#he should’ve been put in lock up to sober up

[louisisalarrie]

no one fucking helped him and that keeps just repeating in my head

[crossingthedreams]

shaking — javier peña x f!reader

a/n: this is day 13 — shaking, of @angstober, and i’m late with day 12, too, hehe. i wish i was better at time management, lol. anyway, as always, feel free to dm me and let me know what you think! 

masterlist

word count: 670

warnings: angst, descriptions of anxiety, unspecified mental illness, separation/break-up, established relationship.

TRIGGER WARNING: anxiety, mental illness. proceed with care.

You woke up shaking once more. 

The nightmares were very common, and it was usual for you to wake up drenched in sweat, shaking to the bone. 

On nights like these, which were most nights, you reached out to the other side of your bed and your heart would ache less and go slowly back to its normal pace when you found Javier there. 

Your man was a light sleeper, so most times he would hold you before you were even awake yet. Other times, when you didn’t scream yourself and him awake, and woke up quietly, but terrified, you would wake him up, reluctantly. He told you a million times it was okay to wake him, that he was there for you. Somehow, after a while, you found yourself believing that. 

Tonight, things were different. Tonight, Javier wasn’t there and being alone in that house made everything worse. 

You practically crawled out of bed, vision blurry, and found your way to the bathroom. No lights, you couldn’t handle any lights right now.

Where was he? Why would he say he’d be there if he wasn’t? Why was it that you always found a way to push him away until he couldn’t handle you? The questions, most of which you would have forgotten about in the morning, kept pounding in your brain.

Where was he? 

You were on your knees close to the toilet. The coolness of the toilet began to calm you down, as disgusting as that sounds. You embraced it, head leaning on the seat. The vomit came easily, but it didn’t make you feel any better.

Crying whilst throwing up was a herculean task. 

At least you had it in you to remove your hair from your face before.

Your body slowly began to calm itself down. The street lights coming in through the bathroom window, the coolness of the floor and the toilet, the fact that you didn’t have any more tears to cry — it all made you slow down, and eventually, sleep found you, still on the floor. 

Hours later, Javier Peña was drunkenly making his way into his house. A buddy was retiring, and the small going away party became a full blow out night. 

Javier called your name when he walked in, half expecting you to still be awake waiting for him. “Cariño?”, he called, walking into your shared room. 

His heart stopped and his entire body froze when he realized you weren’t there. He sobered up in record speed, looking for his gun in belt. It wasn’t a good idea to let an inebriated agent with a gun, but there he was. 

He tiptoed into the bathroom, gun in hand still, using his body to open the door. 

The sight of you, curled up in a ball on the floor, broke his heart. He put the gun away and kneeled in front of you.

Javier thought that he should’ve known better, should’ve been there. But there was a part of him that resented you very deeply. He couldn’t even have one night? Why can’t she be more independent? Is this how your relationship would play out forever? His mind was racing, and the alcohol was no ally of his right now. 

He sat down next to you, moving his hand to take a lock of hair from your face but stopping at the very last second. He didn’t want to wake you, so he just laid there, which was barely possible due to the small size of the bathroom.

On the cold floor, the two of you slept until morning. 

When the light of a new day woke Javier up, you were still asleep, but somehow closer to him. Most questions from the night before had disappeared from his brain. All but one, in fact. Why can’t she be more independent?, Javier thought. 

He didn’t want to leave. He loved you. Yet, somehow, that didn’t seem like it was enough anymore. 

[atths--twice]

Surprising Discoveries

Stopping by Mulder’s apartment unannounced, Scully is in for quite a surprise.

This is the second story I wrote for the MSR Fanzine. A bit of humor and fluff. Hope you enjoy.

May 1999

Scully turned her head and listened, frowning as she heard the muffled sounds of the television through Mulder’s door. She tried knocking again, but there was still no answer. 

“Well,” she said under her breath, taking out her phone and calling him, waiting for him to pick up. 

She could hear it ringing on the other side of the door, but he did not answer it. Sighing, she disconnected the call and put it back into her pocket. Pulling out her keys, she placed his into the lock and opened the door. 

Closing the door softly behind her, she put her keys back into her pocket and walked into the dimly lit apartment. His phone was on the table and the television was playing an old movie, but Mulder was nowhere to be seen. 

Glancing at his half closed bedroom door, she wondered if she should enter, or leave and never tell him she had stopped by. 

What if he was not alone? What if… 

She licked her lips, let out a deep breath, and knocked on his bedroom door. 

“Mulder?” she called, but heard nothing in reply. 

Pushing the door open, she stepped into his nearly equally dim bedroom and frowned, still not seeing him. 

A noise from his bathroom gave her pause, but then she stepped forward, sure she would finally find him in there. 

“Mulder?” she asked, rapping gently on the closed door. 

“Sc… Scully?” he asked, as she heard something hit the floor. 

“Yeah, it’s me. I tried knocking and then calling you, but you didn’t answer,” she explained, now feeling almost silly for stopping by unannounced. 

“Yeah, I uh… uh…” 

“I should’ve called first,” she said, shaking her head. “I was leaving my mom’s after having dinner there and thought I’d stop by. But, I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“No!” he called out, as something dropped again and he swore. “I’m glad you’re here, I was just…” He sighed loudly and she frowned, wondering what was going on in there. 

“Mulder, it’s fine. You continue what you’re doing. It wasn’t anything important. I’ll let you get back to it.” 

She took one step back and he opened the door at the same time. When she looked at him, her eyes widened in surprise. 

“Ohhhh,” she breathed, laughter being choked down as she stared at him, fighting back a smile even as she felt it stretching across her face. 

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled and the laughter she tried to contain came bubbling out, bending her forward, as he crossed his arms and sighed deeply. 

“Mulder,” she laughed, shaking her head as she looked at him again, taking in the green clay mask on his face, thicker in some spots and thinner in others. Thin streaks of it were even in his hair. “What are you doing, Mulder?” 

“I…” he said with a sigh. 

“Have you… have you…” She laughed and then tried to sober up, still snickering softly. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.” 

“No, you shouldn’t,” he said, attempting to look angry, but with the clay mask covering his face so unevenly, it did not come across that way. 

“Mulder,” she said, laughing as she shook her head again. “What? How long have you been doing this?” 

“Well, in case you couldn’t tell,” he said, turning around and walking back into the bathroom, looking into the mirror as she followed him, smiling at his reflection. “I’ve never done this before. I think I did it wrong.” 

“It’s just…” she said, stepping closer to him and tilting her head, pointing to the left side of his face. “It needs to be a little thicker on that side. You’ve also got it in your hair. A headband would help that from happening.” 

“Oh right. I should have used that headband I have lying around,” he said sarcastically, looking at her as she smiled. 

“I think I have an extra one if you’d like to borrow it. For next time,” she offered and he shook his head. 

“I think this may be the only time. I don’t know if it’s for me.” 

“Come on,” she said, picking up the container and opening it. Taking a sniff of the familiar scent, she smiled and handed it to him. “Put it on the rest of the way and let it sit the full twenty minutes. Then decide if you don’t want to do it again.” 

“Fair enough, I suppose,” he said, dipping his fingers into the container and scooping up more of the clay, applying it to his face as he followed her directions of where to put more, even taking her suggestion to add it halfway down his neck. 

“There. How does that feel?” she asked when he was done and he washed his hands as she closed the container. 

“Hmm, it’s starting to feel slightly… tingly?” 

“Yeah. That’ll be from the mint. It’ll start feeling tighter as it dries and then you can wash it off.” 

He stared in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side and then back as he looked at his neck. Cutting his eyes to her, she smiled at him and nodded. 

“You’ll like it.” 

“Hmm.” 

“How about some tea while you wait? Or a beer?” she asked with a laugh when he made a face. 

“I think I have some in the fridge.” 

“I’m almost certain that’s all you have,” she teased. 

“Nah, I’ve also got some leftover Chinese from the other night.” 

They went into the kitchen and he took out containers of food and two beers while she grabbed utensils, plates, and napkins. At the table, he sat down and she smiled behind her hand as she watched him filling his plate, his face and half his neck covered in the clay mask. 

Stabbing an egg roll with a fork, he ate it carefully, chewing slowly. 

“So,” she said, taking an egg roll for herself. “What made you decide to do this?” She waved to his face with the egg roll, crossing her legs as she sat forward in her chair and took a bite and began to chew. 

“Well,” he said, setting his egg roll down and wiping his hands on his napkin. “I needed some shaving cream and as I was walking down one of the aisles, the sight of the container caught my eye. I stopped and picked it up, reading what it did exactly and well…” He shrugged and then frowned slightly. “Oh, I feel it tightening a little.” 

“Hmm,” she said, setting her egg roll on a napkin and reaching for the container of chow mein, eating a forkful of the cold noodles right from the carton. 

“It’s a really odd feeling,” he said, touching his face gently. “It’s drying in some spots and still a little damp in others.” Tilting his head back, he touched his neck and hummed. 

“Don’t touch it so much,” she said, laughing softly as she pulled his hand away from his neck. “Just let it dry.” 

“How often do you do this?” 

“Uh, once a month usually. Two times, if I feel like it.” 

He moved his mouth from side to side and raised his eyebrows up and down which caused her to laugh, his expression quite comical. 

“I really wasn’t sure why you weren’t answering my many attempts to reach you, but I admit, this never crossed my mind.” 

“Always gotta keep you on your toes, Scully,” he said, taking another bite of egg roll and smiling, the skin on his face stretching to accommodate the movement. 

“That you do, Mulder. That you do,” she said, laughing as she stared at him and he winked. 

_______________

March 2003

A late winter storm blew in, forcing them to extend their stay in a cabin they had planned to leave after their prepaid two weeks. They had food, firewood, and some bottles of wine to tide them over, so they did not view the storm as a hindrance. 

When the power went out and the generator kicked on, the lights dimming somewhat, they decided to turn off the movie they had been watching to conserve power. Mulder stood up to search for some candles while she stirred the fire and added another couple of logs to it. 

“So,” Mulder said, walking back into the room with his arms full of candles in varying shapes and sizes. “I have an idea of what we can do to pass the evening now that the movie is off the table.” 

“Really?” she asked, an eyebrow raised as she looked at him. “The whole evening?” 

“Not that,” he laughed, reaching for the matches and handing them to her. “I mean, unless…” He raised his eyebrows, jerking his head toward the bedroom. 

“Hmm, maybe later,” she said, smiling as she started lighting the candles. 

“Then I’ll be right back,” he said and she watched him walk to the bedroom, wondering what he had in mind. 

He was back quickly with his hands behind his back, a happy smile on his face. 

“Pick a hand,” he said, coming closer to her. She smiled and pointed to his left hand. Pulling it from behind his back, he presented her with the container of her clay face mask. 

“What?” she asked with a laugh. “What else have you got hidden back there?” 

Showing her his other hand, he held the three bottles of nail polish from her makeup bag, along with her stretchy headband, which was hanging from his wrist. 

“Face masks and pedicures?” she asked, looking from one hand to the other. “That’s what you want to do?” 

“Or we could…” He gestured to the bedroom again and she laughed, shaking her head. 

“If I can paint your toes, then I’m in.” 

“I choose the red one,” he said, setting everything onto the table, except the bottle of red nail polish that he began to shake as she laughed. 

Pouring them each a glass of wine, she sat down as she pulled her hair back and put her headband on, looking up at him expectantly. He grinned and picked up the container, removed the lid and scooped out some of the clay. He rubbed it in his hands and then began to apply it to her face, massaging as he did.  

“That feels really good,” she said, closing her eyes and tilting her head back further. 

“Good,” he said, rubbing the clay across her chin and down her throat. “And if at any time this becomes too erotic for you and you do want to head to the bedroom, I have no doubt that this can be washed off quite quickly.” 

She scoffed as she opened her eyes, smiling and then rolled her eyes at him.  

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” 

“Good,” he said again as he kissed her softly and she closed her eyes, concentrating on the relaxing feel of the mask being applied, even as her heart beat faster. 

His mask application took longer as he stopped her many times for a kiss, some lasting longer than the others, his hands at her waist and traveling down further before she stepped out of his reach and he groaned in protest.

“You think you can make it?” she teased and he hummed as he shook his head. 

“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted and she laughed quietly as she stepped close to him again and rubbed the clay onto his forehead. 

They sat on the couch, his feet resting in her lap, and she smiled as she covered his previously bare toenails with red polish. Blowing on them, she heard his sharp intake of breath and looked up at him. 

“No,” he said firmly and she chuckled with a nod of understanding. 

Switching positions, she placed her feet in his lap. He painted her toenails a light blue and she smiled at the focused attention he put into it, making sure it was done well. He looked up at her when he was finished and he smiled. 

“Oh, I forgot about the mask,” he said, touching his cheek. “It’s already nearly dry.” 

“Well, you can wash it off soon. Unless you want to wait until our polish has dried and we could wash it off in the shower.” 

“The shower? To wash off a face mask?” he asked with a frown. 

“Yeah,” she said, raising her eyebrows. 

“Oh. You meant… together,” he said, raising his own eyebrows. 

“That is what I had in mind, yes.” 

“After the polish has dried,” he reiterated. 

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed with a smile, her own mask feeling almost dry as well. 

“Well…” he said, making sure the bottle of polish was closed tightly before he set it on the coffee table. Lifting her foot, he blew gently across her toes and it was her turn to draw in a sharp breath. 

“Fi… five minutes,” she whispered, licking her lips. 

“Let’s see if we can’t cut that in half,” he said, blowing on her toes again and she nodded. 

“I’m also not opposed to simply redoing them tomorrow, should they not have time to dry. Just so you’re aware,” she informed him. 

“Yeah, that works much better for me,” he said, moving her feet and rising from the couch. 

Reaching for her hand, he pulled her up and toward the bedroom as she laughed; the face mask stretching as she did.

Her toenails would most certainly need to be redone tomorrow, but she did not care. At that moment, her desire for the man she loved took precedence over all else. 

Especially smudged toes. 

Or face masks that had not quite dried. 

[onboardsorasora]

Tennis AU because Daniel's photo dump made me happy today!

Part 1 | Part 13 | Part 15

Part 14

Max hauled himself out of the water, flashing his sodden hair out of his eyes. He smiled a crinkly smile at his boyfriend who was bundled in a towel on the deck and looking more cozy than anyone had the right to be while on a boat out in open water.

Deciding that he needed to change that, he cleared the five steps that separated them, ripped the towel off and instead laid his soaked form on Daniels. The boisterous, joyous laugh that Daniel let out was worth it.

Daniel smiled widely at Max, circling his arms around his broad, wet shoulders and pulling him close. It was like snuggling under a sodden, weighted blanket and he couldn’t be more comfortable. He felt Max relax above him, his head tilted into the curve of Daniel’s neck. They laid quietly for a little, listening to the music playing from inside the cabin and the captain chattering with Blake.

“If you’re gonna fall asleep, we should probably go find a bed.” Daniel teased as Max’s breathing got deeper.

“If we find a bed, neither of us will be sleeping.” Max mouthed at his neck, to be a little shit.

“I’m sure we’ve like traumatized Blake enough.”

“I’m not sure we have. There’s still opportunity, maybe.”

They both giggled, knowing they’ve truly been a menace to the two other men on holiday with them. They didn’t feel bad about it, but they’d already agreed to buy both Blake and Michael an apology gift. They haven’t quite agreed on what it was yet; Daniel thought that wine would suffice but Max wasn’t on board yet.

They lapsed into silence again, the water lapping at the sides of the boat adding an additional sound to their atmosphere.

“After you win Wimbledon, you should come to Zandvoort.” Max nosed Daniel’s neck as he spoke, it was one of his favourite parts. Daniel had honestly thought he fell asleep.

“So sure of my victory, yeah?” Daniel squeezed his arms around Max’s shoulders again, unable to stop his body from squirming happily at the amount of faith Max had in him.

“Yeah, obviously.” As far as Max was concerned, there was no other option. Daniel was going to win it. He didn’t need to give it more thought than that, however, there was a different pressing matter to discuss. “Did you ask Blake about the shorts yet?” He smiled widely when he felt Daniel snort beneath him.

“Babe, you should’ve seen the look he gave me!” Daniel giggled some more, "I thought waiting till like we were drinking to ask him was a better plan than asking sober. He absolutely knows what we want to do with those shorts Maxy and he’s not amused that one"

“It's not like he needs to tell them what we want it for, he just needs to ask them for another pair.” Max said it like it was so simple, knowing it was anything but. They were essentially demanding that Blake ask Daniel’s sponsor for a new pair of a five year old design. If Daniel could spend some time actually at home, maybe he could find the original pair. But until then, maybe this was the quickest path.

“I haven’t seen them, but maybe this year’s shorts are similar?” Daniel wondered aloud. “I mean, they just need to be tight around the tush, yeah?”

“I guess,” Max groused, pretending to be put out that his original dream might be falling through. “They’ll still look good when I cum all over them after you win.”

“I’m gonna be so hard on the fuckin’ grass now, I hate you.” Daniel complained, tilting his head backwards on the bench morosely. 

Max smiled a cheeky smile, “you do not, you love me.” He teased before tensing, he glanced up at what he could see of Daniel’s face from his position. 

Daniel’s face remained skyward and soft, he pressed his tongue behind his teeth. “Yeah, you’re right. I do.” His lips fell open in a smile when he felt Max lean back to hover over him. They locked eyes and Daniel’s smile widened. “I love you Maxy.”

Daniel had the pleasure of watching Max’s face transform. He had always thought his boyfriend to be a beautiful man, with his square jaw, bright blue eyes and that darling freckle on his lip. But this Max was brighter than the sun and Daniel needed to be in his orbit. He surged up and kissed him, licking over his favourite freckle in the process. Max leaned into the kiss easily, unable to fully knock the smile off of his lips.

Max eased back and Daniel tried to follow him, causing another bright smile to bloom. “Wait Daniel. I, of course, have to tell you that I love you too.” He said it while Daniel pepper kisses where he could reach from his angle.

“Maybe we should go find that bed, so you could show me just how much, yeah?” Daniel said between kisses, melting a little more at Max’s joyous laugh.

Max dragged them both up and they giggled like teenagers while they barrelled down the stairs below deck.

“Oh come on there’s other people on this boat you cunts!” Blake called from bow, they both knew he was rolling his eyes at them.

“Turn up the music then!” Daniel called with a cackle before slamming the cabin door. Inside the room they giggled to each other as they heard the volume of the speaker system indeed go up.

“I love you Daniel.” Max stepped into Daniel’s space, slotting his hands on his boyfriend’s hips. Daniel’s smile was blinding.

“I love you too, Maxy.”

[shystrawberries]

October 5th, Artistic License

Star had been noticing something that disturbed her, slightly, for the last couple of days. She usually saw it in the mirror when she cleaned the family bathroom. Chipping of paint on her star rays, and the back of her shoulders. Odd placement, she thought. Things didn’t often come into contact with her rays, as they were too small and didn’t move like Sundrop’s did. In other words, they didn’t draw the attention of the children in the way that Sundrop did. He often had kids touching his sunrays and his shoulders and arms, anywhere they could reach, really. Often he ended up covered in finger paint. 

Finger paint. Her colorless eyes widened in realization. That… that could work. 

She finished mopping and made her way to the closet of cleaning supplies. She put away the mop and its companion, the bucket, before locking the door. The keys slid into her striped pants’ pockets. 

She hadn’t worn her skirt much since it was cleaned. It was folded neatly in the corner of her– the closet that held her charging port. 

She pondered the shelf against the far wall. It was a large shelf, the bottom cubbies used to house the children’s shoes and extra things that they wanted put away, and the shelves beyond their reach filled with bins of crafty things. She searched the bins now to find the finger paint. She considered the colors. There were several options, and not one of them came close to the color of her star rays. 

She filled her arms with the ones she thought she could mix together, grabbed a basic mixing palette, and tromped back to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and set things up on the baby changing station. It was sanitary. She had cleaned it at least three times, it better be sanitary in the five minutes she was away.

When she was done, the color she had ended up with on her rays wasn’t quite accurate, and along the way she had gotten distracted and started to make dots and swirly patterns in the paint with white. 

But it didn’t look right. She frowned at herself in the mirror and bent over to wash everything off. This was stupid. 

The bathroom door creaked open. She sighed. Of course. 

She turned the faucet on just as she looked behind her. “Hi Sundrop.” She said grimly. 

Sundrop paused to take in her new paint job. “Veeery nice!” he exclaimed. “Maybe I ought to do that sometime.”

She started by washing off the rays closer to the sink. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” He questioned as he leaned against the sink. 

“Try to make me feel better. I know it’s dumb.”

Sundrop chuckled. “Would I lie to you?”

She sideyed him even as she spun her faceplate to reach the top rays. Unlike Sundrop, she could not spin her sunrays individually from her faceplate. “Yes.”

“Name one time!” he gasped in offense. 

“Every little white lie you told me to get me away from the adults checking in and out.”

He sobered. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I just…” He looked away, picking at the silicone covering his fingertips. Star smacked his hands, but listened intently all the same. She had been wondering about the reason for all those lies. 

“When I was new to the public, and suspicion still lingered from the history behind this company, I wasn’t exactly… well-received. Neither was Moony, but at least the kids got used to us. The adults just couldn’t get over it, though, and our faces weren’t helping. You’ve seen the cartoony posters of us, right? When you come in with an expectation like that… well… I didn’t want you to face that too, Star. I should’ve told you the truth. I’m sorry.”

She made sure that her face and rays were completely clean before straightening. She tidied up the paint bottles, and rinsed off the palette as she mulled over his words. She supposed it made sense, and she did wish that he had spoken to her about his concerns instead of letting her stew over his actions, but then if she let herself be angry about it she’d be a hypocrite, wouldn’t she? She lets things sit for unreasonable amounts of time and makes assumptions all the time. 

She turned to see that her silence had impacted Sundrop more than she expected. He drooped like a flower without water and sun for far too long. “I forgive you, by the way. I just had to think about it first.”

He straightened. Though his smile was as static as ever, she could picture it broadening as he bounced with energy. “I’m so glad! I’ll do better, I promise.”

She followed him out of the bathroom all the way to the cubbies. He rifled through them and found a slip of paper and a marker. He held them up dramatically while she unloaded her haul. 

When she turned, he was holding out a bright yellow slip of paper with lines and words on it. There was a punched hole, with an orange ribbon threaded through. 

“What’s this?” She accepted the tag. 

“For you! Your artistic license!”

She stared at him over the piece of paper for an undetermined time, frozen in her thoughts. “My… artistic license?”

“Absoooolutely! You’ve come a long way in the path of art! I’m proud of you, Star.”

She read the lines on the paper over and over, later, in the comfort of her closet. The slip of paper was thumb-tacked to the wall next to her Moondrop paper pal. 

Though she still had concerns about her chipping paint, and she didn’t really believe she deserved an artistic license, she decided that it was a good day and that she would treasure what she thought she didn’t deserve. 

She was an atrocious crafter after all.

[baretklap]

TFV #3: Crusade

Attending the Tokyo Sports Puroresu Awards ceremony was supposed to be the easiest thing in the world. Exactly which part of the routine wasn’t easy to follow? Show up in a nice little suit, get into some conversations with your fellow wrestlers as if they mean something to you; then some photos for the press and at the end of the show, just accept your award and go home with increased prestige to your name. Simple as. You’d think that it would be nothing but a night of relaxation and validation of a year filled with grueling fights. No stakes, no action, zero chance of tomfoolery, right? Right?

Oh boy, was he wrong. The levels of fuckery that’d been reached were truly unprecedented.

Locked inside the janitor’s closet and handcuffed to someone else: It sounded like a new and badly written Hangover movie plot. Except this was no movie. He was perfectly sober and he assumed the same about the woman on the other side of the cuffs ... who stared at him and smiled like it was her birthday and Christmas at the same time.

Or maybe she was not sober at all. No sober woman would drag someone into a closet and handcuff herself to them. Then again, the execution was flawless. He had to give it to her, he was impressed. And it wasn’t like his current predicament was inescapable either. His desire to go for the obvious measures just happened to wane in comparison to his curiosity.

Stay put, The Foreigner told himself silently. Stay put and let her cook.

The road he’d followed so far came with its fair share of bumps and twists and turns before. He’d even gotten himself a trio of dumb idol slaves from the last time someone tried to throw a wrench in his plans. Surprise wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of emotions when it came to the events that were unfolding at the moment. As his harem grew, so did his actual wrestling career. More and more eyes were on him. He wouldn’t have been here in the first place if he wasn’t able to take the bad with the good.

Normally, he wouldn’t even consider a situation like this bad. But it was just so fucking annoying that Utami Hayashishita decided to pull this stunt during a national award ceremony. At least Mina had the common sense to arrange an empty warehouse beforehand.

“People must be looking for us,” he tried to reason with the Red Queen.

“That’s exactly why you should hurry, my hypno-lord,” Utami giggled, booping him on the nose as she teased him. “I don’t plan on uncuffing you with my free will still intact so you know what to do.”

The Foreigner found himself cringing at the nickname she’d used for him. He had his slaves call him plenty of things, ‘hypno-lord’ was not one of them and would never be one of them. Honestly, that was enough reason to enslave her right there and then but that would be playing right into her hands and he wasn’t sure what was her endgame here, so he refrained.

“Why?” he asked back, not an ounce of bafflement had left his voice.

“Ah, don’t panic. We should still have some time before they present the trophies,” Utami said in a cheerful tone. “That also means I can tell you all about ‘why’ if that means it will encourage you to do what you should’ve done already.”

“Fuck it, why not?” he said after a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. His body shifted a bit in the place as he tried to make himself comfortable in the claustrophobic room, as much as he could anyway. “Go on, please tell me what prompted you to do all of this.”

Utami gave him a look of pleasant surprise before letting out a giddy little giggle. She closed her eyes and turned her back, inadvertently causing the chain that bound the cuffs to yank on his wrist.

Then she started to recall and recount.

“It all started during my childhood. I come from a family of twelve and we all starred in a reality show about our big family, headlined by my father, ‘Big Daddy’ Kiyoshi Hayashishita. I always had to scratch and claw my way amongst my siblings to get my parents attention, even more so with the show going on. That made me quite the fighter an-”

“Hayashishita, what the fuck are you rambling about? Do you want me to be your hypnotist or your therapist? I can’t be both,” The Foreigner groaned. If Utami was going to tell all her life story then they’d be here for hours. “I already know about your family, anyone can go and read your biography. I’m more interested in the bits that actually are relevant to ... well, our situation.”

“Jeez, what a spoilsport,” the red-head pouted before conceding the point. “But okay, I’ll skip some parts, just for you, my sweet hunky ‘tist.”

The feeling of cringe did not dissipate, yet he still responded with a small nod anyway while Utami looked ready to abandon the dramatics and get on with the tale he wanted her to tell.

“The first time I saw you was after I had that time limit draw with Syuri…”

.......

Everything hurt. Bones, muscles, tendons, everything. Sixty minutes. A full fucking hour. Utami was in the ring for an hour, wrestling relentlessly in every single second of it. It would be unbelievable in any other circumstances but the pain and the soreness worked together to make sure she believed all of it. She carried the receipts all over her body. Today, she made history. She stood in the squared circle, faced one of the nastiest fighters to ever grace a wrestling ring, a former UFC alumna nonetheless. And she refused to go down. She didn’t fall, she didn’t lose. Utami Hayashishita was still the top dog in STARDOM. Still the world champion. Syuri couldn’t take that away from her.

Yet, Utami wasn’t happy in the slightest. Even though she entered the ring a champion and left a legend, she still wasn’t happy. Syuri couldn’t beat Utami, that much was true, but it also held up vice-versa. Utami didn’t lose … but she didn’t win either. That flimsy little detail was enough to tug at her after what should normally be a star-making performance. Apparently, this bother was noticeable enough for her to get called out for it.

“Utami, you’re so competitive.” Her ears picked up on the words of her best friend Saya Kamitani, appropriately nicknamed as Tall Saya.

Her length helped Utami greatly as she leaned on her for support after everything she had put her body through today.

“That competitiveness is what got you to the top,” Saya elaborated.

“Just don’t let this bring you down, okay?. You were amazing today. The old hag might’ve not gone down tonight, but she’s on the last limbs of her career anyway. She probably left everything she had in the ring today. But you’re in your prime, you have years of fuel left in the tank. Next time, you’re going to crush her and we’re going to laugh together at how needlessly sad you were when she managed to get a lucky draw against you.”

The Red Queen appreciated her kind words and she didn’t especially disagree with them either. Saya was a good friend but Utami was aware of Kamitani’s crush on her. It was a crush Saya utterly failed at hiding. It was also a crush that Utami wasn’t really sure she reciprociated. She even felt guilty at times for it, thinking that she was leading Saya on. However, the fighting prowess of the tall woman nearly matched hers and their chemistry in the ring was top notch. Saya was definitely the perfect tag team partner for The Red Queen. Her friendship was something she desperately wanted not to ruin. It was definitely not a conversation she looked forward to having; she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to have.

