#i hate unresolved comfort but inspiration just ran off you know

[smuggsy]

Hey, Leti! I saw you wanted some flyboys prompts. I'll give you two so you can pick between them if you want? How about for Words: “I’ll always be here when you need me,” or for Actions: "for one muse to help the other clean blood off of themselves." <3

You really hit the nail with the second one, it's like you're inside my mind asksjsisnsk but really, this idea wouldn't leave me alone today. I said over on discord I wanted conflict...

Collins breaks about sixteen weeks into his service. It's the first time he loses his nerve, regrettably, because he lets his new wingmate buy him one too many drinks. He's just trying to make a good impression, Jack knows, but he doesn't care for it. Not when Tony got shot down only yesterday and he's been grounded on account of it.

So he can mourn.

Fuck that.

He's only thinking about it more, now that he doesn't have to fly and the day seems never-ending. He lets the new cadet take him out for drinks only because Farrier isn't around.

There's a Royal Artillery regiment off duty occupying half the tables, and Collins almost turns on his heels and heads back to base when he sees their soft-brown uniforms all over the place. But Robert goes on, none the wiser, and Collins has no choice but to follow suit being the older, more experienced one and all.

In the end, it's the rookie who keeps his cool against the harsh words and teasing and Collins the one being held back.

"Oi, pretty boy!"

It's late and he's tired and Robert has money to spare and he keeps leaving pints in front him. 

"Yeah, you in blue, why doncha buy us a round?"

"You gotta be joking!" Robert laughs, half-turning on his seat next to Jack at the bar, wearing his pristine new uniform that looks like was unboxed just this afternoon. He's a perfect target for worn-out soldiers temporarily off the line. Collins is already drunk and their presence at his back set his teeth on edge.

"Why? Your lot sit there all day long while we do your bloody job, seems right t'me you'd show a bit of gratitude, right boys?!"

Jack sets another glass softly on the counter and locks eyes with the bartender that looks at him like he's the one stirring up the pot. It's the only reason why he turns his head towards his chatty companion and mutters: "leave it," because the old man is kind enough to accommodate them every time they come round and lets them run a tab.

Robert scans his unfriendly frown and slowly sits back down on the stool, sending Jack a furtive glance.

That would've been the end of it.

"Look at that, not even me mum's got boots as shiny as yours," this voice is closer, and it's a different one.

"Fuck off," Collins mutters under his breath, hand wrapped around his half-empty pint and itching to turn around and bash the idiot's head in.

"What?"

Now he gives him the courtesy of turning around and standing up to say it to his face.

"I said fuck off, I see yer bleedin' deaf as well as thick."

He likes to think it wasn't his words that set it in motion, but the little chuckle Robert couldn't suppress right next to him. 

What's-his-name, with his perfectly gelled-up hair and an unbuttoned khaki shirt, sends the new cadet a killer look and Collins wishes he'd gone for it, right there. He wishes he'd gone for his mate so he would've been able to blame his actions on the undying stupid rivalry between Army and Air Force. But he doesn't make a move towards Robert, and instead gives Jack a once-over and a sneer.

"Why don't you sit back down?" he offers, with a mellowy voice that makes Collins' blood boil, "you look like you're about to fall."

To his credit, Jack is swaying on his feet, except that's also the same reason why the cocky gunner ends up with a bleeding nose just two minutes after.

"That's what you get paid for, after all!" is the last straw, a high-pitched mocking voice coming from the sea of men that Collins can't really pinpoint, "t'keep your sorry ass down on a chair."

What comes next is more missed blows on Collins' part than he'd like to admit and more blood on his face and collar than he'd like to explain. Robert comes out unscathed save for a crinkled uniform when some by-stander had the sense to keep him out of the ruckus, but he doesn't stop babbling all the way back to headquarters.

Collins only hears half of it, mind too foggy by an ache both physical and emotional, and bites his tongue one or two times when he turns to acknowledge the boy's existence and sees the face of his dead wingmate instead.

Farrier finds him two hours later, lying on his upper bunk bed in full uniform except for his jacket, which he briefly had the sense to hang before climbing up. Collins hears him come in, close the door and approach, but doesn't move.

He stares at the wall and breathes slowly through the mind-nulling pain taking over, feeling a sore cheek and a lip cut open and thinking that he deserves it, that it grounds him, that it keeps the thought of Tony's silence through the intercom and the sight of his Spitfire hitting the water with a distant thud away.

Was he dead by then? Did he die in the air, or was he conscious all the way down, unable to do anything to stop it? Collins hopes one of those bullets got to him. He knows that's how he'd rather go down if it came to it. When it comes to it.

"What happened?" 

Collins stays still and pretends he's not there. 

It's not very difficult to imagine, really, because Farrier is never around lately. It's probable that the only thing that brought him up to his room at this hour was Robert's big mouth, surely going on about his new mentor standing up to a room full of soldiers, drunk and out for blood like a fucking lunatic.

Perhaps a little less self-deprecating account of it. More on the heroic side, because Robert's got that naive look about him. Collins hates to think of it: that it is probably a foreshadowing image of what's to happen once he goes up in the air and has a fucking nazi on his tail.

"Collins," Farrier calls again with a quiet voice. Jack feels one of his hands coming to rest behind him on the mattress, like he wants to place it on his waist instead and turn him over but doesn't dare, "you can talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

More silence.

A sigh.

"Don't ya have somewhere else to be, anyway?"

He feels like a dick the moment he says it.

Luckily for him, Farrier isn't so easily swayed. That same hand finally lands on his left shoulder and tugs insistently until he's turning on his back - when he does, Farrier takes a deep breath in, those ones he takes when he wants to lash out at someone but swallows his words instead. 

Collins isn't sure he likes that look of anger directed at him, but he stares back defiantly because the influence of alcohol isn't completely gone and because he hates Farrier being this persistent.

Green eyes survey every inch of his battered face and if they stop for a moment too long on his lips, Collins pretends he doesn't notice. Farrier winces and then runs a hand over his face and looks away, again biting his tongue to prevent himself from talking. 

