#help me solve a disagreement from class

[lilyrachelcassidy]

The Cat

Mattheo Riddle x Reader 

Summary: The one where Mattheo welcomes an unexpected visitor in his dormitory, which eventually leads to a confession from his side. 

Warnings: yyyhhh, not really, no; some feisty cat tho 

Word Count: 1.2k 

xoxoxxoxoxxoxoxoxoxxoxo

Mattheo cranked the handle of the shower, releasing the hot jet of water on his body. Today was positively ghastly, and he wanted to wash the emotions and memories off of him. He planned on taking a few minutes of a good read of a Daily Prophet and then plunging under the blanket where he would be able to, hopefully, forget the horror of the day.

Life, however, had even more advancing events for him to deal with because when he finally shut the stream off, he heard a jangle coming from his bedroom, the room to which the bathroom was adjoined. He suddenly froze, stock-still. 

For a moment he admonished himself for being such a weakling, therefore, he quickly recovered from his momentary trans. On autopilot, and because he wasn’t sure what to expect, he threw on some robes and exited the bathroom.

Yet before he could take one step forward, something big and furry flung to his feet. He let out a surprised howl but soon discerned that the enigmatic object actually turned out to be a fat, shabby cat with flamboyant ginger hair and a bizarre froufrou collar on its neck. Quickly recovering from the shocker and the howl, which he definitely won’t be chronicling over his family dinner, he bent over the pet and took it in his arms.

“Well, well... if you aren’t a treat for heart,” he said with a few droplets of water trickling on the cat’s fur. It hissed in dissatisfaction at which Mattheo chuckled. He scrutinized the froufrou collar yet again and noticed the printed, golden word on it which showcased ‘Henrietta’ in the cursive. “Your owner clearly must hate you, Henrietta...”

The cat hissed again, and Mattheo wasn’t sure if it was a hiss of disagreement or not, but he liked to arrogate that as long as the cat was in his arms, it agreed with his opinion.

How had the cat entered his bedroom, or why would it do it in the first place, he didn’t know. But the bond between them flourished as Mattheo stroked it a few times and was rewarded with a great, vibrating purr in response.

“Okay, let’s get you on the bed, buddy.” Stiffly, he put it on the bed with which the cat seemed to be extremely dissatisfied as it hissed again. “You didn’t possibly expect me to cradle you around all night, right? The privilege is only reserved for my cigarettes...”

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this situation next but the resolved it probably wouldn't help with him walking around butt naked. He almost reached the bathroom to change to his regular, nightly attire, but a knock came to the door.

“For Merlin’s Sake...”

As the door swung open, it revealed a girl, an absolutely dazzling one, who Mattheo had been pinning after for a few months now - Y/N. She still had the school robes on her which she enhanced with some sew-on, muggle badges, and she was wrenching both of her hands like a small child summoned to solve a task in from of the entire class. She smiled at him coyly, and Mattheo was suddenly very aware that nothing but a thin layer of cloth prevented him from fully stripping in front of her.

To be fair, he wouldn’t have minded that at all.

“Hey, sorry to... intrude. But I have been looking all over for my cat and-” She halted in the middle of the sentence as she noted Henrietta casually stretched on Mattheo’s bedsheets, staring at its owner as though it revealed a Royal Flush on the poker table. “There you are, you stupid creature! What are you doing here?”

She crouched down, evidently waiting for the cat to approach her but it made no move whatsoever nor expressed any desire of being relocated. When Y/N made the reproachful expression and hushed at it a couple of times, only then did it finally get a grip that there was no option of a sleepover.

As soon as the cat prowled over to her feet, Y/N picked it up and swiftly faced Mattheo in the standing position again. She smiled at him. “I’m sorry about that. I hope Henrietta didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Mattheo leaned over at a jamb, arms folded together. “No, of course not.” He shook his head lightly, and they both stood there grinning at each other and the absurdity of the situation they were shoved into.

“So, I think I should get going...”

But before she was able to move, Mattheo spouted off: “Don't you think I should get some kind of reward for finding your cat?”

Y/N sniggered, looking at him with amusement in her eyes. “Did you really find her? Or was it just a stroke of luck that she sauntered into your dormitory?”

At that, Mattheo smirked. He loved that someone was able to match his level of teasing. And he loved the way the corners of her lips curved, exposing a little dimple in one of her cheeks. “Technicalities.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but decided to give in to his conditions. “Fine. What do you want?”

“Go on the date with me,” he said it. Matter-of-factly. It actually cost him a much greater deal than he made the impression of; his throat went dry, and his heart picked up on the rabbit speed. And yet he was still leaning on the jamb, a smirk adorning his countenance and daring to look Y/N straight in the eyes as if it was one of the most obvious answers to that question.

That she seemed to not expect because at first, she snorted, but then apprehended that Mattheo wasn’t going to join her in laughter, thus she started goggling with a jaw hanging in consternation. That had a strangely amusing effect on Mattheo who, despite his tense body, managed to look casual. “You? On a date? With me? Do you even know who I am?”

“You are Y/N, and presumably, you are the owner of the strangely-named cat...”

“Hey! Henrietta is a very beautiful name. Have you not read ‘Persuasion’?” When Mattheo shook his head, Y/N let out a little squeak of disbelief. The cat peered at her with annoyance. “It’s only one of the greatest books ever! It’s muggle but still, something to catch up on.” 

Mattheo contemplated her face for a few seconds before the idea sprung up to his mind. “How about...” he started. “I take you to ‘Flourish and Blotts’ this weekend, and we can go over a few chapters together. Or we can go to the ‘Three Broomsticks’ and then you would tell me all about Henrietta?”

The robust blush spread over Y/N's cheeks. She set her face downcast, but a grin, even from that cant, was visible on her lips. “Only under one condition.” 

“And what is that?” asked Mattheo with a brow raised.

“You won’t poke fun at the name Henrietta ever again.” She simpered at him and that, Mattheo thought, was the sight he could admire on a daily basis.

“You got yourself a deal there, Y/N.” He extended the hand on which Y/N shook, and they both beamed at one another.

Later that night, Mattheo thought that thanks to the bloody cat, his days turned out to be one of his greater achievements, after all.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐒

summary: being thrown into the devildom unexpectedly can pose all kind of challenges for a human, from cultural differences to practical ones like an empty closet; luckily, asmo knows a demon who can help solve that last problem

pairing: dantalion (my oc) x gn! reader

warnings: insecurities (reader) but with a lot of comfort

obey me! masterlist || dantalion masterlist

You were not quite sure who thought it’d be a brilliant idea to basically kidnap a human for an exchange programme supposed to unite the three realms or who signed off on it but the fact of the matter was, you were here now. Whether anyone could have thought about a more harmonious and less overwhelming introduction would remain a discussion for another day.

In any case, what would have been rather helpful, no matter how you looked at the situation, would have been a note letting you know to pack accordingly. As it was, you were standing in an entirely new realm without so much more than the clothes on your back, let alone any form of skin, hair and other hygiene products. 

You were as grateful as you could be for the RAD uniform you were provided with, which would be a lot easier if it at least fit you a little better. The next morning at breakfast, none of the brothers could pretend it was the right size for you and something had to be done for the sake of Diavolo’s exchange programme.

“Mammon, take the human to Majolish after classes today and have their uniform altered,” Lucifer said without looking up from his newspaper, his voice leaving little room for disagreement.

Yet, the Avatar of Greed still managed to find it. “Do I have ta? There’s a shadow horse race in the afternoon.”

“I volunteer!” An excited voice chimed into the conversation and you looked over to see Asmodeus basically glowing with anticipation. “But maybe I deserve some kind of reward for taking care of the human when it’s not my job.”

“Fine,” Lucifer pinched the space between his brows with an exasperated sigh, “I’ll cover some of your inevitable expenses.”

“You’re the best, Luci~”

And with that you found yourself waiting for Asmo at the front gate of RAD where Mammon had unceremoniously dropped you off. As nervous as you were to go to the establishment the Avatar of Lust had been raving about all day, you were looking forward to not keeping your head down in the hallways after this day. Being an exchange student made you interesting enough, being an exchange student with ill-fitted clothes made you the talk in the hallways.

“Don’t look so glum, hon, you’ll spoil the fun of shopping,” Asmo greeted you before immediately dragging you along in the direction of the shopping district.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you tried not to trip over your own feet in an effort to keep up with him. He had quite the power-walk when there was something he wanted, it seemed. “I just can’t help but be a little nervous when you talk about someone else so favourably.”

“Who? Oh, Talion, you mean?” He giggled, clearly amused you’d stress over something like this. “Don’t worry, he’s an absolute sweetheart, even to demons who aren’t exactly me. You’ll be fine.”

As comforting -for lack of a better word- as his words were, you started to doubt them when you stood in front of a store looking like it wasn’t just leagues but realms out of both your price and social class. There wasn’t a single speck of dirt on the crystalline glass windows sporting the gold-foiled lettering of the Majolish brand.

There was little time for you to reconsider your decision to come here though as your shopping buddy was already breezing through the doors of the shop. If you thought the outside of Majolish was impressive, the inside had you actively reminding yourself to breathe. Confronted with mirror-smooth black marble floors and pristine white walls, you almost didn’t dare look up. 

Yet, what would normally be a set up for a cold room, the atmosphere was lightened by the colourful plants and golden accents distributed around the room. And that didn’t even take into consideration the clothes lining the walls or the jewellery displayed. Just who was the demon running a store this lavish?

“Talion!” Asmo sing-songed without a care. “It’s me!”

“Ah Asmo, what a pleasant surprise,” a melodic voice sounded from the top of the stairs. Following it with your eyes, your jaw almost dropped onto the polished floors. For the first time since coming to the Devildom, you questioned Asmo’s claims of being the most beautiful demon around.

The stranger was tall and slender with legs for days and hair so silky he might as well have been an elven prince walking straight out of a human fantasy novel. As he floated down the stairs, you got to appreciate the way his dark blue dress pants and white dress shirt accentuated his waist. 

The attention-grabber of his outfit would have to be the coat he had thrown over his shoulders. Somehow, the bright turquoise and vibrant green of the coat worked well together and complimented the hairpin he had used to secure half of his ivory blond hair at the back of his head. With every click of his heels on the stairs, the jingling of his golden jewellery echoed through the room, but rather than annoying it was entrancing. You weren’t sure if many others could pull off a look like that and look so sinfully handsome while doing it.

Most intriguing despite all of this, however, were the bright eyes mustering you from behind round, blue-stained glasses. You couldn’t quite tell which colour they really were but they were beautiful nonetheless. Then, the demon turned his attention to your companion as he came to a halt in front of you. 

“Well then, my friend, to what do I owe the honour?” A pleasant smile played around his lips before casting his glance in your direction again. “Though I can make an educated guess already.”

Your face heated up at the probable implication that you were so shabby it needed his immediate help. Granted, you were no demon and you had no access to any of your usual care products or makeup, but was it really that bad?

“Mh yes, can you alter their uniform for a better fit? Nobody knew their size before the exchange programme started,” Asmo sighed. “So, gracious as I am, I took it upon myself to bring them here.”

“Without any ulterior motive, of course,” the man chuckled. “Since you are oh so gracious, would perhaps also do us the honour of introducing us?”

“Oh right,” Asmo said, clearly having skipped over this courtesy already in his mind. He courtly introduced you before gesturing at his friend. “And this is Dantalion, the owner of Majolish.”

Why were you not surprised Asmo personally knew the owner of a fashion store?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, truly. May I?” Turning to you with his full attention this time, you needed a second to understand what he was getting at, before you noticed his manicured hand hovering over your shoulder. At your consent, pristine nails picked at your uniform. “Oh dear, what a crime. I should have an earnest word with Diavolo about how he treats his exchange students. Perhaps you should sue him.”

“I’m not sure if I should sue the Prince of the Devildom on my second day here,” you laughed nervously. 

“It would make you super famous I bet,” Asmo chimed in, already surveying the clothing hangers around him.

“A strong point against doing that, then,” you deadpanned. “I’ll bring it to his attention but for now I just want a uniform that fits.”

“Understandably so. How could you feel comfortable when you’re not even properly dressed?” In the faintest of touches, his slender fingers rested against your upper back as he steered you up the stairs and to the back of the store. “Asmo, make yourself at home, though I doubt you need the encouragement. I will take care of this little gem in the meantime.”

You didn’t quite catch your housemate’s response, too busy determining if you misheard or if the tint of his glasses obscured his vision. Before you could reach a conclusion, Dantalion had already led you to stand on a circular, elevated platform far away from the bustle of customers browsing the store. Perhaps you should feel at least a little twinge of uneasiness, being alone with a demon you didn’t know, but you didn’t feel an ounce of malintent coming from him. Plus, Asmo seemed to deem it safe, so you could blame it on him if something happened.

“Now, I must ask you to take off your blazer, so I can take your measurements. Don’t worry, I won’t ask any more of you.” He waited patiently for you to shrug off your jacket and hand it to him, before neatly folding it and placing it on a table. “Please lift your arms… Just like that, perfect.”

The next minutes were a blur of a measuring tape wizzing around you without any of Dantalion’s physical help while a turquoise quill hovered in front of you, scribbling down measurements you presumed. The demon merely surveyed the scene and the notes from behind his shades. Then, the flurry stopped and all utensils neatly tucked themselves away.

“There you go, all done,” Dantalion smiled at you as he extended a hand to help you off the pedestal. “Now that the boring formalia is done, we can go over to the fun part.”

“The fun part?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought I only came here to get my uniform altered.”

“Darling, based on what I’ve seen so far, I’d venture a guess to say your wardrobe isn’t exactly bursting with clothes, is it? Plus, I’d assume you’d feel more comfortable with a change of clothes while I fix the ones you’re currently wearing,” he said, his calming voice surrounding you as he let you down another hall. You hadn’t even thought about that. “Besides, it’d be a first if Asmodeus was done already.

“Now, then…” Dantalion pushed up his shades as he looked at you, tilting his head to the side and bringing a hand to his chin in contemplation. With a clear view of his eyes, you understood why you couldn’t place their colour earlier. It was like looking into an iridescent kaleidoscope, changing colour as he turned his head. “Ah I see, I think I have the perfect idea.”

That was how you found yourself in a changing room, a multitude of clothes folded on the chair and hanging from the fixtures, all coordinated into their own outfits already. Dantalion implored you to take your time and tell him immediately if something wasn’t to your liking. 

Picking the first outfit, you quickly slipped on the different pieces only to be surprised that not only the size was on point but also the colour and fabric were to your liking. How he knew to pick a style you had always wanted to try but felt was a bit too out of your comfort zone was beyond you, but you couldn’t help but feel excited rather than intimidated by his choice.

When you exited the changing room, Dantalion took your crumpled uniform from you before studying his work. Skilled hands smoothed out any wrinkles that might have appeared and masterfully tucked your clothes to sit just right. 

“That’s much better, isn’t it? It’s amazing how much the right clothes can help in bringing out one’s natural beauty.” Dantalion reached for a box on the desk next to him, where a wide range of jewellery and accessories were arranged. “I believe the human world has a saying that goes as follows: ‘Clothes make the man’. I am inclined to agree even if not fully.”

“Well, even the nicest clothes can’t turn someone into a diamond,” you let slip before screwing your mouth shut. Perhaps it was the nerves from the new environment or how comfortable you felt around Dantalion but you really didn’t think now was the time for a pity party. “Sorry, I— The clothes you chose really are beautiful but it’s still me who’s wearing them.”

“Yes, it’s true that not everyone is diamond.” With a finger under your chin, he gracefully lifted your head to meet his mesmerising eyes. There was no mockery in them, instead they softened around the edges as his voice enveloped you like a gentle breeze. “But gems are hardly the only beautiful thing around.

“The shine of a diamond cannot be compared to the softness of silk, the luminosity of a star or the sweet melody of a song.” Even as his hand left your skin, you didn’t find the strength to pull away from his gaze. “A diamond hardens under pressure but a flower requires loving care and gentle treatment to thrive or it will wilt. Similarly, it makes no sense to compare the beauty unique to us to that of someone else. And we all have different needs which need to be met in order for us to glow our brightest.”

“It’s hard to disagree with you when you put it that way,” you chuckled lightly, feeling a little lightheaded from the sincerity with which he soothed your worries. Could he really be a demon?

“That’s the truth I’ve come to learn after doing my job for the last couple of centuries,” Dantalion responded in an amused chuckle. As he leant in to fasten the clasp of a necklace in your nape, you caught a trace of his scent which you already missed the second he pulled away to fix the pendant resting against your skin.

“Be that as it may, even a gem can’t hold out under constant pressure. It will crack sooner or later. You have to cut and polish it once it has hardened, and then—,” Dantalion’s eyes lit up with a spark of mischief before he reached for your hand and quickly spun you around like a dancer, “Then, you must show it off, wouldn’t you agree?”

You were staring straight ahead into a mirror, his hand still holding yours while his other steadied you by the hip. Looking at your own reflection hasn’t always been the easiest thing. Flaws and insecurities had the nasty habit of clamouring for your attention the loudest, whereas your strengths took a quiet backseat. But for the first time, it was as if you were looking at yourself not through your own but through the eyes of someone else.

The fabric of your outfit draped around you just right, accentuating certain features of your body that sculpted your physique flatteringly. The colours complimented your natural complexion in a way that made your skin glow even without the sunlight and the jewellery brought your attention to all the right places.

“How does that feel?” He asked, his voice low so it wouldn’t shatter the atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

“Good… It feels really good, Dantalion.” You met his iridescent eyes through the mirror again when a pleased hum left him at your praise.

“Earlier you said it was still ‘just you’ who wore these clothes,” he said, hands coming up to smooth over your shoulders. “But I do not see what’s so wrong with that. After all, I chose these clothes just for you.”

“I see the error of my ways,” you joked and you realised you felt completely relaxed for the first time since you arrived in the Devildom. “I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“Oh nonsense, dear, it’s my job,” he waved you off. His earrings jingled as he flicked a strand of hair back over his shoulder. “If you really want to thank me, you could try on the rest of the clothes I prepared for you. It’s not often I get to dress humans, so I’d love if you could indulge me.”

A few hours later, you met up with Asmodeus at the entrance, who was holding even more bags than you. When he saw you, he appreciatively flicked his sunset-coloured eyes over you, from head to toe and back up. 

“My my, our human cleans up nicely. It’s a shame you’ll have to wear your uniform most of the time,” Asmo said as he winked at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“You seem to have been rather successful yourself,” you pointed out, eyeing his shopping bags.

“Of course, everything looks good on me after all,” he beamed and you couldn’t find it in you to be annoyed with him. Then, his eyes lit up with what was either something amazing or a soon-to-be headache. “Ooh, I just had a great idea! Let’s have a little fashion show in my room once we get back, I’ll even do your nails!”

“How could I refuse?” You sighed but it lacked any actual bite.

Dantalion had watched your banter quietly but his curling lips and crinkling eyes gave away his amusement, even behind the shades he put on again. Clearing his throat when your conversation seemed to lull, he caught your attention and handed you another bag.

“Your uniform,” he explained when he saw the confusion in your eyes. “You can hardly go to RAD without it.”

“Oh but— Don’t you have to keep it to alter it?” 

“Come on, look around, hon,” Asmo slung an arm around your shoulders and made a sweeping gesture to the shop around you. “Altering clothes is as easy as breathing to him, what did you think how long he’d take?”

“You flatter me, my friend,” Dantalion chimed in. “He is right though, I took care of it while you were trying on new clothes.”

“It’s- I—“ You knew that magic was incredibly efficient yet it perplexed you regardless. “You’re pretty amazing, huh?”

For a moment so brief you might have imagined it, his brows shot up in surprise before his face smoothed over again and he gifted you another award-winning smile.

“I will take your high praise to heart,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I’ve put all your expenses on Diavolo’s tab, so don’t worry about that. Asmo, I see Lucifer is paying for your entire haul?”

“Jup, that’s right~”

“Wait, can you just do that?” You weighed in. “I mean, having Lord Diavolo pay for my things.”

“It’s my store, so… Yes, I can,” Dantalion stated matter-of-factly. “I am under the impression that as an exchange student, Diavolo should ensure you’re not lacking anything during your stay in the Devildom. Besides, how can he expect you to fulfil your duties to the programme when you can’t even present yourself comfortably? You may quote me on this if he has a problem with it, which I consider to be highly unlikely.”

“Thank you so much,” you sincerely said. Again. “I still feel like I should repay you somehow.”

“You should be careful with saying something like this to a demon,” he said, a spark of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint flashing behind his frames before it was gone just as quickly. “If you really are this keen on doing something for me, perhaps you’d find the time to stop by again soon. I’d love to hear more about human world fashion. Perhaps we could run an edition of Devil Style on it…”

“Before you get too carried away, Talion,” Asmo interrupted, “we really have to get going or Luci’s going to flip. We should really catch up again soon though!”

“You’re right, we should, ” Dantalion said as he showed you to the door. When Asmo had already sauntered out of the door, you turned to the tall demon trying to find the right words to say but he beat you to it. “It really was a pleasure to meet you, little gem. Be safe on your way home and remember you are always welcome here.”

Like earlier, his slender fingers caught yours and he brought your hand up to his soft lips, which brushed the back of your hand in a featherlight kiss. For the millionth time this day, your face turned into a furnace as his eyes found yours over the rim of his glasses. Just when you thought he couldn’t get any more attractive, his eyes narrowed triumphantly and a playful smirk tugged at his plush lips and your heart might have skipped a beat.

The moment which felt like an eternity, but in reality only counted a few seconds, was cut short when Asmo called for you to hurry it up. Releasing you from what only could’ve been a spell, Dantalion held the door open for you as you frantically searched for something to say.

“I’ll see you soon then,” was what you finally settled on, voice slightly unsteady with the pulse still beating in your ears.

“I look forward to it,” he smiled pleasantly before nudging you in the direction of Asmodeus. “You should go now. Demons aren’t known to be the most patient when there’s something they desire.”

As Majolish’s doors swung shut behind you and you rejoined your housemate, you turned his last statement over in your head. You felt like there was more to it but couldn’t put a finger on it. Perhaps you’d ask Dantalion about it the next time you’d see him.

For now, you were content to simply relive the events of the day, met with iridescent colours each time you closed your eyes, the soft fabric of your new clothes enveloping you.

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[probablynotnothing]

This picture is from a book called "all along you were blooming" by morgan harper nichols.

its almost unbearably hard trying to be a human who is good, careful, smart, forward thinking, and doesnt harm others. i didnt experience pain like this when i was younger. i know now i dont use any substances at all it is also terrifying and frightening to experience emotions i prevented ever experiencing when i was younger. through numbing in many various ways. some of these emotions its not necessary for me to experience but i dont know yet which these are. so coming off the tail end of the season of pointing my anger against myself, i will use the last remains of this guilty desire to harm myself by experimenting with what does and doesnt help me in certain contexts.

It's so difficult to know myself and what works for me to do to feel better in different circumstances, since i relied on drugs, sex and food when younger in a way that I now associate with my downfalls and shame. Yes many things i did to cope and make myself feel better when younger had outcomes not in my best interest, but there was really magic in doing things by consulting my inner desire and enjoyment. i want to do that now and minimize harm (financial, health, relational) while also being compassionate to myself that my brain doesn't experience joy and rewards with the things that "it should" experience rewards with. I dont have patience, i dont like arts and crafts, I like hands on activities and exploring and learning, and thats ok.

