#i think about this line and its delivery at least once a week

[lilgaymac]

did they forget to save this line for s15 mac or

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

ik the post was from like a week ago but would like to hear your thoughts on jackie and the prescription drug thing because it really isnt discussed!

Absolutely. Jackie has prooooblems and I really wish they were more openly talked about in the fandom.

So there are at least three references to Jackie abusing prescription drugs in canon. I forget what the third is (I might be misremembering it but I'm pretty sure it's there), but the first two are in "Pilot" and "Blood Hive". The reason why Shauna is asleep during the flight is that Jackie has given her Valium, a benzo (its generic name is diazepam) that in the 70s through 90s was commonly prescribed for anxiety and to an extent still is. What's remarkable about this is the casual way everyone involved treats it; this is consistent in how Shauna and Jackie themselves talk about Jackie's drug use, but the scene also establishes that even Jackie's mother doesn't seem to see any need to monitor her teenage daughter's access to her pills. As Jackie puts it, "Swiped these from my mom's medicine cabinet. Valium. She's got, like, a never-ending supply, so I doubt she'll even notice."

A series of questions already arises here, all of which the show is fascinatingly uninterested in answering, possibly because the screenwriters share Shauna and Jackie's flippant attitude (which is generational, as I'll discuss below) but, I think, likely also because what's implied about the Taylor household here is more disturbing if it's not spelled out. Why does Mrs. Taylor have that much of a med lying around at all times? Has Jackie taken the Valium before? If so, why and how often? (Does she, perhaps, use it to get through sex acts with Jeff?)

The second time this comes up is in the scene in which Shauna and Jackie are discussing their respective Wilderness skills as Shauna butchers one of Nat and Travis's first quarries. Almost everyone in the fandom has favorite bits of this scene, which is full of fantastic Shaunajackie lines and moments, so it's surprising to me that this isn't discussed more, but again, the breathtakingly casual delivery probably goes some way towards distracting the viewer from what's actually being communicated. (It could also be that the line in question here comes immediately before "Wowza, Shipman," which understandably steals the show):

Shauna: Remember when Kiffy Schumacher broke her arm right before we were supposed to go to Whipsplash River, and you told her that if she shared her Percocet, we'd all crash bingo at the Elks Lodge instead? Jackie: Wait. Is this a pep talk? Wowza, Shipman. Wow, that is so not your style.

Uh. Girls? You okay there? "Poppin' Percs" is something Kendrick Lamar accused Drake of earlier this month. The company that makes this drug is currently being pounded in court by the Attorneys General of Ohio, Mississippi, Missouri, New York, and possibly other states too since the last time I checked. You're talking about like it's Pez.

Percocet is a mixture of oxycodone, which is an opioid, and paracetamol, which is a common over-the-counter painkiller (it's called acetaminophen in the US and a few other countries; it's the active ingredient in Tylenol and Panadol). Unlike Valium, oxy is something I've been on in the past--I, like Kiffy Schumacher, had a badly fucked-up arm a few years ago--so I can speak to how it's currently treated in American medical culture. You're given a very small amount of it at once, you pace yourself taking it and alternate it with over-the-counter painkillers unless absolutely necessary, and if you have any left over when you decide you no longer need it, which I did, you surrender whatever pills you still have on you to the police. I know that the current widely accepted view on drug control is that it's wildly overdone in the US, and I agree with that for the most part, but in this case the tight controls on this sort of painkiller are a regulation that was written in blood. And the opioid epidemic is still ongoing; in fact, in some ways it's worse, since people are using black-market opioids now that are even more dangerous than oxy and its ilk.

I do want to stress that Jackie's pattern of drug use isn't unusual for a teenager; in fact, it's pretty classic. "Adolescents....most commonly reported receiving prescription[s] for free from a friend or relative, although significant proportions of adolescents also used their own prescriptions, purchased drugs from a dealer, or took them from friends or family without asking." (The article linked cites data taken in 2006, when the prescription drug abuse epidemic on whose upward slope Jackie lives had plateaued.) I also want to clarify that the cavalier attitude Shauna and Jackie have towards prescription drugs isn't unique to this category of substances; teenagers in the 1990s were much more blasé about controlled substances in general than they are today, and adolescent prescription drug abuse has declined less than most other categories:

(Note the especially massive drop-off in adolescent cigarette use after the turn of the millennium. Lottie in her kinderwhore-meets-Empire Records party outfit diffidently holding a cig is very much an image from the past these days. And yet this isn't entirely a success story; adolescents who are still engaging in substance abuse are OD'ing a lot more than they were thirty years ago.)

I don't really have a conclusion here, because I just want to encourage the fandom to discuss this aspect of Jackie's character, not necessarily to adopt any particular narrativization or interpretation of it. This, then, is the basics on Jackie and prescription drugs. Poor girl.

[mychlapci]

We've talked robot periods before right? I gotta project here, make it someone else's problem. Rodimus hates getting his period. He's so uncomfortable and cranky from cramps and frame aches, his period is always long and heavy and leaves him a mess by the time its over. He gets a brilliant idea though while he's writhing in berth one night on how to make the pain stop.

Ratchet did not think it was as brilliant as Rodimus did when he showed up in medbay for a pregnancy test. It was a perfect plan, Rodimus didn't see the problem. If he was sparked, his valve lining wouldn't refresh for another stellar cycle, no more pain! Ratchet was ready to physically grab the captain to shake some sense into him, if Rodimus wasn't carrying he would have.

The pains from carrying are hardly as bad for Rodimus as his period pain, at least that's what he tells Ratchet. It's a different kind of pain and discomfort. His frame was achey in different spots, his bladder was constantly being crushed or kicked at, he was so tired all the time, it was still a better ordeal though than the bad periods. Unlike his period, the pregnancy had plenty of benefits to offer.

Rodimus' tits were huge now with milk for his little sparklings, and he looked damn good with the extra carrying weight. His period made him feel gross and bloated in the tank but he glowed with his carriage, other mechs couldn't keep their hands off their sexy milf of a captain. Maybe it was the matrix speaking to him or some kind of prime feeling Rodimus had, but carrying and repopulating Cybertron just filled him with a spark deep sense of satisfaction. He was absolutely built to be a carrier and provide his planet plenty of cute little babies, and of course they're gonna be cute I mean haven't you seen Rodimus? Ratchet can't even fight him about the dumb idea after so long, not when he's as distracted as everyone else about how gorgeous Rodimus was with a baby in him.

The pains from birth were terrible, it was the only time Rodimus had slight regret in getting pregnant. He grunted and cried in the medbay over it all, but really? He could take the hours of pain versus the weeks of his long periods. When he would zone out and stop thinking about it, it almost felt good having his valve stretched so far open by his fat little sparkling's helm and shoulders. When he was pushing the second bitlet out, he ended up overloading on the delivery table. He had 2 healthy and happy bitlets latched to his nozzles, and the main thought Rodimus' mind was how long he'd have to wait to be sparked again. No way he's going back to the decommissioning weeks of pain when he can get so much time away from it with so much reward back.

oh lord oh lord this is so hot. Ouch though, Rodimus' periods must be really terrible for him to prefer carrying.

Pregnancy is honestly soooo good for him. He looks sexier and feels sexier, constantly taunting mechs with his big swollen belly. The birth was his only doubt, but he found he doesn't mind it – the stretch was pleasant when he really thought about it, the feeling of his sparkling driving into his ceiling node every time it slipped back in even brought him to a squirming overload right there in the stirrups, so the way he sees it, this was an exceptional trade-off.

Rodimus gets pregnant as soon as possible. Once his valve was good for interfacing he simply started taking it raw again and a miracle happened once more. He's still breastfeeding even as his third sparkling is about to be born, tits constantly heavy with milk.... And this time, he's looking forward to the labour, too <3

[fandom-go-round]

Office Romance: Ashiya Douman x Reader

You're the new kid in the mail room and everything is going smoothly. Even the CEO seems to like you! Hopefully you can keep it up, especially when you lose his package.

Warnings: Sex, Sexual Situations, Oral Sex, Implied Dom/Sub, Public Sex, Voyeurism, Implied Pain Kink, Size Kink, Rough Sex

Part Two of the 3000 follower giveaway! I hope you enjoy!

            The first time you meet, you’re training with your new boss on the job. You’d been hired as a mail room associate, the newest in a long line of failed hires. You hadn’t asked too many questions, more desperate for the job than you wanted to admit. Now, a few days later, you were trying to keep up as your boss showed you around the high rise.

            “The big bosses like to have their mail hand delivered.” Your boss gestures to a wall of neat looking mailboxes and you nod, watching as he begins to unload the little cart. “Your last job of the day will be to deliver the mail up here. Once that’s done, you can head home. You can finish up here.”

            Your boss walks away to do something and you start to unload, humming a little as you do so. The mail is in neat little piles and it’s easy to see what belongs to who. Someone clears their throat behind you and you jump, turning to see a man. He’s tall, much taller than you with cold eyes. You quickly get out of his way, watching him take his mail. A. Douman. Huh. What a hottie.

            You finish up the deliveries and wait for your boss, watching the hot CEO guy walk back to his office. The end of your day comes quickly and you don’t think much of it, exhausted after learning so much new stuff. The next few weeks will be tiring but, hopefully, worth the effort.

            The front of the mail room becomes your responsibility and you do your best to keep it tidy. It’s not great. Ok its not organized in the least but you’re trying! There are neat piles everywhere and a method to your madness. Your boss looks like he wants to scold you but all he does is sigh and shake his head. None of you get paid enough to care more.

            Douman comes down one morning because he has a special package request. You have his package, you know you do, but its hard to find past the other stacks of boxes. You swear he’s going to fire you by the twitching of his eyes but he never complains, thanking you before walking off. It takes a long time before you figure out; he was staring at your ass the entire time you bent over.

            The two of you go back and forth like this for weeks. Douman comes down to the mail room to get extra packages and you deliver mail to his office in the afternoons. Soon, you’re happily chatting with him when you see him, everyone else looking terrified. Douman is a stickler in the office but somehow you never see that side of him. He’s kind and polite and never gives you any issues.

            Does any of this help with your crush? No, not at all. You had no idea that CEOs could be that ripped and it doesn’t look like he works out. He always seems to stand just a little taller when you talk. You can’t help admiring him; he has such nice broad shoulders. Douman, of course, notices but doesn’t call you out about your staring.

            He likes you, even if your organization skills make him want to faint. You’re so upbeat its infectious, even when it should annoy him. He can’t help but seek you out more and more. Finally, he’s going to follow through with his plan and you won’t be able to resist him.

            It’s late, super late, on a Friday. You had stayed over to finish up some tasks before a much-needed vacation. You were mildly panicked when, halfway through the door, you got a call from Douman asking you to bring a package up. The issue? He didn’t have a package toady.

            You tear the mail room apart looking for this package. Under tables, on the shelves, everywhere. No sign of this package. Eventually you realized you were never going to find it and head up to Douman’s office, ready to face the music.

            It was a long walk to the top and Douman was waiting, the door to his office open. You poke your head in, the CEO giving you a smile. You give a half smile back, nerves shooting up your spine. He waved you in, standing up from behind the desk.

            “Come in come in dear.” You slide into the office, closing the door behind you. Douman smirks, just a little but quickly makes a face of concern. “Is something wrong?”

            “Well, I’m sorry sir but I couldn’t find your package.” Douman let out a hum, watching you shift your weight back and forth. There are a few moments of silence before be gestures for you to sit. You sit, watching as he rounds the desk and stands in front of you. He’s so tall, you don’t know if you’re intimated or turned on.

            “I have something to confess.” The smirk was back on his face and you swallowed as he leaned over, arm braced on the back of the chair. He leaned closer, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “I lied.”

            Your eyes widened and you didn’t have time to move, Douman kissing you hard. You gasped against his mouth and he slid his tongue against yours. He moaned as you shuddered, your arms wrapping around his neck. It all clicked for you as he got onto his knees, moving between your legs. He wanted as excuse; you were completely alright with that.

            He wasted no time in stripping you, unbuttoning your shirt so he could play with your tits. Your bra was in the way but he didn’t seem to mind, mouthing at them through the fabric. You whimpered, grinding against the seat and did your best to undo his tie. He let you struggle, chuckling against your breasts before taking your pants off.

            Things were moving quickly and it felt wonderful, to have him calling the shots. All you saw was the flash of his smirk before he was eating your out, panties thrown somewhere in the room. You moaned, fingers sinking into his hair as you bucked against his face, mouth open as you gasped. Your nipples hardened in the colder air and Douman’s hands wrapped around your thighs to pull you closer. He ate you out like a starving man, all tongue and teeth and heat.

            You were afraid you would cum against his mouth and it took a few good tugs on his scalp before he pulled away. His pupils were blown and he groaned as you gave a gentler tug on his hair.

            “Please, I want you inside me.” You were happy to beg if it would get you want you wanted. Douman kissed you hard, letting you taste yourself before tugging you towards the desk. It was already clear, something you hadn’t noticed before and it sent a thrill down your spine that he had been planning this.

            You continued to make out as you stripped Douman out of his shirt, running your hands across each section of available skin. He really was gorgeous. You kissed down his neck, tugging at his belt as he pulled his pants off. Part of you wondered if you should slow down, talk about this but then Douman was pushing into you and all you could think about was his cock.

            Holy fuck was he big. You felt like he was in your throat with how deep he pushed. You wailed, head hitting the desk and he chuckled, sliding your bra off to join the rest of your clothes. He didn’t wait for you to adjust and you loved it, the hard thrusts and bruising grip on your hips. It felt like he was trying to mold you, mark you, and you loved every second.

            You were going to cum soon, your fingers circling your clit as Douman watched. He smirked when you met his eyes, rolling his hips just right so you whimpered. Your other hand clung to his arm planted on the desk, the wood creaking but holding. Your orgasm hit hard, your moan dying in your throat as you rocked towards him. Douman groaned, eyes locked on your face as you came.

            He pulled out and began to stroke himself, muttering to himself as he did so. You think you heard ‘such a good girl’ and ‘fucking perfect’ as you slid onto the floor. Douman’s eyes widened as you stuck your tongue out and it only took one more stroke before he was cumming over your face. He let out a satisfied sigh, both of you coming off of your highs. Douman went around the desk to grab a wipe, offering you a hand once he was back.

            You smiled as he helped you off the floor, taking a moment to breathe. There was a conversation that had to be had, no doubt, but you were confident things were going to turn out just fine.

[maximura]

Maybe Monster, Part 02

So this is the next chapter of that Gang AU I wrote in 2019 and thought was lost. I haven't made a nice post for it yet and it doesn't have a proper title because it's all still just drafts I'm trying to piece together. I kept calling it my "Maybe" story so now it'll just go by Maybe Monster. It will not make any sense unless you read Part 01.

Warnings: violence, mild swearing and typos. Words: About 7500k. Characters: Ateez and Seventeen.

****

Maybe Monster Part 02

6 months earlier. 

There was a 7-Eleven that once let San sleep out back without calling the cops. He had chased away a group of obnoxious teenagers trying to rob the place and the owner took enough pity on him to let him sleep in the small space where they usually unload all the deliveries. He got fed a few times a week, things that were perfectly fine but dented or unsold by the end of the day and would’ve ended up in the trash anyway. Not that it’s above him to dig through trash. As long as it’s still wrapped, it’s still good. 

It was going fine until the owner’s wife got wind of the whole situation and San had to move on from one 7-Eleven to another. The next one wasn’t so accommodating but at least he knew their routine and when all the food would be thrown out. If the cameras catch him digging through the trash like an overgrown raccoon, nobody calls him up on it. 

The men’s shelter was a few blocks away, it was always busy, always overrun and always so chaotic. But he hadn’t belonged there. He wasn’t a man who had fallen on hard times. He wasn’t a man who fell in with the wrong crowd. He was hardly a man at all. 

He had just turned eighteen, no longer a child of the state and therefore, completely invisible. The church refuge has been kind for awhile, until he was caught stealing food. It had only been a piece of bread but apparently you can only have it during business hours. He had aged out of their care by then anyhow, suddenly a threat to all the other children there by virtue of age. 

There was nowhere to go. Sometimes he lines up at the shelter and gets a hot meal and shower. Sometimes he shows up too late and they send him away with a sandwich if he’s lucky. Sometimes he sees the fights breaking out and just keeps walking. 

The best days are when it’s slow and there’s hot water left or the communal washing machines aren’t busy. Those days are rare. 

The worst days are always when it rains because there’s no way to escape the damp cold. 

The weather gets warmer now though and it’s easier to live and sleep under the stars without fear of double pneumonia. 

San considered himself lucky to find a low rooftop that hasn’t been occupied yet, there was a paint factory across the road and even though it had been shut down for months, there was always a faint smell of chemical lingering in the air. But now, as San lays there staring up at the dark skies, he doesn’t think about that. Instead he thinks about the mother who loved him before she died and the father who didn’t. 

They are both long gone now and he was left with nothing but scattered memories and his father’s debts. He was only sixteen then, with no real means to pay them off.

So bank took the family home. 

After that, he really had nothing at all. 

San sighs at the memory, it seems forever ago, but in reality, it’s been barely two years. Adjusting the balled up jacket under his neck he closes his eyes and tries to get some sleep. 

He’s just about to drift off when there’s a quiet scuff of boots on pavement, the sound coming from somewhere below him. 