Jack wants him to talk, wants him to tell him off so he can answer. 

"Come down," Farrier asks, taking a step back from the bed and making a hand-gesture that is a bit too authoritarian for Jack's taste. He half-wants to hop off the bed, stand to attention, make a salute and bark out a yes, sir! only to annoy him, "Collins, don't be a child. Come down and get that shirt off before it's unsalvageable."

His irritation bleeds heavily through the words this time and when Collins looks back at him from the top bunk, he does feel like a little boy being told off. 

He only sits up, yanks his tie off, takes his shirt off above his head without unbuttoning it and knowing full well he's only beating up a hornet's nest, makes it into a ball and throws it at Farrier's face with force.

Only then does he jump off and land in front of him.

"Anything else?" he asks through gritted teeth, as Farrier holds the shirt to his chest and looks at him the same way he looked at that gunner back at the pub.

But he stays silent. Farrier doesn't take a step forward and punches him in the face like he did to that poor sod. The annoyance gives place to something else and Collins doesn't know what to do when Farrier doesn't move, because he'd been counting on him turning around and striding off after that outburst. 

And he needs him to, quick, because there's a lump forming down his throat.

"No?" he asks, shaking his head, confrontational.

Farrier just stares at him, his poker face the antithesis of Jack's. He only sniffs, crosses his arms on his chest and shifts his weight on his feet comfortably, like he's planning on just staying there standing guard.

Collins feels like he walked right into his trap. Can't climb back up now, show him his back and stare at the wall and ignore him until he gives up and leaves.

"Are you done?" Farrier asks when he looks away. 

He doesn't give an answer and sits on his roommate's made-up bed instead because he can't feel the chilly air down there as much. 

He probably should wash that shirt before the crimson red becomes a permanent stain, if only to avoid being told off by his superiors. He really doesn't find it in him to care for a stupid blood-spluttered collar when Tony's dead, he's dead.

Farrier sits next to him and brings a damp cloth to his lip without warning. Jack flinches away before he notices it's only his handkerchief soaked in water and has the decency to turn towards him this time, the will to put up a fight all but gone.

"I'm sorry..." he starts, trying to get the words out but failing.

"It's alright."

"No," he chokes out, "sorry."

Farrier presses the wet cloth softly above the cut on his brow and looks him in the eye with honesty.

"No need to be."

Collins disagrees, but he stays still for a couple of seconds and lets Farrier slowly wipe the dried blood off his skin with the utmost care and tries to think only of this moment.

"That's a nasty bruise," Farrier says, conversationally as if the silence makes him uncomfortable and the close space between them makes him nervous.

Jack doesn't trust himself to open his mouth without bursting out crying in his face, so he doesn't say anything and just avoids his gaze again.

The silence stretches on for another minute.

"All done."

He bolts upright soon as Farrier is off his personal space and makes for the metal wardrobe in the corner to fish for a tank top, because it's that time of day when the sun is completely gone and he may as well have an early night in.

Anything to get Thomas off his hair.

"Thanks," he throws over his shoulder, tugging at his belt hoping that's enough of a dismissal for Farrier, "I'll wash that shirt," he adds, noncommittally.

Farrier stays there for another quarter of a minute.

"Yeah, you do that."

When the door closes behind him Collins braces himself against the wardrobe and holds onto it until his knuckles go white, feeling like he can't take enough air in.

[jkgrl]

Say You Wont Let Go

Jungkook x Reader // oneshot // 5k words

Summary: Jungkook just wanted to have one night where he didn't think about you, but unfortunately for him that can never happen.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mentions of alcohol and vomiting

A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG!! I feel so bad but ive spent a long ass time on this so I hope you like this oneshot!!! Its inspired by the song say you wont let go by James Arthur I literally love that song so much. enjoy!

 Jungkook was hellbent on not going to the club that night. He really was. After an extremely long, and tiring concert all he wanted to do was crash in the dorms, and play Mario Kart with the rest of his band mates while consuming a copious amount of junk food. Unfortunately for him, his hyungs were all riding their post concert high and wanted to finish the night with shots and girls.

After getting back to the dorm Jungkook dove straight for his room, avoided the pestering comments from his friends about how he ‘needed to get out more.’ And ‘it wasn't healthy to drink straight from the two liter pop bottle.’ Yeah, okay as if that were true.

Once Jungkook was in his room he body slammed onto his bed. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the many messages, subconsciously telling himself he wasn't hoping for one certain message from one certain person.

He was cut off by a repeated rapping sound from the door. Jungkook buries his head into his pillow and groans. Why couldn't everyone leave him in his depressed state alone?

“Let! Me! In! Kookie!” Shouts a deep voice with fervent purpose.

“Yah, Taehyung I just want to be alone right now.”  He grumbles while trudging his way to the door unlocking it and peering at the tall boy with sad puppy eyes in front of him.

He jutted out his bottom lip in his signature pout, and that was enough for Jungkook to let him in. Sad Taehyung never failed to make Jungkook into a big puddle.

“Come to the club tonight with me? It'll be fun yeah?” He grasped Jungkook’s arm and ran past him, wrenching him deeper into their shared dorm room.

Once in the middle of the room Taehyung started to twirl around still arms linked with Jungkook laughing jovially. Moonlight from the window cascaded them in shadow as they pirouetted and pirouetted.

“Alright, alright. Let's stop now.” Jungkook said through breathy puffs of air that fanned over Taehyung's face. Pulling his hands out of Taehyung's he flopped down on the bed into a pile of pillows and blankets. Yeah, there was no way he was going to go clubbing when he had such a comfy bed.

Taehyung flitted around their dorm room, grabbing what he called ‘the essentials’, which basically meant breath mints, and a change of clothes in case he vomits on himself. Jungkook let out little grumbles of protests when he was suddenly being pulled him from the solitude of his warm bed by Taehyung.

