. He uses the mirror of his bathroom to make sure he doesn't look too disheveled - the shower helped, he thinks, though he’s slightly pallid - before heading to the Hokage’s office.

He's the first one of those requested to arrive, though not by much. Naruto is sitting in his designated chair with the scroll again, looking for all intents and purposes like he just woke up.

"Teme?! Eh, really?!" The dobe turns in his chair to glare metaphorical daggers at Kakashi, who pointedly ignores him. "You're seriously not sending me with?! Bogus."

Kakashi simply inclines his head towards him, not even sparing Naruto a glance. "Sasuke. Good morning. Ready for a mission?"

He nods mutely, wondering what it could be. Naruto whines some more, but Sasuke tunes him out. There's nothing like his teammate’s complaining that grinds on him in the morning, though he’ll inwardly admit it is helping to coax him back into some sense of normalcy.

His replacement walks through the Hokage’s door next, impassive as always. He inclines his head politely at Sasuke, so he returns the gesture. Naruto heaves a sigh. "Oh, come on!"

Sai doesn't miss a beat, turning to Kakashi, absolutely devoid of any kind of emotion as he delivers Sasuke’s favorite invective. "Is Dickless not coming?"

Sasuke barely manages to suppress a snort as Naruto guffaws, launching an entire container of pens at Sai. "STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Not all of Sai's nicknames are poorly chosen. He loathes the one he has for Sakura, but Sasuke doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing Naruto’s. It improves his mood measurably.

Shikamaru Nara saunters through the doors last, looking extremely apathetic already. Shrewd eyes flick to Sasuke’s momentarily, too quickly for him to read anything from them, then to Sai��s, then to the pens Naruto is picking off the floor, before settling on Kakashi.

Interesting. So it’s the escort mission, after all.

Naruto is outright mad now, glowering but past the point of saying anything as he returns to his seat in silence. It seems he at least knows when to give up, these days.

"Now that I have you all here, I'm afraid I must break the news that this won't be a terribly exciting mission. Simple escort to Sand for our diplomat tomorrow. It may be a bit… overkill, but there will only be three of you on the return trip, and my newest batch of missions didn't have anything terribly exciting in it. It's better to complete something useful with enough time to get back in case we need you for bigger tickets next week; it can't be helped." Kakashi shrugs, before adding, "Sending Sai should shorten the trip and make it less taxing, at least, flying birds and all. Shikamaru will lead, like usual."

Kakashi goes on to disclose that they'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow. Apparently it's only a four day round trip with his replacement's jutsu involved; this means they’ll leave on Tuesday morning and be back on Friday evening, should nothing go awry. It’s not likely that it will; Suna and Konoha are strong allies at this point.

“Any questions?” Kakashi asks at the end of the briefing. Neither Shikamaru nor Sai say anything; he doesn’t, either. An escort is simple enough, especially one of a fellow Shinobi.

His old sensei smiles in a way Sasuke feels is directed mostly at Shikamaru. “Alright, then. Dismissed.”

Nara strolls lackadaisically out of the office as Sai follows. Sasuke gets the inkling that this will be a rather silent journey, between the three of them. He’s a bit thankful he hasn’t been assigned a mission with more talkative comrades, at least not for his first one back.

“Teme!” Naruto pipes up as he turns to leave as well, so Sasuke lingers. “Wanna spar this evening?”

His brows knit together while Kakashi looks between them, as if amused. Sakura has not invited him over for the evening, but he thinks of soft words yesterday anyway.

I missed you, when you were gone. You… can fill as much of my free time as you’d like.

“The day before a mission? You’re stupid. Pass.” Sasuke says, both because he’s hoping to spend the twilight hours with her, too, but also because he knows it will annoy the hell out of Naruto. They really shouldn't go all out the night before one of them leaves for a mission anyways; if one of them breaks something, Sakura will be stuck fixing it, and it’s supposed to be her day off.

