#note: i am joking

[badolmen]

WARNING 18+

19

[monadolaguz]

Sorry for the terrible angle, but check out my patchy facial hair everyone!!!

[kai-the-lesbian]

Your parents getting old is so scary, my father read a book that's convinced him that not wearing his glasses will improve his vision 😭😭

[olessan]

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

"I can't stand by and watch him die" "Then don't look" is too raw a line to come from bbc merlin

[baba-is-blog]

BABA IS SHOCKED

[largemandrill]

I made another one

[lucabyte]

Not all who wander are lost. Some who wander, however, are extremely, extremely lost.

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - if we were us (part three)

warnings ; none

prompt ; in which life gives you and Jungkook one more chance to hold on.

note ; hello my little lovers! i hope your day or night has been splendid so far <3 enjoy it. this chapter will be ruining all of that. heehehhe okay i play too much — but this one is definitely an intriguing one. we finally get jungkook's pov in all of this. an inside look into his and sana's marriage. i think what's most important to me about his pov is his opinion on his marriage. up until now, it's pretty much been picture perfect. they're couple goals; they're rich and successful and amazing parents. but beyond all that, is a man who's grappling with his past. he's mourning all the things that have changed. for any man, that's a hard pill to swallow. there are no jungkook x oc interactions in this part (please hold your tomatoes until the end, thank you for your candor) but get used to it — there will be chapters in this fic that do not have scenes with them. mostly in the beginning, but one or two maybe later on. if that's not your vibe, idk, go read after by anna todd on wattpad or something OK ENOUGH RAMBLING i hope you enjoy (shoutout, as per usual, to @httpsincity, my partner in crime, and @writesvani who makes me feel less delusional about this fic 🙂‍↕️)

playlist here

series masterlist here

wc ; 6.1k

[JUNGKOOK'S POV]

Jeon Jungkook is very lucky. 

What comes as a challenge to most people, falls into his lap like ripe fruit from a tree he never had to climb. 

He doesn’t need to sit by windowsills making wishes on stars, or blow out birthday candles with hope. Everything he wanted... simply arrived. 

It’s selfish, he knows. Ungrateful, maybe, to ignore how rich and full his life has become, how perfectly all the pieces fit together like a puzzle designed specifically for him.

When he goes down the list, he can never find a single flaw. Two undeniably brilliant children who make him laugh until his sides ache. Hari, with her curiosity and Jungwon, who reminds him of himself when he was a young boy. He’s almost certain Hari will grow up to be a pianist. A brilliant wife, Sana, who matches his ambition step for step. A job that pays well enough he can afford to send money back to his parents in Busan each month.

Jeon Jungkook is very lucky. 

But, he thinks to himself as he walks back to the car hand-in-hand with Jungwon and Hari, his luck is running out. 

His heart hammers against his ribs, limbs feel heavy as he slips into the driver’s seat of the black Range Rover. The twins giggle as they hop into their car seats, automatically reaching for their seatbelts the way he and Sana have drilled into them since they were old enough to sit upright. 

Sana snaps her compact mirror shut, looking over at him with a frazzled expression. “Baby, where’s the coffee?”

Fuck. 

He left his own coffee abandoned on that small table. In fact, he’s not even sure he ever ordered Sana’s usual — almond milk latte, extra shot — when he finally made it to the front of the line. All coherent thought had evaporated the second he’d caught sight of your hair, the familiar slope of your shoulders, on your fucking shoes that still look like they fit you a bit too small. 

He wasn’t even going to approach you. The plan had been simple: let his mind run wild for thirty seconds, pretend he wasn’t sure it was really you, and walk right back to his car holding his wife’s coffee. 

But, as all things go when involving you, his self-control crumbled like paper in the rain. He can’t pretend you don’t exist when you’re right there, can’t walk away when every instinct in his body is screaming at him to get closer, to find out if seeing him affects you even half as much as seeing you does. 

Can’t ignore you when you’re crash landing into him like you always did. 

He forces himself to focus. The question. Sana asked him a question. Coffee. Right. Shit.

“Sorry. I-I, uh,” He clears his throat, “it was crazy busy in there. I don't know what happened.”

Sana will be annoyed — she's particular about her coffee, has been since their dating days — but it's better than trying to explain why he spent roughly 20 minutes talking to his ex-girlfriend while his kids ate breakfast in the car.

“It’s fine. We’re late to school already. We can't have them late on their first day.” Sana’s tone is clipped. If he had to guess, she’s probably mentally rearranging the morning in her head, figuring out how to salvage their timeline.

He pulls away from the curb, hands on autopilot — turn signal, merge into traffic. But it feels like his brain is stuck in that coffee shop.

“How far is the drive?” Sana wonders aloud. 

“Should be around here. I think it’s walking distance.” 

And it’s not lost on him that out of all the neighborhoods in Seoul, he ended up here. Mile radius from where you get your morning coffee, apparently.

“Mommy?” Jungwon’s voice floats up from the backseat. Jungkook’s chest flares up at the uncertainty hanging off the word. 

“Yes, Jungwon?” Sana’s own voice softens. 

This is the part of her that never fails to surprise him — how completely she transforms when their children need her. The marketing executive disappears, replaced by someone infinitely patient. He’s seen her yell at interns until they logged off calls crying. 

“Will we make friends here?” The vulnerability in his question wipes Jungkook’s brain clean of any thoughts of you. His son, worried about belonging, about finding his place in a world that feels too big for him, becomes his sole worry. 

“Oh, yes, baby. Of course you will. You’ll make a ton.” Sana sounds completely sure, like she’s never met a problem she couldn’t solve. “Anyone would be lucky to be friends with you. You don’t have to change anything about yourself.”

“It’s okay, Wonnie. I’ll let you have lunch with me,” Hari announces beside him, her small hand coming up to pat his arm generously. “And if anyone is mean to you, I’ll tell them to stop.”