“Yah! Leave me alone I'm comfy!” Jungkook groaned as he rolled onto his side clinging to his bed for dear life. Taehyung was having none of that as he grabbed Jungkook’s blankets and ripped them off him in one swift motion.

“You know what you need tonight?” He asked as he got real close to Jungkook. That shit eating grin plastered on his face that always seemed to be there when he was up to no good. “To. get. laid.” He said enunciating each word slowly so the point stuck in Jungkook’s brain.

He flopped back down on the bed, staring up at Taehyung’s boxy grin. “Damn you're right.” Jungkook sighed out.

“Of course I'm right! I always am! Now if you'll excuse me…” Taehyung trailed off, pulling his shirt over his head, and grabbing a bottle of cologne. He doused himself entirely in the smelly perfume while making sure to flash Jungkook his tan exposed torso.

“Make sure to do that at the club. The ladies will be all over you if you do a strip tease on the dance floor.” He giggled as he poked Taehyung’s squishy sides.

“The ladies would be all over you too Kookie if you just tried.” That comment wiped the smile from Jungkook’s face completely, his giggling long forgotten as his face formed into one of anger.

“You know why I don't try.” He grumbles pissed off to the point of no return and pointing his finger into Taehyung's chest forcefully. “Don't fucking bring her up again.”

He felt shitty. He really did. Especially when he saw the way hurt flashed through Taehyung's puppy eyes, but he couldn't help it. The boys knew not to bring you up around Jungkook in fear of sending him back into a downward spiral.

It's been exactly eight months since you left him, and with each passing day Jungkook has been able to breath better and better, but that's only because he has wiped away every reminder of you. The only thing he can't seem to get rid of is his memories of you.

But his image of you has faded. When he tried to picture you all he got was blurred lines and fuzzy features. He's forgetting the way you looked in the morning sleeping next to him. He's even forgetting the way you smiled at him like he was your everything. When you left, you burned everything he thought he knew about you, leaving him grasping for any idea of you. Now it's been months, and he's finally getting better. He's even thinking about hooking up with someone just to feel some type of love again, but then Taehyung had to go and mention you. He didn't even have to say your name, all he had to do was give Jungkook that signature look. It's the face that says ‘I'm sorry someone fucked you over to the point you can't go out anymore.’ Jungkook has become very akin to that look.

Sighing heavily he looks back at Taehyung's sulking figure leaving the room. “Wait Tae, shit I'm sorry I'm such a mess.” Jungkook garbled out, his voice breaking towards the end.

“It's okay man,” Taehyung says as he nearly runs back towards Jungkook, enveloped him in a great, big bro hug, with a pat on the back and everything. “You've made so much progress Kookie. I hate to see you waste away in this room, playing Mario Kart and thinking about some girl.” He mumbles, pulling Jungkook almost impossibly closer to him.

“You're right. Time to move on, am I right?” Jungkook laughed, shaking his head as he pulled away from Taehyung's tight grip. “Come on. Let's go.” He said finally.

Taehyung's eyes bugged out of his head and he grasped Jungkook by the shoulders. “You mean it? You're actually gonna go clubbing with us?” He shouted.

“Yeah, I'm over her. Let's get shit faced.” Jungkook said with a definitive tone. Taehyung whooped and hollered, grabbing his Kookie by the neck, and dragging him down the hall, and out the dorm with the five other boys. All of them chanting about how smashed they were going to get.

As the door to the limo closed Jungkook had brief thoughts of you flashing through his mind, but he quickly washed them away with a shot...and then another… and then another...

---

By the time they reached the club Jungkook was on top of the world. That was probably due to the fact that he had downed a few and was possibly going to get alcohol poisoning by the end of night, if Yoongi hadn't snatched the bottle away from his needy hands.

Jungkook had let out a whimper of protest before he groaned and pressed his head against the cool glass of the window. He stared at the people who shook in the cold weather, waiting desperately to get in the club, and maybe it was because he was smashed, or maybe it was because deep down he missed you, but he thought for a split second that the girl standing just beyond the window, in line was you.

He shook his head, letting his fringe fall down in front of his eyes, glancing back up and taking a good look at the girl not twenty feet away. Her hair hung just below her shoulders, curled and pinned into a half up half down. Jungkook knew how she always loved to do her hair like that. She was clad in a navy blue dress that was so unbelievably tight in the chest but flared out as it hit her mid thigh and he shamelessly pressed his nose to the glass, scanning her up, and down, because the eight months did her so well. It did you so well.

Your friend whispered something in your ear and you burst into that familiar, bright smile that Jungkook spent months trying, and failing to visualize. He really couldn't explain what it felt like to see you again after so long. In one way it felt like he could breath for the first time in months, but in another the weight of knowing that you looked so happy without him felt completely suffocating. His chest tightened and he had to take a few calming breaths before he felt like he could move again.

He sat there, glued to his seat with his unresolved feelings on his sleeve. It wasn't until Taehyung was pulling Jungkook by the shirt, forcing him to leave the comfort of the car that he realized he was going to have to face you for the first time in what felt like forever.

Stumbling out of the car he felt like he was underwater. Pressure built in Jungkook ears and the dull screams of the fans were muffled to him as he searched the line for you.

He didn't love you anymore. He didn't. He was positive.

Everything after that happened in slow motion to him. You turned towards the sound of the excitement, a smile still plastered on your face, that is until you saw Jungkook. Immediately you paled, eyes widened, an emotion he couldn't quite pin point flashed through your eyes, and god, you looked just as beautiful up close and it made his heart sting  painfully in his chest before he stopped it. Jungkook took a deep breath that burned in his chest as memories of that night when you left him flashed vividly before his eyes. He’d be lying if he said that didn't persuade him into doing what he did next.

It was petty really, but it was all done from a place of deep hurt. He made sure that when you two made eye contact that he looked as unimpressed as possible. His eyes flashing over you like you were never anything to him. Jungkook was sure he was not drunk enough for this because the look on your face made him feel ill. Really, really ill. Even though he though a part of him kind of hated you for what you did, he never wanted to hurt you. He was just too self consumed in the moment, thinking only of keeping his image together.