Naruto looks miffed, a lone blond brow twitching, so he adds, “...Saturday, early morning. If you’re even awake. Dobe. ”

Before he turns away from Naruto’s spluttering, he catches an all too knowing gleam in Kakashi’s visible eye. Sasuke is suddenly sure that their old sensei is well-acquainted with Sakura’s work schedule. He can feel the hole being burned into the back of his head by blue eyes and a single dark one as he leaves the Hokage’s office, the dobe still struggling to come up with a response to his quick refusal.

He feels marginally better as he walks leisurely back to his apartment, noting along the way that more of the puddles are already beginning to dry up.

Sasuke fixes something more substantial for lunch, since he knows Sakura will eat with Ino; a chicken curry, fragrant with garlic and ginger and carrots, poured atop rice. He doesn’t have any potatoes, so he substitutes with other produce, a unique mix for curry; bell peppers, green onions, and burdock roots. It’s not bad, but maybe he’ll pick up some potatoes when he gets back from Sand.

He is looking forward to going on a mission again, he realizes as he eats. It’s probably going to be a rather routine one - it’s not likely that they’ll face any enemies in friendly territory - but it will be good to be amongst allies again, contributing to fulfilling a purpose, however slight. Sasuke thinks maybe he should make more of an effort to interact with Sai. It appears as though he and Sakura are close, if he’s been to her apartment; Ino was there, too, he supposes, but still.

Sasuke spends the remainder of his time doing the dishes and making sure everything in his fridge is wrapped well, to ensure it doesn’t spoil in the time that he’s gone.

XXX

Sakura’s hair is damp, pink more saturated than it normally is, when he meets her on her doorstep; she must have showered. The scent of mixed berries is renewed, and suddenly he is certain that it has to be some kind of soap, perhaps a body wash. She has her single fiction book in hand.

“Hi,” she says, grinning up at him with a disarming beauty that makes his heart skip. Her hair clings to her neck when she locks her door behind her; Sasuke focuses on a ranunculus bloom instead, noticing that there are two small cuttings of the flowers missing, taken from its rear portion, until she turns back around.

“...Hi.”

“How was your morning?” She questions kindly as they make their way down the stairs and out the glass door, spring sunshine filtering in.

He blinks once as he considers how to answer. “...Fine. I had a mission briefing.”

Sakura’s lips quirk upwards. “Anything exciting?”

He exhales through his nose, a shadow of a laugh. “No. Just an escort.”

Jade eyes twinkle. “Ah, I’m guessing… Sai and Shikamaru.”

“...Kakashi might listen to your squad suggestions more than Naruto’s.”

She chuckles a little. “No, it’s just that he usually sends them for that. You must have replaced Naruto; he’s the third squad cell member, most of the time. Sai’s jutsu makes it a quicker journey, especially with Temari’s fan techniques; she can create updrafts.”

Sasuke thinks he vaguely remembers a blonde woman who is Gaara’s sister; that must be the diplomat. The sibling of the Kazekage would be well-suited for such a job.

“...Maybe I’ll find out what’s in Sand.”

She smiles while biting her lip. She’s very pretty.

“Maybe,” she finally offers cryptically.

They weave through the road on their way to the library, taking care to avoid the water still lingering; it has sunken into the earth for the most part by now.

Sasuke checks out three books this time. One is another on historical samurai, this one with more illustrations as he’d wanted. The second is a historical account of the establishment of Nunogakure, in the Land of Silk. He had passed through the country twice, and had always been interested in learning more about its history, given the establishment of its hidden village by kunoichi and their record of hostility with the ruling daimyos. The third is a fiction book about an old man at sea, suggested to him by Ichika as she scans Sakura’s books, then his.

“It’s kind of proverbial, and not terribly lengthy. You seem like the type who would like it,” the librarian offers, so he adds it to his pile. It’s not quite an old lady giving him vaguely prophesying teacups, but it sounds interesting enough. He appreciates her kindness; not everyone in Konoha gives him this particular brand of easy acceptance after the debacle that was his past. Sasuke thinks perhaps showing up with Sakura helps. Ichika looks at his empty sleeve for a long moment this time; she must not have noticed the last time he was here, the unfilled end of it hidden by the counter.