Jungkook catches sight of them in the rearview mirror — Hari fierce and protective, Jungwon’s shoulders relaxing — and the flare in his chest from earlier puffs out in a gust of air. 

“That’s very sweet of you, Hari,” Sana says, reaching from the passenger seat to caress her little leg. “But I think Jungwon is going to do just fine on his own too.”

“What if the other kids don’t like dinosaurs?” Jungwon asks trepidly. He clutches the toy to his chest as if a kid who, by some force of nature, happens to hate dinosaurs will come and snatch it up. 

“Then they have terrible taste,” Jungkook jokes, catching his son’s eyes in the mirror. “Right buddy?” 

Sana snorts, glancing over at him in the mirror. “Remember when you were worried about your promotion at Goldman? You thought everyone would be smarter than you.”

He’d forgotten she remembered that. Back when she used to listen to his fears instead of just solving them. 

“That’s different. I was an adult.” He turns onto a backroad, driving over a small pothole mindlessly. 

“Barely,” she teases. “You stress-ate an entire bag of potato chips the night before.”

“I did not stress eat. I enjoyed them.”

“Uh-huh.” She’s looking out the window now, but he can hear the smile in her words. “You left  crumbs in the bed for weeks.”

He hates to admit it, but it’s the most they’ve talked about anything besides their kids and coordinating moving schedules in months. 

The move back to Korea had been brutal, even though they both agreed it was necessary for  him to get promoted again. Logistics, visa paperwork, finding schools for the kids, selling the Manhattan home Sana loved — the list goes on. They had been so focused on surviving the transition that conversation was lost in translation along the way. 

Now their conversations sounded like business meetings: who’s picking up the kids, what time works for Hari’s piano lessons, did Sana transfer the money to his parents. 

And of course, it’s happening now when his stupid head is still full of you. He briefly wonders what you would’ve said to Jungwon, what advice you would’ve supplied to his anxious son. 

You used to make Jungkook practice in front of your stuffed animals before any presentation in college. 

“Speaking of work,” Sana begins, pulling out her phone. “I’ll probably be in the office late today. The Laneige campaign will definitely be insane. You’re handling pickup right?”

Just like that, they’re back to logistics. It all dissolves like sugar in water. “Yeah, I can log off early.” He takes another turn as directed by his Kakao map. “How’s the pitch going?”

“Good. Stressful. You know how it is.” She’s scrolling through emails, half-present. “The creative team keeps pushing back on the concept, but I’m getting them on board whether they like it or not.”

He nods, although she doesn’t look up and note it. She’s talking to the air, working through problems he doesn’t really understand in an industry that’s foreign to him. In New York, at least they’d both been strangers together. 

“The kids need to be picked up by 3:30,” she continues, pushing her hair out of her face. “And Hari has that piano lesson later.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, and can you grab groceries? Somehow we just moved here and we’re already out of those yogurt pouches Jungwon likes.”

The bullet points keep growing. It’s efficient. Their marriage works. 

The school comes into view then, a modest building with a colorful playground set and parents walking hand-in-hand with small children. 

A flicker of a thought traverses across his mind. What is your school like? Do you hang up alphabet charts? Arrange tiny chairs?

The parking lot is absolute chaos. To put it politely, it’s utter mayhem. He does his best to ignore it all, though, otherwise his flight risk of a son might sprint in the opposite direction. Jungkook parks and they all tumble out of the Range Rover, umbrellas blooming open like black flowers against the dim morning light. 

“Okay, my loves,” Sana crouches down to their level. Her phone disappears into her purse, and she becomes theirs. “This is going to be the best day! Your teachers are so excited to meet you, and you’re going to learn amazing things and make new friends.”

Hari nods excitedly, but Jungwon’s chin wobbles faintly. 

“I don’t want to go,” he whispers, nudging his face into Sana’s shoulder. Jungkook tries not to let his heart crack open. 

Jungkook gets down to his son’s eye level, wiping away tears that have begun to gather at his waterline. Jungwon always feels everything so deeply. At this age, Jungkook was the same. Crying over broken toys and scraped knees. 

“Hey buddy,” he soothes softly. “Remember what we talked about? How sometimes being brave means doing things even when they feel scary?”

Jungwon sniffles and lifts his eyes to meet Jungkook’s. 

“I’ll be right here when school ends. Same spot, same car. I promise.”

The guilt makes a home in his stomach as he says it. They were happy in New York — or, at the very least, settled. Jungwon had friends in pre-k, a routine that was safe.

But the offer to lead the Korean expansion of Goldman Sachs, to spearhead a deal with another investment banking firm was too good to pass up. Him and Sana made the decision together, like adults, like partners.  But looking at his son's tear-streaked face, he wonders if they'd asked the wrong people what they wanted.

Sana kisses Jungkook’s cheek. A habitual gesture of affection. “I’ll be right back,” she whispers.

“Come on.” She takes both of their hands, shifting her umbrella to hold under her chin. “Let’s go meet your teachers.”

He watches them walk towards the entrance, waving at Jungwon and Hari one last time when they turn around to see a glimpse of their father inevitably. Sana’s stride is confident alongside them. Even from where he stands, he can see her working her magic. 

Jungkook closes his umbrella, gets back in the car and sits in the quiet as it engulfs him. He watches raindrops race each down the windshield, before collecting at the bottom together. The vehicle smells like rain and the faint trace of Sana’s perfume.

This is enough. This Monday morning, this good life, this family he’s built with a woman who loves their children with her entire soul.

Most days, it is enough.

But as he watches the rain blur his view of the world outside, he can’t stop thinking about how you’d looked when you crouched down to talk to Jungwon in the coffee shop. 

The car door opens before he can let himself fall too deep down the rabbit hole of thinking about you. Sana slides back in, shaking her umbrella before placing it on the floor. “They’re all set. Hari practically dragged her teacher to the art corner and Jungwon stopped crying the second he saw the reading nook.”