It was a low blow, he thought to himself, but what was even lower was the way he blew past you, acting like you were just another crazed fan. He walked straight into the club following his 6 band members like he couldn't be bothered by your presence at all. His eyes were so trained to their back’s he never saw how your face fell, and how you had to take a minute to stop the tears that threatened to spill at the near sight of him.

Standing outside the pulsing club you reflected on the progress you had made over the past eight months. It was filled with many breakdowns that left you hyperventilating and grasping for any small reminder of Jungkook. All that time was supposed to have made you strong. It was building you up to the moment when you finally ran into him again and were able to not lose it at the sight of him, but here you were crying on a curb about a boy who just didn't care anymore.

You wrapped your arms around your torso struggling to keep it all together. Pressing your hands into your sides to try and stay grounded you repeated one thing like a mantra.

You didn't love him anymore. You didn't. You were positive.

That's why you pulled yourself together in a moment, and you turned to your friends and became the life of the party again because if Jungkook couldn't find it in him to care, then neither could you.

---

Jungkook sat stewing with anger as he watched you from the VIP section. His eyes possessively following you around the club, watching as you downed shot after shot. His anger growing each time you carelessly tossed your head back to the point he had to clench his hands into fists at his sides so they didn't shake.

Seeing you after so long was a thousand times harder than he thought it would be. Jungkook had really thought he had made so much progress in moving away from you. He had spent months pushing all aspects of your existence out of his life, from throwing away the little presents you had bought him, to burning the letters you had written him. Jungkook had gone completely cold turkey, and now his body was reacting to the process of having to see you again in the worst possible way.

It was tearing him up really, how bad he wanted you. From the moment he saw you from behind that window he felt like jumping from the moving car and clinging to you, his body craving your presence so much he felt like dying on the spot.

Watching the way your hips swayed in time to the music, Jungkook let out a string of obscenities. His gaze glued to you as you let your body feel the music, you were dancing like a stripper, and it was fucking pissing him off, and also turning him on. Which was very confusing for Jungkook.

Even when dating Jungkook you were always a source of male attention. So it came as no surprise to him when your dirty dancing caught the eyes of many suitors across the club.

Jungkook shook with anger as he watched the way others lustfully gazed your way. His nostrils flaring as he clenched and unclenched his grip on his beer. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much but it just did. He hated this absolute power you had over him, always making him worry, and always causing him hurt.

He promised himself he wasn't going to intervene. Telling himself that you weren't his problem anymore, he tried to pull his gaze away from you. He thought he'd focus his attention on the group of girls that had been invited up to the VIP section by his friends, but as he gave hem a once over he realized none of them had half the appeal that you possessed.

Jungkook sighed deeply and raked his fingers through his black hair, pulling at his roots. Something he did when he was particularly agitated. Looking back at the dance floor he suddenly felt panic rise in his chest when he couldn't spot you. He scanned the throngs of people desperately searching for any sign of you.

All he could see was people's bodies grinding against one another. The thought of you being one them made bile rise in the back of his throat because even though eight months had passed just thinking of you with another guy kept Jungkook up at night.

Everything comes to a complete halt for Jungkook when he sees you backed into a corner by one of the men who had been shamelessly staring at you just moments ago. The look on your face was one of complete revolt as your tiny hands shoved weakly against the large man’s chest.

Bolting past Taehyung and his friends, Jungkook takes the stairs from the VIP section two at a time. Once the ground he rips through people on the dance floor. Keeping in mind that each step is taking him closer to you he runs at a speed he didn't even know possible.

By time Jungkook shoves the last person out of the way his black hair is matted to his forehead with sweat and he was breathing heavily.

The man’s hands groped your sides aggressively as he continually tried to grind against you despite your repeated protests. Your hands were slamming against his chest as he pushed into you, but in a moment his heavy weight was lifting off of you, your hands flailing against nothing.

Opening your eyes you're met with a scene you never expected to see. Jungkook has your assailant pinned to the ground. The vein in his neck pronounced and his face all screwed up into something nasty as he gripped the man by shirt speaking to him in a very deep, malice filled tone.“Don't fucking touch my girl ever again. I swear to god the next time I see you I'll kill you. I fucking will.” His voice dripping with enmity for the man below him as he tightly gripped his shirt, pulling it so taut that it was starting to rip.

“Jesus man, we were just having some fun! I didn't know she was yours I swear!” The man shouted clearly afraid from beneath Jungkook.

Letting out a bitter laugh Jungkook stood up, pulling the man with him in one swift motion. Dusting off his shirt and fearfully glancing between you and Jungkook your attacker scurried away with his tail between his legs.

If you were being honest Jungkook's raw fury had scared the hell out of you, but before you knew it his soft side was back and he was pulling you into his chest gently. Cradling your head into his shoulder and running a hand over you soothingly as you felt goosebumps rise on your skin like a map of where he was touching you.

Jungkook pulled back and looked you in the eye. Even in the dark you lit up his entire world. Club lights bounced off your features causing him to feel illuminated just by your presence. Touching your skin sent jolts of electricity through him leaving him feeling slightly buzzed and even more intoxicated. He couldn't help himself as he ran his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face so he could see you more clearly.

“Are you okay?” He whispered into the shell of your ear while grasping your hands in his. “Please tell me he didn't hurt you. God, I couldn't live with myself if he did. Just-” Jungkook broke off his sentence by pressing his forehead against yours while closing his eyes and fighting back tears at the thought of someone else touching you.

You both stood there for minutes just drinking in each other's presence after not seeing each other for so long, and maybe it was because you were drunk or maybe it was because you missed him but you breathed him in, your hands grabbing at his jacket, his arms, his hair until you pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his.

Jungkook immediately moaned into the kiss, reaching his hands up to tangle in your hair as he pushed you back against the wall. The music was blaring into both of your ears but the sound was muffled to you two as you fell deeper and deeper into each other.