Sakura says there’s a spot towards the slope of Hokage Rock that drains off the cliff, a hill that should be dry enough to sit on, so they meander upwards. It’s on the western side, just at the juncture where the grass begins to give way to harsher stone. A wild cherry blossom tree that he spotted from a half mile away is clinging to the precipice, a bit off the beaten path. It must have sturdy roots, he thinks, reaching deep into the dirt and bedrock to give it the strength to soar upwards even here on uneven ground.

As they near it, he observes that it’s losing its petals, too, late in blooming like the one across the street from his apartment; small green buds are starting to take the flowers’ place.

They read for a bit under its branches, sprawled out on the hillside. She was right; the ground is dry here, already soaked into the soil or run off the slope. It’s not too warm or cool out, an enjoyable spring day where everything is freshly watered. The book Ichika recommended is pretty good, full of oceanic metaphors, some of which he finds unnervingly relevant. Sakura might like it; it’s written somewhat artfully. He gets about a third of the way through its pages as the sun begins to hang lower in the sky.

It’s around four when he allows his focus to wander away from his book to her. He's been leaning up against the tree, in the only spot someone could; the rest of the area by the trunk is too asperous to sit comfortably, roots twisting ruggedly, but strong. Much stronger than white lilies, hardy enough to weather even the harshest storms. Sakura is on her back a few feet away, book open above her and pink hair settled in a halo on the grass. She looks extremely comfortable, as if lying like this in the small amount of shade offered is something she does all the time. Maybe this is a place she visits often.

Her book is titled Hazel Wood; he can tell by the cover it must be fiction, but he's not sure what exactly it's about. He's thinking maybe he’ll ask her later. He's also thinking maybe he should ask if she wants to do something after this; he would like to, if she's free.

She shifts slightly, and he slides his eyes to the skyline so he doesn't get caught staring, very suddenly becoming conscious of the fact that he’s been admiring her for the better part of a few minutes. When he looks back over warily, she is picking up a stray petal and situating it between the pages, sticking out like a bookmark to mark her place. Then she regards him, smiling like she's amused.

He arches a brow, unsure what could be funny, but she's setting her closed book neatly aside and pushing afoot to close the distance between them. He tilts his head up towards her as she walks to the tree trunk, and then she's reaching out. Two fingertips skim his scalp, and then she's handing him a cherry blossom petal that evidently had been caught there.

"A bookmark, if you want one," she offers, her expression saying she is incredibly entertained.

He blinks once before taking it, lone hand brushing hers for a millisecond. He's distracted by how soft her fingertips feel again.

"...Thank you." He puts the petal in his book to mark his spot as she straightens.

Now would be an opportune time to query her evening plans, but she beats him to it. "Would you want to stop by the market quick with me and then come over for dinner?" Comely green melts into charcoal when he looks up. "I was thinking of making teriyaki atsuage and cucumber salad, but I'm out of cucumber."

His agreement is immediate, insides twisting pleasantly.

As they head down the hill together to beat the evening rush, books in hand, a single crow passes overhead, swooping low towards the center of the village extending before them.

That’s providence, he thinks, though it’s not a red thread. He stares at it like he’s seen a ghost until it disappears.

He helps her cook this time. Sakura handles the cutting and chopping while Sasuke seasons and turns the tofu as it fries in one of her pans, mixing together mirin and soy sauce to create the teriyaki dressing while she slices cucumbers and tosses them with other ingredients; she loads the salad with peanuts, sauces, garlic, and red chile flakes.

It’s another gratifying evening together. They play three rounds of chess this time, and it’s just as challenging as go; she cycles through positions intuitively, sometimes with seemingly little thought involved. Sasuke thinks she might be analyzing her next moves in her head during his turns, having a few planned out and simply narrowing it down based on whether he moves a rook or a pawn. He comes close to winning the final match, at least. With more practice, he might win once in a while.