“Good.” Jungkook clears his throat, pulling out of the parking space. “He loves books.”

“Gets that from you.” She’s checking her phone again, but peeks up at him. “I think he misses when you used to read to him every night. Even when you got home at midnight from work.”

Jungwon would barely be awake, curled into his chest while he read Goodnight Moon in a whispered tone. Feels like a lifetime ago now that they’re back in Seoul. 

“I still read to him… sometimes.” Jungkook shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“I know. I’m not criticizing.” She sounds tired suddenly. “Just… we used to do more things together. All of us.”

She’s right, and they both know it. He’d often heard stories from his coworkers, from his best friend in America, Aiden, about how marriages fell sour after years of failed commitments and empty promises. Jungkook thought he was doing a good job managing it all. 

But maybe they had turned into roommates who just so happened to share kids. 

“How about this weekend, we could go to Namsan Tower,” he suggests. “The kids have been asking.”

Sana sighs. “I have a presentation early Monday. I’ll be prepping all weekend.”

“What about the next weekend?”

“I have that conference in Busan, remember?” She rubs her temples. “God, I feel like I’m always saying no to things. You don’t think Hari resents me for not going to her piano recital last month, right?” 

“Of course not. You’re building something important. Publicis can’t do half the things they do without you,” he reassures. He’s proud of what she’s accomplished, even if it does feel like they’re ships passing in the night. 

“So are you. The expansion into the Korean market is huge, baby.” She reaches out and runs her manicured hand through his dark hair. Months have gone by since she touched him just because she wanted to. 

“Yeah.” He turns onto the main road towards downtown Seoul. “We made the right choice, right? Coming here?” 

When he turns his head to peer at her, Sana’s face is directed towards the window, eyeing as the city blurs past. “Ask me in a year. When the kids have friends and we're not eating takeout every night because we're too exhausted to cook." 

“We could hire someone to cook,” he points out. 

“That’s not the point, Jungkook.” She doesn’t sound angry. Just tired. “I don’t want to outsource our entire life.”

“I know. I just thought—” 

“What? That throwing money at it would fix things?” Sana exhales, almost as if she’s ridding herself from the negativity she’s grown in her body during their tolling move. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“You’re not being difficult, Sana.” He merges into the left lane, watching her reflection in the passenger window. She’s abandoned her phone, gazing at the puffy clouds. “I get it. You want us to actually live our life, not just get random people to manage it.”

“Exactly.” Sana’s face turns towards his, surprised maybe that he understood. “In New York, we had that routine we did with the kids on Sundays. Pancakes and The Times, the kids would build forts in the living room…”

His lips curl upright automatically at the flashback; Hari and Jungwon used to adore using the blankets and pillows on the couch from West Elm to create makeshift forts. They were very exclusive. Until one Sunday, he and Sana were finally allowed entry, and they spent a good two hours with their kids playing with plastic dinosaurs and sharing bites of cold pancakes.

“You’d steal the crossword before I could finish it…” He sing-songs, chuckling, 

“Steal’ is an exaggeration. I borrowed it temporarily,” she pouts light-heartedly. “You were just too slow.”

“I was being thorough.”

“You overthought seven across for like, twenty minutes.”

For a second, it's like they're back in their old apartment, fighting over the Sunday crossword while the kids made a mess of the living room. 

“...We could start doing that again,’ he says. “The Sunday thing.” 

“Yeah?” She’s hopeful, but then slithers back into caution. “Even with our work schedule?”

“I’ll make it work.” He has no reason not to. After all, he works remotely now, from the home office they set up in their new house. But he can recall a plethora of times he’s said those words and got pulled into emergency weekend meetings. “I mean it this time.”

“You always mean it.” She twiddles with her fingers in her lap. “That’s not really the problem, is it?”

Neither of them answers that. 

“Oh, speaking of schedules,” she says, switching gears. He’s beyond grateful for the change in subject. “Seo-yeon’s baby shower is this weekend. Sunday, I think? Do you mind picking up a gift today when you get groceries?”

“Seo-yeon, your college friend?” 

“Yeah, she’s having a girl. I meant to order something online, but…” She waves her hand vaguely. “Time.”

He nods, adding it to his mental checklist. “Any particular store?” 

“Lotte probably has some nice stuff. There’s also a nice boutique somewhere downtown.” When he glances over at her, she’s back on her phone, furiously typing away. 

“I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“Thanks, baby.” 

They drive in comfortable silence for a while, the rain drumming against the roof. He thinks about asking her if she's happy they upped sticks but he can't bring himself to do it. Not when they're finally talking like they used to. 

“The kids did look excited, by the way,” she notes as they arrive at the Publicis building. “Hari’s teacher seems wonderful. Very patient.”

“Jungwon isn’t in the same class as her?” Jungkook blinks his hazards on. 

“No.” Sana shrugs nonchalantly. “I noticed that as soon as I walked in. He has an older male teacher. I don’t know how I feel about them being in separate classes, to be honest.”

“We can always request a classroom change?” He offers. Ever since the two had exited the womb, Jungwon and Hari functioned as a unit. Sometimes Jungkook worries about his soft son, wonders what will happen when Hari isn’t there to speak for him, to make friends for both of them. 

“Definitely. We’ll just have to see.” Sana gathers her things, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll be home by 7? Possibly with takeout in tow?”

“Sure.” His voice sounds normal, he thinks. “Have a good day.” 

And she has one foot out of the car, touching the pavement, when she turns back. “We’re… okay, right? I mean, we’re figuring it out.”

“Yeah,” he agrees tentatively. “We’re figuring it out.”

She smiles brightly, and then she’s walking off, disappearing into the lobby of her building. 

Jungkook is alone with the rain and the lies he spun together when the truth felt too complicated to untangle. 