It’s followed by the rattle of a chain fence and then a tired ‘fuck!’. 

There shouldn’t be anyone around here. San staked the area out for weeks on end to make sure. The 7-Eleven nearby, with its persistent security cameras, deters most street sleepers and the dangerously lawless Docklands a few blocks away was always the more attractive option. 

San crawls towards the edge of the rooftop, slowly peering down into the alleyway below, careful to stay hidden in the shadows. 

There’s a figure clad in a dark green jacket and hat, standing in front of the fence that usually leads to the old paint factory. The whole time San has been sleeping across the street, he’s never seen anybody try to break in. The property hasn’t been opened in months so San has no idea why this stranger would want to get inside there now. Anything of value would’ve been taken long ago. 

The Stranger turns around a few time, surveying his surroundings, before disappearing into a patch of shadow. 

San almost loses sight of him but suddenly there’s a flash of blue flame and he watches with fascination as it cuts through the chained fence like a hot knife through butter. 

The Stranger slips through the newly form hole and gets about five steps before the alarms are tripped.  It’s loud and pervasive and invasive, causing San’s hands to fly to his ears in protest. 

The Stranger runs back out through the hole in the fence as police sirens wailed in the distance. The 7-Eleven worker must have called. 

San groans. 

Cops.

Great.

He rushes back to collect the few belongings he has, throwing them hurriedly into his blue backpack before climbing down the hidden back ladder. He’s half way down when he comes unexpectedly face to face with the Stranger trying to climb up. 

“Out of the way kid!”

“Don’t call me that!” San bristles in annoyance. 

“I’m kind of in a hurry here.”

“To the roof?” San snorts in disbelief. “Stupid way to get caught but whatever.” 

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just nudges past the stranger and slides the rest of the way down. Under the cover of darkness, he runs towards his other hiding spot; a literal hole in the wall on the side of another abandoned building. It used to be an old bakery with a small front room where they used to sell bread to the public. It’s dangerously run down, unsafe and always on the verge of collapse, that’s why nobody else hides there, not even the most desperate of street kids. 

Within two minutes of pushing into the old building, San hears footsteps approaching. 

It’s the Stranger, who flashes an unexpectedly bright smile at him as he shoves into the tiny space next to San. 

“Kinda small in here.”

San just stares at him. 

“I’m assuming the cops don’t check this place?”

San shakes his head.

“Okay, good.” The Stranger says, weirdly conversational. “You’re gonna be real quite right?”

San nods swiftly. 

“Great.” Another wide grin is flashed at him and San can’t remember a time when anyone smiled at him this much for no particular reason. 

So they both sit in the darkness, cramped and uncomfortably close. San doesn’t talk and thankfully the Stranger doesn’t either but San sees the way there’s a hand resting inside that green jacket. He sees the black outline of the gun. 

In the distance, police sirens come, bringing with them a swarm of crunchy footsteps and typical voices muttering too much of absolutely nothing. Cops all talk the same. They never know anything. 

It’s the criminal detectives and forensics team that everyone should worry about. 

After half an hour of intense noises, everything fades to quiet.

There’s nothing but dark stillness when they finally climb out into the alley way. 

The Stranger hums, surprised and pleased. 

“Huh, interesting. Well, thanks kid, seeya round.”

And then he’s gone. 

San’s had plenty of weird encounters in the wild but this must be in the top three for sure. 

He adjusts the straps of his backpack and treks to another hiding place in the city. 

****

“Well?” Seonghwa asks when Hongjoong climbs back into the Honda Civic. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Drive. Slowly.” Hongjoong says, stuffing his jacket and hat into a bag under his feet. “There might still be cops around.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “Yeah no shit, I heard them. You tripped the security?”

“Yeah. Ground sensors.”

Seonghwa cruises the Honda calmly onto the main roads, resisting the temptation to speed away from the few stray cop cars still loitering around, especially the one that stops next to them at the red lights. 

“That’s interesting.”

“Definitely interesting.” Hongjoong agrees as he flips the old CD player on. It plays The Carpenters and Seonghwa grimaces at the way Hongjoong starts singing along to the strains of Superstar. 

The cop next to them rolls up his window with a disgusted groan and Seonghwa smiles inwardly when they turn off the main road to drive home. 

“That paint factory hasn’t done business for eight months. Big Red bought the company then deliberately ran it dead. Ground sensors are an expensive investment to protect a few ancient machines. Which means-“

“There’s something of worth there.” Hongjoong finishes. 

“Exactly.”

“We need another way in.”

“Obviously,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “Did you seriously think you could just cut a hole in the fence and walk right in?”

Hongjoong laughs and turns to his work partner with a lopsided grin. “You know what? For like five seconds, yeah I did.”

“We can’t trip the ground sensors again. We’ll have to go really high-“

“-or really low.”

Seonghwa hums in agreement. “I’ll talk to Wonwoo about getting the underground plans.”

“Yunho can get them.”

“But then we’d have to tell him why we want them.” Seonghwa groans. “He’ll talk my ear off.”

“I’ll ask him. Don’t worry.”

“Hongjoong, I really think we need to keep this one between us.”

“You still sore after that fight you two had?” Hongjoong asks. “He doesn’t hate you. I think he likes you more than he likes me!”

Seonghwa scoffs. “You must be joking right? He’s always questioning everything I say. He only respects me because you and Seungcheol tell him to.”

Hongjoong just looks at Seonghwa like he’s grown antlers. 

“He questions all of us. It’s just what he does. We just don’t take it personally like you do. His eye for detail is why he’s a good point man and you know it.”

Seonghwa sighs now. “He wasn’t like this when we first found him.”

“Well he’s not sixteen anymore.” 

“He was easier as a sixteen year old.”

Hongjoong cackles loudly. “Are you serious? You were complaining about how clingy he was back then and now you’re complaining about how bitchy he is at twenty three. Just face it: our kid just grew up.”

“Our kid?” Seonghwa muses, “I think he’s your kid.”

“Only when he’s being a bitch to you.”

“Which is all the time.”

“Whatever. Leave it to me, I’ll get the plans. But first, can you detour around that corner?”

“To the spicy chicken place again? Thought you were carb cutting.”

“I’ve had an unsuccessful night, I think I deserve spicy chicken. My mental health needs it.”

“Okay enjoy your early cardiac disease.” Seonghwa teases but takes the detour as requested and then reminds Hongjoong not to forget his side order of Pad Thai. 

Back at Headquarters later, now fed and warm, Seungcheol grills them about the failed reconnaissance venture. 

“There's no visible security personnel front or back but a huge amount of ground sensors as soon as you step on the property.”

Seungcheol raises as eyebrow at that. “That’s interesting.”

Hongjoong nods. “There’s cameras around the entire perimeter and also almost 180 degrees of security camera coverage from the 7-Eleven across the street. It’s not even deserted. There’s a few street sleepers nearby. It‘ll be difficult to get in and out of without someone noticing.”

“Drop in from the air?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “Distance between the rooftops is too far. Even for zip lines.”

“Underground?”

“Yeah, looks like that’s the only way in.”

Seungcheol nods slowly, chewing through the information. 

“Get the underground plans from Wonwoo. I want a team meeting and plan about this by the end of the week. Red can’t just take my shit without consequence. I want what’s in that building.”

Hongjoong nods, ignoring Seonghwa’s ‘I told you so’ smirk. 

“Which team? Soonyoung is in Japan with Jihoon. Jeonghan and Mingyu are still in China helping out Jun. Hansol is stuck in New York. Unless you want to call in Heeseung?"

Seungcheol shakes his head, “No, I want to keep this between the four of us. It’ll be too dangerous to manage if more people know.”

They’re dismissed with the wave of a whisky glass. 

“I’ll go talk to Wonwoo now.” Hongjoong says, as they exit the business floor of their Headquarters and head towards the living wing. 

“He hates you. I’ll go talk to him.”

“He hates everyone. It won’t matter who asks.”

“Fine.” Seonghwa relents.

They find Wonwoo in the kitchen, heating a glass of warm milk in the microwave. He nods a greeting before going back to peering at his rotating glass of milk. 

“Hey, you got a minute? We need-“

There’s a hand held out in their direction. It doesn’t lower until the microwave finishes and starts beeping its countdown. 

“Okay, so-“

The hand is held back up, silencing them again. 

They wait until the other man takes a sip of milk and sits down at the big wooden table like he runs this whole place. Which he kind of does. 

“Can we talk now?” Hongjoong asks. 

Wonwoo eyes the doorway. 

“I checked already.” Seonghwa says by way of answer. “Yunho is still out on mission. Jongho is asleep. Mingi is in the gym. And Mufasa is pacing around his office in his Armani suit.”

Wonwoo cracks a smile at that, finally nodding for them to talk. “Go on.”

“It’s about Red. He’s hiding material at the old paint factory on the edge of town. The only problem is the ground is bugged with sensors, there’s no air entry options and there’s street level cameras everywhere. We need underground plans by the end of the week. Seungcheol wants a meeting but just strictly the four of us.”

Wonwoo takes it all in, sipping his milk quietly, waiting for them to finish. 

“Okay.”

It’s all the older man says before shuffling to the sink to wash his glass and waving them goodnight. 

Hongjoong sits back in relief. “That went well? Maybe the milk was really good.”

“Maybe it’s laced with Xanax.”

“Or he suddenly developed a soft spot for us.”

They both look at each other with a grin. “Definitely the Xanax.”

****

There’s a red Honda Civic parked next to San’s hiding hole. He had a decent sleep and when he woke up, there it was, perfectly positioned for him to car jack. 

It’s a 2001 model at best. Not likely bugged with screeching alarms, judging by how ancient it looked, except for the tires. The tires and hub caps look strangely new. 

Stranger still, nobody has come to claim it in over two hours. 

Time is of the essence. Seize the day and all that Latin motivation. 

San has his father’s old crowbar and figures he can at least sell the shiny new hub caps for some money. It’d be nice to buy decent food again. 

He’s gotten two off when there’s a hand that closes around his shoulder. 

It startles him like an electric shock and his body reacts by spinning around to swing the crowbar at some unsuspecting ankles. 

But if he’s quick, the ankles are even quicker.

And now the ankles are laughing at him. 

By the time he’s standing up with the crowbar in front of his body like a weapon, he finally sees the Laughing Ankles. 

“Oh. It’s….you.”

“Hey kid.”

“I said don’t call me that!”

It’s late afternoon and San can finally see the other man’s face clearly now. 

He’s younger than expected, with dark dirty blonde hair and really straight teeth. He’s about Sans height but broader and built in ways San’s pathetic muscles could only dream about. 

Handsome, some part of his brain whispers, but he’ll pretend he didn’t hear that. 

“Stealing is a crime you know.” The Man says, leaning casually against the Honda with his hands in his pockets, as if he wasn’t even threatened by the feral creature holding a crowbar. 

“So is breaking and entering.” San counters, offended by the casual response. 

“I guess we’ll call it even then.”

San lowers his crowbar, staring slack mouthed. “You’re not gonna call the cops?”

The Man screws up his face. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh.” San breathes, relieved but feeling out of sorts. “Why not?”

“What’s the point?” The Man shrugs. “Unless you want to go to jail? Awful free meals, very permanent shelter? I mean, it’s a pretty cool deal except for the torture, stabbings and lack of freedom.”

San shakes his head. “No, no, I’m good here.”

“You live around these parts huh?” 

San pauses. “No, just visiting.”

Something about his answer makes the Man chuckle. 

“Okay, well I’m pretty hungry. You eaten lunch yet?”

San shakes his head again. He hasn’t had dinner or breakfast either. 

“Alright, put my hubs back on and I’ll buy you a hot dog.”

It’s the one thing San thanks his father for teaching him; how to hot wire and work cars apart before putting them back together again. There’s not exactly a lot of legal applications but for once, it proves helpful. 

“You a mechanic’s kid or something?” The Man asks, surprised at the speed and skill.

“Sort of.”

“Interesting.”

It’s the way the Man says it that has San on edge. His mind floods with images of being kidnapped and trafficked or turned into a drug mule. He’s seen it happen countless times before and would rather die than let that happen to him.

But he’s so tired of being hungry and vows to bail as soon as he’s eaten. 

They walk to the nearest 7-Eleven and he gets two hot dogs. Then a third, with cheese. It’s the best meal San’s had in months probably. He can’t even remember. 

He’s chugging a blue Gatorade when the Man gets a phone call that turns his bright face all stony and cold. It’s a short phone call with barely two words exchanged. 

“Gotta go. Stay out of trouble.” The Man says, walking away before hesitating and turning back round. “Don’t go near the abandoned paint factory tonight.”

And then he’s gone again, before San has even finished his Gatorade. 

It’s later, when he’s walking to the other end of the city, that San finds a folded twenty dollar note in his jacket pocket. 

Weird. 

****

Two days later, San’s curiosity gets the better of him and he’s back down near the paint factory again, taking care to stay hidden in shadow and well away from the front of the 7-Eleven. He knows there’s cameras. He saw the monitors that one time he went inside to contemplate buying some Skittles but not wanting to break his twenty dollar note, he stole a sandwich instead. 

Resting now, hidden in shadow on the landing beside a laundromat, he’s startled awake by a sudden burst of commotion and noise. There’s a mocking laugh followed by a flurry of angry shouting. 

Someone runs past him and rounds the corner to disappear into the shadows towards the old bakery. 

Before he can do the same, a hand yanks the back of San's jacket.

“Not so fast.”

Cops. 

Great.

“Where did he go?”

“Who?”

The hand shoves him against the dirty wall. “I don’t have time for this shit. He ran down this alley way, where did he go?”

San struggles against the heavy body caging him in but it’s futile. “I don’t know!”

He’s shoved hard against the jagged wall again, it grazes his cheek uncomfortably. 

“I think….he went behind the 7-Eleven…”

Another cop jogs up to them now, taking in the scene and pulling his partner back. 

“Don’t waste your time. It’s just a useless street kid.”

“He said he’s behind the 7-Eleven.”

“He’s probably lying, they all do that.”

There’s a loud crash coming from outside the alley way and the hand on San’s jacket leaves momentarily, only to shove him onto the ground as the cops run towards the new chaos.

It’s not until later, when the boots and voices and sirens have all faded away, that San quietly sneaks into the old bakery. 

“Oh it’s you, hey kid.”

It’s dark but the light gleams off the Man’s teeth and it reminds San of that book from school, the one with the smiling purple cat that was as helpful as it was a nuisance. 

“They gone?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure about that?”

San nods. “I checked.”

“What else did you see?”

“A lot of cops and a really big car.” San says. “Kinda weird.”

The Man looks at him sharply, the intensity piercing, even through the darkness. 

“How big?” 

It’s a strange question, San thinks. Why is the size of a car the most important question here. 

“Really big?” He replies lamely. 

“Big like a Bentley or big like a Maybach?”

“What’s a Maybach?”

There’s a pause and San thinks he’s annoyed the Man in some way, only for him to continue on in the same steady voice. 

“Was it a little bit bigger than my Civic? Or a lot bigger?”

And ah, those are some dimensions that San does understand. “A lot bigger.”

The Man nods then sits back against the wall in contemplation. There’s a sliver of light than shines across his face for a moment and San wonders who the person opposite him really is. What was he trying to steal? Who was after him? Besides cops and someone in a really big car. He can’t just be another Nobody. He must be a Somebody. 

“Come on, let’s go.”

San looks at the Man standing up now, confused by the invitation and even more confused that it’s extended to him.

“Go where?”

There’s a flash of hesitation, conflict, early regret maybe. San knows those looks well, he’s seen it on the faces of his parents and almost every adult in his life. They always leave but they never want to take him with them. 

“You hungry?”

He’s always hungry so he nods. 

“Then let’s get outta here.”

It’s an uncharacteristically cold night for June and San shivers as they walk, even though he’s wearing almost everything he owns. 

“Here.”

It’s a thick black Nike hoody. 

He must stare at it for an awkwardly long time because the Man rolls his eyes and shoves it against his chest. 

“You keep shivering, it’s giving me anxiety.” The Man says. “Just put it on, it’s just a hoody, not a bomb. God, you’re as paranoid as Seonghwa.”

“Who?”

“Ah, just a guy I know. Don’t repeat that name to anyone though, okay?”

San nods as they stop to let him put the hoody on under his jacket. 

It’s quiet for a moment before the Man talks again. 

“I’m serious about that. Keep his name out of your mouth. Things like that can get you killed out here.”

San looks across, panicked all the sudden, and wondering again, who the hell was walking beside him. Maybe this was the time to run off down one of those alley ways. 

The horror on his face must be obvious because The Man’s serious expression softens a little, not completely, but it’s less threatening. 

“I'm not here to kill you kid. Relax.”

San absolutely does not relax. 

“It’s just very important to me you understand what I’m saying right now. You’ve helped me out a few times now, so I’m going to go easy on you. I know you’re smart. I know you know these streets back to front. But I can and will find you if I need to. So if that name ever leaves your mouth and I get wind of it, I won’t be this nice. You got it?”

San nods like he’s never nodded before. His hunger long forgotten and even the promise of food doesn’t seem worth it anymore. Not from someone who might be a few breaths away from crazy.

He slows down and considers his options. He thinks about running again. There’s a patch of shadow up just ahead and he’s fast, he could make it... 

