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taecalikook · 5 years ago

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(Not) Just Friends

summary : Befriending the fuckboy with devilishly handsome face and emotional capacity of a pea is not exactly your choice, especially when you met him when you were in fifth grade, attracted for the unhealthy vermillion shaded face of the nerd he was that fateful day. So is Jungkook, as he is already putting strictly platonic label on your forehead and calls it a day. But it is only a matter of time before everything changes, and it only takes a frat party, lots of booze and... a certain Kim Seokjin.

{friends to lovers! au, fuckboy! au, fratboy! au}

pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (side kim seokjin)

genre : major fluff, a sprinkle of angst and borderline crack

word count : 24.612 (one-shot)

==============

“Hi, pumpkin! Is that for me?”

You were just sipping on your morning espresso, sitting in your favorite coffee shop while reading your favorite book of all time when the familiar annoying voice of your childhood best friend rang in your ear. You look up, finding the hateful smirk on his lips that you desperately want to strangle off of him, more for interrupting your sacred solitude morning routine—well not really solitude since you did promise him breakfast before class today. But as per usual, he just had to steal the glass you had in your grasps, sipping on the tasteful liquid while scrunching his eyebrows on your choice of reads.

“Isn’t it too early for The Great Gatsby in such a wonderful morning?”

“Isn’t it getting too old for you to keep drinking my coffee?” You bite back in the same bratty manner he displays. Jungkook chuckles, resting the cup back with a slight grimace. Probably because the coffee is tad too bitter for a sweet-crazed tooth like him. “You don’t even like espresso. I don’t even know why you always want a taste of my coffee.”

“Nah, I just want to mess with you fam.” He smirks, the bitterness still leaving a mark on his taste buds. Serve him right, you roll your eyes and try to center your attention back to your book. This idiot really knows no boundaries when it comes to you, you swear to God.

You and Jungkook have been best friends since both of you were kids. As cliché as it sounds, you met Jungkook when he was a total nerd in fifth grade of elementary school. He perfectly embraces the nerd stereotype at that time, thick ass glasses, braces, carrying books and his neon green nintendo nearly everywhere. You were not really interested in befriending the nerd, but when he got shamed by the cool girls for giving them chocolates for Valentine's Day—an expensive chocolate, for anyone keeping notes—you quickly stepped in when it seemed like it went overboard.

Jungkook was bullied in the middle of the school yard with everyone to witness, for giving the girl he likes a chocolate on fucking Valentine’s Day. You noticed how ashamed he was—lips quivering, heads hanging low and the most distinctive feature is his cheek and ears, literally turning to the shade of vermillion. You did not know whether it is healthy for a face to be that red—you were terrified he might pass out—but yet those girls were still keen on mocking his sincere acts and his shy expression, not showing a sign to stop anytime soon.

Your consciousness literally forced you to step in, jumping on between them and literally yell at those girls. You forcefully stole the chocolate from one of the girls' grasp, eating them on the spot and shouted in irritation, “Done! I ate everything, so stop bullying him. You girls should be ashamed of yourself, he did nothing wrong!”

The imbecile girls were embarrassed, because their show was immediately stopped by an unpopular girl they never saw before in front of the whole school to see. One girl who seemed to be like the leader of the lunatic gang suddenly moved forward and pushed you until you fell on your back, and you know that was it. You seriously had been waiting to use your taekwondo skills for a better cause, and at that time, you saw the chance and took it whole-heartedly. You were not even using your full strength on her—you mostly used your defense technique when she was giving multiple amateur punches. You really lost everything when she grabbed your hair and pulled it hard (like most amateur girls would fight). The pain on your scalp hurt from the vicious pull, so you mildly used the front kick technique on her to push her away yet she easily fell down like a limp noodle, scraping her body with a small amount of the blood trickling out.

After the fight ensued and was broken off by one of the teachers, you and the crying girl were taken to the headmaster’s office. You were going to be punished severely, but fortunately some witnesses came to your rescue, you and the girl received punishment of detention for one month straight. Somehow, the spoiled annoying girl got out of the punishment with her parents persuasion, yet not really the same for your strict parents. They were furious for you to be punished for a physical fight in school that they directly cut you from your twice-a-week taekwondo classes you loved so much—thinking that it must be a bad influence for you. Not only that, you were also grounded and was forbidden to go out of the house for a month. You were devastated, but you know there was no way to change their minds, so you just sucked it up and promised to do your punishment well.

Day one of your punishment, you were sitting inside the detention class, the teacher was zooming off on the table with a documentary of Helen Keller played on the television. You were doodling on the back of your book in boredom. Suddenly, amongst the silence, a hush was heard in front of you, whispering your name. You shifted your head, finding the same boy directly on the table in front of you.You must absolutely did not expect it to be him—the nerd you saved from raging selfishness of the slow-minded girls.

“Hi... I got into detention to accompany you...”

You inspected the boys with scrunched eyebrows in confusion. He somehow was still with the vermillion shade of red coloring his supple cheeks, just like last week when you were defending him. Is he... sick? He better be not, cause if he were, you were going to regret not setting the girl straight a little bit harder. The adamant despise towards injustice firing inside you was ignited by the lesson you always received from your taekwondo class, how you always must use your strength for goodness. Yes, you indeed will be missing going to Taekwondo classes.

Realizing your mind had been anywhere but here, you straightened in your seat and tilted your head in confusion at the guy. “Are you okay? You look so… red.”

The boy quickly hid his cheeks with his palm, eyes not meeting yours out of shyness. It looked like he wanted the world to swallow him firsthand. “I—I’m sorry! I just have this weird physical habit of turning super red whenever I'm shy or angry..” He whispered, nibbling on his lips while still avoiding your eyes. “I hope I don’t make you uncomfortable..”

“Nope.” You answered with a loud pop on the last ‘p’, sending the boy a warm smile. “It doesn’t bother me in any way. You should not be ashamed of that. That’s cute.”

Well if you thought his face was already red, you could not imagine how more red it could turn into after you called him cute. Out of panic, you swiftly handed him the cold drinks sitting on your desk. “H—hey! You are too red, it is not possible. Put this on your face!”

After a few seconds he spent pushing the cold bottle to his face, you could finally see him breath again. You were unable to hold a smile looking at the boy, huffing his breath repeatedly to calm himself. You did sincerely find him cute, so different from the boys from your school who somehow really got on your nerves from constantly bragging about nearly everything. Their expensive belongings, their parent’s house, their ability to play sports, and it sickened you. Well you didn't really know the boy in front of you, but it seemed like he wasn’t the type to. You were prepared to drop him the second a cocky symptoms were found though, even if internally you wish he wouldn’t. You spared so much of your effort to take on the guy’s side, such a waste to do that on another thick-headed prick.

“I just realize I don’t know your name.” You suddenly thought to yourself after multiple times addressing him as ‘the nerd’ or ‘this boy’. He was just giving your drinks back to your desk, and then he shyly put out his hands to you.

“Hi.. My name is Jungkook. I am ten years old, and I came from Busan. I have one brother and one dog. My hobby is playing games and taking a bath! Nice to meet you!”

You really were going to burst into laughter, but then you detect the teacher was already woken up and shooting looks at the both of you for causing such a loud commotion. You bit your lips, holding any sound from coming out fervently, your eyes trained on your desk so you would be able to hold them back. Inside, you were glad that you saved this boy the other day. This boy was too pure and kind for his own good, and you were happy that you stood for him.

Well, that was all too long in the past, you nearly had a hard time remembering it. Now Jungkook has changed, 180 degrees from that cute, shy, vermillion shade faced boy you met in elementary school. After an agonizing ten years has passed, he went from a total innocent sweetheart, such a cutie to the annoying ass of a fuckboy jock he is today. What a shame to witness the degradation, you thought to yourself. But you did know when and where it went wrong—he was just too tired of being taken too much of an advantage by despicable people around him. The friend he befriended, his chemistry lab partner in middle school, his classmates and especially the girl he dated in high school. He hated it—he hated everything that happened to him when he was trying to be the nice guy for everyone.

So in the last year of high school—after the bad breakup with the said girlfriend—he changed everything, nearly everything until it's even hard for you to recognize him sometimes. He swore off dating and romances, he went twelve hours per week to the gym and the school’s football team, attended parties days and nights before fucking random girls, and did the bare minimum in his education due to the shift of focus. But still even by then (actually, even until today), one and only person he would always listen to was you.

When he failed one of his subjects in the last term of high school—and seemed completely unbothered by it, you were furious at him and refused to communicate in any way to him until he got his priorities straight. He tried contacting you, but you rejected at the first beep. He waited for you in front of your class but you quickly shove him with hurtful words his way, “You stop being yourself, Jungkook. I don’t even know you anymore.” and you meant every word. You missed your best friend, you missed his innocence and availability for you, and frankly, you also had enough of hearing about how charming he was, or how good he was in bed, talked in hush by your obnoxious girls in your classes.

Few days later, you were already resting in your house while reading a book and listening to the droplets of the heavy rain knocking down on your roof, until a hesitant knock was heard on the door. You shuffled to open the door to find, was expecting your brother coming home from college, but instead found Jungkook, drenched in front of your porch with the remedial sheet on his hand—written that he passed the said subject with flying colors. You were surprised that he even got the chance to fix his grade, but after telling you he needed to do a fifty page review of the economic systems around the world to even got the chance to remedial test, you did realize how much he put an effort to pass a subject he didn’t even like. Somehow, it resulted in more happiness on you than you thought it would be. You couldn’t deny you were already contemplating whether you were too harsh or nosy on him, or he would just drop you the second you push him away. You were on the edge, imagining that you would lose a best friend because of your annoying attitude and peskiness. But he came through.

After welcoming Jungkook to take a bath and wear your brother’s clothes, you offered him a glass of hot chocolate, his favorite drink. But you noticed that he was still pouting, so you questioned it. “I am thankful that you knocked some sense into me, but Y/N, don’t ever ignore me like that again…” Jungkook’s pout turned deeper, his knuckles pushing your forehead in annoyance.

“You are the last person who I ever wanted to turn against me.” He whispered after seconds of silence of just staring at each other, eyes turning gleam that knocked some guilt inside your chest. You nodded silently, promising that you would not do that kind of antics again.

You remember that day like the back of your hand—after a long time, you see how vermillion-shaded his face has returned after telling you how thankful he was for your presence as his best friend during the past ten years, and your straight-up attitude that set him straight during his weak times. He cried that day, telling you how hard everything was for him. Behind those strong facade and muscle, you realized he was still the innocent, vulnerable nerd with a vermillion-shaded face you met ten years ago. You missed those innocence he finally displayed, and it brought you back to times when it was just you and him against the world.

Even after that day Jungkook still continues all his fuckboy ways, and until now after both of you went to the same university. He is taking an industrial engineering major while you were doing your life-long dream of taking political science, both of your faculties are located near each other. Jungkook was still being the same Jungkook he was, he joined the football team and brother frat in college, filled with dumb rich jocks who held parties nearly twice a week. After getting few drinks in the party, he would fall into meaningless sex with the girl he just knew before. Not that you mind, you have been way too accustomed in having such a best friend and it doesn’t even bother you anymore.

But still, you were confused how Jungkook is able to maintain his life together—his studies, his jock practices and his fuckboy activities in parallel. You have no objection at all for his life choices—since he never leaves you out and schedules a breakfast or lunch minimal twice per week with you to update you on what he was doing with his life and likewise. Not even counting the times he would get you from your apartment if you have the same morning class like today. By what you hear from him, it really seems like he is holding up just well. Good for him.

“Hey, stop ignoring me, you ugly ass hoe!”

You wake up from your long flashbacks, since you notice that you have been zooming out for quite a while now. You clear your throat, sipping on the coffee that has turned cold, sending apologies for not paying attention to him. “Sorry. I was distracted. You were saying?”

Jungkook frowns, his eyes squinted on you, and you know what he was doing. He was trying to diagnose your silence. You roll your eyes at his nosy acts. “Stop looking at me like that! I said I was sorry, Jungkook. Now tell me what’s bothering you. This girl you fucked with before, did she still try to contact you again?”

“I wasn’t telling you about that!” Jungkook raises his voice, his face slightly reddening out of shyness for you mentioning his bad experience on one of his one night stands. Looking at him, you are reminded about the vermillion-faced Jungkook you met in elementary school. Oh how you miss those reddening supple cheeks of his. “I was telling you if you are going to Hoseok’s birthday party this weekend. It’s gonna be lit, I swear! He is holding it in his fancy ass house with a pool and whatever.” You snort, your eyes trailing back on your books even if you are not reading at all. You just want to ignore him, implicitly telling how silly his invitation was. Parties are never your forte, you feel mildly uncomfortable in such a short distance with tons of strangers. You’d rather reread this book you are holding for the nth time already, you swear.

“Y/N, you could even meet boys there, I know how saintly you have been living lately. Live a little, pumpkin! I swear you’ll enjoy it there.” Still you don’t budge on him.

“Kim Seokjin is gonna be there, though. You sure you won’t come?”

Listening to his name, your ears perk up, eyes slightly glancing up to him. Seokjin is one of Jungkook’s frat brothers, a final year who surely does not share the same ugly traits of the other brother. He is smart, ambitious in his study, and is also the head of the Taekwondo university club. Your deep interest in Taekwondo has driven you to see him in multiple universities and external competitions, and you cannot bear yourself but to swoon over him and his rightful acts. Even if you surely do not have the courage to directly introduce yourself to him, you have been thinking a lot about joining the club with pure—well not really pure motivation. You are also unable to emphasize more that he is really one of the kindest souls out there. He is known as very helpful to everyone, joining as a volunteer in various social and environmental movements. You also heard that he had a serious relationship for five years, in which they had to break up a year ago because the girl had to move to America to pursue her study and decide to break up with him. What a doofus.

You notice the cocky, winning triumph on Jungkook’s face realizing how affected you are by the name, but you’ll set aside your will to erase the annoying smirk off of his face just to get more information out of him. “Continue.”

“He is best friends with Hoseok. I know he is not really a party type—you probably know that better than I do—but this one's for his friend's birthday party. He’ll come.” Jungkook says, munching on the served american breakfast in front of him. “You can finally meet him, probably say hi and then bone him while you’re at it. You get me?” Jungkook wickedly smiles, eyebrows dancing on his temple and you roll your eyes in response. You have such an obnoxious dickhead as a friend, and whose fault is it? Yours, of course.

“I hate you so much, Jungkook. Do you know that?” You gave him a cynical smile, and he returned it with the same bland taste, biting on the last piece of bacon.

“Can.. Can I bring Lia too?” You hesitantly asked, biting on your lips. Jungkook’s chewing movement is slowing, an uncomfortable silence ensues.

Lia is your apartment roommate, a cute girl with the same major as yours. Short height, big round eyes and straight hair are her noticeable features, and what troubles Jungkook for Lia’s presence in your discussions, is her uncanny resemblance to his high school ex girlfriend. Her similar name, her looks, her height, her choice of outfit and nearly everything, reminded him of the girl he has been trying to forget. You were surprised while meeting her too at first, but you did not realize how the resemblance would bother Jungkook that much. Well probably, Jungkook was still trying to forget about her—hell, this whole new persona of his was founded by his heartbreak towards the bitter-ended relationship.

You remember how head over heels was Jungkook towards his ex-girlfriend. Whenever he is around her, or just thinking about her when she was brought up in your discussions, Jungkook would again turn vermillion in shyness for his adoration of the girl. He would waste hours, with all his power and wealth to make the girl happy—without telling you at that time about how much he spent for her, since he knew how fervently you would react to that—and content with the relationship they both shared. But none could prepare him for the inevitable break up, Jungkook found the girl was cheating on him with another older guy, in which he found out who was her source of income too. Jungkook was devastated, heartbroken and that's the turning point when he swore off romances and relationships at all cost. You tried your best in helping him mend the broken pieces caused by the vicious witch of an ex-girlfriend, but you know none of it was the same ever again. What you could and promise to do is to be there for your best friend, at all times.

“It’s—it’s okay. I think I am just overreacting over all of this. I swear.” He sighs, sounding a little bit tired of everything and putting the utensils on his plate. You lean closer, waiting for the continuation of his spoken mind. “I am so fucked up, Y/N. Like, there are so many things that keep reminding me of her. You know how evil she is, and everything she did to me—but I still find myself missing her so much it’s crazy. It’s been nearly two years, but I still think about her—a lot. The girl I was with last night. The girl I met at a party two weeks ago. Your roommate—gosh, i’m so tired.” He sadly groans, hiding his face behind his palm. Oh, how you wish to take away some of the pain he feels.

“I think.. I think you just need to stop pushing it away, Jungkook..” You softly speak, your palm caressing his shoulder to his arm in sympathy. Jungkook let out another sigh, resting his palm over yours, eyes filled with frustration over himself. “I think the more you are trying to stop thinking about her, the less you are able to overcome it. Just let it go. Confront it. Confront everything that reminds you of her, and tell yourself that you are slowly but surely overcoming the hunch.”

Jungkook silently nods for a while zooming out to the street, until at one point he slowly squints his eyes on you, full of suspicion. You choose to look away, trying to be nonchalant of his suspecting gaze.

“You just want me to allow your friend to go to the party so you will have a companion to meet Seokjin, right?”

Well, you should know you are going to be caught red-handed, but it should not this fast, though. Are you that obvious or it’s just another episode of Jungkook knowing you better than you do? “You know how much I need to meet him, Jungkook! You are my friend, you should help me with this. I need her as my support.” You defend yourself, arms folded in front of your chest in agitation. You are desperately in need of Lia there, so at least when you embarrass yourself in front of a cheering crowd—or worst, Seokjin himself—you will have support that helps you get into that taxi and drive yourself to the nearest cliff. You won’t even expect Jungkook to be there for you, he must be off somewhere fucking bimbos and that’s just how less you expect of him.

“Hey, I can be your wingman to score him too! Are you kidding me? I am his kind, I know how to get you to him better than that friend of yours.” Jungkook scrunch his nose in distaste of your doubts about him. You scoff loudly, pushing your cold coffee away so you or Jungkook’s slob trait will not nudge or drop it to pieces mid argument. That surely happened before, and you do not want another dirty look thrown by the waitress at the both of you for causing troubles, yet again.

“Stop kidding me. First, you are not his kind. He is not a fuckboy. And what would happen if I go there with you are first, you missing at twenty minutes mark and off fucking some girl on the upstair bedroom or even worse, in the restroom and I’ll just be foolishly standing in the corner like fucking nerd who miss her literature club meeting with expectation to meet a cute, faithful guy in some dumb frat parties, fell in love and get married to happily ever after. Or second, you ignore the girls thirsting over you to accompany me and just an hour, you off to get a drink and those dumb girls will kidnap me and feed me to the lion. I don’t see any positive scenario over you, accompanying me to the party. No thanks.”

Jungkook is surely bewildered over the scenario you just play out to him. You take a deep breath, realize you have been spitting out so many words in such a short span of time. You are quite proud of that talent, though.

“That’s… strangely detailed.”

You roll your eyes, looking at the watch on your wrist. Only ten minutes left and both of you need to run to the first class. “We need to get going now. Let’s go, you dumb jock.”

Jungkook sighs, following your step, resting a few bills on the table. “It’s my turn paying now. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure you want to wear that?”

Listening to Lia’s queries for the nth time, you sigh and go inside the bathroom to change into your comfy house clothes. You have been trying to find the perfect dress that is the perfect balance of classy and slutty since three hours ago—exactly right after you ran home from your afternoon class. But yet it seems like no dress is right, one makes you look too slutty, or another which makes you like a freaking nun amongst the girl in the party, or another one which make your butt looks massive or one that is too tight you know you can’t even breathe if you wear that to the party. And who are you even kidding? You are putting too much effort for a party that most likely will not even realize you are there. You know that you are not that excessively pretty like some girls that hangout with Seokjin and Jungkook’s frat—yes, you are not far on the other side either, but it’s still a valid point.

“I’m done. I’m just wearing anything to the party and if Seokjin can’t see me, he can kiss my ass. Probably gonna die alone anyway, why do I even try...” Your groan was muffled to the pile of clothes on your bed. Lia hisses at your sudden discouragement, she wakes up and launches a slap on your butt.

“Nuh-uh! You know how important this is to you, Y/N. You gotta try, or you’ll regret it forever!” Lia shakes you again, but you are still groaning against the clothes. Seeing how long this may drag and you still haven’t even done your hair, she has no choice but to drag you from bed until you are thrown on the floor with a loud bump.

“Ah! It hurts!”

“I know it hurts but you’ll be thanking me in the next five years when you are married to Seokjin and pregnant with his third kid.”

“Now that’s just forward. And delusional. Seokjin is married to me? Seriously, like he even wants to deal with such a mess.” You pout while rubbing on your hurting elbow due to the unexpected fall. Even with such a small frame Lia cages animalistic power it’s unbelievable. “And I don’t even want to get married that fast! I still need to open my restaurant, I haven’t even met Liam Neeson, travel the world—”

“Wait-wait, hold on. Why Liam Neeson?”

“Because he is hot. Like real hot. Have you seen Narnia? That is one god-carved voice, damn! How I wish I could have a man with a voice like Liam. In Taken! He is so hot and protective and do you know that in Star Wars—”

Lia quickly shuts you by throwing a glittery dress to your face, disgust coloring her face. “That’s just borderline daddy kink and I hope you are well aware you are fucking weird.”

You grimace. “No argument here.”

9pm, and both you and Lia finally arrive at the large mansion which you recognize must be Hoseok’s. You check the text Jungkook sent this morning about the location’s address once again, quickly scrambling out of the car after muttering thanks to the driver to enter the huge, fancy house. Lia holds you by the waist, giving it a short squeeze of support seeing how jittery you have become since the taxi arrived. “It’s okay. You look beautiful, and Seokjin will be crazy not to see you.”

“Thanks.” You huff a breath, trying to muster a little bit confidence in your steps. It is half-working, you have to admit.

It’s still early, yet the party is crazy enough you can’t even believe it. Every corner is busy with their own games and activities, the bass blaring in your ear until you’re this close to temporary deafness, and the outside of the house is a large outdoor pool with people laughing and girls with hot bod and bikinis. Just the perfect recipe of the best night everyone will regret—or maybe it’s just you.

You already had your fair share of parties, and you have to admit that it’s not your thing. The free booze, though? Tempting. You are trying to look at the better side of the whole ordeal. Even if you fall short and embarrass yourself in front of your crush, you get the eternal consolation of booze to help you kick the shame away. Nothing screams adult like pushing your problem away with the help of alcohol, right?

You check yourself against the reflection on the nearest mirror to you, restlessness creeping inside your head. Damn, you seriously are just a sack of old potatoes compared to these girls in clad dress and high stilettos which will surely be able to stab and kill someone. You should just pack it up and go home, really.

“Hey! I know that face, Y/N. No! We are not backing down. I did not just spend five hours of your whiny ass complaining what to wear for you to be this defeated without even trying!” Lia quickly pushes you away when you are about to run out the door for your life. You frown, ready to let out some whiny complaints when she pushes your unknowing ass away, right into someone’s arm.

From the countless people inside the freaking party you just had to fall to Seokjin’s arm. God must be joking.

Looking straight into his beautiful, sparkling eyes, it seems like your mind is completely wiped like new, and you have the trouble of speaking your mind. His warm arms are around your shoulder, keeping you stable on your feet and this might be the nearest you have been to the taste of death.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I think you fell and I just caught you...” Seokjin smiles politely, eyes crinkled into a smile and you are still in the midst of inner conflict of speaking out anything. Out of realization how annoying your act must have been to him, you jumped feets away, desperate to keep a distance. You are really this close to running away, but do not want to be perceived like a total moron especially to him, so you let out a thin, nervous smile.

“T—thank you for catching me.” You breathily murmur, feeling shy. How can someone not be? God, is he beautiful. His fluffy hair is styled nicely, he is wearing such a simple attire, a blue loose shirt and black denim but damn did he wear it like nobody’s business.

“No problem.” He lightly shakes his head, but a sudden realization comes to his mind as he inches closer to you, eyebrows scrunched together in question. You unconsciously lean further away from him, heart drumming fast in your chest. “I think I’ve seen you before. In my Taekwondo’s match. Right?!”

Never in a million years have you thought that Seokjin might notice—and even remember your face amongst the large crowd, watching him in his battles for your college’s team. You are always hidden, and as plain as ever whenever you watch him from the bleachers, and would run away the second whistle blows signaling the end of the competition. But now he told you he recognizes you?! Gosh, what are the odds. You have never felt so shameful and concious of your own skin before.

“Um… Yes! But you have nothing to worry, I’m not a stalker or anything, I just really like taekwondo and I like watching you—I mean the team!” You shyly correct yourself, internally punishing yourself for the accidental slip. You are such a humiliation and frankly, still too sober for this. What will you trade to forget the encounter never happened and drown yourself in booze in every form—drinks, beer, jelly shots, whatever.

“No! Of course not.” He chuckles, amused like he is really content to see you, nonchalant to how uncomfortable you are with your skin right now. You feel like a doofus, making a fool of yourself. “I really want to talk to you every time a match is finished, but you always bolt away after, I don’t have the chance to.” Then he dare to fucking winks. “But I’m glad we can finally meet here.”

You are too confused with every act and word coming out of his mouth—did he just flirt with you?—so your reply is simple, and desperate. “Wow. Sorry, I seriously need a drink right now. Can you hold that thought?”

Seokjin chuckles and nods, his palm hovers over your back, guiding you. “I’ll come with you.” You don’t really know why he has to follow just for you to shortly grab a drink, and then he points to his empty glass. You nod knowingly, trying to focus on the booze bar you are heading to. The bar is crazy extravagant for a frat party, with the bartender pouring mixed drinks on the side. You silently gasp. Damn, Hoseok is really that rich, huh?

He continues with a cheeky smile. “I have been looking forward to talking to you since forever, and you just bolted out. Is it wrong of me to be scared you are going to pull the same trick again?”

Wow, you don’t even know what he means by that, so you let out a nervous chuckle as an answer. It is like you are back to third grade, having your first crush giving you hope by his words and you are busy configuring and overthinking everything like fucking detective conan. But you refuse to get your hopes up, your brain desperately screaming to fill your glass with your favorite whiskey. You offer him the bottle, and he smirks and receives it while purposefully brushing your hand in the process. Fuck Kim Seokjin. What happen to such a polite boy you heard so much about?!

“So, are you going to tell me about yourself?” He smiles, and your finger fidgets in nerve, quickly taking a whole gulp of the alcoholic drink, praying it to quickly intoxicate your mind so you can speak clearly in front of such handsome face. Well, for one booze is the best recipe for you during these times.

“I don’t know what you want to know about me, Seokjin. I’m just an ordinary freshman.” You smile, your teeth grazing your lower lips. But one thing you notice is that Seokjin is silent, his eyes following the movement of your bitten lips like he is completely bothered by it.

“Do you like taekwondo? I see you a lot in the match.” He starts with a simple question, while taking a large portion of his drink down his throat and ending it with a sigh. “When you were watching, you looked like you knew your stuff. It’s TMI, but I can’t help but to find it’s totally, totally hot.”

“So you are watching me watching people during a Taekwondo match?” You bravely shoot, and Seokjin let out a chuckle. You do not know what has gotten on him—or you, even at that point. What you know is that you feel your head is light, but your body is hot and bothered by just looking at him. Seokjin just literally flirts on you and all you wanna do is to jump on him and quench the thirst rubbing in the middle of your thigh.

At the time, you notice that Seokjin is bluntly staring at your lips, his eyes turned dark and heavy with lust, and his face literally inching closer and closer to you. You lick your lips, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. Is it really going to happen? Seokjin somehow, against all odds, finds you hot and that's it—you’re going to kiss him like that? Just how many years of luck do you have to sacrifice for this?

“Seokjin! Here you are. Hoseok is looking for you.”

The strange sexual tension that filled the air between you and Seokjin with your lips just inches away from each other is broken by the dumbest fuck of a best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Seokjin immediately flinches, moving away and you instinctively turn your head, your hands scratching your nape out of shyness. You swear you are going to kill your best friend after this. How dare he interrupt the moment you have been dreaming for such a long time now?!

“Thanks for that, man.” Seokjin hisses, his words dripping with sarcasm and annoyance of your interrupted session. He turns his regretful eyes to you, hands resting on your shoulder, sliding to your wrist affectionately. You do not know whether it’s just you, but your body feels like it is set on fire with his light , feathery touches. He suddenly grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“I’ll find you later, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

You shyly nod, and Seokjin turns his back on both of you and walks further away to the other side of the gigantic house. After his disappearance, you quickly land a hard punch on Jungkook’s arm in agitation.

“You are fucking idiot and I hate you! How dare you interrupt us like that?! We were just about to kiss, you moron!”

Jungkook frowns, rubbing on the spot you just hit. “Hey! I am doing this for your own good. You are certainly going to regret kissing that guy! He is not that good, you’re better off without him.”

You hisses at his lackluster explanation. “I don’t know what crack you are sniffing, Jeon, but you just told me yesterday to attend this party and bone him. And now you’re pulling this shit?!”

“I know! But I just don’t like it with him. I feel like he’s up to something.” You sigh after listening to his nonsense. Seriously, you can’t believe it. The first time you ever try to flirt and kiss someone you just met, and get a response—from Kim Seokjin, more to emphasize—at a party has to be interrupted by your fuckboy best friend. You have overestimated your luck.

At your sudden silence, Jungkook takes the time to raise his gaze and take in your appearance from head to toe. You are wearing your black sleeveless bodycon dress, the one you once drunkenly bought a year ago and always have been placed on the back of your closet. You compliment your dress with a pair of red heels, fresh from Lia’s closet. Your wavy hair is styled nicely, tied up that exhibits your neck line to the slightest of your collarbone. Your makeup is rather simple, but the red lips is just the perfect end-touch to your appearance today. You are simply beautiful.

“Why are you looking at me like that, you hobo?” You snort when feeling Jungkook’s gaze is too intimidating around your body—you fold your arms protectively on your chest. At your mocking question, Jungkook quickly throws his head somewhere else, sniffling his itchy nose. He seriously needs to catch himself before he erupts and makes a fool out of himself. But one he somehow forgets is that his body is way, way more truthful in speaking his mind than he really is.

“Hey! How was it? Have you scored Seokjin yet?”

On your side, Lia shuffles with a bottle of beer and a knowing smirk. You sigh, shaking your head mournfully. Your wingman nearly yells.