He slumps into the driver’s seat, letting out the breath he’s been holding since he first saw you in that coffee shop. From his position, he watches clouds race across the slice of sky that’s visible, moving fast like they know exactly where they’re headed. 

For a split second, he thinks about calling Seokjin.

The thought comes out of nowhere, hitting him like a sucker punch. He hasn’t spoken to Jin in ten years. Jin had made it pretty clear whose side he was on back then — yours, obviously, and Jungkook couldn’t even be mad about it. You were Jin's friend first, and Jungkook had been the one to leave.

Jin had every right to choose you. 

But sitting in his car, with his life in fragments, he wonders if ten years is long enough for some wounds to stop bleeding. If maybe Jin would pick up the phone, if they could talk like adults instead of the stupid 22-year-olds they’d been when everything went to hell. 

He pulls out his phone, finger numbly scrolling to where Jin’s name would be, and realizes it’s probably not up-to-date anymore. 

One of those nights where he felt like the walls of his apartment were closing in on him, he had texted Jin, but it was sent in a green bubble. It might’ve been the second or third year he was in New York, he can’t recall. 

Maybe that’s for the best. There’s nothing he could offer Jin besides, Saw your best friend today and now having an existential crisis. Want to get lunch and pretend the last decade didn’t happen?

You were graceful with him. But Jin… well, Jin, won’t offer him the same. 

Probably better to leave the past alone anyway. 

A restructuring deal Jungkook is working feverishly closes at 1:30 PM, and the familiar sense of satisfaction courses through his veins as he watches the numbers finalize on the screen. 

42 million US dollars in fees for the firm, a full-bellied client, and another deal that’ll look impressive during his year-end review. Back in New York, he was notoriously known for making complicated problems disappear with the right combination of numbers and timing. 

Being Vice President of Investment Banking mostly means his days disappear in a frenzy of internal calls and spreadsheets and negotiations that only matter to people with more money than most small countries. The Korean expansion was handed to him on a silver platter from the start, what with his knowledge of the language, and watching it succeed feels like validation for every risk he’s taken to get here. 

The paycheck doesn’t hurt either. Whoever said financial security doesn’t buy happiness is only partially correct — providing for his parents, for his own family, keeps a half-smile permanently tattooed on his lips. 

By the time he looks up from his computer, it's already almost 2 PM. Shit.

He's supposed to pick up groceries before getting the kids, and Sana's list is embedded in the folds of his brain. Those yogurt pouches Jungwon likes, baby shower gift…

Maybe he’ll pick up something for dinner. They've ordered Korean fried chicken three times this week, and he can practically hear his mother's disapproving voice in his head.

The drive from his home to the heart of Gangnam takes ten minutes on a good day, twenty on a bad day. Today, he’s lucky enough that it’s in between — Seoul’s normal afternoon rush of delivery trucks and taxis and people like him running errands mid-day. 

He calls the school from a red light to let them know he'll be there by 4 PM, listening to the automated message in Korean that sounds slightly foreign, especially after all these years away.

The organic market in Gangnam is unfortunately expensive, catering to affluent families and Korean corporate professionals. Everything costs twice more than what it should, but they stock organic brands that Sana’s been researching obsessively since she was pregnant with the twins. 

He’s walking towards the entrance, running through the list again in his head, when he notices the quaint cafe next door. 

The lunch crowd seems pretty standard — office workers, laptops scattered across wooden tables, ceramic cups of coffees reflecting off  light. 

Jungkook doesn’t normally spend his days staring in cafe windows. But something — or rather, someone — makes him pause in his tracks.

Of all the days, of all the places. 

Seokjin. Or who he perceives as Kim Seokjin — time has a funny way of morphing faces — sitting at a table by the window, laughing at something a man across from him is saying. 

Jungkook’s feet stop so abruptly that someone behind him mutters a curse. His stomach drops like he’s in a free fall, then lurches sideways off-course. He might throw up right here on the sidewalk. 

He blinks hard. Like when one first wakes up and has to pull themselves out of the haze. Once, twice, five times. 

Surely he’s seeing things. Surely, his morning thoughts about Seokjin have conjured up some kind of hallucination. 

But no. It's definitely him. Just older, more distinguished. His hair is shorter, but disheveled as he always kept it in university. His button-down has paint stains splattered on the sleeves. Does Seokjin still paint as often as he used to?

The man he’s talking to has sharper features, glasses hanging off his nose as he gestures expressively towards Jin. 

It must be Jin’s boyfriend. Last he heard through the distant grapevine, Jin had finally come out as gay to his family and friends. 

There was a time where Jungkook would have been the second person he called after doing something as life-changing as that. 

Jungkook hasn't moved in at least thirty seconds. People are walking around him now, giving him annoyed looks, but he can't seem to make his feet work. Part of him wants to walk into that cafe, wants to slide into an empty chair at their table and say something casual like "Small world, huh?"

But a larger part of him is terrified. He would have to explain who he’s become. The married father, the investment banker, the man who abandoned all his dreams for a life that looks perfect. 

He observes as Jin throws his head back and laughs at something the man says. Jungkook used to know exactly what could make Jin laugh like that. Used to be one of the people who could pull that sound out of him during late night conversations in your apartment, back when you were all young and stupid and thought the hardest part of life would be figuring out what to do after graduation.

Now Jin is here, in this random cafe, with someone who clearly adores him, and Jungkook is standing on a sidewalk in Gangnam with organic groceries to buy and two kids to pick up. 

Something impulsive takes over him then. His feet start moving before his brain catches up, carrying him toward the entrance of the cafe like he’s being pulled by invisible strings. 

What the fuck? his rational mind screams. Turn around. Walk away. 

It’s no use — his body isn’t listening. His hand is already pushing open the door, and he’s inside, inhaling the scent of coffee and pastries. The recognizable sound of an espresso machine steaming plays on a loop in his head. 