But they reach the familiar sight of the Honda Civic now and The Man motions for him to get in. He doesn't. He pauses, frozen with his fingers on the door handle. 

“If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it by now.” The Man says, as if reading his mind. 

They are probably words meant to comfort him but all they do is the exact opposite. 

San always trusts his gut, it’s never let him down, but right now it’s twisting uncomfortably in knots; unsure and uncertain. 

“Uh, I’m actually not that hungry.” He says. “I’ll just go if that’s okay.”

The Man just eye rolls condescendinly. 

It all feels so abnormal to San. Even for someone not fond of human interaction, the Man in front of him is behaving in ways that just don’t make sense. 

“Get in the car.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m good, I should be asleep…”

“Why? You got school tomorrow? A job you need to be at?”

It’s a low blow and they both know it. It turns San’s uneasy fear into an angry fire that’s ready to fight. If this is how he dies, then so be it. 

But before he can even spit out an insult the Man is looking at him with another one of those smiles. 

“What? You gonna fight me?”

“Maybe.”

“Listen kid, I got shit to do later tonight. I’m craving spicy chicken wings and a cold beer. If you want to fight me, can you at least wait until I’ve eaten?”

San doesn’t even know how to respond to that. 

“Get in. I’m not asking a third time.”

So San does.

“What’s in that backpack you carry around?” The Man asks him as they drive through the night streets. 

“My stuff.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Just…stuff.”

The Man sighs and it reminds San of his father for a moment, always disappointed and always making everyone feel like they did something wrong. 

“Just clothes and stuff from my mum.” San says, hoping the answers is enough. 

“Why aren’t you ever at that shelter on the other side of town? They have showers and let you sleep there for the night don’t they?”

San scoffs. “The showers are alright if you get there before everyone else and the volunteers are around. It’s not as nice as you think it is.”

“Why’s that?”

“People fight.” San says, looking out the window at the city skyline. “They take your stuff. Some people get…taken advantaged of. I’m not going there unless I need to clean up.”

There’s a weird look on the Man’s face as his eyes meet San’s. They both look away. 

“How do you eat?”

San moves uncomfortably in his seat. The unusual criminal beside him, and San is definitely sure he is a criminal by now, suddenly sounds like a social worker.  

He think he prefers the criminal. 

“Steal it. Or trash dive.”

“How long you been doing this for?”

This.

“Nearly two years.”

It’s quiet after that. Neither talking until they pull up at a small restaurant. 

The car doors are still locked. 

“I’m going to ask you something and I need you not to lie to me.”

“…okay?”

“You know about the gangs of this city don’t you?”

“Only some.” 

“You know what I am then?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Well, nobody’s stupid enough to break into the paint factory. The only thing in there is probably illegal. I saw your gun before... and your clothes are too nice for someone who drives a stupid Honda Civic.”

It must the right thing to say because the Man laughs before turning serious. 

“You scared of me?”

San scoffs. “No.” 

Yes. 

“Who do you belong to?”

“I don’t belong to anybody.”

“I told you not to lie.”

“I’m not!” San says. “I’m not in anyone’s gang.”

“So you’re telling me, that in the two years you’ve been out here on your own, nobody has ever tried to recruit you?”

“Of course they tried. I didn’t say it worked.”

“That sounds like bullshit.” The Man says. “Who tried?”

San’s anger rises again. “What’s it to you? Maybe I’m just good at hiding.”

“I’ll buy you chicken if you tell me how you’ve managed to stay alone and alive this whole time.”

“Ugh, fine!" San huffs, tired and irritated by all the questions. "Everyone’s scared of the paint factory and the big car that sometimes goes there. I figure the closer I am to the danger, the safer I’ll be. Well, it doesn’t really make sense but it's true.”

“So you're just really good at hiding all the time? I find that hard to believe. Someone is always watching.”

“How would you know anything about that?” San asks spitefully.

“Where do you think I came from?”

It’s a loaded response, hanging heavily between them in the car. 

“I....hide in places people don’t go or know about. In the daytime, I stay near the university so they think I’m a student. And when I can’t do that, I sit near the bus stops so people think I’m going somewhere.”

San hates himself for saying anything at all but his gut instincts aren’t blaring out warning sirens anymore, haven’t done for the last fifteen minutes, which is the most surprising fact of all. 

“Alright.” The Man says, unlocking the car doors and getting out. “Let’s eat before I have a hypo.”

San scrambles to follow him. 

“What’s a hypo?”

****

The Man gives him a job. 

He’s never had a real job before. Not that this is a real job at all but he gets paid actual money. It’s not much but to San, holding the notes in his hand, he might as well have won the lottery. 

All he has to do is watch the paint factory and report when the big cars, the Maybach, rolls by. 

The Man doesn’t give him his name. He doesn’t ask for San’s either. It’s strange feeling but then again, San hasn’t had anyone say his name in nearly a year. 

“Names are important on the street. It’s a myth that there’s no honour amongst thieves. Honour and respect is everything to these people.”

San nods, mentally taking notes. They’re working on the Civic because the transmission sounded strange down the highway. San knows a thing or two about engines and apparently, so does the Man.

“Don’t give anyone your real name. Don’t give anyone mine.”

“But I don’t know your name.” San points out. 

“It’s safer for you that way. You’ll earn it when the time comes.” 

Earn what? 

“Do you remember the name of my friend?”

“Yeah.”

Seonghwa. Of course San remembers. It’s a nice name. 

“There’s only two people you can trust with that name. Me and him. Maybe our boss.”

“Who’s that?”

The Man laughs. “You’re definitely not getting that one. But when you meet him, you’ll know. You ever seen a MMA fighter?”

“I think so? Like um, Conor McGregor?” San saw him once on TV, fighting until he was bloodied but victorious.

“Yeah, just picture that in a suit."

“Is he nice?”

The Man snorts. “He’s terrifying. But I guess he can be nice when he wants to be. Just don’t be a brat to him. I mean it.”

It’s not a comforting description. 

“What about your friend? Will I know him when I see him?”

A strange smile spreads across the Man’s face, one that's different to all his other smiles. “Yeah you’ll know him when you see him. He looks like his name. Like a tall model in the most expensive suit.”

“A what?” San doesn't know what to picture in his mind.

“Like those billboards in the city, the black and white perfume ads. That’s what he looks like.”

“Oh…okay.” San nods like he understands but he doesn't. Maybe he should go do some billboard research tonight because he really has no idea what a model killer supposed to look like.

“I want you to be smart and careful about who you trust. You shouldn't even trust me if your gut says otherwise, okay?”

“I can’t trust you?” 

“Not if you think it's wrong. I want you to learn to trust yourself first. It’s an important skill. But you’re already pretty good at it.” The Man says with a relieved sigh, finally finished with the car's wiring. “What does your gut say about me right now?”

“I don’t know.” San shifts uncomfortably, feeling put on the spot. “You’re…okay.”

“I’m okay?” The Man chuckles. “No, report it to me. Like a summary.”

And that just makes San sweat. 

“Well, you’re....not mean to me. You didn’t call the cops. You make sure I’m not in danger. But then you get yourself in danger, which is a kind of stupid. You buy me food and gave me a job. So I guess that makes you okay.”

“That’s a terrible summary of me.” The Man laughs. “But fine, I’ll allow it.”

San shrugs, cheeks blushing for some reason. 

“Oh! I forgot to give you this.”

It’s a card that says 24 hour gym.

San isn’t sure what to do with it, he turns it over in his hand, looking up expectantly for an explanation. 

“It’s a gym membership card. It gets you into Planet Health, that big building two blocks from here.”

“What do I do with it?”

“You go there?” The Man says laughing, “You never been to a gym before?”

San shakes his head. 

“Oh, well you don’t have to use all the equipment but they have showers and you can sleep there for a few hours. It’s better than the streets.”

San nods slowly as his finger traces over the name on the card.

“Who's Kim Juyeon?”

“That’s you. Well, it’s a fake name obviously. Don’t use your real name. Not in the field. Not at work.”

“Hotels and motels need ID. Gyms barely care. But pretend to use the treadmill or something when you go, otherwise it’s just going to look suspicious. You already know about blending in, just do that and you’ll be fine.”

San is still staring at the card. Then he stares at the man. Trying to figure out the maths and motive behind it all. 

“What?”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“I’m employing you, I need you alive to do your job.” The Man says matter-of-factly. 

San nods. Of course. Of course. It’s part of the job because why would anyone just care about him for no reason.

But he doesn’t push his luck by asking more questions. Especially when the hot water pressure at the gym almost makes him cry. He spends twenty minutes in there, washing away years of street grime all at once, watching his old life swirl down the drain and finally emerging like a snake with new skin.

The gym machines are intimidating but he finds a treadmill the next day and walks very very slowly on it. It’s not so bad. 

He sleeps when he can, a few hours here and there. The job is mostly nocturnal so he occupies his daylight hours how he's always done.

The university term has started up again and in the late afternoon San makes his way down to it's big grassy courtyard. He watches other eighteen year olds with their book bags and nice clothes walking to classes and laughing with their friends. He doesn't even have any friends. It’s bittersweet if he’s being honest with himself and he tries not to resent the lives of other people. It doesn’t really work. 

The Man gave him a book to read, something about looking the part and getting some culture. The cover is old and worn and there’s a scrawled PSH on the first page. 

It’s a story of a boy shipwrecked at sea and San struggles through the first chapter, not particularly enjoying himself but he figures he was given this particular book for a reason, and he’ll finish it, even if it kills him. 

The sun is high and warm in the sky as San struggles through chapter two. And that’s when he sees him. 

Or to be more accurate: hears him. 

It’s a shrill cackling laughter, wheezy in parts, not dignified or pretty, but completely joyful. It’s the kind of laughter that could only comes from someone who doesn’t care what other people think of them. 

The sound belongs to a heartstoppingly handsome guy on his phone, talking and laughing animatedly about something to do with avocados, the movement scrunching up his face in a way that shouldn't be attractive at all but just is. His hair is dark and shaggy, half tied back messily, like he did it in a hurry, and he has a distinctly prominent nose that reminds San of someone he’s seen on TV once. 

San can’t look away. And doesn't.

He can’t remember the last time he saw someone so bright like that. He can't remember the last time he ever felt like the world spun around just one person. He wonders if any of this is normal.

The Man who employs him glints cold silver in the way a knife does but the one walking towards him now just shines warm and yellow like the sun. 

The Guy walks past now and heads inside the cafe that San's always been too afraid to go in. Partly because it’s crowded but mostly because they charge five whole dollars for just one small cup of coffee. 

He resigns himself to his coward's fate: parked on grass, reading a book he hates, watching for the guy who shines like the sun every Thursday and never having the guts to following him into the cafe.

Well, things could be worse. 

The courtyard gets busier as the university term progresses and it’s not until one day, when it’s about to rain, that San is finally forced to set foot inside the cafe. 

It’s busy. 

The crowd makes him anxious but he stutters his way through ordering a cup of Earl Grey tea, because it was the cheapest drink on the menu, and finds a poky little table in the corner to sit and wait for the skies to clear. 

He feels normal. Just for a moment. He could pretend to be another university student: he's Kim Juyeon, drinking a cup of tea in a cafe and reading a book about a shipwreck. Nobody would know he’s homeless and has no future. 

Once the rain stops, the crowds disperse quickly, the students probably rushing back to their classes, and with that, the charade is over. San goes back to being a nobody. 

He’s nursing the rest of his tea when there’s a peal of laughter, one that he’d recognise anywhere now. 

The Sun Guy bursts through the cafe doors, says sorry to everyone and no-one in particular, before making his way towards the counter. San watches him order a caramel latte and something called a chocolate eclair, whatever that is.

The Earl Grey in San's cup is gone now and he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to buy another one just to keep sitting there. Are there cafe rules he doesn't know about? He'll need to ask the Man about this later.

But to be sure, to save himself the embarrassed of overstaying his welcome, he reluctantly gets up to leave and tries to discretely catch a glimpse of the Sun Guy on his way out.

It's near the exit when they suddenly lock eyes and San shrinks back like he's been hit with lightning. He has to look away quickly but in the process he nearly brains himself on the door frame and it takes him two attempts to open it before he’s successful. The last thing he remembers is a bright amused smile directed right at him. It might as well have been a shotgun and San has no idea how to respond to that so he doesn’t. 

“What’s with you?” The Man asks when they meet up that night. 

“Nothing.” San grumbles morosely. 

Nothing but total life ending humiliation in front of the most handsome guy on campus.

The Man asks for his report and there’s still no activity at the paint factory but two Maybachs drove past. Nobody got out but the 7-Eleven worker waved to one of the cars. 

"Interesting."

The Man drives him to the gym for his nightly shower, a privilege San still can’t get his head around, and gives him a crash course on gym equipment which he doesn't listen to.

It’s nearly Four PM the next day when San makes his way to the university again. It’s a Thursday, he’s figured out that the Sun Chocolate Guy must have a specific class in the afternoon on a Thursday. 

Sometimes they see each other. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes there’s people with the Guy. Sometimes he’s alone. None of it helps San get over his cowardice. He’s still resigned to just watch from afar, drinking his one cup of tea and reading a book he doesn't even like. 

He’s sitting by the cafe window one week, still cursing himself, when a cup rattles next to him, it's followed by the smell of chocolate. 

There's a presence next to him and with his heart thumping in his throat, San forces himself to look up slowly; his eyes trailing from the loose pants, to the slouchy White t-shirt half tucked in, to the soft light denim jacket. He swallows and steels himself as he reaches a veiny tanned neck, messy black hair and an amused smile. 

When their eyes meet, all he can think about is that he’s never actually had a crush on anyone until now. 

The Guy's lips are moving.

Wait.

"Um, can you repeat that? I missed it." San stammers, bright red and sweaty. 

The Guy smiles kindly. "I asked you if I could sit here?"

"Here?" San blinks at him incredulously. 

"Yeah? That okay?" 

"Oh, um, yeah. That's okay."

"Thanks."

The Guy sits down, taking a sip of coffee and small bite from his chocolate eclair with a satisfied hum. 

San just stares at him like the loser he knows he definitely is. 

"You stare a lot you know.” The Guy says as he observes him with a tilt of his head.

"Sorry." San blushes red again and diverts his gaze to the book the Guy is reading. There’s a lady with a sword on the cover; The Feminism of Joan Of Arc, it reads. 

"I didn't say it was all bad."

The Guy just keeps on reading and sipping his coffee so San figures he should do the same, except he can't even make sense of the words on the page.

“You know, we’re always here on the same days. I figure it's about time we met. Don't you?"

The Guy is still looking at his book but San isn’t sure if he's even reading it or not. 

"Why?"

"What do you mean "why"? Why not?"

"But you're...."

The Joan of Arc book is a snapped closed and those shiny eyes are suddenly on him. It's still feels like lightning. Like the first time it happened.

"I'm what?"

Way out of my league. 

"You look…busy.” San finishes lamely.

The Guy looks at him with a mix of amusement and condescension. 

"You're cute." 

"Huh?" He's staring again. 

"Those eyes are going to get you into trouble one day." The Guy says with a sad chuckle. "What's your name? You have a name right?"

"It's...Juyeon." San says hesitantly, the name sounding so unnatural in his mouth and even worse out loud.  

There's a hand extended across the table and he's suddenly shaking it. 

"I'm Wooyoung. Good to finally meet you."

San is busy cataloging the sensation of The Guy, Wooyoung's, hand when a phone goes off somewhere nearby.

He's still holding on awkwardly when there's a sharp squeeze and tug on his fingers. "Er? I think that's your phone."

Oh. 

The Man gave it to him and truthfully, San is struggling to get used to having one again.

He drops Wooyoung’s hand quickly and digs into his pocket. "Hello?"

"Hey Kiddo, need a favour. Where are you?"

"Out."

"Yeah where? I'll come get you."

“At the cafe."

"I'm 10 minutes away so be out front."

The phone call is short and San hangs up cursing life. The one day this happens and he's gets an actual call in. 

"You need to be somewhere?"

"Yeah. Sorry. It's….work."

"Why are you apologising?!" Wooyoung laughs. “It’s fine."

Reluctantly, San stands to gathers his jacket and brushes the crumbs on the table into his empty cup.

"I'm here every Thursday.” Wooyoung says, it’s quieter, almost shy, if San read that right. 

"I know." 

It escapes from San’s mouth before he can stop it. But instead of teasing him. Wooyoung says nothing. Just gives him a warm knowing smile. 

"Good. So I’ll see you next week?”

"Yeah…sure, Okay, um, I'm going to wait out front for my ride."

In his haste, he rushes out without his jacket and has to go back for it like an idiot. "Forgot this. Um, bye again."

"See you next week." Wooyoung says brightly with a wave.

When in gets in the car he lets out a groan. Why is he always such an idiot at the worst time. 

"What's wrong with you?" The Man asks, eye brow curious and concerned. It's nice that someone is concerned about him. He forgot what that felt like. 

“Nothing.”

“You made a friend?”

San whips his head across. “How do you know that?” He asks defensively.

“Because the cafe has windows?”

"I don't want to talk about it." San flushes and stares out the window. They let the topic go.

The drive to the old paint factory is quiet and they park two blocks away, walking the rest of the way through the back roads. 

“What are we doing here?”

“Just recon stuff, I need you to cover my back okay?”