I cant problem solve it and know all the answers right now regarding how to think about myself and life. i'm frustrated so many people know who they are and what theyre doing, and that they feel inherently rewarded doing the things that take me massive willpower to force myself to do. i feel betrayed that i don't enjoy doing much and certainly don't seem to enjoy anything "upright" and "productive".

i have so much debt and dont have any financial plans in place. i keep eating out because its the only way i can feel comfort and pleasure lately and i don't have the energy and patience to cook like i used to. i know my unhappiness directly relates to my job, and my job directly relates to my financial constraints. it seems like a self perpetuating cycle. Don't know the way out but im grateful to remember this is a major aspect of my unhappiness and anger, and I'm not just "broken". I'm experiencing appropriate human emotions for a human in my circumstances and history.

I force myself to go to these classes I dread each week because i tell myself if I don't I may be stuck in my exhausting dead end job forever and never get closer to my goals and just keep breaking down my body more with overworking myself in fast paced physical labor jobs. I'm experiencing the discomfort of something new yes- but I am also experiencing the discomfort of incompatibility and disagreement in philosophy (dog training), and a lack of inherent rewards. I'm trying to force myself to behave in a way I think I should to accomplish my goals, but doesnt the path my end goal need to be filled with things i find bearable and rewarding in order to confirm i'm on the path?

I keep on feeling like a ghost. winding up in situations where i dont want to be rude and infringe ("who am i to sidetrack this person's path"). while its important to be able to quietly peacefully depart paths and leave into the night, at some point i do need to also learn how to be honest about confusion, disagreements, etc. because i need compassion for myself, to be willing to take up room and help those who may not want to ask for help or admit they need help, and i need others to help me by giving me opportunities so i can selfishly have a job that is actually compatible with me and my inherent advantages/ strengths and disadvantages/weaknesses.

I need to recognize for myself the difference between sincerely liking someone and being compatible, and the difference of living in "customer service mode" and trying to be likable and peaceable with everyone.

When i survived when i was younger, and got out of homelessness, could i have accomplished it in ways that didnt involve gritting my teeth and forcing myself to "stick with the program"?

it feel like an overwhelming disaster to examine and sort through how my unhappiness relates to practical matters of the present or past memories, but its worth it for me to try to find my peace adn happiness, and try to get to the life i want to live, even when it feels impossible.

[your-divine-ribs]

The Christmas Wish Part 1

Words: 2k

Single Dad Van’s kids only have one special wish for Christmas // Christmas fluff // a friends to lovers story 🤍

The Christmas Wish Masterlist Main Masterlist

🤍 Sacha's POV 🤍

"Miss Wilson! Miss Wilson! Ryan just said a bad word!"

"Did not!"

"Yes you did! I heard you! If Santa finds out you've been naughty you won't get any presents, that's what my daddy says!"

"Don't be stupid! Santa's not even real! Aghhhhh!"

"Hey, hey! What's going on over there?" I darted across the classroom just as the tears erupted, sinking down on to my knees on the carpet. I wasn't expecting to see Ryan Carter, the class trouble-maker, in tears. He was normally the cause of any upset, yet here he was, face bright red and blotchy whilst he jabbed an accusing finger at one of his class-mates Grace McCann.

"She kicked me!" He sobbed, finger still outstretched whilst the other hand was wrapped around a reddened shin.

"He said Santa wasn't real!" Grace shot back, her face screwed up in defiance, hands folded across her chest as she stared her class-mate down.

In truth I was glad to see someone stand up to Ryan but I couldn't let my true feelings show. As a primary school teacher I had responsibilities. I was a guiding light to a class full of seven year olds so I couldn't just let casual violence slide, even though a well placed kick to the shins of the class bully was wholly well-deserved. The only trouble was it was the second time Grace had lashed out at him this week. Although she'd swore blind that Ryan had accidentally trapped his finger in his desk drawer after he was making mean comments to one of the other children, I hadn't missed the poorly hidden smirk Grace had worn as he'd howled in pain.

"Grace, is this true? Did you kick Ryan?"

"I did but he deserved it!" The little girl pouted, her cheeks flushed and rosy, her tiny brows pulled into a frown. "If you say you don't believe in Santa out loud it ruins the magic and then he won't come. I was trying to shut him up."

I told myself I shouldn't have favourites.  Every teacher did though, it was only natural. Grace was one of mine. Her feisty demeanour and quick-temper was balanced out by a big heart and a natural effervescence that I couldn't help but warm to. She was the first to volunteer for anything, always eager to help, her bright and enquiring nature usually a delight to teach. It was just situations like this that were becoming more commonplace that had me tearing my hair out. I couldn't brush over it with just a simple telling off this time either, it was against the school rules... and as a newly qualified teacher I had to adhere to them.

"Nobody deserves to be physically hurt no matter what they've done. It's not the way to solve a disagreement. Now we had this very same discussion last week didn't we Grace? And what did I tell you then?"

I spoke with an even tone, trying not to react to the way the little girl's lower lip trembled, her eyes becoming glossy as they flooded with unspilt tears.

"You said that if it happened again you'd have to call my parents," she muttered quietly, now subdued.

"That's right... so it looks like Mr and Mrs McCann are going to be getting a phone call from me then doesn't it?"

God, I hated disciplining the kids. It was the worse part of the job. Difficult but necessary. I thought it might be easier if they were my own children, I wouldn't feel so bad then. Then I'd know for sure if they'd truly been naughty or if they were acting up for another reason. I'd done all the mandatory training courses, learnt all about possible reasons that usually well-behaved kids developed an uncharacteristic disruptive streak. I wondered whether something was going on with Grace, some kind of home trouble that had brought on this atypical aggression. She'd always been feisty and stuck up for herself but this was a whole other level.

"Please Miss Wilson, please don't call them. I'm trying to be good, I really am. I really need Santa to come through for me... especially after what happened last year."

"What happened last year?" I probed, shifting into a sitting position on the carpet. I pulled out a small chair opposite me, patting the seat, urging Grace to sit down. A quick glance up had reassured me that Ellie, my class teaching assistant had everything under control. She was currently comforting Ryan, successfully distracting him with some festive crafts.

Grace pulled a face, conflicted as to whether she should confide in me. She sat down nevertheless, leaning in to whisper even though no one could hear over the background babble of twenty-five children.

"I shouldn't talk about Christmas wishes, it's the rules. It's a secret between me and Santa."

I smiled, recalling my own childish wonder at the magic of Christmas all those years ago. It had been so real back then. Sometimes I thought it was a shame that children had to grow up and turn into skeptical, cynical adults.

"Of course," I said in agreement. "You don't actually have to tell me the wish you made, but did anything bad happen?"

Grace's face fell as she focused on an obviously painful memory.

"It was just before last Christmas that mummy and daddy started fighting. I tried... I tried really hard to be good. I asked Santa to make them love each other again but it didn't work." Her eyes widened at once and she slapped a hand over her mouth with a gasp, horrified that she'd just let out the secret wish and broken her own rules. "I shouldn't have said!"

"It's okay," I tried to placate her, placing a reassuring hand on her forearm. "I won't say anything, don't worry. I'm guessing your wish didn't come true?"

It was all starting to fall into place now, the reason for Grace's outbursts, her erratic behaviour... it's just the timing was off. She'd seemed much more carefree at the beginning of the school year and that was September. Maybe something else was the cause.

"Uh-huh," she nodded in dismal confirmation. "I think Santa didn't give me my wish because I was naughty, I just don't know what I did wrong. I thought it might be different this year... if I was really good..."

"You wished for the same thing again?"

My heart ached for the little girl before me. All of a sudden I was twelve years old again, sitting on the floor in my bedroom with my back pressed against the door, my headphones on with the volume turned up as loud as my ears could stand it to drown out the sound of my own parents arguing viciously. I'd been older than Grace but it didn't make it any easier seeing the two people I loved the most in the world falling out of love.

Grace sighed. "No, it's a different wish this year, but I can't say." She mimed pulling a zip across her mouth. "It'd be silly to wish for the same thing again. Mummy and daddy aren't getting back together, I know that now. Mummy's got a new boyfriend, see."

"And what's he like?" I enquired, watching her closely, relieved when she broke into a smile.

"He's nice... but he's not daddy... no one's as nice as daddy."

I smiled back as her grin grew until her whole face lit up, her blue eyes sparkling. "He's a rockstar you know, he's super famous and he plays the guitar and he sings really good. He has loads of fans. Everyone loves him."

"I remember you telling me about him."

I thought back to 'show and tell' at the start of term, Grace proudly bringing in a CD so she could show the class her dad's music. She'd instructed me to play a track called Hourglass because her mum and dad had penned the lyrics together. She'd told me it was a love song so I assumed it'd be safe to play. I sniggered internally when I recalled how I'd had to dive across the classroom to switch the music off after Grace's dad dropped an F bomb exactly 22 seconds into the song. I probably should have checked it out first before playing it to a classroom full of innocent seven year olds really. The fact that the album cover had featured a cartoon drawing of a couple with their hands shoved down each other's trousers should have probably given me cause for concern.

Grace's smile faded fast to be replaced by a glum expression. "He's the best... but I guess mummy doesn't think that anymore. She told him he loved the band more than her. She even said it was more important to him than me and my little brother! I don't think I was supposed to hear that but I did."

I wished I could have said something to make it all better for her but I knew that I couldn't. Not right now when the pain was still raw. It would get better though, I knew from experience that the age-old adage of time being a great healer was actually true. I just hoped that her parents were mindful of their children whilst they navigated the stormy waters of their breakup. Mine hadn't been and the scars still lingered, even all those years later. I made a mental note to discuss Grace's worries with either Mr or Mrs McCann, whichever one I ended up seeing to discuss their daughter's behaviour.

"I'm sure that's not true," I tried to reassure her. "Look Grace, grown ups say things they don't mean all the time, especially when they're mad at each other. I know it's hard to understand but sometimes people fall out of love and it's nobody's fault. Sometimes things just don't feel the same anymore. No one can fix it, not even Santa."

Grace's bottom lip started trembling again, her hands balling into fists in her lap. "But what if mummy and daddy stop loving me and Leo? What are we gonna do then? If they know I've been naughty they'll be so mad at me!"

Oh shit... I'd been trying to reassure her but now she looked even more upset. I floundered for a second but quickly recovered, reaching out for her hands and taking them in mine.

"Your mummy and daddy love you and your brother very much. You're probably the most important things in their lives... in fact scrap probably... you are the most important things. I know you are!"

"Really?"

Grace looked up at me from under her long lashes, eyes wide and hopeful.

I tipped her a little wink. "Yes really... Santa even told me so."

"You... you mean you actually know Santa?" She asked in astonishment, sitting forward on the edge of the seat. I allowed a knowing smirk to curve my lips, secretive.

"Oh yeah, I have a direct line to Santa, all the teachers do. It's not just mummies and daddies that tell Santa who should be on the nice list."

I watched Grace's mouth fall slack as she stared at me for a second, then she was glancing around surreptitiously at her classmates like I'd just entrusted her with the most confidential top secret knowledge. I grinned at her, pressing my index finger against my lips and she nodded quickly before slipping down off the seat and rushing to take a seat at her desk.

A small sigh of relief escaped me as I rose up on to my feet.

"Oh my god Sacha, I can't believe you used the old 'be good, Santa's watching' trick. I thought it was only parents that were allowed to use that one!"

Ellie was beside me, nudging me with an elbow, grinning and shaking her head.

"Don't judge me," I laughed, pleased to see Grace with her head in her reading book, carefully following the text with a finger. She usually didn't have the patience for reading on her own. "I don't think I'll be getting any more trouble from Grace McCann this side of Christmas."

Little did I know, this was only the start of it...

[ekacucumber]

Ninjagotober 2023

by @alastair-1205

╔ ⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤ ╝❀╚ ⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤ ╗

❀ Prompt: Companion

❀ Main characters: Sensei Garmadon, Yumi(OC), Zane

❀ Timeline: Between seasons 2 and 3

❀ Summary: Yumi has a hard time when she doesn't understand her purpose. She only embarks on the path of accepting her essence of the Dream Master.

❀ Word count: 547

╚ ⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╔ ❀ ╗⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤ ╝

Yumi, as always, stays after the lesson for extra exercise. As children leave the territory of school, Sensei Garmadon sits down in front of her with reassuring smile.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"I guess so..." she replies with a sigh.

Mentor's smile fades, his face turns serious.

"You guess? No, that's not the spirit. Is something bothering you?"

"N-no, Sensei, I'm ready," Yumi closes her eyes to get started.

"This won't do. I ask again: is something bothering you?"

Yumi is silent for a few seconds, hesitating and crumpling the edge of her shirt. "I... I just have a question."

"So?"

"Master... Why do we carry on? I mean, am I even needed as much as you assume? It's a peaceful time, and also Ninja are doing well on their own, I don't think I can be helpful... I'm afraid they don't really need the Dream Master."

Garmadon sighs heavily, as if about to say something important and at the same time difficult.

"Listen to me, Yumi. The peace is fragile. The least imbalance leads to consequences... And it's not only about Ninjago. It's also about a team which can be destroyed due to disagreement. Do you get this part?"

Yumi nods.

"Being a Dream Master is not about fighting alongside. It's about keeping the balance. Dream Masters used to be at the back and help Elemental Masters to recover after tough battles. They chose to use their powers to heal, not to fight. They were never warriors, but great companions."

Yumi looks at her mentor with slight perplexity. Everything Garmadon says about previous Dream Masters always seems something sublime and distant. She remains silent for a bit after the monologue's ending.

"So... Do you want to tell me that I should define myself as a companion?"

"You find your own answer to this question. If you want to think about it more, we can postpone your meditation classes until your mind is clear from uncertainty."

"... Yes, please."

*＊✿❀⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤❀✿＊*

"Here!" Zane reaches out and lets Falcon sit on his forearm. "It's Falcon, my friend."

Yumi looks at Falcon with pure interest. She has never seen a bird so close.

"So, you became friends with a wild predatory bird?" She asks, trying to stroke him. Falcon sharply squeaks under her hand, but does not resist.

"Well, he was constructed to be my companion, so we have some kind of connection."

Hearing these words, Yumi finally realizes why the bird's head seems too smooth and the feathers too stiff. He's made of metal.

"Oh. That is... That's a great work. Looks very... Natural," she even forgets some words. Falcon squeaks again and soars to the sky.

Yumi can't help but think of the word "companion". It's just stuck in her head like a riddle she can't solve. What does it mean to be a companion? Is she a good companion? Will it make her a good Dream Master?..

"Something's wrong, Yumi?" Zane asks in a concerned voice. "You seem sad."

"Uh... No, I'm fine," she shakes the bad thoughts off. "I think you're lucky to have Falcon and the team by your side."

"That's true. It's really good." Yumi looks at Zane's smiling face and averts her eyes.

She's the only one who must search for the solution.

[dont-we-all-need-some-space]

💔Being Bullied💔

Middle school was more work then elementary school ever was, it was tiring dealing with the other kids, tiring to deal with schoolwork that would become homework if not done within the allotted time in class. School was a place for learning and not to make friends.

This is something I held myself to for years. It was my mantra. I had outgrown acting out because I had learned that no one truly cared about how a child feels when they are acting out for attention when they can't even explain why they did what they did without the simple phrase "They started it."

I had kept to myself, yet it's hard to keep to yourself when you're crammed into a room with an underpaid teacher, and 15 to 20 other kids you barely know, shifting from room to room, according to a piece of paper that told you where you needed to be at any given moment when you were in school.

I had this one girl who aggravated me to no end. I'm not sure what it was about us that made us go for each other's throat. Maybe I was an easy target being the lonely person that I was, maybe they saw something in me that reminded her of how she was and she hated that reminder, maybe she was jealous of me some how.

The reasons are irrelevant now, but the memories remain. We had classes together. The first incident of being with this force of annoyance in my daily school life was in class. The teacher had told the class to take out our homework, yet instead of us turning in the work and the teacher grading those assignments themselves.

The teacher had told us to swap with our neighbor, and I was the one sitting next to her. I will refer to her as Kimberly to help elaborate my thoughts and feelings, but this is not her real name.

Now Kimberly and I barely talked, I kept to myself, and she had her two friends that I barely registered any thought towards. As the teacher went over the problems one at a time on the white board projector. It was either Math or English, the subject is unimportant, but the comment that she had mad was etched into my brain like a delinquent craving their name into a desk in the backrow of the class.

As the teacher went over the problems, Kimberly would constantly complain that my writing was unclear, and that she couldn't read it, however, I wrote in legibly neat print. Now Kimberly didn't have any learning disabilities, I made specific note of that when the teacher has asked if she had problems reading other written word and that she could clearly read everything else but this chicken scratch.

This was the start of a very bad relationship, that I tried to ignore, that I tried so hard to push out of my mind day after day I'd attend school, until one day toward the end of the 6th grade year, we had gotten into a very bad disagreement, and it was similar to problems she had with another student. The other student shall be revered to as Dorothy. Now Kimberly was a bully to not only me, but also Dorothy, to the point where all three of us had to be called into the guidance counselor. The guidance counselor had sat us down, had us talk out our specific problems and then simply solved it by switching Kimberly and Dorothy's schedules.

I no longer saw Kimberly in my classes, and it was a blessing, and Dorothy and I were both little weirdos that just kind of clicked, and it was good for a while.

[myfitbrain9]

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[pandeypankaj]

What are some typical data scientist interview questions?

Data scientist interview questions typically cover a range of topics, including technical skills, problem-solving abilities, and domain knowledge. Here are some categories and examples of questions you might encounter in a data scientist interview:

Technical Questions

Programming

How do you handle missing data in a dataset using Python?

Write a function to calculate the mean of a list of numbers.

Statistics and Probability

Explain the difference between Type I and Type II errors.

How do you interpret a p-value?

Machine Learning

Explain the bias-variance tradeoff.

What is overfitting and how can you prevent it?

Describe how a random forest algorithm works.

Data Manipulation

How do you merge two datasets in Pandas?

Explain the difference between a left join and an inner join.

Data Visualization

How would you visualize the distribution of a single continuous variable?

What types of plots would you use to show the relationship between two categorical variables?

Problem-Solving and Case Studies

Scenario-Based Questions

You are given a dataset with user behavior on an e-commerce website. How would you approach predicting user churn?

How would you design an A/B test to determine the effect of a new feature on user engagement?

Real-World Problems

How would you handle an imbalanced dataset?

Explain a machine learning project you have worked on from start to finish.

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Describe your experience working in a cross-functional team.

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How would you approach building a recommendation system for a streaming service?

What metrics would you consider important for measuring the success of a marketing campaign?

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How have you used SQL in your previous projects?

Describe your experience with cloud platforms like AWS or Azure for data science.

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How would you estimate the number of taxis needed in New York City at any given time?

If you have a biased coin, how would you use it to generate a fair result?

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Scenario-Based:

Question: How would you detect anomalies in a dataset?

Answer: I would start by understanding the domain and the data to define what constitutes an anomaly. Then, I would use statistical methods like z-scores or interquartile range to identify outliers. For more complex cases, I might use machine learning techniques such as isolation forests, one-class SVM, or autoencoders to detect anomalies.

Behavioral:

Question: Can you describe a time when you had to learn a new tool or technology quickly?

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Preparing for these types of questions can help you showcase your skills, experience, and problem-solving abilities effectively in a data scientist interview.

[ambermation]

YANDERE!STEPHEN STRANGE X DAUGHTER!READER

Reader is teenage daughter of Christine Palmer and Stephen Strange (around 16 years old). Set before Christine died.

Also this is requested by Onesaki_Chan! Thank you for suggesting a platonic yandere x reader! I hope you like this! And sorry if it's not the Stephen you wanted I've been writing for the What If...? Stephen so I thought I should continue to do so. And sorry if it's not exactly what you were wanting. And finally, sorry for the wait!

Warnings: Swearing, verbal harassment, graphic depiction of a murder/corpse.

Word Count: 2667

I couldn't wait for school to end. Just ten more minutes until the bell rings and then I'll be out of here. Then I'll go home to my mom and dad, and the three of us will go to the movies and then out to dinner. I know it's a little weird to be excited about spending time with my parents, I'll admit, but I just want them to know that I do love them. Watching movies with them is how I try spending time with them. Oh, and it's Friday. Who isn't excited for Friday?

"Hey Y/N? What'd you get for number four?" I look over and see my class-buddy Whitney. She has a blonde, fluffy bob with curtain bangs and large, round glasses in front of a pair of wide, protruding blue eyes. We're kinda friends, as in we don't talk too much outside of this class, but we get a long greatly and help each other for homework. I blink owl-ishly before looking at my own paper.

"Uhh 37 but I'm pretty sure the answer is wrong. I just gave up," I hand her my paper. She immediately scribbles down the answer on her own paper. "Does it look like I give a shit? I just need an answer," she hands me back my paper. I realize I still have two problems left, so I go to solve them. A few minutes later I finish them, although more slowly than I would've liked due to Whitney needing help with a few more problems. I do really like Whitney, I just hate having my flow mind space getting interrupted. "Bye, have a good weekend!" I say to nobody in particular as the bell rings. I didn't really care to stay behind this time; I just wanted to see my parents again.

They're both pretty busy as surgeons, though dad seems to take as much time off as possible to spend time with me and, of course, mom, but sometimes mom can't make it (again, surgeon). Mom does take some time off so she can spend time with dad and me though. And dad's pretty fun to be around, so I don't mind. He buys me everything I like, let's me talk about whatever I want to, and he always tries to understand what my likes and dislikes. Mom's pretty cool too, though she's not as understanding as dad is. She disagrees with dad about buying me anything I want which causes a few disagreements between them.

I walk through the parking lot and up to my dad's Porsche. I'm surprised he didn't choose the Lamborghini. Might've been because he'll be using the Porsche later anyways. He greets me as I open the door and enter.

"Hey sweetie! How was school?" He waits for me to buckle in before driving off. I shrug. "Meh. Boring. I'm glad it's over though!" I take control of the radio and play my music. Dad playfully roles his eyes. "Melanie Martinez again? Is this your way of drowning me? Through their music?"

I laugh. "Yeah, basically. Gotta problem with that?"

"With you? Never." He ruffles my hair , to which I swat his hand away jokingly.

"Hey! I just got my hair to behave, dad!" He laughs, but retracts his hand anyway, returning it to the wheel. "And by that do you mean you finally brushed it after all the prodding from mom?" He smirks knowingly. I gawk in mock offense. "Ha-ha, for you information, sir, I do brush my hair. I just forget to do it sometimes." We pull into the parking garage below our penthouse. I gather my stuff as dad responds.

"I think you 'forget' to do it all the time." I glare at him as we walk. "Hey most of the time your hair looks like a rat's nest. I've got photos to proof it." I gently elbow him, waiting for the elevator to arrive. We keep talking until we reach the penthouse, where we then split off, with me going to my room and dad going to find mom, who was able to take today and tomorrow off. I'm glad to be alone. As much as I love dad, his questions can be quite... intense. Especially when it comes to boys. Dad's always checking to see if I have a crush or if I'm trying to see someone. I've never had a crush before, so luckily I've never had to lie to him. I don't want to imagine how he'd react if I did have a crush on a boy or if I started dating someone.

**********

Sometime later it's time to go, though it takes several attempts from mom for me to realize someone's calling my name. That might also be due to mom opening my door and calling for me once again. "Y/N! Come on, we've got to go before the previews end!" Mom taps my shoulder, making me take off my headphones. "Sorry mom! I'm going, I'm going!" I say, shutting down my laptop and putting away my headphones. She gives me a chaste forehead kiss before leaving my room. I grab my jacket and phone before following.