“We can go and grab some drinks if you want to. We can definitely use some unwinding after such a long night, I mean. Even if you still want to sulk about your match, we can at least celebrate my tournament victory! What better way to celebrate than doing it together!” Saya offered with perky excitement in her tone.

Right, Saya had won her tournament today, right. That was actually a pretty big deal but Utami had completely forgotten about her friend’s victory until she brought it up a second ago.

“My father attended today’s show, actually. He’s going to come and pick me up, but thanks for the offer anyway, Saya. I’d love to do it later.” Utami answered that inquiry with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Saya responded with a frown that made Utami feel even worse. The frown didn't last long before it abdicated its place to a smile again.

“Oh, Big Daddy Hayashishita is here?” Saya asked, clearly intrigued by the prospect, though she easily let it go. “You must be very tired after wrestling for a freaking hour! Go get your rest, queen.”

After the tall girl helped Utami to the parking lot, she dropped her off, gently laying Utami’s bags next to her before taking her leave. With Kamitani gone, Utami Hayashishita found herself completely alone. Alone at the top, alone at the parking lot. It was in the middle of June but she felt chilly somehow.

She wished she hadn’t made up the lie about her father attending the show. Looking around, she looked for ways to go back to her hotel. Kamitani wasn’t the only friend Utami had from her wrestling group called Queen’s Quest, though she didn’t have a diversity of choices ready either. AZM was too young to drive, so she was out of the question immediately. Maybe Momo was still around? She was perfectly reliable when it came to things like this. Not to mention how she was probably the only acceptable option now that Utami had driven Saya away with a totally unnecessary lie. Her eyes continued to scan the area, occasionally interrupted by some people passing by her to congratulate her or whatever. In Utami’s eyes there was nothing to congratulate. She couldn’t find Momo, but she saw someone more interesting.

It was that bastard Syuri. She felt her blood boil again, as if staring at her face for a full hour wasn’t enough for a single day.

Leaning on a grey Hyundai, her rival was fully engaged in a conversation with a man. At first, Utami only focused on Syuri, who was smiling and laughing along. Needless to say, this only served to rejuvenate the anger Utami felt.

Such blatant disrespect. The older woman didn’t exactly have time on her side and this was probably one of the last shots she had at true greatness. Syuri couldn’t beat Utami, couldn’t get the job done, couldn’t win the championship belt that currently decorated Utami’s shoulders. Yet, instead of focusing or reflecting on her failure, she was freely flirting with a man as if none of that happened nor mattered to her? How dared she? Who gave her the right to act like that?

As angry as she felt, Utami ultimately decided against causing a scene by walking up to her and confronting her. She wasn’t that miserable. But still, it didn’t stop her from staying put and seething silently.

Eventually, Syuri’s fling opened the door to the grey Hyundai and the gleeful woman entered the car. The man closed the door behind the former UFC fighter. Then, his face turned and his gaze met Utami’s. His gaze was sharp, cutting, as if she was staring into Utami’s very soul. His stare only lasted a second before the man gave the redhead a knowing smile before cutting eye contact, turning back and entering the vehicle himself.

What had just happened? Utami didn’t know, but she could hear her own heartbeat as if it was the only sound in the crowded parking lot.

Loud, thumping, just as confused as she was.

.......

“Nothing was ever the same for me after that…” Utami concluded, her cheeks approaching shades of red that resembled the color of her dyed hair. It must’ve been a very powerful memory for her, The Foreigner concluded.

Who was he kidding? Of course it was, he wouldn’t be in this situation if she didn’t feel this strongly. The lack of oxygen in the closet must’ve been getting to him.

“So, you saw me smiling at you and felt weird about it, am I getting this right? Have you ever been attracted to people before? I’m not talking about love at first sight but something close to that maybe…”

He didn’t expect Utami to let out another giggle.

“Now, I thought you didn’t want to be my therapist,” she said, a finger reaching to boop him on the nose again.

“I haven’t hypnotized you yet so that choice is still up in the air.”

“If you don’t make the right choice then there’s no way we’re getting out of here before it’s too late, I’m afraid.”

In his mind, he was still trying to make sense of this game. It would be easy of him to say ‘fuck it’, coax Utami’s hot body and that devious little mind of hers with his aura, get her to happily free him and continue this evening as if nothing had happened. But the feeling that he was missing something continued to loom over, or maybe it was still nothing more than simple curiosity and he was trying to make it more complicated than it was. Either way, he needed more context, he needed to know more. For that, he had to keep listening to Utami’s stories.

There were worse ways to spend time, The Foreigner supposed.

“So, how did you end up getting back to your hotel that day? Did you call a taxi?” he asked, redirecting Utami to get back on topic.

Utami’s pleasant smile vanished after hearing that question. He probably knew why.

“No, I eventually rode back with her…” Utami answered, though it almost came like a whisper. The name was spit with poison.

“Momo.”

.......

The cold steel of the folded chair met her flesh again. Utami lost count after ten. She could ask all the questions. God knew she had lots of those questions. How long had Momo been planning this? How hard was it for that Starlight brat and the rest of the Oedo Tai scum to convince her to do this? Why? Why? Why?

Starlight Kid had been provoking Momo for a while, trying to get into her head about the leadership of Queen’s Quest. She continuously taunted Momo about how she wasn’t the best anymore, how she wasn’t even the leader of Queen’s Quest like her predecessor wanted her to be. As if the leadership meant anything in a group that always strived to be the best version of themselves, as if.

Did Momo simply fall for those words?

Maybe she was feeling inferior for quite a while. Momo Watanabe was there before all of them, before AZM, before Saya, before Utami. Momo was supposed to be the future ace, yet she couldn’t live up to her full potential. Her shortcomings were never really discussed in the group and maybe it was their negligence that caused Momo to explode like that. In the worst way possible.

Did she hate them? Utami, Saya or even AZM, who was her best friend? Did Momo hate all of them? Did she grow too resentful due to feeling left behind?

Utami wanted to ask, she wanted to scream.

But she did none of that. She knew asking wouldn’t change anything. She would only get laughed at and eat another chairshot to the head for her troubles.

And truth be told, it didn’t really matter anyway. Whatever reason Momo might’ve had, it hurt all the same.

Her unresponsive body was dragged into the corner, near Saya and AZM. They were stacked up like a pile of trash, in the background as Momo celebrated her actions with her new group. Her new friends.

Momo Watanabe hadn’t been Utami’s best friend, but she was a good one. She was reliable, resourceful, a mentor to her when she first entered Queen’s Quest. If it wasn’t for her help, Utami would’ve never become who she was today. Now, she was gone. A friend turned into a foe. A traitor.

Mourning for a friend was honestly more painful than the combined sting of all those chair shots. She laid there, so did what remained of her group. Her head fell to the side, her eyes met Saya’s and then they shifted to AZM’s crying ones.

Did Utami really have any guarantees that they wouldn’t do the same to her once conflicts between them started appearing? Could she trust them to not turn their backs on her when jealousy reared its ugly head? Just how easy would it be for her enemies to manipulate the people Utami considered friends after Momo just proved that doing so wouldn’t be the hardest thing in the world? How co-

She stopped. She took a deep breath.

Utami felt shitty for thinking that way. This was a collective trauma they were going through. Her thoughts shouldn’t have been flocking around the notions of growing some distance away from the friends she still had and building a wall around her emotions. In fact, they should’ve gone the opposite direction. AZM and Saya needed her more than ever. She was the world champion, the ace of STARDOM, the ace of Queen’s Quest. She would endure. She had to endure.

When Oedo Tai left the ring, it was Utami who got up first, helping Saya and AZM to get back. The audience applauded them as they made their way back to their locker room, trying to console the betrayed trio. Not surprisingly, the cheers and the applause accomplished absolutely nothing.

Not a single noise emerged from the trio of women as they sat together in their locker room. AZM’s tears had dried up, Saya’s head was in between her hands. As for Utami, she eventually grew tired of the silence and the TV remote nearby was the solution to that little problem. The small television hung in the corner of the room has opened and on the feed … Utami saw Donna Del Mondo. The trio of Maika, Himeka and Natsupoi, to be more specific. She had seen them win another match early in the day, not to mention Syuri dismantling three opponents one-by-one in under ten minutes.

What did the Donnas have that Queen’s Quest didn’t? The hierarchy in their ranks was definitely more definitive than Queen’s Quest’s … yet everything was going all sunshine and rainbows with them. They had all the reasons for conflicts, for frictions, for jealousy, for defections, yet fucking 'Kumbaya' was all they sang. Their leader Giulia was clearly being outshined on a regular basis by Syuri. Natsupoi was basically a Cosmic Angels member in a DDM coat of paint. With all those glaring issues, what did they have that kept them together?

While AZM and Saya kept their focus on grieving over Momo’s betrayal, Utami’s eyes remained fixated on the scene.

DDM won their match. Because of course they fucking did.

Her mind reverted back to that time she saw Syuri with the man in the parking lot. Utami later found him out to be one of the New Japan guys. Truth be told, she’d been kinda intrigued by him ever since that day. She’d been doing her research, watching his matches, closely following his media appearances. He was close with Syuri, close with the whole Donna Del Mondo, actually. She didn’t even know why she was so fixated on him. Surely his good looks and promising portfolio of wrestling matches didn’t warrant borderline stalker-ish behaviour from her, did they?

She didn’t answer her own question as she felt a set of arms around her, disrupting her inner monologue. Saya was hugging her. AZM followed suit. Tension in her body released as she released another deep breath. It was clear. They needed her.

But Utami needed something too. She just wasn’t sure what … or who.

.......

“I’m guessing you’d found it, otherwise we wouldn’t really be here together, would we?” The Foreigner asked, fully aware that he was probably asking the most rhetorical question in the history of rhetorical questions. Well, unless Utami planned to pull a legendary plot twist, that is.

An overly sweet nod accompanying an overly sweet smile was the overly sweet redhead’s answer. The master hypnotist used his non-cuffed hand to wipe small drops of sweat from his forehead.

“Are you ready to claim me now?” Utami asked, lightly wiggling in her place in anticipation. “I promise to make your wait worthwhile, Master.”

At least she'd dropped the embarrassing pet names. He looked at Utami’s cute little face before grabbing the chain that bound their cuffs together. She was cuffed to him as much as he was cuffed to her and The Foreigner used that fact to yank the chain, pulling Utami towards him. They were real close now.

A cool smirk was on his face now, his smooth lips just inches away from Utami’s quivering ones. She was prepared from the start to give herself to him. Was the man who owned not one but two whole groups in Utami’s workplace finally ready to start worming his way up into a third one?

He saw Utami close her eyes, her lips slowly pushing forward, ready for the kiss of her life.

“Continue the story,” he said before gently pushing her away from that intimate position. He didn’t put much of his aura into the command, almost next to none, but Utami already had the obedience part covered even without him pushing for it.

He was enjoying this.

“Though I probably know what comes next.” he continued, there was an event involving Utami very close in date to Momo Watanabe’s betrayal of Queen’s Quest. He remembered it well, for multiple reasons.

Utami had recovered from the shock by that point and continued the story as he wished.

.......

The curtains that separated the backstage area and the entrance ramp parted in the middle and out emerged The Red Queen. She was in front of her subjects now and the champion of STARDOM was ready to carry her symbol of excellence into the future and beyond. It’d barely passed the mark of one week after the Momo incident but Utami had no time to dwell on that. The pyrotechnics went off behind her, amplifying the greatness of her already-grandiose entrance, hyping the fans even more for the arrival of the greatest professional wrestler in the world. Utami Hayashishita had beaten many opponents, defended her title against many pretenders. This time was going to be no different, no matter the circumstances. She was the fucking Red Queen. It had to be her, it couldn’t be anyone else.

Utami subconsciously continued to swirl her signature rose in her hand while her eyes met her opponent from a distance. A very familiar opponent.

The old hag stared back. Syuri was still in the game, stronger than ever after winning the biggest tournament of the year, granting her another shot at Utami and her world championship belt. Their last meeting ended with much frustration for Utami. Now was the time to make up for that misstep.

Instead of entering the ring directly and starting the match immediately, Utami took her sweet-ass time, circling around the ring instead. Normally, she would’ve given her rose to a random member of the audience by now, preferably someone sitting close to the ramp instead of someone from the sections around the ring. One of the commentators was fair game too, but they also failed to receive her rose today. Utami had her target plain in sight.

DDM’s secret prince was in the audience, perfectly unaware of how he drove Utami crazy. But it was all okay, Utami was never handed anything in life, she always fought for it. Today, he would see first-hand just how much of a fluke the first match was on Syuri's behalf. His existence was giving the DDM girls extra confidence and resolve, that was the conclusion Utami had come to as the result of her research. How else could Syuri win the biggest tournament of the year?

But it was all okay, if Syuri was going to go hard because of his presence, then Utami would have to go extra hard to compensate for that. She never backed down from a challenge.

Her forbidden fruit would have to watch her destroy his beloved Syuri. But Utami already had plans to make it up to him. In fact, she stopped circling around the ring like a vulture, finally standing in front of a section of fans. Giving Syuri one last glance, she turned around and extended her arm. The old hag wanted to steal her title, her crown from her. She could try. Turnabout was always fair play. Utami was going to steal her man’s heart in return.

Her heart started pounding as she offered her rose to him, praying that he would take it. Three thousand people were watching her in the arena with even more people watching it online. She didn’t care. Only for that moment, nobody else existed in the arena. Not even Syuri. Just Utami and him. To her absolute joy, he accepted her rose after offering back the same assuring and warm smile he gave her in the parking lot. That’s how Utami knew that everything was going to be alright. She turned back, climbed the steel steps and was in the ring immediately after that.

Last time, they went over 60 minutes, with no winners. But this time, there was no time limit in the match, meaning that there had to be a winner. Utami was going to win it. The ‘no time limit’ stipulation be damned, she wasn’t even going to let it go to 60 minutes this time.

And she didn’t, because it only took 36 minutes.

For Syuri to beat her.

She lost. Utami had lost. When she opened her eyes again, Syuri was already given the championship belt that used to be hers.

The former champion tried to raise her head, her eyes looking for him. He was watching with a proud smile as Syuri celebrated with the title she took from her.

She closed her eyes again, waiting for it to be just a bad dream. She would open her eyes again and wake up again. Maybe the belt would still be with her. Maybe Momo would still be with them. Maybe. Just maybe.

But when she opened her eyes back again, the reality didn’t change. She had lost and she had to live with that now.

Fuck.

.......

The Foreigner didn’t know which was sweeter, reminiscing about Syuri's big victory or seeing Utami pout at his amusement of said reminiscence. If Utami knew the full details of what happened after the show, then there would be no way she could blame him for letting a big dumb smirk decorate his face.

Giulia, Maika, Himeka and ‘Poi all worshipping Syuri’s body with their hands and their mouths. The all-conquering champion was handed the privilege to command her friends for that day like her Master did every single day. The expensive royal suite, the heavenly king-sized bed. The greatest orgy ever. The world championship belt. God. And after god, The Foreigner.

“For what it’s worth…” he said, laying smugly in his place. “...I did keep the rose.”

“Y-you did?” Utami asked, blushing like a maiden.

“Why wouldn’t I? The world champion of the time had specifically given me a rose, not many men can claim the same thing.” he shrugged, using simple logic.

“Sure, the world champion of the time didn’t remain that for long after that, but still…” he then teased, dealing another blow to Utami after she had to recall that experience.

“You’re right, I don’t give my roses to many men.” Utami responded, finding herself some flat object to sit on. It was a miracle how nobody had interrupted them yet, honestly. “But you’re not ‘many men’.”

“Oh, on that much we agree.” He was pretty bold with his words. He had all the reasons to be.

Not many men got roses from a beautiful champion like Utami. Not many men had two different wrestling factions bound to his will and worshipping him like obedient slaves. Not many men at all. There was much to be proud of in being unique.

“And giving you the rose wasn’t the only thing I did to appease you.”

“Do you remember the interview you gave to the Tokyo Sports magazine back in February?” Utami asked, her uncuffed hand running through her hair.

.......

“We’re finally here!” Saya squealed as they stopped in front of the hairdresser shop.

Utami was glad she was finally getting to do something nice for Saya. She’d promised to take the taller girl to her hairdresser and having the week off meant that the plan could finally come to fruition.

Tall Saya pushed the glass door and the two ladies entered the shop. Utami’s hairstylist was busy with a customer at the moment but she still took the moment to greet the former champion and her best friend.

“Let’s sit down.” Utami offered as it became apparent that her hairdresser wouldn’t have her hands free for quite some time.

Some magazines laid on the table as they always did. Fashion, home architecture, music and Tokyo Sports. Saya took the last one and gave it a quizzical look, which didn’t escape Utami’s eye.

“I’m a regular here so the owner puts Tokyo Sports on the table in case I show up.” she explained to Saya, who had opened the magazine and was in the process of going through some pages arbitrarily.

Utami let her do that while she didn’t particularly try to pass time with magazines. Her mind was already occupied enough. Quite frankly, the storms that brewed within her head were the primary reason she was having this relaxing outing with Kamitani anyway. It was a shame her stylist still had some work to do with her current customer, prompting The Red Queen to wait until the owner of the shop gave her the perfect opportunity to dispel those thoughts.

“So … “ Saya dragged the word out. “What are you going to do with your hair today?”

“I don’t know, really. Maybe refresh the colour? I’m not planning drastic changes, we’re here more for you than me, honestly,” Utami replied.

“Oh, good to know,” her friend smiled back. “Your hair is lovely like this, Utami! I think long red locks suit you perfectly. I don’t think you should change it at all.”

A nervous giggle also escaped Kamitani’s lips. It was an awkward enough sound to push her face back to her magazine and shut up for a minute. Utami found it endearing, however, despite not feeling any more ready to talk about Saya’s ongoing crush on her.

“That’s just great…” Utami heard her break her silence. Saya was rolling her eyes as well while gently slapping the page she had been reading to indicate her displeasure with it.

“Another article about Syuri’s championship reign. If those journalists love her soooo much then they should just marry her and be done with it.”

Utami really wanted to ‘thank’ Saya for not making it easy to stop thinking about her recent shortcomings but she elected not to. She was better than that. Hayashishita just closed her eyes instead and let out a deep breath. Maybe the magazines weren’t such a bad idea…

“Oh, they also have an interview with that New Japan guy you just don’t shut up about.”

“Give me!” Utami said instantly, hand reaching for the magazine.

And now Saya was giving her a weird look.

“... for the Syuri article … !” Utami was the least convincing person in the world right now. “I-I want to ridicule it, I swear! She s-sucks, yeah, Syuri sucks! Totally!”

Saya handed her the magazine anyway, though not without rolling her eyes again with greater vitriol this time. Then, her hands hastily grabbed another magazine. As her friend did that, Utami realized something. Talking about him annoyed Saya a lot more than talking about Syuri. Which was pretty telling of how Utami talked about him, she supposed. Even though she tried to keep the secret nature of her feelings to a minimum, like always talking about his match quality or whatnot, she guessed Saya was smart enough to get all the necessary hints from her tone and all that.

But reading the interview with him took precedence over trying to reassure her friend. Kamitani was quick to flare and her anger was quick to die down. She would forget about it soon and the issue wasn’t even serious anyway. Certainly not serious enough to bother her reading time.

He just looked so ravishing in his photo that covered both the pages like a poster. She licked her lips on pure instinct before hoping Saya didn’t see it.

He had such a way with words. He gave such eloquent answers describing his thought process on staging a coup against his former group leader, resulting in him taking over as the new leader of the pack. His primary goal was to win the world championship on his own promotion. Such noble desires, she always took him for a man who had no problems just taking what he wanted. As far as she had watched him, he hadn’t proved her wrong. The girls of Donna Del Mondo had a weird relationship with him, a relationship apparently nobody but her really noticed. She didn’t make it a big fuss out of it by talking about it to others either. Utami was sure he’d appreciate his privacy.

Tokyo Sports usually asked off-topic questions to the athletes they interviewed as well with him being no exception to the rule. Her eyes became glued to the pages of the magazine as she read a question about his taste in women.

‘I don’t know how cliche I can get with this but I do like confident and strong girls. Why wouldn’t I? I’ll also admit that I have a soft spot for short hair on women, I don’t mean buzzcut or anything but something around the neck-length would be ideal.’

His answer did not elaborate more than that and after a few more passages, Utami had finished reading the article. She laid the Tokyo Sports magazine back on the table, in front of Kamitani in case she wanted to pick up from where she was left off. She raised her head again after that, only to see that the customer that kept her hairdresser busy was preparing to leave. Now available, the hairdresser soon walked up to them, ready to take them away from the magazines and the unspoken crush dramas.

“Alright, Utami, I will have you first.” she asked her first, prompting Utami to get up. “So, what do you want me to do with your hair today?”

As she approached the chair, Utami had a smile on her face and crystal clarity in her voice.

“I want to try something new today.”

.......

“We had a big fight because of that haircut, you know? Saya didn’t talk to me for a month after that day,” revealed Utami. Even though she tried to cover it with chuckles, The Foreigner did end up sensing the tiniest hint of bitterness in his stalker’s voice.

“And I don’t think our friendship really recovered from that. Sure, we still joke around. We still tag sometimes. But she’s nowhere near as close to me as she used to be.”

His response didn’t vocalize immediately. Instead, he wiggled his way an inch or so closer to Utami, catching her by total surprise as his hand reached out to brush some of her crimson hair behind her ear. It would be pretty redundant to mention the intense blush making its return on her cheeks. Both her hands closed around his almost on instinct. They felt so soft, her grip was almost non-existent. It was easy for him to draw his hand back. From her hands, at least, the cuffs were still on.

“I think short hair looks perfect on you, Utami.” the compliment was accompanied with a charming smile. He had grown way too comfortable with playing the role of the dashing prince.

“T-thank you.” she said, no, squealed was a better term for it. “Then I’d say the haircut was totally worth it.”

“Of course.”

It was too bad he couldn’t find any suitable watch to match with the suit. He had no idea how much time had passed since Utami dragged him here. Well, the story hadn’t reached its conclusion yet, so he figured some more time would be spent as well.

“You cut your hair and suddenly we are here, is that it?” He questioned. “Feels like you still haven’t told me the most important bits.”

“Yes,” Utami nodded as she slowly lowered her hands back. They had hung too long in the air after the warmth of his hand departed from her skin.

“My feelings for you were hard to put into words, honestly. I’d never felt anything like that before,” she admitted. “I did find some clarity eventually, even though it was from the most strange of sources.”

.......

Stalking came in different shapes and purposes. Utami wasn’t proud to admit that her portfolio on that subject was quite diverse. She was already adept at stalking the prime object of her burning desire. She had been collecting tapes, magazines, memorabilia and all sorts of things. Everything that she could own or decipher to figure him out and make her way into his heart would help. But that was all for love. The goal was about something she could share with him.

As the former world champion slithered her way out of the locker room, she reminded herself that this was for her and her only. She didn’t sneak her way into the only female-only gym in the city at goddamn 4 AM without telling anyone for no reason.

The Red Queen wanted her crown back. If that meant she would have to resort to some extreme methods like stalking Syuri then she would be a fool to think even twice about it. The current world champion had recently expressed in an interview that her routine before title matches included working out dead in the night where she would have a whole gym by herself. Utami was going to stalk, no, scout Syuri from a distance. She would take note of every little detail in Syuri’s workout so that she could use them against her rival and take her world title back.

The plan seemed foolproof until Utami realized that Syuri wasn’t there alone. Old hag didn’t mention a sparring partner in her interview. Weirder was the fact that the woman near her was a part of the STARDOM roster and she wasn’t even from DDM. What exactly was Unagi Sayaka of Cosmic Angels doing in the dead of the night with Syuri?

Before Utami’s mind could jump to all sorts of conclusions, the unlikely duo continued whatever conversation they’d had before. Even with the distance, Utami could hear them perfectly.

“You can’t do this to me!.” whined the Cosmic Angel, her arms crossed. “Being up this late seriously messes with my own routine! Do you know how much extra beauty sleep I will need to get after this?”

Syuri didn’t seem to care at all, her smirk was borderline predatory as she eyed Unagi up. This clarified absolutely nothing for Utami.

“Why didn’t you ask someone from your own team to help you train?” Unagi asked. That was one of the questions in Utami’s mind as well. One of many, in fact.

“Because I wanted to play with you instead.” Syuri answered casually. “And because I know you will obey me completely unlike them.”

Utami’s mind had to do a double take after that answer. Was she hearing Syuri correctly? O-obey? What was Syuri talking about? Were they in a relationship?

Was Syuri cheating on the man Utami spent months obsessing about … with Unagi? The world had gone insane, Utami was sure of it, nothing made sense in her life anymore.

The list of questions only expanded when she heard Syuri utter a nonsensical phrase and Unagi’s body went stiff for a moment before relaxing completely. The Cosmic Angel had a blank expression on her face, her head tilted slightly to her side. She totally looked like she was in a trance. Her eyes were blankly staring into the distance. Her arms were slack to the point of slightly oscillating from side to side. Utami was sure that the mindless looking woman would fall down with a single poke. Syuri’s gaze grew even more hungry, her hands immediately grabbing the straps of Sayaka’s sports bra before roughly pulling them down.

And it only escalated from there.

Utami felt hot.

Watching them kiss and fuck over the gym equipment. Gazing upon their glorious naked bodies. Hearing Syuri be called ‘Mistress’ by the woman who was being treated, quite frankly, like a sex slave.

Utami didn’t exactly know how she managed to not touch herself and make her presence known to the two lovers(?), but she knew it was quite the miraculous task. Maybe it was her devotion to him that repelled her from pleasuring herself to the possible sight of him getting cheated on. Maybe it was a backlog of battles and hatred she shared with Syuri. But ‘maybe’s were irrelevant.

This was fishy. Utami had massive doubts that this was just some kinky roleplay sex. Unagi might’ve been more proficient at the acting side of wrestling than she was at wrestling side, but no actress in the world had the acting chops to act as if she’d suddenly gone into a deep trance without breaking the character for a single second as every inch of their bodies were used sexually.

The redhead silently uttered the gibberish phrase Syuri used to initiate Unagi’s ‘trance’ to make sure if she still remembered it. She had to get to the bottom of this. As she repeated the phrase once more, Utami realized that she had the means to do so.

.......

“The very next show, I caught Unagi backstage alone. She was surprised to see me approach her. Before she could say anything however, I put her under by using her trigger phrase,” Utami explained. Her heart was beating faster and faster with each second, utterly unable to get a read on him. “I ordered her to tell me everything.”

“And she did,” he realized. His focus departed away from Utami as he pressed his fingertips together. He looked thoughtful.

His periods of silence usually meant that he wanted Utami to continue the story, but that was all there was to it. Utami was taken by his charms and after months of (not so) secretly and (not so) silently obsessing over him, she had grown to find that he could literally charm people to the point of brainwashing them. Everything had led her to this moment.

The moment was at hand for Utami. She had him where she wanted him. It would reflect badly on him in the eyes of the public if he were to not make it in time to humbly accept the award graciously bestowed upon him. Sure, that wouldn’t be the biggest scandal in the world, not even close. However, his career was still young and that meant even the smallest controversy would cause a big headache for the man she wanted more than anything else in the world.

She had accepted him completely. She had accepted his ‘abilities’. She had accepted his desires. She had even accepted the fact that she was going to share him with so many others including her biggest rival. Would she be asking for too much if she just wanted him to accept her love in return?

The silence really unnerved Utami. He should’ve jumped her by now.

“People must be looking for us,” she said, calling back to what he’d said before. Calling him to act as soon as possible. Calling him to claim her.

His head finally turned back to her again. He had a wide grin on his beautiful face, his piercing gaze sizing her up like a full course meal. Utami smiled back. A hopeful warmth had filled her body. Did this mean that he started to work his magic?

His free hand grabbed the chain binding them together and tugged on it, yanking her wrist with it in a rather harsh manner. He did it again and it hurt. Yet, Utami was happier than ever because his message was clear. He wanted her but he wasn’t going to go out his way to jump her. No, he wanted her to come to him instead. So, she did. On her hands and knees. Crawling to him to awaken further desire within the loins that claimed many of her colleagues.

When she got close enough, his arms reached and hugged her. Accepting her love. Utami let out a soft moan as she melted into his embrace. He smelled like a bouquet of roses. It felt so soft, so comfortable. So right.

She never wanted this to end and that made it way all too painful when he suddenly broke the hug. Before Utami could comprehend what was going on, his hands swiftly grabbed her by both shoulders. He turned her around and embraced her again from the back this time. His cuffed arm went around her and the long chain holding the cuffs together was now wrapped around Utami’s triceps, severely restricting the movement of both her upper arms.

Utami was confused and worried. Now it was him who had her dead to rights. As if the space he comfortably occupied in her head wasn’t enough, he had her physically restrained too with the help of the very same handcuffs she used against him. It felt humiliating … It felt hot. So hot. She’d been dealing with arousal the entire time they’d been locked together but this compromising position just turned that up to eleven. It was bad to the point where she had just realized that she’d been rubbing her ass on his crotch since the moment he turned her backwards.