“From what?” San replies in a panic. He isn’t ready to be promoted to a job like that. “Is someone coming after you?”

“Relax. Nobody is coming. We’re just going to do some walking and some measurements.”

He’s gives instructions to mark walls with glow-in-the dark stickers. And despite asking three times, he doesn’t get any explanations. 

“Geez, slow down. You’re going to choke on that hot dog.” The Man says later, when they're eating at a sleeping diner.

San slows his chewing but it feels like a waste of time. 

“I need to talk to you about something. And after I’m done, you’re not going to repeat it to anyone. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I need you to stay away from the paint factory for the next two weeks. No sneaking to look or anything. If you get caught, you don’t tell anybody you saw me or know me.”

San swallows the last of his hot dog and frowns deeply. This doesn’t good at all. This sounds final. Like another goodbye. 

“Don’t go looking for me.”

“But-“

“Don’t go looking for me.” The Man repeats again firmly. “If I need to find you, I’ll find you. There’s money in that locker at the gym. It’s yours. Use it.”

San’s mind is reeling now and it takes him agonising seconds to put it all together. 

The Man is leaving and it’s somewhere San can’t follow. Something will happen at the paint factory but he doesn’t know when. He’s going to be left alone again. 

“Geez, cheer up,” The Man says, as if he didn’t just drop a depressing bomb in San’s lap. “I’ll be back in a few weeks. You’ll be fine. You’ve survived for two years, just remember everything you’ve learned. And always trust your gut instincts okay? Even if it goes against what I said.”

San nods dutifully, unsure if he should be as sad as he feels. He doesn’t know anything personal about the man next to him but they've spent almost every day together. He doesn't want to admit he's attached to the routine but what else could he call it?

“Okay, I should go. Be good. Stay out of trouble. Remember what I said.”

There’s a squeeze on San’s shoulder and then he’s all alone again. 

****

The normally black night sky is lit up angry orange and smokey. Even a block away San can feel the intensity of it. 

It’s unreal. Like a scene from a horror movie that he can’t quite trick his mind into believing. 

The closer he runs towards the flames, the worse his gut feels. 

It’s the old paint factory. The entire property is on fire. Everything is engulfed in flames, there’s no sirens because the fire must have melted all the cameras and sensors. Across the street, the 7-Eleven is closed. It never closes. 

There’s a small section of side fence that hasn’t caught fire yet and San slips through it, pulling up his shirt to try and stop breathing in all the smoke. He runs to the nearest window where the light is still flickering but he can barely see anything and his eyes both water and burn. 

Then he sees him. The Man, crouched on the floor, next to what looks like a hole in the ground, stuffing files into his bag, seemingly unbothered by the flames creeping closer towards him. 

“What are you doing!! The whole place is on fire!!” San yells out, voice shaky with a fear he hasn't felt in a long time.

The Man whips his head up and San can only see his eyes flashing angrily.

“What the fuck are you doing here! Get out of here before they come!”

The Man forcibly pushes him back out the window with a strength that San didn’t know he had. When he reaches his hand back through the window, it’s gripped still.

“You are leaving right now!”

“But you’re going to die here!” San coughs, tears already tracking down his face. 

“Yeah that’s the point.” The Man says sadly. “Go. Go find him; Seonghwa. You can trust him but only him. Tell him what you saw.”

“But-“

“Just go. Do this for me.” 

The Man lets go of his arm and runs back through the burning building as San sees another group of men chasing him down the corridor. 

A wall collapses and San has to drag himself away. Every step full of dread and feeling wrong.

Climbing on a rooftop, numb and exhausted, all he can do is watch as the whole factory burns to the ground. The big Maybach cars speed off as the police and fire trucks converge on the area. 

And San waits. Half expecting a smiley face to pop up unexpectedly to scold him for crying over someone he barely knows. 

It’s not until nearly dawn, when there are only a handful of officers guarding the ashened property, that San gathers himself to go down there. 

But there’s nothing. 

Every building is flattened and destroyed. There’s no way anyone could’ve survived that. 

In the room where he last saw the Man, the hole in the floor has buried under mountains of debris.  

He knew. The Man knew this was coming. 

There’s quiet voices to his left. And that’s when he hears it. 

“Fuck, get him on the phone, I need to tell him.”

It’s a tall and broad man, imposing in both presence and stature, frowning at the burnt factory. There’s another standing beside him, dark and in glasses, who holds out a phone. 

“You alone? Line clean?”

“Kim’s missing.”

There’s a knowing tone to the way the man says it. A weary sadness. If he was the enemy, the response would’ve been different. 

San’s gut tells him that this must be the boss he was told about. 

He watches the two men for a few more minutes, quietly following them until they reach their car that’s parked a block away. 

It’s the one in glasses that sees him first. 

It all happens faster than San prepared for. The hands that grab him are strong and efficient. He’s shoved against the car in a headlock. 

“Talk.” The boss says, voice deep but calm. “You followed us a whole block.”

He’s bristling with an intensity that San hasn’t felt before. 

Terrifying.

Yes, this must the Boss. 

“I....want to talk...to Seonghwa.”

The man raises his eyebrow in shock and shares a troubled look with the other.

Then it all goes black. 

[tableintheteacherslounge]

Abbott Elementary S03E08 thoughts

Melissa schemmenti angry slut

THIS COLD OPEN I WAS CRYINGGGG

Barb’s protective goggles

“We gonna be down about $700

The squeeze my cheeks kid

Every one getting hit in the damn face

Ava pushing gregory

Greg vs tariq 🥵

Barb shooting in the wrong basket then saying “i’m carrying this team”

Gregory flipping the table

Just PERFECTION

“Why dont u look better” ava really says what i wanna say to people

What IS up with melissa to be snappy, always on her phone, hookups, staying out late

Heyyy manny 🤭 he’s foine I’m SORRY

But if Janine’s meant to be in once a week whys she not seen her abbott friends - not her and jacob not seeing each other 😓

“Girl was there a fire?” See this delivery is why slr has an emmy

Ok I KNEW melissa would hookup with burt hummel. I cant deny the chemistry and at least he’s a better actor than g*ry, but lets keep it casual yeah?

RICHARD TYLER WILLIAMS 💀

The delivery on “interesting 😀”

Tariq hosting the panel?!? I love that for us

Badass janine get it girl! She is ON IT

Not ava and crystal speaking over each other 😭

“I don’t think this is on 🎤 “ “IT IS” ijbol 💀😭

Barb is stroppy and sad ☹️ but why wouldn’t melissa trust her! I get it! But also it’s casual so maybe I get not saying anything too! But barb is so sad (jealous) that melissa didn’t tell her (jealous)

CASUAL GHOST

No bc whys that ur face after ur friend tells u its just sex BARB? I get being upset at not being told but why are u upset its just sex … unless… jealousy

Why arent they clapping abbott 🙁

Why is tariq scoring 😭😭

“Give it some razzle For the love of god gregory give it some dazzle”

Janine just caring about the gossip she’s me

Friend of over 15 years!!! I appreciate the work wives lore but that is literally inaccurate I’m sorry

“Since your lips already touched” GASP (also br*no could never deliver a line like that I’m just saying)

The workwives having a marital spat while ppl are just trying to get their certifications

Is it different? Mmm lowkey bc melissa should know what’s going on in her house but also she can acknowledge that actually barb was validly upset but we know Melissa is stubborn sooo

On her roof? Ew! I dont need to know honestly

Janine not reading Jacob’s text 😖

MANNY CALLING JANINE BIG TEAGUES TEEHEEE 🤭 KICKING FEET TWIRLING HAIR

Gregory sit down 😭 honestly that speech alone could give tyler an emmy nom

MR BOHNSON FROM BABBOTT BELEMENTARY HELP

“You talked to me about gary” aww 🥺☹️

“Because that was a real relationship that YOU approved of” ok poignant emphasis on you - Barbara’s opinion is so important to her 🥺 that’s her number 1

“Awwwmygod congrats” “thank you baby”

Melissa’s true apology 🥺

MELISSA DRAGGING BARB CLOSER TO HER EVEN THO BARB WAS STILL MAD i feel like that was lisa and sheryl

“Look how coy this boy is” jacob always gets great ppl as love interests bc first zach and now i love this guy too “i even showed captain robinson” aw 🙁

Janine aced it! Quintas physical comedy is soo good

Wait is mr j wearing a jacket over his uniform 😭

Cancelling on the fireman for barb 🥺

I fear burt hummel doesn’t want it as casual as mel

“Ok did he just make me fall in love with him” 😭

BI AVA BI AVA!! Wbk but BI AVA (but yk im a hardcore barlissa truther so shipping them w ava makes me gag)

MR JOHNSON PANEL beep beep beep that to my face!!!

Wish they ended on barlissa at the bar tho :(

Ok overall I honestly didnt love that ep at first

And the big reason is i didnt think the panel needed so much and i wanted barlissa to have more

Their conflict didn’t feel as real and earnest as other examples

It got wrapped up surprisingly quickly - they fell out more over safety scissors and ‘yous’

And I’d’ve liked them to share a vulnerable moment away fro everyone else.

It just felt eh

Also being away from school felt weird too

Based on teaser clips i thought it could be a lisa emmy consideration ep but no - could be for tyler though

Barbara’s jealousy is v v interesting tho 👀

After a few days I like it more

I still feel a bit confused tho

OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO MENTION KEEGAN MICHAEL KEY HELLO??!?? What a guest actor to get oh my god

[astranauticus]

post mortem for my orv animatic bc i have lots of thoughts and yall are gonna hear all of them (that is a threat)

first is the obligatory special thanks/plagiarism declaration section but a lot of the shots in this are inspired by the original changgwi lyric video which like. please watch it there's a reason this song is a classic animatic song on bilibili like the music is good but the video definitely helped. also speaking of bilibili, special shoutout to this arknights chongyue animatic that introduced me to the song that will haunt the next 8 months of my life!

the original inspiration was the thought that the verse of the spirit telling the story of its own death felt very yjh coded but it took like another week of stewing on it to have the idea of using the final chorus for the dkos arc which was the moment i decided i have to actually make this thing

going strictly by when i started putting pen to paper (pencil to ipad screen? whatever) this took almost exactly 5 months since i created the first drafts in february but the first 3 months ish from february until may were also my school semester so. most of the progress (id say about >60%) was done in the last two months of me working on this every moment i wasnt at work (or playing project sekai, for some reason)

also! funny little detail but counting the drafts and some discarded frames my procreate stack for this thing has exactly 49 artworks in it! neat little easter egg i guess (yeah 51 wouldve been more fitting but whatever)

this fully slipped by both me (at 2am) and my friend whom i sent the finished version to (fighting the flu) but in the final edit i didn't actually include the second half of the last lyric?? it's 'i will take you to the mountain god' i apparently just wrote 'i will take you' and never finished the rest LMAO

speaking of the lyrics i dont speak korean and im not a huge fan of most english translations of this song that exists so on multiple occasions i was so tempted to just use the chinese cover someone on bilibili did because then i'd at least be confident i know where the fucking line breaks were (there's one line at the end where im pretty sure i didn't edit on the line breaks correctly but that was more of an intentional compromise because the timings would've been off otherwise. anyway) tbh the only reason i didnt do that is the atmosphere and delivery of the original song is. really unbeatable like the cover's also pretty good but it doesn't quite achieve the same effect

also speaking of things i fucked up im aware i drew sys in the wrong outfit for the dkos fight but like. ok full disclosure my orv reference folder is a complete mess (theres like 400+ images in there. for some reason) so on net ive gotten character outfits wrong while working on this thing like at least 3 times bc id just grab a random webtoon screenshot from my folder and go w it. it's just that by the time i realised i fucked up i'd already finished drawing all of sys's frames and i was too lazy to go back and change all of them LMAO

anyway yeah some other random things i wanted to whinge about:

there's a lot of effects i wanted to do that didn't quite come across due to. lack of skill/time/patience/all of the above but the one im really annoyed about is the yhk postchorus bit with the 3 circles bc. first off i think i drew those while halfway dozing off on the train to school once because uh. yeah

anyway poor drawing aside id really wanted to recreate the sort of. drawn-in effect on the circles and lines that the original lyric video had but i could NOT for the life of me figure out a way to execute that in capcut so. here we are (also you cant put transitions on overlays in capcut so that's why those also looked so bad. youre welcome)

honestly my timeline for this in capcut looks pretty ridiculous bc if you want to do word by word animations/effects you need to pay for the pro version so my workaround was just to have like five thousand text layers with 1-2 words on it each (do not recommend btw)

speaking of the text im a moron so i kinda forgot to account for the text when drawing frames and wow you can tell. yeah next time im just hand writing the text fuck this

and i have some more thoughts that are. mild to moderate webtoon spoilers so past this will be the spoiler warning line

__________________________________________________________

actually my original plan was to upload this the day dkos dies in the webtoon but a. i genuinely did think it was gonna be yesterday like i dont pay for the early access episodes so i was just kinda going off orvtwt LMAO b. i could feel myself burning out on this like the last few frames i drew for this were fucking dogshit so i figured either i finish it soon or i wont finish it at all

i will probably still draw something for dkos' death day though for those who celebrate (basically when i was thumbnailing for one of the frames in this i ended up with one that didnt fit the video aspect ratio at all but still looks pretty good so im promoting it to a full drawing. so look forward to that)

like for an idea of how fucking sick of this shit i was by like. last week pretty much like for the last few frames of the dkos fight i straight up forgot to draw dkos' wings and had to add them in halfway through editing last night. like that's how fucking out of it i was by then lmaoo

looking back its actually kinda funny cuz the whole put this up when dkos dies thing was my plan since february but i had literally no way of knowing when that would be especially since the webtoon stopped going with the novel chapter numbers exactly (i could.. guesstimate but my original estimation was in june so yknow. real useful) but like i can find evidence of me panicking about that deadline since may. why did i do that

given that deadline i knew i cant really include stuff from the novel past the dkos arc but man. the amount of times i wanted to use something from later (ESPECIALLY 1863 arc). i actually have another idea i want to test out thats like full epilogue spoilers partially because working on this for so long made me realise i really want to make more epilogue content <- what

yknow how i mentioned discarded frames yeah i had to draw dkos' death 3 times because the first two compositions just never quite panned out. i mean the current one is also pretty unreadable with the colour scheme but trust me the previous ones were way worse christ alive

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Syndicate

MASTERLIST

Ted Lasso/Rebecca Welton, fluff & romance. S3 departure after the Amsterdam episode.