The three of us take the Porsche (like I predicted) to the movie theatre. We get our tickets and as we're walking we pass the concessions stand. "Hey can we get some snacks and drinks?" I ask, stopping. Mom and dad pause and look back at me before looking at the snacks. Dad hesitates, but mom answers for the both of them. "We'll miss the previews if we wait here, Y/N." She says, gesturing for me to follow her. Dad stops her. "Chris, I don't think the previews are even half-way through yet," she cocks a brow at him, "We got here early enough, love. We'll see the previews, I promise." She huffs, not wanting to wait any longer. Dad looks torn between waiting with me or waiting with mom.

I decide to intervene. "Hey, I can get the snacks on my own! I'm sixteen years old. I'll be fine,"I say, looking at them expectantly. Mom looks pacified, glad to have a solution. Dad however looks at me concerned.

"Sweetheart are you sure? We can get the snacks together." He offers.

I shake my head. "Nah. I'm sure. Go ahead and watch your "precious" previews, mom. I'll be fine." Mom gently cups dad's face, forcing him to look away from me and at her. "Stephen." She says plainly. "She'll be fine. Y/N can last a few minutes by herself. Besides we'll be nearby anyway," Dad melts into her touch, a lovesick grin spreading across his face. He nods okay at her, wrapping an arm around her waist as they walk away.

"Hey! What kind of snacks do you want?"I yell after them.

"Sour-Patch Kids and popcorn!" Mom yells back as the two of them left.

I'm assuming dad didn't answer both because he didn't want anything and because he was too distracted by mom. A little embarrassing since it's in public but whatever. I get in line, happy to finally get some snacks.

As I'm waiting two guys get in line behind me. It makes me a bit unnerved, but no big deal. They're here for snacks too. At least, that's what I think until I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around from the candy I was looking at. It's a guy with long, wavy chestnut hair, a big black flannel and a grey t shirt underneath, and black jeans. He looks around my age.

"Hey do you have any snack recommendations?" He asks, which makes me furrow my brows. Why is he asking me this? What about his friend?

"Uh, no, sorry. Not really," I say, turning to look at the candy once more. He tsks in disappointment. I look at him.

"Oh, really? 'Cause I was hoping I could get you." I'm confused, so I ask him what he means. He laughs. "You know, because you're a snack? Get it?" He and his friend high five each other at that.  I scoff, rolling my eyes before grabbing a box of candy I like. Oh, I can't forget mom's Sour Patch-Kids. I grab a box of those too.

"C'mon! That was good. Don't be such a bitch about a joke," One of them, I'm not sure who, says. I glare at them, trying to keep calm. "No, it's just annoying. And incredibly stupid." I retort, placing my items on the counter. I order a small soda for me and a large popcorn for me and my parents. I tell the cashier 'thank you' before he leaves to go get what I ordered. The idiots are still bothering me unfortunately.

"Stop ignoring me you cunt. Honestly you're lucky someone is even giving you attention at all," The dude just keeps on harassing me even as I walk away with my snacks. I keep telling them to leave me alone but he won't, and his friend just keeps edging him on. I make it to the theatre and they still keep bothering me.

I tell them to leave me alone one last time before heading inside. That does nothing to stop them. They keep throwing insults at me. I speed my way through the room, quickly finding my parents. They're at the way back of the room. They smile at me, waving me up. Dad's face quickly falls into resentment as I approach, though it's not direct towards me. His glare is focused right behind me. Mom looks confused for a moment before a look of realization comes across her face. She looks angry, but nowhere near as livid as dad is.

He stands up and walks over to meet me, his long legs making it quite fast. He guides me past him before blocking the two boys. I smirk, knowing that they're in it now. Dad wouldn't let anything happen to me.

Judging by the looks on their faces, dad must have the most intense, burning glare they've ever seen.

"And just where do you think you two are going?" He asks, though his voice indicates he's well aware of what they were doing. One of the boys gulps. "I, uh, we're h-here... here to see the, uh, movie, sir." He clearly threw in the 'sir' in a panic. I want to stay right behind my father, but I hear my mom whisper my name, and I cave in to her call. It would probably be better to get away from those idiots anyway.

"Oh really? Because it looked like you were harassing my daughter."

"No! Never! We were just looking for good seats," the other boy chimes in.

"Yeah, and I'm the king of France. Look, I'll give you the count to three before I make you regret ever even looking at my daughter. Got it?" Your dad's voice is like nothing you've ever hear from him before. It's like there is something sinister bubbling beneath the surface; his tone hardly concealing this relentlessly dark energy hiding behind it. Another look at the boys faces and it's clear they could hear whatever it is you're hearing in your dad's voice.

They nod rapidly before turning on their heel and sprinting out of the theatre. Relieved the two were gone, you sink back into your chair. Your mom rubs your shoulder comfortingly. "Did those two do anything while you were alone?" She whispers, her large green eyes showing such a soft, motherly concern. You shake your head. "They probably permanently bruised their egos is all." You joke. Mom smiles at your remark, though she's still concerned for you.

"They should be," your father sits down next to you, placing a hand on your other shoulder, "They're lucky that's all that happened to them." His eyes harden into a harsh expression. It was almost scary to see your dad like that. Why was he acting like that? It was just two boys. "Well, maybe a permanently bruised ego is what it takes to get them to stop harassing girls." You offer, hoping his countenance would lighten. It works, and when his eyes fall on you they morph into an expression of such fondness it could've given you whiplash. His icy blue eyes are more like pools of a summer pond.

"I'm just glad they didn't do anything else." He confesses, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn't have asked for better parents. The three of you turn your attention towards the movie screen. Just a few more previews and the movie would finally start.

*************

The next morning during breakfast you had a sick, icy feeling wash over you. You weren't sure why until your mom gasped at what was on the news. You turned to look at what was being broadcast only to drop your pancake on the floor. Two boys from your school were murdered last night. The same boys from the movies.

Most of their torsos were ripped apart, leaving a large, gaping hole in the middle of their bodies. Whatever organs were left were nearly unrecognizable, coated with chunks of dried blood. Their limbs were all chopped off, and it looked as though the murderer wanted to decapitate them before deciding against it, leaving a deep gash in each of their necks. It looked like their heads were attached to their bodies by a single thread. It was amazing the police was even able to recognize them, for their eyes had been gouged out, their noses broken in, and several cuts were running from their cheeks to their chins. Even patches of their hair had been ripped out of their scalp.

Time seemed to slow down. You felt nauseous, completely forgetting about the breakfast your mom had lovingly made for you. It might have been only a few seconds that you saw the mangled corpses, but that was enough. Your mom rushes to cover your eyes. She realized too late that this is something someone as young as you shouldn't see. She turns you away from the TV, holding you close as she whispers comforting words into your ear. She rubs your back in a soothing way as she does. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Your breathing quickened, your face felt hot, and you felt like throwing up. You didn't know those boys, and sure, they were dickheads, but they didn't deserve that. Nobody did.

"Heyheyheyhey sweetie what's wrong?"

Your father is suddenly by your side. Teary eyed you look up at him. You open your mouth to speak but the words couldn't come out. Your mom explains for you. You're too busy trying to calm down to see how he reacts, or how mom reacts to his reaction. Soon, however, your parents have calmed you down, your father especially doing whatever he can.

Once he sees that you've calmed down, he pulls you into a tight hug. He strokes your hair just like he did whenever you were upset. Your mom joins in on the hug, arms wrapping around you securely.

"It's okay, Y/N. Nothing's going to hurt you. I can promise you that." He says.

If you were able to see his face, you would've seen that same malicious look you saw back in the theatre. And unbeknownst to you or your mother, your father casts a look towards the TV, the news still on. A proud look etches its way on his face, like a painter admiring his masterpiece. It took a while to figure out enough about those boys, but it was worth it in the end. Dumb kids didn't even think of going home that night. It seemed as though they wanted to stay up all night. That was their ultimate downfall. Though, if they had gone home last night, it only would've delayed the inevitable.

Nobody gets to treat you like that.

Nobody.

Stephen would make sure of that. Anything for his little girl.

[sugaxjpg]

ghosts just wanna have fun; m

⤷  When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Psychic!AU & MedSchool!AU

✓ Filed under: fluff, crack (so many ghost puns), light smut (and jungkook being a nervous virgin) 

✓ Words: 20,062

Author’s Note: In which Jungkook is able to see spirits, but it’s just Taehyung and Yoongi giving him dating tips because he sucks at talking to girls. Hope you guys like it, because it has been on my WIPS for over a year and a half and I can’t believe it’s finally out there... emotional, really.

Also, huge thanks to @storytaeme​, who proof-read this mess like a champ. 

 There aren’t many embarrassing situations that can overcome the fact that Jeon Jungkook found out about his psychic abilities as he was about to lose his virginity. 

To say the least, that hadn’t been the most pleasant of scenarios to open the pathway to the afterlife. Really, there was no casual way that he could justify the scream that broke from his lips, or the dramatic spin he took as he turned around on the bed — which, ultimately, had him falling into the small space between the nightstand and the wall, with his legs up in the air, and his butthole fully exposed for both planes of existence to see. 

Still, that hadn’t been the worst part. If those two pallid silhouettes had merely disappeared once he had seen them, it wouldn’t have been as traumatic — perhaps Jungkook could have found a semi-believable excuse about what he had witnessed — but no. Not only did the ghosts remain there, with their arms crossed before their achromatic clothes and eyebrows slightly raised in expectation, they continued their conversation as if nothing had happened. 

“Oh, he was definitely going to put it in the wrong hole,” the shorter of the two murmured, clearly entertained at the idea. 

The other scoffed. “What if he did?” he threw back. “Maybe he likes that, we can’t judge.”

Truth was that, one way or another, Jungkook couldn’t even figure out what he liked — he didn’t even get the chance. He was gone from his (ex) girlfriend’s place before his brain could even attempt to construct a plausible explanation, even less to digest what had preceded that unfortunate revelation. Now, the wrong hole would forever be a source of trauma for him. 

And the problems didn’t exactly stop there. Ever since his cherry-popping session was interrupted, Jungkook hadn’t been able to move further than the first base, thinking that he would embarrass himself all over again or, worse, be frightened by a random demon passing by. Also, the constant mockery of his ghostly counterparts certainly didn’t help his concentration. 

The worst part? Helping Jungkook was kind of their whole point. And they couldn’t even do that right. 

Taehyung and Yoongi were their names — they told him right after the first night he saw them. Jungkook didn’t know what had happened in the afterlife that they had been punished with such a horrendous mission and, frankly, at that point, he was too afraid to ask. 

“But I don’t need your help,” Jungkook had said after one particularly bad date, dramatically throwing himself onto his bed. The furniture creaked under his weight and he wondered if it would snap before his mind did. “I just want you to leave me alone or, I don’t know, help me with something else — something useful.”

The two ghosts were by his desk, looking at his class notes and, at that comment, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Useful? Like what?” He asked. 

“I don’t know, solving crimes or something,” Jungkook mumbled, turning around so he would face the wall. God, he just needed two seconds alone. 

Behind him, Taehyung laughed. “You don’t even know how to open a bra, and you're out there thinking of reopening cold cases? Give me a break.” 

“Ouch,” Jungkook whispered. Maybe another time, it would’ve hurt his pride a bit more. That night, however, he was too tired to care. “For your information, I do know how to open a bra. You two just started whispering and it distracted me.” 

“We were whispering to you the instructions on how to open a bra,” Yoongi responded. “Would you need those if you knew what you were doing? No.” 

Jungkook sighed. “I just—”

“This conversation is done, we went over this already.” Yoongi interrupted. “You need us, whether you want it or not. You’re painfully bad at romance, Jungkook, even worse at initiating sex. I’ve never seen something like that before.” 

At that, Jungkook rolled on the bed and faced them. There was only one light in his bedroom that was on — the table lamp — and its clear orange shade passed through them both in an odd mixture of contours and lines. “Maybe if I could do it myself, without you two buzzing around the place, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he responded, aggressive. 

“Calm down. You were already bad enough when we arrived,” Taehyung told him, leaning over to see all the scattered pages on his desk. He frowned once he saw something he couldn’t quite understand, and quickly turned away from it. “Nothing changed much.” 

“Right!” Jungkook sat up on the bed. “Isn’t that enough of a sign for you two to stop trying to help me, then?” 

“No,” Yoongi said calmly. “That’s a sign that we have to try harder. And so do you.” 

He sneered. “I absolutely don’t.” 

“Yes, you absolutely do,” he said. “You know what? Grab your phone and get yourself a date with that girl you like from physiology class. Two weeks from now.” 

There was a second of silence as Jungkook’s mind struggled to piece the idea together. He wasn’t even sure about who Yoongi was referring to, there were a lot of girls in his class. “What? Why?” 

“Just trust us. She’s into you,” Yoongi spoke. 

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’ll work out.” 

Jungkook scoffed. “When does it, really?” 

“This time, it will,” Taehyung said. “Really. Do it.” 

“Fine.” He breathed out, reaching for his phone. “What girl?” 

Yoongi looked him up and down. “You know what girl.” 

With a deep breath, Jungkook scrolled over his contact list, struggling to find someone that he would have even the slightest chance with. Truth was, he has no fucking clue of which one of the hundred and fifty people in his class would even look in his direction, much less go on a date with him. 

“You do know… right?” Taehyung asked, clearly worried. “We can’t really give you names, but you… know, right?” 

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah! Sure I do!” Jungkook laughed nervously, clicking on a random name and opening a chat. “Here, I’m sending her a text right now. No reason to worry… no reason at all.” 

“Good,” Yoongi said, distracted. “Now, if you need us, we’ll be watching Gone Girl with your neighbors. We already missed the start of the movie, and I’m pissed off as it is.”

Taehyung nodded. “Amazing movie,” he said. Jungkook pressed send and prayed for the best. “We should have more movie nights over here.” 

 Yoongi said something in agreement and, in a second, they were already gone. Jungkook was left alone in his bedroom, with the light of his lamp casting over his features the desperation that he was feeling inside. 

“This better work,” he mumbled to himself. “You two better not be trying to embarass me.”

_____________

And then, two weeks later, Yoongi and Taehyung were laughing at him as his last failed attempt at romance got up from her chair and basically ran away from him.

Yoongi leaned back against the chair, his ankles crossed over the large table. If someone else could see him then, he surely would have received a few complaints about keeping the mall under semi-sanitary conditions. “Jungkook, I’ll tell you something,” he started, clearly amused. “You’re so bad at romance that I wish I was alive just so I could punch some reason into you.”

Taehyung, who had stayed mostly quiet during the painfully awkward interaction, walked beside Jungkook and chuckled at his distress. Still, he was focused on the other ghost, and the implication of his speech. “That amount of violence is the exact reason why you’re no longer alive, Yoongi,” he pointed out, then turned to Jungkook before he could smirk at the reprehension. “But really, that was awful. If I weren’t spiritually tied to you, I would’ve given up by now. You’re hopeless.”

“Completely out of it,” Yoongi added. “Do you even know how women work?” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, and reached for his phone: there was no way he would enter a discussion with those invisible pricks in a public situation without something to mask it. Not that it would have been the first time.  

Yoongi materialized on the seat next to Jungkook, his head leaning against his hand. The boy was already used to those sudden changes of position, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. In fact, after Taehyung had appeared next to him during a particularly bad time — in which the incognito tab had already been opened, and a bottle of lotion already waited for him — he could never erase the intense panic of such experiences. 

But of course, Yoongi knew that, and he used his discomfort for his own entertainment. “You can’t ignore us, kiddo,” he said slowly, clearly amused. “And you can’t ignore the fact that you’ll die alone, surrounded by cats, if you don’t start listening to what we have to say. We have been tied to you for a reason.”

“And the reason,” Taehyung added, “is to make you stop cockblocking yourself.” 

With a subdued groan, Jungkook pressed his phone against his ear — an old trick that allowed for him to have a conversation without being seen as clinically insane by passersby. “You two are the reason why this date went downhill,” he told them. “You told me to say all the wrong things. You two set this up knowing I’d fail.” 

“Oh, no.” Taehyung shook his head in disagreement. “The words were right. Your delivery was awful.” 

“Western-movie-awful,” Yoongi added. “And if you want to change that, you have to trust us.” 

“Trust you? Where has that taken me?” Jungkook questioned, irritated. “You’re the reason why I lost my first girlfriend and haven’t had another one ever since.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “The girl from the first night? She never talked to you again after that, did she?” He asked, but, of course, he already knew the answer. “Damn, that was cringe-worthy. Butt in the air and everything.”

“No need to remind me, I was there.” Jungkook clenched his jaw, trying to control his demeanor. It wasn’t fair that there was not much that he could do to make the two men shut up — since they were, quite literally, already dead, he didn’t have many threats to utter. “And whose fault was that?” 

“Technically, yours.” Taehyung shrugged. “We didn’t present ourselves to you, you just saw us all of a sudden. We were just as surprised.”

“Besides, you were the one that had the B.F.,” Yoongi added. 

Jungkook raised one eyebrow. “B.F.?”

“Bitch fit,” Taehyung elucidated. “He watched White Chicks with your neighbors last night, don’t worry about it.” 

Jungkook groaned, pressing his hand against his face. Of course — the cherry on top would be outdated pop references, as expected. Yoongi had always been quite fond of the classic ‘with great power comes great responsibility’, and Jungkook thought that the overuse of that quote would be the ultmost reason for his insanity. Nevertheless, he came to understand that it was nothing compared to movies like White Chicks or even Legally Blonde. He would rather hear Uncle Ben’s famous line a billion times over before Yoongi accused him of having a B.F. once more. 

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the environment around him. The murmurs and disembodied conversations around the mall had morphed into the sound of irritating insects, and he felt as if the earth could just open up and eat him alive. He probably committed a terrible crime in a past life to be stuck with Tweedledee and Tweedledum like that. 

“Anyways,” Jungkook stressed, “it didn’t seem like the two of you were surprised that I could see you. You just kept… talking about me. And my ass.”

Taehyung chuckled. “You were the one with the ass up in the air.” He vanished, then materialized in the seat in front of Jungkook. “What were we supposed to do? Ignore it?” 

“It was an easy target,” Yoongi spoke, then seemed to realize the words that had left his mouth. “Wait, I didn’t mean the double interpretation.” 

“Why can’t the two of you just fucking help me for once?” Jungkook asked aggressively. In a nearby table, one old man raised his eyes from his vegan burger and stared the boy up and down in disapproval. Jungkook lowered his voice and switched his phone to the other ear. “This is unbearable. You two are only making it worse.” 

With a gesture that Jungkook knew all too well, Taehyung used his thumb to point over his shoulder, towards the path that his failed date had followed. “That one wasn’t good enough for you,” he said nonchalantly. “We can tell. We know stuff.” 

“Then why did you set this up in the first place?” He asked, exasperated. 

“As DJ Khaled says, you played yourself,” Yoongi cited. One more reference and Jungkook would be the one joining the world of the dead. “It’s not our fault that you get nervous and can’t deliver the lines right. When have the two of us ever failed?”

“When you died,” he spoke back. “Or did you forget the stupid mistake you made?”

Yoongi hesitated. As much as he tried to play it cool, he wasn’t the smartest one around. In fact, his tragically premature death was all the evidence Jungkook needed to make his point clear. 

During his living days, Yoongi was pretty invested in rock climbing. On a beautiful summer afternoon, just as the sun was setting over the green-bathed hills, one of his friends dared him to bungee jump from the same cliff they had just climbed, and were standing on. Of course, the man agreed promptly, saying that he wouldn’t back out from such a mundane task; stating repeatedly that the fall wouldn’t be so high up anyway. But that wasn’t the turning point: Min Yoongi, in all his adventurousness, quickly decided that his local shop was too expensive and that he would create his own bungee jump cord instead. 

According to him, making the cord proved itself to be quite an easy task. He had gotten some help from his local adrenaline addicts and the final product was a very good copy of the factory-made ones. He measured the cliff twice just to be certain, compared it to the rope, and made sure to test the sustentation and elasticity as many times as he could. 

Still, Yoongi had overlooked an imperative detail: he shouldn’t use a cord that was the same height as the cliff he was jumping from. 

Needless to say, he only realized his mistake once he was already dead. 

Yoongi scoffed at the memory, ignoring his hurt pride. He swore he could still feel his back hurting when he thought about that. “That isn’t the point,” he said. He often did that: changed the subject once he realized he couldn’t leave with the upper hand. “The point is that you keep delivering lines like you’re a bad boy in a South American novela, then expect us to perform a miracle on you.” 

Jungkook frowned, lowering his head. “That’s actually so wrong.” 

But the problem was: Yoongi was right, and Jungkook knew it. In fact, that had been the exact reason why his date had left him that night — the boy had misunderstood Taehyung’s advice to play off as a mysterious man, and instead projected his image somewhere between a psychopath and a person that had only K-dramas as a basis of how human interactions were supposed to work. Jungkook missed his attempts at romance the entire time, but the breaking point was when Yoongi told him to act as a bad influence because, according to him, girls dig a good bad boy. 

Once again, Yoongi wasn’t the brightest mind when it came to risk-taking. That was why he was more dead than Jungkook’s bedroom. 

Jungkook, however, did not realize his own errors until it was too late. He had chuckled at his date’s embarrassment, using his opening to delicately place her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to tell you something,” he started, voice swift and placid as a river. With his eyebrows raised and his lips vaguely forming a pout, he looked like an off-brand version of Handsome Squidward. “I’m not really a good influence, and surely not the kind of guy you’d like to get with. So why don’t you do me a favor and follow the simple orders I give you, uh?”

Her eyes had widened in a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and fear. From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook saw her reaching for her purse over the table. “No, thank you,” she was quick to say. “I don’t think this will work, sorry. I’ll see you around college.” 

And that’s how they ended at that point. The point they always seemed to end up in. 

“I think I need a break from all of this,” Jungkook said, closing his eyes for a moment of peace. “I have a huge test next week and I couldn’t even study for it because of all the preparation for this stupid date. Can you two just take a step back? Just for a little while. Romance can’t be all that I think about.”

As he opened his eyes, he saw Taehyung staring at him. He couldn’t really read his expression. 

And, without an answer, the two of them vanished. 

_________________

If someone asked Jungkook why the hell he thought going to medical school was a good idea, he’d simply say that, at the time, it made sense. After all, he had thought, he’d be some sort of super-doctor, since he had an exclusive VIP pass to the afterlife — just imagine how many people he would be able to help just by asking a friendly ghost what was wrong with a patient. It would be a game-changer. He could even find the cure of cancer if he tried hard enough. 

But of course, he quickly realized that he should’ve thought further about his decision. Maybe being a detective would have made much more sense — it would have been a lot cheaper, that’s for sure, and he wouldn’t have to sit through almost twelve hours of classes every single day for a diploma that seemed to be too far away for him to care. 

That particular class, however, wasn’t the worst one out there. 

It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant Pathology. Jungkook loved that class because the professor hated teaching it, so the students had to sit in silence for about three hours trying to read the textbook by themselves. The professor said he would be there to answer any questions, but he was mostly scrolling through his phone and interrupting students every time they tried to ask him something — “That’s in the textbook, just keep reading.”  

Most of his classmates absolutely despised that subject, but Jungkook thought it was wonderful: he often learned better by himself anyways, and the lack of conversation during class brought him some sense of peace. Besides, Yoongi and Taehyung hated sitting in that quiet room for too long, so they mostly left after ten or twenty minutes of trying — and failing — to strike up a conversation with Jungkook. It was the perfect day.

Well, most days it was. 

Just as he was about to move forward to the next topic — Adrenal Insufficiency and Addison’s Disease — , the boy felt something poking his bicep and he was quick to turn to his side. Instantly, he recognized your expectant gaze and something fluttered inside his stomach. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning over your desk, “is tomorrow afternoon still up? I really need help in cardiac physiology. I kind of suck.”