“Why?! I voluntarily shove you too, back then! I saw you guys are chilling together so I decided to grab something for a sec and now you’re telling me he’s gone and you both did nothing?!”

To answer her question, you just vehemently point Jungkook. “This asshole decided to ruin everything. Just when it is about to happen, Lia! His lips were this close.” You mourn your lost chance, mimicking his lips hovering over yours. Jungkook quickly pushes your hand away from your lips with annoyance, eyebrows scrunched together in disgust.

“You are creepy, and I am doing this for the sake of my frat brother. He is better off with someone else.” He pouts, his face looking severely annoyed and red. But it’s not just any kind of red. It’s vermillion, just the way you remember it from your elementary school, along with the childish pout on his lips. Ignoring your previous anger at him, you scrutinize his face closely and shift his face side by side with your palm, and he looks completely flustered. What in god’s name is happening?

“Hey, why are you so red, Jungkook? Are you okay?”

At the sudden attention thrown at him, Jungkook’s face just becomes even redder—if it is even possible. Realizing that he is in a very unfortunate situation at the moment, Jungkook quickly racks his brain for any reason to avoid your pesky questions. “I—I just think it’s too hot in here. Don’t you think so?”

“There’s literally four air conditioners in this room, Jungkook. It’s freezing cold in this place. Who the fuck has four ac in just a living room anyway? Damn you, capitalism!” You hissed, unamused with his lies. Jungkook grins, realizing how idiotic he must have sounded. At your last statement, you are suddenly self-conscious about the coldness in the room, rubbing your bare arms to create friction and warmth. He quickly notices your subtle gesture.

“Are you cold? Here, use my jacket.” Jungkook instinctively offers, not even waiting for your answer and unattaching the fabric of his body. At the kind gesture, you are touched as he seems to always understand you without you even need to say a thing. But when you see he is just wearing a body-fit black shirt underneath the denim jacket he was wearing—clearly, that jacket is going to go either way—you immediately snort. That bitch is just asking for an opportunity to flex the unnecessary muscle in front of the girls there, no need for you to feel flattered whatsoever.

“God, you’re both so fuckin domestic and boring. I’m off finding fun somewhere else, don’t wait for me~” Lia coos, walking to the other side of the house along with her bottle of beer. Well, Lia basically knows her ways in and out of frat parties, so you are not worried for her. If somehow Seokjin does not find his way back in thirty minutes, you promise yourself to hitch an uber as fast as you can and bolt out of that shitshow without making a scene.

As the girl who somehow looks exactly like his ex exits their space, Jungkook reverts his focus back on you. You are busy looking anywhere else but him, your lips clamp on the glass to sip on the beverage. “Aren’t you tired with those heels? Let’s sit somewhere else.” He offers lowly.

You comply either way, somehow feeling a little bit suspicious over Jungkook’s sudden calm demeanor. You know him and how he is at parties. He should not be with you right now, instead joining his dumb jock friends and the girls at the other side playing body shots. This is borderline weird—you don’t want to interrupt him during his fuckboy activities, now both you and Jungkook are seated on the sofa in the corner of the room.

“Are you okay, Jungkook? You are suspiciously silent.”

Jungkook clears his throat again, but all of a sudden loses all remaining composure when your finger delightfully skims his cheek. “And your face is red. There must be something wrong. The last time I saw you like this was—”

Jungkook knows what you are about to say but decided not to. He decided to ignore your suddenly awkward gesture and answers. “It’s not that, I—I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

You suddenly scoop his fingers and squeeze it lightly. “Is it because I am here? I swear Jungkook, you don’t have to accompany me. I’m perfectly fine on my own, you know it.”

“I want to accompany you.” Jungkook denies, not knowing how to speak his mind in any other way. His gaze is filled with unexpected sincerity, you don’t really know how and why. “I attend these parties, meet these people nearly everyday, Y/N. But they don’t have what we have. And now that you here, of course I would rather be with you.”

You don’t know whether it is the alcohol in your spine or the bass thumping likely on your heart, but you clearly feel something about the words. You feel important. You feel needed. And the way Jungkook looks at you right now? You feel like it’s somehow filled with new, raw emotions you never found on him before. The way his fingers are clasped on you—it’s like he is holding it for dear life. You can not deny that you are mildly confused by the sudden tension between you and Jungkook.

“Here you are, Y/N. I’ve been searching for you.”

Seokjin is now standing in front of you and Jungkook, his eyes silently trailing on the fingers intertwined with you and your best friend, but refusing to comment. Realizing how awkward the moment must have been for the three of you, you swiftly jump on your feet, cheeks slightly reddening out of shyness while Seokjin still maintains the charming smile on his lips. “Can I take you somewhere else? This party is too loud. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“Mmm.. Okay.” You mutter, trying your best not to glance at Jungkook. You want to avoid adding more fuel to the awkwardness—well, you are too emotionally incapable to face whatever emotion you were having with Jungkook just now. He is just a thoughtful best friend, why are you even dwelling on it like it’s something new in your friendship? And being the coward you truly are, you answer the offer of Seokjin’s hand, following him to the outside without glancing even once at Jungkook. Even if all you can think about is him and what the hell just happened.

It’s been nearly two weeks, but you have yet to receive any message, or call, or anything from Jungkook. It’s not his fault, though—you could have started a conversation yourself, but you always find yourself hesitating while typing words on your screen. Maybe it’s because Jungkook has mostly been the one to start any conversation, and now nearly two weeks has passed since your last encounter and you have no idea how to start. Idiot.

You are still lounging in your bed, mustering yourself to be brave enough to say anything to Jungkook. When suddenly a message arrives, you are startled, swiftly clicking it open. But seeing the sender, you sigh in disappointment. It’s not Jungkook.

From : Seokjin

Hey, you are coming to the practice, right? [12:40]

Do you want to grab a bite after that? I have this coupon I need to use:) [12:41]

Ah, Seokjin. Since that fateful night in the party, you have been frequently hanging out with him. He is a senior in your department—he is even the assistant for some of your classes—so you do meet frequently. It is weird now that you are acquainted with him, he is everywhere, like literally everywhere. Especially because after that night, he asks you to join the taekwondo club based on your interest and previous experience. And who are you to reject? You like Taekwondo, and you like him. Talking about killing two birds with one stone, right?

But now you feel on the edge nearly all the time because your fuckboy best friend is missing in action. You want to tell him everything, but you feel like you have sinned him greatly for ditching him that night. It’s even hard to find out why! All you know that he might just find another girl to fuck with that night, and both of you know that the only thing in first that invite you to the party is because Seokjin is there—even Jungkook propose you to bone him! You seriously hate yourself for feeling this way.

“Jungkook, you are a complete moron!” You hiss, throw the phone to the desk and dip your face to the pillow.

Okay, new plan. It’s better for you to just meet and confront him directly. So tomorrow after class, you are going to meet him after his 8am, and just point and blame him for ghosting your friendship. Well, he is not ghosting, but that’s not the point! It’s a brilliant plan, yet you find yourself strangely terrified for what is about to happen.

Tomorrow morning, you are going to ask Lia to walk to class together, yet you find she is already missing, bed is made and cleaned. It’s weird to see her wake up so early since she is absolutely not a morning person, but you shrug it anyway, expecting to see her in class. Still, even after the professor arrives, you find her regular place beside you is empty. You send her a message, but it is met with no reply. Skipping class is not really rare in her case, so you just silently attend, mind filled with the plan you will execute later on.

After class, as previously planned, you directly head to Jungkook’s faculty. You can remember it vividly, Jungkook’s class for the morning is always running late due to his old as hell professor, who talks extremely slowly and loves to discuss anything but the topic he is supposed to teach, hence your plan. You are going to wait in front of his class, supposedly asking to grab brunch together before accusing him for ignoring you altogether.

But then, what you find while walking on the bridge connecting the two faculties catch you by surprise. It is Lia, talking to a man who's back you easily identify as Jungkook—you can detect those small waist everywhere, hidden cladly in a slim fit dress shirt. Both of them are engaged in serious talk, with Jungkook’s face a little bit tense and Lia’s face looking like she completely had enough.

Lia? And Jungkook? Your eyes must be deceiving you right now.

With all will, you march onto them, and even the fact that they are talking, just the two of them without you is weird enough, they don’t even realize your presence until you are tapping on Jungkook’s shoulder with a suspecting gaze. The moment he finds you, he unconsciously jumps a few steps back with a loud gasp, exactly like whenever he has been caught doing something bad. “Y/N! You’re here!”

“Yes. I was just about to catch you after your class, Jungkook, maybe we can grab a bite together.” The moment you let out those words, you heard Lia snickers and Jungkook immediately throws her a look.

“Finally. You both should eat together! and I don’t know—maybe be truthful at each other? or anything, I don’t care. I’m out of here.” She walks out, not minding your voice calling out to her. You seriously have zero idea what she means, but Jungkook quickly places his hands on both your shoulders—desperate for your focus, his cheeks now colored in bright shade of red.

“Don’t mind her. Let’s go eat.”

You stop your track against Jungkook’s force of pulling you away, scrutinizing his face closer with a worried gaze. “Jungkook, you are acting weird. And you are sooo red. Are you sure you are okay?”

Jungkook hastily nods, pulling you to the place you both usually grab coffee at, not really far from his faculty. On the way, both of you still fall in silence, and one thing your eyes could focus on is his fingers, tightly intertwined on yours—the same gesture he has been doing for around ten years now.

Is it weird that now you definitely do not feel nothing from just holding his hands?

Both of you are seated on your usual spot—near the window inside the coffee shop, right after ordering. “So. Are you going to tell me where you have been these past two weeks?” You questions, sipping on your usual choice of espresso. Jungkook grimaces, his fingers clasping against each other nervously. Not that he expects you to beat around the bush.

“I am just kinda busy. With practice and studying.” He silently answers, eyes still not looking anywhere else but you. And what kind of best friend are you not to notice that?

You nod cryptically, decide against pushing it. Even though skeptic, what he said does seems plausible. “So, what’s up?’

“Just the regular.”

Your left eyebrows raise. “No news on your fuckboy conquest of one night stands?”

Jungkook eyebrows scrunched. “You’re disgusting.”

You are baffled at that. “What?! I am disgusting? Jungkook, you have been explicitly telling me stories about these girls you sleep with for already two years now. What are you, playing coy?“

Jungkook sighs tiredly. Instead of answering, he reaches for your glass of espresso, sipping it before wincing due to the bitterness—like a fucking moron doing his usual thing. It seems already too familiar, so you just shrug it and focus on the initial topic instead. “I just… I haven’t been sleeping with anyone these past two weeks, okay?”

You send him a cryptic look, and Jungkook complains in frustration. “I am not lying! I am not an animal, okay? I am tired sometimes, and I am allowed to not do that anymore.”

“Jungkook, there is no way you are not going to parties and not sleeping with these girls. You have been doing these for two years. What gives?” You push, as you know there must be something he is hiding from you. Jungkook sighs, looking at you with a gaze filled with strange emotions.

“I—I haven’t been to parties too. Look, I am just not feeling it, okay? I just.. I just needed a break.”

Looking at Jungkook, it is difficult to even imagine him not doing all his usual popular jock activities. And now he told you he hasn’t been to parties for two weeks? It’s really unlike him. He hasn’t missed a single party for these past two years since high school to the point you have a hard time remembering what he used to do on Friday nights. Something must have happened, that’s for certain.

“Do you want to tell me why?” You ask him carefully, your fingers reaching out to his. He looks up at you, something in his face tells you that something indeed has happened. And suddenly, your mind flashes to the event that just occurred. Could it be?

“Does it have anything to do with Lia? This morning, when you met her?”

Jungkook’s eyes bulge, his hands are harshly pulled to his lap, away from you. You can detect his chest pumped, heaving too much air in, eyes nervously scanning away. Too many reactions for a mere ‘nothing happened’. “I—I don’t know? What do you mean?”

“It’s weird! You were literally avoiding her before, Jungkook. But then I saw you meeting her alone. What happened? Tell me.” You persuade, determine to get to the end of it. But the answer you are given is only a nervous shake of head, with shade of red slowly creeping in his face. Another trait that you know from Jungkook, is his inability to hide his feelings—at least in front of you.

Due to his prolonged silence for his orders arrival, you silently guess what might have happened with him. A flash of unpleasant image enters your head and you wince internally. God, please don’t let it be true. You even have a hard time to spell those words.

“Jungkook, please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”

Jungkook’s face is flushed in a bright shade of red, as he shakes his head vigorously. “You are crazy. I did not sleep with your best friend.”

A sense of relief washes you. “So tell me what it is! What is it that you can’t possibly tell me? It must be it, or do you expect me to believe you somehow have feelings for her?!” You mindlessly intrude, but now seeing Jungkook’s face is vermillion red and how silent he is for a few seconds after the accusation, you can’t even believe there is a chance it might be true.

You hesitantly approach, voice caught up midways. “You… do you have feelings for Lia?”

Jungkook stares back at you, and you can see a hint of sadness on his eyes. Internally, he is terribly conflicted. He doesn’t know what he can say to you. He already has the answer to your query on the tip of his tongue, clearer than anything else but he cannot do that. It would be unfair to everyone, especially you.

In life, Jungkook believes he is a risk taker—he is taught that way, ever since he was a little kid. Risk is what makes life even better and interesting. But how can he gamble with what you both have right now? He could never take that risk for what you have right now with him. It’s too much in stake—a game not worthy to play, and he knows his chances like the back of his hand. So he forces a smile, mustering all his might to say something that he is well aware does not reflect what he is truly feeling.

“I—I think so..”

Listening to his answer, you nod slowly, not knowing exactly how you feel. You are happy for him—for Jungkook to finally find someone he likes, someone who can get him off the meaningless sex routine he has been accustomed to for awhile now. And truth to be told? Lia is one of the best girls you ever acquaintanced with. If one thing you can ever count on, is that both of your best friends are great people that somehow grealy deserve each other. Lia is pretty, smart, fun to talk and party with, and allegedly good at sex—you don’t really now, it’s just what she claims to be—and Jungkook is the kindest soul out there—even if he is a certified douchebag once in a while—but they really fit each other well.

But is it disappointment in the pit of your stomach?

Noticing how silent you have become, Jungkook quickly takes the opportunity and changes the topic he instantly regrets. “So, how are things with Seokjin? I hear you both are hitting it well.”

Your throat feels constricted, so you clear it, hoping your stupefiedness is unrecognizable. “Yup. He is a good guy. I am now in the Taekwondo club as well, so… yeah I’ve been seeing him a lot too.”

“I am glad you finally got into the club! I remember how much of a pain you are, always go on and on talking about Taekwondo.” He rigidly smiles, eyes still trained on the dish served in front of him, cutting it in pieces. God, he is seriously digging his own grave with this fake supportive best friend shit.

“Yeah, whose fault is it that I got off Taekwondo in the first place, huh?”

Jungkook sighs, resting his utensils on the plate. He is aware of it very well, he knows what a fucking coward he has been since little, which may had forced you giving up on taekwondo—something you really loved. You can’t even imagine how guilty he is about everything. You have been the one thing keeping him sane, yet he always thinks himself on the recipient side of the friendship. And the midst of his current vulnerable state, he feels greatly undeserving of you. Who is he kidding? You might even regret saving him from humiliation on that fateful day, ten years ago.

Sensing that your joke may have not been taken well by Jungkook, you reach out to him, placing your palm on his, trying to soothe the indignation palpable on his face. “Jungkook, I am sorry.. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.. I know. It’s okay.” Jungkook answers, lips pursed into a tight line. You can see that he is indeed piqued, and truthfully, it is your fault. He always blames himself for the time he felt you sacrificed so much for him—like Taekwondo, for example. You convince him that it is not his fault since you can always go back to Taekwondo again—you just choose not to, but he always blames himself, thinking of the what ifs. You should not have brought it up and joked about it.

The silence then ensues, the tension between you and him thickens like you can slice it and choke it down your throat. You were about to apologize again, right when your phone rings and displays Seokjin’s name on the screen .Jungkook definitely saw the name too himself. You are hesitating whether to answer or not, before Jungkook answers it for you rigidly, jaw clenched tight.

“Answer it.”

When you are in the middle of conversation with Seokjin—and unimportant one, Jin is just asking what are you doing because he is bored in the middle of intensive taekwondo training, so you just casually tell him about grabbing a brunch with Jungkook—your best friend quickly flips few bills from his wallet, raising up from his seat. You swiftly hold him back, cutting off the ongoing call without even saying goodbyes. “Jungkook, where are you going?”

“I guess you must be somewhere with Seokjin, right? Let’s go, don’t want to keep the handsome boy waiting.”

The way Jungkook pronounces every word is heavy with sarcasm, and it wounds you. Is he seriously telling you that you are going to ditch him for Seokjin? Dry tears are lounging on the corner of your eyes till your visions are blurry, and it is hard to even breathe. How dare he play that game to you? Does he really think he has any right to treat you like that?

Jungkook must have noticed your contorted face and inevitable tears, and he is quick to apologize. “I am sorry, I didn't mean it like—”

“Save it.” You curtly cut him, slapping a few bills on the table. “It’s my turn to pay now. And you are correct. Thank you for that, I will find that handsome boy right now.”

If Jungkook calls you again, you are unable to hear it. Too pissed off to even breathe, your head feels like it’s about to explode along with tears that are quick to rain on your parade.

After you storm off the brunch with Jungkook, your afternoon class is fortunately cancelled. Instead of going with your words and meeting Seokjin, you decide you are too emotionally exhausted and head back home. So here you are, chilling in your apartment alone, watching netflix and eating popcorn after completing a long nap of five hours straight. Your phone is far ducked inside your room, as you notice Jungkook has blown off your phone for quite a while now, and you are this close to answer it so you throw it away. That bastard definitely deserves a lesson for pulling an unfunny passive aggressive prank like that.

While you are in the middle of refilling your bowl for the second batch of popcorn, your apartment door is swung opened. It is Lia, with a huge triumphant smile on her face. “Look what I brought us!”

You don’t even know the reason why, the moment you are looking at Lia’s face, you immediately remember Jungkook’s claim that he has feelings for this girl. For your best friend. For a girl who looks exactly like his ex. Damn, did you really sound that bitter?

“What is it?” You fake enthusiasm, even if what you really want to do is sigh and roll your eyes.

“Chicken and beer! Not just chicken, this is the exact brand and flavor you like! I think since we rarely hang out nowadays, tonight we can watch bad movies together and eat and drink unhealthy food and drinks we probably will regret in the morning!” She cheerfully shouts, resting the packages of food on the table, running to her room to change into comfy clothes.

You bite your lips, regretting how undeserved she is for your cynical thoughts. You are greatly touched by her mindful gesture. Albeit harsh and sometimes cold, Lia is really affectionate at times, kind and selfless to her friends, especially you. You can’t even count how much she helped you, saving you from an embarrassment or humiliation due your sloppy and forgetful trait. The mind is indeed a dangerous place, and you should limit any possible toxicity that might be planted and grow in it.

So you and Lia jump to watch some chick flick which she always denies to like, but somehow always in tears after. One thing that you might not realize is that you often find yourself staring at her, thinking about how easy it is to like her. She is really the dream girl. Pretty, strong, funny and independent. She’s basically perfect. You even doubt Jungkook deserves her, seriously.

“Honey, another look and I think I might just go gay for you.” Lia sighs, resting the chicken drumstick on the plate. You avert your eyes on the TV, shy of being caught staring. “What is it? Are you falling for me? I swear—”

“No, I just.. Nothing.”

You are silent, busy gulping the beer to hide how flustered you are right now. Damn, are you really that obvious? “There must be something. Y/N, I will not push, but you know you can tell me everything. Nothing will surprise me, seriously.”

You nod, throwing your attention back to the movie. But not even five minutes, the curiosity gets the best of you, so you decide to mum a question to her.

“Lia, what do you think about Jungkook?”

You kind of wish she does not hear you, but it is instantly cancelled since she answers. Yup, she can hear your silly question, loud and clear.

“Jungkook? He is hot, good looking and kind. A little dumb and blabber a little bit too much, but I think it’s manageable.” She nonchalantly answers, suddenly her prodding eyes are thrown at you. “Where does this suspicious question come from?”

“Nothing! I just want to know what you think of him.” You bitterly smile. Yes, definitely that and only that.

Another ten minutes pass and you open another question, still full of hesitation whether it’s best to ask or just keep it to yourself, yet it’s literally killing you so you ask anyway. “Hypothetically speaking. If… I don’t know, Jungkook confesses to you he likes you. Would you accept it?”

Lia looks at you strangely — like you have grown another head, when her face suddenly brightens, an imaginary light bulb practically pictured on her head. A sleazy smile is worn on her lips, her eyebrows wiggling playfully. “Ah! So that is about all this. Finally!”

“Of course! Jungkook is a nice guy, he is kind, respectful, albeit a little annoying and dumb, he is hot, which kinda makes it even. He listens well, and strangely gives good advice.” Lia brightly smiles, literally like the woman who endorses cooking items in the supermarket to middle aged mothers. “I think anyone having a monogamous relationship with that manchild is very, very lucky!”

You do notice how exaggerated and odd her sentence is, but when you are about to reply, few soft knocks are heard on your door. So keeping the words back, you wake up and mindlessly open it.

Well, It turns out to be Seokjin, and he could arguably be the last person you think would be standing in front of your doorstep now.

“Seokjin? What are you doing here, at this time of the night?”

Seokjin answers with a serene smile, his eyes sparkling amidst the dim hallway. “I am sorry to be at your doorstep this late. I just… I just want to talk to you. Is that weird?”

Your heart literally skips a beat at that. Seriously? Seokjin comes to your apartment at 10pm just to talk to you? Is this even real? “You can’t just call me? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but I don’t want to tire you. You just finished your crazy tiring training!”

“I’ve been trying to contact you, but I went into voicemail. So I guess, more reason to meet you, right?” Seokjin shyly smiles, scratching his nape. God, have you ever mentioned that he is really cute? “I hope I’m not a bother.”

“No! Of course not. But my roommate is here. Do you want to go somewhere else? I think one restaurant near here is still open.” You quickly offer and Seokjin agrees with a nod. You are hurriedly about to grab your purse, when Lia walks out to the doorstep, meeting Seokjin.

“Hi! You must be the roommate. I’m Seokjin.” Seokjin offers a hand along with a charming smile. Lia receives it with confusion written on her face.

“Are you both going somewhere?” She asks, puzzled. You slightly run to the door, hoping there is nothing to be discussed amongst the three of you anymore.

“Yes! We are. I’ll be back soon, see you!” You quickly smile and close the door right on her face. Damn, you don’t know what has gotten into you, but you really can’t seem to shake that cautious feeling. It really needs time before you even consider letting Seokjin hang out with your nosy friends. Like Lia, or even Jungkook.

Especially Jungkook.

Jungkook is sitting with Taehyung, his project mate on the corner of a restaurant near your apartment. He has been trying to contact you since afternoon but you still haven’t replied to his call nor messages, it makes him feel guilty beyond words. He shouldn’t have snapped like that at you, you literally did nothing and he blew everything way out of proportion—especially when that dickhead Seokjin called you. And now he is nearly losing his mind, because he doesn’t want to spend another minute in your probable wrath. How can everything be so messed up?

“Dude, stop calling her. She’ll call you soon. Why is this such a big deal?” Taehyung groans when Jungkook relentlessly dial your number once more. He doesn’t even know why, but another call you ignore, he might combust and run to your apartment, begging for reconciliation. He is seriously just that desperate.

The call fails, yet Jungkook is still tapping on the call again button when Taehyung meddles in his pathetic best friend obsession. “Hey, stop! Why are you doing this, dude? You like this girl or what?”

At Taehyung’s accusation, Jungkook was silent. “I don’t know. But I can’t stop, Tae. Or I’ll go crazy.”

Taehyung sighs, giving up and instead going back to his work. As long as the tasks are divided, he would not be bothered by his friend’s crazy fixation towards a so-called-friend. Seriously, why do people even want to monogamously date? It’s such a hassle, and unimportant. Girlfriends are liabilities, and Jungkook of all people should know it!

After being rejected for another three calls, Jungkook finally gives up, slamming the phone on the desk. “I give up. She’ll never answer. Fuck it, I need to work.”

Taehyung glances at that guy trying to focus on the task in front of him. Everyone can see how out of place he is—if there’s a guarantee Jungkook will not land a punch to his precious face, he really wants to tease him right now it is hilarious. Damn, his friend is whipped.

Amongst the silence, Jungkook’s phone suddenly rings. Throwing the thousand page book in his grasps right away, he answers it like a madman—probably without even checking the caller. It must not be the girl of his dreams, since his hopeful puppy face instantly sombers.

“Of course not! How can I, we just got into a fight.”

After listening to the faint caller’s word, his knuckles intimidatingly whiten due, jaw tightening. “Seriously? They are leaving now?”

A few banter and the call ends, but Taehyung can see how bothered the guy is after the call. He is no longer bothered to even pretend he is working, instead his eyes hollow, zooming out to nothingness. But another five minutes, a slight tingling from the entrance bell is heard and Jungkook feels like his heart is about to fall out he instinctively ducks his head. Taehyung tries to steal a look to the source of attention, and it’s you, the girl he has seen a lot previously with Jungkook and Seokjin… Together while holding hands.

Oh, oh. This is bad.

Jungkook really should just storm out. He is never the masochist type, but somehow curiosity gets the best of him so he stays, his work is completely ignored. He focuses on glaring to the other side of the restaurant where you and Seokjin sit near the window, nonchalant to his presence while lively and affectionately talking to each other. And for fuck sake, can fucking Seokjin get his hands off you? It takes everything in his power to ignore the need to slap those dirty paws away.

“Jungkook, we should go..” Taehyung silently pleads, noticing how tense his friend has become since you and Seokjin arrived. But Jungkook is unable to hear or sense anything, was too focused on probing both of you while trying not to be caught.

It is a rather short meal, as you and Seokjin only ordered a dessert to share and Jungkook is irritated. You finished a bowl of ice cream in one sitting and you can’t seriously get a dessert for your own? Disgusting—After approximately thirty minutes, you and Seokjin head out, hand by hand with a sickeningly shy smile on both of your faces.

Jungkook thinks that is the end of it, thank God he can finally breathe. But how wrong he was to even think he will remain unscathed, because as both of you stand in front of the restaurant, Seokjin bravely pulls you closer by the nape and crashes his lips on yours. It feels like a punch to Jungkook’s gut, seeing how blissful both of you are engaged in a sweet kiss, your hands on his cheek and his hands clasped on your waist. There’s the anger, the jealousy raging inside Jungkook’s chest at the moment that it’s even difficult to breathe.

As now both of you and Seokjin have left the scene, Taehyung forces himself from the tense situation to steal a glance at Jungkook. Just seeing him—staring at the ceiling with no expression whatsoever—radiates the devastation and frustration he is currently experiencing. God, Taehyung hopes he will never have to experience that kind of emotion in his life.

During ten years of friendship with Jungkook, you never knew what it feels to have him avoid you. But now that you are exactly being treated like a plague by him, you wish you were warned beforehand because it fucking hurts. And you have no idea how or why, and you have no one to console your loss — not even Seokjin, or Lia. Well it mostly because you don’t want them to realize how fucking dependent you are to Jungkook, it’s pathetic.

“Kitten, you are spazzing out. Are you sure you are okay?”

Seokjin’s words are nearly lost on you, and the moment his hand is on yours, you unconsciously flinch. He is now examining you, with a gaze full of worry.

“If you are feeling not okay, we can just go home.” Seokjin kindly offers, but you shake your head fervently, not wanting to wallow again in your sadness. You can’t take this away from Seokjin, when it’s his dearest fellow frat brothers—especially the seniors who are having the party. Seokjin as the angel he is will not let you be alone in your apartment.

Since the day you meet Jungkook for brunch, a week has passed and it seems like you and him are in the middle of a cold war. It’s not like you are not speaking to each other, but every word coming from him speaks distance and you are tired and just stop trying—yet it doesn’t lessen the pain. And now you are going with Seokjin for his frat party, and you know Jungkook will be there—it might be the reason you are simultaneously eager and despise going to the party. You are terribly anxious about facing him, but you can’t back down when you know you did nothing wrong.

In front of the frat house, Seokjin holds your hand and brushes his lips to your temple as an encouragement. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

You throw your gaze at Seokjin’s side profile. Seriously, what did you do to deserve him? He is seriously the kindest soul out there, always looking for your best interest. He never hesitates to go big for you, yet you can help but to feel guilty. He is too kind. Too perfect. And you can’t shake this feeling of undeserving and owning him everything to him.

The moment your feet step into the party, your eyes instantly fall to someone so familiar yet so strange—Jungkook. He is leaning on a sofa, talking animatedly with two girls on either side, leeching to him like they are willing to take turns to suck him dry. You roll your eyes in disgust. What were you expecting? That Jungkook might go celibate and seriously get a grip on his life? You must be drunk. That bastard can’t even face the fact that he likes someone and actually does something about it.

Yes. He likes Lia. But being a total fuckboy is not what someone should do when he seriously likes someone, right? You just want the best for him, not wanting Jungkook to waste another time when he can have someone he truly likes instead of engaging in another one night stand.

While Seokjin is chatting with his group of friends, you excuse yourself to grab a drink. He, as the gentleman he is, offers to accompany you, but you refuse—mentioning it will only take a short while. And after finally settling in the kitchen where you can finally have a space for your own, you heave few deep breaths. You do not know exactly why, but being surrounded among strangers always sends you to a nervous bundle.

That’s exactly the reason why you always avoid going to parties. You wanted to tell Seokjin about the anxiety you feel, but you feel like it’s too much of a burden to throw on him so you just swallow everything and hope for the best—but now you regret everything. At least previously, you have Lia and you are assured she is going to take care of you. Not that you don’t think Seokjin will not, but the trust issue you have for nearly everyone is not going to go away when you literally only know him for one freaking month.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Suddenly, a familiar voice is heard and you look behind, seeing Jungkook with a worried gaze, his palm soothing your back. “You don’t really look good. Does the party bother you?”

You bask in his appearance, and sense the anxiety building up inside your head crashes into a loud sob. Seeing such a familiar face, worried about your well-being somehow instantly relieves you, and the emotion is excessive and you inevitably feel the urge to cry.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” Jungkook whispers, pulling you inside his arms and enveloping you with the ever-so-familiar warmth. His fingers forming circles in your back, just the way he used to calm you on every rainy day, while you clutch into his jacket for dear life.

“Why do you even come here, you idiot? You should have let me know.”