Sakura offers to make tea again, after. He accompanies her to the kitchen, and when she opens the cupboard, his throat closes, because two new jars of loose leaf sencha from the tea shop have mysteriously appeared, one for the caffeinated shelf and one for the decaffeinated shelf.

Sakura’s expression is tentative. “I thought maybe sencha this evening. I… picked some up on my way back from lunch, earlier today.”

He nods weakly, tongue-tied and endlessly grateful.

She makes some for the both of them, finishing off her own with sugar and honey. Sasuke watches her swirl the spoon in the now fading luster of her kitchen, thinking the way she takes her tea is like her very being, so sweet.

Verdant eyes peek up at him when she walks him to her entryway, hours later. He sincerely hopes that she’s enjoying spending time with him as much as he is with her.

Then, Sakura’s voice lilts up to him, a quiet murmur, "Will you… come see me, when you get back?"

He blinks, sugar and honey pouring into him now, because it’s almost an answer to the question in his head that he hadn’t vocalized. Then his brow furrows, because maybe he’s failed at conveying that he'll spend literally any amount of time with her that she allows him. Sasuke knows his communication skills aren’t the best, and he has never been in any sort of romantic relationship, so everything is new territory, stunted by his lack of practice.

Her gaze flits away from him. "Just… so I know you're okay."

Oh. She means coming to see her right after debriefing, so she'll know he's returned safe. Something pleasant pools in his belly, sinking to the extremities in a way that feels nurturing. He realizes he is taking too much time to respond; she looks nervous.

"I will."

Jade centers back on him, reassured now, and he's not sure how he's going to go four days without it, this limitless green that soothes him to no end.

"Oh. Good. Thank you." Her expression changes to one that is considerably more relaxed, a tender look directed upwards that he has never seen her wear for anyone else.

Sasuke presses his lips to hers for a long time before he departs, a soft goodbye he’s hoping will convey all the words that are caught in his throat, gratitude and affection that have been stewing there since they were thirteen.

He thinks he feels love press back from hers, a delicate flickering that makes him ache, and perhaps providence. Sugar and honey, too. Sweetness doesn’t hurt him like the recall of pastries does, when it’s experienced secondhand like this.

XXX

The mission goes smoothly. Sai's jutsu does speed things up considerably, and the Sand delegate, Temari, uses her giant fan to give them a boost in places that are lacking in higher gales. He rides with Sai on the way there, while Shikamaru and Temari drift on the other; Sasuke thinks the separation must be so she can use the jutsu, strategically getting behind his replacement's bird to give him a boost before Sai can control it and have theirs catch the subsequent updraft, too.

Sasuke and Shikamaru fulfill lookout roles, him scanning ahead and Shikamaru scanning behind. It is refreshing to see the land from above, giving way from forests to grasslands to the beginnings of desert edges. He finds himself thinking about what his hawk saw, all of the times he brought correspondence to and from Sakura. It’s not as hot this way, traveling through the air with breeze ripping around them, though they make an effort to stay hydrated, still.

Sai is quiet, but Sasuke is, too, so he can't knock him for it. He wonders, scanning the horizon for the upteenth time, if Sai knows what's in Sand that interests their squad leader. He would have to, dating Ino, but he doesn't feel comfortable asking him something like that.

They spend most of the first day in relative silence, only spying a single squad of comrade ninja from Suna traveling hundreds of feet below them, just leaving the desert. Towards the end of it, as they finally cross into the first area that is truly all sand as far as the eye can see, Sai surprises him by speaking.

"Beautiful says Ugly is stupid happy that you've returned. I am certain that Dickless is, too."

The effect the words have on him is a little jarring and complex. There is the immediate familiar disdain for Sai’s inaccurate nickname for Sakura, intermixed with immature amusement at Naruto's epithet. A feeling of brotherhood follows, and his heart blooming with something tender, vines twisting or perhaps not-so-dead roots getting another drink. Stupid happy doesn’t sound like a phrase common to Sai’s vernacular, leading him to believe it was Ino’s exact wording, likely after spending the morning with Sakura yesterday.