Prompt: All of AFC Richmond is shipping Ted & Rebecca ... before there’s even anything to ship yet.

~~~~~~~~~

April 2022

It's a habit by now. Every Friday, Will comes around and collects the subs, and Leslie maintains the book. It's been a while since anything new was added apart from people moving their dates. The book has claimed many wishful thinkers, many die-hard romantics, and even Roy. Once a week, Leslie sits with the book and checks for missed dates or special bets, which are certain not to happen, and he draws a neat pencil line through them. For over two years, he's kept this book going. It's looking pretty battered and bruised. The glitter Keeley had added has faded and mostly been rubbed off. The tin (more of a small safe now) sits and grows fatter and fatter, its winnings unclaimed. Everyone has had to review their timings at least once, even Beard. Some have added new dates three or four times. The lure of super weird, obscure, or just obscene bets has passed. Only a few of those remain. Leslie is pleased to be getting out the book this week - he gets to add Nate back into the fold. 

January 2020

Leslie Higgins watched another morning biscuit delivery arrive and braced for impact. Rebecca hated this biscuits with the Boss situation. She hated Ted Lasso, Leslie could see it in her eyes. He knew it well, she hated him with the same intensity. She was ferocious and venomous, but with one bite of those buttery biscuits each morning, she was a new woman. It was a week or so before the Gala, roughly a month into Ted's tenure, that Leslie first took note that Rebecca’s demeanour was beginning to… change (he absolutely daren’t say soften). He popped down to the stationary cupboard and got out a new A4 lined notebook. Innocent enough. He stole back up his office and opened up the fresh, crisp book. The Syndicate he wrote in the top centre of the first page. He got out a ruler and carefully drew a sharp pencil line all the way down the page on the left-hand side, leaving enough space for names. He added another two lines down the page. Then, he added the headers: name, date, description, and amount. He wrote his own name on the first line, along with the date. Under description, he wrote January 2021, and then in the amount column, he put £5.00. Then he put the book in his bottom desk drawer, under a stack of financial papers and a crisp £5 note in an old empty metal tin, and then he tried to forget about both items.  

Keeley wasn't quite sure what prompted it initially, but around the Gala and bonding with Rebecca, something started changing. She noticed Leslie watching Rebecca rather intently, and that makes her watch Leslie more intently. At first, she thinks the worst. Has Leslie truly got a crush on Rebecca? Impossible! Then, when she meets Julie, she's convinced that she got the wrong end of the stick. With 5 kids and a 30-year marriage, the Higgins' couldn't be more in love. He definitely doesn't have a crush. She leaves the odd thoughts to marinade in her mind, the Jamie situation weighing more heavily. When Rebecca offers her a job and a chance to deepen their friendship, Keeley grabs it with both hands.

"I saw Rupert in the pub the other day." Rebecca states over a cup of tea while they're sorting out Keeley’s contract.

"How did it go?" Leslie asks before Keeley can. 

"He challenged Ted to a darts game. Ted said that if he won, Rupert could choose the team for the next matches, but if he lost, he could never come to the owner's box again while I'm in charge." Leslie's cup practically vibrates off the saucer, Keeley frowns at the sound.

"And?"

"Ted won! It was wonderful!"

"Hmmm. Interesting." Leslie says into his teacup.

"Well, at least you won't have him creeping up on you for a bit!" Keeley says brightly. It's not until she and Leslie leave Rebecca to her afternoon meetings that Keeley has the chance to be alone with him. She follows him to his office, "Whatever you've got going on, I want in." She tells him, staring him down. Leslie lets out a strange choked sound. 

"I… I… don't know what you're talking about." He stutters. Keeley arches an eyebrow. 

"Alright, fine. There's a weekly Syndicate running on Rebecca and Ted. £5 a week for any date of your choosing plus specials if there's anything in particular you want to add." 

"Who else is in?"

"Coach Beard. Nate. Me. That's it for now."

"Beard? Interesting. Put me in, and I'll have a special as well, I'll go for…" She taps her finger to her lips, "March 2021. I give it a year. And my special is… he goes first, but she goes hard."

"Bold, I like it."

"What did the others go for?" She asks, looking over his shoulder as he digs the book out from its hiding place. 

"Beard has gone for the end of next season - May 2021. Nate has gone early  - this Christmas coming, December 2020."

"Big range of dates there. Any specials?"

"Nothing wild, Beard put in £200 that we'll all find out from a paparazzi shot rather than from them."

"Fair. Could happen, for sure."

"Nate's special is that it first happens in the boot room."

"Eww. Smelly."

"Quite."

"Bet I can get us some more interested parties…" Keeley muses. 

"As long as we keep it quiet."

"Quiet is… not my middle name, but I'll do my best!" 

The next time Leslie gets the book out, it's been Keeley-fied. His hands come away covered in glitter, and there are feathers stuck to the front of the book. He's got three names to add - Bumbercatch, Isaac, and Mae from the pub have all collared him. He's going to need help with collecting the subs each week at this rate. He adds the dates they've requested from where he'd scribbled them on a post-it note and puts their £15 total into the kitty. 

May 2020

In April, he quits and leaves the book with Keeley. When he returns over a month later, just about the whole team has been added to the book, and Will has been appointed Debt Collector. Over the course of the next 7 months, every member of the club staff and team are in. Except Ted and Rebecca. The specials list has grown a little wild, and Leslie is not quite sure how he'd pay those out should any of them come true. There's well in excess of £10k in the tin. He's had to upgrade to a small safe. Every Friday, Will arrives with the weekly subs. They're easily putting in £250 a week - across 50 people, not including special bets. He's amazed that none of it has reached Rebecca and Ted yet. It's shortly after the first Truthbomb that Rebecca first approaches Keeley.

"So now that we're all good again…" She begins hopefully,

"Uhuh?" Keeley looks up from her phone. She's been propping Roy up on the decisions regarding his future. 

"What's the Syndicate?" Rebecca whispered. Keeley drops the phone. 

"Umm, I don't know? What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure. I've heard lots of people talking about it for ages now. It's not a cult, is it? Or do we have another curse?" Keeley's eyes are like saucers. 

"Noooo! Of course we don't have another curse. And I'm fairly sure we're not home to a cult either." She sips her tea. "But I've no idea what the Syndicate is." She lies.

December 2020

Nate is the first to fall. His eager date passes with no results. Unperturbed, he re-adds his name to the bottom of the list with a new date: April 2021. Nate's date did hold a lot of promise though - seeing Ted and Rebecca turn up on Leslie's doorstep singing Christmas songs evoked a flurry of bets and an optimism which carried them all through till the spring.

2021

If Sassy was a spanner in the works, Sam is the fly in the ointment. Keeley was beside herself with the knowledge that Rebecca had been sleeping with him. He'd been putting into the Syndicate! He'd chosen a date of late summer 2021, with a special bet stating that it would happen when Ted returned from his summer break in Kansas! The ending of the relationship, the second Truthbomb, and the promotion back into the Premier League led to a new outpouring of bets, which by summer had fizzled out again, and poor Sam had his date crossed out. He went for December 2021 for his next turn. 

With Ted's return from his summer break, he paid his usual visit to Rebecca - with biscuits.

"Hey boss, what's a Syndicate?" Rebecca froze with a biscuit halfway to her mouth. 

"It's ummm…  well t's a… umm… Oh Ted, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, I think it's like a lottery? So the more people who put into it, the better chance there is of winning."

"So it's just a lottery? The guys downstairs  are all just playing the lottery? They're millionaires. That don't seem quite right, Betty White."

"Maybe it's the thrill of the gamble?"

"I ain't an expert, boss, but wouldn't they be better goin' for horses? Or poker?" Rebecca shrugged. 

"Oohh! Maybe it's a team specific thing? Maybe they're betting on how the club will do next season?" She tapped the newspaper, one of the many which had them estimated to finish the season last in the table. 

"Hmmm, nah. I just had to take them to the sewer to get them to believe in us."

"You don't think? How many we'll win? Or score?" She suggests. Ted leans forwards, elbows on knees to get closer,

"Y'know, I heard somethin' about specials?" He says quietly. Rebecca gasped.

"Maybe they mean hat tricks or Jamie's hair changes?" She muses. He points excitedly, 

"Yeah! Yeah, yeah, boss! You got it!"

"We should tell them we want in."

"We should tell them we want in."

"Cos we're going to win the whole thing, Ted."

"We're gonna win the whole fucking thing. We are. And we want in on that Syndicate."

"Yes we fucking do." Once Trent has been sent off down to the locker room and Rebecca and Ted are alone with Leslie, they tag team him. 

"Put us down Higgy, we want in." Ted said solemnly. 

"You… what?!"

"We know about the Syndicate, Leslie. We want in." Rebecca said.

"You know about the Syndicate?"

"Yes, how many games we'll win, how many goals-"

"Where we'll finish, how many hairbands Jamie will get through?"

"And we want in. What is it, a fiver?" Leslie nods, dumbfounded. Ted hands him a ten pound note. 

"The boss don't carry cash so I'll get this week for us both."

"Thanks Ted. I'll get you back next week."

And so began the regular pattern of Ted usually adding in an extra fiver to cover Rebecca on the weeks she didn't have any cash, and vice versa. 

"Uhh what date did you want?"

"Date? Oh, the date we'll win the league?" Rebecca questioned. "I think I'll go for the last game of the season, is that still available?" Leslie nodded, still unable to find his voice.

"I'll go for the day before. We play our game on the Sunday but if other results go our way then we could win the day before?" Rebecca points, copying Ted's move from earlier.

"Ooh that's a good shout, Ted. Between us, we've got this."

"We sure do Doctor Who, high five!" They clash palms excitedly. 

"Yep, I think you're pretty well covered between you." Leslie agrees.

2022

The book had just dragged on into another year when Leslie once again noticed the shift between Rebecca and Ted. They'd seemingly gotten into a holding pattern based purely on friendship until the Amsterdam trip. The return journey had come to life with song after song led from the back of the bus. The smile had lit up Ted's eyes when Rebecca apologised for missing his messages. It had ignited something in their friendship which had them teetering on the edge and thus had the team in a similar way. 

"I want £200 on next weekend." Isaac slammed the cash onto Leslie's desk. 

"Is that in addition to your existing date or did you want to bring that forward?"

"Addition, I'm keepin' my date as a backup. No one's takin' that from me." Isaac said adamantly. A couple of days later, Jamie put down £500 on Ted falling hard for Rebecca during Henry’s visit. When Beard showed up the morning after he'd been in the pub with Ted and Henry, he was buzzing with excitement. 

"It was poetry, it's a sign! She called him right as the busker sang 'remember to let her into your heart'. It's gonna happen soon, man. I know it." He slapped £250 into the safe. "My bet is that Rebecca is already there."

"Coach, how exactly do you expect me to pay out for that? I'm not a mind reader?!"

"We can ask her afterwards."

"Afterwards," Leslie tsked and shook his head, "we'll see."

"I've got a plan for Manchester, my friend."

"No influencing the result! I've already had to ban Roy from bullying Ted into telling her."

"Ted's not there yet, man. Rebecca is. Hang on," he put down another £50, "Rebecca goes first but Ted goes hard."

"That's funny, Keeley had it the other way round 2 years ago."

"Long time ago, they've both changed."

"They have indeed. OK Coach, I'll allow it." Leslie added the lines to the book. 

April 2022

In Manchester, Keeley joins Trent at the hotel bar before movie night. 

"I ship them so hard, Trent. I'm fully invested."

"They're so easy to ship together, it's so obvious. There's talk in the locker room that Rebecca’s already there - care to comment?"

"Not sure about that, but I do think she's closer than Ted. Plus his mum turning up might have fucked things for the people who'd bet on this weekend."

"I know, talk about a cock block."

"Trent Crimm, I'm guessing you put this weekend?! You're so right, she is! Anyway, I heard that Beard has chosen a romcom for tonight. I'll ply Rebecca with some wine, Ted can do the whole 'just stretching my arm' bullshit and before you know it, the hotel room is a-rockin! I'll get you your win, babe!" They clinked their glasses together. 

Rebecca passed by the stained glass panel unnoticed, hovering just the other side until the glasses clinked and Keeley's giggles ran out around the bar. She joined them a few minutes later in the small function room they'd converted into a cinema, smiling at Ted. She needed to speak to him quickly. She cried at the end of the movie, she always did. Ted had covered her hand with his and given it a gentle squeeze. Once everyone had dispersed, she crept along the hotel corridor to his room and knocked gently on the door. It had been just over 2 years to the day since he'd desperately hoped it was Rebecca at his hotel door in Liverpool. He sure as hell hadn't been expecting her in Manchester. Fresh from the shower, he looked stressed and tired. She smiled apologetically. 

"May I come in?" He held the door open and stood to one side. "I overheard something this evening."

"Was it Colin and Isaac? Cos I heard them too."

"No, Keeley and Trent. Why, what did you hear?" Ted hesitated, gesturing to the chair across from the end of the bed. 

"They were talkin' about ships, and bets? I wasn't really listenin' so I'm not really sure-"

"Keeley and Trent were on about the same thing."

"Huh. Weird."

"Weird. What do you think it means? What did they say?" She pushed for more information, suspecting that she had the upper hand in terms of knowledge gained. 

"Colin was excited that he might win this weekend? But I don't see how, we can't win the league tomorrow."

"Ted. I don't think it's about the league."

"Well, what the heck else are we paying for each week?" Rebecca blushed. 

"I think… I think they're betting on… us." She said weakly. 

"Us? What the-, I'll go and put them so right on this, boss. That just ain't fair on you. I'll put a stop to this right now," he reached for his phone to call Beard and rally the team. She put her hand over the screen, 

"Jesus christ, they were right." She whispered. 

"Who? About what?" She can't help but stare, his hair falling onto his forehead, "Rebecca?" He all but murmurs. It's the first time she's heard him say her name like that, so softly, intimately. It sends a shockwave of heat through her body. 

"I've gone first. How did I not notice?"

"You've gone where first? Forgive me, Rebecca but I'm lost here."

"Nevermind, Ted. We'll talk about it another time. You should get some rest before the match. Big day tomorrow." She can't resist pushing his hair back, her hand moves entirely of its own accord. "Goodnight, Ted." She leaves the room, leaves him lost to his own thoughts.

The 3 hour drive back from Manchester the next day is wild. There's booze from somewhere and they all seem to fall out of the bus and into the club where they party happily together. Ted excuses himself, and while Rebecca is desperate to follow, she knows he needs to confront his mother alone. They'd spent much of the journey home unpacking Ted's thoughts on her arrival and interference. It's not until his final 'fuck you' to his mother that he sits and re-evaluates his situation. While he does so, he receives a message from Rebecca. 

You are loved here Ted, so loved. I hope you know that. 💜 It helps him decide what he wants to do next. He's not really surprised to see her the following morning. It’s early, but he knows the date and assumes that she does too. 

"Sorry Ted, I don't have one for you." He can see that it's not the whole truth, she's looking slightly off eye contact - barely noticeable.

"That's OK, I've got one." He can see the tension in her shoulders, the anxious clench of her fists. "I'm gonna stay. If you'll have me, once the season is over." If the relieved breath she lets out didn't knock him over, the force of her hug nearly does. Her hands are tight around him, clinging to him and the shake of her shoulders is a dead giveaway that she's crying. 

"Oh thank god for that, Ted. Thank fuck for that."

"I mean, I need more time with Henry, I want him to come here more and I need to spend the summer working that out with Michelle. But I ain't ready to give this up either." His words in her ear send a shiver through her and she leans further into him, burying her nose into his neck. When she speaks, her lips brush against his skin. 

"Whatever you need, whatever I can do, Ted. I'll do it." And suddenly, there it is. Oh. He feels everything all at once, all night he hadn’t been able to put a finger on why he needed to stay. Yes, the team and yes, winning the whole fucking thing but nothing seemed quite enough. There was something missing and he hadn't worked out what until it was in his arms, clinging to him. Until she was in his arms. She's why he needs to stay. 

"You sure you ain't got nothin' for me, Rebecca?" He asks. She lets go of him enough to look at him, glancing at his mouth. 

"The Syndicate is about us. The whole club are betting on us. Not whether we'll get together - they're way past that, they're on about when, how. There's not a single person in this whole place that doesn't think that we'll end up together."

"Does that include you? You said the whole place?" She flusters slightly before nodding. "They're saying that I'm already there."

"That so? Any insights on what they're sayin' 'bout me?"

"That you're not ready yet?" Her voice drops to a nervous whisper.

"Don't you wanna be the one to ask that  question?"

"Are you there yet, Ted?"

"Yeah I am, you helped catch me up." He smiles broadly and leans in to capture her lips in all fierce kiss. His arms tight around her waist mean she barely notices when her knees buckle. 

"I won." A voice behind Ted mumbles. "I WON, I fucking won! I said today - I knew it would be today!" Will throws the training shirts into the air and runs past them through Roy's office door and into the corridor. "I WON!"

"How much you think we just helped him win?"

"An absolute fortune if it's been going on as long as I think it has. Maybe around 30 grand?"

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Well, I appreciate you didn't hurry, Ted. And so does Will."

~~~~~~~~~

[ramblingdisaster73]

Thoughts while rewatching 4x01 - 4x04 -

Episode 4x03 - this does include thoughts that span the whole arc - so spoilers ahead.

I won’t believe O’Brien is a good guy until the end of this never-ending Owen storyline

I still feel like there is something weird with him

Also – Judd got a “cool new nick name” before Owen did – unless you count O’Brien calling him “O”

Not a fan of the detective – that feeling dramatically increases as the arc continues

Let’s just blame the mental illness for why the woman disappeared WHILE WORKING – gee, I wonder why her purse & shit were in the car.

The more the detective talks – the more I can’t stand her

But, I do have to credit this fictitious APD – both detectives in Missing persons are women & not just that, but women of color – working in a field where people that look like them are often overlooked.

Carlos, I am sorry – but you are the cause of TK going to see Iris – you are the one that put yourself & TK on an impossible time frame – then you just expect him to sit back and roll over – fuck that. Just the only way they had to blame TK for something – while completely absolving Carlos of responsibility in the situation – when the reason they are in this is HIM, not TK.

Fans would be bending over backward and celebrating if this storyline were about TK being secretly married – saying how much he never deserved Carlos, that Carlos was too good for him, they would never forgive a lie like that. BUT, when it is Carlos – its all cool and totally TK’s fault.

The cliff rescue was hilarious & tragic

– the way Carlos (& the fandom) treats TK is the tragic part – once again if the roles were reversed people would be coming for TK’s head, but since it is Carlos being a dick, its all cool and totally TK’s fault.

The hilarious was obviously Nancy’s valiant effort to save the sex doll, Judd’s “It’s serious then” said so matter-of-factly, and Mateo’s “It’s time.” – the 126 scenes are so fun, or at least fun to see.

Every time the Owen storyline progresses – he looks more stupid –

I like how calm Grace is on calls, but how much she actually thinks outside of the box to help people

I have met 911 dispatchers that she reminds me of, and I respect them so much for the challenges they deal with in each call – the times that they aren’t able to help their caller, can only be with them through the phone in their final moments.

I like how they show the way that Iris made moves to save herself – calling even though she was terrified, Counting the minutes as they passed – then being able to give that info to the dispatchers – she was a big part in saving herself.

Let’s just assume the lady that has schizophrenia was in her own delusions about being kidnapped – lets not do any forensic investigation – lets not listen to the victim, simply because she has an illness that causes paranoid delusions – like at least fucking look into it.

Fuck this detective – like all the fucking way

Owen, just going around taking evidence from the FBI, handing it over to his new bff. – fucking moron

I get that his heart is in the right place – but, seriously does this man only operate on a quarter of a braincell?

Lyndsy & Rafa are spectacular in the hospital scenes

Iris is clear in her information, just tells Carlos and the Detective what she went through – only one of them believes her – then hopefully never to be seen again after 4x04 detective makes Carlos doubt Iris, not for long, but I think that leads to his NEED to solve whether or not this was real, needs to show Iris that he believes her.

When she said that he looked at her like a painting – still gives me chills – I have felt that look before, it is fucking creepy as shit.