He hummed in agreement, fighting against the nervousness that crept up on him. Jungkook’s palms started to sweat just by looking at you, he really was one step away from reverting back to his pre-teen days. “For sure. I’ll be at yours at five,” he managed to get out. 

“Thank you so much,” you said, then moved back against your seat. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. If it had been anyone else, Jungkook would’ve had a stroke by then — after all, he wasn’t always invited to a girl’s place so easily. That’s someone that I have absolutely no chance with, he thought. So friendzoning himself made everything much easier. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet up at the library?” 

“I can’t really concentrate there,” you answered. “But if you prefer, we could go.” 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Your place is fine.” 

You smiled again, and Jungkook thought that maybe being shot wouldn’t hurt so much. “Thanks. See you at five.” 

Jungkook nodded and turned around, facing his laptop. Just as he was about to restart typing his notes, he saw a known reflection at the corner of his computer. Oh, God, have mercy.

Yoongi’s reflection smirked from the back row. “Oh, man, she’s so into you.”

 Jungkook shook his head in denial, eyes still glued to the PDF file in front of him. If anything, his classmates would have just guessed he was finding that subject more difficult than usual and, quite frankly, no one could judge him. 

“No?” Yoongi raised one eyebrow, reappearing by his side with his hand supporting his cheek. Jungkook didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was just looooving the discomfort that grew inside his limbs. “I know those things, kiddo. It’s my job.”

From the front seat, Taehyung hummed in agreement. He had his arm placed over the chair, and seemed to find that entire situation a bit boring — maybe because he had seen it countless times before. “She definitely wants to get some of that,” he said. “We are proud of you, son.” 

With a subdued sigh, Jungkook scribbled some aggressive words at the corner of his notebook, and showed it to the man by his side. “Look at this, Taehyung, he’s trying to convince us that they’re just friends,” Yoongi mocked, crossing his arms. “That’s cute. Just because you’re that oblivious, it doesn’t mean that we are.”

“Jungkook, we’ve been watching the two of you talk the entire semester,” Taehyung added. “Besides, Yoongi made me follow her around once. She’s definitely into you. In unholy ways.”

Yoongi nodded once again. “She wants to be your boo.”

“Was that a fucking ghost pun?” Taehyung’s nose cringed up in disgust, and Jungkook had to fight back the reflex of laughing at his reaction. “Awful.”

“At least I’m not the one who ghostwrote Jungkook’s ethics essay.” Yoongi threw back. “Yeah, and that was another pun. You’ve got no spirit.” 

“You know what? Now I know why Jungkook can’t stand us anymore.” Taehyung smirked and, then and there, Jungkook knew exactly what was coming. “He can see right through us.”

The other ghost nodded. “Yeah, we’ve reached a dead end.” 

Jungkook groaned in exasperation, hiding his face behind his hands. “This is torture.”

Next to him, you chuckled. “Come on, pathology isn’t even that bad. You’re good at this.” 

“I know, I’m just tired.” He turned around to look at you, uttering the same excuse he had been using this entire semester. Not that it was an uncommon one, especially in the fifth circle of hell that was medical school. “I think I need to splash some cold water on my face. Wake myself up.”

You hesitated, staring at him as he stood up.  Jungkook looked strangely pale, like he was about to throw up all over the classroom. “Is everything okay?”

Fantastic! My bachelor ghosts are just making me have a nervous breakdown. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He said, almost stumbling over your chair. Some of your pens fell down, but Jungkook couldn’t even bring himself to get them. He’d probably just knock everything else over in the process, and he wasn’t even sure that he could stand back up after. “Shit— Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Behind him, Yoongi chuckled. “Spook-tacular skills, as always.”

_____________

The sound of running water was all that entered Jungkook’s mind for a moment, his face feeling the coldness of the liquid as he splashed himself once, twice, trying to clear his thoughts. In the end, it was mostly in vain: his class was ruined, his notes were left unfinished, and he couldn’t get a second of tranquility anymore — not even in Pathology. If he weren’t canonized after his death, he would file a complaint for sure. 

Abruptly, he closed off the faucet and the water stopped running. There was a heavenly instant of quietness, in which Jungkook followed the crystalline droplets falling from his hair to the sink, before Yoongi’s voice echoed behind him. “How you doin’, champ?” 

Jungkook sighed and raised his head, looking at his ghost counterpart through the dirty mirror. “Is the bathroom empty?” he asked calmly. 

“Hm? Yeah,” Yoongi said. “The ghost is clear.”

Just like that, his serenity was gone. “Yoongi, can you fucking stop? Your puns stopped being funny after the third attempt,” Jungkook asked, exasperated. He pulled some paper towels, and got even angrier at the way they fell apart in his hands. Good to know his college money was being used wisely. “Jesus. Where is Taehyung?”

“You know he hates toilet paper,” Yoongi told him. “Reminds him of his death.”

Jungkook considered the compelling idea of banging his head against the bathroom wall until he, himself, was part of the world of the dead. As he recalled very well, Taehyung had been a victim of Final-Destination-levels of misfortune: just because he had forgotten to take toilet paper to his camping trip, the boy had been forced to use nearby leaves. Those, as he would soon come to understand, caused an awful allergy on his lower lands, and the punctual bleeding was a sufficient opening for opportunistic diseases. The culprit? Some super strange bacteria that floated around the river. He was dead less than twenty hours after he came back home from septic shock.  

Taehyung had endured, quite frankly, one shitty death. And, yes, Yoongi had made that joke a few too many times before. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook realized. “What did I tell you two about chit-chatting with me in large public places? Especially my classes? I have to pay attention. And I have a test in two days, I need to be all here, and not thinking about other people.” 

Yoongi giggled — almost childishly so — at the other’s anguished attitude. His teeth, a pallid shade of white, could barely be seen against the olive-green tiles that covered the bathroom walls. “You weren’t paying attention to the processes of intestinal inflammation, that’s for sure,” he teased, forcing himself to hold back his jokes a bit. 

“I wasn’t even studying that chapter,” Jungkook mumbled. 

Even Yoongi, who had a dense personality for such a diaphanous soul, could tell that the student was not in the mood for mockery. “Man, why are you so stuck-up? Taehyung and I are ghosts, but you’re the one with the dead sense of humor.”

Jungkook realized he needed a moment to think before he started yelling at nothing in a public bathroom. He really hoped the other stalls were empty, but he couldn’t be bothered to check. 

“This isn’t about the puns. You two just don’t respect my privacy,” Jungkook said. This time, he was able to pull some good paper towels and proceeded to dry his face. “This has been going on for too long. Why don’t you two just vanish for some time?”

“Wish I could, kiddo, but I’ve got hours to clock,” Yoongi finally admitted. From the mirror, he could see the frown of confusion that was cast over Jungkook’s features. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m only following rules. Talk to the big guy upstairs if you want to complain.”

He threw the paper on the trash and shook his head in confusion. “I just don’t see the point of any of this.” 

“You don’t have to.” Yoongi took a step closer. He often looked so unbothered — the two of them, actually — that Jungkook caught himself wondering which certainties they held, notions that would most likely be given after death. “Just do what we tell you to do.”

“That has only embarrassed me so far,” he said, turning around. “I don’t think I have it in me to trust in you two one more time. It has gotten me nowhere. Or, rather, nowhere good.”  

Yoongi sighed. “Alright, let’s do it like this, then: You go and help Y/N with her cardio whatever stuff, and Taehyung and I just watch. We promise to shut up, unless you’re doing something seriously embarrassing. Other than that, absolute silence.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “You promise you two won’t tell me what to say?”

“Promise.” Yoongi nodded. He looked very sincere. “We won’t talk to you.” 

“I can live with that, yeah,” Jungkook agreed, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Sounds good.”

“Perfect.” He smiled. “Trust me, Jungkook. I only made one mistake in my life.”

Jungkook smirked. “And it killed you.”

“Not the point.” He raised one finger, clearly annoyed, then pointed it at Jungkook. “You’ll do great. It’s not like you’re gonna tell her about us or something.” 

He laughed. “Yeah, that’d be awful.” 

________________

But that was, ultimately, what he did.

To be fair, it was never Jungkook’s intention. He was completely sure that it would ruin not only his friendship with you, as it would also ruin his reputation, both as a student and as a future physician. Come on, how would he even explain that? How could he tell anyone that he not only saw two obnoxious ghosts, but that they were there to give him romantic (and sometimes sexual) advice? That’s insanity. 

Spoiler: he didn’t explain it very well. 

In the cosmic perspective, however, it was kind of Yoongi’s fault too. He had the problem of giving away too much sometimes, especially when he was alone and free from Taehyung’s scrutiny. And it was that extra bit of information that catalyzed the explosion that would become Jungkook’s confession. 

For some reason or another, Taehyung hadn’t joined the two of them that day, as Jungkook crossed the campus towards your place. For the first time in a long time, their conversation — which was, again, masked by Jungkook pretending to be on the phone — was actually quite pleasant. Yoongi had told him a bit more about his life back in the day and explained that he was studying to become a lawyer when he died. 

“I was thinking of dropping out anyways,” he said. “I just picked a random thing to study because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And, well, I kind of did drop off. Just not from the course.” 

Jungkook could not help but laugh at the absurdness of it all. Sad coincidences aside, it was unusual for Yoongi to make jokes about his death. Taehyung was much more open about it, but Yoongi seemed to be very bitter because of the way and the time he passed. But of course, who was Jungkook to judge? 

“You know,” Yoongi started after a moment of quietude. “Taehyung and I were pretty surprised that day at the mall.”

Jungkook frowned. “Hm? Why is that?” 

The other man chuckled. “Honestly? Because you’re dumber than we thought.”

Seems like pleasant times didn’t last much between the two of them. “We’ve established that I can’t talk to girls, Yoongi, I know.” Jungkook really wanted to change the subject. 

“No, not that,” he denied. “Let’s go back a little. Remember what we told you in your bedroom that night? To get the physiology girl.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi laughed, amazed that Jungkook still didn’t get it. “You called the wrong one, idiot,” he explained. 

“What?” Jungkook paused in his tracks and, in a mindless reflex, forgot he was supposed to be talking on the phone, and looked directly at Yoongi, lowering the device away from his ear. “There is a right one?” 

“Hey, pay attention to your surroundings.” Yoongi pointed at a couple that also stopped, confused at the man’s actions. Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure after that minor instant of public humiliation, and placed the phone back against his ear. “Let’s keep walking.”

With his heart beating insanely fast against his chest, Jungkook did as he was told. His mind was flooded with fragmented thoughts, working around words that seemed so simple, yet held so much.

“Yes, there is a right one — and you’re going towards her right now.” Yoongi responded, placing his ghostly hands inside his ghostly pockets. Jungkook never noticed that he still used the clothes that he had on when he died, but Yoongi wouldn’t be the first one to mention. “So don’t make a fool out of yourself. Not this time.” 

Jungkook swallowed dry, feeling as panic started to climb up his lower limbs, weighing down on his muscles. His throat was dry as a desert and forming sentences proved to be a far more difficult task than he had anticipated. The air around campus had suddenly become hot for an autumn day, unable to enter his lungs with ease. He really was two steps away from a full-blown anxiety attack. 

Yoongi frowned. “You good?” 

Jungkook licked his lips, only half aware of his actions. “Y-Yeah,” he struggled to get out. “Just kind of a bomb that you just dropped on me, that’s all.” 

Yoongi nodded, uninterested. “Yeah. Get over it. It’s not a huge deal.” 

Only, it was. For Jungkook, at least. What if you two were… you know? Meant to be? Like the soulmates kind of thing; star-crossed lovers. Like in the “we got married after two months of dating and we are still together after sixty years” kind of insane love? That was a lot to process, a lot to think about, especially when he was having like three different crises at once. It was a recipe for a disaster. 

Jungkook really was dumb when it came to anything besides his textbooks, but not for jumping into those conclusions. Frankly, most people would’ve been a bit overwhelmed by that. 

No, his problem would reside on his next thought: If you two were meant to be, you would understand if, for some reason, he had to tell you about his ghosts, right? 

Right?

_______________

To be fair with Yoongi, he did keep his promise. The two didn’t interrupt your conversation once, even if sometimes the moment begged for it, and Jungkook was two words away from ruining everything. Strangely enough, things seemed to work themselves out — the horrible jokes that Jungkook uttered seemed to suit your sense of humor; the shy and nervous demeanor that plagued his dates slowly melted away. It was good — in fact, it was the best talk he’s had with someone in a long, long time. 

The issue was that, as much as the two of them didn’t talk directly to Jungkook, they still talked. 

“What was that thing that she said, you know, to her friends?” Yoongi mumbled, his words coming out as a vague connection of syllables being formed at the corner of his mouth. He had his arms crossed, and his legs pushed up on the couch. “You told me that.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung took a moment to think. He had one of his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his white pants, and the other on the back of the couch. The two of them watched the conversation that unfolded above your living room table, the two of you trying to make sense of a subject that seemed to change every five minutes. “It was like ‘homeboy can like, get it’... or something.” 

Yoongi nodded, satisfied. “Nice.” 

Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to ignore that comment. It wasn’t news that you were interested in him — that had been the only thing Yoongi and Taehyung had told him for the past few hours, but it was very, very awkward to know those specific details. He was sure he wouldn’t like you to know the private conversations that he had with his friends, even less about the things he thought about when he was alone. There was something extremely violating about that, but, no matter how hard he tried to convince them, the two ghosts didn’t seem to care enough to stop. 

The giggle that came from across the table ruptured his thoughts. “Why are you blushing?” You asked.

“I’m… uh…” he struggled, suddenly feeling the heat that emanated from his cheeks. Wonderful. Even when he was just thinking about something, he still managed to make a fool of himself. “Just… thinking about some embarrassing things I did in third grade. The usual.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been there.” You smiled, reaching for the textbook across the table, and flipping through the pages. “I ruined this entire science project once. It was something about the pollination of flowers, but I missed that class. Ended up coming back to a lot of roses around the classroom, and decided to take a few of them home to my mom.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yep,” you nodded, looking back at him. Jungkook thought that he had lost himself in your eyes for a moment, a depth so engulfing that he couldn’t find the right words once he stared at it. He had never noticed how beautiful you were — or, rather, he had, but he had never stopped to think about it — and, now, it seemed as if that was the only thing that he could focus on. “Everyone in class was super pissed, the teacher even tried to suspend me.”

He shook his head, trying to imagine a mini-you justifying your flower thievery in front of the principal. “That’s insane, actually.”

“Kind of.” You shrugged, looking back at the book. You weren’t sure what you were searching for anymore, so you decided to close it. You two had been studying for almost four hours straight, you didn’t think that your brain could handle any more of that. “They didn’t really believe me when I told them it was a mistake. Guess no one even noticed my absence the day before, which is… somehow… even worse, now that I think about it.” 

A giggle reverberated in your throat as you dove into those forgotten memories, and Jungkook followed you. 

“Don’t laugh at child me, that’s so cruel.” You smiled. 

“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I just thought you were cute. Still are, you never really stopped being cute, I mean. You’re actually really pretty now, like a woman—” 

“I got it.” You placed your hands over his, and the shock of your skin against his seemed to spread throughout his entire body. He didn’t know if that was a soulmate thing of if he was just really horny. Probably a bit of both. “Don’t worry about it. You’re pretty cute too. Like a man.”  

“Thanks.” Jungkook itched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words to build his sentence. Panic began bubbling at the bottom of his stomach, sinking its teeth into his flesh as his words left his throat. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” 

It was the right time now: the studying was over, the conversation was flowing, you had told him that you thought he was cute — like a man. Now, he just needed to ask you out. Just that. That’s it. Three words. He had practiced: Wanna go out? That’s it. So casual. So playboy-esque. He could do it. No pressure. If you were the one, he didn’t have much to get wrong. 

But, oh my god, what if he got everything wrong? I mean, how many stories are out there of couples who were destined for each other, but something happened and it pulled them apart forever? The wrong time, the wrong place — the wrong words. Jungkook wasn’t psychologically prepared to ruin something so huge with a moment so small. He needed to calm down and focus. Just get the words out. Everything would sort itself out after that. He had faith. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Jungkook cleared his throat, his eyes still glued to the touch of your hand against his. Outside, birds were chirping, unaware of the absolute shitstorm that was about to ensue. “So…” he started, “I was thinking that maybe I could— I mean, you — I mean we could...”

You tilted your head to the side, confused. “Sorry, what was that?” 

He blinked once, twice, fighting against the wave of sheer terror that had taken over his brain, whitening out his thoughts. He had the sentence ready, but he had forgotten how to form it. “I’m just trying… I’m just trying here to just…” He swallowed dryly. “I was just wondering if you would like to… I mean, if it’s not a problem—”

From the other side of the room, Yoongi groaned. “Just do it! You’re making eternity so much longer.”

And that’s when it happened. 

Jungkook turned around and yelled: “You told me you wouldn’t talk, you asshole!”

The entire room froze. A horrible moment of bewildered reticence followed as  the realization crashed upon him like a gigantic wave. He couldn’t have just yelled at nothing in front of you, like an absolute madman, could he? 

Your eyes widened and you pulled your hand away from his. The lack of warmth was like a dagger being thrown directly into his heart. “Excuse me?”

Yep. He totally did that. 

“Not you!” He was quick to turn around — maybe a bit too quick, too intensely. Even with nervousness clouding his vision, Jungkook could still see the shadow of fear and confusion mingling amongst your features. He had ruined everything, and that was all that he could think about. “I’m just... personalizing my anxiety...”

“Are you... alright?” You spoke slowly, measuring his actions. Jungkook had changed from cute-nervous to absolutely-unhinged-nervous; eyes widened and jaw clenched; hands gripping the wooden chair like his life depended on it. Maybe that study session was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just googled an online class, like your best friend told you to. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Taehyung chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.” 

And, if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, Jungkook started to convince himself that perhaps it would be a good idea to come clean with you about his psychic abilities — maybe that was actually the only way that he could get out of that mess. If you were his soulmate, you’d understand. It’d all be okay. Yeah, maybe you’d be seriously creeped out for like the first twenty minutes, just like he had been, but eventually you’d understand what had happened. You two would laugh about it later, maybe when you were sixty, on your rocking chairs somewhere, staring lovingly at a cornfield. 

Was he losing it? Probably. But he didn’t have the right amount of mental clarity to fully think about the consequences of his actions in that moment. 

“I… did,” Jungkook spoke sluggishly, barely comprehending the trail of words that dripped from his tongue. His voice was much calmer, but he could still feel like his entire body was engulfed by flames. “I did... see a ghost. Two actually.” 

You frowned. This afternoon couldn’t possibly get any worse. “What are you talking about?” 

“Jungkook, don’t you dare,” Yoongi warned, but his voice seemed to come from miles away. 

Slowly, as if he wasn’t really aware of his own body moving, Jungkook adjusted his position on the chair, looking down at the sea of handwritten notes in front of him. He wished that human interaction was as easy as the types of pulmonary volumes, or perhaps the changes of oxygen inside the hemoglobin. That he knew. That he could deal with.

“Ok so, have you ever watched The Emperor’s New Groove?”

You blinked twice, puzzled. “What?”

“The Disney movie,” he clarified, looking up at you. 

You shook your head, measuring how long it would take for you to bolt out of the door and run away from your own apartment. Maybe you could get out and then call someone for help. You wished you had already taken Psychiatry. “I know what that is, Jungkook, but I just don’t understand where you’re getting at.”

“Maybe it’s in the TV series that came after the movie, I don’t know, but Kronk has these two little beings on his shoulders, a devil and an angel.” He cleared his throat, and looked back at the sheets of paper. It was so hard to stare at you now, when just seconds before, it had been so easy. “I kinda have the same thing, only, they’re dead people. You know, ghosts. And they’re not on my shoulders — that’d be pretty awful, actually.” 

Taehyung mumbled from across the room, “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jungkook.” 

“You’re making no sense right now,” you said, worried about the effect that your words could have on him. “I think… I think it would be better if you left.” 

“I can see dead people, okay?” Jungkook interrupted, exasperated. You had to understand. You were the right girl from physiology class, you had to understand. 

“Okay, Sixth Sense.” You laughed nervously. Bad time for a joke, you thought, but the boy barely seemed to process it. “Listen, I can tell you’re not doing very well right now, so you should probably leave, maybe clear your head a bit. You already helped me a lot—”

“No, I don’t need that. My head is clear—”

“You know, there is a very good mental health clinic in campus, I’ve gone there already, and I think—” 

“No! I don’t need mental health, it’s true!” Jungkook stood up, walking towards the couch, where the two dead men sat. There was an unspoken contest in the room to see who could be more flabbergasted at the boy’s actions, and you and Yoongi were in a close tie. “I can prove it.” 

You almost choked on air. “You what?” 

Jungkook pointed at nothing. “They’re here right now, I can prove it to you.”

Discombobulated, you shook your head one more time. Maybe if you did that enough, your chaotic thoughts would just fall out of your ears, and everything would be much clearer. Maybe that was a prank, maybe that was a full-blown psychotic breakdown. You just didn’t really know what to do from there. “Jungkook, I don’t think—” 

“Come on, just show yourself to her!” He yelled into the air, more specifically at your white couch. You just wanted to study cardiology, how did it end up like this? “Give me a sign, I don’t know.”

Yoongi chuckled, completely amazed by the way Jungkook continuously broke the Dumb Records that he had previously set himself. No bonus in heaven would be worth dealing with Mr. Smooth Brain over there. He should’ve gone for the orphans instead. “I cannot believe you right now.” He stood up from the couch and sighed, utterly defeated. Maybe he could just get it over with, and then The Big Man Upstairs would show him a bit of mercy. “But I guess now there isn’t much to lose. I’m only doing this because at least it would make this situation a bit better.” 

“How?” Taehyung asked. 

“There’s a slight improvement between psychotic crisis and psychic abilities,” Yoongi responded. He walked towards the window, rolled his eyes at the pathetic presentation of supernatural phenomena, and pulled on the white curtains of your living room. “Here. Boo! Paranormal activity.” 

“Did you see that?” Jungkook asked, excited. 

However, instead of meeting a surprised gaze, he only saw panic and preoccupation swimming inside your eyes. “The curtain moving? Yeah. That was the wind, Jungkook.” You stood up from the chair, measuring your chances at escaping. He was getting more and more erratic, and you didn’t know where the situation could escalate to next. “You’re seriously freaking me out right now. You’re being really aggressive about this.” 

“Yoongi, you’re worse than the spirits in Ghost Hunters,” Taehyung groaned, reappearing next to your living room table. “You have to be bold, that’s what I always say. Make a statement.”

Taehyung’s statement, of course, had been the biggest slap against a lamp that Jungkook had ever witnessed in his life. The ghosts had once told him that it took them a huge amount of concentrated energy to do something as little as move a napkin, so there was no way that Taehyung wouldn’t be exhausted after making that heavy piece of furniture fly against the wall, shattering into a million little pieces with a loud noise. 

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asked. “That was so dangerous! She could’ve gotten hurt.”

He shrugged. “You asked.” 

“What the fuck was that?” You yelled, taking your hands to your face. Was that shared hysteria? What did you just see? Maybe you were the one who needed fresh air and a shrink visit. “You’re pranking me, right? You have like a nylon string wrapped around your hands or something.”

Jungkook moved his head in denial, raising his hands up in a sigh of defeat. “I swear to God, it’s true.” 

“I don’t… I don’t believe you,” you said, clearly terrified. Not at the idea of ghosts, Jungkook realized, but of him. That date surely couldn’t have gone any better. 

Yoongi sighed and materialized behind Jungkook. Lost causes, Yoongi was surrounded by lost causes. “If you really want her to believe you, tell her we can say some stuff about her, but it’ll probably freak her out.”