Twice in one day. The universe, petty as ever, must be howling.

He nearly bumps into a waitress on his way, but misses her by a few centimeters. 

Jungkook can see Jin clearly now, can hear his boisterous voice drift over the chatter of the customers. 

So stupid, he tells himself, even as his legs carry him across the cafe. So fucking stupid. What's the plan here, genius?

There is no plan. There's never been a plan with anything involving his past.

He reaches the table and just… hovers. Like an absolute idiot. 

He can smell Jin’s cologne — it’s expensive and sophisticated and Jin at 22 would never have worn that. 

Jin is mid-sentence, articulating wildly with a fork in hand, when he glances up and sees him. The fork freezes halfway on its way to his mouth. His eyes, resembling maple syrup fresh from the jar, go wide, then wider, like he’s seeing a ghost. 

“Jungkook?” He can’t even recognize his own name coming out of Jin’s mouth. “Jeon Jungkook?” 

Jungkook can only muster a nod in response. His vocal chords have abandoned him entirely. 

Jin looks good. Really good. His skin is glowing, posture confident in a way that wasn’t in college when he was all nervous energy and constantly confused. 

“Holy shit,” Jin exhales, fork falling out of his hand with a clatter. “I can’t… what are you doing here? I mean, in Seoul. I thought you were in New York.”

“I moved back.” Jungkook scrapes the words from the depths of his throat, voice rougher than he expected. “For work.”

“Work.” Jin shakes his head slowly, processing the information. “Right. Of course. You look…” He trails off, studying Jungkook’s face intently. Like he’s searching for that boy he once called his ‘other’ best friend, or at the very least, trying to reconcile the person standing here with whoever he expected to see. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He’s perceptive to the fact that he’s still looming over Jin like a dark cloud of old memories while him and his date are sitting, that he’s interrupting their lunch, that this whole thing was a terrible mistake. “You too. You look really good.”

The man across from Jin clears his throat politely, and Jin's shoulders shake to life. 

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Jin’s cheeks flush crimson red, and he gestures between them. “This is Kim Namjoon. He’s, uh… he’s my friend.”

Jungkook looks over to the aforementioned man. Namjoon’s eyes are kind; that’s the first thing he takes note of. They’re soft pools of warm honey, a contrast to the gray t-shirt he has on. Namjoon extends his hand with a warm smile, and Jungkook shakes it immediately. The grip is firm, equally as confident as Jin’s. Even though Jin introduced Namjoon as his friend, Jungkook is willing to bet money that he’s not telling the truth. 

Not that Jin owes him the truth or anything. 

“Nice to meet you,” Namjoon says. “Any friend of Jin’s…”

“We went to college together,” Jungkook interjects. He doesn’t know why he said that. It feels inadequate to reduce him down to a classmate, but it’s all he can manage right now under the weight of Kim Namjoon’s eyes. 

“Ten years,” Jin mutters like he’s doing the math silently in his head. “Has it really been ten years?” 

“Give or take.” Jungkook awkwardly plays with his fingers. He needs to stop lingering like an awkward specter. 

“Sit,” Jin offers, pointing towards an empty chair that someone must have left at their table. “I mean, if you have time. You probably have somewhere to be.”

He has many places to be. In fact, the list is ever-growing. 

“No, I—” Jungkook catches himself before he can say he has all the time in the world, which is both true and completely false. "I have a few minutes."

He pulls out the chair and sits obediently. He does his best to ignore the way Namjoon shifts to accommodate him. 

“So… your work. Do you still work in investment banking?” Jin settles back in his chair.

“I do,” Jungkook replies. “Vice President now.”

“Wow.” Jin looks genuinely proud of him for a moment. It feels like his fist is clenched around his heart. “Very grown up of you.”

“Says the guy with a button-down on.” Jungkook tries to crack a smile but his lips waver. 

“This old thing?” Jin plucks at one of the paint stains on his top. “Gallery opening last week. Bought it so I could look presentable and I guess I just never took it off.”

“Gallery opening?” Jungkook’s eyebrows lift. “You own a gallery now?”

“Yup. I’m a real painter now, if you can believe it. Like, for money. People buy my stuff.” His expression contorts into a mix of pride and disbelief. “I have a studio in Hongdae, show at a few galleries around the city.” 

“That’s incredible.”

It truly is. Jungkook remembers Jin staying up until 3 AM working on some piece that would never see the light of day, paint under his fingernails and this look of complete adoration for art engrained on his face. “I always knew you’d make it work.”

“Did you?” Jin’s head tilts. “You were definitely convinced I’d starve to death someday.”

He appreciates Jin’s banter, although he’s not entirely sure if he’s worthy of it. 

“Young and stupid.” Jungkook shrugs. “I thought practical meant safe.”

Jin takes a quick sip of his drink. “And now?”

Jungkook’s mind drifts off to his home in Gangnam, his daughter’s expensive piano lessons, his investment portfolio. And just as he’s about to answer, you slip into his thoughts again. You’ve been doing that all day. 

It’s a flash of you talking about your bug project. A pocket in time where you two were just people, reconnecting in a coffee shop. 

Jungkook changes his answer. “I’m not sure there’s really such a thing as safe.”

Jin’s eyes dim a little at his response. Namjoon has been fairly quiet throughout the exchange, but he’s observant. 

“What about you?” Jin asks hesitantly. “Wife? Kids? The whole suburban dream?”

“Two kids. Jungwon and Hari. They’re five.” His tone gets warmer when he talks about them. For a second, he hesitates before proceeding. He’s not sure how much Jin knows about his life but an urge to tell him overtakes his body. “And yeah, married. My wife’s in marketing. Vice President at Publicis.”

“Oof, five year olds.” Namjoon smiles briefly. “That’s a fun age. I bet they keep you two busy.”