The roadhouse scene – I mean watching Owen lose at something & lose a bunch of money was nice

That dude has an insanely high alcohol tolerance

That dude is also incredibly dumb. But “Todays a day of the week” was a funny line – especially with the delivery.

Owen “Crackshot” Strand – guess he had to give himself a cool new nickname

I wish we had gotten to see the whole TK & Tommy scene

Their shifts are so confusing – they work 24-hour shifts, but are frequently at home or somewhere other than the firehouse when they should be at work. I guess it is safe for me to just make up the head cannon that they only work 12-hour shifts – the time is just whatever is convenient for the plot.

I don’t like that woman either, Iris. Pretty sure not too many people do at this point.

Carlos looks so sad when he tells her that the phone didn’t have anything & then he asked her if it could be her delusions.

Her doubting herself is so awful, but so well played

Her telling him that she could still smell him, that he had the scent of a floral detergent, was something I felt.

I love the way she explains how only one little crack of doubt can make it all spiral – the beauty of this scene will always astound me

12345 – Seriously?

Then to use the same one another lock – that just screams of set up or that the members are to dumb to remember 5 non-concurrent numbers.

I do kinda like Turner’s belt buckle though

Still doesn’t make sense on how they knew to move all that shit so quickly if O’Brien didn’t give them the info – the other dude was passed the fuck out

Owen and his movie hero training – Stakeout knowledge was from a movie – Spy/Parking garage knowledge was from a movie

I understand the FBI agent’s frustration at Owen’s completely moronic actions – he is making dumb fucking decisions – yet they keep using him – I guess that is their own fault when he fucks it up for them

Still that small gap between TK’s “I love you” & Carlos’ “love you too” was so sad, even though we know he says it.

Dumb cop move 1: lie to your fiancé about where you are staying before going to the house your wife was held in

Dumb cop move 2: go in the house at night without telling anyone where you really were

Dumb cop move 3: going into the tunnel & continuing down it – without calling for backup/letting anyone know where he is

Dumb cop move 4: go through the floor at the end of the tunnel without calling for backup/letting anyone know where he was.

And the shovel – she had a good amount of force to her swing.

[starseedfxofficial]

Crude Takes a Breather, Gold Finds its Groove, and Copper Eyes China The Ripple Effect: Digging Beneath the Surface of Today's Market Trends Picture this: you're ready to score a sweet Forex deal—like finally finding that perfect-sized pair of shoes on sale—only to have the market pull the rug out from under you. Crude prices dipped just a bit today, showing a "meh" response to OPEC+'s rollercoaster updates. Imagine it like the market on a caffeine crash—just waiting for a burst of excitement that might come with U.S. jobs numbers. Traders are still glued to their newsfeeds for any geopolitical drama that might breathe some life back into the action. Now, if you've been eyeing the shiny stuff (that's gold, for the uninitiated), you may have noticed it's nudging higher today. Spot gold's hanging out in the USD 2,613-2,645 range, teasing its way just above yesterday's dip, like an old friend that's finally ready to be on good terms again. It's wedged between the 50-day and 100-day moving averages, trying to decide if it wants to make a real run for it or just coast along—the classic "to commit or not to commit" dance. Gold's upward bias feels like it could be a foreshadowing of something a little shinier, but then again, we don't have a crystal ball (at least not a reliable one). Copper: The Smooth Operator Ah, copper—the quiet, steady operator of the commodities market. While everyone's shouting about oil and gold, copper's over here just doing its thing, inching up ahead of the U.S. jobs report. Traders are also keenly watching the upcoming Chinese Central Economic Work Conference. Here's the scoop: if China talks about boosting domestic demand, copper could be the star. It's like copper has its own internal PR agent working overtime. Add in the possibility of China tossing some love towards the property market, and this could be the boost copper's been waiting for—like getting picked first in a dodgeball game for once. Oil Markets: The Tightrope Act Continues Oil's story has been a bit like a Netflix drama with way too many plot twists—OPEC+, production cuts, Morgan Stanley throwing a curveball. Speaking of Morgan Stanley, they've taken a look at their magic 8-ball and nudged their forecast for H2 2025 Brent prices up to USD 70/bbl from the previous USD 66-68. Why? Because OPEC+ decided to tighten production, narrowing the margin between supply and demand. Think of it like trying to keep your favorite restaurant reservation list tight: not too many guests, just enough to keep it exclusive but still happening. Still, MS thinks we’ll see a surplus—just a bit smaller than the one we had in mind. Oh, and by the way, the Czech Republic is back in the game. Oil supplies via Druzbha have resumed today—as per Orlen CEO. It's like your favorite pizza delivery chain going back online after a hiccup. Everyone's pretty pleased, especially those who were anxiously waiting with their fingers crossed. Why It All Matters for You Now, you might be asking, "How does any of this noise help me hit a home run in my trading strategy?" Here's where the hidden gems come in. With Morgan Stanley's revised Brent forecast, we're looking at smaller supply gluts in the near future. What does that mean for you? Watch out for smaller-than-expected dips in oil-related currencies and commodities. The market is telling you something—you just need to know how to listen. Gold's position between key moving averages is also a signal. The savvy trader watches for a breakout—the classic "if it goes up, I buy, if it goes down, I also buy but smarter." And copper? Consider it your early bird signal for any surprise announcements out of China next week. When the rest of the market catches up, you'll already have your stakes down. Bottom Line: Opportunity is Hiding in Plain Sight Remember, every market move tells a story, and the real opportunity lies in reading between the lines. Today’s seemingly lackluster moves in crude, gold, and copper are all subtly whispering clues about tomorrow’s actions. So, let’s grab those nuggets of truth, give them a good polish, and trade smart. Ready to learn more? Check out our services to keep your edge: - Latest Economic Indicators and Forex News: StarseedFX News - Expand your Forex expertise with our free courses: Forex Education - Want to hang out with the best? Join our community: StarseedFX Membership Let’s keep digging beneath the surface—there are always hidden treasures waiting for those willing to look. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated   Read the full article

[nickgerlich]

Food For Thought

It’s a familiar refrain in my blogs, one my students will pick up on after a few weeks of reading. To know me is to know I am a storyteller. I love to hark back to my wonder years and spin yarns about how life was like back in the good old days.

So without any further ado, I’ll start today’s blog with my favorite opening phrase: “I remember when…”

Oh yes, I remember. The late-1970s and early-1980s were tough economically. If you think inflation is bad now, ask your parents and grandparents what it was like then. And if you think that getting a mortgage today is simply out of the question, ask them about that too. Why? Because both inflation and mortgage rates were double-digit. It took a long time for everything to settle down. Heck, I bought my house in 1989 at 9%, and I thought that was a good deal.

Can you imagine the political football that would have been in last night’s Presidential Debate?

Anyway, back to the story. I was finishing up my undergrad degree, and moving to Indiana University in Bloomington to start grad school. My buddy and I had an apartment, so there was no cafeteria at which we could seek culinary refuge. We were on our own. And buying groceries was a tough proposition.

Things were so bad that manufacturers launched what was known as generics, food products in bland packaging without any kind of branding whatsoever. They were much cheaper than the nationally-branded products, as well as the private label products many large retail chains offered. The food was good, even if we were getting all of the irregulars, like the oddly-shaped peach halves, beans, and other canned items.

There was a stigma attached to buying those plain white or yellow cans with the black stripe. Your shopping cart may as well been screaming “I’m poor! I’m poor!” Generics became the butt of jokes back then, and at the expense of the people who needed them the most.

Once the economy recovered, generics went away, leaving us with national and private brands, with the latter recently coming into prominence once again during the current round of inflation. Walmart and Target have doubled down on their private label brands, launching several successful lines. Chains like Aldi and Trader Joe’s are about 85% private label.

And now Amazon has joined the fray. While they have also had private label goods in both their food and non-food products, they announced the arrival of a new line of even cheaper private label foods, Amazon Saver. One look at the packaging and I was transported back in time 40 years to generics, because these very closely resemble them, aside from the subtle Amazon branding at the top of the label.

In other words, these are “almost generic,” and positioned to appeal to the most cash-strapped customers. They will be available in Amazon’s small but growing number of grocery stores, as well as online. Most items come in under $5. Of course, only dry goods can be shipped, although if you live within range of their store, home delivery can be arranged for everything in the new line.

Amazon’s entrant signals their longstanding desire to break into the grocery business in a big way, something it has had limited success with so far, aside from its Whole Foods division. Groceries are an evergreen category, meaning that we buy them year-round. While margins in the food biz are low (think 20-22% gross profit on products, and 1-2% net profit at the store level), volume makes up for it. We have to eat.

These new items have to be good, though, or at least good enough to pass consumer muster. Consumers might be willing to sacrifice a little, but not a lot. After all, what we put in our mouth is of high importance.

As with private labels, Amazon must contract with food manufacturers to purchase their unused capacity. While there are some food companies that produce only private labels, the majority of the private labels (and the generics of yore) are from very familiar companies who find it in their best interests to utilize their capacity, even if it effectively means they are creating their own competition.

Still, the stark, blunt wording on the packaging reminds me of the generic days during grad school. “Pancake Syrup,” “Sweet Peas,” and so forth merely tell us what’s inside. Marketing hyperbole is kept to a minimum, with only the Amazon Saver micro-branding visible. That’s another way of saying they didn’t waste any money hiring graphic designers to craft fancy logos, characters, and so forth. Just the food, ma’am.

One other thing to consider: For those who don’t have an Amazon Fresh store near them, online ordering is the only other option. But the poorest among us are also the least likely to shop online, because that requires credit and debit cards. While Amazon has ventured into accepting state- and federal assistance payments for food, it’s a clunky proposition. Thus, the new line will likely appeal most to those a little less stressed financially, like the middle class.

The bottom line, though, is that this is a solid move by Amazon, and even if inflation stays relatively low, it is highly doubtful that prices will go down, except for promotions. That leaves everyone else trying to catch up, no small feat when all the other costs of living have skyrocketed. Good on Amazon for seeing an opportunity, and seizing it. I can only wish we had this in the early-80s.

Dr “What’s On Your Plate?” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[michaelphotolondon23]

WEEK 9:

First Photo Credit: Anastasia Taylor-Lind, 2/4/23, 'Mass grave excavation, Bucha, April 2022'

Second Photo Credit: Anastasia Taylor-Lind, 2/4/23, 'Coal deliveries, Donbas, June 2022' 

Have a look at all the photos in the exhibition.

Explain how the exhibition as a whole makes you feel. What do you understand about life in Ukraine from looking at these photos? What choices has the artist made to convey this message?

I thought this exhibition was underwhelming, honestly. Maybe this is because I have been closely following some very uncensored media outlets which show videos and images of conflict from the front lines which are much more attention-grabbing and violent, showing the animosity of the war. Anyhow, the exhibition was designed to show the effects on civilian life in Ukraine, not the front lines. I think it did a decent job of this, though (minus the mass grave excavation at Bucha photo) the images still felt relatively removed and not as descriptive as they could otherwise be. 

Then:

choose one photograph that conveys its message effectively. Explain how and why you think it does this.

The photo of the mass grave excavation at Bucha was by far the most effective and powerful photograph in my opinion. Even though the bodies are relatively far from the camera, there is plenty of detail to make out cosmetic differences and wounds, where exposed. This kind of photo, mixing the grim scene with civilians milling about with military, is very somber.

choose one photo that you think is ineffective. Explain why you think this. 

The photo of the woman standing next to the truck bed and pile of coal wasn’t a very powerful image. Sure, once you read the caption and are provided context, you can understand the difficulties she’s facing, but the image itself isn’t powerful or evocative of anything really. That you need the caption to add depth to the image means the image isn’t very strong on its own. A strong image shouldn’t need a caption to explain its gravity or meaning.

What effect does the inclusion of captions and quotes in the exhibition have on the way you understand the photographs?

I think that having the captions and quotes helps the images develop their human element that much more. Understanding the war not just in statistics and news headlines, but seeing it through the expressions of civilians on the ground really helps develop the depth of their stories.

Write a short commentary (between 100 to 200 words) explaining your choices and discussing the experience of taking the photograph(s): 

I think this image does a good job capturing the autonomy of Londoners. The people in this city are not unfriendly, but everyone seems to stick to their own and not offer much conversation, at least while in transit. Of course there are outliers to this, such as families and friends and school groups, but the casual transit user in London seems very closed off. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, transportation is transportation, not happy hour. I took this photo because I thought the lighting was very cool as well as showing how everyone keeps to themselves, usually glued to their smartphone. Maybe this is just me being an American who isn’t used to (good) public transport, but there's something wonderfully mundane about the attitude of people on the tube and buses. As far as the composition of this image is concerned, I’m happy with it as it is. I think it does a good job showing how spaced people sit when they can, how they are each in their own world, and the lack of lighting in the tube car highlights the use of their smartphones.

[246sn]

mc enemiez! ( ✶ ) chapter 28 : tug of war // word count: 2.2k

⸝⸝ SYNOPSIS ‎𐪆 despite jungwon being a #humble leader, he was kinda salty about the fact that his almighty title of the “youngest leader in k-pop” has been taken by blackpink’s brand new juniors. the world goes against jungwon’s wishes in staying as far away from her as possible when they both end up being the new mcs for ‘the show’. ₊˚✸ ༘

⸝⸝ WARNING ‎𐪆 some swearing … and angst? idk lol

“if everything goes well, promise me you’ll invite me to hang out with you all after school?” were the words that rang inside your head ever since jiyeon left for school.

you really hoped everything could go well. reject sunghoon nicely, just like what jihye said, and tell jungwon about your feelings the next day hopefully even today if you saw him.

the rest of the story is below!

to cut the glitch :')

the view outside your car’s window was the hybe building in all of its glory.

it was sort of surprising that the first time you ever visited hybe was not because of jungwon but because of sunghoon.

as your car neared closer to hybe, you couldn’t help but feel nervous about what was going to happen.

you weren’t sure on how to reject someone and you weren’t sure if you should’ve notified jungwon about this meeting before you even came.

thinking it would’ve been the safer option, you obviously didn’t tell jungwon about your whereabouts. besides, you two weren’t really a couple so it would be fine for you to hang out with a friend… who you were going to reject.

as the car halted right before the entrance, you took a deep breath to calm down the obvious nerves you had.

“i’ll just be here. call me once you want to get picked up.” your manager said through the window before driving off, probably to find a driving spot.

maybe you should’ve also told your manager that you weren’t actually here to practice your lines for tomorrow's show with jungwon but it was easier for you to convince him this way.

though it didn’t matter anymore, once you stepped foot and took that first breath of hybe, it felt somewhat illegal to be in another company’s building.

hybe sort of reminded you of a five-star hotel, which you guessed was good since it was probably very clean.

barely ten steps into the building, you see sunghoon already waiting for you nearby with a wide smile on his face.

“you came.” he said, almost relieved at that fact.

“we did agree on this, sunbae. i couldn’t bail on you.”

with that, he led you to where you suppose enhypen’s practice room is while making a lot of small talk which evidently turned into full on conversations.

once he opened the door, you were surprised at how part of the practice room was transformed into a weird makeshift picnic area.

a bunch of random blankets and even a sleeping bag were used instead of a picnic blanket. there was also an assortment of restaurant delivery bags and boxes instead of a picnic basket.

“at least he got the good kind of 1 litre soda… but he forgot the cups.” you thought to yourself.

sunghoon scratched his head in embarrassment after looking at how bad his execution actually was.

he wasn’t sure if you were judging this or taking a mental picture to laugh at it later.

maybe a part of him even forgot that you were a yg girl that’s used to living a lavish lifestyle.

“i promise i planned this weeks ago. it’s just that the execution part was a little rough…” he tried to defend himself which only made you laugh.

“it’s fine! i actually think i like it a little. it shows your creativity, you know?”

sunghoon knew it was a joke but he did feel a little bit better about himself after your reassurance before you both took a seat on the blankets.

you looked around, admiring enhypen’s big practice room. maybe a part of you even wondered if you could watch jungwon practice here in the future.

however, those daydreams would need to come again another time as sunghoon is sitting next to you, probably admiring your beauty or something.

“you or wonie should give me a tour of this building soon. it’s huge! especially this practice room, jiyeon would simply scream if she were in here.”

“yeah, i could totally tour you later. i need to tell you something though, well you probably already know-“

you didn’t know what went on in your brain when you panicked and thought the best idea was to cut him off with, “hey, sunghoon. where’s the bathroom?”

“what?”

“uhm the bathroom.”

“oh! once you go out, turn left then right at the end of the hallway.”

“thank you and sorry, let’s just continue this conversation once i return.”

“sure, no problem.”

you rushed out of the practice room after that. though your mind and heart was already set on jungwon, you couldn’t help but feel bad for sunghoon.

he seemed like the type to cringe at romantic things so seeing his creativity and hard work with the random sleeping bag, blankets, and take out seemed very applaudable.

you couldn’t remember which way the bathroom was so you turned right and then left once you reached the end of the hallway.

“reject him nicely, he’s too pretty to hurt.” were the words you muttered to yourself on repeat.

as you neared a certain room, you heard muffled voices of two boys yelling.

you knew it was bad to eavesdrop but it did help you forget about the stress you were under with the sunghoon rejection.

“i’m telling you, she wouldn’t like this!”