Jungkook swiped his tongue across your lower lip begging for entrance and you happily gave it to him, remembering just how good Jungkook was at kissing you. It was as soon as you tongues collided though that Jungkook could taste the alcohol on you.

Realization hits him like a freight train because he knew you didn't want this. He remembers how you told him just eight months ago that you didn't want him anymore. It was something that really stuck with him and pained him to ever think about, but in this moment he can even hear your voice as you screamed those awful words to him.

And that's why he pulls back. Narrowly avoiding the way your hands try to pull him back into you because even though he knows all he wants is to kiss you right now,  he's not so sure you want that too.

“Jungkook…is something wrong?” Your words slur together and he realizes that it’s the first thing he's heard you say all night. And it's fucking tearing him up because literally everything is wrong.

It's wrong that he kissed you, and ruined all his progress, and it's wrong that you don't actually want him he way he wants you. It's wrong that he just took advantage of you in your drunken state and it's damn right upsetting that you look so beautiful tonight that it physically hurts his heart.

The funniest joke of all though is the fact that you look truly hurt by his rejection as if you actually wanted him,  but he knew that it's just the alcohol talking.

“What's wrong is that tomorrow you're gonna wake up and regret even seeing me here let alone kissing me.” Jungkook runs his fingers through his black hair and lets out a deep sigh feeling his insides curl at the look of pain that runs across your face at what he says next. “And I'm gonna wake up tomorrow in the same place I was eight months ago.” He chokes out.

You tentatively take a step forward and press your hand against Jungkook's cheek. He jerks back at the sudden contact almost as if your touch had burned him, but when you prevail he leans into your touch. Fat tears were clumped in his eyelashes and you hold back a sob at the fact you've caused this all.

Because you let go. You let go the love of your life because you were selfish and couldn't stand dating an idol. Your told yourself that by cutting things off in such an aggressive manner Jungkook would stop loving you and be able to move on with his life. Even though it really killed you to see him with someone else, you loved him enough to let him go, and to be happy. You knew it killed him that he couldn't take you out in public, and you knew he hated having to sneak around with you into the night. So you decided what was best was to cut it all off. Get rid off the source of the pain. You being the source.

Painting yourself in a horrible light wasn't that hard, what was hard was seeing the pain it had caused Jungkook. Even now as he stands in front of you, months after your breakup you still see that wrecked boy in front of you, who was letting out whimpers of ‘don't let go’s and ‘I love you’s.

With his cheek still warm in your hand, you close the gap between your bodies. Hot air swimming around you both as you stare into his eyes remembering why you love him so much.

Holding onto your wrist, Jungkook stares completely captivated by the color of your eyes.

“Stay with me tonight, and I'll show you in the morning that I won't regret this.” You whisper pressing your forehead into his and breathing in his scent, the strong smell of Jungkook filling your senses.

His heart sped up in his chest, beating widely as he stared down at you. Before he knew what he was doing he was pulling you out of the doors of the club. The cold air hit him like a ton of bricks but the feeling of your hand in his was enough to keep him warm.

You crawled after Jungkook into the waiting taxi and as soon as he door closed safely behind you he was lifting you into his lap and nuzzling his head into your shoulder.

“I missed this so much.” Jungkook mumbles into your neck as he presses open mouthed kisses onto your skin, your head lolling back, and your eyes fluttering shut.

Jungkook was positively on fire. Wherever your hands hands touched ignited a flame under his skin and he squirmed to press himself closer to your body, craving that heat you provided. Your dress worked its way higher and higher up your thighs as you straddled him. As soon as a he got a view of your lace underwear he let out a strangled moan that made a you feel empowered.

You had always been a great dancer, and Jungkook soon remembered your skills when you started to circle your hips against the growing bulge in his pants. Jungkook couldn't breathe when he looked at you swinging your hips back and forth against him, drinking up every ounce of pleasure you provided him and feeling dangerously intoxicated by your presence. Heat swirled between you as you both filled the car with intimate sounds, not even embarrassed by the flustered taxi driver who got you to your destination as soon as possible.

Rolling out of the car, a tumble of limbs, and hot desire, you pulled Jungkook up the many stairs to your apartment. Stumbling along the way, because you were so blasted out of your mind. You didn't even know what was happening. All you knew was Jungkook was finally here again, and fuck you weren't letting him go for the second time.

Your hands were everywhere as you entered your bedroom, gliding over the expanse of his chest, up his sides, cupping his cheeks as you pulled him closer to you. Your kisses were rushed, a mess of heavy breathing and mumbled curses throwing Jungkook into a frenzy as he tried to undress you as fast as possible. His hands shaking in the process because he was so drunk off the alcohol and your body.

Suddenly you placed your hands on his chest as a feeling of dread crept through your body and up to your mouth. “Jungkook-” you whispered the room spinning as you pulled out of his grasp. “I think I'm gonna be sick.”

Jungkook's hushed responses went unheard to you as you bolted to the bathroom. Collapsing near the toilet and heaving out a whole bucket of alcohol. Your body totally rejecting the poison you had put into it.

Jungkook was quick to move to your side, holding your hair back as you heaved and heaved, repeatedly emptying your body of its contents. His heart constricting with worry for your well being as he soothingly ran his hand up and down your back drawing circles into the skin to try and soothe you.

Suddenly you stopped, turning and smiling over your shoulder. It was a thankful, shy smile that blossomed on your cheeks making your eyes crinkle, and successfully knocked the wind out of his lungs. Jungkook could swear that moment he was completely stone cold sober, all his alcohol consumption long forgotten, because you looked just as beautiful as ever.

He forgot a lot of things when he looked into your eyes. He forgot that he was older than you, that he was an idol, that you had broken his heart, all he knew was that he wanted to dance with you right now. He knew that every day from here on out was going to get better, because it would be spent with you. You made him feel like he was enough and that was all that mattered.

“Stay over. Please?” You whispered as Jungkook slowly pulled you closer to his chest, hugging you to him on the cold tiled floor.

“I think you should get some rest.” Jungkook hushed as he silently rocked you back and forth.