Jungkook looks over at him closely. He’s definitely handsome in an understated way. His dark hair cascades over his forehead as he adjusts his glasses, bicep flexing. Good for Jin. He deserves someone like him. 

"They do," Jungkook agrees. "Jungwon's more like me. Quiet, overthinks everything. Hari's fucking fearless. She'll probably end up running the country or selling out arenas as a pianist."

“Sounds about right.” Jin laughs. There’s something hiding behind his eyes Jungkook can’t decipher. It passes too quickly to catch.

“So, what about you?” Jungkook averts his attention to Namjoon. Poor guy probably thought he was getting replaced by Jungkook earlier. “What do you do for work?”

“Software engineer.” Namjoon pushes around the remains of his food with his fork. “Been doing it for a while, but I work at a startup now. Get to work from home so that’s pretty sick.”

Smart and reliable. Jin is a lucky man.

“That shit’s tough.” Jungkook laughs. “I give you props.” 

“Yeah, he’s smarter than me for sure.” Jin jumps in. “He was actually helping me out today to pick out some paint samples for my kitchen. Put me in front of a canvas and I'm fine, but the minute you mention home improvement, I turn into a complete disaster."

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “All I did was pick up the paint bucket for you.”

"You also stopped me from buying that hideous green color."

"It was chartreuse, Jin. Chartreuse."

Jungkook’s eyes volley between them, watching as they continue to poke and prod at each other. They’re so comfortable with each other. There's an ease between them that makes his chest tight. Not jealousy, exactly. It’s worse, and it’s creeping up his spine and making a home at the base of his throat. 

It hits him then: how many other things had changed while he was gone? How many conversations has he missed, how many inside jokes, how many days picking out paint colors?

He knows he’s being naive. The world did not need to wait for him. It was meant to spin on its axis, meant to rotate regardless of anyone’s decisions. But he suddenly feels sick at how much time passed him by while he was in New York, trying to convince himself his new life was the life he always wanted. 

“Jungkook, you should hang out with us sometime.” 

Namjoon's voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, and Jungkook blinks, trying to focus. The invitation is kind, genuine, and it makes everything so much worse.

He needs to get the fuck out of there. He needs to go home now. He needs to get fresh air. 

“U-uh. yeah. Definitely. I would… that would be great.”

Jin's eyes narrow, watching Jungkook's color drain in real time. He was always too good at reading people.

“Cool. I’ll ask Jin to set something up.” Namjoon pats his shoulder. 

Jungkook nods, already pushing back from the table. "I should... I have to pick up my kids soon."

"Of course." Jin stands too, and for a moment they're both just standing there awkwardly. 

“Right. Well, I’ll be off.” Jungkook begins to back towards the exit, reaching for his pocket where his phone is. “It was great, uh, to see you, Jin.”

He can't do this. He can't do any of it. 

“Nice meeting you, Namjoon.” The words echo out as he’s already facing the door, hands shaking as he pulls up Sana’s contact.

He types quickly: “hi baby, i’m so sorry to do this but i’m trapped on a work call. any way you can get the kids?”

They’ve both done this before — covered for each other when life gets overwhelming. She’s usually very understanding, and he is for her. 

He pushes open the door, rushes outside, and takes a big gulp of the cool air as if he’s been drowning. He lets it fill up every inch of his lungs. 

Looking up at the sky, the clouds are still gray and daunting. They’re just as fast-moving as they were earlier, expelling raindrops onto the streets of Seoul.

Jungkook stares at those clouds. Lets the rain collect on his face. 

He’s crying. When did he start crying?

The rain mixes with his tears until he can't tell the difference between what's falling from the sky and what's falling from his eyes, salt and water blurring on his lips. 

Standing here in the rain, watching his past live through windows, he knows his luck ran out a long time ago.

Correction: Jeon Jungkook was very lucky. 

masterlist + ask

taglist ; @arcanekookz @writesvani @yooniepot @whoa-jo @nimmmnikk @readingbee44 @jungshaking @starlight-1010 @jadaocon1 @phoenixxxxstarrrr @jkaxl @butterymin @almatiarau @lovingkoalaface @carriereadsbooks @bhonbhon @lola75111 @yoonstaar @namkookie222 @jeonjenny @lachimochala @kissyfacekoo @libra04 @minimoninini @goldenjeonkoo @ot7even @kopiosuam @annpeachy @literallyjimin @prxdajeon @purplelanterns @neg-l3ct @gguk-lvr @misakiminaa @wisebouquetbarbarian @smoljimjim @mar-lo-pap @senaqsstuff @jkkk9197 @nesha227 @kokoandkookie @rexana19 @delulutofr @adoresjjk @katsukisloveinterest @adolescenceingrained @jeonn044 @sassywildbunny @mellyyyyyyx @parkinglot-nights @alextgef @jeonnabi11

[the-swaggy]

RAMB BLAST 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️🔥

hc-ish ramb yap sesh below

I like to imagine Ramb was around during the 'big-shot era'— like he was just some guy who was traveling around w/ Spamton & when Tenna & him teamed up, Ramb just went w/ him.

I KNOW THAT RAMB'S WHOLE DEAL WAS THAT AZZY TOOK HIM FROM THE LIBRARY AND STUFF.. but I also like to imagine that the Dreemurs originally were the ones to own him & they donated him at some point to the library (then ironically Azzy just took him back anyways). This could be why Ramb doesn't look as much like the other plugboys in the library.. it's because he's a different brand of power strip than they are since the Dreemurs don't use the same brand as the library...?

also I feel like Tenna and Ramb used to be closer pre-divorce stuff, but they started dispising eachother as they both fell deeper into their own personal hells.. yadda yadda their hatred towards eachother is a reflection of their self-hatred yadda yadda.