This earned a chuckle from him … and an erection that pressed up against her behind. To know that she aroused him back only served to amplify her excitement.

“I think it’s time I tell you a little story of my own, Utami,” he said in a low tone, but it didn’t matter. His mouth was just an inch or two away from her ear. She could feel his breath on her skin, giving it pleasant little tingles.

She nodded, pretty much all she could do in her position. Her heart was going berserk inside her ribcage. She could barely take it anymore. The Red Queen was turned into a blushing and gushing little maiden in his hands.

“I’m really surprised though!” he said in an amused tone. “I thought you would’ve figured it all out after everything Unagi told you. Suppose not.”

Figure it out? Utami tried to turn her head backwards and try to look at his face, but a soft push from one of his palms blocked that. She was too weak to even attempt to fight. Despite her upper arms having very restricted mobility, the rest of her arms were free to move. He took advantage of that. Grabbing Utami’s free wrist with his own free hand, he gently guided the hand under her kimono … under her panties.

“Rub,” he commanded. Utami let out a squeal before immediately going to work. God, she needed this so bad. She needed him so bad.

“You’ve been hooked on me since the moment our eyes met at the parking lot.” he said with a laugh. “I was trying to charm you. It was the best I could do in that short time period and from that distance.”

He wanted her from the very beginning. It made sense. It made so much sense. He wanted her to want him. He planted the small seeds of desire and obsession within her and with time, they only grew and grew. This revelation only made her strokes more furious as the frequency of her moans increased.

“I really wanted to take my time with this one as well, my sweet Red Queen,” he teased. She leaned her head back to him. The ethereal sensation of his embrace slowly came back to her. He was doing it, he was turning his aura up. Utami heard enough details from Unagi to know that this was basically him ‘claiming’ his girls, making them his slaves. She kept on rubbing and rubbing. Her eyes rolled back into the head. She was close, so close…

“Stop,” he said.

No. He ordered. His voice had the conviction of a god. His power over her was so strong that it beat out her aching need for release. A gasping sound left her mouth as she shivered from stopping so abruptly.

Then, she nodded, acknowledging that she had and would obey an order. If this didn’t mean that she was properly being claimed, then Utami didn’t know what would. He was taking her, he was enslaving her. Her imagination was already running wild on what her new life as his slave would entail.

“You are not allowed to cum until I finish my story, understand?” he asked and she immediately nodded. “Good. Keep on edging for me, Utami.”

Yet another nod. Her hand found her needy pussy once more. She got to work once more.

“After that epic match you had with Syuri, everything kept going downhill for you, didn’t it?” he continued with the story. Her nods were almost automatic at this point. But she also couldn’t deny that he was right.

“You still think it was Starlight Kid who whispered all those sweet nothings into Momo’s ear? The girl was fiercely loyal to Queen’s Quest. Her change of mind was far from natural, if you know what I mean.”

Her eyes opened wide and her rubbing stopped for a second as she faced that realization. But then the warmth filled her again, as if a hand was pulling her back to the clouds. Softening her, surrounding her. Utami imagined him physically whispering into Momo’s ear as the traitor smiled and nodded, her mushy brain taking his words as heavenly gospel.

“How do you think Syuri won the tournament? How do you think she handed your ass to you and took your title? I trained her, I encouraged her, I made sure that beating you meant everything to her. You stood no chance against her, nobody could’ve beaten her on that night.”

She rubbed, she rubbed, she rubbed. She took everything in like a sponge and she rubbed. Fantasies continued to fill Utami’s dirty little mind. Him having Syuri work out naked in a gym, ordering her to do squats on his cock, promising to drown her in much love and affection if she were to beat Utami like yesterday’s trash. She rubbed and she stopped. She continued to rub again.

“What about poor little Saya Kamitani, the girl was your biggest simp, wasn’t she? And nowadays she barely even talks to you. Do I need to say why at this point?”

Oh fuck. Saya was in on it too. Her cute little face, devoid of any emotion but pure ecstasy, denouncing Utami in front of him as he gave Utami’s best friend all the pleasant sensations in the world before he made any move on Utami herself. The girl was in love with Utami, but his power was strong enough to turn her burning love into nothing but cold apathy. Fuck. She rubbed. She stopped. It was a real close call. She started again.

“Oh, and of course. The finale. You didn’t think it would be easy to notice another person in an empty gym at those hours? Syuri knew you were there from the very beginning. She texted me asking what she should do about it. I told her to trance Unagi and put on a show for you. I wanted them to let you in on the secret. I wanted to see what you would do with the information. You didn’t disappoint, making your way to me eventually.”

All his words, all these revelations, they were all dripped with honey, driving Utami crazier and crazier. Rub. Stop. Rub. Stop. Edge. Edge. Edge. She remembered all the details of their debauchery. She imagined how happy Syuri must’ve felt after getting permission from him to use Unagi as a sex doll just to bait Utami. Poor, helpless Sayaka probably had no clue what was going on. Then again, Utami’s been just as helpless and clueless as her all this time.

“Utami Hayashishita, you had everything. But I took it all from you and replaced them with nothing but me. Your title, Momo, Saya, everything. And now it’s time I take you too.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she repeated, her voice hoarse. ”Please take me, please.”

He whispered into her ear.

“Cum.”

The orgasm shook Utami to her very core. For a moment, she forgot everything. For a moment, the world was nothing but blinding white. What followed was what felt like visions from the future. Her life as her Master’s obedient slave. Worshipping his divine body. Wearing a collar and a leash to signify her place as his pet. Fiercely making out with Syuri at his request, acting submissive to her fiercest rival because he wanted her to. Following his plans and using her own charms to gather more slaves for him. Being part of something greater.

When the afterglow of her orgasm has passed and she came back to her senses, she looked at him with the biggest smile one could ever muster.

“I am yours, Master. What can your humble slave do for you?”

“Remove the cuffs.”

“Yes, Master.”

Utami reached under her kimono once again. Instead of reaching down to touch herself once more, her hand snuck inside her bra. When it was back out again, she was holding a key. She used the key to uncuff her Master as he requested.

He rubbed his wrist for a moment before giving his new slave a kiss on the forehead. Utami giggled into the kiss, completely overjoyed by the events that had unfolded in this tiny janitor’s closet. He soon reached for the door.

“Can’t stay here forever, have an award to accept. And if I remember it right, you have one too. So, I wouldn’t be very late if I were you.”

Then, he was out of the room, leaving Utami alone in the closet. Alone with her own thoughts, the very same thoughts he owned.

Once upon a time, Utami Hayashishita had everything she could’ve ever wanted.

Then she lost them all and was left with nothing.

But now, she had everything once more.

.......

.......

.......

”Fuck, that was so hot,” were the first words that left Giulia’s mouth once her Master had finished recalling the story of how he recruited the mighty Utami Hayashishita as her newest slave-sister.

“I know you’re quite fond of using your influence on other people to enslave a certain target…” she recalled. He’d done the exact same thing to Giulia too. Maika, Syuri, Himeka, Natsupoi. They were all brainwashed by Master before her and they all worked together to bring Giulia under. She cherished the memories dearly.

“But did you really do all of that? Seems a bit excessive.” she said as she playfully snugged to him in the bed they shared. She’d won the bed privileges by winning her last match and she was going to use it to full extent. “How come I haven't seen Watanabe or Kamitani with you? I feel like you would’ve told us if you snatched those two, and well, you would've used them alongside us. I mean, is someone really hypnotized by you if I hadn't been ordered to eat them out?”

Giulia didn’t expect Master to let out a hearty chuckle to that, but his joy was her joy, so she laughed as well.

“Nah, I totally made the whole master plan thing up on the spot.”

Now Giulia understood why he seemed so amused.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Look, it doesn’t matter if I actually orchestrated all those events and enslaved her friends or not. The precious Red Queen believes that I did, and that’s all that matters. She believes that everything she’s lost is because of me and that means she can’t get them back without my approval. In her mind, everything loops back to me. I am all there is for my dearest Utami.”

“Master, that’s horrible!” Giulia said before another laugh. A playful jab landed on his chest. “And so hot.”

“Yes, it is,” he confirmed. “But Giulia, I thought you knew better than that..”

Giulia’s genuine smile turned into an awkward one. She rubbed the back of her head. Did she displease her Master somehow?

“I’d rather have you sucking my cock than trying to poke holes in my fabricated master plans.”

She nodded profusely as she swiftly moved to give him another blowjob. He caressed her platinum locks as she did so.

“Such a good girl,” he purred. “And if you feel disappointed that I didn’t end up enslaving Momo or Saya, well … all in due time.”

“All in due time," he repeated.

Then he closed his eyes and let pleasure overtake him once more. There would be only one way to go from here: Upwards.

[j4xotto]

Melbourne, 2014.

The first time Jax kissed Ash, he was deadly sober.

Well, mostly sober. He remembered his skin was sticky-sweet with champagne, most of the spray having dribbled down his chin, pornographic in a way he was sure would be giffed on Tumblr and later reblogged by a hundred horny, queer Formula One fans. Everything he ever did was put under a microscope, but in that moment, he was too euphoric to care. Let me celebrate tonight, he thought. Let me throw myself into the arms of my teammate, roar with the crowd. Today, he was on the podium, he was first fucking place.

Bodies pressed in on him from every side, clapping his back and clutching onto his race suit. Pure adrenaline coarsed through him, his heart still jackhammering with the thrum of the engine. Amongst the throng of people, Jax was vaguely aware of the team principal ruffling his hair, his eyes clapping on his Mum, beaming with pride. His Dad was crying, fat tears of pride spilling down his cheeks, his baby niece propped up on his shoulders. Little Paige, who Jax remembered holding in the delivery room, wearing a bright smile for him, a number four painted in glitter on her cheek. Jax wished he could say it didn’t all pale in comparison to seeing Ash.

Because when Ash hurtled toward him in the crowd, God, his heart clenched in his chest. It felt as though he was moving in slow motion to get to him, the end goal to be eveloped in his arms. Pride beamed out from Ash’s features, eyes glittering from beneath his dark brow. Those full, pretty lips Jax had fantasised about kissing one too many times were pulled into a bright smile. And then suddenly, Ash’s arms were around him, pulling him into a hug so tight the rest of the world fell away.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, Jaxxy.” he breathed, the words hot against Jax’s ear, his honeycoated Boston accent curling around the praise. It made Jax's stomach twist every time.

For just a second, Jax can live in this daydream. That Ash is his, and that he's allowed to want him. That he’s allowed to celebrate his win with the man he loves, in front of his team, at his home race. Breathing in in the slick smell of sweat against Ash’s skin, Jax knocked his Haas cap clean off his head. It fell to the ground, forgotten and probably crushed, as Jax pushed his fingers into Ash’s dark locks.

He forgot himself. In hindsight, he can admit that. When Ash pulled back, bright and blazing and beautiful, Jax moved to press his lips to the other man’s cheek.

Cameras everywhere flashed as Jax missed by half an inch, catching Ash full on the mouth. A closed mouth press of lips that leaves his trainer startled, Ash whipping his head back with wide eyes, no regard for Jax’s hurt feelings as he plastered a scowl on his face. What should’ve been the best day of his life took a sudden, steep drop off the edge of a cliff.

When Jax disentangled from his friend, his Ash, the first thing he saw was Kelly. Her blonde hair had been swept off her shoulders and fastened in a tight top knot, a precaution against the stuffy Melbourne heat. She'd pressed herself against Jax in a bright hug and a flurry of nerves moments before he stepped in the car, looking so proud she might burst. Now, when Jax's eyes met hers, they found her blue eyes brimming with rage and unshed tears. From where she was standing, Jax was sure it looked pretty bad. After all, wasn't he supposed to be her friend?

Sorry, Kelly, he remembered thinking, but I did love him first.

In the the end, Jax found himself on the doorstep to his family home. A week spent in Sydney, crying bitterly in the arms of his Mum. Jax was all too certain that his racing career was over, a sting not even Mila Otto could soothe. This horrible, hyper-masculine sport he loved so fiercely had turned its back on him for the final time. The photo was splashed over every major news outlet, and Jax was called every hateful name under the sun by every sports commentator, journalist and motor sports fan. The few times Jax dared to log into Twitter, there’s a few sweet girls with the Australian flag in their display name who tweet him a string of hearts, a reminder that he is loved and even supported. Each night involves Jax trying and failing to read a few thinkpieces on the importance of queer athletes in male dominated sports, but they just hurt his head.

There was talk about dropping him from Haas. The consolation is a stern telling off for his behaviour and a string of press conferences. Jax sitting shoulder to shoulder with other drivers as he made jokes, denied everything, no homo’d his way through it all.

If you were to ask about Jax Otto's racing season in 2014, most people would tell you about his wins. How he was consistently at pole position, how he finished P1, P2, P3 most races. How the crowd would light up with him, chanting his name as he stepped out of the car, bright, vibrant and alive.

If you were to google Jax Otto now, the picture of him kissing another man isn't even the first thing that comes up.

[starseedfxofficial]

Williams %R Meets Grid Trading: The Underrated Duo You've Been Sleeping On Ever feel like you’re missing something when you see other traders winning big? Maybe it's that feeling you get when you see a pro seamlessly navigate a chaotic chart, while you’re stuck wondering if you should’ve bought Bitcoin back when it was the price of a decent pizza. Well, there’s a method out there that traders keep in their secret stash, and it might just involve two game-changing concepts you’re not using to their full potential: Williams %R and Grid Trading. The Magic of Williams %R: Don't Let Its Simplicity Fool You Let's start with Williams %R, also known as Larry Williams' wild ride into overbought and oversold zones. Imagine Williams %R as your trading mood ring—it tells you if the market is running too hot or has gone icy cold. It ranges from -100 to 0, where anything below -80 means traders might be catching the ‘fear train’, while above -20? They're clinking champagne glasses on the ‘greed express’. But here's the kicker: this seemingly basic oscillator can turn into an absolute sniper tool for timing your grid trades. Now, don’t you dare roll your eyes. I know what you're thinking—'Great, another oscillator. I already have RSI and MACD fighting for screen space!' But hear me out. The Williams %R isn’t just some wallflower indicator; it's a dynamic, contrarian signal provider with enough sass to tell you, "Hey, this trend's getting tired—time to set those grid traps!" Grid Trading: Why It’s Like Running a Lemonade Stand on a Busy Street Grid trading—the beloved strategy of systematically placing buy and sell orders at set intervals—is like having a lemonade stand that profits from every passing person, whether they’re walking up the hill or rolling down the other side. The idea here? You catch a little profit from both small waves and massive price swings, keeping you in action regardless of market mood swings. To break it down simply, grid trading capitalizes on normal market fluctuation. Picture this: it’s like putting out lemonade stands at every five feet on a beach—whenever a thirsty person walks by, there’s profit to be made. Except instead of lemonade, you’re selling entries and exits to Mr. Market, and he’s always thirsty. The beauty is in the automated simplicity. Set your grids, let the orders place themselves, and avoid that emotional rollercoaster ride of, "Should I hold? Should I sell? Is it time to scream yet?!" Combining Williams %R with Grid Trading: How to Serve Your Profits Over Ice Okay, here's where the magic happens. Williams %R, with its knack for identifying overbought and oversold levels, can be the perfect ally to trigger your grid entries. Imagine you’re using Williams %R to confirm whether the market’s exhausted—if %R tells you the party’s gone too wild, you place your grids accordingly, ready to catch the moves when the crowd sobers up. Think of Williams %R as that friend who gives you a knowing nod at a party—the one that signals, "It's time to take some chips before everyone else realizes they’re gone." In the case of trading, it’s letting you know when the price action has reached its extreme, perfect for either locking in grid profits or preparing for a reversal. In practice, this combo works by waiting until Williams %R dips into the oversold zone (below -80). If you have an upward grid set up, this is your green light—prices are low, the market is weary, and it’s time to start buying some grids. When %R pushes up above -20, your sell grid can kick into action, profiting from the market’s overzealous move higher. Most Traders Get It Wrong: Here's How You Can Avoid the Blunders You might think this strategy sounds too good to be true. Honestly, most traders who attempt grid trading blow it by either refusing to incorporate a momentum indicator or going at it without a method for confirmation. And let’s not sugarcoat it—those traders are like trying to find a bargain on a full-priced luxury item; they think they’re getting a steal, but they’re just outclassed. By using Williams %R as a filter, you're adding that little boost of validation that keeps your grids from getting caught on the wrong side of a trend. Many traders ignore %R because, on the surface, it’s as simplistic as choosing between buying expensive concert tickets or saving for groceries—but that’s why they end up missing out. The Hidden Edge: Timing Your Entries and Exits Like a Pro Here’s an unconventional tip—don’t rely on Williams %R simply as a one-off signal to enter a position. Instead, think of it as a heads-up display. When it enters oversold, wait to see if price begins bouncing—you’ll want a slight sign of market stabilization before going ham on those grid buy orders. When it enters overbought, don’t sell instantly—give the market room to peak and turn, like waiting for the encore at a concert before deciding to leave. Timing isn’t just key here; it’s the entire padlock. Markets are notoriously good at acting exhausted before sprinting another mile, so use your Williams %R as a companion, not a one-time signal. Ninja Tactics for Mastering the Combo - Catch the Consolidation: One of the most successful approaches to grid trading with Williams %R is focusing on tight consolidation ranges. When Williams %R hangs around the -50 midpoint and fails to give extreme readings, the price often ranges—perfect conditions for grid placement. - Turn Reversals into Cash Registers: If Williams %R moves from oversold to overbought swiftly, you’re likely in for a reversal soon. Use this moment to set sell grids just above the current price and profit from the retreat. - Adapt Your Grid Intervals: Not every price movement is equal, and Williams %R helps you spot whether volatility is rising or falling. Tighten your grids in quieter conditions and widen them when the market decides to get rambunctious. Real Traders, Real Results: A Case Study Take it from a recent example in the Forex community. Jessica W., a mid-level trader, made waves when she shared her Williams %R + Grid combo results in late 2023. By identifying extreme %R zones on GBP/USD and setting grids accordingly, she profited off consolidation movements during highly volatile weeks. Her results? A 12% account growth in just three months, all by following simple, effective confirmations with %R. As she put it, "It was like setting up a garden and watching the fruits sprout without having to pull out the weeds every hour." Now that’s some motivational garden talk. Why This Williams %R and Grid Trading Combo Could Be a Game-Changer for You Williams %R is perfect for pinpointing those moments when the market's gone a bit crazy, and grid trading helps profit from those moments of reflection afterward—when Mr. Market remembers he’s had too many martinis and starts walking a straighter line. This is about being there when everyone else is either overcommitted or too scared to enter. Remember, it’s not about timing the market perfectly—it’s about leveraging the edge that indicators like Williams %R give you, combined with a grid that’s ready to catch profits at multiple price levels. It’s as if you’ve got a safety net waiting for all those market acrobatics. Whether prices jump, fall, or do a triple backflip, you’re cashing in. Wrap Up: Are You Ready to Set the Grids and Dominate? At the end of the day, Williams %R and Grid Trading could be your trading match made in heaven—if you let them. These two underrated gems, working together, are like peanut butter and jelly, sneakers and laces, or that wonderful feeling when your favorite song comes on during a long drive. If you’re tired of relying on just gut feelings and want to add a little precision to your trades, give this method a try. And don’t be afraid to laugh at your mistakes along the way—just like that time you bought a pair of shoes in a color that looked fabulous on the shelf, only to realize you never had the outfit to match. Trading’s no different—sometimes you buy the wrong thing, but a good strategy (like these grids) keeps you stepping in the right direction overall. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

[othcrworlds]

the unexpected turn that this interaction took was altering her perception of time. how long had they been in that strange room? how long had she been on her knees for him? did it even matter? perhaps the spirits in her system could’ve been contributing to the haze, or perhaps ale himself retained the ability to redirect father time’s pointed finger. paloma wouldn’t have put it past him to possess that sort of unearthly capability; after all, he was manipulating her senses like they were little more than children’s toys, and that was nothing short of a miracle. had she not already been on her knees for him, the power of his evident desire for her would’ve been more than sufficient to knock her off her pain-inducing heels. the realization stirs not only a multilayered surprise within her, but a looming weariness, as well. his fire was intimidating, but more so than that, it elicited a fright — akin to that which might’ve been created by staring down into a darkened abyss. into the unknown. never before had she experienced this level of heightened lust directed at herself, rendering her devoid of the tools she could’ve used to respond to it. whilst she was accustomed to other dancers coveting her abilities or select parts of her body (objectification was practically a pastime in the studio, as natural as breaking in her pointe shoes), being wanted like this would take some adjustment.

luckily for her, she wasn’t provided much time to overanalyze her rolodex of possible response to his lust. she watched as one of his hands disappeared, only to reappear behind her head and secure itself into her platinum locks. no sooner did the tug of her hair make her scalp tingle than his cock pushed its way past her rosebud lips. his taste flooded her mouth like life-saving water would’ve after wandering around in a hellish drought, spreading across her tastebuds fluidly and encapsulating the entirety of her system from the inside out. the initial shock of such a bold move began wearing off almost as quickly as it layered itself over her. as if programmed to do so, she instinctively began attempting to take as much of him in as possible, feeling the intricacy of the veins artfully mapped across his length brush against her tongue as his girth held her jaw pried apart. in that moment, she was purely driven by a devastating, addicting need for more. the feeling was pitiful in a way, dwindling her down to nothing more than a glutton, but she was far too dazed to dwell on the complexities of her current compromising position. as she explored him with her tongue, she could feel herself quickly ruining the lacy pair of power blue panties she’d picked out for the evening. for a sobering moment, she located a sense of self-hatred aimed at her body for betraying her convictions like this, but her mind already beat her at that useless game long ago. it didn’t matter anymore. not in that moment, at least. one of her hands slowly reached out and centered itself around the part of his length that her mouth hadn’t devoured yet, not wanting any part of him to feel left out

she briefly wondered if she should’ve fed into the fantasy that rolled off his lips. perhaps that would’ve heightened the mood or tugged them deeper into the forbidden, blooming garden that they were treading through together. her mind had been so utterly scrambled by both the adrenaline of the exchange and now his taste filling her mouth that the truth shot through her briefly unoccupied lips, unable to be contorted into some sort of cheeky play-along. “ i would barely know, i haven’t spent much time down there, ” she admitted, hues briefly blinking up at him through her thick lashes to gauge his response to that confession. would he believe her? would he have any reason to? she had cited every excuse possible to mando as to why she was incapable of using her mouth on him, the most recent reason being horrendous jaw pain. whilst it wasn’t exactly a lie — virtually every part of her body ached at times, including her jaw — she certainly could’ve pushed past any sort of pain to clear the pathway for actualizing her desire. her mind had been quite literally rewired for this selective attention to her body’s responses: the practice was essential for success in her domain, after all.

as if pulled back in by a magnetic force, her lips once again trailed against his hardness, grazing the glossy mess that she’d created. “ i could spend forever here though, ” she breathed. her naughty words caught her off guard in that moment and caused her cheeks to flood with a crimson heat that threatened to boil her alive. whilst she couldn’t shove those words back into her mouth, she could stuff herself with his cock again in a vain attempt to mask her embarrassment. exploratory lips trailed back down to his tip, where upon they sucked him back within her plush warmth. his throbbing against her tongue pulled a moan from deep within her core, sound reverberating against his shaft much not unlike the rhythmic playlist rolling out beyond their closed doors and rocking the insides of the residence. whilst she was still determined to swallow all of him, she was quickly realizing that she had to pace herself. her hand not stroking the upper half of his cock rested against one of his thighs, as if to steady herself. every graceful bob of her head brought her that much closer to her goal, a little more of his length disappearing behind her lips with each descent.

alejandro’s heart thundered in his chest as he took in the sight before him—paloma, kneeling with an air of elegance only she could command, her lips parted and her dark eyes fixed on his. the intensity of her gaze sent a shiver through him, a current of both power and vulnerability that took hold of his senses and refused to let go. she wasn’t just submitting; she was participating, leaning into the forbidden allure of what they were doing, and that realization hit him harder than he’d anticipated. for alejandro, this wasn’t just about lust anymore. it was more than the ache coursing through his body or the need to feel her warmth surrounding him. this was about claiming something that had always felt out of reach, something that had tempted him for far too long. paloma wasn’t just any woman—she was a mystery, a storm, a blend of grace and rebellion that left him captivated. and now, she was here, gazing up at him with a mixture of curiosity and desire that drove him to the brink of madness. her beauty wasn’t just in her physical form—though her high arches, delicate frame, and dancer’s poise were undeniably breathtaking. no, it was the way she carried herself, the quiet strength in her submission, the way her vulnerability still somehow radiated power. alejandro had always known she was a temptation, but seeing her like this, lips parted and tongue practically aching to taste him, made him realize just how deep his need for her ran.

his erection throbbed painfully, the pulse of it matching the rapid beat of his heart as he stroked himself slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. the way she had held herself back, keeping her hands obediently in her lap despite the obvious temptation to reach for him, sent a dark thrill through him. she was waiting—waiting for him to take the lead, to command her, to guide her through this moment they both knew would change everything. “you’re perfect like this,” he murmured, his voice rough with arousal and emotion. his free hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of platinum hair from her face before letting his fingers trail down her cheek. “do you know how long i’ve wanted this? how long i’ve wanted you?” his words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, as his hand returned to her chin, tilting her face upward. her lips, glistening and inviting, hovered just inches from him, and the anticipation was almost unbearable.

alejandro’s breath hitched as he slowly guided himself past paloma’s parted lips, her warm, wet mouth wrapping around him with a heat that sent a jolt of pure electricity through his body. the sensation was almost overwhelming, the combination of her soft tongue teasing against him and the lingering high from the powder he’d just snorted making his head spin. his chest rose and fell heavily as he let out a guttural moan, his head falling back in pure, unrestrained pleasure. "yes!" the tension that had been coiling inside him for so long unraveled all at once, his control slipping with each inch he eased past her lips. he pushed himself halfway, careful not to overwhelm her but unable to resist the primal urge to keep going, to lose himself completely in the bliss she was giving him. her submission was intoxicating, the sight of her on her knees, her lips around him, her dark eyes looking up with a mix of obedience and curiosity, driving him further into the haze of his desire. one of his hands moved instinctively to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, gripping it firmly—not to hurt, but to hold her in place, to remind her that she was his in this moment. his touch was possessive, a reflection of the emotions swirling inside him: lust, dominance, and an unrelenting need to claim every inch of her. "oh, fuck!" alejandro looked down at her, his eyes dark with hunger as his fingers tightened in her hair, tugging her head gently but insistently closer. “you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “just like i knew you would.” the rhythm was slow at first, deliberate, giving her time to adjust, though every nerve in his body screamed for him to take more, to go deeper, to give in completely.

“just like that, paloma,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a growl. “take all of me.” the words were both a command and a plea, his grip on her hair tightening slightly as he pushed her just a little further, his body trembling with the effort of holding back the full force of his need. alejandro’s dark eyes burned with intensity as he slowly pushed more of himself past paloma’s lips, reveling in the wet heat that enveloped him. every inch felt like torture and ecstasy combined, his fingers tightening in her hair to keep her exactly where he wanted her. the control, the power, and the connection in that moment made his breath hitch, his jaw clenching as he tried to pace himself. “tell me something,” he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with a sharp edge. he pushed forward just slightly, his length pressing deeper into her mouth as he held her firmly in place, his hips stilling for a moment. "does he taste as good as i do?" the words hung in the air like a challenge, a taunt designed to provoke her. alejandro’s free hand cupped her cheek briefly, his thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth as he waited, his arousal throbbing against her tongue in anticipation. “go on,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “let me feel your answer.” he leaned his head back slightly, eyes closing for a brief moment as he imagined the vibrations of her response, the sound reverberating against his length, sending a fresh wave of pleasure straight through him. the idea of her submission combined with her reluctant confession only heightened his desire, making it nearly impossible to hold himself back.

[ifancyharry]

Vanilla body wash

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drugs, ex boyfriend!Harry

Word count: 2.7k

Hi!!! here's a quick angsty Harry, my favorite Harry ;) lmk what you think, my ask's always open to talk <3

YN was getting ready for bed in her bathroom as she heard her phone go off; the sound of the personalized ringer sent a chill throughout her body, she hadn’t heard that sound in months. It was a nice tune, before, but now everything she was able to think about when she heard the song was Harry’s green eyes filled with tears and her chest heavy with pain.

As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she cursed herself for not blocking the contact as she meant to do in the past. She’d never gotten around to it, always somehow worried about him. She had never been a worrier, throughout the length of their relationship, but things had changed in the end, and she was left with sleepless nights staring up at her ceiling as she waited for him to come back home. He was always wasted when he came home, and somehow she had to keep that in mind as she stayed in the bathroom, leaving her phone to ring in her room. 

She knew he wouldn’t hang up until the very last ring, and she eyed her reflected self sadly in the mirror. She wished things were different. She sometimes wishes she’d never even met him. 