He thinks it over as they soar over the last bit of terrain for the day, sorting through the different emotions. His answer isn't hesitant; it just takes preparation for him to muster the gall to vocalize it to someone he's not terribly close to.

"...I am, too." It’s an understatement.

XXX

They arrive back in Konoha on Friday evening, as scheduled. No issues, just more lookout duty and enjoyable wind offering relief from the heat. Peacetime is nice; anyone they saw to or from Sand was an ally, no foes. They only utilize one of Sai’s creations on the return trip, Shikamaru still observing the rear but this time atop the same bird as them. It’s a slightly longer trip, without the diplomat to speed things up, but they still make good time.

It's a bit after six when they leave Kakashi’s office, mission report paperwork folded neatly into his satchel. Naruto wasn't there; Sasuke assumes he's either been sent on a mission or has gone home for the day already. He supposes he’ll find out tomorrow, if a banging erupts on his apartment door after sunrise. It must have stormed again recently; the soil is damp, and everything is faintly greener than it was before.

He finds he missed it, the smell just after it rains that was decidedly not present in Suna, even if it does bring hard memories.

“Good work,” Shikamaru says simply to both of them as they step outside, ready to go their respective ways. It’s not necessary for him to say it, but Sasuke appreciates the acknowledgement. He’s aware it is probably not easy to trust him, after everything. Not everyone has the same confidence in him as Team Seven does.

Sai nods towards Shikamaru, then turns to him.

"Tell Ugly I say hi." His tone sounds almost kind as he turns to part ways from them in the street. Shikamaru glances at Sasuke for an instant, expression not containing an ounce of surprise, but he doesn't say anything as he turns to head the other way.

Tentatively, Sasuke starts out in the direction of Sakura’s apartment. She should be home right now, if she didn’t stay late at the hospital. He wonders as he gets closer if maybe he should wait a bit; she might be in the middle of cooking, or eating dinner.

He wants to see her, though. He's missed her greatly, and she did say to come by; he tries very hard to swallow his doubts.

Soon he's knocking on a sage green door that is beginning to look familiar. The plants are still damp indoors, too; maybe it rained as recently as this morning. It has to have been overcast for a good portion of the day, for the sunlight through the diamond window to not have dried the moisture from her watering them just yet.

Sakura opens the door wearing a smile; it grows wider upon seeing it's him, like she can’t help it.

His heart skips a beat when she says his name. "Sasuke-kun."

"Sakura."

She steps aside while holding the door open, a silent invitation for him to come in, so he does. He stands in her entryway uncertainly for a second, until she offers, "I'm making tenmusu; there's enough for two. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Everything in him relaxes, any and all ambiguity dried by her kindness in an instant. "...I would. Thank you."

Little flecks of gold shimmer in the lamplight, facets atop something burgeoning with warmth. There is love there, in her eyes and upturned lips. He wonders if she can see it in his, if she has any idea of the true gravity of his feelings for her, all of the things that flare to life in his belly at the mere thought of time spent here.

It’s a break in routine, but there is something he would really like to do, something he has been working up the courage for over the past few days, so he takes the risk, pulse quickening; he hasn't kissed her anything but farewell yet, really, aside from their first, which was somewhere in the middle.

It is better than he imagined, vespertine devotion saying hello rather than goodbye. He skims the freckle on her cheek again as his lips brush hers, hand tender against her skin and silky pink locks. When she leans into his touch, he finds himself wishing there was a way for his soul to graze hers, to tell her the utterly selfish thing he wished for after her letter so many moons ago. Sakura’s soul would be warm to the touch, he thinks, like freshly-brewed tea or the flux of a summer monsoon, but much more illimitable, and endlessly ardent.

Her hands on his shoulders are becoming a familiar weight, grounding him like the roots of her namesake.

When they part, she blinks up at him once, and then suddenly her arms are wrapping around his center instead of his shoulders, pulling him close. His heart swells, and he hooks his lone arm around her waist.

She smells like home, he realizes. "...Tadaima," he murmurs against her hair.

"Okaeri," she responds, soft and sweet against his chest.