“They are saying that they can convince you by saying some stuff about you.” Jungkook swallowed dry. Something inside him was screaming for him to just shut the fuck up and leave your building. If there was something he learned by being with the two undead pricks, is that they could always make a situation worse. 

But desperate times require desperate measures. 

You adjusted your posture. Trepidation was still very present in your face, but there was also a small spark of interest swimming somewhere inside your eyes. “I seriously doubt that.” 

“I can show you,” he said. “Just… don’t freak out.”

“Fine.” You licked your lips in anticipation. “The name of my first pet.”

“Is this a password verification?” Yoongi groaned. He just wanted to watch Twitches later that day, but Jungkook just had to start a seance in someone else’s room. Again: the orphans would never. “Fine. It was Mr. Green, a tortoise she killed by leaving to dry in the asphalt.” 

“It was a tortoise, Mr. Green. You left it on the asphalt and it died,” Jugkook repeated without hesitation. 

You blinked twice, taking in the answer. “This is so fucking weird. How did you know that?”

“Yoongi told me.” Jungkook pointed over his shoulder, where Yoongi stared you down. Just by looking in that direction, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You were losing it. “He’s, you know, one of the ghosts.” 

“I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.” You placed one hand against the chair, leaning against it. There was no use to keep that conversation going, and you both knew it — and yet, just like a politician lying, it just didn’t stop. “But you could’ve asked anyone that.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to become completely lost. “Why would I ask such a specific question? I don’t even know your friends.” 

Behind him, he heard another loud groan. “I’m so done with this.” Yoongi placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let me talk, Jungkook.” 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He asked.

Yoongi snorted. “We are all out of good ideas. But I think this is the best chance you’ve got.”

“Who are you talking to?” You almost yelled. 

Jungkook looked back at you and, for some reason, the preoccupation in his eyes scared you even further. “Okay, this is going to be really weird, alright? But it’s not gonna be me talking.”

“What?” 

“It’s like… a kind of possession,” he explained, gesticulating a bit more than socially acceptable. “It’s like… uh… One of them is going to use my mouth for a bit. Talk through me.” 

You laughed, and there was a high-pitched sort of timbre to it. That might as well happen. “Sure, of course. What else? Exorcism live?” You asked. 

“Just give me the permission,” Yoongi commanded. 

Jungkook took in a deep breath, and clenched his hands into fists. He hated that part. “Fine,” he consented. 

Gradually, the muscles around his mouth and throat grew numb, as if Jungkook had entered a dream, and his body was responding in autopilot. There was an awful pressure on his shoulders and a ringing in his ears as Yoongi accommodated himself around his body, reaching for control. That was the closest he would ever feel to being a ventriloquist’s puppet, and it was as bad as it could be. 

Yoongi spoke through him with ease: “You told your friends last week that you didn’t care if Jungkook was a shy virgin who played minecraft because he was exactly your type. You also said that your average score in physiology is ninety-seven percent and you didn’t need any help. You just needed an excuse to stay with him. Happy?” 

Jungkook inhaled sharply as the pressure on his body subsided, the numb sensation around his neck growing thinner by the second. “So violating,” he complained. 

“How did you know that?” Your voice shook him back to reality. Both of you were reaching new levels of terror every minute. “Are you stalking me?”

That back and forth was starting to get exhausting. “That wasn’t me. That was Yoongi,” he tried once again. He was starting to think that the whole thing had been a bad idea. 

“Well, fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat. 

Yoongi scoffed. “Fuck you too, princess. Maybe you really don’t deserve this man.”

“I’m not saying that,” Jungkook whispered to him, then turned back to look at you. He wanted to hug you and magically erase your memories for that afternoon, but, in reality, he couldn’t even move his legs without feeling like he could fall face-down on the floor. He really, really, really hated possession. “I’m just… I’m sorry about that.” 

“About what, Danny Phantom?” You asked, throwing your hands up in an exasperated gesture. And there it was: from panic to complete fury. That was all that you two needed at that moment. “About making me scared shitless, or about exposing me like this?” 

He suspired. “Do you at least believe in me now?” 

“Does it look like I believe in you, Jungkook?” You practically screamed. Truth was: neither of you knew that for sure. “I’m a woman of science, you can’t expect me to believe that—”

Taehyung groaned, walking closer to Jungkook. It must’ve been a world record how quickly everyone in that room got angry. “Let me talk,” he requested. 

Jungkook sighed, defeated. How much worse could it possibly get? “Go ahead,” he said.

There it was again: the feeling of being under anesthesia, the weight of an entire other being pressed down against his shoulders. Good times. “Yesterday,” he started, “you masturbated to the thought of Jungkook, but you forgot to recharge your vibrator so you had to use your fingers and you complained the entire time. Explain that, science woman.”

Another deep gasp, and Jungkook was folding over, finding balance on his knees. He really felt like he couldn’t even think straight anymore, his mind covered by a thick fog. 

You didn’t seem to be in a much different situation either. “I’m… gonna pass out.” 

“That was so unnecessary, Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered. His mouth was terribly dry, and his hands were shaking. “You guys really don’t know your limits.” 

“Taehyung? Who the fuck is that?” You screamed. 

Taehyung crossed his arms. “Hey, at least she believes you now.”

“He’s the other ghost. The one with no sense of boundaries.” Jungkook stared at Taehyung, clearly pissed off. Maybe his voice would’ve come out a bit more forceful if he didn’t get thrown around by sadistic spirits. “I’m sorry about that.” 

You shook your head, dumbfounded. “I need you to leave now. And take your ghosts with you.” You leaned over the table, and grabbed his notes, shoving them into a messy pile. Not that you were super worried about the integrity of the paper at a time like that. “This has really crossed like... every line.” 

Jungkook licked his lips, trying to find the right words to say. Someway, he managed to get his legs firm enough so he could start walking in your direction. “Please, I didn’t mean to—” 

You shoved the pile of notes into his backpack, and then the backpack into his hands. Before he could react, you grabbed him by the arm, guiding him towards the exit. “Thanks for helping me, Jungkook.” The door opened with a forceful pull, and you shoved him into the hall. “Never speak to me again. Bye.” 

The bang of the door slamming shut was horribly loud, reverberating inside Jungkook’s chest for a moment longer. Now that the possession daze was starting to move away from his body, the boy could feel the traces of panic crawling inside him. 

Jungkook dropped his backpack to the ground, and started knocking on your door. “Y/N, please!” He called. “I’m so sorry about everything. You have to believe me!” 

Your yell came muffled from the other side of the door. “Go away!” you screamed. “Or I’m calling the cops!”

Defeated, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead against the wood. Now that the situation had already climaxed, the absurdity of it all was starting to become much more palpable. 

How could Jungkook be so stupid? How could he think that you would act normally as you were exposed to the supernatural world? Especially in such distressing, violating ways. Even if you were his meant-to-be, his forever person, it would be ridiculous to believe that anyone would take all  in that with ease. He really outdid himself that time. 

“Let her be, you two can talk another time,”  Yoongi spoke, leaning against the wall. It was possible to see all the places that the pain was starting to crack through his semi-translucent form. “Good attempt, though. I’d give you a star for trying.” 

“This is not funny,” Jungkook mumbled, moving away from the door so you couldn’t hear him. The artificial lights above his head were sharp, buzzing mockingly. “You two keep saying that you’re here to help me, but you keep making stuff like this happen. If she really did like me, you just ruined everything.”

Yoongi raised one eyebrow. “Why do you care so much about that one?”

Jungkook glanced at him. “You told me she’s the one.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “I told you she was the right girl from physiology class, not that you two were going to die holding hands or something,” Yoongi told him. “You filled the blanks yourself.”

“That’s why we don’t give away all those details,” Taehyung scolded Yoongi, looking at him up and down. Jungkook had never seen him so irritated before — at least not about serious things. “You know we could get in real big trouble if someone heard about that. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, it’s kind of the entire deal of heaven to know about stuff.” 

“I know, I know,” Yoongi groaned, disregarding his preoccupations. Maybe Taehyung didn’t understand his galaxy-brain plan yet, but he was sure that the heavens would. Or at least he hoped so. “But I think there’s something else that we need to focus on. Jungkook wouldn’t care this much about the other girls he dated, even if it was meant to be.” 

“Why are you two talking like I’m not here?” Jungkook asked, annoyed. 

“Why are you talking to yourself like you’re not in a corridor of an apartment building?” Yoongi threw back. Without a second of hesitation, Jungkook picked up his backpack and turned on his heels, walking down the hall, completely done with them. “Hey, come back. Just tell me what’s the fuzz with this one.” 

He didn’t look back. “Aren’t you two supposed to know? All-knowing and shit.” 

“We want to hear it from you,” Yoongi pressed on. 

Jungkook opened the heavy door to the stairwell, allowing for it to hit behind him. Taehyung and Yoongi passed right through it, of course, and kept following him as he quickly moved down the concrete steps. “Y/N is my friend.”

Yoongi hummed. “Go on.”

“Isn’t that enough for a justification? What else do you want from me?” He inquired, aggressive. The sound of his steps echoed like drums through the expansion of the staircase, and he hoped that no one else had been listening to his apparent monologue. “I don’t wanna ruin this friendship by talking about her masturbation techniques, I don’t know if that makes the situation super unique.” 

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “You have other friends.” 

“I care for her, alright?” Jungkook turned around abruptly, making the two ghosts stop in their tracks. Taehyung had almost lost his balance, but it wasn’t as if that could have any serious consequences for him. 

Jungkook sighed, trying to control the anger that had built up so rapidly, and continued speaking. “I care for her more than other friends. Fuck, is that what you two wanted to hear? Besides, it’s not like I know anyone better than her.  I didn’t even think I had a chance with someone like that until you told me. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s like… super hot when she’s mad—”

“Oh, would you look at that.” Yoongi grinned, satisfied. “Jungkook’s whipped.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “I’m not.”

“Why are you so red?” Taehyung asked.

Jungkook covered his face, feeling the heat of his checks emanating against his palms. “I’m not!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, tiger,” Yoongi raised his hands in a silent request for forgiveness.  They were still a few steps above Jungkook, and the whole scene looked like something straight out of the Book of Revelation. “This is a good thing, we actually thought it would never happen. It’s not like you’ve been this introspective in what… five years? More even.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Yoongi sighed, and looked at Taehyung for confirmation. The other ghost nodded in a silent agreement, and Yoongi started to speak. “Listen, we’re here to help you, but we didn’t say everything,” he admitted. “We couldn’t, really, otherwise it wouldn’t be so... organic.”

“What?” 

“Jungkook, you were desperate to lose your virginity,” Yoongi explained. “You still are, in a way. And that’s not a good thing, because you’ll get the first thing that moves and you’ll try to stick your dick in it.”

Taehyung chuckled drily, looking at a fixed point. “Which is not a good idea, believe me,” he spoke in a mumble, and Jungkook could not help but think that his advice came from personal experience. That, of course, was a story for other, less sober times. 

“Is that why the two of you always interrupt me?” He asked, a bit offended. “Because those girls weren’t right for me? Like this is a purity cult or something?” 

“Eh.” Yoongi did a so-so gesture with his hand. “Kind of. Not really. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you actually feel something for this girl, something beyond the thoughts that come from your lower head.”

“And she feels something for you too, even after that trainwreck that we just witnessed in there,” Taehyung added patiently. “Which will help us a lot in the long run.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Jungkook crossed his arms, stubborn. He really could look and sound like a child throwing a tantrum when he wanted to. “I still don’t get it. It wasn’t your place to tell me who I could or couldn’t be with, it’s not as if you guys are—” 

“Jungkook, that’s enough,” Taehyung interrupted him. “You don’t think it makes sense? Stop and think for once in your life.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?” 

Taehyung glanced at him. “Listen, we just saved you from months of wrong dates and wrong nights. We pushed away people who didn’t really care about you, who just wanted you to use you, or who would end up cheating on you anyways. Not everyone gets this privilege,” he said, completely done with that victim mentality. “So, for once in your life, be grateful. Be grateful for the bad dates,  the embarrassment, the times that it didn’t work out. And, look, we are sorry for the way they had to go down, it wasn’t as funny as it seemed from our perspective. But if you didn’t have those bad dates, you’d have very, very bad months following them. So you’re welcome.” 

“And all those bad dates lead you to the right person,” Yoongi completed, watching as Jungkook’s expression withered into shame. He was staring to get it — they could almost see the hamster in his brain start running. “Now, listen, we don’t know if this is the for-life situation, that’s not the kind of information we have, alright? Do I look like a seraphin to you? No. But does it matter?  No. Most relationships aren’t the for-life thing anyways, but they are here to teach you something. And if the afterlife thought that there was something good for you here, who are we to judge?” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung agreed. “Now, can you  please forget about all those past people and just focus on her? Maybe shut the fuck up while you do that? I get that you wanted to get your dick wet, but there’s a time and a place for that.” 

The boy sighed, and leaned against the red handrails. It took Jungkook a few seconds to speak out. “I feel like I’ve just been lectured by my parents,” he admitted. 

Taehyung relaxed his shoulders. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to slap some sense into you for months now, but I didn’t really have the permission.” 

“Feel better?” Jungkook asked.

He nodded. “Much better.”

“I’m happy for you,” he said. Jungkook ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over his eyes. “And about Y/N… There’s no way she’ll ever talk to me after this mess. I ruined everything.”

Taehyung nodded. “You pretty much did, yeah.” 

“You took the worst case scenario and managed to make it even more horrible,” Yoongi said. “It’s pretty impressive, actually.” 

“Thanks, that’s great.” Jungkook chuckled, humorless. He could always count on them for emotional support. “But, I mean… What do I do now? I mean, is there anything that we could do to save this?” 

“Worry not, my child,” Yoongi smirked, crossing his arms. “Taehyung and I are masters of seduction, and we’re here to help you. Just trust us.” 

“And before you say something,” Taehyung interrupted, raising one finger. “You never had the right girl before, so we weren’t really trying. I think we can find some real solid ground here.” 

Jungkook breathed out, and looked down at the grey stairs. Yeah, it’s not like he wasn’t at the bottom of the well already. “Fine. One last chance,” he agreed, looking back at the ghosts. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

______________

Much to Jungkook’s delight, he didn’t need to muster up the courage to talk to you, because you did that first. 

For the first time in their lives (and deaths), Yoongi and Taehyung actually did something right. Jungkook didn’t really know the details of their plan, all that he knew was that they would find a way to “make you see what you were missing” so that you would “come crawling back to him”. Which didn’t sound threatening at all.

 Countless possibilities crossed Jungkook’s head — horror movie hauntings, Taehyung invading your dreams with claws for fingers, Yoongi with a wet wig crawling out of your TV — but, in the end, no matter how much he insisted, the two of them just wouldn’t say a word. Apparently, there was a lot going on backstage that Jungkook had no idea about, so he should just “take it easy” and wait for the sequence of events to unravel. Amazing. Now he knew how the characters in Final Destination felt. 

“Just be patient, young one,” Taehyung had told him, thrown over his couch like a Victorian monarch. “All you need to know is that she will be back. Everything else it’s just… details.” 

And, two weeks after the dormitory incident, you did. 

There was a muffled thud as you placed your large books over the wooden table, and sat down across from him. The silence of the library didn’t allow for Jungkook to foresee your arrival, and to meet your gaze so suddenly was enough for his face to burn up in shame, his heart drumming against his ribcage. His sympathetic system really needed to quit with that bullshit before he collapsed. 

“Hey,” you mumbled, seeming just as uncomfortable as he was. “Can we talk? You know what about.”

The boy swallowed dry, and leaned a bit forward. “Y-Yeah, sure,” he whispered back. “I’m really sorry, Y/N, I don’t know why I thought—”

“For how long?” you sliced his sentence short, making his lips fall shut. 

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

You cleared your throat, and shuffled on your seat. As much as the library was practically empty, neither of you felt courageous enough to use your usual voice tone — especially when dealing with that subject. “How long have you been able to, you know, see them?”

Jungkook took a second to respond, licking his dry lips and looking at the line of bookshelves as if seeking for the right thing to say. He felt awkward enough just interacting with someone from the opposite sex, but talking about the ghosts he saw? Hell, that bordered on a panic attack. Especially after the circus show that was that past study session. “Almost two years now, I think,” he finally answered. “But they told me they’ve been around for a bit longer. I just couldn’t see it.” 

You shook your head in concordance, even if the information was everything but easy to understand. “That’s crazy,” you spoke. “I don’t know how you deal with it.” 

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. “Not very well, as you can probably tell.” 

 “I don’t think I can judge you. I didn’t precisely react well either.” You swallowed dry, wide eyes flickering on the world behind Jungkook. “Are we alone now?”

As much as he already knew the answer, he looked around just to check. “Surprisingly, yeah,” Jungkook responded, slightly suspicious. Yoongi and Taehyung were always looking over his shoulder and throwing him into messy situations, he couldn’t tell why they weren’t there when, quite frankly, it was their perfect shot at humiliation. Maybe they really were doing their jobs for once. “I don’t know why they’re not here. That’s weird.”

You shrugged as if to say that you wouldn’t know either. “What are their names again?”

“Yoongi and Taehyung,” he answered, then waited another second to see if he could feel their presence. Nothing again. That was really strange — they often responded upon being called. “Listen, Y/N, I hate what we went through. They had no right to say those things. I’m used to the privacy issues, since I have been with them for a while. But you aren’t, and I can only imagine how weird you felt hearing all that. I’m really, really sorry.”

You pressed your lips together which, Jungkook guessed, was a failed attempt to suppress the rubor that exploded across your cheeks. He couldn’t blame you, though, for there were limits that were crossed. “I’m over it if you are,” was what you forced yourself to say. 

“I am,” he lied. None of you were particularly good at not telling the truth, and that was pretty obvious. But ignoring it was a start. 

“Good, okay.” You cleared your throat, placing the palms of your hands against the pile of books. “Sorry for lying about needing help in physiology, and all that. I just needed an excuse to spend more time with you, as you know now. I guess it’s obvious that I kinda have a huge crush on you.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook laughed, extremely relieved to notice that your last sentence was in present tense. “I kinda have a huge crush on you too.” 

Honestly, even if it wasn’t for life, he’d have to give you props for still liking a guy that had had a borderline psychotic breakdown in your apartment, talked about your pet tortoise, and your masturbation technique, and still had the nerve to expose you to the supernatural world. It was a lot. Good on you for taking it like a champ. 

“And,” he continued, “sorry for using my ghosts to expose your secrets. I just needed to find a way for you to believe me, and I had no idea about what they were going to say. I was pretty much in a frenzied state, I wasn’t thinking straight. It won’t happen again.” 

“Apologies accepted.” You smiled, relieved. You were really beautiful, Jungkook thought in a breathless instant. He could look at you all day. “You know, it’s going to take me some time to get used to all that. I mean, I’m still not a hundred percent sure I believe in everything, but, I… My lamp flew across the room, and you told me things that you simply couldn’t know about. So, if it’s a prank, it’s a really good one.”

“I know how it is.” He nodded in agreement. “It was really difficult for me at first, too. I understand if you’d rather just stay away from me from now on.” 

You sighed, looking down at your books —  the two mammoth-sized volumes of Harrison’s Internal Medicine staring at you in mockery. “Weird thing is: I don’t really want to.” You crossed your arms and leaned back against the chair. Was that the sound of angels singing? Jungkook couldn’t tell. “I’d love to spend more time with you. Alone, if possible. And that counts both planes of existence.” 

“Sounds fair, I’d love that.” Jungkook smiled. As he met your eyes, he was filled with a  warm, rose-colored courage that he had never felt before. “Actually, I was wondering if, you know… you wanna do something? With me? Alone, of course. No ghosts. One of these days, I don’t know. If you’re not busy—”

You raised your eyebrows, interested. “You’re asking me out?”

He sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. “Trying, yeah. You can see I’m not the best at that either.”

Your smile grew a little. “That’s a big yes.”

“Really?” Jungkook stared at you like a lost puppy, his mind going completely blank for a second or two. The hamster in his brain was now somersaulting through his body, landing on his stomach and hitting him with a wave of nausea. “Wow, thanks. I don’t really have an idea of what we could do, though. Didn’t think I’d get that far.”

There was an instant of quietude as you thought for a moment, the space between the two of you permeated by the vague sounds of pages turning. “Movies?” You asked. 

“Sounds great.” Jungkook smiled openly, his shoulders falling in alleviation. He didn’t know what Taehyung and Yoongi had done, but he was beyond thankful for it. Seemed like their sacrifices weren’t in vain, after all. “The film majors are doing this 2000’s marathon this week. I think this Saturday it’ll be either Mean Girls or 17 Again.”

“I’m in,” you spoke excitedly. “I’ll be there, just text me the details.”

Jungkook almost swallowed his own tongue as he watched you stand up, presenting him with a gorgeous view of thighs beneath the level of your skirt. “Great!” He exclaimed a bit too loud, his voice a bit too high-pitched, awakening his inner thirteen-year-old. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice another octave. “I mean, yeah, great. Thank you for… saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking.” You placed your hair behind your shoulder, and leaned in to pick up the heavy pile of books. All nine kilos of Internal Medicine. 

“See you there,” he said. 

You smiled. “See you, Kookie.” 

Jungkook watched you walk away as if he was floating in a fever dream, completely unable to believe what had just unfolded. Did he seriously manage to get a date with you? Of all people? He must’ve been hallucinating. Maybe he ended up falling down the stairwell and died, perhaps that was his heaven, and he would— 

Behind him, Taehyung sneered. “Kookie? You’re getting softer than your dick.” 

Jungkook turned around so brusquely that the chair tilted back and, if it wasn’t for him holding down to the corner of the table, he would’ve fallen to the ground. “You two were there all along?” He whispered-screamed. Before he could land a sermon on them, though, he met the devilish smirk that was plastered all over Yoongi’s features. Oh no. No. The movies. “No, Yoongi, I know what you’re thinki—”

“Get in, loser, we’re going to the movies.” 

_________________

Saturday rolled around and, with it, came your much anticipated movie date. Jungkook had spent the previous night tossing and turning on his bed, completely monopolized by anxiety, thinking about every possible apocalyptic scenario that could go down. What if he tried to take a slip of his drink, but ended up blinding himself with the straw? Maybe he would step on the wrong chord and set the entire college on fire. Or maybe he would trip, fall down on a poor girl, and kill her on the spot. That would be awful, you would never talk to him again after any of that — the imaginary disappointment in your face was like a punch in the gut. 

Was he being ridiculous? Obviously. Did that stop his pre-date panic? Obviously not. 

Still, with the might of a thousand warriors, Jungkook managed to drag himself to your date, his knees almost giving out beneath him when he saw you — he didn’t believe you would actually come, for some of him still thought it was all a sadistic heaven prank. Somehow, he blurted out a compliment about how good you looked while he was having a heart attack, and almost lost his consciousness when you smiled at him. 

Yep, it would be a difficult night. 

The movie marathon consisted of three 2000’s movies, and the two of you managed to arrive right before Mean Girls started, fumbling on your seats as the rest of the room grew quiet. The makeshift classroom didn’t look like a movie theater in the slightest, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting that in the first place — it was nothing more than an agglomeration of chairs and desks, combined with a few puff chairs and old couches scattered around. Much to your delight, you and Jungkook managed to grab one of those couches before another couple returned to their seats, and he could see that his ghost buddies had already found their own place on the empty chairs behind the two of you. 

Surprise! None of the catastrophic scenarios in his mind actually came true. In fact, he had a great time with you, laughing at your jokes and sometimes flat-out stealing Yoongi’s commentary just to make you chuckle, which granted him a few mumbled complaints coming from the back row. 