His ignorant statement somehow flares the anger inside you, and you irritatedly push him away with both your palms. Jungkook is a jerk, and you do not deserve any of this. “How can I let you know, Jungkook? When it’s crystal clear you are avoiding me. I haven’t heard anything other than your one two word messages. I can’t even call you!”

The guilt is definitely painted on his face, confirming a guess that has been going around your head. He truly was avoiding you. “I—I don’t mean it like that…”

“What wrong did I do, Jungkook? How can you do this to me?” You whimper sadly. All the frustration inside you is coming out. “I know I was wrong, but this is not how we resolve things, Jungkook. You know it. And you can’t even tell me what’s wrong directly to my face, or even try to reconcile our friendship, instead you go back to partying, eye fucking two girls at the same time when I’m standing right here. Do you even know how it makes me feel?”

“It’s not that!” Jungkook defends himself, feeling the obnoxious guilt seeping inside his heart. He feels at fault now seeing how heartbroken you look, and the fact that he is the one causing them. It’s like he is finally awoken, that he has been selfishly trying to redeem himself from a one-sided love for his childhood best friend without thinking about how you feel. But in his defense, he thought you would be okay!

“I...I just thought now that you have Seokjin, you won’t be needing me no more. He seems to be such a better companion than I am. And I know you like him so much, Y/N, I feel like...”

“Hey. Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, Seokjin appears in the kitchen, staring at both you and Jungkook standing in front of each other with somber looks on each of your faces. He definitely was about to say something, but like he sobers up and puts up a thin smile and reaches out to you. “You take a long time to get a drink, so I thought I should check up on you.”

You quickly grab the nearest bottle of beer, giving a short, civilized smile to Jungkook to handle the pain throbbing inside his chest. You desperately need space away from him, swearing that you would do anything to avoid breakdown in the middle of a frat party filled with tons of strangers. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, Seokjin! Get your girl, we are going to play!”

That trademark voice was definitely Hoseok’s, gesturing you to join the circle of group with countless shots in the center—which is literally a recipe for a disastrous night. Seokjin is about to wave him off, intending to focus on your well being instead, but that is seriously the last thing you want to do right now. All you need is alcohol—lots of them and avoid whatever internal conflict you are having since that’s what you do best. Hence, you pull the older guy closer to the group cheering them on, forcing him to sit down beside you.

“Hey, we don’t have to do this if you are not comfortable.” Seokjin consoles, his hands smoothing on your thigh.

“But I want to!” You fake a cheer, pretending to sound enthusiastic. “I haven’t done this in a long time. I wanna do this again.”

Jimin—one of the other frat brothers, is counting the people and after clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. “We need one more. Hey, Jungkook, come here!”

You quickly snap your head towards your so-called best friend, who just came out from the kitchen from your previous unpleasant encounter. Just a glance and you can see how messed up he looks right now. Jungkook seriously was about to flip Jimin off, instead wallowing himself in sadness and regret. But seeing you sitting in the circle, he gets no other choice but to accept the offer. All that he can think about is the annoying frat buddies of his who might force you to do the things you despise, along with your occasional social anxiety that might ruin everything for you. He will never forget himself if they happen without him there, when he had the opportunity to. He’ll do it, regardless of your current distaste for him.

“Okay! So we are going to play Never Have I Ever!” Jimin shouts, and your stomach dips in nerves. God, are you seriously going to do it? But then you feel a certain concerned stare is directed towards you, and your pride forces you to act nonchalant. You are not going to let Jungkook think he needs to babysit you again. The previous thing in the kitchen is humiliating enough, you don’t need another second.

“It’s the usual. if you have done it before, drink a shot! Don’t worry, we have abundant alcohol supply and our dearest freshmen right here, kindly volunteer to refill the glasses.” You emphatically look amongst the fellow freshmen, standing outside the circle with bottles of alcohol in their hands. God, this reminds you why frat people are seriously the worst.

“I’ll start! Okay. Never have I ever sexted someone during class.”

A series of groans are heard in the circle, few people—some that you know are Taehyung, Hoseok, and even the smartest of the frat boys, Namjoon bottoms up their respective drinks. Seriously? They pay tuition to sext during class. What a disgrace.

And of course Jungkook’s glass is empty too. What did you expect?

Next is Hoseok. “Never have I ever faked an orgasm before!”

Well, that one is on you, but you are just glad to be able to finally drink. And damn is it good to finally have alcohol buzzing inside your system—it’s been way too long. After drinking his own, Seokjin offers to exchange your empty glass into a full one. You send a thankful smile his way.

“Never have I ever sent a nude to someone.”

Well, that's correct on your previous relationship with a dickhead in your high school. Wow, you feel the slight kick, but since your tolerance is quite high, your tongue still craves for more.

“Never have I had a threesome before.”

Your eyes curiously find Jungkook, as he bottoms up his third glass of the game, with only a few of the people there drink—Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and one of the unknown girls. Not that you did not expect it, but you find yourself mildly uncomfortable and somehow disappointed with the facts. He is Jungkook. You should have known it.

“Never have I ever roleplay mommy / daddy kink during sex.”

You detect Seokjin shyly drinking his glass, and you fake a gasp. The alcohol on your spine and the great atmosphere are a success in bringing up your mood. “Wow, I knew it! It’s all so clear, you must have daddy kink!” You let out a belly laugh as he softly pinches your waist, still abashed to the new found fact. What you miss is Jungkook shooting daggers both your ways and Taehyung on his side giving him a few comforting taps on the back.

“Never have I ever liked someone else when I was in a relationship!”

The question somehow kills every fun you have, as you silently recall your previous relationships. There was definitely something on your mind, but you quickly pushed them back. No. It did not make sense and still does, and it was something you chose to bury a long time ago. Pretending it never exists is way easier.

But when you straighten your back to regain your sense, your eyes instantly find Jungkook sipping on his alcohol whilst glaring at you, before throwing his back and bottoming it up. Not only that, even after he slams the glass back on the table he is still giving you the same intent stare. What does he want from you? If he is trying to mess with your mind it is not working—so you faked nonchalance, waiting for the next question, yet your mind is busy thinking about who might be on the receiving end of Jungkook’s feelings while he was in a relationship with his bitch of an ex.

The game goes on for another round, and boy was it a mess. As time goes by, the questions are getting out of hand, until a point you seriously think you need to see your therapist due to how traumatic the questions are. During the game you only drink five glasses, which is still not enough for you—and Seokjin, who apparently has a great alcohol resistance as well. The game ended when Hoseok and Taehyung were hugging each other with two bottles of vodka between them, noisily faking smooches sound to each other.

When Seokjin offers to walk away from the rainsacked table, one of the friends whom you recognize as Yoongi holds him back with a tactful smile. “Hey, Seokjin! I’m bored, Let’s play!”

“Yoongi, I think that’s enough play. I think me and Y/N are just going to talk.” Seokjin calmly refuses, when Jungkook comes to Yoongi's side, resting his arm on the smaller man with his face bright red, looking totally buzzed.

“Ugh, that’s so boring! Why don’t we just play a game!”

You snort when you can smell his breath reeking with booze. No wonders though, he only missed two shots during that godforsaken game. “Jungkook—”

“No! I want to play!” He childishly pouts again. Here goes Jungkook acting like a nine year old whenever he is drunk. You roll your eyes agitatedly. Can he grow up already? “I want to beat you and this boyfriend of yours. Let’s play beer pong!”

“That’s a great idea, Jungkook! I think for the prize the winner can ask the loser for anything.” Yoongi shows his gummy smiles forming a smirk. Seokjin was about to discard the offer when his friend cleverly ignited another fire. “What, you don’t think you can win? Or do you just don’t get the nerves to? Too scared to be beaten down in front of your girlfriend?”

Somehow the conversation is loud enough that it attracts people, and now everyone is wooing the provocative statement from Yoongi. He has been silent throughout the previous game, and you don’t even know why he is so keen about playing beer pong with you and Seokjin. Can’t he just ask someone else instead? But you are assured, since one thing you learned from athletes like Seokjin, he is not easily provoked by such cheap statements.

“You are on.” He grimaces as you gape, not expecting the sudden plottwist. How can he just approve? Damn him, you seriously do not want anything to do with these frat boys! “But I swear to god if you lose, I am going to force you to kiss this manchild for fucking five minutes in front of everybody.”

“Well that’s not really a punishment if I will enjoy it, but go on.” Jungkook drunkenly shouts, Yoongi palpably shudders beside him. The crowd laughter goes wild, as other freshmen—you seriously really feel bad for them now—sets up the red solo cups on the table. Your head spins in confusion, as you literally have not once played beer pong before. It’s a lost cause, and you are going to be punished by those evil spawns!

“Seokjin, I seriously can’t play for shit!” You hisses in worry while Seokjin smiles as an assurance.

“No worry, Y/N. I am a reigning champion of beer pong is this godforsaken frat. We will surely win.” He holds you by the shoulder. You send a judging gaze to Jungkook as he pretends to look nonchalant, confidently rubbing his palm together. Damn, you really want to smack him in that idiotic drunk ass face of his. What a jerk! You just hope Jin is truly as good as he claims, because if not, you are completely, utterly fucked. And not even a good one.

The first thing you did wrong was to believe Seokjin is just as good as his words, because Yoongi—who you just knew is the captain of the basketball team—completely triumphs him through every shot. And you already in peace with the fact that your aiming skill is the worst thing that could happen to you, so there goes scoring zero. That bastard Jungkook, somehow amidst the drunkenness is able to score a lot as well—probably due to the fact that he also plays football. Now that you think about it, the game itself does not make sense. And not only that you lose, the glasses you shove down your throat are quite a lot, to the point you can finally feel the buzz of alcohol in your spine. Just fucking perfect!

“Yes! We win!” Jungkook gleefully shouts, seeing the last red cup in front of your table has the shiny yellow ball in it. Seokjin sighs in defeat, quickly taking the last glass and drinking it, completely forfeited. You groan, rubbing your aching temple. This is gonna be rough.

“Wow! Do we finally have the winner here?!” Yoongi shouts with mirth, as the crowd woo. “Well, I don’t want to hold you back, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I am just giving you a taste of your medicine. You can now make out with the bride.” Everyone snickers, and you are too shy to even look at Seokjin. “But we don’t want porn here, so just three minutes?”

“Are you okay with this? I can make him stop.” Seokjin asks calmly, as Yoongi snickers about his friend’s cringey thoughtfulness. Well now that everyone’s looking at you, you ain’t really got any choice, right? So you hesitantly nod as a permission, before Seokjin encloses his lips on you, and all you can sense is the deafening shouts of the crowd.

And Jungkook’s deflated back while exiting the room.

Two hours after the last disastrous beer pong and a three-minutes exhibitionist makeout session with Seokjin, you are shocked to still find yourself sitting at the frat party. Seokjin has asked you multiple times if you want to head home, but you refuse, feeding him lies about somehow still enjoying the party. Truthfully, you don’t even know what he is holding you back. You stopped drinking after the game, instead drinking lots of water to avoid a bad hangover in the morning. The party is dull, especially when you are no longer drinking and alone—Seokjin is asked by a few fellow final year friends to join them for a drink outside, so you assure him you’ll be okay staying back. All you do now is keep an eye on your so-called best friend, shoving alcohol down his throat like there’s no tomorrow. There were few girls around him, but the way Jungkook was not having it and instead focusing on the drinks—his nonchalance probably bore them so they fled, locking on other frat boys as targets. It is only Taehyung now with him, who looks just as drunk as he is. Literal dumbasses.

Amongst the loud bass thumping inside the room, your phone vibrates. You quickly excuse yourself from a couple who is now making out beside you—god, you seriously thought the girl was interested in talking to you before, but now she just ignores you while shoving her tongue down the boy’s throat!—and walks out to pick up the call. Against your expectation, it is Jungkook’s brother, Junghyun on the other side of the call..

“Y/N! Y/N, I am so glad you pick up!” Junghyun shouts loudly, sounds greatly relieved after listening to your greetings. You chuckle, realize it has been quite a long time since you heard from him. You desperately need to visit him sometimes, instead of constantly hanging out with his idiot younger brother.

“Hey, do you know where Jungkook is? We actually have to fly to Busan tomorrow morning, so we expect him to be home now. He even brought the car with him!” Junghyun shouts filled with stress, then you scrunch your eyebrow in confusion. He will fly tomorrow morning, so why did he even bother to come to the party? You scoff in disbelief.

“Yes, oppa. I am in the same party with him, but he is not looking real good.” You answer, looking inside the frat house. Well, not that his brother is unaware of Jungkook’s current trait of drinking and partying—not that he supports it—but you just think that he would be more responsible in his choices, and the your disappointment at him is vivid as a day. Making his family worried, all because he just wants to party which he nearly does every week? It’s shallow even for him. “But I’ll get him home now, no worries.”

Junghyung release a relieved sigh. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you!”

After a shot goodbye, you close the call and furiously march inside the frat house, right to Jungkook’s side. He is still drinking, but now looking severely drunk while unreasonably laughing with Taehyung, and now Jimin as an addition. Three drunk guys are never a good combination. “Jungkook, you fucking idiot, let’s go home!”

With that Taehyung whistle loudly, tapping Jungkook on the back fervently, pepping him. “It’s Y/N! God, finally she is asking you to get something-something!” You scrunch your eyebrows at the drunk ass guy with a reddened face. You are earnestly curious for what booze he is having so you can avoid drinking it forever.

“You want to go home? Let’s go home, babygirl.” Jungkook lowly whispers whilst standing up, but before you can even react to such provocative words, he limps—probably dizzy from consuming too much alcohol. You circle his arms on your shoulder, helping him cause you are certain he is unable to walk on his own now.

Limping to the outside of the house at the best speed you can do, you find his car is parked a few meters from where you both stand. You grumble, swearing that you would keep a tab in every kindness you give to this unthankful moron.

“Hmm, you smell nice.” Jungkook whispers, the tip of his nose settles on the crook of your neck, brushing it to your skin repetitiously as he hums in delight. All of a sudden you feel like it is hard to breath, your nape hair standing from such impulse. Damn, how can he take so much reaction out of you? It’s totally unfair! “I love your smell, babygirl. I wish I could smell you everyday.”

“Jungkook, I smell like booze, smoke and sweat. And what the fuck is wrong with you!” You hiss, trying to calm your irregular heartbeat. And you can always trust Jungkook to somehow flirt with you in the middle of his drunken antics. “I need to get you home, Jungkook. Don’t make me throw you on the street, okay?”

Listening to your cold answer, Jungkook pouts, his arms fold on his chest. The luring persona he had is now replaced to the childish one, and you can’t believe you have to deal with it now. “You are being a meanie to Jungkook! You have to apologize!”

Boy did he mean it, because he is now refusing to enter the car until you apologize. You sigh in distress — but some part of you do enjoy the cute banter with your drunk best friend. You are definitely going to tease him about this after he is sober. “Okay! I apologize, Jungkook. I won’t throw you away, and I will get you home safely. Satisfied?” He nods with a foolish smile.

Then you realize that you don’t know where he places his car keys at, so you ignore the warning in your head and search his pockets, trying to disregard that he is wearing tight-ass pants that force you to feel him up somehow. God, you can’t even shake the embarrassment creeping to your cheek. Where the hell is that key?!

“Y/N, do you seriously want to do it here? I want out first time to be in bed, please.” Jungkook politely says, like he did not just imply about sleeping with you — instead asking for a candy. You whimper, greatly embarrassed even if you know it’s only a drunken act. He does not mean it in any way possible, so the flutters inside your heart should stop! You curse yourself, despising how his words are now affecting your wellbeing.

After finding the key in his left back pocket, you open the door to him and he kindly obeys, but you take the chance and purposefully hit him in the head with the door. Serves him right! As Jungkook winces while bearing the physical pain, you gladly saunter to the driver's side, turning on the car and heading it to Jungkook’s address—which you already remember like your own, located not really far from university.

Few minutes pass in silence, so you think Jungkook already fell asleep, when a sudden question is heard and throws you away to shock.

“Do you like kissing Seokjin?”

“What the fuck—” You look at him, thinking he is joking but you find him staring back at you, eyes dead serious while his face is painted with no trace of mirth whatsoever. It sends you jitter and nerves all over your body. “Jungkook, I don’t understand why you are asking that.”

“I just want to know if he is a good kisser or not.”

“He doesn’t need to be a good kisser to make me like kissing him.”

You heard Jungkook’s breath hitched like it’s so hard to believe. “So you like kissing him?”

“That’s beside the point, Jungkook. I am just stating a fact cause your logic is flawed.”

You most definitely underestimated the level of distressfulness in his question when Jungkook literally growls, not liking the mind games you are playing on him. “I’m serious. Do. you. like. kissing. him. or not!”

“I don’t know why you are asking that, since it’s literally you who asks for the fucking beer pong game. Not to mention, it’s you who wants me to bone this guy, Jungkook.” You whisper, reminding him of the day he offers you to come to Hoseok’s birthday party. “That question is weird, I am not answering that.”

“I regret that day, everyday…” You hear him mutter silently while looking outside the window. You quickly warn yourself to avoid overthinking it. It’s unhealthy, and you’ve been here before! Better to turn off your feelings before everything gets messy on your side.

“Why do you even have to be bad at beer pong?! It’s just shooting fucking ball to a cup. How bad can you be to not even score a point?!” Jungkook childishly huffs, and you take a few deep breaths to stop yourself from landing a punch to his devilishly handsome drunk face. What you are going to do is ignore him, like an adult you truly are.

But the silence is too much and you just want to talk to him, hence opening up a new topic. “Jungkook, you know you have to leave for Busan tomorrow. You shouldn’t be partying the day before. Have you even packed?”

Jungkook looks at you and sighs, like he is mentally and physically drained—well, as he should from drinking that much. “How can I, when there’s a chance you are going to the party as well.”

You raise your eyebrow, unsure. “What are you saying?”

Jungkook scoffs in disbelief when grasping how clueless you actually are. “I don’t know what fucking Seokjin has asks you to believe, but I am still your best friend, Y/N. Since we were kids. I know you like the back of my hand, I know how you hate parties, how you dislike being around strangers, and I know how dangerous it is to be with these frat boys.”

He pauses. “And frankly, I just can’t trust Seokjin. Even with ten years of friendship, I’m still finding new, wonderful things about you and you expect me to trust a fucker who only knows you for a month? Seriously. I only trust myself to be capable of taking care of you.”

The sincerity in his words and gaze, how determined he is with his words seriously blinded your sanity—this part of you trying to assure that what he says is strictly platonic. Your heart is beating so fast it is literally painful to even breath, all the butterflies in your stomach fly without a care in the world. Does he really mean it? Do you even want to know what he means by the words?

The rest of the way passes in tense silence, both of you busy in each of your thoughts, and the car already approaches the street of his house. You sigh, putting on the break when you finally arrive in front of his house lane. “This is it, Jungkook. Go home, get some sleep. Don’t forget to eat some aspirin, and please wake up in time for your flight.”

Jungkook somberly nods, clicking his seatbelt off. You were about to say something, anything about addressing the elephant inside the car—to confirm whether he meant his words, whether he is indeed jealous of the punishment kiss with Seokjin. But then he beats you to it.

“Can I ask you one thing? And please promise me you will answer this.” He stares at you, and you hesitatingly hum as an answer, the tension is hard to miss.

“Answer me truthfully. Do you like kissing him? Seokjin, I mean.”

You sigh, not believing how still hung up Jungkook is on the matter. “Jungkook—”

“I know you like this guy so much, Y/N. I don't even want to ask that. I just want to know if you like the kiss. I wish this guy sucks in kissing, at least let me live with that.”

You look up to him, cheeks turning vermillion as he braves himself to look into your eyes. Your heart swells in pride, thinking how important it is to confirm that to you. God, has he really been this cute before?

“It was okay.”

Listening to your answer, Jungkook smiles widens from ear to ear, like he is completely over the moon with okay as an answer. “Just okay? Not mind blowing whatsoever?”

“It was okay.” You repeat, not confirming nor denying his latter question, but Jungkook still looks pleased with just the same answer. The manchild then hums, throwing both his arms around you, enveloping you into a hug so close like he never wants to let go. After a good minute he finally lets go, still with a million-dollar smile on his face and... rests his forehead on yours, closing his eyes as he breathes your scent in. This time, you are definitely sure you are going to schedule a slot with a cardiologist because there must be something wrong with your heart for beating that fast. There must be. And then his eyes flutter open, showing a strained gaze filled with anonymous emotion.

“Are you going to be mad if I were to kiss you now?”

At Jungkook’s hushed questions, the temptation to taste his lips and comply with his request has you blinded, so you let go of your sanity and approve with a shy nod. The realistic side of you is quickly shut down as you don’t want to argue with it now. All you are thinking and craving about is to kiss him, or else you are going to die.

As his lips advances, the kiss finally happens. You can vividly feel the fireworks light up inside your chest—a strange yet wonderful feeling, the first time you ever feel this away while kissing someone. Jungkook’s lips are soft, touching you slowly like he is testing the waters. After he feels your careful reply, he sends more pressure, slowly but sure savoring your lips like he is taking his dearest time with you. Boy did he taste amazing—like a good whiskey, even if it’s probably all on him. The kiss feels amazing, yet you find yourself getting impatient with how it progresses, since all you can think is to feel him close. God, you must have lost your mind.

“Patience, pumpkin.” He teases, and you can feel a sleazy smile formed on his lips. You snort in annoyance, but he unexpectedly uses it to his advantage, stealthily shoving down his tongue inside your mouth cave. You gasp when the taste of alcohol kicks in, but is content nevertheless. You can’t even describe how good it is to have him close, your fingers entangled in his beautiful oak brown silk hair, his hands tightly encircled on your waist. How did you even think about spending a lifetime without kissing him?

“God, can I have you now? But I hate doing it in the car—I want our first time to be special.”

Somehow, his desperate words instantly sobers your lust-clouded head, viciously taking you back to reality. So he really thinks of you that easily. And like you are saved by the bell, his brother appears from inside the house, probably realizing that the car has arrived but yet to show his brother—for a bit way too long. You curtly shove him away, heading outside the car before slamming the door vigorously. Of course. Of fucking course that is going to happen! What do you expect? He kisses you once and is finally ready to take your hand in marriage? You should’ve known better than to fall for the same tricks he played on those dumb girls. He even does it while drunk, for god sake. You should’ve known better!

With heavy self-disappointment you quickly open your phone, opening an app to order your ride home. All you want to do is now wail in sadness, and promise yourself to never let that happen again. You are too focused on your plan to flee, so when you feel Jungkook’s touch against your skin, you instinctively flinch. You can see how pained he is to see your reaction closing him off, yet you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to say even a word to him. The more you think about what just happened, the stronger the ache you feel, so you decided to just stop trying. You desperately need some time alone.

“Y/N! You are here. Thank you so much from bringing Jungkook home. This kid never learns, I swear.” Junghyun smiles, nonchalant to the tense air between you and Jungkook. You put up a fake smile of reassurance to the older guy, shrugging his worry.

“Are you going home? I can drive you, just let me take this guy in first.” Junghyun kindly offers, but you quickly recide. How can you do that when just in a few hours they are going to fly to Busan? They are seriously too kind.

“I ordered my taxi, it will arrive soon, oppa. No worries!” You brightly smile, not minding the obvious stares of Jungkook on your skin. You thank your lucky stars after the white taxi of your choice gladfully is near enough, and the blinding light of the taxi car lamp finally allows you to breathe. “It’s here!”

“Hyung, please take the details of the taxi, will you?”

While entering the taxi you hear Jungkook’s subtle request to his brother, yet you pretend to be clueless, since it is better this way. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You don’t want to mess with the things you have now. You are so conflicted you don’t even know what to do with yourself.

“Text me when you get home.” Jungkook rigidly murmurs and you nod with the same manner. The taxi finally moves, and after a few seconds of total silence, you find the tears you have been holding for a while finally free, raining down on your cheeks.

Finally ending the fateful night, you arrive in your apartment and cry yourself to sleep. You feel betrayed, you feel dirty, you feel played and used. You do not know what has gotten into you to seriously think you are special to Jungkook, but that’s definitely not the case since he just caught up in the moment and just needed you to wet his dick. After that, you are going to ruin a ten year old friendship just because you can’t keep your feelings in hand like he can’t keep his dick inside his pants. You should’ve seen it coming—but now the damage is done, there is no use of regretting the things you can’t change. Yet ever since that day you can’t even sleep, eat, study, or basically do anything without thinking about him.

Especially since in the morning he left for Busan, he informed you through a message that he will be there for a week, and after that he needs to talk to you. You haven’t even replied, leaving him only on read even if that’s basically what you are thinking about night and day. What is he going to say? Is he going to reject you? Is he going to say how disgusted he is for that night? Is he going to tell you should not be friends anymore? There are countless scenarios playing in your head, and not even one is as what you wish it would be. Just an endless count of rejection and humiliation.

So the night before he is coming back, you are seated coated in your blanket in your apartment, right in front of your TV even though you don’t even know what show is playing. You are just zoning out, racking your brains for reasons that you need to say to Jungkook to avoid meeting him tomorrow. Do you just pretend you are sick? Or can you bail on him? But thinking about Jungkook, waiting alone in a cafe makes you sad and guilty, so you immediately cancel that last option. God, what are you going to do?

Too invested in your thoughts, you do not notice Lia is just in front of you. You finally acknowledge her presence when after she is now waving a plastic of delicious smelling food in front of your face. “Hey, earth to Y/N!” She calls you again, the agitation builds up for the past week of being ignored by her own roommate.

“Honey, seeing you like this makes me sad.” She sighs, resting the plastic on the desk. “I brought offering food, and with this I hope you can finally tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, realizing how annoyed she must be seeing you like this. You have been closed off on her as well, keeping the event from a week ago only for yourself. It just doesn’t feel right talking about it with someone Jungkook admitted he likes… Which suddenly pops an idea inside your brilliant head. God! How can you not think of it before?!

You widely let out an ear-to-ear smile which frankly scares Lia due to the drastic change of mood. But you couldn't care less. You need to do this, to save the remaining pieces of your friendship with Jungkook and give him a helpful hand as well.

“Lia, honey, can you please help me with something?”

Jungkook arrives at Gimpo International Airport at 5.40pm, along with his parents and brother. After going back for the wedding of his relatives, every new day he can’t wait to finally be back in Seoul. He is worried as hell about you, since he is aware that he did make a mistake that night—he scares you with his overwhelming feelings, but he promises himself to make things right. He would be crazy to let you go that easily. Jungkook definitely felt something from you that night—there is a glimpse of hope that you somehow like him too, and now he is helplessly hanging on to that rope.

After telling you he needed to see you after he got back, you left him on read for a few days and he had to confess that he was so moody and off during those days, constantly pissing everyone around him. But how can he not? He thought he lost his chance. What if Seokjin took those days to convince you how much better of a man he is than him? What if you had enough of him and dump his ass? Or worse, what if you think you can no longer even be friends? Those thoughts constantly bothered him, but when you message time and place to meet him, he feels comforted. He trusted you—you are much better of a person than what his pessimistic mind forced him to believe.

So when his flight arrives, he directly goes to take the train instead of going with his family’s car, heading to the restaurant you informed. As you informed him about the dinner—7pm reservation, he carefully calculated his ETA. Jungkook is a bit confused due to your choice of place—you don’t really fancy Mexican food, but he pays no heed as what he can only focus is what he is about to say and the gift he thought thoroughly and carefully before, secured on his backpack. Jungkook silently smiles. He is going to make this right.

Exactly an hour arrival, he is now in the area of the restaurant. He quickly hitch a taxi, asking the driver to drive as fast as he can since his plan was to arrive first before you. The hope grows dimmer as seconds pass, especially when his taxi is caught in the middle of a traffic jam. Jungkook groans, there is no hesitation that he will be late. He quickly send you an apology by text, in which you do not even read—adding more anxiety to his already existing one.

After a few minutes which passes like a thousand years, he finally arrives in the said restaurant. He slaps a few bills at the driver, not even waiting for a change as he runs inside, nervously tapping his foot after mentioning your name as a reservation. His heart is beating fast, his palms turn clammy, and he feels jittery all over his body. God, the feeling has already been too long to even remember. But he can’t deny that it indeed feels nice. It feels amazing to care and have real emotions this deeply about someone.

Instead of finding the face he has been thinking of night and days, he finds a completely different woman, sitting nervously on the table. He is too overwhelmed to even speak.

“You—What are you doing here?!”

Jungkook can’t even believe his eyes. It’s Lia, your best friend, sitting on the table right now. All at once, his head spins followed by a sudden nausea bubbling up his throat from the great shock. He has been expecting you—to see your face again waiting for him with a smile, to tell you how much you mean to him, to finally confess and give him a gift he carefully picks out for you—but instead you set him up for dinner with your best friend, without letting either of them know. He feels rejected, a wave of sadness crashing at him that he can only weakly sit down, his legs nearly giving him up. He is now mourning on so-selfless yet so idiotic action you do him.

“God, Y/N asked me for dinner together, and he actually set me up with you? What the fuck?!” Lia flares angrily, taking her phone and fervently dialing up your number. Seeing how ugly it can get, Jungkook takes the phone away, closing the call. “What are you doing?!” She hisses.

“I.. I accidentally lied to her that I like you instead of her when she caught us meeting that morning.” Jungkook whispers, his throat too dry for catching up in the sadness. “And now she is setting us up together.”

“God, it all makes sense now! She actually asked me how I feel about you, and knowing you like her, I put good words. Could it be that she thinks I like you too?” She gasps, but Jungkook is already too numb in the feeling. “God, she is such a moron sometimes!”

“That’s okay. It’s just clear now. I know she does not have any feelings for me, and she might be too afraid to say so. She is probably already with Seokjin now.” Jungkook bitterly whispers, trying to uphold his voice yet it still wound him so fucking bad. Of course that is it. Seokjin is a whole perfect package for a man, not a child with zero emotional capacity like him. He must be drunk to even think about competing with that man.

“No, that's not it..” Lia shakes her head fervently at Jungkook’s helpless posture. “I believe she broke up whatever relationship she had with Seokjin. Don’t tell her you know this from me, but they kinda did it in our apartment hallways a few days ago and I accidentally—well not really accidental but that’s not the point—heard! I thought she was extremely quiet and sad because of that!”

He is confused, he really is, but now he knows the fact, there must be something he has not known yet. “Are you sure?” Jungkook rises up to his seat, strangely motivated. Not that he wants to take advantage of your odd break up with Seokjin for his personal advantage, he just wants to be there for you — like what best friends would do.