As he gazed down at your features and everything came crashing down on Jungkook. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of his emotions, being completely taken over by the fact that he loved you. He really, really loved you. When he was with you felt safe, almost as if you were his home, and all this time he'd been away from you all he needed was to come back to you, because he had found what he needed in a person.

If he was being completely honest it absolutely terrified him. It scared the shit out of him that in one second he found a love that will take him a lifetime to get over.

You fell asleep like that, in his arms on the floor, completely exhausted from being sick, and Jungkook carried you to your bed, tucking you under the covers gently. Smoothing the hair back from your forehead he pressed a gentle kiss to you cheek.

You smelled just like he remembered and it caused him to laugh. Some things really never change he thought to himself. You were always such a constant for him, even when you left he could never rid you from his senses. It's you. It's always been you and it says will be. The hurt you had caused him was temporary but his love for you wasn't. He tried convincing himself that he was fine but that was just denial and seeing you tonight confirmed for him that he'd truly never get over you.

He was prepared to leave. He gathered his things and was ready to go back to the dorms when he heard you stir in your sleep, letting out a small cry for Jungkook.

Rushing over to you he sat perched on the side of the bed. You groggily opened your eyes reaching for Jungkook's waist in the process. Pulling him down next to you and snuggling into his broad chest.

In your sleep ridden state Jungkook could only make out snippets of words. Whimpers of “don't leave me”, “I need you.”, and the one that rang most clearly in Jungkook's ears were “I love you.”

His heart beat loudly in his chest. Every fiber of his being on fire. He loved you and all he wanted was to be there for you. To be able to love you till his lungs gave out and till you were both gray and old. The past was in the past. He couldn't change the amount of time you two lost but he could sure as hell try and make up for it. He didn't know what the future held for you two but as long as you didn't let go again, as long as you loved him that was enough. 

[artificialqueens]

Coming Home Chapter 12 (Shalaska) - Jem

AN: I apologize profusely for the wait. I know I said last chapter that I was back, but I guess I’m not as good at sorting my life as I hoped I would be. That being said, thank you all for sticking by me and giving me feedback on where you’d like to see this story go. Special shout out to @thewritingnymph for advice and support!

Chapter 12

Violet was walking from her French class alone on Monday afternoon when Matt caught up to her. She hadn’t seen him since the other night when they’d kissed, and she was frankly unsure of how to act around him. She felt guilty over how she’d treated him, and she still wasn’t certain about how she felt about what had happened. Avoiding him had been the easiest option, but of course it hadn’t lasted long.

“Hey.” Matt greeted her with his standard nonchalance, but she could tell he was nervous by how his hands fidgeted in his pockets as he walked beside her.

“Hey.” She replied, trying to judge the situation. Matt didn’t seem angry, if anything he looked like he was holding something in. Violet didn’t want to force it, so she just relaxed her face so her brows weren’t furrowed and her mouth didn’t have its signature “bitch pout”. Maybe he’d feel a little better then.

“Listen Violet, I’m really sorry about what happened. I was being stupid and I wasn’t thinking.” Matt finally explained.

“It’s ok.”

Matt looked unconvinced.

“No, really it’s ok. You didn’t really do anything wrong. I actually had a good time before it all got out of hand.” That much was true. Violet had never been able to let her guard down like that before in her whole life. It was so nice to be able to feel like a real teenager, if only for a moment. Maybe they shouldn’t have gotten so drunk, and maybe they shouldn’t have broken into that building, but it had honestly been harmless fun. Everything had just happened so fast that Violet’s brain hadn’t been able to catch up with her actions.

“Were Sharon and Alaska really mad?”

“They were at first. But not about the crown, or the drinking or any of that really. We’re ok now.”

“I’m really glad….”

They walked together in silence for a moment. There was still some kind of unresolved tension between them that hadn’t been there before. Was it always going to be like this? It had just been a kiss and a silly fight, nothing monumental. Violet looked over at Matt; his blonde hair was messy against his forehead, and his blue eyes wandered in the awkwardness between them, not meeting hers. True, she didn’t know if she was really attracted to him, but she cared about the boy a lot and had found a genuine friend in him that she’d never expected to discover. She selfishly hoped she hadn’t compromised that after their kiss.

“I still feel bad and I’d really like to make it up to you.” Matt broke the silence, pulling Violet out of her thoughts. “The Winter Formal is coming up this Friday and I don’t know if you like dances or if you’re going with someone already but if you’re not, would you like to go with me? As friends?” Matt blurted out faster than she’d ever heard him speak before.

“Oh.” Violet paused. “I already told Fame I’d go with her, as friends. But I wouldn’t be opposed to a third musketeer?”

“She doesn’t still hate me?”

“If me and my stone-cold heart can warm up to you, I’m positive she can.” Fame had a good heart; she wouldn’t be hard to win over.

“Ok.” Matt agreed, smiling sheepishly.

“Ok.” Violet gave him a smirk and turned the corner into her next class.

——-

As Friday rolled around, Violet and Fame were getting ready for the dance at Violet’s.

Alaska had helped Violet sew her own dress for the event, which had been very exciting. Violet had always been interested in fashion design, and Alaska had the skillset to properly teach her how to sew for the first time. It had also been an opportunity for them to talk more about Alaska’s life.

“Did you learn all of this for art school?” Violet had asked Alaska as the woman was showing her how to pin her fabric tightly to the pattern they’d made together.

“Some. I did a lot of fibre and performance work in school. It was definitely… experimental in my early years.”

“Oh my god, please tell me you have them on video.”

“I don’t.” Violet sighed in disappointment. “But I’m sure Sharon does….” Alaska continued.

That had become a wonderful afternoon of watching not only Alaska’s cringey, but simultaneously brilliant, performance pieces filmed on Sharon’s grainy video camera, but also sneaky clips Alaska had taken of Sharon’s run in Miss Pennsylvania US. It was sickeningly sweet how much the two of them seemed to adore each other. And even with the distraction they’d still finished Violet’s dress in time for Friday.