“Jungkook is so superior, don’t you think, Taehyung?” Yoongi mocked, and Jungkook was sure that he would be kicking his seat if he could. “So smart. So great. But can’t even figure out his own jokes. Has to steal them from a poor dead man. You’re a grave robber.” 

Taehyung chuckled. “Hey, you’re helping him, at least. That’s our whole point here.”

“Grave robber!” he repeated, more aggressively this time. “I can’t believe you’d ruin Mean Girls for me like this. Not even hell would be so cruel.” 

“How dare you say that about hell? If I get in trouble because you can’t keep your mouth shut, Yoongi, I swear to God—”

“Now you’re saying God’s name in vain, you heretic! That’s so much worse!” 

Jungkook had to bite back a laugh as the two continued bickering behind him, only half aware of the scene in which Regina George glued her own picture on the burn book. He didn’t know when exactly he had done it — he had been so on edge the entire night that it was almost as if his own brain was instantly deleting his memories, but he had managed to curl one arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He was sure that you could hear the frantic heartbeat of his heart against his chest, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t think he could even get that far. 

But he did, and even reached beyond that. 

Once the screen faded to black and the credits started appearing, there was a resounding wave of claps in the room, cheering for the absolute cultural reset that was that movie. One of the students moved to the front of the room, explaining that they would take a ten minutes break, then would return with She’s All That. Apparently, 1999 was close enough to the 2000’s for it to be picked as well. 

“Do you wanna stay and watch it?” He asked, fighting every muscle in his body not to smell your hair. He knew that it would be super creepy, yeah, but your head was right there and it smelled so good. 

You removed your body from his chest, looking up at him. “I would love to, but I have to wake up early tomorrow to study,” you said. “Big test on Monday.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, slightly let down. To be honest, he had completely forgotten that information until that point. Seems like he would have a lot to catch up on during the next day. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.” 

You thanked him with a smile, and you two got moving. 

The walk back to your place wasn’t exactly awkward, but it could have also been a lot better. The two of you talked about the movie animatedly, the subject that you had to study — an awful amount of gastric pathology to memorize — and, eventually, landed on your weirdest experiences during hospital rounds. You were in the middle of telling him how two toddlers (twins) managed to puke on you at the same time, and how you thought that was a sign of a telepathic connection between the two, when he felt the back of his hand brush against yours, and everything around him turned into static. Suddenly, it was all that he could think about. 

Jungkook had already spent the entire date with questions flying around his head. When was the right time to pull you close? Could he hold your hand, or would that be too bold? Could you smell how sweaty he was? Or maybe his deodorant was too strong? If he ran away, trained to be an astronaut, and joined the Mars colonization mission, would he be able to avoid embarrassing himself again? 

And, more importantly: would it be weird to kiss you goodnight? 

Considering the fact that he had no clue how to read your body language, and that almost all of his romantic experience came from bad sitcoms and Twilight marathons with Yoongi, Jungkook didn’t judge himself suited to answer that last question. He didn’t know if he should hold your hand, he didn’t know if you were just being polite or if you actually had a good time. Again and again, his anxiety got the best of him. He should really get back to seeing his campus counselor. 

“So… we’re here,” you said, holding your hands in front of your body. You had stopped at the entrance of your block, and Jungkook took that as a sign that you didn’t want him to go all the way back to your apartment. Fair enough. “Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun. We should do this again sometimes.” 

“For sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, somewhat relieved that you asked for that. At least that was a clear sign that you didn’t completely hate him. “That would be great.” 

You agreed and looked down at your shoes. The darkness of the night enveloped the two of you, only half of your features illuminated by the dim yellow shine of the nearest light post. Jungkook almost fainted when you stared into his eyes, with a faint blush painting your cheeks, and questioned, “So, you’re not gonna kiss me?” 

Windows’ blue screen. Please, hold.

 “I… I, uh—” Jungkook’s mouth felt as if he had just swallowed an entire desert, his brain fighting to keep his voice steady. Your eyes, so focused and expectant, felt like daggers against his chest. “I didn’t know if you wanted to,” he finally admitted. 

Your shoulders fell as a tender smile curled up on your roseate lips. Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. “I do,” you told him gently. His heart almost leaped out of his throat. “Do you want to?” 

And that was the easiest question that he would ever answer. “Yeah,” Jungkook said. 

You smiled. “Perfect.” 

The boy barely had time to react before your hand was curling around the fabric of his shirt, and you pulled him towards you in a playful tug. Jungkook’s eyes stayed comically widened for a second after your lips met, but, soon enough, he allowed himself to melt into your embrace, his nervous hands landing on your waist, and his mind instantly calming down. 

He kissed you slowly, carefully, almost afraid that, at the faintest of movements, reality would shatter and he would lose that moment forever. Of course, it didn’t, and he stayed on that instant a bit longer before, at last, he pulled away, slightly breathless. 

“I should’ve done that sooner,” he confessed. 

You tilted your head at him, fingers playing with his hair. “It happened at the right time,” you said. “Some things can’t be rushed. Especially the good ones.” 

Just like that, he understood what Taehyung and Yoongi had been saying all those years. No matter how cliche it was, there was some truth to the saying that ‘what is supposed to happen, will’. And, the better that something is, the more work it will require. 

But, as he kissed you again, Jungkook realized that it was all worth it in the end.

____________

The following months by your side were so amazing that Jungkook constantly brought back his theory that “maybe he was actually dead, and that was heaven.” And, if it was, he would make sure to shake God’s hand himself because, holy fuck, was he one lucky man. 

Okay, maybe the first few weeks together were a bit painfully cringe-worthy, but he was really trying to pretend as if they didn’t happen. Jungkook didn’t really get the memo, and he had to slowly figure out how to behave romantically with you. He got it wrong the first few times — kissing you at the worst possible moment, or sending you a huge bouquet of roses during your microbiology exam — but, eventually, you guided him towards more neutral grounds. Then everything went smoothly. 

Surprisingly, even the undead duo calmed down for a while. Yoongi and Taehyung were still around, since they had no other option, but were much quieter now, only making punctual remarks when Jungkook made a fool out of himself. Hell, they even left the room when things started getting more serious between the two of you, instead of giving Cosmopolitan-worthy advice, and that was a huge improvement. 

But, of course, it wouldn’t be Jungkook’s life if there wasn’t a huge joke waiting just around the corner. Soon enough, another issue would present itself. 

It came in the form of a warm mumble against his lips, and the vague — yet deliciously noticeable — rolling of your hips against his own. “Jungkook,” you called, breathless after a long make-out session. The two of you were on his couch, with you sitting on his lap, straddling him. “I want you.” 

He froze. What else would he do? Jungkook was a panicked virgin. He knew that your intimate times would happen eventually — and he really wanted them to — but he didn’t expect that his mind would completely malfunction once he got so close, with his erection growing inside his pants and the softness of your breasts pressing against his torso. It was just a lot, alright? 

And, lost amidst the tempestuous sea of his sudden despair, all that he could utter back was, “Are… Are you sure you want to do this right now?” 

“Yeah.” You placed a strand of hair behind your ear. Jungkook thought that he could faint on the spot. It was actually a pretty common sensation with him. “You don’t want it?”

“No — I mean yeah! Yeah, I want it.” He choked on his words, looking down in embarrassment, only to meet the contour of your thighs. His youth leader had been right all along: temptation was everywhere. “I’m just… I’ve never done anything before.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down, placing your hands on his shoulders. The heat of your palms seemed to have some effect on the chaotic emotions that boiled inside him, for his muscles relaxed considerably under your touch. “I won’t pressure you, okay? If you want to take more time, it’s completely fine.” 

“No, it’s not like that. I don’t feel pressured.” He shook his head, then looked up at you. You could almost feel the conflict inside his gaze, the mixture of anticipation and fear that you knew all too well. “I want you, Y/N, I really do. I’m just nervous.”

“It’s fine,” you repeated. “We don’t have to do anything now, and we can start slo—”

But he couldn’t listen to the end of your phrase, because a familiar voice damn near hollered from the other side of the room. “Taehyung, come in here! Quick!” Yoongi yelled, signaling through the door like he was controlling the air traffic. “He’s getting some! Jungkook’s about to get his cherry popped the fuck off!” 

You tilted your head to the side, staring him down with preoccupation. “Jungkook? Are you okay?”

“The fuck! There is no fucking way!” Taehyung’s voice got louder as he yelled, signaling his growing proximity. “Call NASA right now!”

Jungkook sighed, throwing his head against the couch. Goodbye erection, and goodbye any chance of having sex that day. “Yoongi and Taehyung just showed up,” he mumbled bitterly. 

You lowered your gaze and took a deep breath, then removed yourself from his lap. Jungkook hated the lack of heat, and he swore he would have drop-kicked the two if they weren’t in a different dimension. The certainty of death was all that he needed to know that he would get his revenge some day. “Of course they did,” you complained, fixing your clothes. “I love being cockblocked by cockless ghosts. Again.”

“Hey!” Taehyung sounded actually offended. 

Jungkook turned around harshly, his voice bitter. “Can the two of you just fuck off? This is not the time.” 

“So you two can fuck?” Yoongi grinned, then looked at Taehyung. “We should, actually.”

“Jungkook… this is too weird now.” You raised your hands in a silent bargain for it all to stop. You could deal with a few psychic sessions every once in a while, but being a voyeurism victim for ghosts wouldn’t be the way you wanted to spend your afternoon. “Let’s do this another time, okay? I should get going anyways. Big day at the hospital tomorrow.” 

He took one of his hands to his face, massaging his temple. You got up from the couch, reaching for your backpack. “Yeah, okay.” The boy pouted, and you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. Disappointing end for a night, to say the least. “Good luck tomorrow. Text me if you get an interesting case!”  

“Thanks! I will.” You threw your backpack strap over your shoulder and started walking towards the exit. Jungkook couldn’t blame you for just wanting to leave that place as soon as possible, he was sure that the discomfort was much worse for you. “Bye, Jungkook! I’ll let you know when I get to my place.”

He opened his mouth to thank you, but you were already out the door. The lock clicked shut, and the silence became thick, mocking him. Even if he already had an actual girlfriend, Jungkook still found himself being left behind by someone that would never want to see him again — dick semi-hard and morale shattered on the ground. Seems like he always found himself back in that position. 

Taehyung materialized on the couch next to him, hugging his knees. He was staring at the closed door, somewhat expecting that you would come back, but knowing very well that you wouldn’t do so. “Okay, I accept that it was our fault,” he said, oscillating his gaze towards Jungkook. “Sorry, man. We are like, super invested in this. There’s almost nothing interesting going on in the afterlife and this is, like, better than any TV show airing right now.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, utterly exhausted at the mess that had become his life. He was done giving them sermons: it had basically turned into the world’s worst pastime and gave little to no results. “You know what? Just promise me you’re not going to show up next time.” He stared both of them down. “I don’t wanna be watched, that’s just weird. And I know that Y/N isn’t happy about that either.” 

Yoongi shrugged. “Some people like it.” 

“Yeah, I’m not one of those people,” he told him. “Guys, please. I know you two are as excited as I am about this, and I appreciate your... support, but I think this is something I need to do alone. In peace. Not being watched by spirits. That’s isn’t too much to ask.”  

“He’s right, you know?” Taehyung said, looking back at Yoongi. “We should stay in our lane for now.” 

The other ghost looked down at his feet, which basically morphed into the carpet beneath them. For the first time in two long years, he actually seemed like he was rethinking his actions. “Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi responded. “We got carried away. We’ll leave next time. Maybe try something when your neighbors are having a movie night.” 

Jungkook’s shoulders fell in alleviation.  Maybe not everything was doomed. “Thank you,” he spoke, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll probably do that. When is the next one?” 

Taehyung looked at Yoongi, then back at him. “What are the chances that you’re gonna get your virgin shit together by tomorrow night?”  

___________

Slim to none, actually, but he had managed to (kind of) do it. Focus on the “kind of.”

Jungkook had spent the previous night doing in-depth research about sexual intercourse,  and basing his actions in real-life situations. That meant that he stayed up until four in the morning watching porn. Not masturbating. Just watching it very closely and trying to learn what to do — like an actual serial killer. 

“Do you think that this is… a good idea?” Taehyung spoke from the other side of his room, preoccupation plastered all over his face. The whole porn-science was funny for the first twenty minutes, and then it just ended up being terrifying. “You know that people don’t actually have sex like that, right? It’s all exaggerated.” 

“Quiet!” Jungkook raised his finger after a particularly loud moan echoed, his eyes red and glued to the computer screen. The white light from his device was awfully sharp, bathing his figure and making his image border on demonic. It really wasn’t a good look. “I’m researching. I need to know what to do.” 

“You look and sound like a maniac.” Taehyung walked closer to the bed, measuring his movements. After he died, he thought that he would never be afraid of any other living thing — but Jungkook had just proved him wrong. Against his best judgement, he took a peek at the screen. “No! Oh my— That’s not natural. That’s so wrong. You should know, you studied anatomy.” 

“I’m not gonna do this tomorrow,” Jungkook mumbled, closing the video. Taehyung recoiled back to the darkness of the room like a vampire that had just been touched by the sun. “The plot was interesting.” 

“You’re not even hard, man,” he said, pointing at Jungkook’s trousers. “This is like, really weird. You should stop before you have some problem getting it up tomorrow.” 

“What are you trying to say?” He narrowed his eyes, paranoid. “That wouldn’t happen. I know what I can do.”  

“You’re the medical student, take a look,” Taehyung insisted. “There’s research about that, pornography affects young men and women a lot and— Actually, what the fuck am I talking about? This is crazy. I should’ve left with Yoongi.” 

“Wait, I just—” Jungkook closed his computer with a sigh. His hair was disheveled and his gaze was unfocused. It really was the oddest night in Taehyung’s life/death. “I just don’t know what to do tomorrow. I’m about to have an anxiety attack. It’s like the third one tonight.” 

Taehyung pressed his lips together, the discomfort inside him being replaced by a warm sense of understanding. “Man, she knows you don’t have experience. She isn’t expecting a porn star performance, or whatever the fuck you were just watching.” He pointed to the computer, which was now neglected amongst the sea of blankets. “By the way, I’m a changed spirit. I hate you for making me see that.” 

Jungkook would have laughed at his distress if he wasn’t too tired to do that. “Technically, you decided to look at it yourself,” he corrected. “But, yeah, I know she’s not expecting anything great. But I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself, you know? Not like it’s a rare occasion or anything.” 

Taehyung shrugged. Being alive made everything seem so much more important than it actually was, he thought. “Lay back and let her take the lead, then.” 

Jungkook furrowed his brow, his eyes widening at the idea. Of course! That was the big  galaxy brain moment he needed all along. “Are you serious? It���s that simple?” He asked, hopeful. 

Taehyung chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

Yeah. It was that simple. Who would’ve thought that those see-through idiots actually would have something intelligent to say? 

Really, it was a time of miracles in Jungkook’s life. The following day, the planets aligned and, for the first time ever since puberty, everything went right for him: the class ended a bit early, his neighbors decided to watch two movies instead of one, and his place was perfectly devoid of any paranormal activity by the time you wandered into it. 

He didn’t tell you that he had planned that entire thing before it happened — he thought it would be super strange to schedule his virginity loss out loud — and he was glad to see that everything evolved naturally. One hour and forty minutes after you arrived, you two were already at the same point that you had left the day before — only, this time, you two actually managed to get to his bed.

“They’re not here, are they? You’re sure?” You asked in between kisses for what should’ve been the fifth time. 

“No, I asked them to leave earlier.” Jungkook’s hands pressed down on your hips, the sensation of your center rolling against his erection eliciting a sigh from him. Ha! Fuck Taehyung and his soft dick curse. “I actually… Before we do anything, I actually wanted to know if you could, you know, help me a little.” 

You hummed, taking your face away from his. Jungkook watched as you licked your lips, your eyes dazed, and leaned in to place another kiss against his mouth. “In what way?” You asked. 

“Just... show me what to do,” he said. “What you like, if I’m doing something wrong… everything.” 

With a soft smile, you agreed, arms curling around his shoulders. “Of course,” you told him. “It’ll be my pleasure.” 

That being said, you dove back to his lips, feeling as he both simultaneously relaxed and tensed up under your touches. Jungkook had evolved a lot in those past few months, you realized, since the early-dating version of him wouldn’t find himself in that position without turning into a stuttering, blushing mess beneath you. It was kind of cute, but you’d never say that out loud. 

You felt his hands trailing up your back, underneath your clothes, his palms dwelling in the softness of your skin for a moment before, in a courageous movement, he decided to pull your shirt up. There was a short separation of your mouths as the piece of clothing slid up your arms, and collapsed against the floor in a puddle of cotton. 

Jungkook sighed once he felt the lace of your bra against his hands; the softness of your breasts was something that he continuously daydreamed about. Now, without the barrier of your clothes, all that he needed was to remove that last constriction and he would be— 

“Oh well…” He chuckled nervously, fumbling with your bra. “Sorry, I don’t know how to open this.”

You smiled at the embarrassment that danced around his features. “Relax, okay?” You said, moving your hands to your back and taking care of that problem yourself. You’d teach him about the magic of unclasping bras another time. “It’s fine.”

But Jungkook didn’t have time to think about an answer, for soon your bra was meeting your shirt on the floor. His reaction would’ve been the same if you just moved over and came back with a baby dinosaur in your hands — his eyes widening in amazement as he took in the image of your nude breasts, a small whimper perishing in his throat as he slithered his hands upward, cupping them. 

Your breath stopped for a moment when he leaned in, reluctant, and enveloped one of your nipples with his warm mouth, his tongue delicately coming out to trace circles on your sensitive flesh. Jungkook groaned at the sensation, his cock becoming unbearably hard against his pants, and tilted your body over so he could be on top of you. 

You curled up against the sheets, sighing in delight as the boy continued to work on your breasts, kissing and sucking lightly, taking his time. Every time you looked down, you could see that Jungkook was having almost as much fun as you, the small moans that dripped from his tongue vibrating inside your chest. 

“Does it feel good?” He raised his gaze towards you, expectant. “Am I doing a good job?” 

“Yes, very good.” Your hands curled around the roots of his hair. The action was gentle, but Jungkook shuddered under the sensation — every small movement proved itself to be a lot for him to handle. “You’re doing amazing. Is there something that you want to do, Kookie?” 

The boy licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Part of him (probably the sleep deprived one) still didn’t believe that you two were actually doing that — that it wasn’t just a figment of his horny imagination. No, it was real. You were right there in front of him, beautiful and devastating, caressing his hair as you waited for an answer. 

“I… I want to make you feel good,” he said, wide-eyed and hesitant. His dick felt painfully hard being so constructed by his pants and, suddenly, he became aware of how clothed he still was. No wonder it was so hot. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” 

Your lips curled up at his adorableness, one of your hands meeting his wrist. Patiently, you guided it down, and placed it on the hem of your pants. “Can you touch me?” You questioned. “I can tell you what I like.” 

“Oh, please,” he almost pleaded, his hand already fumbling to open your pants. Much to his delight, those were a lot easier than your bra, and they were soon sliding down your legs with ease. 

He took a moment to take in your form, eyes traveling up from your legs, to your hips, then all the way back to your breasts. As Jungkook met your gaze, he allowed for a suspire of relief to depart from his mouth, shoulders relaxing. “I’m so lucky,” he spoke, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

The smile that you presented him looked brighter than all of the stars above. “Come here,” you called, leaning against your elbows. “Give me a kiss.” 

Obedient, Jungkook did as you requested, a grunt escaping his chest once you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, nails brushing lightly against the skin of his neck. He had goosebumps at the sensation, his hand moving by its own will, navigating down your stomach and towards your heat. 

His fingers hovered, insecure, over the hem of your panties for a moment. Still, at the sound of his name being spoken against the kiss, he was overtaken by an ephemeral spark of courage. Soon, your panties were on the floor too. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Jungkook whined at the contact, his fingers dwelling just above your entrance. Inside his pants, his cock twitched at the sensation, his lower body already tingling with excitement. He didn’t know how he would manage not to cum in his pants, but he would have to find a way. “What do I do now?” 

“Now...” you said, leaning your head against the pillow. “Move up and find my clit. Make all those hours of anatomy worth it,” you joked. 

Jungkook nodded, but anatomy was much more difficult when he wasn’t actually looking at a certain part of the body — he was much more interested in watching your expression. Embarrassed, he did as you requested, trailing his wet fingers up until you told him to stop. “Right there,” you said, sighing once you felt his hand pressing down on it, starting to trace small circular patterns. “That’s it, baby, great job.” 

His heart leaped at the compliment, and his actions became firmer. Jungkook thought he would go insane when he heard you whimper and cry out at the sensation, your hips bucking up against his hand ever so slightly. “You’re so hot,” he breathlessly confessed, his words coming in a hot puff of air against your neck. His digits slowly trailed down, towards your entrance, and he paused. “Can I?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

Jungkook swallowed hard, adventuring one finger inside you. At the sensation of your walls clenching around him, he moaned, biting his lip. “God, you’re so tight,” he told you, adding a second finger. You raised your hips at the contact, hands curling on his hair. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” 

His mouth came back to your breasts, sucking and licking your flesh. Jungkook was a mess, you realized — pressing down his hard member against your thigh, whining against your skin as his fingers curled inside you, sinking into your wetness. God, you weren’t made of steel. “I want it,” you told him, and he didn’t understand your words for a moment. “I want to feel you, Jungkook.” 

And he didn’t need anything else. The boy moved away from your body and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes. It was no time for hesitation— he didn’t know how much of his precious alone time he had left. “Condoms.” He pointed at his nightstand. “Top drawer.” 

You turned around on the bed, reaching for the furniture as the boy unbuckled his belt and clumsily removed his pants. The mattress bounced beneath you as Jungkook tossed himself around, finding a way to lose his balance as he threw his pants on the ground. Much to his relief, you weren’t paying much attention to it. 

He was already panting — in a mixture of excitement and his pathetic effort to remove his pants — by the time that you gave him the condom. “Do you put it on, or do you want me to?” You asked. 

Jungkook had trained on enough bananas to know that he could do it, but he wasn’t gonna let the chance to have you touching him down there pass. “You do it, please.” 

You nodded, sitting next to his expectant figure. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in anticipation, his muscles glistening with the small droplets of sweat that decorated his caramel skin.  His cock was hard and heavy against the fabric of his grey underwear, practically calling for your care. 

Attentively, you watched as his abdomen tensed up at the feeling of one of your hands pressing down against his clothed erection, delicately moving towards his crown. A gasp tumbled from his lips as you rolled your thumb against it, noticing the wetness that had already accumulated beneath your hand, and he rolled his hips against the pressure. Really, Jungkook was too precious. 

“Please, don’t tease,” he begged, eyes following your every move. His cock throbbed in your hands, needy. “I don’t think I can hold it much longer.” 

With a hum of agreement, you moved your hand away from his erection, and pulled his underwear down gently. Jungkook whimpered at the fiction, and the way his cock was freed from its constraints, bouncing back against his abdomen. The smallest of touches was more than enough for him to lose himself. 

“Shhh, it’s fine,” you calmed him down, slowly (too slowly) rolling the condom on him. His hands clenched into fists next to him, grabbing handfuls of the white sheets. Okay, maybe you were being a bit mean. “Just tell me what you want.” 

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, holding back a cry of frustration. “Ride me, please,” his words came out in a plea, his expression so permeated by need that you thought that he could cry if you teased him any further. God, everything was so perfect about him — the glistening in his onyx irises, the reddening of his lips as he bit down on them, trying to fight back a whimper as you placed yourself over him. “I— I need to feel you. I’m going crazy.” 