She sighed once the phone stopped ringing, and proceed to go on with her skincare. Rubbing the moisturizer onto her skin, she gave herself a gentle massage as she tried to ease her nerves. It had been a long week, and his call had awoken something in her. She didn’t know what that feeling was, she thought it was mostly pity. Not for Harry. She never pitied him, he seemed to be living his best life from what she could gather from twitter. She pitied herself. Perhaps for putting up with him. Or perhaps for missing him still. 

Nights were the worsts, it’s when she would start missing him so much she couldn’t sleep and she had to go to class the next morning feeling nauseous and with her head throbbing with a painful migraine. 

Once she’s finished, she closes the moisturizer bottle and puts it back in its place behind the mirror. She was walking towards her bedroom when she heard a pair of keys rattling in the front door. She clutched her hands in two fists as she really hoped it was just her neighbor trying to open the wrong door. 

It’s wasn’t her neighbor. 

She walked through her hallway, getting closer to the front door. Much to her dismay, when the door opened wide, she saw Harry’s slouched figure, his head lowered to the ground as he studied his shoes. 

She wanted to scream at him, but tried to control her voice as she said: “Harry, we agreed you wouldn’t do that.” 

She knew she should’ve changed the lock immediately after they’d broke up, but she honestly couldn’t afford it, money wise and time wise, seeing as exams were taking up most of her time.

Harry let his body fall against the opposite wall behind him, probably to stabilize himself, and looked at her with his head against the wall. A couple of strands of his messy hair fell in his eyes but he didn’t bother pushing them back. 

“Let me in” he whispered, closing his eyes.

She sighed as she watched him; even from where she was standing she knew he wasn’t sober. She didn’t know whether he was drunk or high. She figured perhaps it could be even both.  

She couldn’t find it in herself to send him away, not in this state. She nodded softly, but soon realized he still had his eyes closed, so she muttered a small ‘mmh’ and let him in.

Harry seemed way too comfortable in her flat, walking casually towards her couch and sitting on it, as if nothing had changed. As if they were still a they. He didn’t wait for her to tell him to sit, he took the matter in his own hands. 

His presence brought a familiar and cozy feeling to her house she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she could’ve sworn she could feel the air in her apartment getting warmer, as if someone had suddenly closed a window she didn’t even know was open.

“I’ll get you some water.” She said, walking towards the sink and opening the faucet to let the water run. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet to the left and filled it. 

She then walked back to him. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. 

“Here” she stretched her arm, showing the glass in front of his face, but Harry shrugged It off his face with his hand, a small amount of water spilling from the glass and falling on both him and the couch. 

“i don’t want that” he scrunched his nose and shook his head swiftly. 

She muttered an okay to herself and sat on the coffee table, so she could be at least face to face with him. Harry had his legs opened and hers fit in the space between them. She made sure they weren’t touching. 

Harry raised his head from the edge of the couch and looked at her, a spaced out look on his face. It was the first time in months they locked eyes and she felt even more light headed than she was already feeling. Not only because she missed his eyes, but also because of the size of his pupils. The sparkly green of his eyes she loved so much was barely visible, taken up by the black of his blown out pupil. 

“What did you take?” She asked, her voice soft like velvet. She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“Just some coke”.

She took a big sigh that didn’t go unnoticed by him: “YN, it’s fine. I’m not touring right now so it’s fine.” 

“You know I don’t care about that.” She didn’t have to say anything more. 

They had this conversation enough times for Harry to understand what she meant; she didn’t care if Harry only did drugs when he wasn’t working, she didn’t want him to do drugs ever.

Harry rolled his eyes at her and rested his head back on the edge of the couch, turning it sideways so he wasn’t looking at her. After some seconds, though, he crossed his arms on his chest and curled his lips in a smirk: “so you’re still worried about me, huh?” 

“Harry” she warned him. She wasn’t in the mood to joke around; of course she still worried about him, but she worried for all the wrong reasons.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He now was giving her his full attention, eyeing her carefully, and YN suddenly felt naked before him. 

“I didn’t hear it ring.”

“Yeah, right.” Harry scoffed, “you know, for a while I thought you were with him. Had to come and check. Did you sleep with him yet?” 

“That’s none of your business” YN replied bitterly, Harry could really be an asshole when he wanted.

She wasn’t sure who told him she was seeing someone, but she figured he probably saw some pictures intrusive fans took when they were hanging out. It wasn’t anything serious, and she was planning on ending it sooner or later, but she obviously wasn’t about to tell Harry that. He didn’t have to know what you were doing anymore. 

“It used to be” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, used to.” She muttered, more to herself really. She was growing more and more unease under his scrutinizing gaze, and she had to remind herself she wasn’t doing anything wrong. If she wanted to sleep with someone else, she could. She didn’t owe anything to Harry.

“You cut your hair”, he said after a while, stretching his arm out in front of him to take a strand of her hair in his hand, “i like it”. He inspected the lock of hair as if he was measuring with his eyes how much she cut, and YN squirmed before him, shrugging his hand off of her hair.

Harry laughed a little at her childish behavior and rested his back back against the couch.

“You know what? Since you’re fine, you should go back to your own house”

He looked amused as she talked, not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face. 

“I can’t drive like this, doll.”

“Don’t call me that.” She scoffed, shaking her head a little. She wrapped her body in her arms to try and soothe herself a bit. He knew what that pet name did to her. He used to call her that every time, and she remembers vividly the first time he used it. She swore she could’ve felt her heart burst from happiness. She smiles sadly at the memory, it was a long time ago anyway.

“Does he call you that? Doll?” He rolled the pet name off his tongue as if it were the most delicious sweet she ever tried, “i bet he calls you something stupid like honey.” 

“Stop that, Harry”

“Where is he anyway? Leaving you all alone in the middle of the night?” 

“Why did you come here?” She stopped him before he could say something else.

“When I realized I couldn’t drive I was near your house.” 

She nodded. In all honesty, she was glad he still had it in him to at least realize when he was too messed up to drive. Sure, she’d preferred if he called a cab or a friend to come and pick him up, but at least he was safe.

“Why didn’t you call a cab?” 

“C’mon, doll, aren’t you happy to see me?”

She sighed: “I’m tired, Harry”, and she wasn’t sure if she meant sleep-tired or heart-tired.

She got up from the coffee table and stood before him, trapped between his open legs. 

“Don’t send me away.” He pleaded, grabbing her wrist with both his hands. 

She felt herself melt at the touch, the warmth radiating from his grip spreading all throughout her body, her limbs, her bones; she hadn’t realized she was cold until he touched her. 

The all too familiar feeling crept back in her heart, and she felt the sudden urge to cry. It had taken her a long time to get rid of him: she washed him carefully from her body every time she showered, she cut her hair so she wouldn’t think about his hands running through them, for weeks after they’d broken up she washed the sheets two times to erase any trace of his perfume lingering on them.

In those six months they were broken up, a lot of things had changed. She went vegan, she started a pilates class, she took her most difficult exam she used to always put off, but somehow the feeling of his soft touch burning her skin hadn’t changed.

She closed her eyes for a brief second before saying: “i’m not. I’ll get you a blanket.”

He nodded before releasing her wrist from his grip, sitting more straight against the couch to give her enough space to move from between his legs.

He followed her with his eyes as she walked towards her bedroom door, disappearing behind it.

Harry found himself thinking about her bedroom and he smiled at the memory of her in her bedroom, whispering soft pleads to his ear while he kissed all over her body.

Without realizing it, he closed his eyes and stayed in that memory for a little while longer. He knew once she came back with the blanket, they’d both go to sleep, and their ways would part all over again. 

“Here” she said once she was back in the room, tossing him the blanket. 

“Aren’t you tucking me in?” Harry joked, smirking at her. She laughed a little when she told him to shut up, and he felt proud of himself for making her laugh.

“Go to sleep, I need to wake up early tomorrow.”

“Yeah? Are you meeting with that bloke?

She rolled her eyes at him: “not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not. It’s nothing serious between us.”

“Damn. You really are a heartbreaker, then. Me first and then him not even six months later?” He raised his eyebrows in a challenging manner and she was left speechless by his hurtful words.

“You’re being unfair, Harry” she shook her head, her voice coming out softer than she wanted to.

“I’m being unfair? You’re the one that broke up with me!” He shouted, pointing his index finger to her.  

She turned her head to the side, avoiding his gaze. “You have no idea how hard it was.”

“What was that? Didn’t hear you, doll.”

She walked towards him, fuming. Her face was red with anger. How dare he. After everything she’d done for him, she couldn’t believe her ears.

“I said you have no idea how hard it was! Waiting for you every night worried something happened to you, watching you hurt yourself over and over again and I couldn’t do anything. You made me feel so small.” She knew she was crying by then, but she didn’t feel ashamed. She had a right to cry. When she had broken up with him, he'd said such mean things to her, he didn’t even let her explain why she was breaking up with him. 

His mischievous mouth had accused her of cheating on him or falling out of love, he didn’t even stop to think how wrong he was.

“You’re so unfair” she repeated, shaking her head. She brought her hands to her face as she sobbed, her fingers pressing on her eyes to try and stop the tears.

Harry got up from the couch, walking cautiously towards where she was standing. She looked so soft like this he felt his heart raise to his throat. The thought of her crying because of him made his stomach turn and he wanted to punch himself for being so cruel to her.

That feeling only grew once he saw her back away from him once he reached her, “don’t be scared, it’s me.”

He took her wrists in his hands and moved her hands away from her face. She looked up at him and then turned her head to the side so she wasn’t facing him.

Harry carefully wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed her closer towards him, once he felt her relax against his chest, he started caressing the back of her head with one hand and her back with the other.

He wanted to say he was sorry, but didn’t know where to start. Should he say sorry for hurting her now, six months ago or when they were still together? 

He pressed harder against her at the thought of hurting her so much. All he ever thought about was his pain, and he never stopped to think about how she was feeling, he figured she was fine, with her new boyfriend she seemed to love so much (at least that’s what he gathered from those pictures he saw on twitter). 

 “I’m sorry” he muttered in her hair, squeezing her a little before letting go. He couldn’t quite get what she was feeling. She was still crying, but her sobs had quieted down a bit, her shoulders shaking every now and then.

He was surprised when he felt her squeeze his shirt in her hands, her fingertips digging in the skin of his shoulders. 

“You used my body wash” was the only thing she said after what felt like forever, looking up at him, still wrapped in his arms.

“What?”

“You used my body wash” she repeated, “my vanilla body wash I always use.”

“Yes.” Harry shrugged, “so I’d always have you with me”. 

She rolled her eyes at him but held onto him tighter, not ready to let go just yet. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you” he murmured, “I promise I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything to make it go away.” 

“Shut up” she said, a small chuckle coming strangled from her throat “you had me at the body wash.” 

[keiarchived]

Freshman Year

stoner!Atsumu x f!innocent!reader x stoner!Suna ft stoner!Osamu

warnings: Drug (weed), gangbang, oral (giving), anal, dubcon, fucking whilst high, university!au, sex tape, cockwarming, corruption kink, sleepy writing

words: 1.8k

To say you were inexperienced, naive and artless, they weren’t wrong. You’re the last person who would cheat on their essay and cause yet another headache to your lecturer. You’re the classic ‘goodie two shoes’ as Atsumu calls you, the same couldn’t be said about both Miya twins and Suna, however.

They are anything but good.

You should’ve listened to those whispers of warnings and rumours that made their way around the campus, how they’re the last people you’d want to get involved with despite their popularity among students. You either love them or hate them, there’s no in-between with valid reasons.

You don’t belong in their world, you know that. But it doesn’t stop Suna from wanting to strip the innocent of you. Maybe it's the way you smiled nervously at him or maybe the glare you gave Atsumu whenever he made those snarky comments, but one thing for sure is that he wants to show you what you’ve been missing.

“Suna...” It almost came out as a whine whilst your head fell back against his shoulder, dark iris swallowing those rings of colours whilst your lips parted delicately with a cute pout. “Hmm? What’s wrong?” He coo, arm resting snuggly and comfortably around your waist as he pulls you even closer to press a kiss on your temple. Chilling at the Miya’s with Suna and his friends has become a regular thing ever since your first proper encounter with him at the party, where your friend ditched you for another guy. Perhaps you should’ve seen through him before accepting his offer to keep your company that night, maybe then you could’ve avoided whatever this is between you and Suna. But would you’ve pushed him away if given the chance?

“Wan’ more...” You whimpered, earning a chuckle from the man as he peppered your cheeks with few more playful kisses before pulling away. “What do you want, princess? C’mon, use your words” Suna love to see it when you’re desperate like this in his arms, staring up at him with those bleary eyes, cheeks flustered and small hands trembling as you grasp at his jacket with wants. “Mmn... smoke... wan’ more of smoke...” You slurred between each hitched breath of yours, feeling a few pairs of eyes glued onto the both of you as Suna leaned closer after taking a drag of his blunt before letting the heavy white smoke slips past your plump lips like weightless velvet. Oh, if only you knew how alluring you are when taking every ounce of the fumes from him greedily. Close enough for both of your lips to slot together, but far away enough for a grin to tug at his lips before pulling away. “Still not used to taking it on your own hm?” Or maybe you just adore these tingles dancing against your skin every time Suna shotguns it to you, as if he’s feeding you his essence in the most sexual way possible.

“Ya babying her too much, Suna. Gonna end up spoiling her.” Atsumu wasn’t wrong, ever since his friend introduced you to an unfamiliar world of ecstasy, he has you wrapped around his fingers like a puppy on a leash. “Why not, jealous Tsumu?” You could barely listen to their conversation as a giggle slipped past your lips, Suna could still remember the time you took your first hit. Trying to copy him only for those bitter smoke tickles your throat, making you cough with tears swelling from your eyes. It was cute though, he praised you for being a good girl, done so well on your first try as he wiped away those tears before wrapping those legs around your waist to give you the fucking of your life and the rest was history.

It was Suna who got you addicted to... him.

“You bet, how come she’s always hanging off your arm when you guys aren’t even together?” Astumu scoffed as shifts from his seat, watching from the opposite sofa with a frown over his defined features. It is unfair really, how you’ve chosen Suna over anyone else. Atsumu would love to slips his arms around you once in a while too, playing with those pretty lips of yours whilst you get drunk of him instead.

Despite no strings attached between you and Suna, shaking your head no as soon as he mumbles softly under his breath, beckoning you to go sit with Atsumu but no — you didn’t want to. “Nnu...Wanna stay...” Instead, your grip tightens on the fabric of his jacket, snuggling further into him until your head is buried at the crook of his neck.

If only you’re sober enough to see the faint but taunting smug smile Suna have stretched across his lips as he shrugged at his friend, guiding you to sit properly on his lap instead with your back facing Atsumu. “Better luck next time.”

God knows how long you’ve been sitting like this, legs folded on either side of Suna’s lap as you rest against his broad shoulder. Pins and needles crawl up your numb legs, shifting with an uncomfortable whine. To think Suna would waste a perfect opportunity like this, you’d be wrong, especially when all if most of his companions are high off their heads to even notice what the two of you’re about to do. “Baby, want my cock?” Suna isn’t subtle about it either, bulge poking at your clothed core. The mention of his cock was enough to have your clouded mind runs wild, grinding against his clothes erection with an eager nod. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve cockwarm Suna in front of other souls like this, Tsumu would shuffle towards the both of your and join in occasionally. Shotgunning you with his own blunt whilst lazily as he jerks off to your moans and tangle bodies. “What happened to the sweet innocent princess we knew?

As the time you spend with Suna and the Miya twins grew, so did your confidence. Becoming more familiar with the substance than you originally were, however. It was naive of you to think you could do this properly on your own without Suna here to keep you out of trouble because you’re a big girl who knows how to take care of herself. But instead, you have taken a pretty big hit, blame Atsumu. It was his idea to lower the amount of tobacco this time around, instead of feeling the familiar high you have with Suna; this is something way stronger.

How did you end up atop of Tsumu with his cock buried deep inside your dripping cunt, you have no idea. Only remembering fragments of things he had said to you prior to this, “Suna aren’t here is he? Shame. Let me be Suna tonight for ya, baby. Ride me inside, bet I could treat ya better than ‘im, c’mon baby, don’t be shy. It’s not like he’s ya boyfrien’ or anythin’.” That’s all you could remember before a snap of Atsumu’s hips snapped you out of your thought, drawing a meal from your lips. “C’mon, baby. Don’t hide that pretty voice from me now.”

Atsumu’s little plan would’ve been a success if it wasn’t for Osamu, consider it payback. Call him selfish if you want, but seeing his twin brother knocking the breath out of your lungs sparks his jealousy. Sure he could’ve joined in easily but what’s the fun in that?

Suna has been stood by the door for a while now, watching as you desperately bounces on Atsumu’s cock and moaning his name between each of those sloppy kisses. But still, that stoic face remained unbothered, maybe a twitch here and there but nothing major, the completely opposite of what Samu thought he would do. After all, despite Suna saying he doesn’t care nor does he wants you, everyone knows how much he cares for you enough to keep you around for as long as he has. Instead, Suna approached the two of you. Yanking your head up those sweaty locks of yours whilst you could barely register the shift in his eyes, “You knew this was gonna happen didn’t you? Just wanted an excuse to fuck Tsumu.”

He wasn’t wrong, both Miya twins shares the same face and it is hared to ignore their handsome features after all.

Osamu was dumbfounded when Suna positioned himself behind you instead, not only did he not have a good go at Tsumu but at the end decide to join too before prepping your rear end the best way he can before inching in, frowning as he does. “Fuck... just as I expected. You’re so fucking, right baby”

Neither one of them paid attention to Samu before Suna caught him palming at his jeans, only then did he come closer with his cock freed with one hand whilst the other holding a phone and hit record. You should see the way your lips parts whenever you’re close or the complete fucked our expression that suits you so well, no worries though; Samu will keep a good record seeing as how well you take all three of them together with Samu’s cock lodge deeply down your throat, stuffing you full with all ends.

At least this time you are not the only one who’s slurring nonsense as you came, Tsumu was the first one to pump you full of his cum first then it was Samu and lastly Suna. Showering you in praises and kisses before the younger Miya twin decides to take up the aftercare duty upon himself since Tsumu has already blacked out and Suna doesn’t look that far off either with the remaining blunt in his hand.

Samu is the gentlest of them all, washing you carefully as though you’re a glass doll. Having you put on one of his shirts and setting you on the kitchen counter whilst he cooks, earning small nods and hums from you whenever he asks you a question. Samu’s surprise you even managed to hold yourself this well before finally crashing against his shoulder, it was a struggle to get you to eat some food and drink some water but he did anyway.

Only for Suna to snatch you away again with a wave of his hand and a pat on his lap, you practically scrambled out from Samu’s arms and into Suna’s chest. Snuggling comfortably against him with a content smile on your face.

At the end of the day, you are Suna’s precious little princess. He’s the one who shown how to roll a joint, how to smoke from a bong and be a little rebellious. The Miyas twins could hook up with you as many times as they want, but he knows you’d be running back to him as soon as it is over.

Tag list: @m-mortimer @selfishwitch @sleepyrintaro @cxnicalsweetheart

[clemswinecorner]

76 and 133 with daniel ricciardo? Thanks in advance <3

"Let me know if you ever need a ride to therapy" [Daniel Ricciardo]

Prompts: "That was embarrassing" “let me know if you ever need a ride to therapy”

Wordcount: 836

Warnings: mentions of being high, drunk and sexual acts but nothing very explicit. Probably swearing, i'm not sure

I got very excited when I got this request!!! First proper Daniel thing (since I didn't know where to start) I've written and I loved the prompts! I could've made this serious or angsty but since you requested daniel... This type of context immediately came to mind, I read them and was like "oh that's very Daniel like that" lol, lmk if you'd like one that's more angsty cause I'm definitely up for that! (Maybe I'll do it either way) Sorry it took a while! School and everything :( Let me know what you think! i have an idea for part 2, lmk if you’d want that!

Masterlist!

You didn’t mean to walk into Daniel’s room. Especially not when he probably barely knows your name and he’s wearing a shirt he hasn’t pulled over his shoulders, boxers, socks and headphones, doing the "we're all in this together" dance from the first high school musical soundtrack. You realise you’d been standing too long the second you realise you know exactly where in the song he is, and turn around to leave. But just your luck, he turns around as you’re about to close the door.

The both of you freeze for a minute, staring at each other before Daniel breaks and bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry I should’ve locked the door. I’m so sorry you had to see that. Have to see this. I don’t know. I’m a terrible dancer I know," He immediately apologizes and cracks a joke to ease the tension, his personality a perfect copy of the Daniel you know from interviews and videos. "No, no it’s my fault, I walked into the wrong room," You say while you cover your face with your hands, also laughing at the situation. "You’re also the person I accidentally hit right? Sorry, didn’t mean to do that," You laugh at the apology he tries to get out while laughing and putting on his shirt properly and think back to that moment in an interview a while ago. He was getting really animated explaining something, accidentally hitting you as you and Max walked past. "Yeah, it’s okay, you were really invested. Looks like you were right now as well…" He lightly blushes. "Please don’t ever bring that up to anyone. Sorry if that was traumatising. Wait, did I give you another trauma before? I feel like I did but I can’t remember. Where have I seen you outside the track?" He finally has recovered a little and finally takes a proper look at you. "I think I’ve seen you in Monaco before. I’m friends with Max," you say, vaguely remembering an embarrassing moment happening (which caused you to never talk to him) but you were not completely sober, so you cannot remember what it was. "OH! You walked in on me hooking up with someone in Max’ bed. And I believe you walked into me, uhm entertaining myself," he says even more embarrassed than before. He covers his face in embarrassment, but his familiar smile is still there. "Yeah, I think that was it. Ohmygod yeah I did, I was high off my ass when I walked in on you. And not completely sober in Monaco, but I have a vague memory of that. We’ve had our fair share of walk-ins, I guess," You say as the mention slowly brings up some memories. "I’m really sorry you had to see all that. And today. Must’ve been really traumatising to meet your friends’ teammate that way. It was back when I was teammates with Max, right?" He asks and you nod. "I’m sorry about that," He apologizes, still laughing a bit from everything. "I realised we never got introduced other than these embarrassing moments, I’m Daniel which you probably already knew," He says, putting his hand in front of you and you shake it. "Y/N. Good friend of Max, decent friend of Lando and other Max. I have these weird moments where I keep catching Daniel Ricciardo in weird situations. Like him doing the entire "we’re all in this together" dance with headphones on wearing boxers and half a shirt," you say and he scratches his head, signature smile on his face as always. "Yeah, that was embarrassing. What’d you need anyways?" He asks, reminding me of the purpose of your visit. "Oh uh, I actually came in to grab one of Lando’s extra coats, but I guess I’m in the wrong room for that," You tell him and he nods towards a small closet. "You can take one of mine, same team anyways. Saves time and exercise," He says sliding open the door and grabbing one. "Thank you," you smile at him, and he gets to properly look at you. You look beautiful, and that’s the best smile he’s ever seen on someone. "I should get back now. It was nice to meet you, Daniel, thanks for the jacket," You say before you step back towards the door. "Yeah, you too. Sorry about what you saw," He says with his signature smile. You chuckle. "Compared to what I’ve seen before, it’s not that bad.I’ll see you some time, Daniel," he laughs at your response. "Yeah. Let me know if you ever need a ride to therapy by the way," he says and you chuckle before walking out. "I’ll text you if I ever need to take you up on that offer," You smile as you turn around. "You don’t have my number!" He says as you start walking away through the hallway. "I have my ways," you say, looking back at him one more time before returning to your friends.

I have a Taglist! Check it out to be added.

[xgoldxnhour]

There’s a knowing glint at the song he chooses, one that favors winter socks and wooden spoons for a microphone. It’s a wondrous reminder that she has found someone who knows her so mortally to the point his very breath rattles her bones. Her gaze falls to his chest as lungs release that unknowingly held breath, the tension loosening of his shoulders. It’s perhaps that the young blonde knows him just as deeply too. They’re both a marionette, pulled by each other’s fingers, and yet as free as one could ever be with someone. Which is why it’s so difficult seeing him this way.

The stress put on the department is palpable, hell, more than half of them drag their feet through these doors just to sleep at night. What this person—this sadistic, putrid fuck—is doing to this town is abhorrent. Yes, there’s been accidents before or even suicides, the occasional runaway or a dumb kids thinking they can shop lift. Redwood had their sum of problems that kept the Sheriff busy—but this—this case is gut-wrenching and has done nothing but scare good people. The town is at a standstill. People lock their doors (which they always should’ve but historically had no reason to), they close up shop before dark or shut down altogether. Saying they’re spooked is putting it lightly. Lately, some patrons have been saying perhaps El shouldn’t be open this late at night or at least not by herself and despite never considering herself a paranoid person, the thought does cross her mind. Which is why most nights are spent together, either picking her up from work or driving Sam home when he’s not quite sober enough to drive himself. In a world that only knows fear, and a community that’s beginning to understand that reality, it’s nice to have someone to home to. Someone who makes you forget what the hell there is to be scared about. And that’s Sam.

So, as he beckons her forward and arms wrap around his neck, they fall into a comfortable slow step. It’s practically just moving side to side, but anything more might make anyone’s sea legs lose themselves. El chuckles at his mention of his shirt, looking down only briefly as she almost forgot she was wearing it. “What’s mine is yours, right?” There’s a pause and a mischievous look. “But, technically yes, I actually missed laundry day.” Her apartment doesn’t have a washer and dryer and the laundromat could now be considered a ghost town with everything that’s been going on. El sometimes will go visit a friend to use theirs or just hand wash it herself. Her bathroom is now lined with wet clothes hanging to dry and come to find, it takes a little bit more than a dryer would.

Their moves slow a bit more as foreheads press together, holding foundation to steady movements. His skin is so warm against hers and she relishes in its touch. “I missed you too.” Their voices are now a whisper though the place is mainly empty besides a couple of stragglers paying all their attention on the silent sports game in the background, talking amongst themselves or are already asleep at the counter.

And when he finally confesses the obvious strain and trouble on his mind, her lips purse and eyes nearly water toward something far more loving and sympathetic than its teasing predecessor. Her tongue clicks before she speaks. “I’m sorry, baby. I can’t even imagine.” Fingers stretch slowly as they glide at the nape of his neck and into his hair. “It ain’t gonna be bad forever. You’re doing all that you can—and we all see that and I know that you’ll catch the guy.” There’s other words or names that feel more appropriate than just ‘the guy’, but El is attempting to be somewhat ladylike.

One hand glides down to hold his chest, rubbing softly where his heart is. “But it doesn’t mean you have to carry it all alone, Sam.”

“Y’know what I like.”

Oh, how her smile never wavers. Despite the dread that now lingers drinks this town dry, somehow the le Roux girl has managed to keep some semblance of false hope. Someone’s got to—though obviously it’s easiest in the presence of her favorite person of the world.

Her head tilts in sympathy, shoulders ready to hold the burden that this town has strung around its Sheriff’s neck. Redwood used to be a sleeper town—you’re born here and ya die well after a long, simple life, buried in the same place as the last generation.

It’s moments like this where she’s glad her brother got out of dodge with that grifter mindset of his. It’s given her a lot of grief in the past but perhaps it was for the better. Sam hasn’t talked much about cases lately, here or at home, so El knows how much it’s shaken him.

She stands at the bar with another pour of his glass, happy to play designated driver later. Curls splayed across her shoulders and down some, a few tangles inevitable. And to no one’s knowledge beside the two of them, she wears one of his plaid shirts tied at the waist. Usually she jokes that she missed laundry day and just needed something, but lined in the real truth that she simply likes the smell that lingers past bed sheets and the breakfast table.

“I think there’s still a dance available to cash in.” It’s such a casual offer, completely open for a decline if the mood was too sullen. But perhaps it was the exact distraction they both needed. She just wanted him to know that she’s here and he’s loved. Always.

[pradaksj]

Safety Net || part one. (m.)

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. 

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader 

❧ genre⟶  enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, fluff, angst, pining, eventual smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series. 

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ mentions of oral and sex but nothing explicit or descriptive. fight scene that involves drunk man. mentions of bullying (in the past). 

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n (please read) ⟶ this story switches a lot from past & present, I color coded borders to make it easier to tell :) dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple= present, also this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes 😭 ill come back to edit a lot of things soon. 

01 | 02 

“Oh perfect, y/n!” Hobi stops you dead in your tracks before you could completely make your way onto the living room, “You don’t mind grabbing some more firewood from my car while I finish these up,” he says, currently too busy melting the chocolate for the s’mores he was making.

You see tonight was New Year’s Eve, and you and a couple of other close friends had decided to rent out a cabin in celebration of the new year instead of going out to some end of the year party, choosing comfort over a night of wild drinking. In the end it didn’t make much of a difference, because the moment you saw Jimin and Taehyung walk in with a pack of soju and other cheap liquor in their hands, you knew that by the end of the night someone, if not everyone, was going to end up completely wasted.

And of course, you were right. After hours of being outside in the cold, with the boys drinking as if there was no tomorrow, everyone had now made their way back inside, complaining that it was too cold outside and that the cabin came with an indoor fireplace for a reason.