The gown was made out of deep purple lace layered over top of solid lilac fabric. It had a sweetheart neckline with short, frilly sleeves over the shoulders and it fell just above her knees. Overall, the dress was simple but had vintage inspiration; Violet was really pleased with the result considering it was her first project. She paired the look with an amethyst necklace she’d borrowed from Alaska.

Her and Fame were painting their nails when Sharon knocked, with a visitor in tow. Matt scratched the back of his head nervously as he greeted Violet and Fame from the doorway of Violet’s bedroom.

“What’s he doing here?” Fame asked a bit coldly, and Violet berated herself for putting off telling her friend that he’d be joining them.

“He’s alright, Fame, I swear.”

The blonde girl raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

“He asked to join us for the dance, and I know we both could use your esteemed fashion and beauty advice.” Fame finally seemed to take a breath, content with the compliment.

Sharon ushered Matt into the room, but lingered in the doorway, obviously wanting to speak.

“Do you guys need anything?” She asked cheerfully, observing the fun.

“No mom.” Violet rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Ok. I’m trying to be the cool mom, so I’ll get out of your way. Let me know if you need snacks or drinks or anything.”

Violet nodded a bit expectantly.

“Ok, ok I’ll get out.” She raised her hands in surrender.

Sharon turned and left so Violet invited Matt to take a seat on the floor next to her.

“Hello Matthew.” Fame said a bit curtly, barely looking up from her manicure to meet his eyes.

“You can call me Matt.”

“Alright Matt, do you have anything to wear tonight?” Fame stopped her work and looked the boy over. Violet could see the wheels turning in her head; the girl could never turn down a fashion project, even if said project was an asshole sometimes.

Matt pulled a basic, black suit jacket, pants, and a shirt out of the garment bag he’d entered with.

“It’s nothing special, really.” He said sheepishly. “What are you guys wearing?”

Violet showed him her dress, and he looked impressed, especially knowing she’d made it herself. Fame had also chosen a beautiful, strapless tan gown that hugged her form down to her knees then billowed out in a mermaid silhouette. They’d wanted to make sure their outfits complemented each other, so Violet had worn nude pumps and Fame had a lilac stole.

“Wow, those are really nice.” Matt remarked upon seeing both of their dresses. He seemed sincere but his voice held a tinge of sadness.

“Matt, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid.”

“It’s ok.”

“We’re the last people who’d judge you.” Fame assured him, clearly warming up to the boy now that she saw some vulnerability.

“I’m just gonna look so plain in my hand-me-down suit and you both are going to be stunning.”

“Well… I’m not sure if Sharon and Alaska have any boy’s clothes…..” Violet trailed off.

Matt was quiet.

“Do you want to wear boy’s clothes?”

Silence again.

“I don’t know.” He finally answered.

“Matt, this is going to be blunt but, do you think you’re like me?” Violet blurted out.

“Like, transgender?”

Violet nodded.

“I don’t think it’s the same, like, I’m not a girl.” Matt began to play with his hands, not meeting Violet’s eyes. He was obviously uncomfortable, but not closed to the discussion.

“I don’t exactly feel like a girl either; gender doesn’t feel like it applies to me, I just like to present as femme, you know?” Violet added.

“I don’t mind presenting as a boy, like I am a boy, but I like those things, necklaces, hair, lipstick.” He elaborated. “I am happy as Matt, I am Matt, but I want more sometimes too.”

“Do you think you want to do drag, Matt?” Fame piped in.

“Like, dressing up as a girl?”

“Like gender as performance. Playing around with those feminine things you like, but not changing your gender.” Violet explained.

“That sounds kind of cool.” He sounded reluctant to admit it.

“Do you want to go to prom in drag?” Violet pushed.

“What? No! No way. Everyone would make fun of me.”

“Ok, ok. One step at a time.” Fame said gently. “Why don’t you try on that suit and let’s see what we can do.”

Matt went to the bathroom to change.

The suit wasn’t horrible, considering Matt had borrowed it from an older cousin. The pants were nice and the jacket fit him well in the shoulders, but the white shirt and tie looked like they were strangling him.

Violet got an idea and she ran into Alaska and Sharon’s closet to borrow a dark grey turtleneck shirt. She had him try that instead, and he immediately looked more comfortable and casual.

The whole look began to come together. Fame styled Matt’s hair so it was slicked back, and with encouragement he allowed her to do some makeup. The lines of gender began to blur as she traced his eyes with black and a hint of glitter, and he even let her paint on bold red lips that matched Violet’s. The final touch was the classic pearl necklace he’d worn the other night.

He looked at himself in the mirror, shocked but (hopefully) not upset. “Wow.” He said in a breathy voice.

“Do you like it?”

“I do.” He made a show of running his hand through his slicked-back hair. “Does this make me gay now?”

“Oh my fucking God, Matt.” Violet exclaimed, and there was the normal, slightly problematic but kind-hearted, Matt.

“That was shitty, sorry.” He blushed. “I think I am kinda gay though.” He said much more seriously.

“Aren’t we all?” Fame stated the obvious, rolling her eyes, but not unkindly. She glanced sideways at Violet but the girl kept her face stoic.

“Now let’s get out of here so that Sharon and Alaska can take the million pictures I know they’ll want without us being too late.”

——-

Violet wouldn’t consider herself much of a dancer. But compared to Matt and Fame, she was practically a prima ballerina. Fame wasn’t terrible with the actual movements, but she had no sense of rhythm at all, and Matt…. well he had about as much grace as a baby elephant. Luckily there weren’t very high expectations for a high school dance. In fact, the atmosphere was a lot more chill than Violet had originally expected. Someone had definitely spiked the punch, and everyone was having a good time and didn’t bother them the whole night. They danced all three of them, taking turns laughing at each other.

“Violet!” Two voices yelled out in unison.

Violet turned to see Katya and Trixie walking her way with linked arms. Trixie looked more than a little tipsy, and was visible leaning on Katya for support.

“You look so beautiful!” Katya exclaimed, reaching a hand to touch Violet’s shoulder. The gesture was enough to call Matt and Fame’s attention away from their failed dance attempts.