“how does she not like cool concepts like this?”

“do you even know her? she obviously likes cute concepts!”

“how would you know? you held her hand once and then insulted her, her members, and her company!”

you placed your ear next to the door to hear what the other guy was going to say to that.

how would he know? does he have a secret relationship with her? what’s going on?

“we’re friends… but still.. it doesn’t matter..! she won’t like it!”

“that’s it! we’re changing concepts since you keep complaining! you’re lucky i put a lot of thought into this. i’ll get a drink first. you want something?”

before you could hear the other guys response, the door suddenly opened which made you fall onto his chest.

“y/n?”

you look up with wide eyes to see an exasperated jungwon looking down at you.

“now i hate this, hyung…”

he looked back at niki, who was checking out the next outfit he was going to wear from jungwon’s bag.

“wear it otherwise i’m going to confiscate your phone.”

niki groaned while looking at you with a look that could only scream “please save me”.

with that, you grabbed jungwon’s hand and pulled him into the hallway before intertwining your fingers together.

“what were you and niki doing in there?”

“oh nothing… just taking pictures for the fans, that’s all.” he explains before using his free hand to put your hair behind your ear.

“well jiyeon’s a huge enhypen fan and i know what clothes she wishes you guys would wear so if you want i could help you in styling.” you begin before tip toeing to whisper in his ear.

“that outfit niki is holding is something even she doesn’t want to see on…” your eyes followed niki as he tried sneaking away from jungwon.

“he’s walking away, isn’t he? i’m going to make him wear the worst outfits imaginable if he isn’t here in 3…”

“one…”

“two…”

“what? uh… no!” you said in a panicked state before watching niki run back into the room he was just in.

“thr-“

“y/n! there you are!”

your head immediately turned to sunghoon who was smiling right when he saw you.

you noticed how his smile fell and was soon replaced with an irritated look once he noticed jungwon and how he was holding your hand.

“jungwon.”

“sunghoon hyung.”

“y/n and i better get going. we planned to spend the whole day together, right?”

sunghoon took your free hand and tried to tug you away from jungwon who didn’t let go but instead pulled you back towards him.

“y/n offered to help me with something. maybe she could spend time with you next time.”

“the only reason why she’s here right now is because we planned on hanging out together.”

“well plans could change and now is the perfect case of that.”

“y/n shouldn’t be forced into something you clearly decided on once you saw me.”

as their argument gradually heated up, their grips on your hands tightened while each pull of your arms had more force than the last.

you glance at niki, who seemed to be too occupied on his phone to mind whatever was going on, hoping for help as the two boys pulled you like a very intense game of tug of war.

all of a sudden, the grips on your hands loosened and before you knew it, jungwon had already lunged at sunghoon who had begun fighting back.

it took you a few minutes to actually comprehend what was going on, maybe it was a bad thing that you tuned them out for a little while.

right when you came to your senses, you noticed how jungwon was already about to punch sunghoon right across the jaw.

“jungwon, no!”

thankfully, niki ran to hold him back while you struggled to pull sunghoon away.

“if she really cared about you, she’d at least tell you she was coming to meet me!”

“shut the fuck up or you’d seriously regret it!”

sunghoon merely scoffed as he pulled out of your already loosened grip and walked closer to jungwon who was already fighting to get away from niki.

“is that all you could say, jungwon? are you just going to give me empty threats the rest of the day?”

jungwon shoves niki away before immediately grabbing sunghoon by the collar.

“i’m pretty fucking confident that she cares about me. you don’t even know half of the things we’ve done together.”

“i bet you two didn’t do much considering she still chose to be with me.” he said while shoving jungwon’s hands away from him.

you weren’t exactly sure why you did what you did but getting in between a fight means just that, right?

right as jungwon tried to make his next move on sunghoon, you’ve already stormed in between them.

“that’s enough! the two of you! if this is all just going to be about me choosing which one of you i’m going to go out with, i’ve made my decision. i’m not going to choose either of you!”

with that one single sentence, their guards were down, especially jungwon. he seemed absolutely defeated.

jungwon tried holding your hand but you pulled it away as quickly as you could.

“you. i really thought that you were better than this, jungwon. hell, i was supposed to tell you that i liked you tomorrow! imagine how stupid i am to think i could give you a chance when you’re fighting over me as if i’m some toy your older brother stole from you.”

sunghoon noticed how torn jungwon looked after you told him that. he couldn’t imagine the pain and the heartbreak jungwon must’ve felt after realizing that the girl he likes doesn’t want to be with him anymore.

that was the weirdest part, sunghoon couldn’t imagine how jungwon must’ve felt.

it left him confused, of course. knowing he wouldn’t have gotten a chance either way should’ve left him as broken as jungwon was right now but why didn’t he feel affected by this?

“park sunghoon.” we’re the words that broke sunghoon from his thoughts.

“i really thought we could continue being close friends even after i was supposed to reject you today. even if you’re still very pretty after a fight, i still can’t help but say that i can’t like you that way and i don’t think i’ll ever want to! god, you two are so childish. i’m not even worth ruining this friendship for!”

as you gave them both a final glance, you noticed how jungwon’s head was hung low while sunghoon couldn’t help but look at the younger with concern.

“i should go. don’t even bother texting me.” with that, you stormed off.

you were still in the same hallway when you bumped into the rest of the enhypen members.

“y/n? we came as fast as we heard.” heeseung said.

“it’s fine, they’re probably back there.” you pointed and looked back to see sunghoon trying his best to comfort jungwon who was already sitting on the floor with his hands covering his face.

before you could put your hand down, jake got a hold of your wrist to inspect it.

“are your hands okay? did they do something to you?”

“oh yeah they wanted to act like they were in squid game and used me as the rope for tug of war. they both lost. i’m fine though, it’ll go away soon enough. i should go.”

before you could leave, you noticed sunoo slowly moving to hide behind jay as you neared him.

he seemed guilty of something, not just because of how he ratted sunghoon and jungwon out that one time but because of something more.

he flinched when you got extra close to him and pulled him down to reach your height.

with your thumb, you wiped the sauce off of sunoo’s face.

guilty as charged.

“you stole chicken from the takeout sunghoon bought. anyways, i’ll get going now. goodbye.”

you walked away so casually, trying your best to ignore jay's comment when he said “now i see why jungwon really likes her.”

you knew it wasn’t girlboss to cry over a boy on your way home but that’s exactly what you did and you weren’t going to complain.

〈 masterlist | next 〉

⸝⸝ NOTE ‎𐪆 the athletes are fighting bye !!! idk if the fighting scene was any good ,,, i probably watered down all the intense stuff without knowing lolz :pp also sorry for the late update pls forgive me 😭💔

vote for my next smau here and lmk if u wanna be added to a 3rd taglist 😅 bc i’m not sure if i should open one

⸝⸝ TAGLIST ‎𐪆 [status : closed / italics can’t be tagged] @enhacolor @youngbloodslut @ceoyjw @lunaflvms @enhyped-up @yizhoutv @fairycheol @kissuzies @yvesismywife @ja4hyvn @wony6ung @vlykai @one16core @papiibuprofen @hiqhkey @bloodylovelymary @luvarots @missmadwoman @hoonstrology @mitsukifilms @soobin-chois @venusesroses @bearseulgs @jiwlys @jaywonlix @ihrtwon @awkwardnesshabitat @xuanya @ultnishimura @yjwfav @shynypeacekitten @stealanity @zzwnki @renjunvrse @niocity @higamersitsbarney @jwlvr @maeumiluv @annoyingbitch83 @darrensos @odetoyeonjun @s35nbae @enloveclub @afiaaaa19 @moonchilddfics @myluckycat @c9tnoos @yogurteume @gguksblush @drunkwithfever @staysstrays @limiliib @penghoonz @acciomylove @soobsdior

[sugaxjpg]

ghosts just wanna have fun; m

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

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

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

✓ Words: 20,062

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook sighed. “I just—”

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

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

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

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

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

He sneered. “I absolutely don’t.” 

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

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

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

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

Jungkook scoffed. “When does it, really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook raised one eyebrow. “B.F.?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_________________

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

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

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

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

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

Well, most days it was. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook smirked. “And it killed you.”

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

He laughed. “Yeah, that’d be awful.” 

________________

But that was, ultimately, what he did.

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

Spoiler: he didn’t explain it very well. 

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook frowned. “Hm? Why is that?” 

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

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

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

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi frowned. “You good?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

_______________

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

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

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

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

Yoongi nodded, satisfied. “Nice.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oh no.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” You asked. 

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it happened. 

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

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

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

Yep. He totally did that. 

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

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

Taehyung chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked twice, puzzled. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost choked on air. “You what?” 

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

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

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

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

“How?” Taehyung asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “You asked.” 

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

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

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

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

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

But desperate times require desperate measures. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“Just give me the permission,” Yoongi commanded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi hummed. “Go on.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” His eyes widened. “I’m not.”

“Why are you so red?” Taehyung asked.

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel better?” Jungkook asked.

He nodded. “Much better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you there,” he said. 

You smiled. “See you, Kookie.” 

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

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

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

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

_________________

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

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

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

Yep, it would be a difficult night. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he did, and even reached beyond that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Windows’ blue screen. Please, hold.

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

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

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

You smiled. “Perfect.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” Taehyung sounded actually offended. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi shrugged. “Some people like it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

___________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he was really about to fall apart. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Out of my own place?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

[wangshuus]

love like you | xiao

pairing: xiao/gn!reader

genre: angst+fluff

wc: 4.1k

summary: you and xiao are polar opposites according to him and because of that, he deems himself unworthy. 

note: this is my first time writing for genshin and i love xiao so much so this is essentially a bunch of word vomit i whipped together while listening to love like you from the su soundtrack :’) 

(i’ll have to go in for another proof read after but pls take this for now)

fic under the cut

In the land of Liyue, the Adepti were acknowledged for being the protectors of the sacred land, guarding both it and its people. As most of the adepti resided in their abodes, there was but one that stayed within the vicinity of the Wangshu Inn. Xiao; the Vigilant Yaksha, Conqueror of Demons, Alatus. He went by many titles, many names all of which carried the story of the adeptus himself. Upon the years of history carried through Liyue in its passing generations, it’s known to many that despite having the looks of a young man, the adeptus was not someone you would want to take lightly. The Yaksha carried thousands of years worth of burden, shackles of guilt and terror binding him to unpleasant memories. With every passing day, he is harshly reminded of the way he and his polearm skillfully worked through the bloodied dance of weapons on the battlefield, crimson liquid painting the ground and his very hands. It stains so intensely that it was like an unseen tattoo that reminded him of eons of slaughter he partook in, the lives and dreams he so greedily took from people. It was something only he could see and something he would continue to see for many more years to come according to him. 

He very rarely got close to anything or anyone, devoting his life to duty and the orders granted to him by Rex Lapis to protect the beloved land of Liyue. For this very reason, he never thought much about emotions or the overall concept of it, seeing it as a worthless matter, a weakness even, for it could not help in the slaying of those in battle. All he ever knew at that point was violence, having his purity harshly stolen from his grasp all those centuries ago and being left with not even a single grain of what it was like to feel anything pleasant. Whenever he did feel anything, pain, suffering and agony were the only things that filled his system therefore to him, it was better to feel nothing at all. Needless to say, he was somewhat unapproachable on several levels, but who could blame him? 

There then came a day in which all of this would away as an estranged guest made your way merry when into the Inn. You, (Y/n) were a mere mortal traveler with a dendro vision chained upon your hip, specializing in the field of healing. You stumbled upon the inn, looking to take on commissions and requests in exchange for a room for the time being. Your fates clashed with each other during your first encounter when you were tasked to deliver almond tofu to the adeptus that was specially made by yourself. You could still remember stuttering over your words in embarrassment during your first meeting as he revealed himself to you, commending you for your culinary skills but telling you to leave immediately, saying something along the lines of it being ‘too dangerous for mere mortals to stay in the presence of adepti for too long’. It was accurate to say that you two took an interest in the oddity of the situation. Why did Xiao decide to reveal himself to the simple human, knowing very well his mere presence was already a threat to you. Why did you not turn away in fear just from the adeptus’ profound deathly gaze? There were several unspoken questions between you two at the time but that one fateful encounter had caused a shift.

You had decided to extend your stay at the inn a little longer than you intended to. You went about the daily tasks set out by Verr in exchange for your stay every day that you were there. The completion of your tasks leads to a delivery that had become habitual to you during your stay at the inn. Every day you’d made your way up to the highest terrace in the inn to drop off a plate of almond tofu to the adeptus. On some days, he’d reveal himself and on some others, he chose to remain unseen-- and to you, this was okay. As the days passed, it began to be more apparent how odd this whole shift was for the both of them.

You are an adventurer, someone who sought out to travel the lands, and yet, you remained grounded at the Inn, your fascination and curiosity driving your patience to learn about the distant Yaksha and fuelling your willingness to stay settled at the inn instead of seeking for the thrill of adventure. Xiao was an adeptus, a being that has lived for many years on end, a being that has slaughtered countless, a being that carried an indescribable amount of karmic debt for all the treacherous and ungodly amount of terror he has bestowed upon thousands in the past. He could not explain to himself why he even decided to associate with a simple mortal, thinking that there was something wrong with him at the time because he knew that if he were in his right mind, he would have never even bothered taking a glance at the human. But then again, not all things could be explained. From the days that you had stayed at the Inn for that time, you would find yourself visiting the lone adeptus every evening, delivering a plate of what became familiar to him as your almond tofu, the one that deemed to be the closest to that of the dreams he so greedily devoured all those years ago. 

Months had passed since the first day you first set foot into the inn. You had managed other work and commissions throughout the time but often found herself coming back. you became well acquainted with everyone who worked there, practically making it her second home in fact. Even when you did have to part ways, you would pass by whenever you could, sparing your time and energy at least once a week to come reeling back like a moth drawn to a flame. The reason behind it was very evident to you, nothing that you would ever admit to hiding at this point. You did enjoy the company and atmosphere of the other humans at the inn but at the end of the day, everything came back down to the enigmatic adeptus that resided there. 

Sensing your presence had become second nature to the adeptus, him knowing the very moment you set foot into the Inn. He would never admit it to himself, but he found himself looking forward to the mortal’s visits. He still thought about the first day he decided to reveal himself to you, feeling a little more content about it with every passing day. But something about the whole ordeal scared him to no end. He wished it wasn’t the case but he was well aware of all the changes and feelings that had bloomed since you waltzed into his life. The feeling of bubbling excitement inside of him every time you came back to him, the feeling of embarrassment of when you’d blurt out compliments towards him, feeling more comfortable and daring as the visits continued. The feeling of protectiveness washing over him when you told him stories in which you got even the slightest bit injured. One may view this just as someone showing emotion; but that was the problem for him. He wasn’t supposed to show emotion-- he wasn’t supposed to feel-- according to himself at least. Rather, he didn’t deem himself worthy to feel pleasant emotions.

“Xiao” A familiar voice called out to him, turning to face the direction from where he stood, which happened to be the spot where he viewed the familiar landscape of Liyue.

You made your way towards him, holding out a plate of almond tofu which he had come to admire. He took the plate from your grasp and greeted her with a light hum of acknowledgment before beginning to munch down on the tofu. You let out a soft chuckle before standing next to him and leaning on the railing, staring off into the starry skies you had become accustomed to seeing, though every time, it never failed to amaze you. Your eyes gazed at the twinkling stars in the sky as you began your usual routine of speaking about how your life has been since you last saw each other. You had become accustomed to Xiao’s aloof demeanor at times like this because you knew that despite him seemingly looking uncaring, he was secretly listening to your rambling. You stared off into the distance as you spoke, your attention being stolen by the stars. While at work on the plate of almond tofu in his hands, Xiao took these moments to look at you as he silently listened to your long-winded sentences.

In serene moments like these, it was hard for Xiao to keep his composure. Though the stars in the sky glimmered so beautifully, they paled in comparison to your eyes when they sparkled so passionately when you spoke of your adventures. In moments like these, Xiao was reminded of your courteous nature. He was reminded of how good you are, going about your time adventuring the lands, specializing in the art of healing with the assistance of the beloved vision clipped at your side. You lived for adventure; you lived to help those in need. It was in moments like these when he became painfully aware of how different you were from each other.

It had been so long since Xiao ever considered himself to be good in any way. He was all too aware of the disgusting red that painted his hands permanently, the hands which have slain countless beings in the past. The hands that he did not see worthy to touch anything so fragile in fear that it would break, feeling as if anything would die at even the slightest touch of his fingertips. You see, when he met you, he was so sure that he was far from anything good and you proved himself to be right in his mind; because you were what he deemed to be good in his eyes. And he was nothing like you.

Before he knew it, he was left with an empty plate and a bustling mind full of thoughts as he looked out into the distance along with your words flowing freely with the wind. You turned back to see Xiao in all his glory, taking in his presence, eyes lingering upon him like the first time you met him. There was never a day that passed where he didn’t look stunning in your eyes. The reserved yaksha was nothing short of a challenge for you to get close to. Even to this day, there are times where he was standoffish towards you. In moments like these, you’re reminded of how you’ve barely scratched the surface of his character, being well aware that he’s lived far longer than you and will quite possibly continue to live way beyond your time. Though he hasn’t explained every single detail of his past to you, there have been significant points in time where he has opened up about snippets of his past, to which you grasped and held onto as much detail as you could when he went on. You’ve picked up that Xiao isn’t the most well-articulated when it comes to explaining his feelings but you paid no mind to it, taking pride over the fact that he has yet to slit your throat open with his spear. There have been countless occasions in which you’ve praised Xiao but none of them have truly projected your feelings towards the adeptus.