There was no need for more convincing — again, you weren’t made of steel. 

You sighed as you sank down on his member, one of your hands finding support against his pecs, as the other curled around his cock, guiding him inside you. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head against the alabaster pillow, his flower-like lips opening to cry out at the sensation. “Oh fuck,” he cursed. “Oh, baby, that’s so good.” 

Seeing him like that, so submissive, so deliciously responsive to your faintest of touches, was, at the very least, extremely erotic. You loved to see the way he flinched and whined at the sensation of your walls clenching around him, his hands unsure of where they should be on your body. Awfully slow, you rose your hips from him, almost letting him slip out, before you shifted your weight back down, watching as Jungkook moaned out your name. 

God, he was really about to fall apart. 

Slowly, you began setting a pace, moving up and down on his cock. It was a lot slower than Jungkook expected, but it was just the right speed to make him appreciate every sensation of your body wrapping his own. 

“Feels good?” you asked, a bit breathless. The sensation of him filling you up was even better than you had anticipated, and, combined with his shameless exclamations of pleasure, you didn’t think that you’d last much longer either. 

Before he could answer, a tremulous sigh ruptured upon his mouth, reverberating just behind his teeth. Jungkook took another second to find his words, inhaling sharply. “So good,” he spoke, and you almost whined out at the lust that ornamented his voice. “Can you move faster? Please?” 

Maybe in different times, you’d take your time to provoke him a bit more. At that point, though, you’d do anything he wanted you to. “Yeah,” you agreed, doing as requested. The sound of your wetness and the slapping of skin against skin was lewd, filling the room alongside Jungkook’s voice. “Like this?”  

“Fuck, yeah, like this,” he cried out, closing his eyes in absolute euphoria. He could feel the movement of your asscheeks against his palms, the sensation enough to drive him insane. Jungkook was already amazed at the fact that he didn’t embarrass himself with premature ejaculation the second that you removed his underwear — but it didn’t mean that he didn’t get close to it. The second his hands squeezed your ass, he was positive he would end the game a bit earlier than the two of you would like. “It— it feels so good. Please, don’t stop.” 

With a moan, you threw your body forward, placing kisses on the curvature of his neck, a sensation that quickly sent shivers down his skin. The new angle made his cock hit even deeper inside you, causing for you both to melt in pleasure. “You feel so good,” you told him, nails digging against his flesh. The knot in your stomach was all too familiar, and you knew that you wouldn’t take much longer. “I love having you inside me.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s good.” He mumbled, only half aware of the words leaving his lips. Jungkook’s eyes were dazed and unfocused, looking at nowhere in particular, his fingertips digging in your flesh. “You’re… you’re getting tighter.” 

“Y-Yeah,” you agreed, voice coming out in a moan. “I’m close.” 

He swallowed hard. “I can help,” he said. 

Before you could ask what he was trying to do, Jungkook moved his hand back to your center, two of his fingers playing with your clit. You gasped at the sensation, eyes closing as you kept riding him, rolling your hips, feeling as he reached for every part of you. It was all becoming too much, the pleasure that decorated his features, the  delicious friction of his body against yours, the frail moans that dropped from his tongue like honey. He was just too much. 

With a faint call of his name — a melody that would be stuck in his head forever —, you finally crossed the threshold of your orgasm, and came around him; morphing into a trembling and moaning mess. Jungkook watched, in absolute awe, as your face was monopolized by bliss, your teeth sinking down on your bottom lip and your eyes rolling back. 

He removed his hand from your heat, placing it on your waist. Using every final ounce of energy in your body, you continued riding him. Through parted lids, you noticed that his thighs were starting to shake, signaling that he, too, was close. “Baby,” the boy called out, his fingers digging to the sides of your hips. Jungkook was both trying to guide your movements, and hold himself back to reality. It was a beautiful view — the way his expression lingered somewhere between delight and distress; his hips mindlessly trusting up against yours. “I think I’m gonna cum.” 

You breathed out through your nose, trying to ignore the pleasure that, now, was turning into sensitivity. It felt good, in a way, but you were more focused on his relief at that point. “It’s okay, Kookie,” you told him, “you can let go.”

He had been so polite the entire time, with his “please” and “thank you’s. So, of course, when you told him that it was okay for him to cum, he did just as you requested. 

Jungkook came with gasping breaths and a trembling, high-pitched moan, holding on to you as he thrusted his last sloppy advances towards your core. His hands, weak, fell on the bed besides him, clenching the sheets; eyelashes fluttering down as he dwelled on the afterglow of his pleasure. You could stay there forever, looking at the pink shade that colored his cheeks; the beautiful mess that his black hair had turned into; or the tears of relief that accumulated at the corner of his eyes. 

But everything has to end, even the most beautiful ones. 

His tongue came out to wet his lips, and his eyes, still hooded, met yours. Not even the biggest minds in the renaissance could’ve thought of an image so perfect, so ethereal. “You’re so amazing,” he praised. “That was… amazing.” 

You smiled and leaned in to place a soft kiss against his lips. His member slipped out of you at the action, and his arms curled around your waist, keeping you in place. “You did pretty well,” you mumbled as you lazily curled up against his chest. Jungkook’s body was a delicious source of heat, and you could really get used to that. “I see a bright future ahead of you.”

He hummed, caressing your hair. Jungkook could finally smell it without being creepy, so that was a big victory for him. “You did most of the work,” he said. 

“That’s not an issue.” You nuzzled his neck, pleasantly feeling as goosebumps spread throughout his body. Always so responsive. “I’ll let you take the lead next time, if that sounds good to you.”

Jungkook chuckled. “That’d be great, yeah,” he agreed. Part of him thought about using a few tricks he learned during his late-night research, but he wasn’t super sure that it would be a good idea. Maybe he should keep that card up his sleeve for a bit longer in case he needed to surprise you later. “Do you want to spend the night? It’s kind of late to go back to your place now.”

The words fell from his tongue with ease, surprising the boy for an instant. He noticed that he was much more comfortable in your presence, like the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. Not because of the sex itself, he realized, but because of the vulnerability and intimacy that came with it. It happened just as it was supposed to. 

 “I’d love to.” You smiled, and placed a kiss against his neck. “But I’m going to kick you out if you start snoring.” 

“Out of my own place?” He asked. 

You sighed, voice filled by traces of your upcoming slumber. “Don’t you test me,” you spoke, wrapping your arms around him. “Medical school is killing me, I need some sleep. And I will get it no matter the price.” 

Jungkook laughed at your tired words, one of his hands caressing your head in infinite delicacy. As he held to your body, curling so perfectly against his own, he knew that everything would be okay. And maybe he needed a good night of sleep too. 

A few minutes later, as he started to feel the sensation of his consciousness slowly drifting away to the land of dreams, a bittersweet sentiment overtook his chest. There was an instant, even if ephemeral, in which Jungkook believed he would never see Yoongi and Taehyung again — after all, the two had already concluded their mission: Jungkook got the girl and there was nothing else left for them to do. In between two consecutive breaths, he felt both relief and solitude. Silence wasn’t as welcoming once he realized no voice could break it. 

Though, his melodramatic moment was short-lived. Behind him, a known timbre cheered for him:

“I’m so proud, I feel like a soccer mom.”

[fangirlincorporate]

Thoughts while reading Ch 45

Of course. Always a simp for Bisha. That’s okay I am too Kazuma 👌 Bisha is my alter ego I tell you. Bad ass and ready to fight. In reality though I’m just a dork with a smart mouth.

Ohmygod Yato don’t tell Yukine that 😂 he’s such a bullshitter man. I love him though. From child to pervert (kinda) to bad ass in .2 seconds. Sounds about right when describing Yato. Any disagreements?

Good ole’ Hiyori being a sleuth. Now she gonna know it was Yato’s dad all along kissing her up on that “date” Yikes.

Imagine finding out your crushes dad not only took you on a date, but kissed you. Lord have mercy. I think I would die. I also would’ve sucker punched him right after that kiss though 🤷‍♀️ wonder what he would’ve done if sweet little Hiyori hit him with a Jungle Savate. I would’ve been rolling I kid you not. I can almost picture the look on his face. I’ll take that satisfaction with me as I read the rest of this.

Please tell me I’m not only who wishes she would’ve been able to do that. I request a drawing ✍️ I have money 🤗

I too must be a child because I laughed so hard I started choking and my boyfriend had to come save me. Deadass.

Also this isn’t going to solve the childlike curiosity Yato. Kids don’t let that shit go. They want to know everything I tell you.

I know this because I babysat this kid once and he ALWAYS had questions. He was twelve I think. Anyway my moms friend got mad at me because I was asked where babies come from and I said they get pushed out of ya know. (She did not like that) but he didn’t stop there like I thought. I expected him to be disgusted I was very wrong. He then wanted to know how it gets big enough. I was appalled. I told him to ask his mom.

Kids are wild. Side note his theory was that it inflates. He was not far off. Health class must have really been an eye opener.

Oh no no no. You better not have any bright ideas right now. Hiyori best get back to her body. I do not like this. Double nope.

Well for a second I thought he was going to try his possession thing on her, but I suppose possessing a little boy is somehow worse.

Yukine you get back home right now. My peaceful thoughts were short lived. Let the rest of this chapter be alright.

Fair question Hiyori however some things are better left unknown. Children don’t seem to understand this concept. Sigh.

When Yukine finds out because I’m sure he’s going to soon. I bet he’s gonna take it really hard. I’m not prepared.

Also I thought this was really cute. 🥺

Man I’ve seen, read, and even have written some pretty twisted and dark things but somehow looking at these kids with ears they cut off hanging above their heads has managed to make my skin crawl.

There’s just something about the slow corruption of children that really gets to me more so than anything else. 🤢

I’ve been excited to know more about Yato and learn his backstory for the better half of 6 years now, and it’s even more sad than I originally anticipated. Send help.

Ooo and Hiyori is along for the ride too. Nice. What a not so lovely trip down memory lane.

Ch 46 LETS GOOOOO

[parvulous-writings]

Nightmare // Liu Kang x reader

Request:     I was wondering if I could request a scenario of either Liu Kang or his s/o having a nightmare, maybe of the other dying. Along with the prompt “It’s okay… I couldn’t sleep anyway…”

Requested by: ​anon

Summary: Reader has a series of nightmares, and goes to Liu Kang for comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of death, fairly graphic descriptions of various forms of death. 

Words: 1.7K 

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

not my gif

Nights in Raiden’s Temple had always been peaceful, even in the most troubling of times. The blanket of darkness only truly fell in the early hours of the morning, when the torches finally fizzled out in their mounted sconces, with no one left awake to tend to them. The only light left to illuminate the hallways of the ancient structure was that of the moon and her many stars.  For you, tonight though, it was not a very peaceful night. It had started off as one, the same as any other. You had adhered to your schedule as you religiously did each evening- you washed your face, ridding your skin of the grime of the day, you folded your clothes to take them down to the washroom in the early morning, like you did every day with your fellow champions. You had nestled yourself into the sheets of your bed, curling up to rest, falling asleep quite quickly. You were not wrapped in tranquility forever, though. In the very early hours of the morning- perhaps two or three hours past midnight- you awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in your bed, a slick sheen of sweat adorning your skin. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you were short of breath, as if you had been training or sparring with other champions, rather than sleeping. You wiped your hands over your face in an attempt to calm yourself, as disturbing images flashed through your mind. They were burnt beneath your eyelids- scenes of Liu, scorched by his own flame, his flesh bubbling and blistering as he cried out in pain. His skin turned to char, and he collapsed, slumping over on his knees as his body finally caved in to the injuries he had sustained.

Then another- Liu engulfed by an emerald green light. It snaked around his limbs, bathing him in the eery glow of the streams of light as several strands shot down his throat, choking him, drawing the life from his lungs. You were forced to watch as he began to decay, the muscles beneath his skin wasting away, leaving him as nothing more than skin and bones- if you could even class it as that, as even from a distance his skin now seemed as thin, and as delicate as rice paper. He was not given a peaceful last breath in this vision, it was forcefully ripped from his lungs.  A third- a disagreement between himself and his cousin and closest friend Kung Lao. Ordinarily, the pair would either agree to disagree, or they would work out his differences, but it was not the case this time. The two were in the fight pit, lashing out furiously at one another. Liu was hailing down a rain of fire upon his closest of companions, whilst Kung Lao expertly slung his chakram hat back at the monk. Though Lao was suffering many, many burns, it was Liu who was taking the majority of the hits. There were gashes on his face, his gi was slashed open in several places, exposing his torso which was littered with bruises. After a particularly harsh throw from Lao, Liu stumbled, losing his footing for a moment. Kung Lao took this as an opportunity to take advantage of Liu’s weaknesses. He hurled his hat towards his cousin, the blade of the brim running through Liu’s shoulder, creating a fountain of blood. The fire wielding monk fell to one knee, choking on the fluid, and Kung Lao started to approach him, calling his hat back to his hand. The descendant of the Grand Champion of the Order of Light approached the Chosen One slowly, an almost smug smirk on his lips. He gave a quiet chuckle, but had chosen not to gloat, kicking Liu Kang on to his back, watching him squirm and struggle. Without wasting anymore time, Lao threw his hat into the sand above Liu’s head, using his arcana to make it spin like the blade of a buzzsaw. Grabbing his cousin’s arms, and dragging him along the ground, until he had been split in half, his blood and his organs spreading out and drenching the sand. 

You wanted, so badly, to look away from this monstrous sight, but you couldn’t. Your tried to close your eyes in this dreamworld, but it was of no use. It was this final segment of the dream that had caused you to wake up in your cold sweat. Your eyes darted around the dark confines of your room, trying to find something that could provide you with some sort of comfort. But beside your blanket, which felt more vaguely restrictive than anything, you had nothing.  Though perhaps, that wasn’t strictly true. There was something, or rather someone, that could comfort you. You shakily got to your feet, getting dressed in something that covered you a little bit more than the typical night wear, padding out into the dark hallway, heading down as quickly as you could muster, given the lack of light. Eventually you wound up at the door you desired, or at least you hoped so. You raised your hand to knock timidly on the door, trying to be quiet so as not to wake the others nearby, but loud enough to catch the attention of the dweller within those quarters. You wrapped your arms around yourself, waiting patiently. You didn’t have to wait long, as the wooden door creaked open slightly. Before you stood Liu Kang, his eyes just barely open from sleep, his hair tousled slightly from tossing and turning, as he told you he often did at night. He rubbed one eye with his hand, his prayer beads slowly sliding down his arm with the movement. He mumbled something inaudible, as he registered you standing just outside his doorway. He noticed your slightly disturbed expression, and became much more alert. “Are you alright?” Were his first words to you, and you gave him an almost sheepish look. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to spill out thanks to the elder gods for him being alive, but you restrained yourself. “I did not mean to wake you... I was more wondering if you were awake.” Your voice is soft, just above a whisper; the thought of him dying in your dreams underlying your every words, although he was unaware of it. You could tell he had only recently gotten to sleep, something he didn’t often get much of. The monk shook his head at these words.  “It’s quite alright… I couldn’t sleep anyway…” He offered you a brief smile. “You seem worried. What seems to be the matter?” He asked you, moving aside and beckoning for you to enter his room. You step inside, rubbing the back of your neck as he closes the door carefully behind you.  “I... Had a nightmare.”  “Oh?” Liu replies, moving to sit on his bed. “May I ask about the nightmare? It is alright if you do not wish to divulge what you dreamt.” He told you, “Though perhaps it will relieve some stress from your shoulders.” He encouraged, and you sighed gently. How were you to tell him this? Sure, it may not have been a reality, but it had felt so real. 

“I saw you dying.” You say it bluntly- why sugarcoat something that blatantly troubled you so? Liu is stunned to silence, just staring at you, unsure of what to say to comfort you. You decide to continue, hoping this will help him comfort you more effectively. “I saw it happen several times... You were burned, then you decayed, and...” Your eyes glaze over for a moment, and you swallow a lump that had formed in your throat. “And Kung Lao killed you.” This shocked Liu even more; what had provoked such vivid and horrific dream sequences? He didn’t know, and he thought that perhaps it would be better for him if he didn’t know, it may not have been his place. You didn’t come to him to have your problems solved, you came to be comforted. He remained quiet for a moment more, as his arm slipped around you, pulling you closer to his chest.  “It’s okay.” He soothes, moving you both so that you laid on his bed, facing up at the ceiling, “It was nothing more than a dream. It’s gone, now.” He told you. You glanced to him for a moment as you settled onto his chest a little more.  “But... It felt so real. Everything about it. The sounds... The sights... All of it. Even the way you fight- all of your inflections, and even Lao’s smirk. It was all there and-” Liu shushed you as you started to babble.  “It was a dream. I will not deny it has clearly had an impact on you, but I will remind you of the fact.” His voice was soft as he spoke, “And I will remind you that we are all safe here- from death at least. I will not get injured from flames, I can control them well enough to defend myself from them. Decay will certainly happen eventually, of course, but it is many years away I am sure.” He paused for a moment, letting you just process his words. “And as for my cousin... You know he will not let loose all of his skill on me.” He’s right, the relationship between Kung Lao and Liu Kang was a tight knit one, rife with humor and playful jabs, but at the same time a sincerity that they will both be there for one another. You nod slowly. He starts to gently trail his warm hand up your upper arm, soothing you a little more. 

Liu falls silent, and the pair of you just lay there on his bed for a while, his hand still carefully gliding over your skin. You start to feel drowsy, and your eyes weigh themselves shut as your body succumbs to the exhaustion your adrenaline had staved off. Liu didn’t move you, he just smiled down at your sleeping form, shuffling slightly to settle down himself. He finally finds sleep with you in his arms, finding the same sort of comfort in you that you had found in him. 

[coolbeansbuddyofmine]

⭐

@sunsoothed knows i love talking about my fic writing process <33333 (ty babey)

so let's talk about my beloved sherlock au. i could talk about this for ages and hours but i'll keep my words relatively limited because i'm aware of the paragraphs readers have to read in my notes because i ramble so much.

shall we begin then,

main storyarc - with 13 episodes; i had originally planned these many episodes because a) that's what the tv show has, and b) i love the number 13. now, dont get me wrong, im not a particularly religious or superstitious person at all and i certainly dont believe in numerology, but i think 13 is just very pretty and holds lots of connotations for me in my rl. (fun fact: my sister was born on a friday the 13th. is that why she's such a terror? /j)

chayoung began at the age of 25-26 ish, with vincenzo being canonically 4 years older (as the age different between sjk and jyb is irl), and so far we've gone through almost 6 years with them together as a crime-solving couple together eventually. she begins on a very difficult part of her life where her father's died recently, his law firm literally lies in ruins as the building as bulldozed for redevelopment and eventual class-based gentrification, and she's now in this new city with a new therapist. difficult, right? yeah, i think so too. a lot of her own mental health struggles are based on my own with tw (depression, anxiety, bipolar, and suicide ideation - all of which are things i've struggled with and continue to struggle with but it's getting better). chayoung in this is a very personal character to me, and while a lot of her personality and history certainly is adapted from canon, i've added my own personal nuances (mostly in regards to her motivations and mental health connecting it to what i know) based on what i felt original canon was lacking. she's struggling initially yes, and the cohabitation, support she gets from vincenzo aids that lack of slow burn, and she falls for him very fast (and him too) but then ofc as any other couple does, they have their own disagreements and fights. the important thing is that they do work through them. by chapter 12, without spoiling too much, she's in a much better place mentally but the abandonment issues are still invariably at work, and there's quite a lot of internalized trauma in both vincenzo and chayoung from their countless high-profile cases (i.e. jang hanseok who is moriarty equivalent)

now, we move on to vincenzo. like the original sherlock and even vincenzo occasionally in canon, he can be an asshole, a fancy prick, and a shithead. he knows that, she knows that, i know that, and i hope the readers can also discern that. in canon, while vincenzo was very sly, cunning (the classics student in me wants to compare him to athena favourite, the wily odysseus in fact and considering what happens in chapter 6, you can certainly argue that chayoung is his penelope- his ithaca), he used people for his/their/a certain benefit. he helped lots of people out, sure, but that doesn't detract from the fact he did use people and often times, there was a sly transaction. think of sherlock! vincenzo as like that but he begins with a distinctly low EQ, though he can certainly be manipulative when he feels like it. this is a retired mafia man, who's lazy and likes to spend his "retirement" solving crime cases. and yeah eventually this asshole does understand what it's like to directly really care for one's own family and he has a whole circle that he's very very protective about (obviously this includes chayoung).

for me, i really wanted to highlight the found family trope for both vincenzo and chayoung and that's why you have the eventual introduction of the geumga plaza tenants, luca, hanseo, paolo, mr. cho, mr. ahn and various other people that are recurring throughout the entire text. yes, they do have some family members by blood, but they have made their own family with people who are equivalent to their family of blood. blood of the covenant is stronger than the blood of one's own but not as direct.

now, i'll briefly explain the 3 other short parts i've written in addition to the main story. part 2 was a pwp smut - i wrote it at 3 am, nuff said. part 3 was because i found this old deleted scene i had written and i really liked it, but it was entirely filler and contributed nothing to the original plot when i wrote it but rather just added to the word count. so i had archived it, and tbh, it still wouldnt fit anywhere in the story but i quite liked it, so i published it. and then there were more plot ideas that ranged from fully written to partial written to simply prompts. tbh at this point ive run out, so if people want more they're gonna have to prompt me and i'll get to them eventually. part 4 falls under the same explanation as part 3, so i wont repeat it again.

now finally, the finale chapter 13 yeah, i've started writing it and i'll definitely be publishing this weekend. im quite sad about leaving this au which is over 300 pages for the main doc, and if we add the other parts it'll be like 350 pages ish. the point is it's long, and the whole universe is already over 100k. correct me if i'm wrong, but that's the longest chayenzo alternate universe storyline in the entire fandom - so yeah, im more than a little attached to it. but its bittersweet bc this means ill have more time to focus on my other wips (if you've made reading through it this far - i'll tell you i have a mulan au im half-way through and a secret au that'll be out eventually) and yeah i have to work on hogwarts and other stuff for other fandoms PLUS COLLEGE. so im quite a busy woman, and sherlock was this absolutely amazing journey i went on over this summer, and this au was wonderful to work on. i think a part of the sherlock! vcy will always live in me, and if, IF, we get series 5 of Sherlock, i promise i'll come back and write 3-4 chapters within that series. i will do it, no matter what.

thank you for reading through this!! i hope you enjoyed learning about my emotions and thoughts as i write sherlock! chayenzo :))) adieu

also brief shoutout to @toobadforthefacts @yasmini24 and @stateofdelicate who’ve been keeping up with this au and their comments nourish me

(gifs have been credited by tumblr - i used the gif search function :))

[imaginesmai]

Tom Holland - This two-seat couch

I don’t know how I did it but I managed to post twice in a week and stop being dead to Tumblr. Don’t misundertand this with me being a funtional human being, I’m a still a piece of GaRBaGe💕

Plot: college!Tom has some feelings for you, and you have some feelings for you. Maybe, ‘some’ isn’t the way to describe it, more like ‘madly in love with my best friend’. Thank God though for those two-seat couch where knees brush.

Tom was no stranger to see the hours pass by in the clock at night. Whether it was because he had an important test he couldn’t understand or a party that ended when the sun came up, he was used to staying up to ungodly times at night. He already knew what every channel emitted when the moon appeared, and what were the few things that were worthy to see. What surprised him, though, was that you were still fighting to keep your eyes open for a little longer. He knew you too well, and you usually knocked out when the clock stroke twelve at the latest.