[uberrima-fides]

Consider the following:

Buckynat officially back together in comics since Thunderbolts 2023

Buckynat openly showing affection and professing their love for each other in a limited Thunderbolts series featuring Doctor Doom that overlapped with the MCU Thunderbolts release

Buckynat leading the New Avengers in the upcoming comic run

MCU synergy increasing across Marvel media, including Marvel Rivals

There are currently only 3 heroes in Marvel Rivals (as far as I can tell) that have skins related to Secret Wars: Iron Man, Black Widow, and Captain America

Nat's Secret Wars related skin is named Mrs. Barnes (as we all know) and was available as a 100% free skin

Our strongest solider Sebastian Stan campaigning for buckynat in late 2024

Conclusion: Natasha will come back (as a variant at the very least) and Marvel is "soft launching" buckynat for the MCU

[drop-dead-dropout]

@plague-agent I DID IT I DID THE THING!!! sorry it took so long I literally ended up rewriting the whole thing and adding a semi-hopeful ending and it turned into a 2.2k words oneshot 😭😭😭 thanks for the motivation lol!!

ANYWAYS OVERLY ANGSTY KIMHARRY ONESHOT UNDER THE CUT SFHJFJNSYXGJVHB

edit: HELP I KEEP ADDING THINGS. KDJDHSNB WHATEVER IT'S MORE LIKE 2.5K WORDS NOW

"Really? Of all the things you could've put in there?"

You look up from your chocolate ice cream, into which you've decided to unceremoniously dump an entire bag of potato chips. "But I don't remember what I used to like with my ice cream! This could've been my favorite, for all I know!"

Kim wrinkles his nose in obvious disgust. "I seriously doubt that, detective," he mumbles, before raising a spoonful of tiramisu to his lips. He hums pleasantly at the taste. "I'm glad we came back here. This tiramisu has certainly redeemed that awful blueberry pie from last time."

"Hey, it's not the baker's fault he didn't account for your ridiculous sweet tooth! Honestly, Kim, shame on you, blaming an honest working-class business owner..." You shake your head sternly, as if telling off a misbehaved child.

DRAMA — You're a terrible actor, but it serves you well here. Kim finds it endearing.

COMPOSURE [Success] - Though his ears flush at the mention of his "sweet tooth"— an aspect of himself he finds silly and immature. He coughs awkwardly and goes back to his tiramisu, a bit too embarrassed to continue the conversation.

As you often do when silence lulls between the two of you for any stretch of time, you find yourself saying, "Hey. Hey, Kim. Tell me a secret, Kim."

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "Honestly, I'd think you knew enough about me by now."

"Never! As long as there are still things left to know, I'm going to keep asking."

EMPATHY — He gives you an odd look when you say that. I shouldn't be surprised by his curiosity anymore, he thinks, or his sincerity, for that matter. But sometimes...

He clears his throat. "Yes, well. Sometimes, it's good to not know everything."

You gasp playfully. "Fuck you, that's, like, the most mysterious thing you could've said! Now I want to know even more!"

"That's too bad," Kim says, sipping demurely at a cup of hot chocolate. "Since I won't be telling you."

With a frustrated groan, you take a bite of your ice cream. "Oh, hey! It's actually not bad!" As you tear into your dessert, Kim merely rolls his eyes with an unmistakable fondness.

SUGGESTION — Psst, Harry, over here. You're always asking Kim for secrets, but you don't really seem to get anywhere. Why not just ask us?

I can do that?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Success] — Oh yes, Harry-boy. Give me a turn, I could tell you all about speedfreak Kitsuragi over here. Did you know he pierced his—

VOLITION [Success] — No no, nothing like that. Please, not when he's right there. I don't trust our ability to keep our face neutral. No offense, Composure.

COMPOSURE — None taken. Trust me, I know better than anyone, it's a shitshow in here.

LOGIC — You could ask another one of us, though. I'm sure there's some sort of reasonable compromise here, it doesn't have to be inappropriate sexual fantasies or nothing.

You take another bite of ice cream, trying your best not to look like a deranged lunatic staring off into space. Kim doesn't look too concerned, though— he's used to this, and he appreciates the moments of mutual quiet, too. So what sort of things could you guys tell me? Which one of you should I pick?

SHIVERS [Success] — I could tell you about his life. I witnessed his childhood firsthand: summers and birthdays, mostly spent poor and alone. If you wanted, I could tell you things even he doesn't know— about the parents he never met, two young communard revolutionaries in love. I could tell you how they were killed, and who killed them, too.

SAVOIR FAIRE — Okay, that sounds like a huge bummer. Do me a favor and don't pick that one.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Success] — I could tell you about how he organizes his thoughts, lists and compartments and pages upon pages of notes, both in his notebook and, when it's not available, in his head. I've spent a lot of time pondering what it's like in there, and I think I've got an accurate guess.

INTERFACING — I like this one. It's not quite as interesting as ms. war-and-bloodshed's idea, but it's still good. Besides, learning how Kim approaches problem-solving might actually make us a better detective.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — I could tell you how he feels about you. As a partner, of course, anything more than that is beyond my area of expertise.

EMPATHY [Success?] — …

Woah, what's up with that?

EMPATHY [Failure] — I could tell you more. But... No, I'm sorry, I don't think I will. I can't be the one to show you the inner workings of his heart, I just can't, not when I know exactly how badly he wants to remain unseen. It would hurt too much.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — That's too bad. But hey, my offer's still on the table—

VOLITION [Success] — Behave.

1. — Turn to Kim. "The voices are currently offering to explain all your secrets to me, by the way. So there." (Do not say this???)

2. — [Shivers — Legendary] Tell me about Kim's life.

-1 Way too depressing to think about on some random Sunday

3. — [Visual Calculus — Legendary] Tell me about the way Kim thinks.

+1 Actually useful?? You know, for our job???

-> 4. — [Esprit De Corps — Godly] Tell me about how Kim feels about me. As a partner.

+1 Professional rapport

+1 More than professional (you guys are pretty good friends by now, right?)