“Are you okay if I leave you now?” Jungkook kindly asks, and Lia shoo him away boredly, eyes already skimming on the menu.

“Don’t need no boys helping me eat, but you owe me a lot after this, bro. You get it?” With a nod of confirmation and a short smile, Jungkook quickly heads to the place he knew he would find you.

You don’t even know what you are doing, seated in the usual coffee shop you always visit with Jungkook. You have been sitting in the cafe for nearly two hours, munching on the countless foods you order from the menu, yet you can’t hold back the obnoxious, ugly feeling in your chest — especially when the barista is asking where Jungkook is when you ordered your usual. It’s literally on you—you were the one setting up both your best friends who greatly deserve and like each other together, so why is it so painful to face the possibility that they are having a nice date in her favorite Mexican restaurant right now?

Great. Now you are crying. God, you must look hideous, no make up, alone with plates of food in front of you. You can’t even imagine what people must be thinking about you right now, since even you are disgusted with yourself.

“I better go home.” You sigh, ready to pick the bill when a soft bell tingling is heard and you do not know whether you can believe your eyes or not, but it signals Jungkook’s entrance. He is wearing a dark blue sweater you bought him for his birthday a year ago, walking pensively to your table. Just looking at him immediately quickens your heartbeat, too loud you can distinctly hear it rings in your ear. What is happening? Why is he here, not more than an hour in the date? That look—Is he mad at you?

“Y/N, before I am going to be angry at you for setting me up with your best friend, I want to hit pause. Okay?” He calmly speaks, resting his bag on the floor. You look at him with teary eyes, still shocked for only his presence so you hesitantly nod.

“Are you okay? After Seokjin, I mean. I heard about it.” Jungkook whispers, trying for a slow approach to the said matter. You don’t even know how he knows, yet you don’t really care. “I’m sorry.”

You finally gather your courage to let out your voice, eyes still training on your lap. “Don’t be. It’s hard, but I’m okay. We just realize it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Do you want a hug?” Jungkook good-naturedly offers like it's the most usual thing to do inside a coffeeshop, and you can’t hold the chuckle which he follows. “We always hug it out whenever we are sad. I don’t know about you, but it always works for me. Your hugs are the best.”

You know he probably does not imply anything, so you nod, because you are desperately in need of your best friend’s hug right now. When everything is hard, it feels nice to have someone who completely understands and is willing to listen, instead of telling you what you need to do. That’s the kind of friendship you have with him, and you are thankful neither of you has given up on each other even with the constant fights.

After a good ten minutes just having each other close in a hug—his arms secured around your shoulder while you lean your head on his annoyingly sturdy chest—you let your best friend go. “God, we must be looking like two moron right now.” You whisper, noticing a few glances are thrown at your table and Jungkook snickers, agreeing with your comment. You snort. “More like because you look like a fucking idol and I look a hobo. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Hey, I just arrived from Busan and I directly come here without even changing.” He pouts and you chuckle, feeling the butterflies vividly knocking on your stomach. He helps you asking for the bill, and when it arrives, he directly gives the waiter his card and you angrily shove him away.

“Jungkook, if you pay for the food you don’t even touch, I swear to god—”

“But it's my turn to pay!” He protests and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not, because you did not even eat a thing.”

He quickly munch on the leftover fries, giving the waiter his card and pushing the confused man away before you can snatch the card back. You hiss, seriously feeling guilty for letting him pay for the whole thing. “God, I am starving! Can I eat this?” He asks, munching on your half eaten pasta without waiting for you. You just stare at him, happily eating your food and you can’t hold down the smile.

“Can I have this coffee too?” He politely asks, pointing at your black coffee and you sigh.

“Jungkook, once again I tell you, you do not like black coffee. I’ll just order you anything.” You are about to call the waiter again when he holds you back.

“I like everything you like, Y/N. I think this goddamn coffee has grown on me.”

But he is completely bullshitting you—and probably himself because as his lips touch the glass to take a sip, he instinctively grimaces at the strong, bitter taste. Gosh, an idiot and somehow you still call him your best friend.

“Jungkook, do you want me to order you a banana milkshake?” You kindly offer like the coffee thing did just not happen, and he answers with a 1000 watt smile that leaves you strangely speechless.

“My hero.”

After exactly another hour talking about the cousin’s wedding he attended a few days ago, both of you and him exit the coffeeshop. You can’t hide your blush when the barista is secretly teasing you with his goddamn eyebrow, not that Jungkook can notice. God, you wish he doesn’t notice.

“Can we walk to your apartment? Are you okay? it’s a little bit cold.” Jungkook worriedly asks, and you nod as an agreement. He smiles serenely at you, his hand runs to fix your messy hair—courtesy of the wind. His fingers delicately put a strand of lost hair to the back of your ear, and smile with all his bunny teeth on display after being satisfied with the result. God, you wish he would not notice how nervous you are right now.

During the short walk filled with comfortable silence, he reaches your hand, tightly intertwining it with his fingers. All the things he does are not special—you nearly do it every time in your so-called platonic friendship, but everything definitely has changed. But the fuzzy feeling quickly turns into nerves when you sense the inevitable talk is coming, as he points to one of the benches in front of your apartment building.

“I am angry at you.”

You look up to him, expecting anger on his face when you found none, instead a thin smile. “You set me up with your best friend. What were you thinking, Y/N?”

“You said you liked her. And I know you need a push to finally do something about it, that’s why I did it.” You guiltily try to defend yourself. Jungkook sighs, suddenly feeling remorse of what the conversation will turn into.

“But.. I don’t know whether we want to discuss this, but here goes—we kissed that night, Y/N. Does it even mean anything to you?”

And now it is there. The hurt, the frustration, the anger shown on his beautiful doe eyes. You know it is coming — the inevitable confrontation about that night. But how can he even ask such question to you? Doesn’t he know it nearly keeps you awake every night?

“You were drunk, Jungkook. And horny... I was—we were just caught up in the moment.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “I don’t know about you, but I was not just caught up in the moment.” Jungkook curtly answers, taking a deep breath of courage. He hopes he doesn’t mess up everything and end up chasing you away yet again.

“Can’t you see it, Y/N? I like you. I like you so much for how it seems like a long time ago, but idiot me, somehow I just realize everything now.”

At his answer, your head feels like it is about to explode. But you are too scared, too realistic to even think about the possibility that he may truly mean every word. “You can’t lie to me like that, Jungkook! I am not the girl you can play with like your one night stands. I do not want to be just another number to you.”

“But you're not just another number to me!” He agitatedly hisses, letting his emotions open up on the table. “You think it doesn’t kill me? I think about it nearly everyday. I think about you and Seokjin. I think about you rejecting me. I think about you and our ten years friendship currently on the line. Do you think it has been just a walk in the park for me?”

He takes a deep breath. “I like you, Y/N. I like you so much it kills me for you to close me off that night we kissed. I thought everything was clear—my obvious feelings for you, but just now, you set me up with your best friend. How fucking great!”

The tears welling in your eyes are forcing to come out. “You don’t know how afraid I was, Jungkook. You can’t even imagine how it was for me! I like kissing you—I think I like it a little bit too much—but when you said you wanted to fuck in the car, I felt… I felt disgusted. You were drunk, and I felt like you were just using me for my body, like I’m just another dumb girls who you’ll fuck and never call back. I.. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”

The statement you let out just brings a whole new guilt on his chest, and he moves to hold you close. “What were you thinking, Y/N. I would never do that to you…”

“How can I think of that? Are you shitting me right now? Jungkook, you slept with at least three girls a week, and you explicitly told me about fucking these girl nearly everyday before. So you expect me to comply and fuck you in that car, ruining our friendship because you only want to fuck me and wet your dick?!”

“Y/N, I swear it is not that. I like you too much, and I got so jealous of Seokjin—I am sorry that I make you feel that way. But I swear to god, at that time I just wanted to show you how much I like you, and I am sorry if it came out that way.”

You take a deep breath, but even doing it suffocates you. “I just need some time. That’s it. Can we… can we just pretend this never happens?” You sigh tiredly, and at your word, Jungkook feels hit with a ton of brick until he is completely numb. You want to disregard everything that happened?

“I am heading upstairs. You.. you can just head home now.” You whisper, and every word coming out hurts you back like it hurts him, but you need this. You need some time to think about everything. You don’t want to hurt yourself again—just seeing him now hurts so fucking bad already. Jungkook is not emotionally ready for you. He just caught up in the moment of drunkenness, and he doesn’t mean it. You should just stop thinking about it.

You are about to leave to cry your eyes to sleep, when you heard him call from behind.

“Here. I bought this for you. Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll leave.”

And you can hear the steps of his boots, walking far and far away until it disappears in the silence. Now that he is not here, you find the wind is ten times colder, and the pain in your chest multiplies a thousand times. It’s only you now, alone with your thoughts. You brave yourself to turn back, seeing a box of chocolate resting on the bench, which then leaves you a crying mess.

It’s the exact chocolate he gave ten years ago to the girls, the one you ate when you saved him from the humiliation he faced. How could he even get this?

To : Y/N

Thank you for saving me again that day. And the day after. And the day after, until today. I owe you my life :)

With love, your vermillion faced favorite person in the world.

Jeon Jungkook.

Another week passes, and Jungkook wakes up with a groan inside of his room he shared with Taehyung. God was he trashed last night. His frat was having another party, and he may or may not steal a few bottles and decided to trash himself whilst playing Overwatch—he can’t even remember when or how. His back is killing him for falling asleep with bent back, his face plastered on the keyboard.

He tries to straighten up, but the dizziness from suddenly standing up washes him away that it takes some time to get used to. His lips are as dry as sahara, yet he found no bottle of water that may relieve the thirst—seriously, Jungkook? Stealing two bottles of vodka but forgot to bring up a bottle of water? God he is a moron sometimes.

He walks out of the room, descending to the downstairs with his head still banging painfully due to the bad hangover. He is about to head directly straight to the kitchen, but his steps are paused when he finds Seokjin currently having his breakfast on the table, with… you.

The first thought that comes to his mind is how different you look—you look pale and tired, the dark eyebags are getting prominent and it does look like you haven’t been sleeping well. The thoughts finally come closing when he realizes how awkward the air has become, you, Seokjin and himself on such close distance. Jungkook can’t bear the bitter thoughts of you, having your usual breakfast with Seokjin. God, he must be a bother—so he quickly enters the kitchen, intends to grab a drink and forces himself out of the picture.

“Jung—Jungkook, can we talk? Outside, I mean. I want to tell you something.”

He looks back, not expecting to find you standing up and walking to him to the kitchen.

“We can. Do we need Seokjin to join as well?” He bitterly shoves the water inside his throat, not even minding how petty he must have sounded.

“No. No need. I need to talk to you alone.” You beg, internally praying that Jungkook will not make it harder than it already is. All you want to do is say what you needed to say, then run away and bury yourself alive beside the nearest tree.

Jungkook hums, and follows your hesitant step to the backyard of his frat house. But now that he is seeing you in such close distance, makes him realize that he terribly misses seeing you and talking to you. The week after the confession he let out, he decides to give you the space you deserve—no matter how desperate he is to just send you a message and ask how you’re doing. He can’t even deny that he went to your faculty a few times before, wanting to just see how you are doing even from afar. He knows how cringey and creepy that thought is, but he seriously can’t stand the idea of not having to see your face during those times. Checking up on you is like something he has been doing for ten years now, and he doesn’t intend to stop just because you need your own space.

Now you are standing with him, yet he thoughtfully motion so you can sit on the patio wall. The first touch he gave you since the last encounter, and it successfully turns you ten times nervous than you already are. Will you even be able to say what you need to say when he is right there, looking at you like that?

“Before you say anything, can I ask why are you having breakfast with Seokjin?” He starts, somehow unable to disregard the scene he just witnesses. He doesn’t know why, but he feels somehow sad and anxious that you are spending such an intimate breakfast with him. Sensing that Jungkook is indeed dead serious, and so are you, you decide not to beat around the bush and answer him with the truth.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to see you and he was there, having his breakfast. He was just being polite.”

“Jungkook, I want to say I am sorry.” You whisper directly and cut to the chase, intending to look him in the eyes but still failing to do so. All because you are nothing but a nervous pile of mess. “I.. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t set you up with Lia just because of my insecurities. I thought I was doing you some good, but that was my fault to overstep it. And I shouldn’t have been angry at the thoughts that you were just playing with me—it’s only in my head and I accused you for it. It’s so unfair for you, I.. I want to apologize.”

Both of you fall into deep and tense silence, waiting for the other to speak up. But falling too uncomfortable with the silence, you decide to open your voice again. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Are you still angry at me?”

“Shouldn’t you apologize for one more thing?” Jungkook calmly asks, basking in your appearance once again like it’s never enough. God, are you even eating well? You hesitantly look up, confused with his words. What does he mean by that?

“The way you expect us to forget everything happened.” He winces soundly just by saying the word he refuses to acknowledge since the moment he heard it. Just thinking about the word you said a few nights back still brings fresh pain inside his chest. “That’s actually what hurts me the most. I don’t really care about the other.” You bit your lower lips. Is it just your hallucination or Jungkook seriously asking that?

Jungkook racks his brain, trying to articulate his thoughts yet failing to do so. Then he gives up, letting his heart do the talking instead. “I like you, Y/N. I don’t want to scare you—but I might even be in love with you. These past few years are so clear now. I like you, I always have feelings for you but it was so clouded with any friendly, somehow platonic feelings I thought I have and I don’t know—what happened with us just awakened me, making me realize that I don’t want anyone else but me to be the one taking care of you.”

The newfound sincerity in his words astonishes you. Your breath hitches, with his words coming in and out of your mind, yet it still feels unsettled. Does he really mean it?

“I guess I was just too busy with myself, with my own ways of hiding the pain I felt. But I realize, it was not any parties, or meaningless sex or any other things that makes me happy. I thought it was, but it’s not.” Jungkook takes your chin, pleading for you to look up to him. You are too overwhelmed by emotion, and you are thankful he asked you to sit because if you weren’t, your leg would give you away.

“It’s you. It’s always you.” He proclaims, as clear as the sky upon him. “It’s breakfast with you, talking with you everyday, seeing you be happy and be the one causing it. That’s what makes me happy.”

At such sentiment, the tears swimming in the corner of your eyes finally falls, streaming on the side of your cheek. He quickly pulls you close, his head entangles on your hair and your hands basked on his waist tightly, like you are holding it for dear life. “Jungkook, I am scared. I don’t want to lose you... What if everything goes wrong and then I lost you forever?”

Jungkook kisses the top of your head. God, he is scared beyond words too. But he loves you too much, he believes in what you both have and is ready to take his chances. “We’ll make it through. I can’t promise you much, but I promise I’ll always look out for our best interests. You won’t lose me. I am your best friend before anything, Y/N.”

You nod, somehow assured by his words. You know it’s going to be hard to believe—even your past self would too, but you trust him with all your heart. Jungkook has been one constant thing in your life, and you trust him and are willing to put everything on the line because frankly, you love him, and he loves you. Maybe it’s time to finally be brave enough to face anything and take that risk. Only because it is him.

Another moment of holding each other close when Jungkook fucking opened his mouth and decided to ruin everything. “So.. Can I kiss you now?” He jokingly whispers and you snort, all sappy moments crumbling down to ashes. An amused chuckle somehow did escape your lips, and he pouts. “Hey, let me kiss you, you pretty girl. Seriously, I kissed you once, and god, that’s all I can think of this past week.”

You roll your eyes, heart beating rapidly fast in your chest. You are going to shrug his face away from you, but the moment you can clearly look up to him, you feel warm and giddy. His face is saying everything, shaded vermillion red while shyly looking down on you. A flashback comes inside your head, reminding you about the eleven year old kid with the same shade of vermillion on his face. He is still the same Jungkook you know—the Jungkook you love and wouldn’t trade for anything in the whole world.

His lips advance closer to yours yet you are the one to close the distance between. To have your lips finally touch against his chapped one, you can feel the same firework lights up, only ten times better now that you finally is truthful to your own feeling. God does it feel amazing to feel it to have him against your lips. Both of you are too content with even such innocent kisses, feeling the smile forming in each of your lips, inevitably bringing up a laughter.

“Fucking finally!”

At the loud roar, you quickly push Jungkook until he falls a few steps back, completely shocked beyond words to hear the shouts behind you—which belongs to Taehyung, somehow with Lia shutting him instantly on the mouth. There are few other frat brothers like Jimin and Namjoon as well, smiling meaningfully in front of the door. You shyly duck your head, god, how long have they been standing there? This is embarrassing!

“Are you going to hit them or should I?” You whisper, walking outside from the back door with Jungkook on your side, escaping the loud shouts and woo from the people standing there. Jungkook chuckles with mirth at your reddened abashed face. Is it a good time for him to say how adorable you are right now, with a burst of red coloring your cheek?

“No worries, I will.” He kisses your supple cheek. “But objectively speaking, I do think Lia has rights for that. She is the one helping me to get you since god-knows-when.” Jungkook smiles endearingly, holding you close around the shoulder when it’s finally just the two of you, brushing a kiss on the top of your head. You chuckle knowingly, and Jungkook stops to see you straight on the eye.

“Aren’t you going to ask me when, why or how? I mean about the chasing you thing with Lia.” He asks seriously, yet apparently can’t get his hands far from you as he reaches for your cheek, softly brushing it delicately with his fingers. You hum, somehow content with his touches. God, you sure like him so much it hurts.

“Baby—you’re cute. But actually it’s Lia who convinces me about you.” You chuckle, and Jungkook scrunch his eyebrows, yet still falling shy at the nickname that sounds entirely different now that you are the one saying it to him. “She told me everything. And that’s actually when I realize that I can trust you. With all my heart.”

Jungkook smiles, heart turning warm from your statement and still, the endearing nickname. “On the light note, you called me your baby. Ugh, can I kiss you again, pumpkin?” He cheekily asks, and your hearts light up at the familiar yet so strange nickname that now it feels different to have him as your lover.

You smirks, holding his palm against your cheek, taking in his disheveled, morning appearance once again. He looks extensively cute with his button nose and reddened cheeks, his disheveled morning hair still super inviting to have your fingers running through it. And it is unfair that somehow he looks his best now, better than anything you have seen him before. High chance it is because for you, the best thing for Jungkook to wear is his smile—especially when it’s because of you.

“Not if you have to ask again every time you don’t.”

He smirks and pulls you by the nape, muttering an answer against your smiling lips. He seriously wouldn’t mind doing this every second of the day.

“Deal.”

========

Finally! nearing 25k, wow this is a lot to write. But it was so much fun and i hope you like it! let me know and lets talk :) kindly check my masterlist !

UPDATE #1 : Drabble posted on masterlist! Do check lovelies! <3

UPDATE #2 : Find the Taehyung spinoff, “The Platinum Rules” click here!

#jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fuckboy au #jungkook friends to lover #bts #bts au #bts jungkook #bts seokjin #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fuckboy au #seokjin #friends to lovers #bts frat au #taecalikook #bts friends to lovers #jungkook fanfic

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lunarreaper-ut · 3 years ago

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Doing some doodles to figure out the design for the Embodiment of Positivity, and I have figured out their role a bit more! (Putting this under the cut because it ended up being just a long backstory instead of little ramblings)

The Embodiment and the Aspects don’t have, nor need a “Tree of Feelings”, which is why they can be separated. They don’t need to guard anything. However, the reason this works is because both the Embodiment and the Aspects are quite literally made of Positivity and Negativity, not just their Souls!

The Aspects isolated themselves from the Embodiment the majority of the time, not wanting to cause problems with the people who may visit her, and also having the fear that their auras would affect the Embodiment in some way. She’d called them silly for their worry.

The Embodiment had wings, with which a single feather could cure illnesses, provide strength, and imbue anything with pure Positivity. The counter to this was that growing a single feather takes years upon years, and they were meant to be used sparingly.

Thankfully, the feathers had enough energy that a single AU would only need one for it to be imbued with Positivity. The Embodiment was, at times, visited by the sick and dying, often being pleaded with for a simple feather to save their lives. She could rarely afford to spare even a single feather to these poor souls...

A weakened newborn here, an ill child there, but she couldn’t afford to give out feathers willy-nilly. People began to resent the Embodiment, believing her to be selfish. She was created to help them, so why wasn’t she doing her duty? The people decided they would take what they were owed, and so they attacked the Embodiment, ripping her wings from her. What they didn’t know, was that this would taint the very feathers they sought after, rendering them useless.

Malice came upon the scene of the Embodiment, her wings ripped from her as she lay dying, and was filled with a burning red rage. He attacked the people that had harmed her, and became corrupted by his own rage and anguish. He slaughtered the people and took the heavily injured Embodiment back to his brothers.

Omen and Despair, not yet corrupted, were shocked to say the least to see their brother, clearly in pain from his transformation, clinging desperately to the bloodied body of their childhood friend. Thankfully they were quick to act, quickly trying to heal the damage done. Despite their efforts, they could only heal so much, and the trauma caused by the attack had severely damaged the Embodiment’s Soul.

Malice was pouring Negativity from himself at this point due to his corruption, and the other brothers knew that for the Embodiment to heal properly, she shouldn’t be exposed to so much Negativity, lest she be corrupted as well. They created a small pocket dimension in their castle (Think anti-void, a door that opened into a pure white room that seemed to have no end). They placed the Embodiment within, and closed her away, hoping that with time she would heal.

The brothers were at a loss, to say the least. They’d no idea what to do about Malice’s corruption, they were scared for the sake of the Embodiment that was now isolated. Omen took charge, proposing they take the time to seek out sources of Positivity that could assist in the healing process of the Embodiment.

The other brothers had no arguments.

Over time, it became clear Malice’s corruption had changed him. He was often out seeking out positive AUs, and if he came up short it wouldn’t be a surprise to find he’d taken his frustrations out on a random AU, the negativity coming from it becoming clear to the other two brothers.

Omen couldn’t find it in him to care at the time, his own frustrations eating at him. It had been years since the Embodiment was attacked and they’d made little to no progress. The excess negativity, coupled with his feelings of self-imposed responsibility chipped away at him, calling for his own corruption.

(I should note, while OG!Nightmare required the Apples of Negativity to trigger his corruption, the Aspects are, as said, entirely made of Negativity, and thus they can trigger their own Corruption if they give in to their own Negativity.)

Omen’s thoughts began to wander. They had been trying to avoid any violent means of obtaining Positivity, but the greatest sources of such energy lied within the Souls of those within the AUs. What would losing a few matter in the end? This was for the greater good. What point was there to this multiverse if the Embodiment was no more?

A few lives didn’t matter to him anymore. This was his own trigger for his corruption.

Despair was lost, both his brothers corrupted, his only friend still comatose, and his own Negativity eating away at him. He spent most of his time avoiding his brothers now, staying outside the door leading to the Embodiment’s room. He sat there, listening to the music the two listened to together, trying to hold on to his own positive memories in order to keep the mounting Negativity at bay.

It helped for a time. It wasn’t as if he didn’t also want to help heal the Embodiment, but the route his brothers were taking was not what she would have wanted. She would hate them for what they were doing. Malice had even brought back a stranger, claiming he would “help”. Despair could taste the LV emanating from their new guest.

Hundreds of years had passed at this point, and while he hated to admit it, Despair’s brothers’ efforts were indeed making progress. The Embodiment’s Soul was healing, she was looking healthier. Despair felt such a strange mix of hope and disgust. His brothers came to him one day to speak with him.

They expressed their own regret and guilt, understanding his feelings, but they remained adamant that their path was the best course of action. They needed his help. They could make it up to her when she awoke. The Embodiment was more important than a few simple AUs.

He found it hard to argue.

Despairs corruption took a toll on him, he’d been keeping it at bay for so long, it had built up far more than his brothers’. He was rendered blind, and yet he felt so much stronger despite it.

Hundreds of years passing by slowly, the Aspects gathering the Souls of those belonging to positive AUs and feeding off the anguish that followed. Their followers doing their bidding without question. By the time nearly 700 years had passed, the Embodiment began to awaken. In truth, she hadn’t woken up on her own, and was rather disturbed to wakefulness.

The followers of the Aspects had grown too curious about the room they so fiercely guarded, and venturing into the room they came across the Embodiment herself. Their disturbance woke the sleeping Embodiment. Before the three could back-track, the Aspects had discovered their blunder.

Their rage was quelled when they saw the Embodiment, their dear friend’s eyes open and gazing at them with curiosity. The Aspects were overjoyed... for a brief moment. The Embodiment had not moved from her spot, and simply watched them.

The damage to the Embodiment’s Soul had impaired her emotions, and while she retained most of her memories, she was not the same. She knew she should be feeling something, but nothing came. The Aspects were once again at a loss.

They decided that perhaps she would just need time, and that eventually she would return to how she was. They tried to do some of the things they used to do together in the past, listening to music, reading, offering her favorite foods and activities. They filled the room she stayed in to the brim with all her favorite things in hopes it would help.

It was little help.

(I’m gonna stop there cause this has gotten hella long >w<;)

#Luna's writing #AoN #Aspects of Negativity #This got super long #Jeez #Sorry >w<;

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

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Idiots ~ H.D.

A/n: God I love requests when people KNOW my branding!!

Request: “Hamish duke x male reader we’re the reader is a magician but can’t tell when someone is flirting with him and hamish trying to get his attention” by anon

Word Count: 3800+

Masterlist

Once upon a time, two boys sat at a table together in a little coffee shop. One of them went on and on and on about something and the other watched him with an expression that channeled both confusion and adoration. Everyone looking on had the same mixed expression, but this time with different emotions: charmed amusement, and frustration.

See, Hamish and Y/n were adorable and obviously in love and those who didn't even know them looked at them and saw a couple and smiled because young love. Because young love gave everyone hope. Because it was fresh and pretty and admirable and kind of funny when you thought about all they were going to go through, imagining it with a happy ending of course.

Unfortunately, for those who did know them, Hamish and Y/n were really fucking annoying.

They were obviously in love with each other - or at the very least attracted on some level. Y/n always listened to Hamish ramble, even though he obviously had no idea what Hamish was going on about most of the time. Likewise, Hamish dealt with Y/n's severely annoying ability to not perceive literally any attempt at flirting Hamish threw at him.

Don't get me wrong, Hamish was trying. REALLY HARD. He's been trying since they first met. Hamish had been forming a friendship with this girl- the only person who could keep up with him when he talked about his field and major. But there came a moment when he noticed that she lost interest in him and what he was saying, even as she talked and joked along in time. The day he'd met Y/n, the boy had been talking to that girl that Hamish was sort of becoming acquaintances with. He used to know her name, but she had been quickly forgotten when Hamish had noticed how Y/n never lost interest in him, even though the poor English major was obviously way over his head trying to understand what Hamish was saying.

Long story: the girl and Hamish stopped talking in favor of Hamish giving Y/n all his attention. He preferred to be cared about and he appreciated the effort Y/n was giving, even if he couldn't deliver with any results. He liked that he could go on and on about anything - even things outside of school - and Y/n would listen without complaint. There was something so genuine about Y/n. It drew Hamish in a lot. After a while, their conversation drifted from Hamish talking and Y/n listening to Hamish trying to get as much information about Y/n as he could. Y/n was willing to talk about a lot, and where he was hesitant Hamish recognized the line he'd drawn and let it be. They were only friends for five and a half months, but in that time Hamish had developed very deep feelings for Y/n. Which had lead him to try his hand at flirting.

At first he'd thought Y/n wasn't interested, but then someone had made a joke about them being a couple and Y/n had gone along with it without hesitation. Which seemed to Hamish as if he didn't mind the idea. He had looped in a classmate on a promise he'd do the kid's next assignment. The kid had flirted with Y/n, getting the same complete lack of understanding Hamish did. It seemed that despite Y/n being super affectionate and kind, and even though he was quite smart if Hamish gave the time and effort to help him understand, Y/n was the single most oblivious person Hamish had ever met. At some point Y/n had decided that no one would ever like him, or maybe he'd accepted flirting in some other form. Whatever it was, Y/n did not pick up on any common form of flirting at all.

Hamish tried for two months. TWO. MONTHS. He gave up and even tried straight up pick up lines. Y/n's response had been to return with pick up lines of his own and then to say, "I love that we can joke around like this. It's so refreshing, when everyone around here seems to be so gloomy and shit these days."

Hamish was at his wit's end. He was ready to just take a leap of faith and tell Y/n his feelings straight out and take the hit if Y/n rejected him. Before he could, unfortunately, he found a blue rose on his desk one morning as he prepared for his TA period. He'd looked around to see what it could possibly mean and after several hours and dark holes and wrong paths, came across the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. Instead of confronting Y/n about his feelings, he decided to go to this thing tonight. It seemed interesting and might give him time to clear his head. He enjoyed new things and learning opportunities. Something fresh to figure out might even clear his head and help him with this whole Y/n predicament.

That evening as Y/n and him did their usual afternoon studying together, Y/n seemed upset about something. Hamish wasn't going to prod about it, as he'd learned that Y/n only shared his thoughts and emotions when he was ready to, but it was setting a weird mood.

"Hamish?" The blonde boy looked up, expecting Y/n to finally share. Whatever he'd been expecting, what Y/n said next threw him off. "Don't go tonight."

Hamish's eyebrows came together. "Don't go to what?"

Y/n pursed his lips before looking at the colored pencils he'd been doodling with. They'd found that if Y/n took a few seconds every once in a while to do something other than homework, he had a lot better time studying. That didn't seem to be what he was thinking about now. He picked up a blue pencil and reached over, handing it to Hamish. "Will this one be okay to use on your notes? I know you're peculiar about how you organize them.”

Hamish didn't highlight his notes. He stapled them by units and had a different folder for each of his classes, but that was it. If he really needed to remember something, he would use blue pen instead of black. He hated using pencil though- it faded and smeared.

However, despite the oddity, Hamish was not confused about the message Y/n was sending. There was only one thing Hamish was doing tonight, as they'd made no other engagements. And the only way Y/n would know about it...

Y/n was part of the Order of the Hermetic Blue Rose. And he was telling Hamish not to come to the whatever it was.

In Y/n's eyes, Hamish saw a plea for Hamish to avoid the thing altogether.

"It'll be fine," Hamish said slowly. Y/n's level of code and secrecy lines up with the Order. After all, they were kind of like the Illuminati, if the Illuminati were real. It was super secret and most people thought it a big joke. Hamish had thought it a joke himself before he'd gotten that rose. He'd only heard of it in passing, mostly when homework "went missing" and people joked about the Order whisking it away, or someone wasn't in class and people played with the idea of them having crossed the Order. If Y/n was apart of it, he would never say it in any way.