Never one to drink too heavy, you had kept your drinking at a moderate pace, only allowing yourself to reach a relaxed kind of buzz. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand were currently debating on whether the US’s landing of the moon was nothing more than a fake ploy to beat Russia and was instead filmed on some movie set. 

Jin and his girlfriend acted as measly facilitators between the two men who had been bickering back and forth for the past hour, their slurred speeches making it difficult to take either one seriously. 

Jimin, for his part, had attempted to keep his drinking at a minimal but with Taehyung acting as his partner in crime, the two were now playing an unbalanced game of ping-pong, both of them looking as if at any moment they were going to knock out on the table. And Jungkook was— well where the hell was Jungkook?

But before you could dwell too much on the thought, Hobi’s voice snaps you back to reality, “pleaseeee, I’ll even add an extra chocolate square to your s’more, just like how always like em,” he flashes you a smile, your roommate of 3, going on 4, years knowing just what to say to convince you, not that you needed much of it. 

Minus Hobi, you were probably the person closest to being sober, and you did not want to imagine the different disastrous scenarios that would happen if he sent anyone who wasn’t yourself out there. You also highly doubted any of them would even be up for it, and so with that you just let out a small groan, mumbling, “Where are your keys?”

Excitedly he points to the kitchen island, where his Hyundai’s keys laid across, “I parked right near the lake,” he says, immediately causing you to look back at him, brows furrowed in confusion, “No one wanted to carry the wood from here to the bonfire earlier, so I just parked near the lake to save our energy,” you roll your eyes, “Come on, it’s just a 2 minute walk at most, and I’m sure there’s still people celebrating across the lake as well so you don’t feel so scared, but if you want I can ask Jungkook to go wi—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—” you interrupt, grabbing the keys and beginning to make your way out, quickly putting on your coat because God knew how cold it was outside. “He’s probably asleep already, knowing him,” you chuckle, the boy who Hobi had introduced you to in the last year and had been living with you two as well, had habit’s that were all too predictable by now. And though you knew he’d be more than glad to get up from bed and help, for now at least, you wanted him to rest as he, himself, was probably tired from carrying things back and forth all day in the help of preparing everything. “I’ll be quick,” you say.

“Make sure that no wooden splinter cuts you,” he shouts out before the wooden door closes, having been the victim to such cuts all day, “and call me if you find it too heavy!”

Beep. Beep.

Double clicking the lock button, you grunt as you try to simultaneously carry the uneven pieces of firewood and place Hobi’s keys back into your jacket’s pocket.

“Oh my God—” you mumble to yourself, frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the keys. The wood was now slipping from your hands, its gritty texture eager to leave you a cut and as predicted it does. 

Wincing in pain, you uncaringly drop the pieces of wood, worried more about the cut on your hand than what had fallen on the ground below. Luckily the cut wasn’t too bad, nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix, but the tingly sting in your hand meant that you’d have to wait a while before picking the wooden pieces back up.

Around you, you could hear the sound of different groups of friends and family celebrating with their own events, spotting different bonfires all around the lake. Glancing at the time on your phone, it currently read 11:00, only one more hour until the new year. A part of you was tempted to walk further down the path that led to the lake’s shore. Maybe even secretly wait so that you could watch the fireworks these groups of people most likely had shoot up into the sky at 12. Especially because you knew going back to the cabin, no one would want to come back out with you to watch. Honestly, how bad did they need their wood?

And so by convincing yourself, you begin to walk further towards the lake, careful not to trip on any of the scattered rocks that surround you. By the time you made it down, you were surprised to see just how far you were from other families, most, if not all, of them being directly across the lake. Honestly you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. 

You didn’t want to seem creepy, but the sight was somewhat comforting, the kids running around in their winter gear while their parents and friends all surrounded their bonfire, sticks and marshmallows in hand.

Not to mention that tonight was a full moon, the milky glow from the moonlight reflecting against the ripples of the lake, and the tiny stars which surrounded the magnet that was the moon only adding to the grand scenery in front of you. Usually you weren’t a sucker for these kinds of things, but wow did it look amazing. The person who’d really enjoy something like this was probably—

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, confused if you were seeing things because there he was, not too far from where you stood, sitting on a giant rock with his feet dangling, careful to not touch the freezing water. His right hand throwing the small pebbles that were near him to the lake. Not too hard, and not too soft. Clearly in his own world. 

A small smile graces your lips, as you watch him continue, the lake not being the only thing the moonlight was hitting. His glimmering doe shaped eyes focused on the view in front of him, and you could only wonder what had him in such deep thought, but instead not wanting to bother, you slowly began to walk back, careful to not to make any loud noises.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

Mentally, you groan at the sound of the branch breaking, hoping that it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

���Y/N?” he says unsurely, his attention snapping towards the sound, squinting while trying to make out your figure from afar. Your tensed shoulders drop in response. Deciding that there wasn’t much you could do, you turn around and walk towards him, feeling a little guilty that you’ve probably interrupted his time alone.

He watches as you make your way towards him, scooting to his left in order to make space for you because unbeknown to you, he was not at all bothered by your presence. In fact, he had just been thinking about you along with a question that had been looming over his head for quite some time. And the fact that you somehow managed to appear in this exact moment, almost as if it was fate, only left him in further awe.

“I thought you were asleep,” you chuckle, gently sitting down on the empty spot next to him, slowly rubbing your slightly cut hands together in an attempt to stay warm.

“I was going to sleep, but,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “and well why waste such a good view by being in bed, am I right?,” he laughs before quickly noticing the fresh scar on your hand, “What happened?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I came to grab some more firewood from Hobi’s car and well long story short, I dropped them and well I got left with this,” you laugh, not taking your tiny injury too seriously.

Opening up your hand to further show him, he carefully examines the pinkish-red scar which was now slightly swollen, sighing in disappointment, “Mm you should’ve gone to go get it disinfected,” he mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he decides that he wasn’t going to lecture you any further, for in the past year he’s learned that even someone as sweet as you, has their own buttons capable of being pushed. 

Having pushed them many, many times before, tonight he just wanted you to feel relaxed and not have to worry about whether he’d say the wrong thing or not. Tonight… well tonight he just wanted for you to seek comfort in his presence, the same way he’d found comfort in yours along the way.

“It doesn’t hurt too much if I’m being honest,” you give him a small reassuring smile, if anything your hands felt more clammy than they did pain. The warm feeling in your chest only expanding to the point where you swore you could feel it at the bottom of your toes. 

Honestly, it was a feeling you found yourself all too familiar with these days, and though you knew what it was, you were also unsure on how to act on it, fearful of ruining the friendship with Jungkook that had gone through several ups and downs this year. And so for you the easiest thing to do was to just avoid thinking about it and avoid talking about it.

But there was no denying that the rush of emotions you’d feel whenever you managed to crack a laugh out of Jungkook to the point where his nose would scrunch so high up that you were sure that those happy days would last forever, or the ticklish butterflies you’d feel in your stomach on movie nights where he’d randomly begin to twirl your hair with his fingers, and the rapid heartbeat you’d feel hitting against your chest after an argument over something so trivial, until of course after several days of the silent treatment, one of you would get over themselves and stubbornly apologize whether it be through words or actions, were nothing but love.

Because even in the good and bad of your friendship, the arguments and the laughs, the tears and the smiles, somehow along the way you had found yourself falling in love with the boy who was nothing more than a stranger a year ago today.

“50 more minutes,” he says under his breath, bringing you back to reality.

Awkwardly you smile, “Yeah…” you breathe, the cold crisp weather causing vapor to come out of your mouth, a sign that you were freezing despite having such a thick sweater on. Jungkook is quick to take notice, offering his own puffy jacket for you to wear, to which you quickly refuse, “Take it, I have a sweater underneath anyway,” he pressures. You find it doubtful that his black cotton turtleneck was going to be sufficient enough for him in this weather. 

You giggle at his sweet gesture, finding it all too endearing, “I’m telling you I’m good,” you laugh, your shivering fingers telling a different story, “Until the clock strikes twelve at least,” you bargain, pushing the sweater in his hand away back towards him, “then I’ll go back to the warm cabin.” 

He looks at you as if unconvinced, but decides to drop it and take your word for it. And if you somehow managed to weasel into staying any longer past 12, then he’d just have to forcefully carry you back to the cabin.

Soon a comfortable silence fills the air, the two of you appreciating not only the view but each other’s presence. How fitting was it that the person you met on New Year’s day last year was going to be the person you ended it with, and begin a whole ‘nother year with.

“Can you believe it’s been one whole year since we’ve met,” he suddenly breaks the silence, almost as if reading your mind. To that you let out a small breathy chuckle, in disbelief yourself. Time had gone both so slow and fast this year, it was fascinating really, how you could be both so aware and unaware that someone’s very own existence was beginning to take such a special place in your heart.

“It feels like,” you pause momentarily, a small gentle smile appearing on your face as you remembered your first encounter with Jungkook, not knowing that it’d only be the beginning to the originally rocky relationship you had with him, “It feels like it was only yesterday.”

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

“Only one hour left until the new year everybody!” the DJ shouts onto his mic and over the blasting music of the party you were currently at, “Make sure you grab that special somebody before the clock strikes 12!”

“You heard him y/n, go grab a special somebody,” Hobi teases, the two of you currently sitting at the bar acting as mere spectators to the group of partygoers that were currently having the time of their life on the dance floor.  

For both you and Hobi, this type of setting was a little… how could you describe it … out of place for the two of you, but after weeks of begging from both Jimin and Taehyung and a little added pressure from Namjoon and Yoongi, the two of you now found yourselves here drinking the final night of 2018 away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you playfully roll your eyes, grabbing the shot glass full of tequila and downing the surprisingly smooth liquor. Hobi follows suit and chugs down his own. A squirmful look on his face following soon after. “Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll find myself dancing just like them,” you laugh, glancing at your group of friends who were currently acting as the life of the party, Jimin busting out what he calls his most “exclusive” moves.

Hobi, unlike him, remains silent which catches your attention. His attention was now on his phone, his face now appearing both red and stressed out. Nosily, you stretch your neck and attempt to peak at what could possibly have your roommate so worried, but Hobi’s quick to catch you. Immediately he pulls his phone towards his chest.

You gasp in dramatic fashion because one, your roommate wasn’t one to keep secrets from you, and two, well you were beginning to feel a little tipsy. “Now what could Jung Hoseok be hiding,” your words come out slightly slurred, a sign that the only thing you should be drinking from this point onward was some water.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he’s quick to respond, back on his phone but this time keeping it out of your reach, his fingers quickly tapping against the glass screen. You could only wonder who it was that had him typing as if his life depended on it.

“Come onnnnn,” you sing, playfully pushing his shoulder, “It can’t be that interesting, considering you don’t do much,” you pout. He looks up from his phone for a moment, but only to shoot you a glare, excusing your teasing with the fact that you were barely holding onto the state of being tipsy and on the brink of being considered drunk.

Hobi’s eyes quickly read the most recent text he’s received, rolling his eyes at whatever it was before sighing in distress, “You really wanna know?” eagerly you nod your head yes, “Well I was hoping he would be here so I could introduce you to him,” he gently shakes his head, clearly disappointed by tonight’s outcome.

“Ooooo who's the special person,” you quirk your brows up and down, but Hobi’s quick to shoot the idea down.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that,” he laughs, “this person is a..” he pauses, trying to look for the best word to describe his relationship with said person, “Mm I guess we can call him a childhood friend,” he hums, “and well he’s been going through a bit of a tough time right now and well long before me and you ever met, he went out of his way to help me and well I think this time it’s only right that I’m there for him.” you tilt your head, slightly confused as to where this was going, “And sooo,” he sings, “I was hoping that by bringing you here and having you in a fun mood, that I could ask if he could stay at our place for a couple of months…”

You remain silent, Hobi’s words processing through your head one by one, an effect of the alcohol currently running through your system, “Only until he gets used to being in Seoul again, and finds some kind of solid ground here of course,” Hobi throws it in, worried that your silence meant rejection.

“Oh…” you mumble, thinking to yourself for a moment. Hobi’s friend huh? Well you and Hobi were like two peas in a pod, meaning whoever was a friend of his, was a friend of yours, point blank. You trusted that whoever this friend was, and whatever predicament they were in, chose to go to Hobi for the sole reason that Hobi was one of, if not the kindest person you’ve ever met, and was one of the very rare kind of people who made sure that whatever it was a person was going through, that they found a way to overcome it. And well you also assume that Hobi was going to take care of this person’s expenses … right?

You smile once you reach a decision, “Of course they can stay Hobi,” you laugh, a little offended that he thought you’d say no, but glad that he asked anyway.

Immediately Hobi breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he got that out of the way, “But he’s using your bathroom, make sure you tell him that!” you throw in, not wanting the order in which you had your things arranged to be touched with.

Hobi laughs in response, “I’ll make sure to tell Jungkook that,” so that was his name, Jungkook. Not too much of a common name in Korea, interesting, you think.

“So when do I get to meet our new temporary roommate?” you ask in eagerness, curiosity a driving force.

Hobi sighs recalling his text from not too long ago, “Well he was supposed to come here and celebrate tonight, giving you two a chance to meet beforehand, but,” he rereads the message on his phone, hoping the three bubbles would pop up at some point before scoffing and ultimately giving up, locking the screen, “I’m not entirely too sure if he’s going to make it.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from the bar stool and stretch out your arms, yawning in turn, “Mm well I guess I’ll just meet him on move in day,” you joke around, glancing at the time on your phone, “but for now I need to go pee before the countdown, there’s only like 10 minutes left,” you exclaim, surprised by how fast the hour had gone by. Hobi nods in response, getting up himself and making his way to the dance floor, joining your group of friends.

And so you begin to walk towards the ladies’ room, humming yourself a tune over the EDM music that was currently close to rupturing your eardrum. How people liked this kind of music was something you’d never understand, but to each their own right? Luckily you weren’t as drunk as you thought you were, the effects of the tequila only acting as something quick and not long lasting. Now in more of a buzzed state than “drunk”.

“MmmMmmMmm,” you hum, pushing the door of the ladies room and making your way into one of the stalls. But what you saw once you opened the restroom stall was … um …. it was safe to say that you were shocked at the sight in front of you. Shocked to the point where you couldn’t even properly react, not even a shriek coming out of your mouth. 

Instead you just stood there, wide eyed, at the sight of a brown haired woman on her knees, with her hair in a messy ponytail giving um … oral … on what you could only describe as a very very handsome man.

Now if you were to ask if he was really all that into it? Well it seemed a bit unclear considering how the two of you were now having a complete stare down, a shocked expression on your face while he had a stoic one on his, until slowly a small smirk began to appear on his face.

He scoffs before saying, “Enjoying the view?” and with that you finally shriek and quickly close the stall dorm, practically running out the door because not only were you embarrassed by the situation that just happened but still in complete shock.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, leaning your head against the wall in an attempt to process what just happened. And once you did, you facepalmed yourself in frustration, mad at the reaction you had because God was that embarrassing. 

You had acted as if you’d never seen, hell, as if you’d never done the dirty with someone, but for some reason walking in on someone receiving their um... pleasure… had you feeling like a kid who didn’t know about the birds and the bees. And his little comment only added salt to the wound, he probably thought you were enjoying the view with how long you had stayed there standing like an idiot!

“Start grabbing your partners everyone because the countdown is happening in exactly three minutes everybody! Three minutes till we enter 2019!” Three minutes?! You had to find your friends quick! Pushing off what happened to the back of your mind, you speed walk back to the main sector of the club, looking through the crowd of people in hopes of finding at least one of your friends.

“Where could he b—Ah!” you impulsively squeal once you spot Hobi along with the rest of your friends, quickly making your way towards them, Hobi spotting you as well.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Hobi asks, but just as you’re about to answer, a voice from behind interrupts.

“I caught traffic, and well parking was a bitch,” the voice, all too familiar, sends a feeling of panic through your body because turning to face the owner of said voice, was just as surprising as the scene you walked in on only moments ago.

“Y/N! This is Jungkook, Jungkook this is Y/N, my roommate I was telling you about,” Hobi shouts over the music, and all you can do is stare at the man in front of you wide eyed. Your mouth slightly agape in shock, while Jungkook on the other hand has a teasing grin on his face, as only the two of you knew what had transpired in the ladies’ restroom. He sticks his hand out for you to shake and you notice the small number of tattoos that cover his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got one minute on the clock! Start saying your goodbyes to 2018, and get ready to say hello to 2019!” The DJ shouts excitedly, lowering the music for the countdown that’s about to begin.

“Earth to Y/N?” Hobi says waving his hand in front of you, having left Jungkook with his hand open for quite some time now.

“Oh,” you say, bringing yourself back to reality and shaking his hand in return, but the moment you do he brings you in for a small friendly hug, “What a small world,” he whispers into your ear, winking at you as he pulls away.

Hobi, unaware of how you two originally met, rolls his eyes, “Hey, hey hey, she’s our roommate not some girl you can go messing around with,” Hobi says, “Now come on you two, there’s only 15 seconds left!” gently he shoves the two of you towards your groups of friends who were now wearing their New Year’s props which included giant sunglasses, feathered boa’s, and more.

“In 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6…” everyone begins to scream the numbers of the countdown, 2018 clearly leaving with a bang, “5,4,3!” you suddenly feel an arm wrap over your shoulder, and like in the movies a part of you expected it to be the man you just met, but thankfully enough it was Jimin who was clearly drunk, excited, and in clear need of catching his balance. But of course that didn’t mean someone didn’t have their eyes on you from afar…

“2, 1! Happy New Year!” The fog machine erupts and the strings of golden confetti begin to fall from the club’s ceiling. Cheers to the New Year.

Clutching your stomachs in laughter, the two of you poke fun at the recollection of that fatal first encounter, “I really walked in on you getting,” you heave in such a way that you’re incapable of completing the sentence, genuine laughter filling the air.

“Hey, you were the one who stood there like you’d never seen a—” playfully you push his shoulder before even he gets the chance to finish his own sentence.

“Like what you see?” you exaggeratingly mimic his voice from that night, lowering your voice by several octaves. He cries out in laughter, tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling cringe at his choice of words from a year ago today. Who did he think he was? “The woman didn’t even bother to look up! Clearly you had her enamored in what she was doing!” you tease, and in response he wraps his arms around you in a playful manner, telling you that he didn’t want to hear any more.

“What even happened when I left?” you ask, curious to know the answer considering you only knew what you did afterwards.

“Well I overheard the DJ yell about the countdown so I had to cut it short, and well we exchanged numbers. I mean it wasn’t at all a drunk hookup or anything, I was sober, she was sober. I think I went out with her once afterward, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “It was just meant to be a one time thing I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head in slight shame and embarrassment. See a year ago, hookups like that were the norm for him, but a year ago he was also nothing like the person he was now. Was it for the better? He’d like to think so.

Shaking your head, you mumble, “To think our relationship would only get worse,” you stare at him accusingly, “no thanks to you!” He stays silent, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“Hey you didn’t make it any easier!” he huffs, “Do you need help with that? What’s that? I don’t think that should be placed there,” he mocks your questions from that day many months ago, move in day.  

“I was just trying to be nice! Make things less awkward, you know?” you feel your cheeks get red, now seeing how pushy you had probably been.

He scoffs, “No you just didn’t want your things invaded with mine,” it was now your turn to stay silent.

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

“I don’t think that should go there,” you whisper to Hobi, watching Jungkook place more of his things around your apartment, secretly hoping it was the last batch. 

This had to at least be your 15th complaint today, but what bothered Jungkook more was that not only wouldn’t you tell it to his face, but they’d be said in such a superficial tone. He didn’t care if you were trying to be “nice”, it sounded fake and prissy and he’d prefer it if you could just shut up for one moment. People like you were just so… annoying, and to think he thought you were cute.

“Do you need help?” your voice interrupts his train of thought, your figure now looming over his shoulder, and attempting to look at the content of his cardboard boxes. Harshly, he closes the flaps, momentarily scowling at you before taking a deep breath and putting on his best face.

“No it’s fine, I’m almost done but thank you though,” he says, now his turn to be superficial.

“Oh well just let me know if you need anything,” you smile, as unbeknownst to Jungkook, you really were just this nice of a person. Yeah, things may still be a little awkward on your part because of what happened on New Years Eve, you of course having to pep talk yourself several times in the mirror this morning, but to you it was important you established some kind of friendship with your new roommate. Even if he wasn’t going to be here for long.

“I’m gonna go get us takeout,” Hobi announces, not only tired but hungry from having helped Jungkook carry his stuff upstairs to the apartment floor all day, because out of all days in the year, today the elevator just had to be out of service. “I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and making his way out. Leaving you and Jungkook to yourselves.

An awkward silence fills the living room air, Jungkook currently taking a small break on the long couch, while you sit on the short one, fidgeting with your fingers. Maybe you should make conversation? It wouldn’t hurt right?  

“So Jungkook,” you begin nervously, he looks up from his phone and places his attention on you, a stoic expression on his face, “um..”, you mentally scold yourself for not already having a question prepared before speaking, “where are you from?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scoffs, “Korea?” he says, as if stating the obvious.

Feeling flustered, you reiterate your question, “No I mean like where did you move from, you know…” your voice lowers at the end.

He sighs before responding, his attention now back on his phone, “I was in the states for a while, but I’m originally from Busan.”

Immediately you light up, seeing this as an opportunity to further the conversation, “Oh I have a friend from there, I don’t know if you met him on New Years, but his name is Jimin!” you excitedly ramble, “He was the one with the dirty blonde hair, black turtleneck, sparkly jac—”

“Yeah I know,” Jungkook rudely interrupts, now getting up from the couch and walking towards his new room, “Let me know when Hobi’s back, yeah? I’m freaking starving,” and with that he enters his room and shuts the door, leaving you slightly taken back.  

“Will do,” you quietly mumble to yourself, a little hurt to say the least by his cold action. Shrugging it off, you excuse it by assuming he was just grumpy. You were sure that he'd be more open to having conversation after settling his things in.

That night after cleaning a couple of your own things, and eating the food Hobi had brought, you remained in bed and on your laptop, Youtube surfing the rest of the night away. That was of course until you heard the sound of your restroom door opening and closing. Right away you get up, already knowing what transpired, but wanting to see the mess that was most likely made with your own two eyes.

Walking into your restroom, you’re immediately hit with the scent of your strawberry shampoo and lavender body wash mixed in with the foggy steam that was created, a result of an extremely hot shower. The sink, a travesty to look at, was spilled with water all over and you did not even want to get started on the “manly” products that were now side to side with yours behind the mirror’s cabinet. Meanwhile, your hair brush was covered in strands of dark brown hair that clearly weren’t yours. But the final straw? Finding the cap of your $100 dollar serum halfly screwed closed with remnants dripping down the bottle.

Shutting the cabinet, you practically stomp out of your restroom and immediately towards Jungkook’s door. Raising your hand to knock, you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. Maybe Hobi didn’t tell him anything about using your restroom. This was only going to be a one time thing until you cleared it out with him.

Gently, you knock on his door, patiently awaiting his response. You could hear the sound of muffled music playing in the background, meaning it was probably much louder inside the room than out. Raising your hand to knock again, the door swings open just as you’re about to tap against the black wooden door. A shirtless Jungkook with your baby blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes?” he smugly says, your cheeks almost an embarrassing shade of crimson. It’s hard to not look at what’s in front of you, but you manage.

“Oh um—” you fluster your words, “um —” you gulp before finding your words again, “I was hoping Hobi had told you about the bathroom situation…but um..I guess he didn’t so um yeah, my bathroom is only for me to us—”

“He did,” he cuts you off,  huffing a small laugh.

“He what?” you asked, unsure of what he was referring to, or at least acting dense about it because you did not want to believe that the shirtless boy in front of you completely disregarded the simple rule he was supposed to follow.

“He told me about the whole bathroom rearrangement, buuuuttt,” he teases, “your restroom has the bigger shower and well add strawberry scented shampoo and lavender body wash into the mix and honestly it was a done deal for me,” he stretches his arms above himself, dramatically yawning, his abdomen stretching out in such a way that the towel on his waist was barely clinging onto its dear life.

“But—But—”

“But what?” he cocks his head to the side, amused by your panicked behavior, “It’s also the closest one to me so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “Well if that’s all you came here for then, goodnight,” he winks at you before turning around and slamming the door once again.

You stand there bewildered by what just happened, your mouth agape in shock. Did that really just happen or? Because if it did then he practically just told you that he didn’t give one single fuck.

Making your way back to your room, you’re unsure on how to feel about everything that just happened because sure you’ve encountered your fair share of rude people before but to live with one was a completely different story. And Jungkook wasn’t only rude, he was the smug kind, the “I know I’m good looking, so I can treat anyone the way I want to because my good looks will let me get away with it,” type of rude. Was it a little specific? Yes. But it’s true. Honestly, it was the type of person you thought only existed in rom-coms but clearly they exist in real life. Jungkook being a prime example of such an attitude.

“Just a couple of months,” you breathe out, throwing yourself onto your bed in exasperation, “until he gets settled down in Seoul,” you repeat Hobi’s words from New Years Eve to yourself, sighing before allowing slumber to sweep over you.  

“So much for a couple of months,” you tease Jungkook, nudging his shoulder a little bit because a year later and he was still your roommate, and ironically it was you and Hobi who practically begged him to stay.

He scrunches his nose, “ I don’t see you complaining.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I’m just kiddinnn,” you sing, “What would I do without your buttermilk pancakes huh?” you grin at him, his eyes rolling playfully in return.

“Is that all you want from me? Pancakes!” he chuckles, “Ah I should’ve known,” he shakes his head. The two of you giggle at each other’s banter, his high pitched laugh truly infectious.

“What do you think y/n and Jungkook from the beginning of 2019 would think of this scene right now?” you ask, knowing the answer.

Jungkook ponders at the question for a moment before letting out a deep breath and answering, “Mm I think they’d have a hard time believing what’s in front of them, at least I would. I think you would be happy to see that your goal in becoming friends with your new roommate worked out just fine. It just took a bit of time was all…”

February 2019.

To say that you were struggling to live with Jungkook would probably be the biggest understatement of the year. From the constant use of your things without permission, to the blatant rude remarks he’d constantly throw at you, to the days where he’d be completely cold to you and the rest of the world, and don’t even let you get started on the constant women he’d bring over. You’d have to invest in some ear plugs soon if it kept going at the rate it was because at this point you knew Jungkook liked it um … rough … so to speak.  

You found yourself asking Hobi, “Has he settled down yet?” wayyyy too often. Sometimes it felt like Jungkook was purposely baiting you to stoop to his level, like as if he was itching to play a game of cat and mouse. And so for you to continuously suck it up and put on a fake smile for him, only made him do more things to bother you. 

He was like a mosquito pestering you at the back of your neck. He wouldn’t stop until he got his fangs, or whatever it was that mosquitos used to bite, into you. For what reason? You truly did not know, for you have been nothing but nice to him since the day he moved in.

You often wondered how Hobi could put up with it, you mean Jungkook wasn’t exactly mean to Hobi, but he did throw remarks and eye rolls here and there. The best way to describe it was that Jungkook was treating you two like punching bags, and a part of you wanted to know why? Not only why, but where? Where is Jungkook from? Why was he in the states? What made him come back? Why can’t he go back to Busan? Does he have family? How does Hobi even know the dude? Why does Jungkook wake up with a stick up his ass every morning? Why was Jungkook angry at the world and when did he decide that he was going to take it out on you two, especially you. Honestly you were unsure if you’d ever get answers to your questions, but it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks when he was gone, right?

Luckily though the only times you really did see Jungkook was on weekends, and even then if you weren’t out doing some nightly festivities then he was. Or while you went grocery shopping he was working out or something, Not to mention that weekdays you worked AM shifts at your job while Jungkook, who had been hooked up with a job at one of the coffee shop’s Hobi managed, worked afternoon to night shifts. 

This meant that whenever you were going to work, Jungkook was catching up on his sleep and vice versa. But occasionally when you two did bump paths, let’s say going to your restroom, he definitely used those opportunities to try and get under your skin. Each and every time, failing to do so.

But today something was different. You weren’t sure if it was because as you were driving to work, coffee spilled onto your shirt at a speed bump because someone stole your favorite coffee thermo which had a securable lid. This then caused you to be 30 minutes late which then resulted in you receiving your first ever official warning. Or maybe it was because you had to not only stay an extra 30 minutes, but an extra hour because someone’s late night hook up the night prior kept you up and completely unfocused. You personally had chosen to go to sleep than stay up and listen to some girl screaming about how much deeper she wanted it while trying to type up your monthly report. And then of course who could forget the cherry on top? Coming back home to that same certain someone, and having to deal with the accusations that you stole his banana milk.

“I didn’t steal anything,” you mumble, warming up the japchae Hobi had left for you on the stove. Jungkook gets up and opens the fridge door, dramatically showing you the empty spot where his banana milk was usually at.