“Katya!” Fame yelled in excitement, rushing to hug her and Trixie at the same time. “Are you guys here together?” She asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Oh yeah!” Katya answered fairly loudly, and Trixie blushed but didn’t look upset.

“That’s so nice! I’m so happy for you two.” Fame looked like she was getting emotional, but she was always sentimental about romance if any kind.

“Matt?” Trixie asked, almost as if she didn’t recognize the boy.

“Yeah?” He said tentatively, broken out of his carefree daze. He suddenly seemed self-conscious of his appearance and the makeup on his face. He bit his lip a bit nervously, Violet noticed.

“You look really good.” Trixie said fondly, maybe even proudly.

“Thanks Tracy…” Matt’s eyes shone as he pulled out her old nickname. “I think I finally get why you wear so much makeup.” He joked, gesturing to his own face then hers.

“Yeah?”

“To look like a hooker.”

Trixie burst into laughter that quickly spurred Katya and the rest of the group to join. “Ooh, you bitch!” She yelled at Matt, who looked rather pleased with himself. “Maybe if you’re lucky someone will want to take you home.”

Violet made sure to look straight ahead but she could tell Matt was looking at her through her peripheral vision.

Eventually Katya and Trixie returned to their date, and they were contrasting figures in hot pink and black and red, but somehow it all worked together as they spun rather expertly on the dance floor.

As the night came to a close, Fame was sleepy and that meant she was affectionate. Violet linked her arms around her waist as Fame leaned her head on her shoulder and closed her eyes. They swayed together to some slow song Violet didn’t recognize, content in the calm.

She was grateful to have someone who seemed to support her no matter what she did. Sometimes Violet didn’t know how Fame could still put up with her when she was being cunty and insensitive, but as much as she hated to admit it, she was insecure about just about everything and needed constant reassurance that she was loved. Fame seemed happy to give her that.

“Fame?” Violet whispered as people began to leave the dance floor.

“Mhmm?” The other girl mumbled, not opening her eyes.

“I think it’s time to go home.” Violet looked up at Matt over Fame’s shoulder, who smiled and nodded, coming over to stand closer to them.

“Oh, but I don’t want to go…”

“C’mon, you can barely stand on your own two feet.”

“I’m just having the best time ever, aren’t you guys? This has been the perfect night.”

Violet couldn’t agree more, but every night had to end.

Her and Matt managed to get Fame into the car, and they dropped her off at home first. The blonde gave Violet a gentle peck on the cheek before bidding them both goodnight.

Violet dropped Matt off next, and they sat in the car outside his house for a moment.

“Are you gonna be ok to go home like this?” Violet asked, hating that she had to at all.

Matt only then seemed to remember that he was wearing makeup.

“Oh.” He said gently, but not as scared as he usually appeared when discussing his family. “Do you have anything I can use to take this off?”

She nodded, fumbling for some makeup wipes in her bag. Matt took off as much as he could in the car mirror in the dark, and Violet was so sad to see him have to do it. She could relate to not feeling safe to present how she truly felt. He tried to give her back the pearl necklace he’d borrowed but she insisted he keep it. Sharon certainly wouldn’t wear it anymore.

“I’m sorry you have to do that.” She spoke.

“It’s ok.” He said calmly, and she raised an eyebrow. “My parents are not my rulers, you know? And I’m not gonna let them stop me anymore. Maybe one day I’ll be able to explain it to them and they’ll begin to understand.”

“I hope they will.”

Matt sat quietly for another second before speaking up. “Violet, I want you to know you don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re my friend, of course I worry about you.”

“I mean, you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.” Matt continued. “You know I like you, obviously, but I don’t think you feel the same and I’m content to have you as my friend if that’s all you can give. Because you’ve really been my best friend, I mean it.”

“Matt, I-

“No really, I feel like I’m finally finding myself, and that’s thanks to you. I want you to go after whatever you truly want, can you promise me that?”

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yes, now get out of the car, you big lug!” Violet wrapped the boy in a tight hug and let him go.

She drove home, but she had so much on her mind that the drive went by in a flash.

“Oh, hi….” Violet entered the apartment, head still spinning from the wonderful night she’d had. She was surprised to see Sharon and Alaska sitting on the couch in the living room. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“Don’t worry, we weren’t just sitting here all night worried about you.” Sharon joked.

“Actually, we have something to give you. I know it’s late we were just really excited.” Alaska added.

“Ok…..” Violet didn’t know what could be so important, and good mind you, that it warranted them waiting into the late hours of the night for her. She looked at them both expectantly, and after a few long seconds of her two foster moms smiling at each other, Alaska burst out with:

“You’re ours! The paperwork went through.”

“Oh my god, I’m adopted?”

“Yes baby, you’re our daughter.”

Violet felt tears welling up in her eyes and she didn’t stop them from trailing down her cheeks. Maybe it was a combination of everything that had happened tonight along with the realization of how this was the happiest she’d ever been in her entire life, but she found herself sobbing before long.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, trying to wipe her cheeks dry as more tears fell.

“It’s ok.” Alaska pulled her over the couch and gave her a tight hug.

“What are you feeling right now, Vi?” Sharon asked.

“I’m just so happy. I never thought I’d have friends and family who love me and that I love so equally in return.”

Sharon went to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate as Violet calmed down, but it wasn’t the normal kind from a powder mix. No, she melted two bars of chocolate into some milk on the stove and stirred it until it was warm and smooth. Violet was surprised that she hadn’t burnt it, considering her past kitchen endeavours. However, it seemed that Sharon was a hot chocolate connoisseur; it was one of the best things Violet had ever tasted.

Violet sipped the rich liquid and let the warmth fill up her body.

Sharon fell asleep in Alaska’s lap not much later, and god they were such a cheesy cliche of a family but Violet had never been lucky enough to have cliches before. She indulged herself, in what she would later call a moment of weakness, turned the lights in the kitchen off and went back to the couch to join them.