"No," Y/n argued. He seemed to think for a second and Hamish realized that he was trying to deliver a message to Hamish. "Honestly Hamish I think this class is bad for you. You seem to struggle with it a lot. Maybe you should just drop it. I've been... meaning to tell you for a while now."

Raising an eyebrow, Hamish tried to figure out what Y/n was saying. Did he think this would be too hard for Hamish? That he wasn't smart or tough enough? No, that wasn't in character. Y/n always encouraged Hamish to do things even when Hamish himself set a limit. He decided to test the waters, push back a little. Try and get more information. “I mean it's not that bad. I've been enjoying it."

Y/n frowned. "I took it last year and it almost ruined my transcript. I know how much you care about your grades- it might really hurt them. Dangerous stuff you're playing with here." Hamish's eyebrows came together. Before he could ask, Y/n stood and gathered his stuff. "I'll see you tomorrow." He gave a tight smile, fear in his eyes. What was he afraid of? He left and Hamish gave only a small nod.

Was the Order really so serious? I mean honestly it was just a bunch of college kids. Were they... cruel? Maybe it was more of a gang than some powerful organization. Maybe Y/n was in trouble.

Well that meant that Hamish absolutely had to go. He needed to know what was going on and how to help Y/n, if he could. If he couldn't, at least they'd be able to watch each other's backs.

So he did.

And before anything happened, a weird ringing sound took over his entire mind and the next thing he knew he was in a room he sort of recognized but had no memory of. Naked. Covered in blood.

The next time he saw Y/n, surprise surprise, actually wasn't when they were all attacked by those they'd been closest to the last six months. And by they, he meant the three other people he also kind of recognized but, yet again, had no memory of. No, it was actually a little after he discovered what the Order really was and found out he was a werewolf. Alyssa Drake of all people popped out of nowhere, promising to give their memories back. And as she talked to Jack and tried to convince him to trust her, Hamish spotted Y/n next to her.

He became human and put a robe on, coming into the room. He felt a lot of emotions. They pushed him to blow right past Alyssa and Jack, straight to Y/n. Hamish pinned him against the wall, anger seeming to have taken the most hold for now. Y/n looked terrified, but when their eyes met his expression softened. Hamish got the impression that Y/n was not afraid of him, but something else. It made worry boil up and he pushed it down, trying to keep hold of himself.

"Tell me you weren't sent to watch me. Tell me you aren't one of them, Y/n."

The room was very quiet as the others came in, everyone watching. Y/n searched for the words for a second. "I- Hamish, I'm part of the Order." Hamish stepped back and Y/n's eyes watered. He seemed to be more panicked now. "I didn't become your friend just to watch you like the others though! We weren't ever supposed to meet or talk, not like we did. The- the girl I was talking to the day we met. SHE was supposed to watch you. But you started ignoring her and seemed to take to me better, so I- I- I hate it now, but back then I was just doing what I was told."

"So you took my memories?" Hamish demanded. "That didn't strike you as wrong?"

"Okay first of all," Y/n snapped. "I didn't even know who you were for like two and a half weeks after we started talking, okay? When they told me, they introduced you as some incredibly dangerous monster who was hellbent on killing everyone who used magic so even if I had, it would have been in self defense because I thought you were dangerous."

Lilith stepped forward. "If you had?"

Y/n huffed, straightening his clothes. "I didn't ever dust you. By the time they told me who you were, they only told me because I was talking to someone about this guy that I-" he cut off, and Hamish shifted upon seeing the blush rise up his throat. Lilith and Alyssa both wore the exact same look. They knew exactly how Y/n felt. "I was friends with." It was then that Jack's eyes went wide with understanding too. "They tried to convince me to stay away because of what you are, but all you've ever been is funny and smart and really talented and snarky as hell." He huffed in amusement. "I was always kind of impressed with you, your sass is like next level it's amazing." Everyone in the room felt the oddity of the warring emotions of everyone else with the weird sort of light and humor Y/n brought to the table. They wanted to smile, but there was too much else going on. Y/n cleared his throat, trying to not default to humor. Hamish cursed himself for being concerned- he knew that Y/n struggled a lot with being emotionally vulnerable. "Anyway, I don't know who did it or how or when, but they never even asked me to. They thought that we had stopped talking for the most part. I never talked about you again at least."

"Until now," Alyssa spoke up. "He confronted me. Begged me to help because he said I would understand since I was... friends with Jack. I told him about my plan to come here and help you guys and he was more than willing and ready. We were hoping that together we might be able to convince you."

The Knights got quiet, all listening to each other. But it was clear that everyone but Randall was nearly completely convinced, and Randall didn't care enough to argue. If his friends were going, so was he.

They all lined up and Alyssa dusted them. At first they panicked but when they all woke up with their memories completely returned, Hamish's eyes immediately landed on a very hopeful Y/n. He scrambled to his feet, trying to find his words. "You lied to me." Y/n paled. He seemed to be terrified again, but this time Hamish knew immediately why. He was scared of losing Hamish.

Again.

"Hey guys! How are we doing?" Y/n was smiling as usual. It was dazzling to Hamish.

"Better now that you're here."

Y/n laughed. "I know you've been having a hard time with homework, but have you really been so miserable without the comedy relief around to lift the mood?"

Everyone exchanged looks. Everyone but Y/n, who was as always oblivious to everything. Hamish had struck out again.

The first memory was the easiest to swallow.

"Hey Hammy."

"You've been spending too much time with Randall," Hamish sighed as Y/n greeted him upon entering the Den. Y/n laughed. "Maybe you should be spending more time with me."

"Miss me?" Y/n teased.

Hamish looked up from his book, locking eyes with Y/n. "Yeah. Maybe just us? Tonight? Dinner? Movie? Something else?"

Y/n shrugged, his expression unchanged. "Yeah sure dude. I'm starving, and the new-" Hamish stopped listening after that. His message had gone unreceived once more.

He could remember everything, and yet he found himself mulling over the ones about Y/n the most.

"You should wear that shirt more often. You look very good in it."

"Thanks man."

And-

"You free later? I was thinking maybe we could get better acquainted."

"And see I was sitting here thinking we were already best friends." Y/n’s frustratingly beautiful laugh rang out again and Hamish felt his shoulders slump. "Yeah I'm down to hang. Anything for my best buddy."

Then there was-

"Hey Y/n nice pants. They'd look great on Hamish's floor."

"Very funny Lilith," Y/n hummed as he read a book. Hamish shot her a death glare as he sat next to Y/n, his arm draped over the back of the couch they both sat on.

"Not a joke," Randall chimed in. "I think they'd really match the walls. Maybe try it out?"

"I would have to take them off to do that, and I don't see the point of going all the way back to my dorm to get another pair of pants for me to wear just so we can see how these look on Hamish's floor. Total waste of time, especially when I have to have this book read by tomorrow for class."

Eventually Hamish had just turned to pick up lines.

"Hey Y/n, can you hold this?"

He held out his hand and Y/n went to take whatever he was holding, only for Hamish to interlock their fingers. Y/n laughed and didn't drop his hand, even as he rolled his eyes to dismiss what was happening. "Now who's been spending too much time with Randall?" After Y/n looked the other way, Hamish frowned and dropped his hand.

Attempt after attempt after attempt....

"Kiss me if I'm wrong but dinosaurs still exist right?"

Y/n didn't even blink. "Dinosaurs do exist, silly. Well, their bones do. We can go the museum to check them out if you want to?"

Hamish huffed. "What about the kissing me part?"

"Well you were wrong, so I'll have to pass," Y/n reasoned calmly. Hamish glared at the opposite wall so Y/n couldn't see.

He had tried everything.

"You remind me of my homework, because I'm going to slam you on my desk and do you all night."

Y/n burst out laughing. "That's a good one! I haven't heard that one yet. Did you go on some weird kick and look all these up? You've had a load to share lately."

Hamish sighed. "Yeah. Randall got drunk and shared them all with me. I thought they'd make you laugh."

Until he'd finally just said it.

Hamish stood in front of Y/n, desperate. At this point, even his friends thought Y/n was a hopeless case. Maybe they'd been wrong. Maybe Y/n didn't like Hamish. Maybe he was just trying to be polite. "Will you go on a date with me Y/n?”

Y/n smiled at Hamish. "Lose to Cup Pong with Randall again?" Hamish didn't even waste the time to come up with something. He just turned around and walked away, ignoring Y/n's familiar laugh behind him.

He'd been sure that Y/n just wasn't into him. Until:

"If we die today, I need you to know that I love you."

"I love y-"

"No." Hamish grabbed Y/n by the shoulders, his eyes boring into the other boy's. "The Order is probably going to kill us today, or the next chance they get, now that they know about us. Even if it's not today. I can't die without you knowing that I've legitimately fallen in love with you and it's driving me insane."

Y/n's eyes were wide and earnest, but before he could respond Vera and him had to face the magicians outside who had found the Den, and after there had been too much going on... He hadn't even gotten to get Y/n alone before his memory of Y/n had been taken completely in one go.

Hamish remembered everything. He remembered scheming with Randall, who knew Y/n the most of course because-

Randall was the first to move after they all woke up, dazed and trying to process all their new memories. He, of course, tackled Y/n in a hug immediately. They were both crying. "I'm sorry I forgot you."

"I knew you'd come around," Y/n reassured. "We're brothers man. You can't get rid of me even though you totally want to."

Leaning away, Randall laughed as he wiped his tears. The pair had been a duo for as long as any of the pack had known either of them. Randall was the one who acted like an idiot but was super smart. Y/n was the one who everyone thought was super smart because he got great grades and knew fun facts, but who was actually a total idiot in the sense that he had absolutely no people skills and misread almost every situation and made everything either really fun or super awkward. With help from Hamish he'd been able to figure it out a little. That's how they'd all met. Hamish had told them both about the Knights, but only Randall had been chosen by one of the furs. They'd all been friends until...

"Wait, you're part of the Order?" Hamish voiced.

Y/n sighed, Randall's arms falling away from him. "Alyssa came to me before. She begged me not to tell you, because if they didn't dust you then they were going to kill you. I figured it would be better to have you guys forget me than to be dead, at least until we could figure... something out. I told mom that something really bad had happened and you had disowned me. Said-" He blushed. "I said you and Hamish were together and I'd made a move on you. She was PISSED and left it to me to fix. I was just glad she didn't mention me to you at all. She's been mad at me for ages and demanding I figure out a way to fix it, so when Alyssa had the idea to just work with you guys instead of doing what we were told... I was all for it."

"He joined the Order so they wouldn't wipe his memories," Alyssa continued. "Because all of last year's additions had been... eliminated one way or another, we needed more people anyway. And since Y/n already knew about magic and you guys, it was only too easy to convince the Grand Magus to induct him."

Hamish stood and Y/n did with him. Randall immediately got protective, but Y/n placed a hand on his shoulder and he calmed. Not that he could take Hamish... maybe. Now Y/n was curious, but this wasn't the thing to be worrying about right now.

Hamish opened his mouth to speak, and from the look in his eyes Y/n could see what he was thinking. So he skipped the pleasantries and rushed to him, pulling him close by the back of his neck so their lips could press together. Everyone else, despite everything going on, cheered. After everything they'd been through and all the hardships they'd faced, finally - FINALLY - Y/n had figured his shit out.

When Y/n pulled apart, both boys were grinning. "I've been being your friend for the last few months so that when I finally found out a way to get your memories back, they wouldn't question it when we got together because goddamnit Hamish, I love you too. And I hope you still feel the way you did then, even knowing that I'm part of the Order. That I... I know magic, and use it." He looked like he was ready to get rejected.

"You still know nothing," Hamish whispered. "The fact that you could feel me miss you back and you still think I would chose any other relationship or person over you or let anything get between us... How can you be THAT stupid?"

Y/n socked him on the shoulder. "Asshole."

Hamish just grinned before hooking his finger in Y/n's belt loops. "Your asshole."

"Damn right," Y/n whispered, smirking.

Lilith reached over and chucked a pillow at them. "OKAY OKAY! We do have shit to deal with other than your guys' love life." She was right. The boys parted and everyone got ready to do whatever they had to next to make the scales balanced again. To make it all right.

But as they all headed to the the temple, Y/n leaned over and added, "I owe you a date."

Hamish just smiled at that. "More like you owe me ten."

#hamish duke #the order #knights of saint christopher #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke imagine #nonbinary reader #the order x reader #the order imagine #male reader

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ahtohallan-calling · 5 years ago

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chapter 1 of the food of love is here!

{kristanna / t /modern au / humor and fluff / pride & prejudice inspired}

Legendary food critic Hayden West is known for their scathing reviews of restaurants and wickedly sharp wit. Restaurant owners tremble at the thought of the day the mysterious reviewer will walk through their doors-- never suspecting that Hayden West is, in fact, the redheaded woman with a sketchbook eating a quiet meal alone.

It's an easy enough job for Anna, and she's got her routine down pat, especially with the help of her assistant, Olaf.

And then comes the day she walks into Kristoff Bjorgman's restaurant-- and gets much, much more than she bargained for.

Pencil-- check.

Sketchbook-- check.

Phone, wallet, and keys-- check.

Anna took one last glance at herself in the mirror, smoothing down the navy skirt of her nondescript dress. Her hair, that couldn’t be helped; a wig would stand out even more than the fiery shade of auburn, but she’d pulled it up into a ponytail to keep it mostly out of sight. Simple makeup, plain unbranded shoes-- she appeared entirely unremarkable.

Perfect.

She hummed to herself a little as she locked her apartment and headed towards the stairs. This week’s assignment was easy enough; some new little bistro on the edge of an area that was trendy five years ago.

She liked the little, unfussy places. It was easier to hide when no one cared if she lingered with her sketchbook, easier to see what she was looking for at places where you could hear what was happening in the kitchen while still watching the manager wander around trying to figure out who Hayden West was.

The only clue they ever got was the day Hayden would be there; no photos existed of the mysterious restaurant critic, no matter how many times their scathing reviews went viral. “The Gordon Ramsay of newspaper critics,” that was what the Times had called Hayden after a withering review of a seafood place had garnered a hundred thousand retweets for its description of particularly horrible crab cakes that “deserved neither to be called crab nor cake but perhaps a vaguely saltwater scented cement patty that should be patented and marketed as an instantaneously effective weight loss supplement.”

Anna had been particularly proud of that one. It was a rare day when the food was actually bad enough to warrant such a review on its own; the fact that the manager had gotten into a screaming match that reduced a sixteen year old waitress to tears was simply motivation to hold absolutely nothing back.

She wondered, sometimes, what people would think if they knew the truth: that in fact Hayden had never existed at all and was in fact a twenty-four-year-old woman who’d unexpectedly been promoted into the gig after the man she’d been interning under was unceremoniously given the boot for drunkenly relieving himself on the editor’s lawn, where he had gotten caught by a ferocious Maltese.

The restaurant, thankfully, was only a few blocks away; her car was in desperate need of a replacement everything, but she didn’t have the heart to get rid of it, not when it’d seen her through thick and thin for nearly ten years, from her sixteenth birthday to her college move-ins to her hour long commute to the Tribune’s office for her barely-more-than-unpaid internship.

It came to a creaky halt in front of the restaurant at ten to noon; she’d have just enough time to get seated without having to wait, but she’d bear witness to the midday lunch rush and its aftermath. The place wasn’t much to look at, though she could tell by the small garden out front and the stenciled outlines on the white-painted brick wall that it wasn’t for lack of effort. It had opened only a month ago, the latest in a long line of valiant attempts to put something interesting on this block. If she remembered correctly, six months ago this space had been a design-your-own-lasagna place (wonderful idea, but impossible to execute efficiently); before that, there had been a sugar-free bakery that had been run out of business in two weeks when it was discovered that the only sugar-free thing it sold was bottled water; and even before that, it had been, like most places that were cursed with a constant “for lease” sign, a Jenny Craig.

And now it was just BB’s, a name that was so simple it made her worry that this venture would fail like all its predecessors, especially considering its lack of marketing and online presence; she’d had to send her intern to do some scouting for her to even get her hands on a menu in advance.

“This place is great, boss,” Olaf had said through a mouthful of food as he’d called her on his way back to the office. “They’ve even got cheesecake.”

“With--”

“Chocolate sauce, yeah, yeah, I know how you are. I got the menu for you and had the cute waiter circle all his recommendations, and that was top of the list. Well, not literally top, the desserts are all at the--”

“I knew what you meant, Olaf,” she’d said as she rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “And thanks.”

Now, Anna found herself hoping he had been right about this place when she pushed the door open, bells jingling overhead; it had been far too long since she’d gotten the chance to write an enthusiastic endorsement of a place that really deserved it. To her surprise, only one other table was taken by two men, one broad-shouldered and blond, the other dark-haired and sporting a wide smile the second he laid eyes on her.

“Hi!” he said brightly, leaping to his feet and wiping his hands on his apron. “Welcome to BB’s! Table for one?”

“Yes, please,” she said, returning his smile after a moment’s confusion; if the place was as good as Olaf had said, why was it this desolate on a Saturday at lunchtime?

“I’m Ryder, and I’ll be taking care of you today,” the waiter said, pulling a chair out for her at a table next to the window. “Let me grab you a menu, okay?”

“Thanks,” Anna said, her focus instead on the other man as he rose to his feet and ambled over to the door that led to the kitchen. He was even taller-- and broader, Jesus but those shoulders-- than she’d realized at first.

This place must have been an old-fashioned diner once upon a time, judging by the window to the kitchen through which she could still see him. He was handsome, she supposed, if you liked men with strong jaws and broad noses and floppy golden hair.

And brown eyes, she thought, her cheeks turning bright red as he looked up and caught her staring. She jerked her attention away just as Ryder said cheerfully “Here you go!” as he put a laminated menu on the table in front of her. “The soup of the day is minestrone. What would you like to drink?”

“Water, please, and a coffee,” she said, still trying to cover her embarrassment.

“I’ll brew some fresh for you and be right back,” he said, that broad grin still plastered to his face as he bustled back to the kitchen.

Anna fidgeted a little in her seat as she pulled out her sketchbook. The whole point of her job was going unnoticed, but if she was the only customer in the restaurant today-- shit, this could blow her whole cover, considering each restaurant knew in advance that Hayden was coming that day.

For now, though, she had to worry about her notes, and so she began to sketch the interior of the restaurant in the notepad. She was no great artist by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the best way she’d found to remember her thoughts and impressions of a restaurant without having to worry about prying eyes reading over her shoulder. With each detail she drew, she thought of something specific-- friendly waiter as she scribbled the outline of the door, not busy, why? for the back of a chair, clean, good health rating posted for the box of the kitchen window.

And the menu-- she glanced over it as she doodled it. Simple, Italian-American fare; judging by the names-- Cliff’s Favorite, a deep-dish pizza with meatballs, and Ronnie’s Ravioli-- these were family recipes. She couldn’t help but wonder about what the chef’s family was like as she dared to steal another peek at him. He was working on prepping something, his forehead furrowed in concentration, and if she noticed the way his shoulders strained against his white t-shirt as he did so...well, so long as he didn’t catch her looking again, what did it matter?

The bells over the door jingled, startling her, and she turned to see a chattering group of six friends come in. A feeling of relief washed over her; she hated to see places like this go under fast.

Ryder set her coffee down in front of her, winking as he dropped a couple of creamers beside it, before scurrying over to seat the newcomers. She took a sip as her phone buzzed with a text from Olaf.

how is it?

Good so far. Decent coffee. Not many people here, though, can you send some friends?

aye aye, captain. i’ll remind them to do a better job of pretending not to recognize you this time lol

God, it was hard to remember how she’d used to do this without him. When Hans had first been fired and she’d been unceremoniously promoted into his newly vacant position, she’d spent the first few weeks scrambling to find a restaurant that actually deserved the sort of bad review Hayden West was known for. Hans, of course, had never had such scruples, but it felt wrong to Anna to make a mockery of a place and risk running it out of business when it was run by perfectly nice people, even if they did have a watery hollandaise. She’d used to rely on word of mouth and her own scouting expeditions to try and find places that really deserved it, but it wasn’t until she’d found the place with the shitty crab cakes that she’d finally found a manager who was a big enough asshole to deserve every bad review the place got.

The problem, though, was that when the review had gone viral, it had spelled a complete shutdown for the restaurant. After spending two sleepless nights worrying about the impact it’d have on the rest of the staff, Anna had gone for a second visit-- this time ordering a simple salad that still managed to be disgusting-- and pulled one of the waiters aside, asking about the plans the rests of the staff had for a next job.

And, because that had been her lucky day, the waiter had been Olaf, and he’d been just as enthusiastic as she was about helping connect the rest of the staff with new places more than willing to hire them on-- and he didn’t ask any questions about why, exactly, she cared so much. But when Anna had asked what Olaf himself was looking for as a next step, he’d blushed and admitted, “Honestly, I’m on a break from college right now. Journalism major-- not sure if it’s worth finishing, you know?”

Anna had confessed then for the very first time that she was, in fact, the legendary Hayden West-- or at least his successor-- expecting him to react with shock and, if she was being honest, a bit of awe, but instead Olaf had burst into laughter.

“Obviously,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “I saw the way you were looking around the place and heard the questions you were asking. Secret’s safe with me, though.”

She’d called her boss the same day asking to bring him on as a paid intern, and neither of them had looked back since. Olaf had a knack for finding disgruntled waitstaff in the Tri-State area complaining on Twitter and Reddit about their shitty bosses, then following up with them after Hayden’s reviews were published to make sure that they and their coworkers had a better place to work, either because their managers had seen the light or because they had moved on to greener pastures.

One of the tricks they’d developed together was sending in decoys if Anna was ever worried about getting caught. Olaf had a whole network of friends who were more than willing to show up to restaurants at a moment’s notice and eat a meal on the Tribune’s dime.

Today, though, she needed a certain pair of them to make sure this went smoothly.

Send the two improv kids, she texted back. They’ve got their work cut out for them-- this place is deserted. They have to act extra Hayden-y.

Olaf replied with only a thumbs-up emoji. Anna sighed and sat back in her seat, and a moment later Ryder appeared by her side. “Ready to order?” he asked, wearing another bright smile.

Extra attentive-- she’d add that to the sketch later. “Yeah,” she said, skimming the menu quickly again. Honestly, so far, this place hit every mark of a restaurant worth one of Hayden’s really positive reviews, which, thanks to the column’s usual reputation, went even more viral than the venomous ones-- not every day that a renowned cynic actually liked something.

There was just one more test, the one that elevated a good place to a great one, great enough that she’d come back to on her own time and money and bring her sister along for the ride.

“I’ll just have the spaghetti, please,” she said with her sunniest smile.

Ryder nodded and turned away, whistling to himself, and she glanced up at the clock over his head.

Five minutes and counting, she thought. Fingers crossed this goes the way I want.

---

a/n: THANK YOU to molly, laura, and melissa for helping me brainstorm and plan this one out!!extra thanks to molly and to johanna for helping me with some of the restaurant stuff, to ronnie for helping me decide what kind of restaurant kristoff would have, and as always, to creative director gabi :')

#kristanna #my fics #p&p&p

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 5 years ago

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Complexities Unknowable Chapter 3

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274334/chapters/57175900

Chapter Two link: https://tha-best-url-evar.tumblr.com/post/614327945408987136/complexities-unknowable-chapter-two

MasterPost

Relationships: Established Relationship Dukeceit, eventual intrualiceit, background analogince.

Warnings: Remus says some things (mentions of biblically accurate angels, gore art description), food mention, mild sleep deprivation, cursing. As always everyone is sympathetic. Roast me if I forgot something.

Word Count: 1,851

Remus was, once again, sitting on the counter in the light side kitchen. It was an ungodly early hour of morning, so the Commons were deserted. He was supposed to be waiting for Morality, according to the spiteful little plot Dee had offered him that he hadn’t listened to all that well, but he surmised it meant he was supposed to fuck with a light side, so… Duh. Of course he was in.

Truth be told, three out of four of the self-proclaimed ‘light sides’ hardly bothered him! They were stuffy prudes, sure, but their insults slid off his back like blood off of steel. As long as he was doing his own thing with Deceit alongside him, everything was fine (he was still pointedly ignoring the existence of another Creativity). But looks like what Deceit wanted to do was torment Patton into, like, repenting? Or something? Like he said, he wasn’t listening.

Anyway! Waiting and watching was what he was doing! And doodling, because sitting still was literally impossible in Remus’ experience. Thankfully, he soon saw the paternal trait springing down the stairs. Straightening his back, The Duke put on his best intimidating face (which he thought looked rather silly, but Deceit assured him was very unsettling). He set down his sketchbook and blurred his edges. It didn’t work very well up here, but it was a little trick that they’d all- Virgil included- learned years ago. Honestly, he just used it to get cheap scares every now and then.

Patton strolled into the kitchen, whistling some jaunty tune and holy shit , Remus had figured it was some shtick, but was he just a cartoon character all of the time ? That was- sure, very adorable- but mostly all the more entertaining to scare!

“What’s up, Dilf!?”

Patton shrieked, nearly dropping a mug. With wide, startled eyes, he found the source of the noise. Said source watched the emotional trait force his expression into something amicable, laughing loudly.

“Um- good morning, Remus! I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

“That was the point, MoMo,” Remus replied, dragging his claws screechingly down the side of a cabinet; Patton winced at the sound.

“Can I help you with anything?” Read: Why are you still here? Sometimes Remus wondered if he was too good at his job!

“Nope! Just enjoying the atmosphere, sketching, terrorizing…” He flipped onto his back, throwing his arm out and presenting his open notebook.

“You draw?” Patton seemed weirdly happy about that fact, managing a more natural smile. Seemed he thought he’d found something to work with, but that was likely to change.

“Of course I do, I am Creativity, after all! Here .” He handed over the sketchbook with a Cheshire smile. The creative trait had ensured it was flipped open to a detailed depiction of a being composed of several flaming rings, all of which absolutely covered with bloodshot eyes. It had an indiscernible amount of wings that could only be counted as ‘too many’. In the center of the rings was a swirling black void (a type of ink that took Remus weeks to conjure properly, thank you very much).

He watched carefully as Patton studied the image, looking bemused.

“It’s an angel!”

That seemed to only confuse the moral side more, making him tilt his head to a few different angles to look at the drawing. But he still didn’t seem upset by it, oddly enough.

“It certainly is an interesting interpretation,” He responded at last, “and all of these little lines must have taken you forever, that’s so impressive!”

Truth be told, they had taken a while, and Remus was very happy that the effort had been noticed- but that wasn’t the point!

“That’s nothing,” he took the sketchbook back from Patton and flipped through more pages. Aha! This would fuck him up, for sure! A full-color illustration of someone hung up on a meat hook, rib cage pried open like a spike trap to reveal very painstakingly rendered organs. He was actually quite proud of this one.

The only response that Patton gave, however, was a slight wrinkling of his nose when he first saw it, followed by more quiet observation.

“What do you think?” Remus prompted, watching as Patton set the drawing back down on the counter and began to assemble things for breakfast, seemingly unaffected.

“I wish I could draw that well, but I’m still not super good at it,” he said admiringly.

“I had to crack open my own ribs to make sure it was accurate, you know!”

Morality yelped at that one- score one for Remus! Finally!

“You wanna see my re-imaginings of my favorite Final Destination deaths? I’ve painted some with real- well, conjured- but real enough blood!”

But Patton didn’t even flinch this time; he looked more determined even!

“Art is a healthy outlet for expressing yourself,” he was almost certainly parroting Logan there, and he even seemed to believe the statement. Perhaps Remus would have to be a little more creative to get more reactions.

. “I agree! I didn’t expect you to have such an open-minded point of view. I’ll be sure you’re the first side to know when I make my next amateur taxidermy sculpture! Emphasis on the amateur!”

“Great!” Patton practically shouted, very stubbornly staring at the stove.

Before Remus had the chance to continue, the distinct sounds of Logan and Roman arguing their way downstairs met his ears, and he cut himself off. That was enough for one day, he decided. And anyhow, he looked forward to trying new ways to bother Patton next morning.

Deceit rose into the shadows of the Light Side commons with a smirk. It was an awful hour of the night, which was part of the plan. Not only was Patton the first awake in the morning, he was also often the last to sleep. Deceit supposed that Logan was looking after Roman and Virgil’s sleep schedules nowadays, which made it much easier to catch the artificial patriarch alone. That isn’t to imply that Dee had been tracking their schedules or anything, but the overwhelming lie that Morality surrounded himself with made him easy to track- especially in the night, when he had to pretend even harder that he was fine without the presence of his little family. Deceit entertained the idea that he should feel bad for the side, and maybe he did somewhere deep down. Deep, deep down. No, further than that.

Regardless of any such feelings, he was here to mess with Patton. Still unnoticed, he watched quietly as his target scrolled through Netflix, illuminated only by the dim glow of the television. The side looked so tired that he could’ve passed as a corpse, but gave a tiny smile after finally selecting whatever it was he was going to watch.

Wait. Wait. He was watching that ?

Deceit stared at the unmistakable green text that was the intro to The Good Place playing across the screen. If there was one thing he was expecting Patton to watch (Cartoons? Friends reruns? Slime videos?), it wasn't his own favorite show.

“Hm.” Deceit hummed.

In response, Patton shrieked and fell halfway off the couch. His head darted around until he finally spotted Deceit, who had slid down to sit on the sofa as well.

“Oh- um- good evening, Deceit! Wow, today is just full of surprises!”

“ Surely you won’t mind if I join you? This is one of my favorite shows, after all.”

Patton fixed his position so that he was no longer partially on the floor and looked the snake up and down. He paused the episode.

“ Really ?”

“Really,” and then, after some trepidation, “Honestly.”

Suddenly, Patton lit up dramatically, a happy smile stretching across his face. Fuck, wrong direction, Deceit wasn’t supposed to be cheering him up!

“I’m surprised that someone like you would like it,” Deceit continued hastily. Patton’s smile fell a little and he tipped his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ,” He lounged back against the couch, “I didn’t think you’d approve of a show where all of the characters are such bad people .”

“What?! The whole point is that they aren’t bad!” Good, Back on track .

“Oh? Then what are they? Last I checked, the main character was very selfish .”

“I- okay, I see what you’re trying to do,” Patton turned to face Deceit entirely, “But they’re- they also-”

“Also what ?” Deceit was also sitting sideways on the couch now, his eyes glinting. He was certain that he’d talked the trait into a corner, which was why he was so utterly unprepared for Patton’s response.