“Well someone did, and Hobi says it wasn’t him and well I trust Hobi so,” Jungkook shrugs, looking at you with a deadpan look on his face. Sadly, Hobi probably asleep already, tired from what you assumed was a long day of work and the thing about Hobi was once he went to sleep there was no waking him up. That boy could sleep through the world ending, “I don’t exactly think it’s beneath you to steal my things…” he says, each one of his words dripping with venom.

You?! Stealing his things?! When he’s the one who's been taking your things left and right?? If he had caught you on any other day, you probably would’ve shrugged his accusations off, hell you might’ve even taken the blame and offer to buy him a new pack. But right now, you could feel your blood almost boiling. How dare he!

“I,” your voice rises, completely ready to go off on the boy, until you hear a door slam, Hobi coming out completely groggy and clearly annoyed.

“Will you two just,” his voice is heavy, sighing in frustration, “Y/N just go and eat in your room,” he says, feeling like a parent to two fighting siblings.

“But—” you’re about to fight your case, until Hobi interrupts.

“Y/N…” he looks at you in despair, his tone a clear indicator that he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t annoyed, he was just tired. You grab your food from the stove, having to pass by Jungkook as you leave the kitchen.

“Was little miss saccharine finally going to pop?” he scoffs, the two of you momentarily having a stare down, until quickly you compose yourself, the fake smile he knew all too well back on your face.

“Goodnight Jungkook,” you say, before making your way back into your room, peeved that Hobi scolded you and not Jungkook, that was until you heard the sound of muffled voices through your closed door. 

If you wanted to get a better listen you were going to have to crack open the door without making a single sound, something that would be embarrassing if you managed to fail. Deciding that you were too nosy for your own good, you thankfully succeed in doing so, their voices sounding much clearer to your ears.    

“You know she’s having a bad day, and yet—” you hear the sound of Hobi flapping his arms in despair, “and yet you still make her your target of the day,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, his voice telling you that he was ready to go on the defense.

“Jungkook let’s not act dense,” Hobi says, “What are we in preschool? You have some crush, and think being mean will get you your way with her?” Hobi accuses, which Jungkook immediately denies.

“She wishes,” he mumbles in return, “I treat her like I treat everyone,” he clarifies, almost sounding proud.

“No you treat her worse,” Hobi adds, “if you’re not giving her some backhanded compliment then you’re completely giving her the cold shoulder. I probably only get half of what she does, and even I’m getting fed up with it, so I could only imagine how she feels,” he sighs, “but Y/N is a very very nice person, and since that first day I met her in till even today, I have never seen her get mad at anyone, but you my friend are,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe it, “well you’re pushing buttons that I’ve never seen pushed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah because her whole act of “I’m miss goody two shoes and can never even hurt a fly” act is such bullshit,” he drops his air quotes, “a grown ass woman acting like telling someone off will add some kind of dent to the image I’m sure has taken her a very long time to build.”

With every word he says, you could feel your stomach drop further and further down. The lump in your throat desperate to be let out. “She probably has you and the rest of the world fooled, but I can see right through it. It’s people like her who will lie to your face, and tell you everything you want to hear because they don’t want to be painted out as some bad guy. And let me tell you people like that are much worse than me because at least I have the balls to tell it like it is to someone’s face rather than protect my own ego, ” he finishes his rant, the veins on his neck faintly popping.

Hobi remains silent for a moment, taking in everything Jungkook said, then pushing his hair back with his hand, an indicator that he was stressed, “Look man, I’m letting you stay here so you can get back on your feet, and because you didn’t want go back to Busan,” he sighs, knowing he’s stepping on broken glass, “I don’t know what happened over there in the states, and I’m not gonna ask about it because I’m sure you’ll talk about it the day you’re ready to,” he pauses, “But what I do know is that you’re right, Y/N does fake her persona from time to time…” you feel your heart drop, while Jungkook’s face goes smug. That is until Hobi continued with what he was saying, “But the same way I’m not gonna ask you about why you came back to Korea a completely cold person, I’m not gonna question why she acts the way it does, especially because it's not hurting anyone.”

“Of course you wo—”

Hobi cuts him off before he can continue, “Let me finish,” he sternly says, his brows knitted, “But as long she keeps letting her feelings build up the way I’m assuming they are, and you keep acting the way you are now then—” he sighs, “There’s going to be a day where the water in the pot is going to boil over and well I don’t wanna be here when it happens,” his presses his lips together, shaking his head at the mere idea, “All I ask for Jungkook is that you try to be a little nicer to her, just for once. I think the two of you would actually be pleasantly surprised at how much in common you have,” Jungkook tries his best to bite his tongue, seeing just how tired his friend looked, “Maybe not even nice to her, just decent. Can you do me that favor?”

Jungkooks lets out a huff of air before silently nodding his head yes, Hobi giving him a small smile in return, “Thanks Jungkook, now I can actually go to sleep instead of hearing you two bicker,” he says before tapping on his shoulder and going back into his room. You, on the other hand, quickly wipe any droplets that fall from your eyes, closing the door before Hobi could notice the crack that was there.

Jungkook sits in the kitchen chair for a while, reflecting on the lecture Hobi just gave him. Hating that the feeling of guilt was beginning to seep in because unlike Hobi, before his little lecture, Jungkook knew that there had been a pair of ears listening in and he knew you could hear every word that came out of his mouth as your little attempt to crack open the door wasn’t as slick as you thought it was ….he just hadn’t cared.

“Just be decent,” Jungkook whispers to himself before turning off the kitchen lights and heading to bed. The two of you lying in your own beds at night, a lot on each other's mind.

“And to think Hobi ended up predicting everything that was going to happen,” Jungkook shakes his head, remembering his friend’s warning to him.

“That’s our Hobi,” you laugh, “always one step ahead, well when he wants to be of course,” you add, a small chuckle coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in response.

“You think he knew what he was doing the whole time?” Jungkook asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in terms of allowing everything to play out, you know? Because if he wanted to he could’ve kicked me out from the beginning…” you ponder on his question for a bit, thinking back to Hobi’s role in this whole tale.

“Mm I think he knew but was probably unsure the whole time, you know? Unsure if things would work out the way he set em up to be, I don’t know if he’ll ever tell us but…” you pause, “I think he knew what he was doing from the moment he told you that you could live with us, and I definitely think it was bullshit on his part when he said that he didn’t know what happened to you in the states,” you laugh because you could picture Hobi doing his own research on Google late at night, “So I guess he just knew that there were two people in his life in desperate need of a…” you look for the right word to describe it.

“Reality check?” Jungkook fills in for you, but you shake your head no.

“Mm,” you hum, “No, I dont think thats the way to put it, hmm, how about this…” you pause one last time before continuing, wanting to make sure you said everything correctly, “Hobi had two pieces to a puzzle that needed to connect together in order to complete said puzzle, but after lots of tosses and turns in their box well the two pieces just didn’t fit together anymore. In fact they refused to even try and fit with another, deciding that they were going to live with their new flaps and dents, and ignoring the fact that in order to complete the puzzle they needed to come together,” you let out a small laugh, “and so Hobi took a gamble, and decided to leave the pieces alone for the time being, in hopes that maybe, just maybe with a little bit more tosses and turns they’d realize that by coming together they’d be left with nothing but a beautiful image to show,” a warm smile appears on your face, “Yeah I think I like how that sounds, what do you think?” you turn to face Jungkook who was staring at you with his doe-eyed expression, completely speechless.

“Or was I too wordy?” you laugh, “I reached didn’t I?” you begin to ramble, “Ah I really need to—” suddenly you feel a cold finger pressed against your lips, Jungkook sounding a tiny “shh” soon after.

“I think it was perfect,” Jungkook softly whispers, what could only be described as a loving smile on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling your cold face get warmed up due to the heat that was rising from your cheeks. Reminding you of a memory from only months ago…

March 2019.

“Remind me why I’m going again?” you walk out of the hallway and into the living room, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Because you are tonight’s designated driver,” Hobi reminds you, “and well we all don’t fit in Seokjin’s mini cooper so there’s that,” he laughs. You sigh in return, looking at your reflection for the 100th time tonight. “Jungkook, you almost ready?” Hobi shouts from the living room, not keen on his friend’s habit of always getting ready at the last minute.

Tonight was one of, if not the only, rare occasions that both you and Jungkook would be at an outing together, and even then Hobi was always with you two, acting as the facilitator. Jungkook and you usually parted your separate ways the moment you’d arrive somewhere, especially at parties. And so today you didn’t really expect anything different. 

It had been about a month since Hobi’s little lecture to Jungkook, and in a way it did have some kind of positive effect on Jungkook. These days he was now much more quiet and reserved, and honestly you preferred the cold shoulder over the constant attitude so you were definitely not complaining.

You were even surprised this morning when you found your bathroom products to be completely replaced by new bottles, including your serum! Of course they had been slightly used, meaning Jungkook wasn’t going to let go of his grip on them just yet, but at least it meant that he had the decency to realize that if he was going to be using them all the time, then it was only right that he occasionally paid for them. 

Even last week when you heard him mumble a small, “that was good, thank you,” after making gyeran-mari’s for breakfast, you had to look at Hobi for confirmation that it really happened. Hell, he had even stopped constantly bringing women over, instead beginning to work out more often as you would now hear his grunts come from doing sit ups than from doing um… yeah. It looked like he even had a knack for boxing because you soon noticed how he’d come back home with hands wrapped in bandages or his gloves stringing along his duffel bag. Honestly, it was a little hot, but you’d rather die before admitting that to anyone.

“Ah I’m done, I’m done,” a voice comes out the hallway, Jungkook balancing on his right foot in a rush to put on his left shoe. Tonight he was dressed a little differently than his usual self, replacing his usual black attire and black combat boots for a more club friendly look of ripped blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a black fitted t-shirt. Of course not straying too far from his personal style. The new tattoo he had gotten recently was also in clear view tonight, his sleeve coming along quite nice in your opinion. He had recently even gotten his hair permed, allowing it to grow out longer than what you were used to seeing. It was crazy what a difference hair could make because it definitely made him look … better, in your eyes at least. 

All this change on his part, honestly made you feel a little dull, but that’d be something to dwell on for another day. For now, you just wanted to get tonight over with. The faster you got there, the quicker you could leave, and the earlier you could be in bed.  

“You took a whole ass hour for this?” Hobi eyes Jungkook up and down. Jungkook is quick to shoot him an offended look, while you on the other hand are struggling to suppress a laugh, “I’m not saying you look bad, in fact you look amazing, but this should not take you an hour!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, combing a hand through his hair.

“Are we going to get going or what?” he says, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

Once you all arrived, you were quick to meet up with the rest of your friends, everyone having pitched in for bottle service. Jungkook, who had become pretty cool with the rest of everyone, sat between Yoongi and Namjoon, all three of them laughing at God knows what. The bottle they had bought almost halfway done. 

You on the other hand, were just watching everyone, the only person besides yourself who wasn’t drunk was Seokjin, and even then he was too busy with his new girlfriend to pay you any attention. Not that you really minded considering she really was a kind person and well who could blame Seokjin for being head over heels. They even shared the same humor, something that was quite rare to find.

You weren’t sure if it was because tonight the club seemed extra packed, or maybe the dress you were wearing was feeling a little too tight or maybe it was the stench of all alcohol getting to you but something definitely fell off. And you did not like it one bit.

“Hey I’m gonna go out back and get some fresh air outside,” you tell Hobi over the music, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement, the boy was clearly very drunk. The moment you stepped out, you definitely did feel better, the crispy fresh air outside almost making you feel as if you were breathing for the first time. That was until you heard the sound of someone arguing.

“I saw you dancing with her! Stop trying to gaslight me into thinking you weren’t!” a woman screams, very much in distress by who you assumed was her boyfriend, “God, I knew I should’ve listened to my mom, you are a pig! And I deserve a man who's going to—

“What did you just say?” he grabs her by the arm, his atrocious grip surely going to cause her a bruise later on.

“Let go of me!” she cries, as he then grabs her by the hair, ready to toss her to the floor and do whatever else he wanted to do with her. You feel your breathing become heavier, watching the scene unfold in front of you, unsure of what to do. You were scared and you didn’t know how to defend yourself, let alone someone else. But you also knew that God forbid you were ever in that situation, you wouldn't want someone turning a blind eye on you, so you did what was only right.

“Hey!” you scream while walking towards the couple, catching the man’s attention, “Let go of her before I—”

“Before you what?” he lets go of her hair, now walking towards you as well. The woman watches you with shaky eyes, having never guessed that her savior would be a woman in black string heels and a face that for the most part was not at all intimidating.

You reach into your purse, hoping to get a feel for either your taser or pocket knife, but of course, of fucking course, on all days of the year it was no where to be found. Nonetheless, you muster up your courage and respond, “Before I call security,” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

He laughs, dramatically looking around to show you that no one around was here to help, “Anyone ever teach you to mind your fucking business, like how a woman should,” you gulp, almost losing balance while taking a step back as he only gets closer, “Huh?! Anyone every fucking teach you that?” he closes in on you, your back soon hitting the wall that was behind you.

“Just leave her alone!” the woman screams in hysteria.

“You stay the fuck out of it! You’re the whole reason she’s in this mess,” he mutters, his words completely slurred and his breath reeking like alcohol. You almost feel like vomiting at the accidental whiff you take because wow was this man just disgusting.

“See maybe if you would’ve just gone about your day, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he makes a ticking sound with his mouth, mocking you, “but” he sighs, “I guess whores just have to stick with each other, huh?” he grabs you by the scalp of your hair, this time not hesitating to throw you to the ground.

“Oh my—” the woman screams, panic flowing through her veins.

“Go!” you yell at her, giving her the chance to escape even if it meant sacrificing your own wellbeing. She hesitates for a moment before running, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement was one of the last things you could hear before the ringing in your ears became all too much. 

You look at your hands for a moment, the stinging feeling almost unbearable as they had taken most of the impact of the fall, along with your knees. A part of you hoped he had left, that he had somehow magically disappeared or that you’d wake up to find that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t until you felt the grip of his hand on your hair again, that you’d come to realize the reality of your situation and that there was absolutely no one to help you.

The man lifts up his free hand, building power for the punch he was preparing to throw, as you could only throw your arms in front yourself in an attempt to minimize the impact of the punch. By now tears were falling from freely your eyes, small whimpers and sniffles coming out of fear. The final words you hear being spat from his mouth were, “you stupid bitch,” and in your head you count to three, waiting for the feeling of his fist against your face. But it never came.

Instead you feel the release of his hand on your scalp, and when you open your eyes you find him on the ground, not completely knocked out but he might as well be with just how out of it he looked. And though you weren’t drunk, you almost felt as if you were because absolutely everything around you was overlapping, hardly able to see anything in clear focus. But what you could make out was that there was a figure, and by the build you assume was a man, now sitting over the drunkard, throwing several punches at him. His goal was either to knock the man out or make sure he suffered every way possible before knocking him out.  

You stand there for a moment in shock as you hear the person’s voice, a voice that was all too familiar, “I dare you to fucking lay a hand on her again, I fucking dare you!” Jungkook yells, throwing another punch at the man, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” slowly your vision becomes clearer as you wipe away the tears that had been blocking your vision, and soon you realize if Jungkook kept going at the rate he was, the man was going to be killed.

Quickly you run towards Jungkook, attempting to grab his right arm before he swings again, “Jungkook stop!” you yell, but instead he pushes your arm away, too caught up in his rage to think straight. The drunk man looked as if he was barely holding on, blood now all over his face. “I said stop!” you yell at the top of your lungs, the veins on your neck popping. Jungkook, panting, looks up at you, momentarily stopping. “Just stop,” you cry, wanting this nightmare to be over.

Jungkook looks at the barely conscious man one more time, pulling him by the collar of his shirt so that he’d get a good look of him, “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Jungkook,” you stop him from finishing his sentence.

He sighs, “Just be glad she’s here because scum like you deserve to fucking rot,” he says, letting go of the man’s collar and allowing his head to hit the pavement. He gets up from his position and begins to pat his black shirt of any dirt, catching his breath along the way. “You okay?” he asks, intensely staring at you.

But before you could respond, a voice screams, “Hey!” the two of you look up at said voice, only to find a security guard with a flashlight in his hand and his walky talky on the other.

Jungkook quickly grabs you by the hand, causing you to wince at the sudden touch, “Come on,”  he says, pulling you to follow him.

He leads you back to the parking lot, confusion evidently on your face. It wasn’t until you turned back to find several security guards following after you that everything began to click together, panic now flowing through your veins. Hurriedly, you grab Hobi’s keys from your purse and unlock the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

Jungkook quickly hops in the passenger seat, his head throbbing from the amount of drinks he’s had, watching as you struggle to put the key in the ignition, clearly in a state of anxiousness. He yanks the keys from your hands and places them in himself, “Now drive!” he shouts, causing you to step ferociously on the gas pedal. Burning tire as you race off the parking lot.  

“God my head is fucking killing me,” Jungkook complains, his blood stained hands resting on his temple. By now the two of you were heading back home, Jungkook having texted Hobi through your phone that he was going to have to get a ride from Seokjin. For the situation you two were just in had required an immediate escape.

You on the other hand were driving in complete silence, still in a state of shock of what just happened. Jungkook having to constantly remind you that you were driving, several instances of you zoning out at a stop light happening way too often for his liking.

“I am way too drunk for this shit,” he mutters under his breath, the reality of what just happened beginning to kick in. The queasy feeling in his stomach became more and more unbearable with every turn you took. And don’t even get him started on his throat, which was currently as dry as the Sahara Desert. “Is there some kind of water in this car?” he asks, beginning to look through the car console and glove compartment.

“I don’t,” you pause and sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

“Pull over,” he repeats, his patience running out.

Not questioning him a second time, you do exactly that, pulling over at the side of some park near your apartment. Jungkook takes in a deep breath before opening the door and sticking his head out, seconds later the sound of him vomiting making you feel as queasy as he did.

“Oh God,” you mumble to yourself, just wanting to be in bed already. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because soon enough Jungkook was getting out of the car and going to God knows where. “Where are you going?” you shout, as he walks towards the park.

“I need water,” he says, “You coming or what?” you contemplate on whether to follow him or not, before ultimately exiting the car and locking it. With the way he was stumbling his footsteps, it was better safe than sorry to follow him.

“BogoShipda!” Jungkook sings loudly to the trees in the park, all of the alcohol he drank at the club still running through his system. You stare at him in surprise, having never seen him act like this before, as he continues to sing.

“Now where’s a water fountain when you need one,” he mumbles, the darkness of the night sky making it hard for him to scan his surrounding area. You found yourself feeling a little scared in fact. The silhouette of the trees and the sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches only making the atmosphere more scary.

“Ah there it is!” Jungkook slurs his words, sounding like a kid at a carnival. Once he’s in front of the fountain, he pushes against the button, the water sprouting out of the fountainhead. You stare at him in silence as he hadn’t crouched down to drink yet, thus confusing you.

It wasn’t until you felt a tug at your hand and the sting of the water hitting against your scrapes that you felt like punching him. “What are you doing?” you ask, trying your best not to sound too peeved.

He looks at you before rolling his eyes, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cleaning your hands,” he signals for you to give him your other hand, and without thinking you comply.

“I could’ve done this at home,” you say.

“I know, but the longer we wait the higher chance it'll end up getting infected by dirt so,” he looks at you with a know it all expression, and you mumble a small “I guess,” under your breath, the stinging sensation soon enough replaced by a cool one, your hands no longer feeling as rusty.

It isn’t until he’s finished that he takes a sip of water, exhaling a small “ahh” sound after downing several gulps. “Come on,” he grabs your hand again, leading you to a park bench with a small lamppost right next to it, providing a smooth yellow dim light.

“Why are we—”

“I just want to sit for a moment without the movement of a car, just for a bit,” he exhales a heavy breath, manspreading on the bench and throwing his head back, “just for a bit,” he repeats, his voice soft.

The two of you sit there in silence, “Why are you staring at me?” he asks with his eyes closed, feeling your intense stare.  

“I’m not—I’m not staring,” you stutter, he hums in response. Silence fills the air again, until Jungkook mumbles something that at first is inaudible.

“What?” you ask.

“I said I’m ˢᵒʳʳʸ,” you look at him confused, were you hearing him correctly?

“Wait what?” you ask again, it wasn’t your intention to come off as pushy nor pretentious but you were just seriously surprised as to what you were hearing.

He grumbles before repeating himself, “I said,” he drops his shoulders, “I said I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to look at you, his usual smug behavior nowhere to be found on his face, he was being completely serious.

“Oh…” you pause for a moment before continuing, “Can I ask for what? I’m not trying to be mean or anything or act dense. I seriously just don’t know why,” you make sure you add those claims at the end, feeling as if you were walking on eggshells.

He looks at you momentarily before placing his view on the trees in front of you, “For not getting there earlier,” he mutters, as if disappointed with himself, “I went out because Hobi had told me to go check up on you, but,” he stays silent for a moment before continuing, clenching his jaw, “at first I sorta shrugged him off when he asked me, it wasn’t until he asked me second time that I actually went outside,” his voice shakes a bit and you notice that his eyes become slightly glossy, “and then a woman came running up to me rambling about someone about to get beaten up, but the last person I thought she was talking about was you,” he exhales loudly before continuing, trying his best to maintain his composure, “but either way I ran towards wherever she was pointing at, and that’s when I saw you on the floor,” his voice cracks, “and I just keep replaying everything in my head, and I just—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m just sorry and I felt like you deserved to know that,” he concludes, a tear falling from his face.

And maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe he just really did feel bad, but to see Jungkook this vulnerable was different to say the least. It was almost humanizing in some aspects.

Jungkook expected you to scream at him, to tell him that it was his fault you were put in that situation. That he could’ve prevented it from happening, that because of him you almost got beat to a bloody pulp.

No, in fact he doesn't expect you to, he wants you to. It’s what he deserves to hear from you. Had it not been for him and his ego, he would’ve gone out there the moment Hobi had asked him to, and you would’ve never had to deal with that drunk excuse of a human being to begin with. Or was the alcohol in his system just seriously getting to him because God did he feel sick.

“Jungkook it’s not your fault,” you begin, but Jungkook who's still looking at the trees, refuses to make eye contact. “Hey look at me,” you demand, tugging his hand in an effort to get him to look at you. When he does so, you continue, “That man was going to attack me whether you came or not because a weak man like that will attack the easiest target,” you state, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “It was no one’s fault but his, you hear me?” you squeeze his hand, “Not yours, not mine, not Hobi’s, not the lady, no one. Absolutely no one.”

More tears begin to fall from his bloodshot eyes, “You don’t get it y/n,” he shakes his head, “You don’t what that man could’ve done to you in that time I wasn’t there, you could’ve been killed for God’s sake,” he attempts to say it firmly, but his voice betrays him by whimpering in the end.

“But he didn’t!” you say, and without thinking you place his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here look! All because of you! Yeah you didn’t get there as early as you wished you could’ve, but you got there nonetheless! And if you hadn’t I probably would be sporting a big old black eye on my face and have one cheek bigger than the other right now. I’d look like one of those chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks!” you laugh at your own joke, and for the first time ever, Jungkook laughs with you. His last first starting off as a small chuckle but the harder you laughed, the harder he did. The beginning to what would be you always hearing his high pitched laugh around the apartment, but let’s not get too far ahead right now.

They say when a human is drunk, they muster up the courage to do something they’d never do sober, but have always thought of doing in the back of their mind. It was often why people would blame a bold text to an ex on being “drunk” despite not taking one sip of their tequila shot, or why some people would excuse cheating on being “drunk” despite knowing it was something they wanted to do for a very long time. They were looking for an excuse to finally do it. And so now sitting here, with his hand caressed across your face, goofy grins plastered on your faces, he felt tempted to just kiss you.

It was weird really, yeah he thought you were cute, in fact there were days he’d found you hot, but anything past physical attraction had never really crossed his mind. To him, you’d always been and currently were his roommate who he found both superficial and performative. 

The one who once attempted to hide her strawberry scented shampoo in her room during work, in hopes that he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it. The one who liked her jjolmyeon more on the sour side than the sweet. The one who occasionally made him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, despite him being asleep after a long night of work of barristering. The one who for some odd reason almost never watched Netflix on the TV, but instead would watch it on her laptop on the couch, thus rendering the TV completely useless.

And so to be here, finally appreciating the person that you were after what could’ve been a near-death experience was a bit of a wake up call. And yeah like you said, maybe he didn’t get here as early as he should’ve been, but he got here nonetheless. He smiles to himself, your words having a double meaning behind them.

But for now he wanted to preserve this feeling, because he knew he was drunk. He was so drunk that the tree behind you was beginning to look like it was moving towards him. And so rather than kiss you, he instead decides to simply tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, deciding that if he felt like this tomorrow morning when he was sober then it’d be something worth looking into.

“I’m telling you, if I ever see that man again—”

“It was like,” you count on your fingers, “9 months ago Jungkook, I doubt you even remember his face,” you cut off, patting his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, “you’d be surprised how good I am at remembering faces, so when I tell you I’m still waiting for the day I come across him again, I mean it!” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you sing,  “Hey at least something good came out of it,” you smile.

Jungkook looks at you with uncertainty, “Which is?”

Your small smile then becomes a toothy grin, “We became friends!” you exclaim excitedly, “temporarily at least,” you laugh.

April 2019.

It had been about two weeks since the incident at the club. Jungkook having completely avoided you since, and no you weren’t paranoid because originally you thought you were. It first started off with you not seeing him at all around the apartment, which you excused with you two having different work schedules like always. But then you’d notice he wouldn’t even drink the coffee you would make for him in the morning, it being left there on the counter for the entire day. 

And in the very rare moments you did manage to get a glimpse of him in the hallway either entering or exiting his room, the boy would completely avoid eye contact with you! But the final confirmation that told you he was avoiding you? He had bought his own shampoo and body wash for himself! Not just any kind, he bought an extra lather version of your own with exfoliating properties. And you didn’t if you could use it or not because, well because he was avoiding you! 

It wasn’t like you two kissed or anything! The most that happened was that you two shared a laugh! So then why was he avoiding you like the freaking plague? After a week of thinking about every possible reason he could be, you had given up. You’d accepted that you were back at square one with him, but it wasn’t like you were ever at square two to begin with. And so that’s why yesterday when Hobi told you he’d be going on a morning/afternoon hike trip on Saturday with Namjoon, you were skeptical on how Jungkook would manage to avoid you.

It was also why this morning in bed, when you heard what sounded like furniture being moved at 7 in the freaking morning, you were unsure about getting up and saying something or remaining in bed. Luckily you didn’t have to think about it for too long because you soon heard the sound footsteps coming closer to your bedroom door. As a result, you quickly threw yourself under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

It definitely had to be Jungkook who had just entered your room, the heavy footsteps acting as a signal to you that it was. Your eyes widen when you hear the sound of your drawer being pulled open, “What the hell did he think he was doing? Should you turn around and scare him? Hmm. No,” you think to yourself because soon enough you felt a hand gently shake your body.

“Y/N,”  he whispers, clearly in belief that you were asleep. You let him shake you around a little more, just to make your little “I’m just waking up” act a little more believable, “Y/N,” he repeats, and this time you begin to make groggy sounds. Actress of the Year Award : Check.

“Mm,” you hum, but you’re quickly jolted awake when you feel your covers get pulled off of you, “What are you—” you look up at Jungkook, who was dressed in complete workout gear. But what really had you concerned, was the workout clothing he had folded in his hands because well they were yours.

He tosses the matching pair of black leggings and sports bra, “Go change,” he sternly says, only causing you to look at him in further confusion.

“B-b-but-” Jungkook knows you’re about to not only complain, but ask many many questions. Because that’s just the type of person you are.

“Hobi told me you like buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, but that since yours always come out burnt and his come out too dull, that the only time you get to eat them is if you go to a breakfast restaurant,” you narrow your eyes at him, confused as to where this was leading to, “Well at the coffee shop I work at, we have a weekly Pancake Tuesday and well let’s just say a certain someone has been rated top pancake maker for 2 months now,” you quirk your brow in interest, continuing to listen, a smirk now on his face, “and let’s also say this certain someone has a stack of warm pancakes sitting there on the kitchen island, untouched and certainly uneaten.”

You quickly smile at what he was insinuating, “BUT you can only eat them if you get up, get ready and change in 5 minutes,” he looks at the clock, “starting now.” And in the blink of an eye you were up and running towards your restroom because certainly if that didn’t get you up and out of bed, he wasn’t sure what would.

Quickly you brush your teeth and fix up your hair a bit, curious to know what Jungkook had planned out. To think you thought he was avoiding you! Well he was … but that doesn’t matter anymore! Placing your shoes on you begin to make your way towards the living room, the thought of eating those buttermilk pancakes almost making your mouth drool. That was until you stepped into the living room, stopping dead in your tracks.

Your eyes glaze over everything, blinking veryyy slowly, in order to make sure you were seeing things correctly. Jungkook had transformed your living room into some kind of um … workout center? For boxing? He had everything from the red punching bag, the reflex bag, the speed ball, jump rope, mini dumbbells, and most importantly boxing mitts for some one-on-one training. Everything was an adequate enough size to fit in all into the living room, but not too big in a way that it couldn’t be stored in the extra closet you had in the hallway.