Xiao was not truly aware of how deeply you felt for him. Sure, he thought that you were interested enough to stick around and pester him for who knows whatever reason. However, it went way beyond that. You admired him so dearly, his presence being one in which you ironically found an indescribable amount of comfort in. You’ve listened intently to his wise words of wisdom, his tales of his bloodstained past that he was willing to share, as well as his little remarks about how peculiar humans are. You saw beyond the seemingly frigid, cold, and distant demeanor of Xiao and instead saw a boy with such a yearning to be tender, gentleness being beyond his reach according to him but to you, he was gentle. 

You noticed the way he would handle the little things involving you. You notice the way his tone has changed in the slightest when talking to you whenever he does, softer than the first time you had initially met. You notice the way he acts when it comes to physical touch, preferring to make little to no contact to you but his touches were soft and fleeting whenever touch was necessary. He’s told you several times in the past that he has a brute touch preferring a distance to keep himself from hurting you. From that alone, you knew he’s gentle, reluctant to admit it though due to the events of the past but nonetheless, his gentleness was hard to grasp but must be cherished greatly and that is something that you have done. 

“Xiao” You called out to him. He turned to face you, noticing how you were staring right back at him, your arms resting upon the railing as you gazed at him.

“Is something wrong? You seem a little more spaced out today.” You spoke out again.

He sighed before clicking his tongue. “It's nothing that should be of any concern to mo--” 

“--mortals like you, I know yada yada yada. You’ve said that far too many times in the past. Now tell me, what’s truly wrong Xiao. I did make you listen to my rambling so it’s only fair that you shoot something my way.” You cut him off. 

Annoyance laced his features as he let out his nth sigh of the day. He turned to look at you, giving you a serious, almost cold look.

“I am already greatly aware of how odd some human tendencies are, knowing you mortals do some strange actions that even I question to this day. But you, you are the most peculiar of ones that I have encountered. You wish to stay with someone as myself, someone who could take your life in a single heartbeat. So tell me, why does someone like you continue to linger?”

Lo and behold, a question that you were surprised to hear from him, though you knew the day would eventually come when he would ask. Why did you continue to come to him time and time around? You let out an exasperated sigh as you turned to him with a lighthearted smile in an attempt to lighten the tension that filled the air.

“I enjoy your company, that’s all. Is it so wrong to spend time with someone when you enjoy them being around?” You stated. His eyes narrowed at your response.

“I do not believe it is normal to risk your life simply for mere company, it is not worth it. I refuse to believe that your motives are as light-hearted as that. Is there something that you desire that is beyond that of human capabilities?” He stated.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your smile faltered at his aloof response. What was with the sudden cold demeanor he decided to put up front? You held eye contact with his warm amber orbs that held a stare ironically as cold as the mountains of Dragonspine.

“It’s because you’re you, Xiao. I come back and spend my time here because you are you. I enjoy the little things about you and the time we spend together, y’know? I enjoy the way your eyes light up at the sight of almond tofu, I enjoy your little declarations of how odd us mortals are, I enjoy hearing you open up about even the littlest of things. You’re special in my eyes, Xiao. You’re strong in so many different aspects, you’re wise in the words of advice you speak and last but not least, you’re gentle. Those are just a few of many aspects of yourself that make you so special to me.”

Xiao’s face contorted to one of bewilderment for a brief moment before morphing to one of disbelief, scoffing at the statement. ‘Gentle’ he thought. When you mentioned him being gentle, he thought to himself that it was a load of pure nonsense.

“Calling me gentle is simply blasphemous. I have told you countless times that I am far anything related to that of a tender nature. I leave nothing but a trail of anguish and regret. You’re foolish to see me in anything of a good kind of special, even more so if you see me as gentle.” He firmly stated as his arms crossed tightly across his torso.

Archon’s Xiao’s mind was a mess. He was in a stubborn state of denial as he refused to believe the words that slipped past your lips, writing them off as lies. He covered the creeping insecurity that arose in him with a stone cold demeanor like he always did. He couldn’t accept it, he couldn't even fathom to believe what makes you think he’s so special. 

“Listen Xiao, you’re being awfully stubborn right now.” You said dejectedly. Despite his current manner, you wouldn’t back down, seeing this as one of the only opportunities where you could truly and openly speak about how you felt towards him. You turned so that you were fully facing him, standing your ground as you spoke to him.

“You think so lowly of yourself sometimes y’know? It saddens me to know that you only ever see yourself like that.” You stated.

“I am stating nothing but the tru--” Xiao spoke.

“Listen to me, Xiao.” You cut him off, him being surprised by your snapback.

“You’re far more than your own past. I’m aware of everything you’ve gone through from what you’ve told me. Forgive me for I’m unable to fully sympathize with you but I can’t let you continue to do this to yourself. I’ve only known you for mere months out of the thousands of years you’ve lived but I’ve been around you long enough to know that you’re not as bad as you claim yourself to be.” You paused for a moment to gather yourself before you continued on, looking that Xiao was very much paying attention, an unreadable look on his face.

“You’ve told me yourself that you’ve been around long enough to capture the knowledge of the world to an extent. You’ve told me that you’re aware of how barbaric and lethal your own strength is but you’ve never told me that you hold tenderness inside you, even after all you’ve been through. You hold such valuable knowledge in the field of strength but you’ve failed to notice that the gentleness in you is not completely gone.” Your own hands stretched out and firmly held onto his gloved ones as you continued speaking. 

“You speak about yourself as if you’re not worthy of feeling anything but the anguish and pain as a price to pay for your actions. You’re allowed to feel vulnerable, you’re allowed to feel curious, you’re allowed to feel happiness. I want you to be more honest with yourself so that you can see that you’re worthy enough to feel good emotions. You can extend yourself out to others and the human world and allow yourself to be free. Still after all this time, I sense you feel that it’s necessary to keep me at an arm's length but that’s not true nor is it something that I want. Though this fact alone proves my statement. The fact you wish to keep me away is a sign that you hold that gentleness within but you can still learn to be gentle without having to lock everyone out. Your loneliness isn’t an inevitable conclusion, and I’ll prove to you that it isn't. I wish to stay with you not only because I enjoy your company but because I found something in you worth cherishing. I want to see you grow from whatever anguish you hold, even if it’s just a little bit. I know my life might be merely a second in yours but please, let me do what I can in my lifetime to make you feel worthy and feel loved, because I truly do love and care for you, Xiao.” Your grip tightened around his hands, fearing that he’d yank them away from you with every passing second. Although you firmly stand your ground, you were internally malfunctioning at the whole-hearted confession to the adeptus in front of you.

Xiao felt as if the wind was knocked out of his lungs, face contorted into that of even more disbelief as he found himself still trying to process this whole ordeal. He took the time in processing the words that came directly from your heart as it went straight into his, a warm feeling erupting inside of him, something that felt to foreign to him that it scared him a little. Though your words held a weight to them, it was much more pleasant compared to that of his past memories, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from the way you desperately held onto him.

He was well aware that he could pull away from you at any moment, knowing that your strength could in no way match his but he couldn’t do it. The moment your hands touched his, even through his gloves he felt the firm gentleness of your grasp. You were no hydro user but in that very moment, he felt as if you washed away the bloody sins that stained his hands for years on end. For once he felt clean; for once he felt pure, rid of all the unpleasantries of the world for these very moments that he spent with you.

You noticed how Xiao stood still. You feared that you might’ve severely angered him from the way you snapped at him, but the look on his face told you otherwise.

The usually serious and stern face of the adeptus held such a soft, perhaps vulnerable look. His eyes were wide and in the moonlight, you could tell that they were glossed over from the way they shone with emotion, mouth slightly ajar, possibly trying to find the right words to respond to you. He didn’t need to say anything though because from that look alone, you got all the answers that you needed.

You slowly let go of his hands as one arm moved to wrap around his waist and the other going towards the back of his head, reeling him in closely for a foreign yet mellow embrace. His hands awkwardly stayed at his sides before they slowly and hesitantly moved to hug you back, leaning in gently to your touch as your hand led his head to the crook of your neck, allowing him to bask in the warmth you so generously offered him. For the first time in archons knows how long, Xiao felt a warm liquid spill from his eyes, staining your shirt. Your hands ruffled through his hair in an attempt to soothe him in his time of vulnerability. His hold on you was still so light, almost as if he was afraid he’d break you if he held on even tighter. The hand that ghosted over his back made its way to one of his arms and tugged at it, encouraging him to hold on as much as he needed.

“It’s okay Xiao, you can hold on tighter. I’m not as fragile as you may think. You don’t have to be scared of breaking me.” You chuckled lightheartedly.

His grip did tighten, as he began to mumble words with his face still buried at your side. Something along the lines of apologizing for snapping at you earlier. Your smile widened as you held onto him even tighter if that was possible.

Xiao knew he wasn’t perfect, he was far from it in fact. He had so many flaws and rough edges but that was okay--that’s what made him Xiao. He never understood until now why you thought he was so special and to be quite frank, he still didn’t understand, but he was determined to understand it one day. He wasn’t good like you but he wanted to start believing that he was good in his own way, wishing to truly do something that he felt was right by you in the future. Though it wouldn’t be the easiest of journeys, he was determined to do something that feared him to no end--for you. He wanted to learn how to love, how to love you even more and openly express it to you but also, learn how to love himself, just as you loved him. 

“Thank you, (Y/n).”

[allronix]

Carth and Force Sensitivity (crossposted from Reddit r/kotor)

This is for @k-she-rambles:

Okay, so while we're shooting the bantha crap over on KOTOR fan theories, u/134340Goat mentioned my all time favorite "Have you been chewing spice?!" fan theory when it comes to KOTOR: Is Carth Force Sensitive?

So this one starts with a story. I mentioned my brother in law, who is pretty much Keeper of the Jedi Archives. Seriously, he's an English teacher and my sister is a librarian. They met at a sci fi convention and their first date was Phantom Menace. We're taking not just geeks, but geeks who can throw the damn bookshelf at you. Brother in law bought KOTOR on the day it launched and turned it into a week long binge watch at his house. And because brother in law is that kind of geek, he's translating the characters into the West End D6 system. I'm watching him do a playthrough, and he's got Canderous and Zaalbar at Ajunta Pal's tomb.

Allronix: Huh. That's odd. Why aren't commenting on anything when Ajunta is speaking?

Bro in law: Oh. They can't even see Ajunta. You have to be Force Sensitive to see a Force Ghost The stronger your Sensitivity, the better you can see it.

Allronix: Really? Then how come Carth can see it?

Bro in law (gets the "holy shit, I gotta confirm this" look): Really?! He just sees something out the corner of his eye or something?

Allronix: No, he sees Ajunta just fine. Understands what the dude's saying too.

Bro in law instantly rolls back to his last save, swaps Zaalbar for Carth, and sees the bit in question.

Bro in law: Oh. Dear. (Goes over to make some quick scribbles on Carth's character sheet)

Okay, so maybe that was a lore fail. I didn't really think about it too much until I hit that False Level Up glitch and ran around with Carth and Mission as Sentinels. Now, while I couldn't really see Mission as a Sensitive, that little bit with my bro in law nagged at me. And became a "once you see it you can't unsee it." Apologies to TV Tropes, where some of these were my additions to the Wild Mass Guess entry on this topic.

Any one of these on its own is pretty easy to blow off. After all, man is career military, and knows All this Shit is Weird. I also like to think of Sensitivity as a spectrum and not a switch. If all life is connected by the Force, then all life would be Sensitive to some degree or another. It’s just a matter of to what degree. It’s only as the list gets longer and longer does the case start looking damning...

What are the odds of surviving that attack on the Endar Spire, getting to the escape pods, sharing the last escape pod with the mindwiped Sith Lord, piloting through the chaos, landing in what passes for the "good" part of town, remaining uninjured, pulling the badly injured mindwiped Sith Lord from the wreck, evading Sith detection while all this is going on, and just happening to find a dump of an apartment where the landlord's not asking questions? That is one amazing string of coincidences and good luck. Get that many in Star Wars, and it's definitely The Force sticking its nose in things.

Piloting the escape pod to land in the Upper City, piloting the Hawk through the Sith Blockade of Taris, the random Sith patrols, the escape from the Leviathan, and the fleet around Lehon along with the crash landing that left the ship easily repairable. Now, compare to Atton who we know to be an excellent pilot and drawing on The Force who still manages to crash the ship at least three times.

He's a scary good judge of character if you're interacting with other NPCs. If you watch him with other NPC characters, he's got a pretty good compass as to which characters are being helpful and which ones are full of shit. The only one he calls incorrectly is Rukil, who is probably also an untrained Sensitive (the age, the "marked" comments) and half senile, which is probably throwing him.

Related to that, his distrust and wariness about something not adding up with the PC, the Jedi Council feeding the party a line of bull, that things just aren't adding up. And on all of it? Dead on. He's 100% right about the Player Character, he just expected something a little less crazy than "that's Darth freaking Revan."

If you play Female Revan, then Carth's the one who gets fried in the torture cages on the Leviathan. Saul comments how strange it is that Carth takes so much punishment and still remains conscious. Now, this is a low level thing, but in lore, Force Sensitives have drawn on it to keep them alive or conscious under duress. Explicitly, the first sign we got that Leia was a Sensitive when she withstood the Imperial torture droid.

Another of his scary ass judge of character feats? In the comics, Zayne (who is on the run from the Jedi, who framed him for the murder of his classmates) has a vision that Mandalorians are coming for Serroco. Saul? Laughs it off, throws Zayne in the brig. Zayne's own friends don't even believe him. Carth gets one of those creepy hunches and starts calling in "duck and cover" sirens as far as he can broadcast, which sends seventeen cities and millions of people heading for shelter. It saves their lives and Carth is called a hero for it. Armed with another hunch, he disobeys Saul (remember this is before Saul nukes Telos) and lets Zayne "escape" from custody. Mind you, not even the Jedi or his party members believed Zayne. Carth did.

Carth makes a lot of creepy weird offhand predictions about the future. He says he knows on some level he'll be there when Saul dies. That certainly pans out. He makes an offhand prediction that the Jedi have set the party up to take a fall. Right again. He tells a female PC that she'll have to make a choice soon, one she can't walk away from. And then we get the temple top. He even blurts out that "I sensed you would have to make a choice soon, and that was it*, I can feel it!"* If you specify a LS Female Revan, his recording for T3-M4 says he's had a hunch Revan would leave without warning. Again, spot on.

Specify a LS male Revan, and Carth will remark to Bastila that seeing the Exile reminds him "there are worse things to lose." The only other people who can see just how screwed up the Exile is are the Jedi Masters, Chodo Habat, and the Force Sensitive party members.

Specify a LS female Revan, and Carth will insist that he would know if Revan were dead (again, scary ass intuition) and that there's an "emptiness" where she used to be. Now, remember one of the things about a broken Force Bond? It would simply be "empty, a wound."

You know how your party members in KOTOR 2 feel upset or even horrified as they realize they feel compelled to protect Exile and can't being themselves to leave, even when said actions are kicking puppies? And how they swing wildly from being crazy, almost stalker level possessive of them to being scared out of their wits and clamming up when you try to pry anything out of them? And the more potent (and untapped) their Force Sensitivity, the more they get hammered with the effect? (Mira and Atton in particular) Yeah. Now, Carth's "I don't wanna talk" looks a bit different, doesn't it? It could also account for that romance arc, especially if you roll a DSF Revan and go for that "everyone dies" ending.

Again, Ajunta Pal. Seeing a Force Ghost? Yeah. Some degree of Sensitivity needed. Understanding what he's saying? Yeah. Takes a bit more than that. And Carth makes a weirdly insightful comment about the Dark Side on top of it.

Notice that this a wall o text argument already, and I'm now just getting to the "Yeah, his kid is able to throw around mid-level Dark Side powers and packing a red lightsaber." Given the jawline and the muleheaded attitude, no way Morgana was fooling around with the pizza delivery boy. That's definitely Carth's kid, and that's definitely Force Sensitivity. Now, while it can skip a generation (see Theron Shan), it tends to run pretty heavy in families.

Lastly? Gee. He comes from a planet settled by and heavily populated by descendants of Force Sensitives who failed their training. I'm also willing to bet some bastard children of Jedi get passed off as "foundlings" and "orphans" and dumped there, too. Jedi are forbidden attachments, but not sworn to celibacy, so...yeah, bastard kids are gonna happen. There's probably a Jedi or two in that family tree. It's circumstantial evidence at best, but it still supports the case.

Now, any arguments I missed? Counterarguments?

And the million credit question: If there's a character who gets to break this news to poor Flyboy, who do you think would actually take that on? How do you think Carth would take that kind of news? And what, if anything, would come of it?

I kinda figure Jolee might be the only one nuts enough to poke that with a stick...I also kinda figure "Sentinel" would fit best. Consular? Hell no. He hired Mical for that. Guardian works with the feats, but the whole "ferreting out deceit and injustice?" Yeah. That's Carth.