“It’s, like, they all start off not great, but that’s because they were all set up for failure before the afterlife! They had it hard before dying, but when they were finally given the chance to actually get better, then they got better! They aren’t perfect , but they care about each other! And I think it really shows that sometimes, somebody can be wrong over and over and over again, but that doesn’t mean that they’re hopeless, or that they’re a bad friend, or…” He trailed off, looking down at his lap and blinking very quickly. “Or that they’re a bad person.”

Suddenly, Deceit wasn’t that sure that he wanted to see Patton upset anymore.

After a very uncomfortable silence that lasted far too long for his liking, the scaled side realized that he should probably be the one to say something.

“That’s… a very in depth analysis, Morality. I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Thanks,” Patton replied. When he looked up, his eyes held an odd recognition. It was a look that no Light Side had ever given Deceit, but they gave it to each other plenty of times. The side in question wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he sure knew that he was uncomfortable.

“So… The show…” He prompted.

“Oh, right!”

Patton pressed play.

Deceit had planned on doing some more provoking of Patton as they watched, but he found himself rather caught up in the program. The conversation he did end up making with the other incidentally slipped into chatting about their shared views on the show. It was almost nice. Maybe. Whatever.

After a few episodes, Deceit elected to return home for the night. As he was sinking out, he heard a sleepy voice bidding him farewell.

“G’night, Kiddo.”

He popped up in his bedroom after that, eyes quickly landing on a half-asleep Remus half-watching Saw 4 . The lights were dimmed to a glow, and the TV’s volume was so low that it might have been inaudible to anyone other than the more animalistic sides.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Deceit murmured warmly, sitting beside his fellow Dark side. The trait yawned and rubbed his eyes, instinctively leaning into him.

“Wanted to,” he responded, voice groggy, “How’d it go?”

Deceit snapped his fingers to change into sleep clothes, reaching across Remus to flick off the lamp. As he settled in to semi-watch the movie, fingers automatically moving to card through his partner’s hair, he carefully considered the question.

“Fucking. Weird.”

Chapter 4

Tags: @deceits-left-glove @princemesscharming

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chloelucia13 · 5 years ago

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Chapter 5: The Flea and the Acrobat

Pairing: none of the moment (currently Jonathan Byers x platonic!Henderson!reader)

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: The plan the three of you created was solid, and you all thought you were prepared to kill whatever took Will and finally bring him home. Things never go how they’re planned, though, do they?

Warnings: a little angst, a little fluff, language, violence (finally!!!), horror elements, gore

Word Count: 3720

A/N: New part! I hope you guys enjoy! As always, the tag list for this series is open!

Catch up: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

As soon as you had settled down onto your bed, a knock at the front door made you get back up.

You yanked the door open after shooing Mews away, letting out a huff. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, however, when you saw who was at your door. “Jonathan. What’s going on?”

Jonathan let out a sigh. “Lonnie is at the house,” he explained gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“What?” You shook your head slightly. W-Why? Did he do something to you?”

He shook his head. “He’s just... There. I’m guessing for the funeral, but...”

“That’s bullshit.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement, pursing his lips.

“Well, do you want to stay the night here? Or do you want me to go over there?”

“No, no. It’s okay. I just... Needed to get out for a second.”

You nodded slowly, stepping to the side to let him in. “Did he say anything to you?” you questioned as you both walked back to your room.

“Said that mom is sick. That I’m pushing her over the edge. Told me to behave at the funeral tomorrow.” He huffed, sitting down on your bed. “Said that I should take down my Evil Dead poster because it was ‘inappropriate.’”

“God, what a fucking douche bag,” you grumbled, flopping down onto your bean bag chair. “He’s telling you to behave? And that you’re pushing your mom over the edge?” Your face felt hot, hands beginning to shake. “Fuck him!”

He sighed, tugging on the loose strings of your comforter. “It’s like he wasn’t the one who came home drunk every night and then left us to fend for ourselves.”

“He’ll be gone soon, trust me. Either your mom is gonna kick him out or...”

“Or?”

“Or I’m gonna kill him.”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t kill him. He’s not worth the effort or the prison time.”

You laughed along with him, standing up and walking over to him. “Yeah I guess you’re right.” You sat down next to him on the bed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “... I’m scared, Jonathan.”

He took your hand in his and traced his fingers along the lines on your palm. “Why are you nervous?”

You shrugged slightly. “What if...” You shook your head. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

He sighed and pulled away slightly, touching your chin to tilt your head up so you could look him in the eye. “Don’t say that. Your fears aren’t stupid.”

You offered him a small smile before taking a deep breath, gathering your emotions. “What if... Whatever took Will and Barb... What if it takes one of us? Takes me? I mean, I’m no different from them, and we’re actively hunting the thing that took them. It can take me just as easily.”

Jonathan’s hand left your chin, grabbing onto your other hand and holding them tightly. “I’m not gonna let that happen. I’m gonna be right behind you the whole time. Nothing bad is gonna happen, I promise.”

***

You had dreaded getting ready that morning, both because you had to get up early on a Saturday and you had to actually put effort into your look.

You woke up at 8 and trudged to the bathroom, pulling out your mom’s curling iron and getting to work.

It had taken about an hour to get your hair perfect, not too curly but just curly enough that it looked like you made an effort. You sprayed a tiny bit of hairspray and applied some light eye shadow, mascara, blush, and chapstick in the mirror.

Afterwards, you slipped on the black button-down dress that sat in the back of your closet, unworn until that moment, along with your pair of combat boots.

Once you were finished, you stepped out into the living room where your mother and Dustin were waiting.

“You own a dress?” Dustin remarked, half shocked and half teasing.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “God, shut up,” you grumbled.

“You are not wearing those combat boots. There’s a pair of flats in my closet, go put them on,” your mom complained.

You sighed and grabbed your keys. “It’s fine. We’re gonna be late!”

***

The ceremony extremely long, and your feet were aching the entire time (thank god you wore your combat boots). The pastor droned on and on about faith and God and whatnot, placing bible passages between every other sentence.

You stood behind Jonathan, your hands resting on his shoulders and habitually smoothing down his hair, anything to make sure that the both of you didn’t drift off. You kept your eyes on the patch of grass under your feet, unable to look at the small coffin just feet from you. Even if Will’s real body wasn’t in there, the thought of him being dead and stuffed into the ground for the bugs to eat made you nauseous.

As soon as the last flower was tossed on top of the coffin, you and Jonathan hurried out of the crowd after accepting a few weak condolences. Nancy lingered behind for a moment to avoid drawing suspicion.

“I never knew you wore dresses,” Jonathan voiced as you two walked towards the chapel.

You scoffed. “God, that’s the third time today-” you began.

“You look nice. Pretty.”

A blush rose to your cheeks and a small smile crept onto your lips. “Thanks.”

As soon as you felt that you were far enough away, the three of you cowered behind a fenced-off gathering of headstones. Jonathan tugged out a folded up paper from his coat pocket, unfolding it as you all sat down on the dead grass. on the paper was a map of the area where Barb and Will disappeared. “This is where we know for sure it’s been, right,” Jonathan explained, showing you and Nancy the map.

“So that’s-” Nancy started, pointing at one of the areas marked with an x.

“Steve’s house.” Jonathan pointed to another x. “And that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike.” He pointed to the last x. “And that’s my house.”

“It’s all so close.”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is... It’s not traveling far.”

Nancy looked at him. “..You want to go out there.”

He nodded. “We might not find anything.”

“I found something.”

“But if we do see it,” you spoke up, “then what?”

Jonathan sighed, looking off into the distance for a moment before looking back at you and Nancy. “We kill it.”

He shot up all of a sudden, not even waiting for you and Nancy before hurrying over to the parking lot. You and Nancy shared a look before chasing after him, worry immediately settling in your chest when you saw him start to pick the lock for Lonnie’s car. “Jonathan, I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you voiced when he was in earshot, not wanting to shout and draw attention. “What are you even doing?”

He yanked the passenger door open and sat down in the seat, getting to work on the glove compartment. “Just give me a second,” he huffed. After jiggling his blade in the lock, it came undone and he pulled the compartment open. He sifted through the contents before pulling out a pistol and a box of bullets, quickly examining them before stuffing them in his pockets.

“Are you serious?” Nancy ridiculed, jaw dropping.

“What? You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?”

“Jonathan, we’ve just crossed into illegal territory. If Lonnie finds out, he’s gonna sue you for everything you have!” you whisper-yelled, glancing around to make sure no one was looking.

“And that’s why he won’t find out.” He hopped out of the car and slammed the door shut.

“This is a terrible idea,” Nancy argued.

“Yeah, well, it’s the best we’ve got.” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to stay calm. “What? You can tell someone, but they’re not gonna believe you. You know that.”

“Your mom would.”

“She’s been through enough-”

“She deserves to know!”

“Yeah, and I’ll tell her. When this thing is dead.”

You let out a huff and crossed your arms, nodding once. “Fine,” you grumbled.

***

You met Jonathan at the small makeshift shooting range that Lonnie had set up years ago. The cans were rusted and the logs were rotted, but that didn’t seem to bother Jonathan, who was trying his hardest to shoot anything other than the dirt.

“Don’t waste all the bullets, Johnny Boy. We’re gonna need them eventually,” you teased. flashing him a smile.

He let out a chuckle and dropped his arm to his side, turning to face you. His eyes immediately glanced down to the machete you decided to bring with you. “Where did you even find that?” he asked incredulously.

“I stole it from Dustin’s room. Pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re gonna stab one of us from swinging it.”

You rolled your eyes and hummed. “But at least I’ll hit something, Byers.”

“Well played.” He reached his hand out and you handed him the blade. He examined it closely, poking the tip in the ground a few times before handing it back to you.

You took it from his hands and sat down in the dirt, watching as he sat down across from you. “Can I share a theory I have?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“What if the area that this creature is appearing in... What if it’s a ley line?”

“What’s a ley line?”

“It’s these lines that supposedly align prehistoric monuments and things like that. But it’s supposed to bring along energy. Maybe this area is on a ley line, and it’s bringing along this extra energy that led to all this weird stuff happening and this... thing.”

“I mean, it’s possible.”

You let out a sigh, tracing the tip of the machete in the dirt and creating random doodles. “The problem is, if it was on a ley line, these weird things would’ve been happening for a long time. It doesn’t make sense for it to randomly start happening now.”

You two sat in silence for a moment, nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard footsteps approaching. You jumped up from the ground and pointed your blade at the source.

“Jesus!” Nancy exclaimed, holding her hands up in the air, her bat dropping to the ground.

“Sorry, just a little... Jumpy,” you sighed, lowering the machete back down to your side. “Hopefully you don’t drop your bat when there’s an actual threat,” you teased, picking it up and handing it back to her.

Meanwhile, Jonathan had returned to the metallic targets, firing at them but never hitting them.

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?” Nancy hummed, stepping closer to him.

He chuckled. “No, actually, you see the spaces between the cans? I’m aiming for those,” he joked, a small smile on his face.

“Ah.” She shrugged off her shoulder bag, tossing that and her bat alongside your things.

“You ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffed. “Have you met my parents?”

“I’m surprised your dad doesn’t have one hidden away in his bedside drawer, just in case the commies come for him,” you teased, nudging her shoulder with yours.

Jonathan chuckled, emptying out the shells into his hand. “I haven’t shot a gun since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit.”

“A rabbit?” Nancy voiced, concerned.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me more of a man or something. I cried for a week.”

“Jesus.”

“What? I’m a fan of Thumper.”

“I mean your dad.”

“Yeah. I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point. but... I wasn’t around for that part.” He quickly loaded six bullets into the chamber and cocked the gun. Nancy reached her hand out, offering to try, and he handed it to her with no hesitance. “Uh, yeah. Just point and shoot.”

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.”

“They must have married for some reason.”

“My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family...”

You began to zone out at that moment, your own thoughts that you were too scared to voice swarming in your mind. Your tongue was literally in-between your teeth, trying your hardest to speak your mind.

You nearly bit through your tongue when Nancy shot the gun, the bullet connecting with the can and making it fly to the ground. Your thoughts scattered like startled birds, and you blinked your eyes a few times to get yourself focused back into the present.

“Y/N?” Jonathan voiced, his hand touching your shoulder, making you jump. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m good.”

***

The tip of your nose and your fingers felt numb as you walked, the cold effectively chilling them to the point where they were bright red. Thoughts of regret continuously popped in your head, telling yourself that you should have stayed home instead of freezing your ass off in the Indiana woods.

“You never said what I was saying,” Nancy voiced, tearing the blanket of silence.

“What?” Jonathan responded, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yesterday. You said I was saying something and that was why you took my picture.”

“Oh, uh... I don’t know.” he was silent for a moment, pondering. “My guess... I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else. But for that moment, it was like you were alone, or you thought you were. And, you know, you could just be yourself.”

Nancy was silent for a moment. “... That is such bullshit.”

Jonathan stopped in his tracks for a moment, nearly making you run into him, before he began walking again. “What?”

Nancy stopped, prompting everyone to stop, as well. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him-”

Jonathan sighed and stomped forward. “You know what, just forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.”

Nancy followed behind him, forcing you to keep up with them. “He’s actually a good guy.”

“Okay.”

“Yesterday, with the camera...” She rushed to catch up with him. “He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” He huffed and attempted to storm off.

“Oh, and I guess what you did was okay?”

“No, I-I never said that.”

“He had every right to be pissed-”

“Okay, alright. Does that mean I have to like him?” Jonathan stopped and turned to face her, which gave you some time to catch up to them.

“No.”

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people, he’s in the fast majority.” He huffed and turned on his heel to walk away once more.

“You know, I was actually starting to think you were okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was thinking ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’“

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay.”

“Oh-”

“I was thinking ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales and they live out a boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac., exactly like their parents who they thought were so depressing but now, hey, they get it.’“

“God, can you guys grow up for once in your goddamn lives!” you finally screamed, making them both jump and turn to you. “If you guys had forgotten what the point of this whole fucking thing is, it’s to find Will and whatever that thing is that took him. Can you guys just deal with each other for one fucking night!”

“Y/N-” Nancy began.

“And at least you guys know who your dad is, because I sure as fucking hell don’t!” Tears welled in your eyes and you looked up at the sky to keep them from falling.

They were both silent, eyes glued on you as you fell apart. “Y/N,” Jonathan voiced this time.

You cast your gaze back down to the ground, shaking your head slightly before stomping away, tears slipping down your cheeks.

***

The sun had already set, leaving the woods completely barren of light, save for your tiny handheld flashlights you all carried.

None of you had spoken a word since the blow up, which happened about 2 hours ago. You could feel the dried tear tracks lingering on your cheeks, but you didn’t dare wipe them away to show Nancy and Jonathan that you had been crying.

You nearly collided with Nancy when she suddenly stopped, almost unnoticed by you due to your lingering stare towards the ground.

“What, are you tired?” Jonathan sighed, turning to you two.

“Shut up,” Nancy commanded, glancing around nervously.

“What?”

“I heard something.”

Suddenly, a sharp whimper pierced through the air, sounding as though it was coming from only yards away.

Your brows furrowed in thought for a moment before turning towards the sound and walking that way, not waiting for Nancy and Jonathan. The whimpering grew louder and more persistent with each step, causing fear to brew in the pit of your stomach.

As you shone your flashlight around, something reflective sparkled under the light, in the same area that the whimpering was coming from. Gripping the handle of your machete tightly, you made your way over to the source, your jaw dropping in horror when you finally came across the sight of a wounded deer laying in the brush.

“Oh, god,” Nancy choked out, all of you focusing your light on the wounded animal.

Slowly, you all knelt down in front of it, trying to avoid scaring it.

“It’s been hit by a car,” Nancy voiced.

You shook your head, gently reaching out and pointing at the deep cuts along its side. “A car doesn’t leave bite marks like this. Something attacked it,” you explained, gingerly gliding your fingertips along its un-wounded leg.

“We can’t just leave it.”

You nodded, bile rising in your throat as you pushed yourself to your feet. “It hasn’t lost enough blood for it to bleed out quickly.”

Nancy stared down at the pistol in her hand, then looked back at the deer.

“I’ll do it,” Jonathan voiced, holding his hand out.

“Jonathan,” you sighed, reaching out and touching his shoulder for a moment.

Nancy hesitated. “I thought you said-” she began.

“I’m not nine anymore.” He took the gun from her hand and they both rose to their feet, stepping back next to you.

You held back a sob and slowly turned around, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the gunshot.

Suddenly, Nancy and Jonathan jumped back in horror, Jonathan tightly grabbing onto your arm.

“What happened?” you asked, spinning around to look at the deer, only to see a bloodied patch of grass where it once laid.

“Something took it, something grabbed it,” Jonathan rushed out, letting his hand fall from your arm, fingers grazing against yours for a split second.

“Could it have been a bobcat? Or a wolf?”

He shook his head. “It was too quick. There’s no way.”

You let out a sigh and gulped, tightening your grip on your machete before walking forward, following the bloody trail left behind.

“Where’d it go?” Nancy voiced, glancing around quickly.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan sighed. “Do you see any more blood?”

“No,” you huffed, shining your flashlight around. “It just... Stopped.”

Jonathan nodded and turned around, going the way you just came from. You and Nancy searched for more blood, slowly walking along the line and glancing forward at the large tree in front of you.

“Nancy,” you whispered, nudging her and gesturing at the base of the tree, which appeared to be dripping with something blood-like.

“What the hell is that?” she questioned, both of you crouching down and examining the cavernous and bloodied hole.

“Sometimes animals store their food in tree trunks, but the animal doesn’t just... Disappear after.” You sighed and got down on your hands and knees, slowly inching into the tree.

It looked as if the hole in the tree continued forever, with no clear end in sight. With a sigh, you scooted forward, trying to keep the contents of your stomach from coming up at the awful smell of the odd substance that coated the insides of the tree, reeking of spit and gore and rot. Nancy followed close behind you, her gags and gulps audible.

You had finally reached what appeared to be an exit, covered by an odd membrane-like barrier. You poked the tip of your blade through it and tore it open, slipping through the new opening and coming out on the other side, feeling as if you were just born again.

Nancy came out right behind you, both of you immediately rising to your feet and glancing around, your view slightly impaired due to your flashlight which now began to flicker.

The air seemed thicker, somehow, and odd ashy particles floated around the air. Everything appeared grayer and dingier, and odd purple vines covered the forest floor and the trees.

“Where are we?” Nancy whispered, to which you could only respond with a shake of your head. You stepped forward, holding your machete out in front of you.

A loud snarl sounded to the right of you, both of you turning to view the source.

An odd, gangling and pale creature stood hunched over, feasting on the remains of the deer that you had found earlier. You covered your mouth, feeling Nancy slowly step back.

A twig snapped underneath her feet.

The creature turned to you two, letting out a horrifying roar. He had no eyes, no face, just five petals of skin flared out, covered in rows of sharp teeth. You both let out screams and turned the other way, sprinting as fast as your bodies would allow to get as far away from the creature as possible.

As your heart pounded in your ears, you could hear the faint echo of Jonathan’s voice screaming for Nancy.

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cannibalisticapple · 6 years ago

Text

So around a week or two ago I sent an anonymous ask to @corndog-patrol suggesting Villain Mic finding a Cat!Shouta. When I saw it on my phone in the car, I had to stop myself from reading until I could get home and look at it in full on my computer. It has been so much better than I could have ever imagined.

Seeing all the doodles and artwork so far has been a HUGE inspiration for me, and I ended up writing this over the past week. Because I am physically incapable of writing anything short, it kinda ballooned to almost 8k words, partially because I ended up adding to it as more art was posted. The majority of it was written before the bowtie pic though, including the opening scene. (Fun fact: I originally called Shouta “Pepper”.)

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, well, anything to Tumblr, so apologies for any weird formatting issues! And thanks again to @corndog-patrol for making such a great Villain Mic AU! Anyways, enjoy!

The Adventures of Puddles

Given his known fondness for cats, most of Shouta’s friends and colleagues often teased him about how getting hit by a Quirk that turned him into a cat would be a dream come true for him.

They were wrong.

The hero-turned-feline felt thoroughly irritated as he loped down the street, the heavy downpour soaking him thoroughly and weighing down his thick black fur with water. He’d been turned into a cat while heading to UA just that evening, and since then he’d been rather unhappy. Nemuri had laughed her head off when she found him halfway to her apartment with his goggles around his neck and his capture weapon dragging along the ground behind him, which really hadn’t helped much.

Considering he’d been found by Nemuri relatively fast, he should be safe and dry right now, but then Nemuri had taken him to UA. Logically it made sense of course, Shouta would be safe there and he’d have easy access to a support network to find a way to reverse the transformation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for how the kids would react. One of them had sighted Nemuri carrying him inside, and Nemuri had no hesitation dumping him on the student with a sadistic grin while she went to meet with the other staff.

After spending an hour being assaulted by his students cooing over him and ruffling him from twenty different directions at once (literally), he’d desperately craved some space and alone time. The sight of Snipe and Cementoss sneaking around with cameras and phones ready, clearly intending to take photos of his ordeal, had been the last push he needed to jump the wall and get away from UA for a bit. He knew the area well enough, he should be safe to walk around a couple hours even as a cat. Key word: should.

It was just his luck he’d get chased by someone’s dog for what must have been half a mile, ending with him lost in an only vaguely familiar part of town. His attempts to find his way back had only succeeded in making him more lost over the ensuing hours, the vaguely familiar scenery giving way to buildings he absolutely did not recognize. And of course, it also had to start raining shortly after that.

Right now, he just wanted to get out of the heavy rain. He was wet, cold, tired, and felt sore in ways he didn’t even know possible until being turned into a cat. Turns out having your body undergo a radical physical transformation tended to put some stress on muscles and preexisting injuries. Go figure. At least his dry eye hadn’t seemed to transfer over, but that didn’t make him any less stressed.

The feeling only amplified when he stepped in a puddle and proceeded to plummet into it with a startled yowl, water splashing everywhere. Of course this sidewalk would have a giant hole in it that flooded with water and turned into a miniature, cat-sized bath. The hole was deep enough his head barely stuck above the water, the chilly temperature making him shudder. He scrabbled at the edges with an annoyed growl, trying to pull himself out.

“Hey, you okay little buddy?” The voice behind him made him freeze, the fur on his back standing on end. Shit. He knew that voice. His head whipped around to see a man crouching behind him, and while he wasn’t wearing his costume, Shouta couldn’t think of anyone else with a loud voice who also sported a stupid mustache like that. This had to be Present Mic.

Great, just great, he thought sarcastically. For some odd reason the idiot wasn’t wearing a raincoat in this weather, his long blond hair partially pulled into a bun with the loose strands plastered to his face and shoulders by the rain. How the guy could even see with all those water droplets on his glasses was beyond Shouta. “Oh man, I always said someone was gonna fall into this stupid thing. Come on, let’s get you out.”

Shouta silently glowered at the villain as he reached out to him but made no effort to push him away. Trying to get a good grip on the pavement was tricky with the rain making everything so slippery. Maybe if he could figure out how to get his claws to pop out, but he’d yet to figure out a lot of his new form’s functions. Frankly, the fact he could walk at all was a miracle considering he’d never used a four-legged body before.

So the sulking cat allowed the blond villain to carefully slip his hands around Shouta’s... armpits? Well, his hands went between around the edges of his front legs and shoulders, so, close enough—and pull him out of the hole. Rather than put him down like he expected though, Mic shifted his hold to carry the grumpy feline, turning to walk to a nearby apartment building. “Come on, let’s get you inside so we can dry you off. My place is just over there!”

...And now Mic was taking him to his apartment. Crap. Shouta naturally began to struggle, wanting to get the hell back to UA instead, but Mic had a surprisingly strong grip. In the end he gave up and just sulked in the villain’s arms with a grumpy scowl as the blond draped a towel over him, resigned to his fate. At least he was out of the rain.

“Oh man, you’re lucky I found you!” Mic commented, looking down at him with a concerned frown. “A lil’ fella like yourself could drown in all that rain!” He switched on the light switch by the door, illuminating one of the most rundown and shabby apartments Shouta had ever seen. And considering his meager salary as an underground hero, he’d seen a lot of crummy places while apartment hunting. “You’ll be safe here, just make yourself at home you little cutie!”

Shouta just silently scowled at his current predicament. He just wanted to get warm and dry and take a nice, long nap until this stupid Quirk wore off. (It better wear off.)

The Quirk did not wear off.

Morning found Shouta still very much a feline, much to his ire. He woke up well before Mic, the blond snoozing away in his bedroom (Shouta had chosen to sleep on the couch, which had literal patches sewn on it, he’d never seen that outside cartoons), and Shouta felt no small amount of irritation at the fact he still had this stupid feline body. At least he was warm and dry now. That didn’t make him any happier about the situation though.

A glance at the bathroom mirror had revealed himself to be particularly mangy and stocky rather than sleek and agile-looking like most cats. His long hair had turned into thick, shaggy fur, the black coloration adding an air of dirtiness as opposed to the soft and fluffy feeling exuded by Mic’s actual cat. Sprinkles, if the name written on the food bowl was accurate.

Speaking of the food bowl, Mic was now beaming down at Shouta as he sat next to the now-full bowl. “Come on, it’s safe to eat!” Mic goaded—nay, practically pleaded with him, his mouth pulled into a pout as he looked down at Shouta. “You have to be hungry, little guy!”

Shouta just glowered at him, ignoring the bowl. Nope. Not gonna eat that. He might be a cat for now (seriously this stupid thing better wear off on its own), but he was NOT going to eat cat food.

Mic sighed, seeming to accept the fact as he turned to begin rifling through the cabinet. Good, looks like he got the picture and was looking for something else to feed him. “It’s the bowl, right?” he muttered. Wait, what? Mic turned around holding a cracked plastic soup bowl, dumping another scoop of kitty kibble into it before setting it next to Shouta. “There! This bowl doesn’t smell like Sprinkles, so it should be good, right?”

He beamed down at Shouta, clearly proud of his understanding of cats. Shouta just stared at him blandly, making no move to touch it, and Mic soon deflated. “Eh, you’ll get hungry try it eventually,” he muttered, turning away with a sigh and trudging off to his bedroom. Shouta watched him leave with a blank face, still pointedly ignoring the bowl of cat food.

As he sat there Sprinkles sauntered over and plopped down on the floor next to him, blinking her large eyes at him as she studied him curiously. Normally, Shouta would be happy to be in the presence of a cat, especially one who seemed as sweet and friendly as Sprinkles. Seeing as he himself was currently a cat, however, he found his joy slightly diminished. He couldn’t exactly pet her with paws, which sucked since her fluffy white fur looked particularly soft and silky.

For now, he settled for patting her leg with his paw to try to satiate the urge. Sadly, it did not have the same effect as running his fingers through her fur. He sulked up until he heard a gasp, and turned to see Mic staring at him with sparkly eyes from the door to his bedroom. He bounced over with a giant grin and bent down next to them. “So adorable!” he gushed, rubbing Shouta’s head affectionately.

At this point, Shouta’s broody mood outweighed the urge to claw off his hand.

“So, I already have Sprinkles,” Mic mused aloud, “So what do you think of the name... Pickles?”

Scratch that. Shouta proceeded to do so literally, highly satisfied by the startled and pained yelp from the blond.

“Ow! Ow! Okay, not Pickles! Ouch, that really hurts!”

Day two of being a cat. Shouta was now covered in clothes while Mic loudly rooted through his dresser.

“Where is that shirt?” Mic grumbled to himself, tossing a pair of jeans over his shoulder. Why he apparently stored pants and shirts in the same drawers, Shouta had no idea. Why did a person need this many clothes? Granted, he barely bothered with more than the minimal amount needed himself. But still.

Also, what was that guy even aiming at? Shouta was sitting in the doorway, not even fully in the room!

Mic made a sound of triumph as he held up a shirt in an eye-searing chartreuse, on the more yellow end of the spectrum. A fact Shouta knew only because he’d spent an hour arguing with one of his students over demanding to use the color in their costume two years ago. Why. Why did anyone have clothing in that shade.

Mic turned around with a grin, but his smile quickly faded to a look of confusion. “Puddles? Puddles, where are you?” Shouta’s eye twitched, still displeased with the name (seriously, what was with this guy’s preoccupation with English words?), but it beat literally every other suggestion the villain had. Even if he didn’t like the whole reminder of being pulled out of a puddle.

He gave a displeased mrow and Mic blinked and bent down next to the discarded pile of clothes, lifting up a pants leg to see Shouta’s eyes glowering up at him. “Oh, there you are, you silly baby!” Shouta glared at him, willing all his disdain to show through his eyes. Mic was unfazed. “Aw, geez, now I need to wash the hair off this stuff!” Mic playfully scolded as he started picking up the clothes.

You literally threw it on me, Shouta thought silently. You have no one to blame but yourself for this. He waited patiently for Mic to lift the clothes off him, depositing them on his bed to be washed later. Shouta took silent pleasure in the glimpse of black hairs stuck to them.

Mic pulled on the eye-searing shirt while Shouta continued to sit and brood, chattering all the while. “Man, I am so stoked to see this band tonight! I feel kinda bad leaving you alone here all day when you’re still getting used to the place, but you’ll have Sprinkles to keep you company so you shouldn’t be too lonely!” He grabbed what Shouta presumed to be his work uniform and folded the shirt over his arm, giving Shouta a final pet as he strode past him. Shouta remained in place, pointedly ignoring him as he continued to sulk and brood.

Approximately ten seconds later Mic returned, looking notably dejected. “Your bowl is still full,” he said glumly. “Are you seriously on some sort of hunger strike?” Shouta made a rumbling noise halfway between a meow and a grumble, and Mic groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “C’mon, Puddles, I’m on a limited budget here! Do I need to steal expensive food for you?”

Shouta responded with a pointed glare. He would NOT condone Mic stealing cat food for him. As a hero, he couldn’t allow even the most trivial of crimes, even if they had good intentions behind them. Plus, he had a feeling the blond would try feeding him a wet canned food next, and the thought of the slimy-looking can-shaped meat chunk just made him want to shudder.

(He pointedly ignored the fact he stole one of the pieces of chicken from Mic’s dinner last night when the blond wasn’t looking. He was a cat right now, cats did not need to obey any laws, and snagging food from someone’s plate wasn’t exactly illegal anyway.)

“I still have that concert tonight so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Mic sighed, and then nodded to himself with a look of renewed resolve. “I can’t let you starve though! We’ll have to improvise for now!” He marched off to the kitchen, and Shouta followed silently, letting himself feel a glimmer of hope. That hope was soon rewarded when he found Mic rooting through the fridge, pulling out a can of sardines.