“Why did you—” Jungkook hands you a pair of shiny black boxing gloves, along with bandages.

“I’m going to teach you the basics of boxing,” he presses his lips together, “whether you like it or not,” he says.

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

“You don’t think what?” he looks at you in a way that tells you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m not really cut out for this kind of stuff,” you try to make an excuse for yourself anyway, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Because you have no experience, which is exactly why I’m going to teach you,” his brows draw together, a stern look on his face as he now makes eye contact with you, “You can’t just always expect someone to pop out of thin air and come to your rescue y/n, what happened two weeks ago was a mix of both good timing and sheer luck,” he sighs while pulling out a taser and pocket knife from his pocket, “and though this is helpful in many situations, you seem to forget to take these with you,” he scolds, “guess where they were the night at the club?” You stay silent, “the kitchen island,” he answers for you.

“Okay I get it, I get it,” you say, “I need to learn how to protect myself without using those,” you point to the items in his hand.

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he playfully pats your head, “so we’ll be doing this every weekend for the next eight weeks, from 7AM till 2PM. We might even throw an occasional weekday night in there if I don’t get out of work too late.”

“7AM?!” you shriek, “Oh no no no, you sir are crazy,” you protest, shaking your head in denial, “No amount of pancakes will have me waking up that early every weekend.”

“Oh come on! The more hours you do, the better you’ll get!” he bargains with you, catching you off guard by throwing his arm around your shoulder, your cheeks going red as a result.

“Jungkook,” you dramatically cry out, ready to stomp your feet on the floor like a little kid, the only thing preventing you was you not wanting the downstairs neighbors to come up and complain.

He tightens his grip on you, “Come onnnnn,” he sings, “I’ll let you use my new body wash with the exfoliating properties,” he teases you, having heard you complain to Hobi one morning about being unsure of whether or not you could use it. You truly were too kind for your own good, cause if the situations were reversed, Jungkook would’ve just gone ahead and used it.

You narrow your eyes at him once again, “More like you’re buying me one of my own!” you demand and he nods in agreement, “Also, where did you even manage to get all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as to how he managed to buy all this.

“Um let’s just say I have a buddy at the boxing gym who didn’t really need these anymore,” you stare at him suspiciously, but decide to shrug it off. You’d ask him more questions some other day, but for now all you wanted was to eat those pancakes!

Hobi opens the door to his shared apartment, exhausted from the hike he just had this morning and honestly ready to just hop into bed and sleep. That was until he saw the transformation of his living room in front of his very own eyes, his skin paling and mouth gaping in shock.

“What the—” he whispers, preparing to scream out your names like a parent walking in their house only to find it destroyed by their teenagers, but before he could the sound of something stops him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of soft snores.

Walking towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the long couch, a smile immediately appears on his face when he comes to see the view in front of him. You were on one side of the couch while Jungkook was on the other, both of your feet stretched out and touching in the middle, napping away. Hobi personally thought he was dreaming, this being a view he never thought he’d see.

Wanting to preserve the memory, he grabs his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app, snapping the photo in silence, tempted to edit and post the photo with little clouds above each other's heads and make up some witty caption. But he’d save it for some other day. For now, he was just happy you two were finally getting along.

“Ah I had forgotten how that photo came to be,” Jungkook laughs, looking at the photo on your Iphone screen, “you were tired from working out, while I was tired from having to watch you continuously mess around with the equipment,” he pokes fun at you. Not like it wasn’t true, that day you kept going back to the speed ball, aimlessly hitting it in hopes that at some point you’d magically become fast at hitting it like in the movies.

“Hey, I’m pretty decent at doing everything now,” you flash him a cheesy smile. After several weeks of consistent training and long hours, you were definitely at a point where you could adequately defend yourself from someone ranging from a small petite woman to around a medium sized man. Luckily, you haven't come across a situation that has required you to to do so nor do you ever hope to, but it was comforting to know that if something ever did happen, then you were ready. But, your taser and pocket knife would always be your first go to, no matter what.

“You’re…” Jungkook pauses, “okay,” he breathes, huffing a quiet laugh. Out of impulse you flash him the finger, showing off your freshly manicured fingers. “Aren’t you rude,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

You roll your eyes, “You’re the one who taught me,” you laugh, and Jungkook places his hand on his chest, looking at you with a dramatic offended look on his face.

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

“Yes you! How could I forget,” you look at him accusingly.

“No I taught you how to stop faking a smile, and to start putting a foot down people’s neck,” he shrugs, “not to go sticking out the middle finger,” he jokes, and you only roll your eyes again, grumbling a small  “Mm.”

May 2019.

To your surprise, you had been managing to consistently wake up and work out every weekend with Jungkook, with him even being able to up your usual workout plan at a drastic rate. You’d shed a couple of pounds and to your surprise could even see some muscle beginning to form, but today, well today was your monthly lazy day.

Lazy day was the one day of the month where you and Hobi would push everything off your schedule, from calling off of work, to making sure everything in the apartment was clean, and buying snacks the night before in order to make sure you wouldn’t have to step out of the apartment. It was usually picked the month before by either you or Hobi closing your eyes and randomly pointing somewhere on the calendar, and whatever day your index finger managed to land on would be the day. And well today was that day.

But when Hobi told you yesterday night that a family emergency was going to have to bring lazy day to a temporary halt because he had to drive back to Busan, which in itself was a three hour trip from Seoul, you had already called the day off weeks prior as your job wasn’t as lenient on last minute call offs. The contract you signed stating in small print, “any day off must be requested, sent in, and approved 2 weeks prior to the date said employee is asking for.”

And so this morning when Jungkook entered your room to find you completely knocked out with drool coming out of your mouth, he was surprised to say the least. On weekday mornings, he would almost always wake up to find himself alone in the apartment considering both you and Hobi have day jobs, so hearing snores come out of your room had definitely caught him off guard.

He debated on whether he should be annoying and wake you up and then force you to work out or be a nice roommate and make you breakfast. Let’s just say he didn’t choose the latter. Grabbing one of the stuffed animals that you weren’t hugging, he throws it at your head, a grunt coming out of your mouth after.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, morning voice in full effect, “let me sleep please,” you say, switching to the other side, in hopes that he’d leave.

“No, you need to work out,” he says, beginning to nag.

Turning around again, this time to face him, you look at him with your eyes half-way open, “Today’s lazy day,” you deadpan, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What the hell is, quote on quote, lazy day?” he asks, lifting a brow. Rubbing your eyes along with eye boogers in the corners, you begin to stretch your arms and legs, not caring if he was staring.

Sighing once you were ready to respond, you then answer, “Lazy day is the one day of the month that me and Hobi take a day off of work to well … be lazy,” he stares at you with an innocent look on his face, “butttttt,” a mischievous smile appears on your face, “since Hobi cancelled on me, now you’re going to be lazy partner for the day.” His face twists in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, go call the café, and tell em you’re taking the day off,” you smile, now getting up from bed.

“And why would I do that?” Jungkook asks, the question coming off a little harsher than intended, but you were quick to shrug it off, already accustomed to the occasional attitude.

“Becauseeeeee,” you sing, “When was the last time you’ve taken a day off, I mean look at you right now! You’re already dressed comfortably,” you eye him up and down, he was currently in work out clothing which for him consisted of an oversized grey sweater and joggers, “do you really wanna get all sweaty and then have to shower, change, and go to work… cause I don’t think you do,” you raise your eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner as he avoids eye contact with you.

His eyes look around your room, clearly thinking to himself. A lazy day huh? Hmm you did make a point, he really couldn’t remember the last time he’s just lounged around and done nothing, as he was always doing something whether it be working out, working, going out, etc.

He looks back at you once he’s made his decision, letting out a huff of air, “Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial the coffee shop, a tiny squeal coming from you.

“I thought lazy day meant no going out,” Jungkook complains while pushing the grocery cart around, following you and your need to go up and down each and every aisle at the store.

“It does, but since Hobi and I couldn’t go grocery shopping the night before,” you grab some strawberry lemonade from the freezer and place it in the cart, “someone has to help carry the groceries up the stairs,” you catch him rolling his eyes, “your eyes will get stuck up there if you keep doing that,” you comment, grabbing packaged ramen from the counter beside you.

“Yeah, Yeah—” Jungkook stares at what’s in your hands wide eyed, “No, no, no! What are you doing?” You jump in surprise, dropping the package on the floor.

“Wh-what?” your face flushes in surprise, his outburst completely catching you off guard.

“Shin Ramyun?! What happened to getting Paldo Bibimmyeon?! Do you have no loyalty?” he scrunches his face up, in clear distress at what he just caught you doing. At first you don’t think he’s serious, this being some stupid joke he was making, but once you got a glimpse of the stare he was giving you, you’d soon come to realize that he was not playing around at all.

“It’s be-be-because,” you begin to stutter under his scrutiny, “these are buy three, get two free,” you lopsidedly smile, an awkward laugh feigning from your lips.  He shakes his head, snatching the ramen from your hands and placing it on its original spot before then grabbing his Paldo Bibimmyeon.

“Choosing price over quality, are you crazy?” he mutters under his breath before pushing the cart past you and making his way to the checkout line, leaving you there momentarily flabbergasted.

Once you caught up to him you were ready to tell him something until you heard the sound of someone calling your name, “Y/N?” you turn around, surprised to see Jimin in the line next to you.

“Oh Jimin!” you smile, softly waving at the newly blonde-haired boy, his roots telling you that the hair job was recent. Jimin offers his hand out to Jungkook. Jungkook, at first hesitant, shakes it in return, “You remember Jimin, right? He was with us on New Years, he was supposed to come partying with us last time, but he flaked last minute,” Jungkook slowly nods remembering the boy wrapping his arm around you during the countdown while Jimin on the other hand raises his hands to his defense.

“Even a person like me can get burnt out every here and then,” he laughs, “but next time I’ll be sure to be on the dance floor,” he winks at you, his natural flirty personality making its appearance. Jungkook awkwardly coughs, pushing the cart forward to get your attention back in the moving line.

You feel your hands get a bit clammy, Jimin always being someone you did have a bit of a crush on, never pursuing anything because of your long-term friendship with him. But of course that didn’t mean he didn’t get an occasional blush out of you here and there. “So how have you been since the last time I saw you? It’s been quite a while—”

And just as you’re about to answer, Jungkook interrupts, “Y/N,” he says, nudging you to tell you that it was time to pay.

“Ah I guess I’ll just see you around then,” Jimin chuckles, waving a small goodbye.

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

“Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, unbeknownst to you, the green eyed monster was beginning to make its appearance. Any longer and horns would probably start sprouting out his ears.

Once you two finish paying and bagging everything, you walk towards Jungkook’s new black Hyundai which he had bought only a couple of weeks ago after months of what he calls “busting his ass” off and using most of his savings up for. You hum a tiny tune while helping him place all the bags in the trunk.

“So…” Jungkook awkwardly begins, second guessing whether he should continue asking the question he had in his mind before deciding to just do it anyway, “Is that like your boyfriend or something?”

Immediately you stop humming, staring at Jungkook wide-eyed, “Oh no, no!” you quickly deny, “No, No, no,” you repeat, shaking your head. The redness of your cheeks tell another story.

“Hm,” Jungkook mumbles, “sorta looked like it,” he deadpans before going to put the cart in its designated spot, leaving you there confused as to what that meant. 

After a couple of hours of lounging around in the apartment and binging Narcos: Mexico on the TV rather than your laptop because of Jungkook’s complaints, the two of you were now eating your ramen on the kitchen island, quietly seated on the tall chairs. The sound of Jungkook slurping his noodles filling the room.

“What did you mean by Jimin being my boyfriend or something?” you suddenly ask out of nowhere, the question having been on your mind for a majority of the day.

Jungkook takes a final gulp of his food before responding, “I don’t know,” he nonchalantly shrugs, “you were gawking at him like a schoolgirl seeing her crush in the hallway,” he says, “thought you two had something going on, or at least on your part,” he reiterates.  

“I did not stare at him like some schoolgirl!” you deny, taking offense to his analogy, “He’s j-jus—”

“J-just someone you clearly have a crush on,” he mocks your flusteredness, “I see and here a part of me thought it thought it was two-sided,” he smirks.

“It’s not sided on either way,” you protest, “Jimin is just a friend,” you clarify, putting your foot down.  

“How do you even know the dude?” he asks. He knew you and Hobi met during college, and that Hobi was in some club with Yoongi and Namjoon which explains how you met them. He also knew that Seokjin and Taehyung came into the picture after some college frat party, but Jimin, well he didn’t know too much about Jimin. Just that he clearly felt comfortable enough to have his arm around you during New Years.

“I met him during my first year of performing at Busan Arts College, that was before I transferred to Seoul National where I’d then meet Hobi,” Jungkook’s ears perk up, several questions now running through his head.

“An arts college? In Busan?”

“Yeah, like a school for dance majors, drawing, theatre, music, film, modelling, sports, interior design, animation, and et cetera,” you smile softly while explaining, “I was an art major, painting to be specific, and along the scopes of watercolors and abstractness.”

Jungkook hums, his curiosity still not completely fulfilled, “So why’d you transfer?” he asks the big question.

“Oh..” you know you shouldn’t be, but for some reason you are slightly taken back by his blunt question, “because..” you sigh, “um something happened that well um I just thought it’d be best to transfer, and well my math skills weren’t too rusty for the entrance exam and my credits were exceptional for transferring and so I just took the leap and left. Met Hobi, we became roommates, decided to stay roommates even after graduating and well now I’m an accountant.”

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, surprised that there was more to you than meets the eye. He would’ve never guessed that you were into painting, “I stayed in touch with Jimin, introduced him to my new group of friends and well yeah, that’s that,” you finish explaining, “He was a dance major, just in case you were curious,” you add, “He now works at a contemporary dance company here in Seoul, very deep with connections in the arts industry,” So that’s who Jimin was huh? Cool... but now Jungkook was much more curious about you.

“Do you ever paint?” he asks another question, completely finished with his meal and at this point only staying for the conversation. It was weird, had it been anyone else asking you these questions you wouldn't have dared entertain it any further, probably finding some way to maneuver out of it. But for Jungkook to ask whether it be from a place of nosiness or simple curiosity, hell maybe even boredom, for some reason you just didn’t mind.

“Um not really, not anymore at least, especially these days that work is beginning to pile up but,” you hesitate for a moment before continuing, “I still have some of my old work somewhere under my bed, probably in a storage box knowing me.”

“Can I see them?”

And just as you’re about to answer, your phone’s ringing sound goes off. The person calling? Jimin. You hesitate to answer, glancing at Jungkook who was staring at your phone, presumably reading the name. Once he does, he looks at you in a way that was asking, “Are you going to pick up?”

You click the green button to accept, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, unsure if it was you.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Um so I was actually meaning to call for quite a while,” Jungkook tries his best not to make it obvious that he’s listening in, “and so when I ran into you and your friend at the market it served as a complete reminder.”

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

“Well I was hoping we could catch up over some dinner, and then I could tell you something very important that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” From Jimin? “I was thinking this Saturday like at 7? I’ll pick you up.”  

“Oh um..” for some reason you look at Jungkook for advice, but he just stares at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah sure, why not?” you awkwardly laugh.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then! Byeeeee,” he sings before clicking, leaving you on the line. Did that call really just happen? Or were just imagining things?  

“I think—” you gulp, “I think I have a date this Saturday?” you say unsurely, a small dumbfounded smile beginning to appear on your face.

He notices the goofy smile beginning to appear on your face, before letting out a large exasperated breath and feigning his best smile. The forced smile comes out quite awkward, “With Park Jimin?” Park Jimin your college friend. Park Jimin, the successful contemporary dancer. Park Jimin, the one who looked like he came straight out of a magazine cover. That Park Jimin? Jungkook on the other hand could feel his eyebrow impulsively twitch in response, the green eyed monster creeping from behind, ready to make its return.

You nod your head yes, Jungkook now getting up from the chair, a negative energy now around him. “So much for it being a zero sided thing,” he mutters before practically throwing his dish into the sink and stomping out the kitchen, leaving you completely by yourself.

“Weird,” you think to yourself before heading off to bed.

Saturday had surprisingly arrived in the blink of an eye despite the extra hours of working out Jungkook had thrown in the morning. It was almost as if the boy wanted you to be on your date exhausted and halfway knocked out. Out of nowhere, deciding that today was the best day to start working on more leg targeted exercises, as a result your legs now felt like jell-o with every step you took.

“I’m gonna get going you guys,” you announce to the boys in the living room, who were currently on the couch watching an episode of One Piece.

Hobi turns his attention from the screen to look at you, immediately smiling at your outfit, “Ahh look at you,” he compliments, Jungkook on the other hand or silently watches you as you grab your keys from the countertop. “Doesn’t she look pretty Jungkook?” Hobi asks, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook remains silent, which oddly enough resulted in a heavy feeling in your chest. “Now she’s sad!” Hobi scolds, “Tell her she looks pretty,” Hobi pushes Jungkook’s shoulder this time.

“You look…” Jungkook pauses, and for a moment both you and Hobi hold your breath, for Jungkook’s mouth was quite unpredictable sometimes, “You look more than pretty,” he says with a warm look on his face before catching himself and going back to his usual expressionless face and turning his attention back to the screen. Hobi who looks like he’s about to tease the hell out Jungkook once you leave, struggles to hide the big grin on his face. While you, well you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat.  

“Well get going now! And don’t come back too late!” Hobi teases, loving the persona of acting like a parent a little too much.

Was thinking about your roommate regular for a date? Because that’s what you found yourself doing … a lot. From the moment you had stepped into Jimin’s car your immediate comparison was to Jungkook’s own car. Once he started driving, your mind went to how unlike Jimin who drove with both hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook liked driving with one. More specifically his left. 

And of course being on a date you expect conversation to be flowing all around even when you’re waiting on the food, but for some reason you had become so used to Jungkook always being silent until he was nearly finished with his food, that when Jimin began to make conversation while waiting definitely felt … odd for you to say the least. And don’t even get you started on what he ended up ordering. Well done steak?! Jungkook hated well done steak, preferring medium rare over anything. And so to say your roommate had been constantly on your mind this whole time was a bit of an understatement. 

Currently the two of you were walking on the bridge of a local park, the several number of lampposts and people all around you making it less scary than compared to that night at the park with Jungkook. “So Y/N how’s your year been so far?” Jimin asks, a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s been,” you pause, thinking about the person who came into your life only months ago, “it’s been pretty good.”

“That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he repeats, the two of you now sitting on a bench, “So I know I told you I had some important news,” he begins, “and it’s something I’ve been really wanting to talk to you about for a very long time,” he insinuates, “and so if you could close your eyes for a moment that’d be great,” you do as follows, and close your eyes, Your heart begins to race but it wasn’t the same kind of racing you felt that night at the park with Jungkook. It was more of a “what am I doing here?” kind of nervousness so to speak. Nonetheless you shrug the feeling off.

Jimin, who was originally supposed to be getting an exhibition flyer out of his coat, notices that you have what looks to be a leaf in your hair. Deciding that it was bothering him too much he goes and reaches for it, surprised to be in contact with your lips seconds later. Quickly he pulls away, staring at you wide eyed. Both of your faces now tomato red, as he struggles to form words.

Eyes still widened, he pulls out the folded paper from jacket, once unfolded it reads, “Seoul City’s Annual Public Art Exhibition with a special performance by Seoul’s Contemporary Dance Academy choreographed by Park Jimin.”

“Oh my God—” you manage to breath out, coming to the realization that kissing you was not his attention.

He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, yeah, I’m this year’s choreographer for the city's art exhibition and well I managed to get you a slot so that you could have your very first art piece exhibited,” Jimin feigns an awkward smile, “You know since you’re a painter first before an accountant.” You, still hung up on what was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life, stare at him in complete silence. Everything barely registering in your head.

“Y/N…” he begins the dreadful pity speech by grabbing your hand, “I um,” he lets out an awkward chuckle before continuing, “I like you, I do, but not in that way…”

In the movies, this is where you’re supposed to feel as if your world was crashing down on you, the part where your heart is supposed to sink in complete sadness and you go home a complete crying mess. But rather than feel any of those things, you instead feel …. relief? Yeah, you kissing the boy was embarrassing, but it wasn’t something that was gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. Maybe for a week or two, but not definitely not the rest of your life.

Jimin wonders what’s going through your mind, the apparent smile that suddenly grew on your face telling him that things were going to be just fine, “I sorta um had my eyes on someone else in our friend group…” and with that he gets your attention because you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Taehyung,” you say, and Jimin silently nods, a laugh emitting from both of your lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, that Jungkook dude seemed like was going to lunge at me any second over there at the supermarket,” Jimin says, “I thought you two were a thing at first.”  

You laugh in disbelief, “Me and Jungkook?” you say, scrunching your face.

“Um yeah, it’s not really something shocking,” Jimin laughs, “I mean you two definitely looked like a couple that day, very much doing um couple-like things. Maybe not affectionate wise but I don’t know there were definitely looks and glances being exchanged. But if you say there’s nothing between you two then who am I to argue?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly, who are you to argue,” you dramatically snarl, Jimin throwing his head back in laughter.

“So y/n what do you say about participating in the art exhibition? You know you want toooo,” Jimin sings, pouting his lips. You had forgotten about that for a moment, the embarrassment of the kiss completely fazing you out.

“Oh I don’t know,” you nervously say, you hadn’t seriously painted in such a long time, that chapter in your life being a closed book for quite some time now.

“But y/n—” Jimin begs, “This could be the moment you’ve been waiting for, there’s going to be a lot of professional artists there along with buyers.”

“I just—” something was holding you back from saying yes. Was it fear? Maybe. All you knew was that you couldn't dive into something that you had long given up on, “I don’t think I can,” you ultimately say.

Jimin frowns, “You sure? I can’t hold the slot for too long, and well I was so sure you’d say yes..” You sigh before nodding, confirming that you were saying no.

“Ah okay,” Jimin says, completely understanding, “Come on let’s get you home,” to which you nod, a small sad smile on your face.

By the time you got back home, you wondered if the boys’ were asleep already, hoping at least one of them was awake to talk to, more specifically Hobi, for he always knew what to say when you needed comfort. And so when you opened the door to find the TV still on, but no one in the living room, you were confused to say the least.

You walk towards Hobi’s room, crack open the door, and peep your head in only to find him sound asleep. Did that mean Jungkook was up? Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the TV… with your curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to go Jungkook’s room and check if he was there. With your hand on the knob, you begin to twist it, slowly opening the door until a voice scares you from behind, “What are you doing?” he harshly whispers causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you whisper as well, closing his door immediately, “I-I-I thought you were,” you point at his door, unable to complete your sentence.

“I was peeing,” he says, “Did you not see the light on?”

Shaking your head no, you ask, “What are you even doing up this late?”

Jungkook awkwardly stammers, “I um, I just couldn’t sleep,” he says instead of admitting that secretly he was waiting for you to arrive, just to make sure you were safe. Nothing else of course, not like he wanted to know how your date went… “Why are you going into my room without my permission?” he questions.

You scoff, “You always go in mine!” you try your best to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake up a grumpy Hobi, “Why can’t I go in yours?”

“Because you’ve never told me anything against me going into yours,” he argues, “Just because we’re um,” he pauses, struggling to say the word that comes next, “friends… doesn’t mean you get to go snooping around.” What the hell was he hiding in there that you couldn’t go in?

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you complain, ready to cross your arms and complain like a kid, that is until he flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow,” you cry, “What was that for?” you groan, and he shrugs in response.

“I don’t know I just felt like doing it,” he smirks, “your forehead just looks so … flickable.” You narrow your eyes, quickly flicking his in return, garnering an “ow” from him as well.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that,” he says, and quickly but also softly because you didn’t want to stomp too hard on the floor, you run back to the living room, the two of you now chasing each other around, index fingers ready for some more flicking. Maniacal fits of giggles filling the room as you begin to throw pillows at each other, running around the kitchen island like little kids. 

Jungkook, despite being the faster runner, was the one being chased. The closer you got to him, the further you began to reach your arm for his t-shirt, your fingertips always grazing the bottom. But once you finally did, something very unexpected happened. You tripped.

Soon enough, you were hands down on the floor, Jungkook below you, a casualty of your fall. The two of you now facing each other, chests heaving from your game of tag, laughing uncontrollably. Not exactly caring if Hobi, the neighbors, or the rest of the world could hear you.

Gradually, you get off him and instead lay on the kitchen floor right next him, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. A comfortable silence in the air. If someone would’ve told you at the beginning of the year that you and Jungkook would be playing tag in the apartment like little kids, you would’ve told them they were crazy. But yet here you were, heart pounding out of your chest, wanting this moment to remain for as long as it possibly could.

“So…” Jungkook continues to stare at the ceiling, “How’d your date go?”

“It was…” you use the only word that could properly describe it, “embarrassing,” you giggle, recalling what happened. Jungkook looks at you, eager to say the least, to know why.

“Let’s just say I ummm … took some signs completely wrong,” you awkwardly chuckle, “or long story short, I sorta kissed him and well let’s just say he has his eyes on someone else in our friend group.”

Was it wrong for Jungkook to feel happy? Happy that you two didn’t have insane chemistry, become boyfriend and girlfriend, and live happily ever after after like in the fairytales. Of course he wasn’t happy that it was you who went for the kiss, nor that it was who you got rejected, but it was better than you coming in here raving on about Park Jimin, no offense to Jimin.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s fine really,” you laugh, “what’s weird was that I didn’t really feel as heartbroken or as sad as I thought I’d be,” you shrug, “I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our friendship or anything. If anything I’m sad about what he offered... “

“What did he offer?” Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but you’re quick to shake your head and sigh.

“He offered me a spot at Seoul’s annual art exhibition, I guess since he choreographed a dance, he was able to talk them into giving him a spot and well I said no,” Jungkook frowns, wondering why you didn’t take the offer, “I just couldn’t see myself doing it… I haven’t painted in what feels like forever and to then have it be seen by thousands of people, yeah I can already feel the anxiety from that. One bad comment and I’m going to have to fake a smile the whole time and cry when I get home.”

Jungkook scoffs, “Who cares what others think? Screw them. I know that it’s rich coming from me, but if you think those people who may insult you or throw some sly comment to get under your skin are better than you in any way then let me tell you, they’re not. And who says you have to take their shit? Stop feeling as if you have to always put on some fake smile for people in order to spare their feelings and start looking out for your own,” Jungkook sits up, looking down on you. “So you know what you’re going to do?”

You stare at him in silence, murmuring a tiny “what?”

“You’re going to text Jimin right now and tell him you’re taking that spot,” Jungkook demands, “and if you don’t then I’ll call him myself and do it for you.” Now it’s your turn to sit yourself right up, waiting for a sign in his eyes that told you he was purely kidding. “Well what are you waiting for?” He eyes your pockets, waiting for you to reach for your phone.

“Jungko—”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you’re not feeling sad because you know you’re going to regret saying no to the opportunity,” Jungkook’s voice raises without meaning to, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I don’t have to see a single painting of yours to know that you’re talented, and if people can’t see that then honestly it’s their loss.” You feel your heart swell with every word, slowly pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook gets up from his position, offering his hand to help pull you up. Once he pulls you, he walks towards the fridge, and takes two pints of ice cream out the freezer. Your face lights up as you watch him get two spoons from the drawer, “Don’t hold it against me, but I bought these after you left just in case you came back a crying mess,” he avoids eye contact with you while handing you your pint, “But heartbreak or not, someone has to eat these. So come on, send that text so we can watch some One Piece.”

“Imagine you would’ve never convinced me to do the art exhibition,” you laugh, gently nudging Jungkook.

“Mm though it could’ve prevented a lot of things, the good definitely outweighed the bad so…” Jungkook pauses, “I guess it just goes to show you have to go through the downs in order to reap the rewards of the up.”

“Now look who's getting all wordy on me,” you tease.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me more than I’d like to admit,” he pretends to be annoyed by dramatically sighing but a laugh soon follows.

June 2019.

After texting Jimin that you had changed your mind, you began to work on the painting you had brainstormed for the art exhibition, first sketching it out and now well on your way to starting your quite large painting. 

Honestly, pulling out your old art tools and portfolio from years ago was nostalgic, bringing you a genuine sense of completeness. To have a decent paying job, the best of friends, and now being able to practice the hobby you had once considered turning into a career was everything you could ask for. But what made you feel even warmer inside was just how supportive Jungkook was of the whole thing, always buying and bringing back art materials for you to use, including different colors of paint. Though most of the time they weren’t really what you considered the best quality, it was the thought that counted.

After your boxing lessons with him, you’d usually go straight to your room to begin working on it, for the first time since you stopped painting feeling actual motivation and creativity flowing through you. Life was good. Not good, amazing.