Always good on tests and getting up early rather than staying late, you were the good example he didn’t follow. Tom went to parties while you watched your favourite show before falling asleep, and you memorized things with just reading them once while he spent hours with no results. Still, years of college and friendship, of weird conversations between two polar opposites had brought you to that place together.

You were crammed onto Tom’s tiny two-seat couch, limbs tangled in positions that shouldn’t have been comfortable. Tom was side awake, hyper aware of every point where your bodies touch, but he was slack against the back of the couch, arm resting on the leg you had thrown over his pal. You’re leaning on the arm of the couch, other foot planted on the floor between his. Both of you watching TV, thinking about different things.

Still, you were paying far more attention to the show than Tom was, even if he proposed it. It was a terrible movie, but he knew you liked to laugh with them. As if you could read him, you cracked up laughing, and the sound brought a smile to the football player’s face.

“It’s the worst film I’ve ever seen for sure” your eyes shone with the TV lights. “You’re outstanding yourself lately”

“I’m trying my best to satisfy your horrific love for this movies, considering you’ve seen most of them already” Tom bit back, comfortable and, at the same time, on cloud nine. “Besides, it seems I finally found the perfect way of keeping you from falling asleep in the middle of our movie night”

“I don’t always fall asleep”

“Tell that to the permanent drool stain on my couch”

It didn’t matter if you laughed and punched his shoulder friendly, he knew you would be dropping soon. The movie night was a tradition already he didn’t even want to miss; every Sunday, when your parents dropped you off in the dorms, Tom would pick you up and you would spend the night with him, watching a crappy film. Then, next morning he would take you to your class. As he had his own apartment, you had more space there than in your small room.

Since you had met two years ago – first day of collage by getting paired up in a weird meeting game – you had formed a weird relationship that no one could really understand. To most, you weren’t the prettiest girl in the campus. To Tom, you were the best.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Tom was so immersed in his own head that he hardly registered your yawning. Another leg was thrown on his lap, and you moved so that you could rest your head on his shoulder. Tom gave the clock another glance, knowing you were minutes away from falling asleep. And damn if it wasn’t his favourite part of the day, watching you sleep against his shoulder.

“So that you don’t complain about the drool stain on your couch” you said, trying to keep your eyes open. Your hot breath hit Tom’s neck like a thousand needles, making him shiver. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m fine, but you can go to sleep” he assured you, lowering the TV volume. He brought you closer to him with his left arm, until you were nested against him. “Your bedtime was like five hours ago, darling”

“I don’t fall asleep that early” you scoffed, making yourself comfortable against him. “It’s you who fall asleep too late. That’s gonna bite you in the ass when you’re older”

From any other person, he would have taken it as an insult. While most of the people thought he spent the nights awake playing games or drinking, the majority of nights were spend trying to understand what the books he was studying were saying. Tom wasn’t ashamed of his dyslexia, but accepting it didn’t make it any easier. His roommates and friends tried not to talk about how Tom spent nights awake studying, or how most of his breakdowns involved not understanding what he had to study.

He was used to people ignoring he had dyslexia, so he had tried to ignore it too; until you found him one night in the library with misty eyes and head in hands, and you had helped him. Together, you discovered that he just needed someone to explain or read the things to him, and Tom had a boost on his grades.

So he just tickled your side at the comment, enjoying the soft whine that left your lips.

“You should go to bed” Tom smiled, ignoring completely the screams of the movie. “Tomorrow you’re gonna be complaining about neck ache”

“That’s just an excuse to have you massaging my shoulders”

“That’s what I am now? A massager prostitute?”

“You’re not that good, don’t get your hopes up” you said with your eyes closed. “But I have to agree with the second part”

“What – you think I’m a prostitute?”

“Well, kind of?” you opened one eye to look at him. “Come on, Tommy. You have slept with half of the girls in my dorm. Probably I’m the only one who hasn’t slept with you, actually”

That was the worst part about Tom’s college life. He was the football team’s captain, he lived with his best mate Harrison and could get the privilege to hold you while you two sat on the couch and you fell asleep on him. Then, as you walked out of your own paradise of Tom’s two pieces couch, you went to the mattress Tom had taken out for you and you slept besides him, on the floor. To him, it was the moment his little moment of happiness broke.

He could pretend all he wanted when you two sat together, watched a bad film and teased each other like friends did. But he wanted so desperately for it to be true; and it had a simple solution, telling you what he felt like and embracing his feelings like the man he was.

“I haven’t slept with everyone” he answered instead. “Your roommate – what was her name? Clare? Betty?”

“Lydia”

“Yeah, I haven’t slept with her” he swallowed down his annoyance. “And I can’t believe you think like that, you of all people! After inviting you to my own house to have a sleepover and let you eat pineapple pizza on my couch”

“God, don’t call it a sleepover like we’re teenage girls painting our nails with purpurin” you said laughing.

Tom really wanted to let it go, because he knew you hadn’t said it with bad intentions. The same way he teased you for going to bed early and reading too much, you could tease him for his way of living. It wasn’t as if it was a lie; he had slept with a few girls, he didn’t count, and he knew he was well liked among the dorms. If it had been any of his friends telling him that, he would have shoved them out of his way playfully and the problem had been solved.

But that you said it made him mad, because he didn’t want that image of himself for you. He wanted something better, something that, on his worst insecure nights, he thought he couldn’t achieve.

“And what’s wrong if I want to paint my nails? Will you stereotype me too for it, like you’re doing for sleeping with some girls?”

“Do you want to paint your nails?” you moved away from Tom, sleep slowly disappearing. “It was just a joke, if you want to paint your nails that’s fine. I can teach you”

“This is not about the nails!”

“Then what’s it about? Actually, what’s this?” you moved back to the other place in the couch, frowning at him.

“You telling me that I’m a prostitute?”

Since the moment you met Tom in that get to know each other activity, there hadn’t been any argument or disagreement. You were both total opposites, but you liked to think that way you compenetrated each other. Tom helped you to be more open and friendly, and was always there for you when your little dorm became too tiny. And when he had an test, he didn’t have to panic anymore because he wasn’t alone.

You weren’t even sure if it was an argument. You just knew that Tom was getting mad for something you had said and you didn’t know how to fix it. And if you were annoyed because you had had to move from your favourite place because of it, you didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t mean it, it was a joke”

“Yeah, it wasn’t” he scoffed. “It’s like – I can’t joke about you not going out or being a nerd, but you can joke about me being a prostitute?”

“I didn’t mean it, Tom!” you argued, louder than him. “Besides, it’s a lie? You’ve been with almost every girl I know”

“Could you stop repeating it?”

“Why, does the truth bother you?” the thought of him not denying it anymore led to you thinking about him with girls, and pretty girls with him, and you just being his friend. “Then stop doing it”

“Oh, of course!” he chuckled sarcastically. “I’ll stop just because you say so, because Y/N asked me to stay fucking virgin like her!”

Tom’s face was hit with the cushion so hard that his nose throbbed, at the same time someone in the movie died. A little ‘off’ left him as he threw the cushion away, rubbing the sore spot. That you were a virgin wasn’t something you shared with everyone, only with a few – and with Tom, after explaining that you weren’t comfortable hearing about what he did with some girls when he went out. It was low, and probably Tom shouldn’t have said it, but there was no turning back and now you were fully on your first argument as friends.

Friends, that should be more than that. Everyone saw how Tom was trailing behind you like a lost puppy when you walked through the corridors, and how you made time out of nothing to help him with his assignments. You were always the first one in the rows for his games, even if you hated loud places and crowds, and he always tried to keep up with the things you liked so he could make you happy. You were too blind to see it, the same way you were too blind to see you were arguing over a different feeling.

The two seat couch felt much longer now that Tom and you were angry, and your legs didn’t brush anymore.

“You’re an asshole”

“And a prostitute, it seems” Tom mumbled. “Something else you want to tell me?”

“It was a joke, Tom! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to hurt you – but yeah, you sleep with a lot of girls, I was stating that. Why do you have to be like this?”

“Be like what?”

“Ugh, a prick! You’re acting like the rest of college-players-boys”

“Oh my – yeah, of course Y/N! The queen of stereotypes! Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Fuck you, Tom. But – that’s probably offensive too, right?”

Tom didn’t answer, just went back to looking at the TV. Neither of you meant what you were saying, and truth was, it didn’t have any sense. He was mad because it had been months since he had been with a girl, because he preferred to spend his nights with you, texting or watching a bad film. He was angry because he hated the reminder of you just being friends, since it only made him think about how you could never be with a boy like him. You got outstanding in your tests, he barely passed if you didn’t help him. You were soft, nice and caring, and he was just an idiot.

You were mad because Tom had slept with girls that were you, and even if you got to hug in him the two seats couch on Sunday’s night, you didn’t wake up by his side in the morning. You were angry because he just couldn’t see how much you loved him and how much it hurt you to be just his friend for two years. He celebrated games, parties and small gatherings, and you barely celebrated your birthday anymore. He was popular, gorgeous and had a million dollars smile, and you were what the football team would call just an average girl.

It was silent for a while, all track of sleep having gone away. You pretended to look at the movie from different ends of the couch, pretended not wanting to go back to each other. Another ten minutes ran by and the clock hit one thirty in the morning. The next day, you would have to wake up soon to go to class, physically fighting Tom into going with you and not missing the first period. Part of your anger flew away when you thought about him waking up early just to take you to class even if he didn’t have to.

Eventually, you relaxed in your part of the two seats couch and you gave Tom a side glance; who was already looking at you. When you faced him, he talked.

“I’m sorry” he croaked out. “I didn’t mean any of that – I just… I’m sorry”

“I don’t think you’re a prostitute” you admitted, and Tom cracked into a smile. “Sorry, too. I don’t have any right to –“

“I really like you” he blurted out, before he could chicken out; already happening. “Like, really, really like you. More than a friend. And I’m sorry that I slept with so many girls, but I’m not longer that person. Because now I-I like you a lot, and I just want to be with you. So, yeah. I really like you”

When your mother told you that you had to go to bed early because nothing good could happen after midnight, you didn’t think she was talking about hallucinations. It took you a while to realize that Tom had really said that he really liked you. You had imagined something like ‘yeah, you didn’t have the right to call me that so go back to your room and we’ll talk in the morning’. If only you had known, you would have stayed past midnight the first time you met him.

“It’s okay if you don’t… like me back” Tom turned around and looked at the film, although you could see the glassy reflection of the lights on his eyes. “Just, thought you should know”

“No, I – just, I didn’t think you could like me” you too went back to looking at the TV, to make your own contribution to make the night even weirder. “I just, you know. You’re you, and I’m… me”

“I have the feeling that you’re not talking about you being a wonderful and brilliant person and me being kind of dumb, as I was thinking about” Tom muttered. “But that’s the only true that I know”

“You’re not dumb” you said. As if your body could move on it’s own, you were no longer on your end of the couch, but your ass was in the middle of the two seats. “You’re – you. And I really like you”

“We’re sounding like teenagers in a sleepover right now”

Tom had moved too, and you were again in your original positions; ignoring the free space in the small couch in favour of sitting together in the middle of it. Someone else died on the movie. It was, indeed, the worst one you had ever seen; about a group of friend who go into a trip to the mountains and find some killer sheep, that when kill someone they turn into another sheep. It was so, so ridiculous that you didn’t mind missing the ending for Tom.

His hand, that was big enough to cover your face, pulled you closer. He moved his face and your noses didn’t touch. You didn’t want to close your eyes, didn’t want to let the anxiety of giving your first kiss and doing it wrong. But it was Tom – who had a lucky pair of underwear, wore sock over his sweaters and had a blue teddy from his family that always slept with him.

You let him pull you closer as the last scream tow through the screen, making the moment even better. It was nothing like what you had imagined, and at the same time, it was. Tom was careful, not pushing you, just pressing his lips against yours and letting them dance on their own. His lips trapped your bottom one without any force, and he moved away after the shortest seconds of your life.

When you opened your eyes, the world wasn’t brighter and you didn’t feel any prettier than before; the only thing you felt was happy, and liked. And they were the best feelings you had ever felt.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want” Tom tried to assure you, his hand still on your cheeks and his breath on your lips. “We don’t – if you want your time, we can still be friends. I’ll wait, and –“

You moved once more to kiss him, that time crossing the line of the two seat couch of Tom’s apartment. His chuckle was swallowed as the credits rolled down the screen, and he finally grabbed and dragged you to his lap, where you were finally comfortable. Instead of going to your own mattress or sleeping in Tom’s bed, you fell asleep right there, in his two seat couch and wrapped around him.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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[darthlorddiamond]

Just a Mistake

Request: Could you do one for Hux were his really into the this girl who's bigger, and she kinda plays hard to get, and something happens that makes her confidence go down, and he tries to help build it up for her? Maybe like a first kiss, or something? No rush, of course. I mean, if your not comfortable writing that, that's fine too. ❤️❤️❤️ for @loveroffandoms16

Words: 2,703

Reading Time: 11 min

Category: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: None

Check my Masterlist for more.

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Just a Mistake

We have known each other for quite some time, although at that time we were just two young students who didn´t know very well what they were doing.

The first time I saw Armitage was at our generation's presentation on day one at the Academy. He was a very quiet and quite serious boy, who found it difficult to have friends. For my part, I was always a person with a very good gift of speech, and many people used to approach me to ask me about the studies or to know my opinion regarding certain topics that we would discuss later in class. It could be said that both, he and I were opposite, however, for some strange reason that I still cannot understand very well, we struck up a rather strange friendship that grew over the years.

Due to my physical complexion, somewhat short in stature, and a little bit curvy, my superiors decided that my work couldn´t develop well on the battlefield, so they dedicated themselves to training me in areas related to the development of military strategies. The truth is that, at first, I was quite in disagreement with the tasks that were being assigned to me, but as the months went by I began to find it quite attractive, while Hux, at being Captain Brendol's son, our teachers had in him very high expectations of leadership and Armitage focused exclusively on demonstrating that he was capable of achieving anything that was put in front him.

During the final year of the Academy, Armitage and I became quite distant, each one focused entirely on getting the positions that each wanted and our friendship was greatly diminished along the way. I must admit, that during our first years at the Academy, Armitage was a kind of platonic love to me, however, I never said anything because I didn't think someone like me would be attractive to someone like him.

After our graduation, we were assigned positions within the First Order in different locations. Armitage began the development of a military base that would outshine the others and I was assigned the Special Strategies Command Center within the Supremacy. The years passed, I never heard from Armitage other than those regarding the advances of the Star Killer Base, so little by little I put aside those nostalgic feelings of the Academy and immersed myself deeply in my work until the day of the conclusion of the Star Killer Base came. All the High Command of the First Order were called to inhabit that cold planet, which would serve as a central military base.

The reception upon our arrival was quite formal, the troops introduced themselves, greeted, we toured the entire base, a small reception was organized inside the Command Bridge, where a few glasses of alcohol and laughter were present, and it was there, in the midst of all the multitude of generals, captains and lieutenants, that I saw him again. He was standing, with his hands behind his back, his impeccable uniform, and his gaze dancing on each of the attendees without saying anything at all.

I felt a hollowness in my stomach, without a doubt the years had been quite good for him. For a moment I stopped paying attention to the talk of the people around me and I fixed my gaze on him, I wanted to speak to him, but I didn't know-how. I could feel a knot in my stomach getting bigger and bigger, so I decided that it would be best to get closer to him to see if he still remembered me in the first place. I was very anxious, the closer I was to him, the more I regretted having made that decision, but my pride would not let me take a step back, I had to.

Once in front of him, I could see how he only lowered his eyes to saw me, and without saying anything, a small smile was painted on my lips, which was replicated in his mouth. After that night, everything in my life changed.

I applied for my permanent transfer from the Supremacy to the Star Killer Base, became a member of the council table, and began to work side by side with Armitage on everything I did: requesting troop training reports, organizing missions and follow up on all matters related to the Resistance. Also, our friendship was recovering, some nights, Armitage would sneak out to my quarters to share a glass of wine and a cigarette, while we remembered, with laughter, our years as cadets.

I must admit that working at the Star Killer Base isn´t an easy thing, the demands of time and responses were much greater than what I was used to, above all, any type of work or communication that was related to Commander Ren was a very tired, especially for Armitage, who after being in some meeting with him ended up exhausted.

As the months went by, our relationship became more and more intimate, we could find comfort in our presence and the truth is that perhaps we only trusted each other. At first, I thought it was my mind playing a joke on me and that the romance I felt for Armitage in our school years was only flourishing again because my imagination, but I could swear that sometimes he had details with me that gradually became closer. I tried to ignore his stares on the Command Bridge, his attempts to hold my hand when we were alone, and even avoided him a couple of times when I felt his face was too close to mine. Part of me wanted to believe that maybe something was happening between us, but another part of my mind swore it was just my mind.

One afternoon, Armitage came into my office with a bunch of papers in hand, which he slowly deposited on my desk. "I have a mission and I would like you to carry it out..." I turned to saw him "A droid, model BB8, is found somewhere on the surface of Takodana..." Armitage began to smoke while I took the papers that he had put on my desk and began to read it "It´s crucial to find and recover it, since it has valuable information on the Resistance” Armitage continued smoking while I continued reviewing the documents “How long do we have to locate it?” I asked him looking askance over the papers "Immediately" at that moment I understood that this mission was linked to the assault of Takodana and Commander Ren, "Perfect, give me a couple of hours to prepare the action plan, as soon as I have it I´ll give it to Captain Phasma so she can prepare the troops" Armitage nodded and got up from his place heading to the door "One more thing..." he turned to look at me "After handing the plan to Captain Phasma..." a beautiful little smile was painted on his lips "Would you like to come to my quarters for dinner?" I let out a small laugh "I don't know, I'm not so sure..." I said with a slightly doubtful tone "Come on, don't be so difficult!" was the last thing he said before leaving my office.

The next morning the mission began in Takodana, the troops had deployed in the way I had organized them. Relatively it had to be a short and simple mission, how difficult could it be to find a droid?

Big mistake, I should never have made so many assumptions.

"It doesn't surprise me in the least that the mission failed..." General Pride got up from his seat in the meeting room and began to walk around the table, I could feel my throat dry and one of my legs began to move without I could control it, Pride's gaze was cold and it was still fixed on me as he continued his tour of the room, I knew what was coming, there was nothing I could do about it.

Slowly Pride came up behind me and held the back of my chair with both hands. "What surprises me, is the fact that we were trusting that someone like you could carry out such a task..." my hands were sweating and I felt a huge hollow in my stomach due to anxiety "What do you mean by someone like me General?" was the only thing I could say, the atmosphere felt tense, I could feel how the gazes of all those present in the room were on me, including Armitage's.

Pride cleared his throat and walked around the room again to position himself in front of me on the other side of the table. "I mean it's obvious that someone like you..." he raised one of his hands to point to my whole body, it was clear what he tried to insinuate "Someone with your physique..." I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes, but I tried to contain it as best as possible, I wasn´t going to give him the pleasure of humiliating me in that way "Well Captain, someone with your body build has never been in the ground, that's why it's not surprising that the mission failed..." a mocking smile spread across his face as I just clenched my fists under the table "Someone like you only knows what it´s, in theory, a search mission, but you don't know the physical effort involved…” Pride put his hands behind his back.

I felt humiliated, ashamed and somewhat outraged, no one said anything, my stomach ached with rage, with impotence, I felt so much anger that a tear escaped my eyes, Pride was only looking at me from the corner of his eye, savoring every moment "You can retire Captain, it's time for the true men of combat to talk about how to solve your error” I didn´t wait a single second more, I immediately got up from my place and left that room.

I didn't know what to do, I didn't know where to go. To my office? No, I needed to be alone, so, even though my workday was not over yet, I immediately went to my quarters, once the door was closed, I burst into tears - Someone like me... -  I couldn't stop listening to the words of Pride in my head. I felt dirty so I got undressed right away and walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

The water in the shower helped me a little to dull the sound of my sobs. I´m so stupid! How could I think someone like me could perform a task like that!? I failed, not just to the First Order and Commander Ren, but Armitage, who was the first to trust me to do this task. I didn't know what to do, I was completely heartbroken. How is it that someone like me had gotten to where I was; how is it that the troops could trust someone like me; how is it that someone... How is it that Armitage... How could he look at someone like me?

Several weeks have passed since that terrible meeting. The only way I found to feel a little better and alleviate my supposed "incompetence" was to isolate myself from everything and focus exclusively on my work, I spent days and nights locked in my office without paying attention to anyone. My self-esteem was shattered, so I unconsciously started eating less and showing up late at night in the training room, away from the eyes of others, away from their criticism, their comments on my appearance.

As the days went by with my self-destructive routine, my body began to feel the consequences, I felt more tired than normal due to the demands of work and training that I was carrying out, I could see that big dark circles had begun to mark under my eyes and the usual rosy color on my cheeks was gone. On several occasions I had run into Armitage in the corridors of the base, however, I had completely ignored him, I didn´t dare to face him, I felt quite ashamed for having failed him in the mission, but I felt a thousand times worse for having thought that something existed between the two of us.

One of the many nights that I was in my office the door opened. In silence, but with a sure step, Armitage approached my desk and remained standing there for a couple of minutes, it was obvious that he was waiting for me to say something, ask something or do something, but I couldn't, I was completely frozen, I felt too nervous to say anything, I felt embarrassed enough to even see him.

"This is enough..." he said, almost like a whisper "You have been locked in this office for weeks without eating or sleeping well..." my gaze was fixed on the desk, while he advanced around it until he reached where I was sitting, I was feeling very nervous, what could I say to him? "You've been avoiding me for weeks..." I immediately turned to see him, my mind had made up an idea where we would eventually have to talk, but I always thought that when that moment would come he would complain about the failed mission, not about us "Armitage, I'm so sorry..." a couple of tears escaped my eyes "I never thought that Takodana's mission was to..." his body leaned quickly over mine, his hands gripped the armrests of my seat and his lips landed on mine.

The force of his kiss was so explosive that I couldn´t do anything to avoid it, his lips were so soft and his movements showed a kind of domination over me. I completely lost myself in the moment, the only thing I wanted at that instant never end "I don't give a damn about Takodana..." he whispered on my lips before kissing me again. He raised one of his hands to hold my the back of my neck and deepen the kiss, a fact that made me moan a little giving him access to my mouth, which he began to explore with his tongue. After a couple of minutes, we both left to get some air.

His face had drawn a blush almost the color of his hair, his eyes were still fixed on mine, while the hand that held my neck began to gently caress my cheek "Armitage, I never thought..." I stammered a little, I wasn´t sure it had happened that it just occurred "How is it that someone like you could fixate on someone like me..." I lowered my gaze to the ground, Pride's words were still present in my head.

Armitage brought his hand to my chin to lift my face, a couple more tears were present, he slowly approached me "I don't..." he kissed my lips "care anything..." he kissed one of my cheeks "about what..." he kisses my forehead "the others say..." he kissed my lips again, prolonging his touch a little more than normal. Recharging his forehead with mine, a smile played on my lips as I felt the warmth of his breath brushing my face and flooding my chest with a feeling of excitement and happiness like never before.

I jumped up from my seat and pounced on him, our bodies were completely united while his arms surrounded me and mine clung to his neck. I buried my face in his chest and Armitage covered the top of my head with kisses, we stayed like that for a few minutes until he broke that comfortable silence "How about we continue this in a more comfortable place..." I raised my face to look at him "We could go to my quarters, if that's okay with you" I drew a smile on my lips and moved my body a little away from his, without breaking our embrace, raising an eyebrow and with a slightly playful tone I replied, "I don't know, I'm not so sure ..." Armitage gave a small laugh and came closer to kiss me again "You really like to play hard" he whispered on my lips as I could feel a smile on his face.