Not my first choice but I’ll take it. Shouta trotted over as Mic put it on a paper plate, hopping onto the counter to begin chowing down before he could even pick up the plate. Relief visibly flooded Mic’s face as he ate, his shoulders slumping and a breath of air escaping him. “Oh thank goodness, I was getting worried there! Kinda picky for a stray though, aren’tcha?” Shouta just rumbled in the back of his throat, too busy eating to respond otherwise.

“Welp, I gotta run if I want to get to work on time,” Mic said, glancing at the clock. “See you later, cool cats! Sprinkles, make sure Puddles doesn’t get into trouble while I’m gone!” The white cat meowed in response, and with a jaunty wave Mic departed, the click of the door shutting and locking ringing particularly heavily in the ensuing silence. Shouta’s head snapped up, eyes locking on the door.

Okay, he’s finally gone. Time to see if I can find an escape route. Shouta had no intention of staying here absolutely longer than necessary; the sooner he found someone he knew, the better. Finishing off the sardines, he leaped off the counter and made his way to the door, determined to get out.

Ten minutes of trying to open it later, he found his resolve faltering though. Cat paws just weren’t good for turning round doorknobs, even with the advantage of knowing how they worked. And that didn’t even account for trying to just reach it. There were no convenient surfaces near the handle to stand on, so he spent most of those ten minutes just hopping up and down trying to reach it.

As he found himself clinging to the knob with all four limbs trying desperately not to slide off, he finally conceded this probably wouldn’t work.

Letting himself fall to the ground, he proceeded to sullenly slink to the rest of the apartment to search for an alternate route. He’d neglected to explore the apartment the previous day beyond the bathroom and the main living space, as he’d rather not look around a villain’s place too much. Beyond the whole “don’t intend to stay more than a day” thing, he didn’t really feel keen on the “invasion of privacy” thing. The man might be technically a villain, but honestly, Shouta viewed him as more of a nuisance than dangerous.

After checking the window in the living room and confirming it would be even more of a hassle to open than the front door, he reluctantly turned his attention to the bedroom. The door was half-closed, and he felt apprehensive as he crept towards it because, again, invasion of privacy. He’d only sat outside the door that morning because Mic was being noisy and he was curious. He hadn’t been able to see a window then, but there could be one on the wall outside his view, and if he got lucky it would be open. So he nudged open the door, looking around, and—

............

That was a lot of Eraserhead merchandise.

Shouta just stared at the collection of posters and other objects in the corner where two dressers met, as if staring would make it disappear or somehow become... something else. Anything else. But nope, it all stayed in place, from the folded shirt to the homemade banner with ‘ERASERHEAD’ written in large English letters.

I don’t even HAVE merchandise. What the actual hell. Those looked like replicas of his capture weapon and goggles, though the color was slightly off, and... Was that a plushie of him? Hopping onto one of the dressers and prodding at the small doll curiously, he confirmed it was, indeed, a hand-made plushie of him.

Mic returned several hours later to Sprinkles pawing at Shouta as he hid under the couch. Mic, naturally, just assumed Shouta was spooked and proceeded to spend about half an hour trying to coax him out. Shouta pointedly ignored his cooing and just remained curled up in the safe embrace of the darkness, wishing desperately he could unsee what he had seen.

Day three of being a cat. Shouta had finally emerged from his spot under the couch to dine on more sardines, having resumed his usual cool demeanor after the initial shock and embarrassment at seeing the shrine. What shrine? Shouta saw absolutely no hand-made plushies or other merchandise of himself, Mic’s room was absolutely normal. Well, as normal as a bedroom belonging to Present Mic could be.

More important than nonexistent merchandise, he was starting to wonder if the Quirk had a time limit. Was he doomed to be forever a cat? No, no, he’d give it a week before he started to panic. A lot of long-lasting Quirks had a week-long time limit, there was no reason to assume it didn’t have a limit. No need to freak out just yet—

What was that spot?

Shouta froze, transfixed by a yellowish dot moving on the floor next to him. Gaze following it intently, he tentatively slapped his paw over it, only for it to appear on top of it. He blinked in mild surprise, and when he withdrew his paw the spot didn’t move with it instead, remaining in the exact place on the floor.

Had he been human he would have frowned at it, so for now he settled for squinting. What is this thing? After a few seconds the weird spot moved away and bounced in a small circle along the tile floor. Eyes narrowing, he slowly crept towards it and pounced again, only for it to once more appear atop his paw.

Another confused blink, and he quickly retreated, circling it warily. He slowly reached out to tap it, watching the spot overlap with his dark fur before quickly withdrawing his paw. Nearby he heard Mic give a soft giggle, which he chose to ignore as he inspected the spot more thoroughly. Obviously it wasn’t a bug, or even anything physical.

Is it a light? he thought. It was the most reasonable explanation. But what kind of yellow light is that small and able to move like that? The only light he could think of were—wait.

Shouta abruptly froze as the spot zoomed away, just staring into space as gears clicked into place in his mind.

Did I seriously fall for a laser pointer? he thought in disbelief. Another soft giggle from Mic drew his attention to the blond, and he confirmed his suspicion instantly upon seeing him pointing a pen-like device towards the wall. His left hand pressed against his mouth as he watched the two cats from a distance, an amused smile peeking through his fingers.

I fell for a laser pointer, Shouta mentally reiterated in mild shock.

In his defense, his new eyes had a more limited range of color so he couldn’t exactly tell the light was red. Had he been able to see its color, he would’ve made the connection right away. Somehow, his newfound red-green colorblindness had slipped his mind with everything else going on. Come to think of it, that hideous shirt Mic wore yesterday might not actually be that hideous. Huh.

As Shouta stared at him Mic’s smile faded, his hand lowering from his mouth as he frowned. He looked kind of... disappointed? Shouta blinked, briefly confused by the change in expression, until he saw the laser zoom past his paws again. Oh. Mic was still trying to play with him. Yeah, Shouta got pretty dejected too when his own cat lost interest.

As he watched Mic’s shoulders slump he felt a twinge of guilt, and decided to take pity on the man. He abruptly spun and pounced onto the light, the laser bouncing wildly as Mic startled. As the laser swerved away and Shouta chased after it, he snuck a glance at Mic to find him grinning brilliantly, his eyes sparkling. That looked much better than the sad look he’d been sporting.

Shouta was only doing this because he was bored. Cats had very limited options for mental stimulation, it was only logical to take advantage of a distraction when he had the chance. The fact it made Mic happy had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

Day four of being a cat.

Shouta was learning more about Mic than he ever wanted to, and not just because he was forced to inhabit the same space as the man. No, Mic had apparently decided that cats made perfect receptacles for venting.

Shouta felt ready for a villain to burst through the wall and end his misery now as Mic laid on his bed, venting to him in a manner eerily reminiscent a teenage girl. The comparison was more apt than Shouta expected actually, given the man’s obsession with appearances and melodramatic tendencies in his villain persona. He kind of reminded him of an unholy fusion of Ashido and Jirou.

So far he’d heard everything. Rants about the awful music selection played at the convenience store on the way to his job. The atrocious battery life of his cell phone and the hassle of carrying a charger everywhere. The apartment manager who always drew out and loudly over-enunciated her words after she first noticed his hearing aids, making it even harder to understand her (actually a valid grievance, Shouta admitted).

And Shouta just sat there with a grumpy look, trying to convey his utter lack of interest through his sour glare. Part of him contemplated just leaving, but he had actually been quite comfortable sitting on this pillow before Mic came in and flopped onto the bed with an exasperated, “You won’t believe the day I’ve had!” Aside from the noise, this pillow was still quite comfortable, much moreso than the couch, which was worn enough he could feel the springs creak under his weight. So he just tried to ignore the venting.

It was not as easy as he hoped.

“—And then there’s my shitty job—god I hate that place!” the blond muttered, poking Shouta’s ear. His ear twitched away from the touch, just squinting at him with disdain. You seem to hate a lot of places, he thought sarcastically. “They treat me like shit!” Most “villains” would try destroy a place if they really hated it that much.

“It’s all just so horrible!” the blond finished with a dramatic groan, while Shouta watched on with absolutely no sympathy. Screw this, the couch is lumpy but at least it’s quiet there. He was about to get up and leap away when the blond perked up, a bright smile lighting up his face. “But y’know what makes everything better?”

No, what? Shouta thought sarcastically, knowing he’d find out either way.

“Eraserhead!” Wait what? Shouta tensed at the mention of his name, staring wide-eyed and starting to feel rising panic as Mic began gushing about him. “Seeing him always makes me so much happier!” Okay, he really should have seen this coming, since the villain was pretty overt about his romantic intentions towards Shouta in... literally every encounter they had. “He’s my boyfriend y’know? Sooo cute!” Wait, wait, what—no, back up!! We’re not dating— “He kicks my ass a lot but only ’cuz that’s his job!”

Don’t say it like! That makes it sound like an abusive relationship!! A distressed hiss nearly escaped Shouta, but it was silenced by the all-consuming panic and embarrassment that had gripped him. Mic had a dreamy-looking smile on his face, his eyes almost glittering as he loudly proclaimed, “I love him a lot!”

Oh my god. He really IS a teenage girl. Shouta felt like he was watching a disaster movie play out in real time, and in a way he was. The disaster that was Mic’s delusional take of their relationship. Did this idiot even understand how healthy relationships worked!? Why do you even love me so much!?

Maybe his feline features were more expressive than he thought, or maybe Mic was just in a mood to gush over him, because the blond gave a dreamy sigh and proceeded to elaborate.

“Man, you should see him in action. He’s so graceful and agile, like a cat.” More literally than you know right now, Shouta thought sullenly. “And he totally doesn’t back down even if the other guy’s, like, ten times his size!” That would be a sixty-foot-tall person, Mic. That would be unrealistic and just makes me sound reckless. “And he manages to take them down with nothing but his skills and his awesome scarf!” I wish I could take down a sixty-foot-tall giant with just that.

“And plus, he totally punched a reporter in the face this one time!” Mic continued, and that one admittedly caught Shouta’s attention. Usually people highlighted that incident as a bad one, not a good quality. “It’s just, there’s so many heroes out there who only seem to care about the press, y’know?

“Don’t get me wrong, I love big and flashy stunts as much as the next guy—I mean, as long as I’m not, you know, actually facing All Might myself, haha, oh thank god he’s retired now and that won’t ever happen—but some of them just feel... hollow.” Mic waved his hand with a vague frown. muttering. “Like, they do it more for the cameras than a feeling of doing good, I guess?

“But Eraserhead,” he breathed with a small smile, rolling onto his side to gaze at the totally nonexistent shrine as he rambled, “He doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s willing to put his life on the line to save everyone! Hell, that poster of him over there” which does not exist “doesn’t show it, but he has this big scar under his eye. Like this, see?”

He twisted his torso to face Shouta again and traced a crescent-shaped line under his right eye, mirroring the one currently visible on Shouta’s face at that very moment, seriously how dense could a guy be!? “And you know how he got it?” Mic asked, and yes, he did. It was hard to forget having his face slammed into the pavement and ground against it by a Noumu while his students were watching nearby—

“He got it protecting his students, barely even a full week after meeting them.”

The sheer reverence in Mic’s voice silenced any snarky internal commentary, Shouta just blinking slowly. Any lingering traces of the dopey smile had faded by this point, replaced by a more serious look he rarely saw on the blond. “Eraserhead almost died then. I heard he was lucky to even still be able to see. I sent him a card of course, and took over his patrol route for him until he got better,” wait, was THAT why there wasn’t a massive spike in crime while he was gone, “but man, it was such a close call...”

He sighed, letting his head flop back onto the mattress as he stared into space. “It’s just... He went to work expecting a normal day, and instead he ended up facing a giant ambush of, like, two dozen guys or more. And he just went in anyway, knowing he’d probably die. And that—that takes a lot of guts. Guts, and heart.”

Shouta remained silent, just... staring at him. Slowly he slumped atop the pillow and rolled onto his side, staring into space. He had a lot to think about now.

Night four of being a cat. Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed. Repeat: Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed.

Don’t move, he silently commanded himself, staring wide-eyed into the darkness as he remained perfectly still. At some point after listening to Mic confess his undying love he’d fallen asleep, and apparently Mic had taken it as invitation to use him as a teddy bear. The sleeping blond had one arm tossed over Shouta essentially trapping him in place, the hero-turned-feline pressed close to his front. By “close”, he meant he could feel Mic’s breaths tickle the fur on his ears, feel his steady heartbeat against his back.

Had he been human Shouta would probably be blushing right now. Actually, he might still be doing so underneath the thick fur judging by how warm his face felt. This was the most intimately close he’d gotten to another person in... well, ever. Aizawa Shouta was not a tactile person by any means. ...But even with his limited experience he’d never been this physically close to someone.

They were sharing a pillow, for crying out loud!

Part of him wanted to worm his way out and abscond to the couch, pretending this never happened, but... at the same time, he didn’t really want to move. Mic’s body felt so warm. The arm draped over Shouta didn’t feel heavy, but instead oddly comforting. The rhythm of Mic’s heartbeat and the steady rising and falling of his chest gently pushed against his back, providing a silent lullaby that put him strangely at ease.

This was so illogical. Mic was a villain—well, more of a public nuisance, but still—Shouta shouldn’t feel so safe around him. But something about being pressed so close to the blond, half-covered by the blankets and with his head laying against the surprisingly soft pillow, just filled him with an odd sense of contentment.

He could feel Mic shift in his sleep, unconsciously pulling Shouta just a little bit closer. “Soft,” he mumbled, the word slurred and quiet, barely recognizable, yet still full of a deep fondness that tugged at Shouta’s heart. He exhaled slowly before closing his eyes, willing the tension to fade from his body as he curled a little closer to Mic.

Just one night won’t be too bad. I just need to make sure he never finds out I’m the cat.

Day five of being a cat. Shouta took back anything nice he ever said about Mic.

“How do you like your new bowtie Puddles?�� Mic asked enthusiastically, hugging a very unenthusiastic Shouta with a giant grin.

“Mow,” he replied dejectedly. This is the worst thing I’ve had to endure in my entire life.

“I agree!” Mic proclaimed cheerfully.

“Mow.” No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be doing this to me.

Now that he was aware of his current colorblindness, Shouta had no idea what the bow tie actually looked like, but he didn’t think any color scheme could make it look less tacky. It had polka dots. Nemuri might claim Shouta had a horrific fashion sense (not that he cared enough to agree or disagree), but even he acknowledged that a polka dot bowtie was the epitome of stupid looking.

Sprinkles mewed loudly as she pawed at Mic’s leg, blinking up at them with those large green eyes of hers. Similar to Shouta, she also wore a bowtie, this one a sparkly sequined thing that might be either green or pink. Unlike him, Mic positioned it so the bow was on the back of her neck, which Shouta found to be a perfectly practical and overall lovely choice for a female cat. Clearly she was used to being dressed up, as she made no fuss over it.

“What’s that, Sprinkles?” Mic asked, bending down and finally releasing Shouta from his hold. Shouta promptly began tugging at the bowtie with his paw, silently cursing his lack of opposable thumbs to aid in removing it. His tiny toes couldn’t get a good enough grip to do anything but pat it, much to his dismay.

While he sulked over that Mic held out his arms, Sprinkles jumping into his hold without further prompting. As she did her poofy tail coincidentally whacked Shouta in the face, making him jolt and sneeze. He shot her a sour look, while Mic just laughed as he swept her up and hugged her to his chest. “Hey, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he accused playfully. The white feline meowed and bumped her head against his chin, eyes sliding shut as she purred.

The accusation made Shouta’s eyes narrow, his glare growing harsher. Mic snickered at his expression before turning his attention back to Sprinkles, his grin softening to something more gentle and fond. “I get what you’re doing. You’re just jealous of all the attention I’m giving Puddles, aren’t you?” He adjusted his grip to scratch her chin and Sprinkles seemed to melt in his arms at the attention, a look of pure bliss on her face. “But you don’t need to be jealous. You’re still my adorable sweetheart.”

As he watched the pair Shouta felt his ire melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. The love and adoration in Mic’s face as he gazed down upon Sprinkles was nothing but genuine, the relaxed slump to her body an indication of total trust and happiness.

A guy who cares about cats that much can’t be that bad, he thought to himself quietly.

Half an hour later, he rescinded that thought when Mic posed with him and Sprinkles, all three wearing matching hats and bowties as he tried to angle his phone for a good selfie. He silently vowed to get his paws on that phone and dump it in the toilet as soon as he had the chance.

Day six of being a cat.

Mic had returned from his job a few minutes prior, which was just as well since Shouta had unfortunately confirmed that operating a laser pointer without thumbs was hard. He had a feeling Sprinkles had been more frustrated by the erratic movement and blinking of the dot than usual during his attempts to play with her. At some point she’d clocked onto Shouta as being the source of her frustration, because she had decided to ignore the laser in favor of jumping at him.

“Wow, you two did a lot of roughhousing today, huh?” Mic asked as he sat on the floor with Sprinkles in his lap, running a brush through her fur. Strands of black had gotten mixed into her otherwise pristine white coat, the usually fluffy and silky texture more ruffled and messy from their small wrestling match. Shouta himself looked no better; he could see white furs spot his paws, almost seeming to glow against his own pitch black coat.

He had taken refuge atop a cabinet in the far corner to get away from Sprinkles, and now took advantage of his vantage point to just... observe them. Mic clearly brushed Sprinkles often judging by her reaction. She purred contently as he gently dragged the brush along her head, her ears briefly flattening beneath the bristles before popping back into their usual perky position. She leaned into the strokes, arching her back slightly while her cheek rubbed against his chest.

The sheer love in Mic’s expression was visible to anyone, his smile so much softer than Shouta ever thought the loud and hyper man to be capable of. Plucking a few lingering strands of black fur, he set the brush down and lightly nudged her off his lap. Sprinkles hopped off his lap and strutted away, the blond watching with obvious fondness.

Those warm green eyes turned to Shouta, making him stiffen. “Okay, your turn,” he said, patting his lap invitingly. When Shouta didn’t move he got up and walked over, stopping next to the cabinet. “Come on, time to get down.”

“...Mrow,” Shouta responded in a surprisingly meek way. I would, but I’m kinda stuck, he thought sheepishly. Climbing the cabinet had been one thing, but now that he was on top of it... well, the drop to the floor looked much higher than he thought.

This is so illogical, he thought sulkily. As a human he’d made plenty of larger jumps (with the support of his capture weapon of course), but as a cat the drop seemed a lot bigger. He also lacked the fine-tuned reflexes and familiarity with his body he’d developed from years of training with it, so he felt considerably less confident about his ability to safely jump from such a height without hurting himself in some way.

Mic seemed to pick up on his unease, a small frown settling on his face. “Hey, Puddles, are you nervous?” he asked. “Here, come on, just hop on down. I’ll catch you, okay?” He held out his arms, and Shouta blinked, slow and catlike. Seriously? He was asking a cat to jump into his arms? The rational part of him scoffed, since he knew a normal cat wouldn’t be able to understand such a thing.

But... the less rational, cat-loving part of him, understood. How many times had he tried to coax a cat to jump down from a branch, to leap right into his open arms, logic be damned? Seeing that earnest look on the blond’s face, the encouraging little smile silently asking him to trust him... It made something feel content in Shouta’s chest.

And so, he jumped.

His jump was clumsy and awkward, his mobility just as hindered by his lack of familiarity with this body as he suspected. One of his hind paws ended up catching on the edge of the cabinet, turning a would-be graceful leap into a fumbling tumble. Mic shot forward and caught him, the drop to his arms nowhere near as long as it would be to the floor.

Shouta blinked dumbly as he stared up at the blond, cradled almost like an infant. He had a perfect view of the blond’s smile, relief clear in his face. “Oof! Almost slipped there! Don’t worry though, I got ya buddy.” He carried Shouta over to where he’d left the brush and sat on the floor, rolling Shouta onto his stomach with the feline settled in his lap. He picked up the brush and pulled off the fur already caught in the bristles before he began running it through Shouta’s fur, the strokes light and gentle.

Shouta tensed, memories of painful attempts to brush his own hair flashing through his mind. Tugging his brush through particularly bad knots sometimes felt just as painful as getting slammed into the wall by a villain, and he didn’t look forward to feeling it all over his body. To his surprise the strokes were light and gentle though, each one strangely soothing, and—dare he say it... nice.

He practically melted in Mic’s lap as the bristles stroked through his thick fur, Mic using his free hand to pluck individual white furs that the brush couldn’t capture. “I bet you’ve never been brushed before, have you?” he mused aloud. “You look like you’ve lived your whole life on the streets, you poor thing. Don’t worry though, those days are over.”

Shouta gave a throaty hum, his eyelids sliding shut. It was exactly the kind of thing he had told his own cat when he’d first brought her home, some distant part of his mind noted. He didn’t know how much time passed with Mic brushing him, his mind slipping into a content haze.

It felt like all too soon Mic finished, setting the brush down. He didn’t nudge Shouta off just yet like he did with Sprinkles though, instead pulling Shouta into a small hug. The mellow haze which had consumed his senses lifted slightly at that, a single golden eye peeking open as he felt the blond scratch his ear.

“Hard to believe it’s been a little under a week since I found you.” Mic had a gentle smile as he stared down at Shouta, his eyes soft and lidded. “It already feels like you’ve been part of the family a lot longer.” His hand fell away from Shouta’s head, joining his other arm to wrap around him in a slightly tighter hug. “It might be silly, but I’m glad you’re here—it gets quite lonely at times. Pathetic, I know.”

The blond gave a self-deprecating chuckle while Shouta just sat in his arms, staring forward blankly. Right now, he could feel nothing but pure love radiating from Mic, his genuine and powerful fondness for what he believed to be a normal cat quite evident despite only knowing “Puddles” for less than a week. And hearing him call himself pathetic so easily didn’t sit right with Shouta.

Before he knew it he’d twisted in Mic’s hold and bumped his head against the man’s chest, purring lowly as he rubbed his head against him. He could feel the blond perk up, sitting a little straighter. “Oh! You’re a cuddly kitty!”

Shouta just kept purring, eyes sliding shut as he felt the blond gently scratch his back.

This, he thought distantly, was contentment. This was happiness. Just being in the arms of someone who cared about you, and showing you cared about them back, even if just a little.

Maybe being stuck as a cat wasn’t so bad after all.

Morning seven found Shouta rousing to consciousness slowly, his eyes feeling crusted shut and refusing to open. His muscles felt notably more sore than they had the past week, making him groan lowly and curl up a little tighter. Ugh, stupid cat body... He forced his eyes to blink open, and for a moment he was confused.

Doesn’t the room seem a bit... brighter? He frowned, squinting blearily at the shrine (not a shrine, what shrine, those were just random posters of a random guy who happened to resemble him) which seemed a bit more colorful than he remembered. The sand crusting his eyes made it hard to focus, and he reached a hand to rub it away before pausing. Wait a minute, is my hand human?

Behind him Hizashi slowly stirred to consciousness as the mattress shifted, a distant part of his mind registering it dip heavily to the side. A sleepy little moan slipped past his lips, barely audible to even the keenest ears, his eyes drowsily fluttering open to see something dark and furry in front of his face.

Puddles? he thought hazily, but as his vision came into focus his still-drowsy mind quickly registered that it was not his feline. No, it was the back of a human head, a man sitting up on the other side of his bed. A flash of peach near the blankets drew his eyes to an arm with a starburst-shaped scar on the elbow, the blanket falling slightly as the man lifted his torso and wait his back was totally bare, holy shit this guy’s totally naked and he’s in my bed. Any lingering drowsiness vanished instantly as he bolted upright.

“What the fuck!?” Hizashi screamed as he bolted upright, Quirk unconsciously activating in his shock.

Shouta flinched and sat straight up, his hair whipping around his face in the voice-fueled blast of wind as he gripped the blanket against his chest. Well, the Quirk finally wore off at least. Okay, he doesn’t have his glasses yet. Hopefully he won’t be able to recognize you and you can just run before he gets them—

“Wait, wha—ERASERHEAD!?”

So much for that. As Mic’s voice devolved into a high-pitched squeak of horror Shouta rubbed at his eyes with a quiet groan, doing his best to ignore the sudden silence that fell over the room. After a few seconds past he turned his head slightly to look at the blond, finding him staring at him with an ashen look of shock and disbelief, mouth open but for once producing absolutely no noise. Only took waking up next to me in bed to finally get him to shut up.

“So,” Shouta said awkwardly. “Got any pants I could borrow?”

#erasermic #aizawa shouta #aizawa x hizashi #yamada hizashi #mha #fanfic #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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tiny-smallest · 5 years ago

Text

warm summer nights

Rating: G Characters: Greg, Steven, Danny Fenton Warnings: none Description: Greg Universe is a lot of things- former semi-famous rockstar, musician, adviser, small business owner, best friend- but he is first and foremost a father.

But there were other things that made up his identity, things that hurt to remember and were usually easy to forget- until the day an incident on the beach and the appearance of a strange child in town sent both his fatherly senses and some old instincts screaming alarms in his head.

Also on AO3!

—

I thought this would be appropriate to post on the day that happens to be both one week after we said goodbye to Steven and the Dannyapocalypse. Like c’mon how perfect is that.

I started this in February back when I assumed we weren’t getting the end of Future until probably summertime. Parts have been rewritten or tweaked to accommodate the ending. Therefore there are SPOILERS in here for the latter half of Steven Universe Future (it is set between I Am My Monster and The Future) so do be aware of that. And also just be aware in general cause I’m sick of looking at this and details are blurring so if a detail or two seems off it’s because I didn’t catch it skljdfn

Enjoy!

—

Beautiful, blue, bejeweled.

This was one of the best things about living in Beach City. In this little town that was probably more of a village and definitely not a city, when the night was clear, as long as you weren’t standing smack in the middle of town where the lights would be brightest, Greg could see more stars than humanity could probably ever hope to visit. The fact that Beach City was very much a rural town helped immensely, too. No Empire City to smog up the skies from nearby.

Just the ocean waves and the twinkling expanse above, and his son’s house off to the side, the statue overhead serene and silent. You could write a song to a scene like this. Greg was trying, plucking idly at guitar strings, counting syllables in his head, matching words and chords. It wasn’t a serious project. More like a doodle of a song. Simple, short, maybe a little messy. Perfection wasn’t a requirement; just a bonus if it happened to happen.

He couldn’t say for sure whether or not Steven was in bed. Sure, he hadn’t heard anything, and Steven was sleeping much better these days, but Steven was also a teenager. Even at the best of times their inner clocks could be wonky. He sure remembered that. And it was a beautiful night; warm and breezy, calm and quiet.

So when he spotted a humanoid shape in the sky that lacked wings, he didn’t think much on it at first. Steven was seventeen, he reminded the nervous fatherly instincts pricking up. And Steven was seventeen and capable. If the boy wanted to go for a walk or hang in the sky for awhile, that was his business, and if it was because Steven was troubled, then Steven knew to also make it Greg’s business, if he wanted to.

Still, maybe he would pop by tomorrow morning with breakfast sandwiches. Just in case. Just to see him first thing in the morning.

Easy, Universe. Breathe. The air went in his lungs. The air flowed out.

He picked at the guitar again, but his eyes always somehow strayed back to the figure in the sky.

The first time Greg realized something might be off came when he realized the shape silhouetted against the stars was all wrong to be Steven. The body was too skinny- scrawny, even, and there was no sign of descent at all. Steven couldn’t hold his position. He could only slow his descent. Steven should have landed on the beach by now, if it was really him.

Unease bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He squinted, but whatever was out there was too far away for features to be discernible. Greg didn’t have binoculars.

Maybe he should go use that telescope…?

But it was probably just a gem, right? Right?

What was he supposed to do? Shout at them? They’d probably hear him from this far away…

Five dark bruises, long since faded, and the memory of what the house’s deck looked like from upside down, twenty feet in the air was what made him unsure if he liked that fact. It was definitely too tall to be Bluebird, though, and there were no wings present, so there was at least that comfort.

Not that there was much comfort at all. Who said Bluebird might not have friends? Sure, she was an obnoxious little goblin, but Greg knew there were other gems who hated his son and, apparently, that was a hell of a unifier in the gem world. I have no more hair to cut to get away if this is someone else who wants to try using me against Steven.

They hadn’t heard his quiet guitar playing, at least, and if they’d taken notice of the van on the beach, there was no movement to do anything about it.

Still.

He moved to strum the guitar, but his trembling fingers thought the better of it last second without any real thought and caressed the side of the fingerboard. Maybe he should call Pearl? He should probably call Pearl.

As he reached for his phone, a breeze blowing through the van made him shudder. Jeez, when did it get so cold? Why was it so cold! It was May!

Something made a noise outside. He froze.

The world went still. Greg’s heart hammered in his chest, pounded in his head. He could feel it beating in his ears.

A loud, wet thunk hit the window, slid down it. Greg raised his head just slightly and felt his heart somersault in his chest as the discolored, waterlogged hand slid down the window with a slow, wet squeak.

What. The fuck.

Greg was not a man who cursed liberally, years of raising a child to thank for that, but if there had been any air left in his lungs he would have said the fuck word like it was his day job at the sight of the other hand that slapped itself against the window. Fingers curled in like claws against the glass and there was a wet gurgle.

A face pressed into the pane. Skin blue, mottled with green and what looked like rotting bits, eyes nearly white, long, tangled, hair of indiscernible color, matted with sand and seaweed.

Their eyes met.

Before Greg could utter a sound she let out a guttural noise and banged on the window. It took a moment for Greg to realize that the strangled yelp was coming from him as he scrambled to close the back doors, slamming them shut with an echoing bang.

She clawed at the door underneath the window she was still smashed up against, something close to a growl pouring from her mouth. In the next moment the pouring was literally, water flowing like some kind of demented faucet from her throat. Greg watched from inside the van, feeling the world all but fall away as the girl began to turn inside out, discolored flesh exposing dully pulsating organs, meat rearranging itself into a ghasty, kraken thing with a pulsating eye sitting right where he was pretty sure squids did not have eyes.

It shrieked, slamming an arm the sand by the van, missing the front by an inch. Greg shouted in pain and scrambled to right himself, trying to get the doors he’d just closed back open.

“Hey!”

He stopped fumbling with the doors for a moment, then redoubled his efforts even though he felt the beast move a little bit away from where it had him pinned down.