That was until today, when you noticed Jungkook hadn’t woken you up for your usual Saturday workout. “Maybe he overslept?” you think to yourself, probably had a tiresome night at work yesterday. Slowly you make your way outside his door, gently knocking on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing. Not a groan, not a “let me sleep”, absolutely nothing. You knock one more time just to make sure, your shoulders dropping once you realize he wasn’t going to open the door. Remembering what he said about entering his room, you decide that if he was having a bad day, it’d just be best to leave him be for the meanwhile.

Things didn’t really start getting alarming until you and Hobi both noticed that he skipped breakfast. His door remaining absolutely closed the whole morning and day, not a peep of sound coming out.

“Hobi, I’m starting to get worried,” your eyes glimmer with concern, “He hasn’t come out all day.”

“I know I am too, but—” Hobi sighs, “I don’t want to pressure him into—” the sound of a door opening quickly grabs your guys’ attention, the two of you silently watching Jungkook come out of his room. The time on the clock reading 6PM, the sun outside beginning to set. Carefully you watch Jungkook come into the kitchen, grabbing nothing more than a water bottle and a couple of snacks.

There’s a redness to his eyes that you’d never seen before, almost as if he had been sobbing. His under eyes were in the early stages of becoming puffy, and his skin seemed a lot paler than usual. You feel your heart sink when the two of you, for a mere second, make eye contact. Quietly he begins to make his way back to his room, but not before you offer him some food.

“Y/N—” Hobi tries to stop you, but you continue nonetheless.

“I made japchae,” you say, “I even added extra mushrooms like how you always like it,” he stares at you in silence, a cold look to his eyes before ignoring you and returning to his room. The door slamming shut once he does. If your heart was sunk already, then it was definitely stomped and ripped into pieces after that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, feeling Hobi’s stare from the side. Suddenly the volume of the TV is lowered and you already know what's coming, “Y/N…” you hear Hobi say, a sad tone behind his voice.

“Hobi don’t,” you cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to receive his pity, “I just don’t feel like hearing it right now.”

Hobi ignores you, knowing you were just putting up a wall as a defense mechanism, “You know he didn’t mean it,” he says, “he’s probably just having a rough day that’s all.”

“Even if he is, why does he still feel the need to just keep it to himself, why can’t he see that he can trust us, that he can trust me? Sometimes it feels like he knows a lot more about me than I know about him—” you rant, trying to keep your voice down so that Jungkook doesn’t hear you from his room.

Hobi sighs, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket and keys from the counter, “Put on your shoes,” he says, and you look at him confused before doing as he says and following him outside. The two of you then climb up the fire ladder of your apartment and onto the roof, the view of the stars sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay now sit—” he commands, which you do anyway.

“Why are we even out here?” you question, regretting not bringing your own sweater.

“Because I’m going to tell you a story, and well I don’t want Jungkook hearing us,” he says, making himself comfortable in the spot next to you, “You ready?”

Silently you nod your head yes, and so he continues.

“When I was a kid, I was what you could call ...nerdy … so to speak,” he chuckles, “I had those big ol glasses that made you look like you had fish eyes, I liked reading the Harry Potter books, I didn’t like playing sports like the rest of the boys in my elementary school did, and well in general I just wasn’t like a lot of them,” he pauses to look up at the sky, continuing once he was ready, “Now when you’re in elementary, kids won’t directly bully you, but instead they’ll make little teasing remarks because well ...we’re kids. We don’t know the big curse words yet or what we’re capable of physically. And so as a kid I’d let those jokes slide, I’d let their insults become the label put on me, not knowing the true maliciousness behind it.”

You feel your eyes become glossy, knowing where this was leading, “But the older you get, the more you begin to learn and well soon enough the teasing became full on bullying by middle school. The older kids would make these nicknames for me, and constantly call me them before, during, and after school. Occasionally even following me for a couple of blocks when walking home just to remind me that they had power over me,” Hobi’s voice begins to shake a little, “and well I didn’t know how to speak up for myself, let alone defend myself and so it just became a regular occurrence until on a certain day in middle school,” he pauses, taking a big breath. 

“I had been walking home from school that day, and for some reason that day I decided I wanted to take a different route back home, probably because I was hoping the kids who would bully me would decide not to follow me. But boy was I was wrong,” he feigns a laugh, “The route I had taken was right next to the Suyeong River, and well I think it’s important to note that I didn’t know how to swim at the time. I think I personally choose not to remember too much, but one moment I was walking and the next I had my face being pulled in and out of the water, the sounds of laughter being the thing I remember the most from that day,” Hobi closes his eyes, his voice cracking as he continues, “And I just remember thinking how could kids my age be so viscous?” tears begin to silently fall from his eyes, his hands slightly shaking at the recollection of the memory, “I thought this was it, this is the end of the line for me.”

“It wasn’t until I felt the release of my hair and the touch of someone pulling back that the nightmare came to an end,” Hobi wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “When I finally managed to get some kind of focus on my vision, I’d come to see the boy who was pushing me into the water completely knocked out the floor while the rest of his buddies were running to who knows where,” The scene from the club begins to replay in your head, remembering the person who had gotten there just at the right time.

“And then there was Jungkook, the boy I’d never seen a day in my life , helping me fix myself along with looking for my glasses even after having knocked out that boy with his bare hands. After that me and Jungkook became the best of friends, like actual genuine friends and the bullying had completely stopped. I’d also come to find out that Jungkook was a boxer, and not a casual one, like an “I practice every weekday, weekend, day, and night.” kind of one. He was aiming to go pro, and so he had to put in the time for it. His parents were supportive of it as well, as I think his dad saw the most potential in it.”  

Hobi takes a breather before continuing, finding yourself completely immersed in the story, “And so when our senior year came around and I had gotten accepted into SNU, I asked Jungkook what he was planning on doing now that we were graduating. And well that’s when he told me that had gotten an offer to train and compete in the states, where there’d be a lot more tougher competition and where he could really develop the natural talent he had. So on graduation day we had our teary farewell, and I remember telling him that if he ever needed anything and I truly meant anything, that he’d know where to find me.”

“So when years later I received a call at about 2 in the morning, asking if he could redeem the favor he had once done for me so long ago, I knew I couldn’t say no. I don’t know what happened in the states, and I don’t bother to ask him because I know that the day he’s ready to tell me or you, he will. Whatever did happen over there, changed him though. He came back a colder, more rude person, and honestly I thought he’d be like that forever until he started to get to know you,” Hobi smiles, “That’s when I began to see glimpses of the Jungkook I knew from high school again, the one who liked to mess around all the time, and never took himself too seriously.”

“You see y/n, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know that Jungkook isn’t like us in the way of opening up when he feels sad or mad. He’s used to being the one doing all the protecting and so when he finds himself in a place where he’s overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness or anger, he gives the cold shoulder or becomes someone who isn’t like him at all, in order to avoid talking about it. I think it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know the burden he carries. To sum it up y/n, Jungkook is the definition of when it rains, it pours … but when it shines, you’ll completely forget it ever rained to begin with,” Hobi pats you softly on the shoulder, “So the best thing you can do right now is let the storm play itself out, so that then you can be there when the rainbow comes back out.”

If only you had listened.

“Ahh so it was Hobi who told you everything,” Jungkook scrunches his face.

“No duhhhhh,” you sing, “Who else could have?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought you just magically figured it out on your own,” you’re unsure on whether he’s being sarcastic or not so all you is narrow your eyes at him, deciding to stay silent than make yourself look stupid.

“Mm either way Hobi made a BIG mistake telling me,” you laugh, “because he should've known my nosiness was only going to lead to problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Jungkook teases, resulting in a light smack to the shoulder.

July 2019.

It had been about a month since Jungkook’s change in behavior, his cold demeanor reminding you of when he first moved in months ago. The only time he’d ever leave his room was to go to work, use the restroom, or get his food to take to his room. You had been working on your painting whenever you got the chance, a distraction from the constant concern you felt for Jungkook. You know Hobi said to give it time, but how long would it be until Jungkook decided to finally open up? He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he?

You missed the Jungkook you had gotten to know in the last couple of months, the one who showed you that the tough wall he put up around him was nothing more than an act. That behind it, he was a complete sweetheart who liked drinking his banana milk and watching One Piece whenever he had the chance, the one who constantly liked to steal your things from your room and then replace them with an even better version, the one whose laugh sorta reminded you of Elmo but was still absolutely adorable, and lastly the one who you had found constantly by your side and falling further in love with every waking moment.

Not like, but love. You had come to realize it while you were in bed one night, your only thoughts being thunk all relating to Jungkook in some way. Remembering the number of times this month where you’d find yourself outside his bedroom door, inches away from knocking, knowing that all you needed was for him to open up the door at least once and you’d know everything was going to be okay. Sadly, you’d always find yourself chickening out, Hobi’s words always ringing in your head to serve as a reminder. Jungkook needed space. And as much as you wanted to run up to him and give him a tight hug, you knew you had to respect his boundaries.

So then why was it that today, when you found yourself painting and missing a certain color, a tiny voice in your head was telling you that maybe Jungkook had it… Realistically you knew it wasn’t possible, you had kept track of all your colors from the moment you started, but damn was that voice convincing. 

Getting up from the floor, you walk out into the living room, checking around to see if it was there. Hobi, who was currently taking a nap on the couch, seemed completely at peace.

You check his room to see if he has it, but your efforts were to no avail. The only place it had to be was Jungkook’s room. It had to be. At least that’s what you were telling yourself so could finally have an excuse to knock on his door. Making your way to his room, you prepare to knock, your knuckles lightly tapping against the wooden door. But to your surprise the door creaks open, no one presumably in the room…

You could’ve sworn Jungkook was home? You double check the restroom, making sure it wasn’t going to be an incident like last time, but this time he really wasn’t there. The voice of reasoning versus temptation now had you completely torn. You remember the day Jungkook first moved in, and how secretive he got over you seeing whatever it was inside his boxes, and the night after your date and how stern he was about you not entering.

Slowly you push open the door of his room, completely forgetting Hobi’s words and deciding that it was either now or never. You knew you were a pushing boundary that you shouldn’t be, but a part of you also felt like it had to be done. Maybe if you found out what was bothering Jungkook so much, you could help him.

Honestly, you weren't too sure on what you expected when you first entered. Considering how secretive Jungkook was about it, you sorta assumed the room would be all black and have a whole bunch of weird things hanging across the walls, but surprisingly his room looked completely normal. The bed covers were a navy blue color that matched with some of the artwork he had hung across the beige colored apartment walls. The drawers were plain and boring while his desk looked like any other ordinary desk:  stacked with random sketches, pens, One piece manga, and printed webtoons. If this is all he was hiding, then it really no made sense because there was literally nothing to hide….

That was until you saw the closed closet door, and once you opened it, you were blown away. For what was behind those closet doors was an entire memorabilia of awards, belts, photos, and trophies which you assumed were all Jungkook’s, newspapers from the states with headlines that spoke of how amazing Jungkook was. Many of them include the words “rising”, “prodigy”,  and “the next big thing”. Your eyes try to take everything in all in one go, but it was just so much. There were papers that were written about him even when he was a kid, pictures of his with several belts around his waist amazed you. This was insane.

But it wasn’t until you noticed the newspaper headline of the paper hung right in the center of the practical shrine that the smile from your face fell, as it read, “Prodigy Jeon Jungkook, K.O’d in Round 12 against Brandon Star.” You look at the date, and everything begins to start making sense. The date which read December 1, 2018, only a couple of weeks prior to your first meeting with him at New Years, the churning feeling in your stomach only becoming heavier as you read the newspaper next to it. “Rising Star, Jeon Jungkook, disappears. Where is he now?” it reads, and as you skim through the different articles, the whole memorabilia shrine begins to make sense. Jungkook didn’t have this here for the purpose of maintaining old memories, but for the purpose of constantly reminding himself of what he once was and how he ended up failing, torturing himself to say the least. It’d explain his pent up anger when you first met him, the scar was still fresh.

Grabbing one of the trophies from the memorabilia desk, you observe the glass material and admire its fine detail, Jungkook’s name written in cursive underneath the title. Slowly your fingers graze over it, whispering his name to yourself, “Jeon Ju—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice harshly interrupts, scaring you and causing you to jump. The slippery trophy in your hands falling to floors, several pieces of glass now shattered onto the floor. Turning to face the owner of the voice, your heart stops when you find Jungkook staring at the floor, an expressionless look on his face.

“I—” your brain completely freezes, only staring at his balled up fist which was becoming more red with every passing second.

“I told you—” he closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room,” he finally snaps, his enraged voice echoing across the walls of the room, “So then why, why the fuck are you in here right now!” he moves towards you, his face now becoming red in anger. Not caring whether he was stepping on glass or not.

“I know but—”

He cuts you off, “But fucking what? There’s no reason you should even be in here right now y/n! None!” he screams, his rage only furthering with every word. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you stammer to defend yourself. “How would you feel like if I barged into your room and destroyed something personal of yours, huh?”  

All you can do is stare at him, never seeing him this enraged before, the sight definitely a scary one, “Answer me goddamit!” he yells, his fist still balled up, holding himself back from punching anything. He looks down at the broken glass one more time, his chest now heaving in anger before storming out the room.

Quickly you follow him, chills going down your spine when you see him turn to your room.

“What are you—” you begin, but it’s too late. Everything happens in slow motion, from the fist being thrown to the sound of the canvas you’d been working so long on cracking, several holes and rips appearing soon after. You look at the scene in front of you in silence, shock running through your veins, and the need to vomit stronger than ever before. Jungkook breathes heavily, staring at what he’s just done, not feeling a single ounce of remorse.

The closing feeling in your throat is one that’s too overwhelming, but the anger you were now feeling was even stronger, “What is wrong with you,” you whisper, tears falling down from your eyes, a look of terror overtaking your face, “What is wrong with you!” you scream, lips trembling as your voice breaks at just how loud you were. Jungkook feels his blood run cold, taken back by your sudden outburst.

“I have been nothing but kind to you since the day we’ve met, nothing but!” you yell, hot tears uncontrollably falling from your hysteria.

Jungkook scoffs, yelling right in return, “Do you want some kind of reward for that? Is that it? Is that all this is? Another ego booster for you so you can pat yourself on the back and say you’re a good person!”

“I don’t need anything from anyone! Especially not from someone like you,” you spit, Jungkook’s jaw clenching at your response.

“Ah I knew that nice ol princess act was nothing more than mere bullshit,” he bitterly laughs, “finally had enough of your whole little treat everyone with kindness moral?” he mocks you.

“It’s not a fucking act, I’m just not a miserable person like you!” you grit your teeth, the temptation to throw something at him at an all time high.

“No you just live in this big old fantasy bubble that’s got you believing that kindness solves all the world's problems!”

“Yeah well it’s better than thinking that being a fucking prick to the rest of the world gets you anywhere, I mean look at where you’re at now!” you yell, knowing you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t care at all anymore. The ice was shattered the moment he destroyed your painting, “I understand that I made a mistake going into your room, but you don’t have to take the rest of your miserable life out on me! You think everyone around you wants to be some kind of punching bag all the time for you?” the veins in your neck begin to pop out, and you almost feel as if your chest was going to physically explode at any moment, “How dare you come in here and treat everyone around you like complete shit all because you’re living a sad tragic life!”

“That’s not true,” he snarls, a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t it?” you scoff, “You’ve done it since the first day you got here, and so let me do the favor of telling you the truth and giving you a goddamn reality check! We’re all sick and tired of it! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you get to make everyone around you as well! And let me tell you, I’ll be damned if I let someone like you make me just as rotten as yourself,” and for a small second you see the hurt across Jungkook’s face, and you think maybe you’ve gone too far. 

Maybe this could’ve all been prevented had you never entered his room. But then you think to yourself that no, this was bound to happen. This was always going to happen whether you liked it or not. The questions had always just been: when was it going to happen and what was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? By now both of your chests are heaving, and there’s a silence that fills the room. Time acts as nothing more than an illusion.

“Is that what you really think?” he says, a cold hardened expression on his face again, “That I make you miserable?” You look at the destroyed painting on the floor, a symbol that despite building and making something so beautiful, all it took was one slip of the finger for it all to go down the drain. Without saying anything, you slowly nod to him, the emptiness in your heart acting as a driving force.

“What the—” Hobi walks in the room, dazed and confused, “What the fuck is going on in here?” He asks, but the two of you remain silent, continuing to stare at one another.

That is until Jungkook breaks away from the stare, muttering a small “nothing,” under his breath, walking out of the room and going back to his own, the door loudly slamming shut.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance, a tiresome expression on your face.

“Hobi,” you shake your head, “Just leave me alone!,” you snap at him, but it comes out more as a plea than a demand, voice completely weary. Hobi stares at you for a moment before doing so, gently closing the door when making his way out. Once you hear the sound of the door close, you squat down to the floor, fingers grazing the painting you’d work so hard on, a muffled sob finally escaping from your lips.

a/n: whew! originally this was supposed to be nothing more than a small drabble, but as i kept writing it just ended becoming this monstrous of a fic that i had to split into two lmao. hopefully i didn’t make the switches between present day and the past too confusing for y’all.  part two will probably be up by next friday, once my finals week is over :)) any messages, anons, comments, reblogs, and like are appreciated! see y’all next time! 💞

[rpf-bat]

@darkerthanblack666-ao3 requested Niko/Joel with prompt #26: “Why am I always the problem! You’re just as shitty as I am.”

It wound up being 701 words.

Joel was staring up at his bedroom ceiling, wishing he could sleep, when he heard a knock at his door.

He sat up, and glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 3:00 AM.

Who the fuck is that? Joel wondered, rubbing his eyes as he got out of bed. Did Joonas lock himself out of his apartment again? I know I have his spare key for emergencies, but he ought to start remembering his own key ring, when he goes out drinking.

He stumbled into the living room, and stared through the peephole of his front door. But, the face he saw on the other side wasn’t Porko’s. It was Niko.

“Joel, please open up,” Niko slurred. “I know you’re awake. You’re always awake.”

“Are you drunk?” Joel asked, as he opened the door.

Maybe he should’ve stopped to put a shirt on, before he answered the door. He was too sleepy to think of it.

Niko dove at Joel’s bare chest, sinking his face into the pale skin of the taller man’s shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell?” Joel protested, attempting to push Niko away.

“I needed a hug,” Niko explained, straightening. “I’m sorry.”

He was definitely drunk - and he looked like had been crying.

“Come inside, I guess,” Joel sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t have you groping me in the hallway, making noise and waking all my neighbors.”

“I wasn’t groping you,” Niko scoffed, shutting the door behind him as he walked in. “It was just a hug!”

“You’re a shitty drunk,” Joel rolled his eyes. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll make some coffee, so that you sober up.”

“Coffee at three in the morning?” Niko protested. “You want me to stay up all night, like you? Why don’t you just let me sleep here?”

“Why can’t you go home and sleep in your own bed?” Joel asked, yawning.

“Why am I always the problem?” Niko argued, his tone becoming belligerent. “You’re just as shitty as I am. We both get drunk all the time, to cope with our lonely, depressing lives. I thought you would understand.”

“Yeah, but I drink alone, and I don’t bother anyone,” Joel argued.

“So I’m bothering you?” Niko frowned.

“Who goes all the way to someone’s house at this hour, for just a hug?” Joel wondered, exasperated. “I mean, I’ve had drunk girls hit me up at this hour of the night before. But, they were looking for something…a little more than that.”

“You want more?” Niko slurred. “I’ll give you more.”

“Huh?” Joel blinked. But, suddenly, he was thrown up against the wall of his kitchen, as Niko pushed him hard, and laid his lips on his mouth.

And suddenly they were kissing, and it felt so good, hands fisting into long hair, tongues fighting their way into mouths…

“Niko, wait!” Joel gasped, reluctantly pushing the smaller man off his body. “You’re drunk. I shouldn’t take advantage.”

He could taste the gin on Niko’s breath.

“I don’t care if you do,” Niko shook his head. “C’mere.”

“Well, I care,” Joel resisted. “I don’t want you to hate me when you wake up tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t hate you, man,” Niko insisted. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then you’ll hate yourself,” Joel frowned. Like I hated myself, every time I let you cuddle in my bed with me when you were drunk and lonely on tour. You’d get up the next day and ditch me like it didn’t even happen.

“I miss sharing a room with you at hotels,” Niko confessed. “I miss having you in the bunk above mine, on the tour bus. Now that we’re not on tour anymore…me being in my house…and you being in your house…it feels too far away. I’m sorry…that probably doesn’t make sense.”

His drunken ramblings actually made perfect sense to Joel. He’d missed Niko, too - even though they both still lived in downtown Helsinki.

But, does he only miss me when he’s drunk? Joel wondered, hesitating.

“If I still want to tomorrow,” Niko rambled with pleading eyes, “If I still want to when I’m sober…then can I kiss you, Joel? Please?”

“Of course you can,” Joel promised. But you won’t want to.

[pot-of-terv]

Goodness I almost didn’t finish this in time, I got a horrible migraine yesterday and today the time got away from me because I spent the day with a friend... But here it is!! I wanted to draw more but the writing took longer than I thought and now it’s so late that I should’ve been in bed over an hour ago :_D 

THEY FINALLY TALK... a little. But it’s a good beginning.

PuzzleJune 2021, Week Three: Dimension (Rules, Impossible)

It's a comfortable silence. Atem would be content to just stay there, feeling warm and loved, lodged between Yuugi's arms. Perhaps he could even doze off.

But he knows what he said, and he knows Yuugi is now waiting for them to talk. Their mental link through the Puzzle might be gone but maybe there's some kind of a residual connection left, because the feeling of expectation in the air is almost palpable.

"We're both going to get cricks in our backs if we don't move soon," Yuugi interrupts his thoughts. He sounds sleepy and some part of that guilt Atem felt before raises its ugly head.

"I– yeah," Atem mumbles and with obvious reluctance, lets go of Yuugi's waist and sits up. Something must show on his face because Yuugi peers at him curiously.

“I’m sorry for waking you, aibou,” he sighs and offers an apologetic smile. “I know you would’ve liked to sleep longer.”

Yuugi lets out a startled laugh and shakes his head.

“Uh-huh, but you’re way more important than that. You should know that, right?”

Atem is taken aback by the blatant sincerity of those words. It tends to happen a lot around Yuugi, and he’s not sure if he’s ever going to get used to it. On some level though... It feels nice. He chuckles and smiles at Yuugi, this time honestly.

“I guess I should.” He pauses. “Thank you, Yuugi.”

This time it’s his partner’s turn to look surprised. A slight blush climbs onto his cheeks which Atem notes, amused. Even now it’s not exactly a regular occurrence for him to call Yuugi by his name (it feels odd on his tongue – it’s hard to shake the memories of being called with that same name) and he resorts to ‘partner’ more often than not but he has been trying. He has his name now – no reason for him to withhold Yuugi’s own from him.

“I-it’s fine, other me,” Yuugi says and looks away, breaking their eye contact. He looks happy, though, so Atem doesn’t worry about it too much. What he does worry about is the conversation they’re about to have.

He stretches, probably more theatrically than necessary, then shuffles backwards on the bed to lean his back against the wall and snags Yuugi’s pillow to hold under his arms. He feels awkward and clumsy despite his mind having cleared up and he feels that he needs the extra comfort. Yuugi pulls his legs onto the bed and leans against the headrest.

They fall into another silence, yet this is a pondering one. Still not awkward, still not bad – Atem is pretty sure they’re not even able to have awkward silences. It’s a comforting thought and he hugs the pillow in his lap closer to his chest to cover his inappropriately goofy smile.

“We really don’t do this, huh,” Yuugi snickers after a while, breaking the stillness that had fallen over the room like a blanket.

Atem tilts his head on the side to look at him, leaning his cheek on the pillow.

“We really, really don’t,” he answers with an easy grin. Yuugi smiles back and there’s such fondness in his eyes that Atem could very well just drown in those purple depths. He sobers quickly though and his grin falters before vanishing, leaving his mouth in a tight line. He looks into Yuugi’s eyes with a new sharpness and the other boy mirrors his expression as if it’s his second nature (it probably is, considering). This is it.

“I’m so sorry for everything I put you through,” the pharaoh blurts out before he can overthink it. Yuugi looks almost shocked so he barrels on, “I know how greatly you suffered during those weeks leading up to the ceremonial duel. Those feelings were never a secret from me and I’m so, so sorry for not making it right… before it was already too late.”

There’s the familiar feeling of a lump in his throat and he fights to keep his eyes locked into Yuugi’s. He deserves honesty and Atem can’t allow himself to turn away. A shadow casts over Yuugi’s face and he's silent for a moment before speaking.

“I kind of knew. That you knew. I’m not too sure how it made me feel, though,” he says quietly. “Not very good at least, if I’m honest.”

Atem nods. He had presumed as much.

“I thought… I thought you just really wanted to leave. And I couldn’t blame you for it, I mean… you were dead, and the dead deserve their rest. And on top of it, that’s your family and friends you would’ve gotten to see in the Afterlife. Of course, it still hurt me,” Yuugi smiles sadly and lifts his knees to tuck his chin against them. “But I can’t blame you for that.”

“Why not?” Atem asks sharply and sits up straight. He squeezes the pillow against his stomach. “You have every right.”

All of a sudden Yuugi looks a little exasperated and he runs a hand through his hair, breaking their eye contact.

“Because… I don’t work that way?” he offers with a wince.

“Nah, you do,” Atem counters slyly. “You just don’t want to make me feel bad.”

Yuugi’s eyes snap back to his and the answer is written clear as day on his face.

“Well, that’s–! That’s!” he struggles to find the words before he just sighs and his shoulders slump. “Yeah. Okay. I want to blame you for it! But I can’t!”

Atem’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline as he stares at Yuugi in surprise. He opens his mouth to say something but Yuugi is faster.

“I love you too much to be able to.” His cheeks flush crimson and he slaps his hands over his face. “Don’t look at me,” he mutters, “I know that goes without saying but you just had to make me say it!”

Atem is completely speechless. Every direction he thought that this conversation could take them, this one was not what he had expected. Talk about dimensions, he thinks, perhaps a little dazed. Of course, it’s– it’s a given that they love each other–

“No,” Atem interrupts his own thoughts and throwing the pillow to the side, he crawls to Yuugi and kneels next to him. He takes a gentle hold of Yuugi’s right wrist but doesn’t pry the hand away from his face.

“It shouldn’t go without saying. Because we went with things without saying anything, you – and I – got hurt. And that should never happen again.” He takes a deep breath and feels himself smile.

“I love you, Yuugi, and that’s why I thought I had to leave. I thought you’d be happier. I couldn’t let myself be the reason you never got to live your life to the fullest, because if I stayed with you as we were, that’s what would have happened. I thought I knew the rules up until the last second.

“Turns out, I didn’t. I had another choice, a third one… I would have been a fool not to take it because that’s what I had always wanted in the deep recesses of my heart. You remember, right?” He tugs softly on Yuugi’s wrist to try to get him to look at him. “That night you asked me who I was. I told you I wanted to stay with you forever. Those feelings never changed.”

Yuugi lets his hands fall from his face but his eyes are closed tight. There are tears there, forming in the corners, and Atem wants to kiss them away. He doesn’t.

“I–,” Yuugi chokes on his words at first but keeps going, “I remember. I always remembered, but… I guess I stopped believing in it along the way. I didn’t want to hold you back, either. I never wanted to lose you but if it meant that you’d be happy, I’d do anything.”

He finally looks at Atem, eyes wet and shimmering, and laughs, voice thick with emotion.

“We’re such dummies.”

Atem holds out his hand and brushes a single tear off Yuugi’s cheek as it falls, his chest tight and heart fluttering somewhere in between his throat and ribcage. He almost doesn’t dare to talk in fear of his voice breaking... but what would that matter? They’re already laying out their hearts in front of each other, revealing the feelings that they had tried to keep private for reasons that don’t make much sense anymore – if they ever did.

“We are,” the pharaoh smiles and if his lip wobbles then be it. “Aibou… can you promise not to do anything like that anymore, to not… to not keep your feelings concealed for my sake?”

Yuugi takes his hand and squeezes. It makes warmth bloom in Atem’s chest.

“Only if you promise me the same.”

They just look at each other then, searching the other’s eyes. Would they be able to keep such a promise? After all those months of keeping things locked away, of always thinking about what they thought was the best for the other, of never talking things through? They both know it has to change, so… why not start now? They’re finally on the same page and moving forward, they need to keep it that way. Never rushing ahead or falling behind.

Simultaneously they both break into wide smiles and as Atem reaches for Yuugi’s other hand, they speak.

“I promise,” they say at the same time and it surprises neither. They laugh together, free and unburdened, and Atem leans forward to press his forehead against Yuugi’s. Yuugi meets him halfway and seeing the happiness in his eyes that close, Atem feels the prickle of tears in his own. They’re too close to look at each other for long but as they lean away they’re still smiling, still holding hands, tears now on both of their cheeks, and all is right in the world.

Despite everything, they still have each other, and their hearts are lighter. They’re aware that there’s a lot more where that came from but this is a better start than either of them could have hoped for.

They have each other, they have time, and nothing is impossible.