The doors blew open with a bang and he half fell out, gaping from the sand at the sight of the back of a boy, floating in the air, fists raising for a fight. The kraken looked down at him, roared, and tried to slam its arm into him, next.

But as it came down, the child was gone.

He zipped around–around, the boy was flying–and kicked the thing right upside the head, sending it sprawling a few feet, before throwing what looked like glowing green fire at it from both hands. It swerved to the side, barely avoiding the beam of green fire, and looked back as if to assess where its prey had gone.

The boy shot like a reverse shooting star into the air and took another dive, feet held out to slam into the thing, but it halted his descent with a tentacle and threw him back, charging forward to meet him.

And it went right through him.

As it turned around again, the boy held up another hand of green fire and made a motion Greg realized somewhere in his frozen mind was very familiar. Like throwing a frisbee, the child flung a disk of green flaming something at the creature and hit it right in the eye in the middle of its head.

It exploded.

In a gush of green goo, it exploded, the slime expelled upwards in a really gross fountain. The boy landed in the sand beside the creature as the rest of the body began to melt away, blinking in what could only be surprise as the goo seeped into the ground. He tilted his head, bent over slightly, one hand resting on his knee as he fought to catch his breath, and opened his mouth.

Then he started, blinked, and turned the rest of his head to more clearly see what he must have been seeing from the corner of his eye–Greg himself–letting go of gravity as he did.

The boy floated there, breathing heavily, eyes locked on Greg, hair moving slightly like it was underwater, eyes glowing faintly. The world held still.

“Sorry about that,” he said softly, and as suddenly as he’d dove to Greg’s rescue, he was gone, the prints from his boots in the sand the only sign he’d ever existed at all.

A breeze blew across the beach. Greg wheezed out a gasp as his body remembered it needed to breathe.

He looked to the house. Undisturbed. Steven must be out after all.

He laid down in the back of the van. If he was more in his own head he might have immediately gotten up to go wait in the house.

But the world was tilting and his head full of cotton, so he didn’t do that.

But he did know one thing.

He was not sleeping until he knew his son was back safely in that house.

Hours. Minutes. Everything felt so quiet and so loud. He should call Steven. He should make sure he was safe.

But did any of that really just happen? Was this a nightmare? Was he just losing his mind? I started losing my hair early; maybe I’d start going senile early, too, floated lazily up in the swamp water that was his brain currently, and despite the concern he probably should have been feeling at that thought (when had he last gone to the doctor for literally anything?) he felt nothing.

Finally, in the predawn light painting the world gray and blue, Greg saw him. Steven approached from the left side of the van a little off in the distance and walked out of view. He thought he heard the screen door.

Steven was home. Steven was safe. Whatever happened, whatever dark thing had reached from beyond the void to touch this beach, it hadn’t touched Steven.

Steven was safe. Steven was safe. Steve was… safe… Steven… safe…

dear theodosia what to say to you

Sound. Light. That’s Steven.

Also, reality. Reality and pain. Headache.

He blinked and squinted, morning sun clear and warm, the world scattered, fuzzed at the edges, just clear enough to be entirely unwelcome in how real it was. Ugh. Why did his head hurt so much? Felt like he’d run a marathon-

Wait.

Wait wait what what-? Hold up. Put freakout on hold. Steven. He grabbed for his phone, fumbling it in sweaty fingers. 10:07. No wonder everything hurt. He’d slept maybe five hours, if that.

His eyes flicked from his phone to the sand as he thumbed over the screen to receive the call.

The van was parked far enough from the beginning of the beach for footprints to not leave indiscernible holes in the sand, but they weren’t close enough to the surf for the tide to wash everything away. But it had been windy.

There were marks, but had they come from feet? He couldn’t tell. He honestly couldn’t tell. God.

“Dad?”

“Hi, Stchu-ball,” he said aloud with a numb mouth and a number mind. Right. Think. Wake up, brain. Focus. He wanted to get breakfast for him.

“Hi Dad! Just got up; I was wondering if you wanted to join us for breakfast? Or, well, me; the others have to run to go do Little Homeschool stuff.”

“Yeah, sure buddy,” he managed. “My treat?”

“You sure? I can cook-”

Something firm and determined pushed him forward. “No, that’s fine. I’ve been meaning to try some of those breakfast sandwiches from Arianna’s, anyway.”

“Well… okay, if you’re sure.” The smile in his voice was warm. He wished he could return it.

“Yeah, I’m sure. See you in a few?”

“See you in a few.”

They hung up. He swallowed and climbed into the front seat to start the van, ignoring the good morning text from Pearl with only a slight pang of guilt. Might as well get breakfast and practice smiling. He was going to need it.

——-

The second Steven saw him, Greg knew the smile he’d pasted on before the door opened was too plastic.

The bright, sunny grin on Steven’s face drooped, eyes quickly flicking up and down his father’s form. Damn it. He hadn’t changed his clothes from yesterday, that’s right. There was nothing he could probably do about the dark circles he bet he had under his eyes but he should have changed his clothes at least.

Please don’t comment on it. Just let it go by.

“Your sandwiches, Mr. Universe,” Greg said, some distant part of him relieved that the silly, over-the-top voice came out and came out right. He gave his son a little bow as he presented the bag.

A giggle. “Please,” Steven replied in an equally silly voice. “Call me Steven. Mr. Universe is my father’s name.” The weight of the bag disappeared from Greg’s hand and he righted himself, wincing just slightly as one knee complained. The bag rustled, Steven stepping back inside the house. “My highly esteemed, very talented, charming father and oh my god is that an omelette? Is that an egg and mushroom breakfast sandwich? I’m throwing ‘amazing’ on that list I think.”

He snorted as he followed Steven inside. “You flatterer you.”

“Flattery has nothing to do with food that smells amazing. That you brought me,” Steven said as he set the bag on the counter and withdrew the plastic containers. Something inside Greg’s chest loosened at the absolutely ridiculous goofy face his son was making. They’d better dig in before the boy started drooling.

“All right, all right. I’ll take some of those compliments,” he laughed as he held his hands up in defeat, approaching the table. “Even though all I did was place an order.”

“For the right things,” Steven chirped as he reached into the cabinet to pull out plates. “Very much the right things. Stars that smells good.”

“Well, what can I say? We Universes have very… refined pallets.” Greg took the containers over to the table, Steven following with the plates.

Now it was Steven’s turn to snort. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Hey, remember that night in Empire City? I am a man of taste.”

“The classiest,” Steven agreed, a touch of warmth to the banter. Greg chuckled and ruffled his hair.

The boy moved to take a seat before pausing, looking to his father. “Hey, what are we doing? It’s a nice day! Let’s eat outside?”

Inwardly he quailed a little. He’d really rather not look at the beach today, if he were being honest.

But that earnest expression? How could he ever say no to it? Especially when it was asking something totally reasonable of him. “Sure, kiddo.”

He picked up the containers and Steven carried the plates, the door opening with the usual light creak of hinges moving. Steven sat on the steps with a sigh, stretching his legs and then scooting over to make room for his father. Greg sat beside him.

“So um… I was wondering…”

Greg turned his head. “Mm?”

Steven’s eyes were lowered, foot tapping against the step below. “… Are you feeling okay?”

Ah geez. “What do you mean, Schtu-ball?”

“Uh, well, you look kinda- really tired today, and I dunno-” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just wondering, like, did you sleep okay? Do you- maybe need to talk about something or…? Because I know, I know you’ll say it’s not my job, but you’re my dad, and well, I just- I love you a whole lot and even if you don’t wanna talk about it I’d just- just like to make sure you’re all right.”

Oh, Steven.

He stared at his son, this sweet, brave, beautiful boy that he could barely believe came from his own dna, and leaned down to press a kiss into his hair.

“Dad?” He leaned back to find confused eyes that were rapidly becoming worried. Small wonder. Greg gave his son kisses all the time growing up, but they’d tapered off the past couple years out of respect for Steven’s slowly emerging adulthood and the determination that his son would never, ever feel patronized by him.

He only gave in a few times, and considering the ones he could remember were Steven being abducted to space, the second time his son was abducted to space, and Steven returning from saving them all from certain, eventual destruction at the hand of space dictators?

Yeah, he could see why he’d be concerned.

“It’s nothing,” he promised, smoothing back Steven’s hair a little. “Just… Had weird dreams last night. I’m very glad you’re here.”

“… You- could talk about them? If you wanted to,” Steven ventured. The powerful affection swelled even more and he gave him another kiss, on his forehead.

“Nah, they weren’t that bad. Nothing your old man can’t handle. Besides, you don’t need to fight them for me.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t mean to brag-” the worried knot in his forehead hadn’t quite left despite the grin he flashed at Greg- “but I’m quite the dream warrior. Just ask Kiki!”

“Kiki?” Oh, right, the pizza nightmare nonsense. “You sure are, but you don’t have to be responsible for everyone’s sleep, kiddo. Just yours.” He ruffled his hair. “But hey- if there was something we could learn from this, I’d tell you. But there isn’t really. It was just weird and uncomfortable. Not even really a nightmare.”

“Oh.” He made a face. “Those suck.”

“They do,” Greg agreed, reaching for a sandwich.

Maybe it had been a dream, somehow.

——-

It was a few days later that the next oddity happened.

Just enough time for Greg to maybe consider that what happened on the beach was some weird sort of hallucination- or maybe something less severe than what that implied, maybe just a scary dream. A really, messed up, unsettling dream. He wasn’t sure if he ate anything before falling asleep (he was pretty sure he didn’t) but mark that down as something to never do again before bed, just in case.

He just really wish he didn’t remember that kid’s face as well as he did, or that… thing.

But it was fine! Greg was fine. It was probably just a nightmare, and nothing happened. Nobody got eaten the next day when they went in the water. No reports of missing persons. It was fine. He played guitar, hung out at his car wash, washed a couple cars, spent time playing music with Steven and Pearl, pacified Peridot’s twenty questions when she and Lapis dropped by town to visit, introduced Garnet to a new band, cooked a dinner with Steven, and even took a long walk down the beach with Pearl, chatting about anything and everything.

As always, the talk eventually turned to the townies, and what they were up to.

“It’s so odd,” Pearl mused. “I didn’t know we could even get raccoons around here.”

“Yep. They don’t usually come into town, but there’s plenty of them in the forest. Them and their weird tiny people hands.”

Pearl made a face. “Oh- that doesn’t sound- very nice.”

Greg chuckled. “They’re mostly harmless. It’s just really startling to be sleeping and suddenly feel tiny hands just like yours touching you.”

“Oh no, they haven’t done that to you!?” She looked so scandalized Greg almost laughed.

“Oh yes they have! But not in town. Happened a few years back when I took Steven camping in the woods.”

“Well that’s awful rude of them,” she huffed.

“Nah, cut them a break. We were intruders on their home, after all. They were just curious. Also they don’t understand decorum like we do.”

“Fair,” she sighed. “Still, they must be capable of some form of human-like reasoning.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Pearl was an incredibly sharp person, but 5000 some years of refusing to properly interact with humans left her woefully unaware of a lot of things about the planet she lived on. Sometimes hearing her reasoning was downright hilarious. She certainly was a creative one.

“Well,” she started with all the innocence and assuredness of a small child about to explain a logic only they could understand, “The Frys and the Pizzas are the only ones it seems to bother.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“If it’s really here for food, why does it only get into their garbage? Why not other people’s? Food is food and organics need to consume it, so logically shouldn’t it just go anywhere?” A pause. “Why, if it’s coming from the woods, it’s going out of its way to get to their trash, even! Fish Stew Pizza and Beach Citywalk Fries are all the way down the block from the forest.”

Huh. She had a point. “Who knows? Animals are weird. There’s a reason we still study them, after all.”

She clucked her tongue. “I suppose we’ll never truly know until we catch them in the act.”

They only get into the Frys’ and the Pizzas’ garbage.

He wish he’d paid more attention to that little tidbit than he did.

——-

Three days after that conversation, four after that nighttime beach dream, standing in Fish Stew Pizza at the counter, waiting for Kiki to finish his order, he saw him.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted movement from out the open window and, as humans were wont to do when something moved in their peripherals, he turned his head, not expecting to find much. This was one of the more popular spots of Beach City. People weren’t super uncommon, especially with the gems hanging around the city now.

What was uncommon, what was odd, was the sight of a new face, hanging around by the garbage– a teenager, with messy black hair and a t-shirt and jeans. Greg blinked in surprise, but any curiosity he might have felt evaporated as he watched the hunched up teenager glance, and not very inconspicuously, left, then right-

And then grabbed the little paper container containing a half-eaten thing of fries right from where it was perched on top of the rest of the trash, sliding over with guilty, shameful stumbling to the bench beside the garbage can. He shoved his hand into the bag and dug out a fistful of fries.

Greg froze. For a moment, all he could see was white hair, glowing in the moonlight, floating slightly in the air, topping a face that was a bit too thin. Something familiar-

Not the only thing familiar. At the same time he remembered walking by that same can, hunched over with shame and hunger, chewing the inside of his cheek, worries swirling, Rose oblivious thank god-

Sitting on the boardwalk with a hungrily suckling baby kicking the bottle, staring at the food places he couldn’t afford to order from because that crib had cost way more than he’d anticipated, stomach complaining with a hollow, gnawing pain-

Trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks as he counted up nickels and dimes for Kofi, grateful for his patience but feeling anxiety draw its claws along the inside of his head, wondering how long that patience would last when there was a line behind him-

“Mr. Universe?”

“U-um-” Trying to stuff his brain back into his head, he turned to look back to Kiki, whose face was lined with concern. Right. Pizza. “Oh, uh, thanks Kiki. This’ll- uh, make great leftovers."

"Well… I always thought cold pizza was yucky but hey, it’s your food, not mine.” She returned his weak smile and ducked back into the kitchen. He picked up the box, gears whirring as he stepped outside and approached the bench.

As his shadow fell over the teenager, the boy glanced up from where he was trying to peer into the clearly-empty box, eyes that looked too big for his head watching him warily. They were a startling shade of baby blue and it almost wrecked Greg’s concentration. Almost.

“Hey there!” he smiled at the boy. “Today’s your lucky day! I’ve started doing a 'one nice thing a day’ resolution– you know, spread some goodwill and all throughout the whole year, not just at the holidays– and you’re today’s winner! Have a pizza.”

He held the box out to him. One eyebrow quirked up, but the slightly shaking hands did accept the box.

“… And you didn’t put anything weird in it.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t quite a statement either, brushing instead somewhere lightly against an accusation, especially with the pointing finger at the box now sitting on his lap.

“On my honor as a musician,” he promised, raising one hand, putting on his best overdramatic voice. There was a brief spark of amusement in the boy’s eyes. Greg took the minute of lowered guard to give him a quick scan.

Messy black hair he’d seen from the shop, but closer now, he could tell there was a very slight greasy quality to it, exacerbated by the lack of brushing. His frame and his face were a bit too thin, elbows poking out a bit more noticeably than they should have been, cheekbones a touch too sharp. There was a hole in one of the knees of his jeans, and given the dirt smeared on the pants, it didn’t look like fashion.

“Yeah, well… thanks, I guess.” He was still suspicious. Understandable. Greg knew what it looked like, a grown man approaching a lone boy he had no relation to with free food. He didn’t begrudge the kid the wary gaze still honed in on him with laser focus. “I’m staying right here.”

“Never said you had to go anywhere,” Greg said, backing away this time with both hands raised. “Enjoy your lunch, kiddo.”

He turned and went right back into the pizza shop, hailing Kiki down again.

“Yeah, Mr. U?”

“You see that kid outside?” he asked softly. Her head turned with his in time to watch the boy tear the pizza box open, rip out a slice, and begin to hork it down. She nodded, her face a wince of sympathy.

“Yeah.”

“Tell him he can get a free pizza a day, okay? I’ll pay for it, but don’t credit me. Let him think whatever, just as long as he knows he can get something to eat here.”

“Awfully sweet of you,” she said with a little smile. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Should we get ahold of his parents or…?”

Something twisted uncomfortably in his gut. “No. He might recoil if we’re too obvious about helping. If his family needs food, he’ll take the pizza home.”

“Well, looks like they must be having dinner tonight. Sure hope he doesn’t eat that whole thing by himself right now, though.” They resisted the urge to check. “I’ll keep an eye on him, Mr. Universe. Can’t leave the shop, but as long as he’s hanging around outside, I don’t mind watching him.”

“Maybe try to keep your dad or Mayor Nanefua from hovering too close?” He forced an awkward chuckle. “I remember what it’s like, being that age. He’ll just get embarrassed and shut down. Free pizza won’t do him much good if he won’t come to claim it.”

“Don’t worry Mr. U; I got this.” She winked at him. He tried to let it comfort him, and smiled back.

The boy was still tearing apart the pizza when he stepped outside. Resisting the urge to check on him again, he walked away.

He went to find Steven, lunch forgotten, and made sure to give his son a great big hug.

“Dad?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to give you a hug.”

If he had his way, it would have been for the rest of forever.

——-

He’d almost convinced himself by the time a week had passed that the white-haired floating kid from the beach was a bad dream, or maybe even some kind of… weird, residual Future Sight rubbing off on him.

Could that even happen? Greg was sure around magic stuff often enough for something weird to pop up, right? He was tempted to as Garnet about it, but the urge to keep quiet about this wouldn’t go away. Especially since he wasn’t sure that he could trust Garnet to keep this between them- not when she shared almost everything with the other gems now, not when they were finally feeling something like a family unit after all the years they wasted being distant and combative with one another. Garnet was nothing if not protective, and he knew the implication he’d started seeing things might concern her into consulting the others. Maybe even consulting other humans, given that he was pretty sure she knew little about human biology and how brains and bodies connected.

Or she could take it to be a literal, physical threat and sound the alarm. That felt likely, too. Extremely likely. He thought of the way she very carefully shadowed Steven in the months following his meltdown, and winced. Yeah. That would be a bad idea.

Especially if this was all just absolutely nothing. God, the last thing he’d want to do is alarm Steven for absolutely nothing.

He locked up the car wash at around dusk, checking his phone as he walked his way down the street towards the beach. Steven would probably be starting to cut the vegetables, and if he hurried, he’d get there before he was ready to toss the salad and reheat the sauce from three days ago. He might even be in time to help Steven dice, actually.

As he reached the street that became the giant back area of The Big Donut, he heard it.

The sound of metal rattling.

Greg froze, looking up from his phone, staring down the block. Boardwalk Street saw the back of several stores and featured two small parking lots, indents in the street that hid the actual backs of the stores from sight- not helped by how far back Shirts 4 You extended.

A memory floated. Raccoons.

Well huh. He should. Probably look.

He stood there another minute before there was another rattle of metal and sighed, pressing his thumb into the power button of his phone to make it sleep and following the sound.

Is that… is that glowing?

He turned the corner of Shirts 4 You, staring across the little parking lot at the backs of the junky souvenir shop (the name of which he’d never bothered learning in the thirty some years he’d lived here), Fish Stew Pizza, and Beach Citywalk Fries.

And floating above the dumpster of the pizza place was-

The phone dropped to the concrete with a clatter and the white haired boy looked up from where he was reaching into the trash, green eyes locking with his.

For a second the world was still.

Then Greg blinked, and there was nothing there. How long he stood there he didn’t know, the buzzing of his phone the only thing to make it past the pounding in his ears.

Numbly, he bent and picked up the phone.

Hey dad, where are you? You okay?

With trembling fingers he tapped out a message.

Fine, sorry kiddo. Customer took too long. Just got him to leave. Be right there.

He looked up. The dumpster lid was now back in place. The sound he made was barely human.

Greg shoved his phone in his pocket, turned, and left.

——-

“You’re really not slick, dude.”

Greg startled, nearly dropping the bag. He fumbled it embarrassingly, only just managing to catch it by one of the loops in the plastic. A deep sigh came from above him, and he lifted his burning face to look into the eyes of the unimpressed teenager sitting in the tree.

How did he even climb that high? It wasn’t a very sturdy tree. Just the tallest one in the park. The thought made his gut knot. Please get down from there.

“Why are you following me?” His thin shoulders hunched, face tight, fists clenching.

Well this was sure going the exact opposite way he wanted it to.

“I- uh… wanted to give you this,” he admitted in defeat, setting the plastic bag down at the base of the tree. “Thought you could use it.”

“I’m not getting down.” Greg heard the real meaning crystal clear. I’m not getting within grabbing distance. “Throw it up to me if you want me to see it that bad.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly heavy, but… “You… sure it won’t unbalance you?”

“Try me.” The barest hint of smugness amidst the defensive suspicion.

Huh. Welp. “Okay, sure.” If he fell, Greg knew a guy who could repair anything. Even if he had to cushion the kid’s fall with his own body there’d be no lasting harm with Steven around, not really, and insisting the kid come down was not worth risking the boy running off. He threw the bag up.

The teenager caught it in one hand with an ease that surprised him. Shifting slightly, likely to ensure his butt was securely on the branch, he dared to let go of the tree with his other hand to open the bag, a few brightly-colored plastic bottles and a loofa staring up at him. “… This is-”

“There’s a public shower over by the beach. The beach open to the public, I mean. It’s a much better place to clean up than the ocean and it really will help you feel loads better.” He pointed at the direction of the beach, resisting the urge to shield his eyes from the setting sun. “We really get barely any tourists compared to Ocean Town, but we get just enough that nobody will think twice about you using the facilities. It’s May, after all. This is when tourist season starts.”

The boy lowered the bag a little, eyebrows shooting to the sky. It made his eyes look even bigger and his confusion even more child-like. “… Why?”

“Uh- why do we have a tourist scene? Beats me. Beach City’s a nice place, but it’s tiny and has less stuff than-”

“No I mean- why?” He gestured to the plastic bag in his lap.

“Oh, that.” He shrugged, doing his best to seem nonchalant. “You look like you could use a little help.”

“And you just… decided to help.” His voice was flat with disbelief.

Greg blinked. For a second he could’ve sworn his eyes were green.

Green. Green like-

Focus, Universe!

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t want anything.”

“Nope.”

“… I’m not sure if I believe that.”

Shit, he’d probably turned down the pizza offer too, then.

“Listen I know it sounds… weird. And I didn’t want to butt in, so I won’t ask. But I can help without having to know every detail, so… well, why not?”

The kid tilted his head to the side, chewing on his lip a little.

“If you ever wanna talk, you can find me at the car wash.” He pointed. “Can’t miss it. Out of the park down this way to Boardwalk Street, take a left to Thayer Street, walk up the block. It’s at the base of the giant hill, only thing on that side of the street, right next to the ocean.”

“… Mmhm.” He wasn’t looking at him. Okay, fair.

“See you around?” He gave the teenager a wave.

As he turned to leave, he heard a soft “See you around.”

——-

“Um- is this seat taken?”

Greg glanced up in surprise from his lawnchair at the voice. That surprise quickly turned into relief at the shock of messy hair, even if the teenager looked like he was trying to curl into himself while still standing. “Nope. Go ahead.”

He sat down on the other lawnchair, tucking his knees against his chest and glancing skywards.

For a few minutes all was quiet.

“… It’s a nice night.”

“Sure is,” Greg returned easily. “We get a lot of those around here, especially in summer.” The kid looked so sad and he ached to do something about it, but pouncing was ill-advised right now.

A star shot across the sky. Suddenly that pain became a look of sheer joy, the boy gasping in delight. Greg smiled. “Pretty, huh? Meteorites are aweso-”

“Meteors.”

“Mm?”

“Oh- uh-” The boy flushed. “They’re only meteorites if they don’t disintegrate before they hit the ground. Otherwise they’re meteors.”

“No kidding. What about comets, then?”

“Oh, those are like-” He held up his hands a width apart. “They’re small solar system bodies made out of ice, and when they get close to the sun, the sun warms them up, and that makes them start releasing gasses- it’s called outgassing? And that’s what makes them look like they do- although they don’t always get a tail.”

“The only comet I’ve ever heard about is Haley’s Comet,” Greg mused.

“Oh, we won’t see that again until 2061,” he chattered. “That comet only comes around every seventy-five years, give or take a year.”

“Well look at you, little astronomer!” Aw hell, that face was cute. It looked just like Steven’s when Steven was going off about music. “Okay, what do you know about other solar- bodies?” That was the term he’d used right? “In our solar system.”

“You- really wanna know?”

“Yeah!” For all his son was a space prince he knew dip about the solar system. “Lay it on me.”

“Oh- geez- where to start-! Okay, did you know a day on Venus is longer than an earth year? Uhhh- the footprints on the moon?” He pointed up, like Greg might’ve forgotten where the moon was. “Those’ll be there for a hundred million years- oh here’s a really cool one; if two pieces of the same kind of metal touch while in space, they permanently bond because the atoms straight up have no way of knowing that they’re separate! It doesn’t happen on earth because there’s air and water between the pieces.” He stretched out one foot, eyes locked on the starscape above, face practically glowing, hands moving as he spoke, as if trying to pluck the wonders he spoke of from the sky to show him. “The highest peak on any planet in our solar system is Olympus Mons, which is a giant volcano on Mars that’s like, three times as big as Everest! Neutron stars–those are the densest and littlest stars we know of so far–their radius is around six miles long but their mass might be several times greater than our own sun, and they might spin six hundred times a second because of their weird physics-”

Greg didn’t realize how hard he was smiling until Danny stopped, cheeks turning bright red.

“U-um- sorry, didn’t mean to just go off like that-”

Greg waved a hand. “It’s fine. I asked, right? Besides, that was all pretty cool.” He wondered how much Steven knew.

Quiet again.

“It really is a nice night,” the boy murmured.

“If you stick around, you’ll get used to them.”

The teenager’s back went rigid. “Uh-”

“Look,” Greg said with a slow sigh. He set aside his guitar. “… I don’t pretend to know exactly what your situation is. And I’m not demanding to know, either. I have some guesses-”

The blood drained from the boy’s face.

“-But! Well… I’d be a hypocrite if I turned you over to the police. I get it, I really do. But I’m a father, kiddo. I just… want you to be safe. Wherever that is, however that has to happen. Even if the law wouldn’t exactly be smiling at me for how that comes around.”

“… So you’re saying… you’re… not? Gonna call the police?”

“No. And frankly we’ve got enough weirdness going on here that I don’t think a lot of people will be too upset at something new if you just started hanging around. That’s what my son’s friend started doing, for days, and nobody questioned her. They all just assumed she’d just moved to Ocean Town nearby and, well, she had.”

“Son?” Now that his fear was easing, he was processing that. “You’ve got a son?”

“Yup.” He didn’t bother trying to hide the pride in his voice. “About your age, too. If you do start hanging around here, you can expect to run into him. He’s very much a people person. Spends a lot of time wandering town and usually ends up here at some point or another.”

“Huh.” There was something else in his face now, a look Greg recognized very much indeed. It took everything in him to not physically react to the yearning in his eyes. “… If he’s anything like you that… doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Steven is a million times my better, trust me,” he chuckled. “I know I’m his dad and it’s kind of my job to say that, but really, he is.”

“Heh…” the boy stretched his legs.

Silence.

“You got a place to sleep?”

The big, baby blues were defensive again. “Yeah.”

“Sleeping bag?”

“Mmhm.”

“… And you’re not lying?” he coaxed gently.

“No.” Though still lined with borderline aggressive caution, Greg could read his face well enough. He wasn’t lying.

“Okay. But if the weather ever gets really bad, come find me. We’ll figure something out- and it won’t be with me,” he added hastily as the boy quirked an eyebrow, drawing his legs in again. “You can crash with my son, maybe, or I’ll find somewhere else you’d feel safe in, but I wouldn’t try to make you stay in a space with me alone. I get it. Stranger danger.”

That got a head tilt. “He doesn’t live with you?”

“Ah- no.” That old pang, especially given recent events. “He lives with his mom’s relatives. It’s a sort of… joint custody thing, but we’re on good terms. He comes down and sees me all the time, and I go over there all the time. We cook together. Hang out. He’s fifteen minutes away by walking from here. I basically just don’t actually sleep there, really, unless he wants me to.”

And lately he’d wanted him to quite frequently. Especially after the other night. It had taken a minute of comfortable silence while eating for Greg to realize that if he’d only slept five hours, so had Steven, since Steven had gotten back from his walk not minutes before Greg finally passed out. Steven squirmed under his gentle questioning but caved quickly enough, admitting he’d had a nightmare and wanted to go clear his head. Even better, he didn’t resist Greg’s offer to stay over for the rest of the week.

That therapy sure was helping. Little steps. It hadn’t stopped the nightmares, and the boy still went pink occasionally, but Steven was opening up, accepting help. Greg was proud of him.

Now hopefully this kid would accept some manner of help, too.

… He probably should explain the magical aliens, huh. Then again, if the boy was hanging around Beach City so much…

Well it wasn’t like all the gems had humanoid anatomy to their forms. Hell, Bixbite had a claw! And the kid hung around Fish Stew Pizza often enough to have probably seen her.

“So have you seen the- uh-” He gestured out over the city. The boy blinked in confusion before understanding dawned on his face.

“Oh, you mean the literal aliens walking around.” He snorted at Greg’s face. “Well they’re not exactly subtle.”

“Uh- no, you’re right, they’re not,” he laughed weakly. “It’s a good thing the ones that look less human have the sense to avoid Beach City during the day during tourist season but there are slips now and again.”

“I’d say it’s kind of amazing the news hasn’t spread but like- aliens. Who’s gonna believe that.”

“Exactly. You have no idea how long that’s kept us safe.”

Something passed across his face, something grim and hard and understanding and wow it made a rock lodge in his gut. The look was gone in seconds, but some of that steel remained. The nod the boy gave was way too mature for a kid his age. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d imagine it’d be bad if it got out beyond Beach City. I won’t say anything.”

“We all appreciate that,” Greg said softly, still stunned. “Uh- thanks, kiddo.”

“Mmhm.” He stretched out again.

A breeze blew through, ruffled their hair.

“Danny.”

Greg’s head turned from the starscape above them. “'Scuse me?”

“Danny. My name’s Danny.”

“Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Greg. Greg Universe.” He held out his hand across the divide of the lawn chairs. Danny studied it for a moment before taking it.

“It’s… been nice to meet you too.” A hint of a grin. “Universe? Really?”

He flushed. “Ah, well- bit of a story, tha-”

“How’d you manage to land the coolest last name in the world? You and your kid get 'Universe’ and I get something dorky as hell? That’s not fair.”

Greg stared at him for a moment before laughing.

He liked this kid already.

#danny phantom #phicc #steven universe #greg universe #danny fenton #steven quartz universe #su greg #su steven #steven universe future spoilers #suf spoilers #my writing

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