+2 You still remember the way his voice shook as you bled out in his arms

5. — [Empathy — Impossible] No, I want more than that. Tell me more.

-3 It's not happening, Harry. I won't do it.

6. — [Electrochemistry — Heroic] No, no, tell me more about this "speedfreak Kitsuragi" stuff.

-1 Volition is disappointed in you

+1 You really do want to know, though

7. — Actually, maybe I shouldn't do this. (Leave)

HALF-LIGHT [Success] — WAIT! Don't pick that one, please. It's dangerous. It's going to hurt.

REACTION SPEED — What? That one seems like one of the less dangerous options, actually. What are you freaking out for?

ENDURANCE — Ugh, don't listen to that thing. It's just a mangy little dog that jumps at its own shadow.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — The shadow is dark and cold, and it wraps itself around the one you love, its fingers coated in yellowish-white grains of sand, but it will turn him blue. You cannot save him.

RHETORIC — ... What are you even talking about? There's no sand here. We're in Central Jamrock, not Iilmara.

1. — This is getting weird. (Pick a different one.)

-> 2. — No, I'll stick with my first choice.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Oh, no... Harry, I'm so sorry. This was supposed to be the safe option. Just a quick peek into his psyche to see what he thinks of working with you. If I'd known it would be something like this, I never would've...

What, does he hate me or something?

EMPATHY [Success] — Don't say that. Please don't say that... You have no idea how much pain I'm in. You have no idea how wrong you are.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — When Pryce first assigned him as your partner, after a few weeks of begging, you heard Lieutenant Kitsuragi mumble something under his breath. You weren't paying attention at the time, too excited to care, but you did hear him, in the back of your mind:

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Success] — "I won't live through the death of another partner," he'd whispered to himself.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Success] — He'd briefly glanced back at you as he'd said it, almost nervous, his small smile tensing at the corners like he'd suddenly had to fake it.

LOGIC [Success] — He wasn't saying he didn't want to be your partner. Clearly he did, because he is.

EMPATHY [Success] — It was worse than that, so much worse... A promise to himself.

INLAND EMPIRE — You cannot save him.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — He would only do it if you were gone. Gone to somewhere you'd never come back from. Gone to somewhere you wouldn't be able to stop him.

[-1 MORALE]

HALF-LIGHT — I told you it was going to hurt.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is a practical man, more concerned with privacy and efficiency than anything else. He would never drive his beloved Kineema into a ravine, for example— instead, three bottles sit in a lonely box in his bathroom cabinet: cimetidine, metoclopramide, and sodium nitrite.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Success] — The first two are just over-the counter drugs. Their only purpose is to counteract the side effects of the latter.

PAIN THRESHOLD — A small comfort he would allow himself in death.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — None of them have been opened since their purchase three years ago, but if ever he felt the need, he would not hesitate to do it.

EMPATHY [Success] — No. He would hesitate. Even if just for a minute, the weight of it all would be difficult for him to shake. Kim Kitsuragi is a man with an incredibly strong survival instinct; it's just how he's wired. In that moment, he would feel as though time itself was slowing down as he struggled to move through the thick miasma of dread and fear, like swimming upriver through the Esperance. But it would not be enough to stop him.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Success] — His extremities would be blue in minutes. He would be dead within hours, at most.

[-1 MORALE]

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Success] — You wonder, did his hands shake when he purchased these supplies? Did his eyes shine with the thin film of unshed tears when he packed them away in that cabinet? Did he even let himself cry?

COMPOSURE — Or was he as calm as ever, save for the slightest difference in the set of his jaw?

VOLITION — Does it even matter? Either way, he is not nearly as sane as you believe him to be.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — Don't feel too bad for not noticing. He prefers it that way.

EMPATHY [Success] — And do you want to know the worst part? He's happy. He really is, Harry. He loves being your partner and he loves being here, with you. This is just what happiness looks like to him. How it's always looked, since...

INTERFACING [Success] — He refuses to let himself be happy without an exit strategy. One foot out the door. A finger on the eject button. Just in case.

[-1 MORALE]

HALF-LIGHT — Whatever fancy thing you want to call it won't change the fact that he's in DANGER. We need to help him!

EMPATHY — No. You were never meant to see this. Any of this.

SUGGESTION — And besides, what exactly are you going to say? Accusing a random person of wanting to kill themselves, specifically of wanting to kill themselves in response to you dying— it would make you look like a delusional egomaniac at best.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Lieutenant Kitsuragi is NOT a random person! He's our partner. What even are we if we can't protect our own partner?!

HAND-EYE COORDINATION [Failure] — He asks himself the same question, every single night.

[!] [MORALE CRITICAL] [!]

EMPATHY — Stop it! Please, you're hurting me! I can't take this anymore—

INLAND EMPIRE [Failure] — YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM, HARRIER. YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM YOU CAN'T—

"Detective?" Kim is shaking your shoulder, looking a little worried. "Apologies. I usually don't interrupt you when you're..." Communing with the voices in your head, he doesn't say. "... But you started crying. Here, I have some magnesium— you can take it with your potato chip ice cream abomination." He smiles a little, and you know he's just trying to cheer you up.

SUGGESTION — And because you are a pathetically easy creature, it works on you.

[+1 MORALE]

Grinning back at him even as tears continue to well up in your eyes, you down the magnesium with a spoonful of your ice cream. The chips are soggy by now, and it tastes much worse than before, but the magnesium does its job.

Kim huffs a quiet laugh at the disgruntled look on your face. "That bad, huh? Well, I won't say 'I told you so'."

-> 1. — [Volition — Impossible] Stay calm.

2. — [Pain Threshold — Legendary] Punch yourself in the mouth. You won't be able to say anything if you're missing teeth.

[CHECK FAILURE]

VOLITION [Failure] — I'm sorry. It was never going to happen.

"Kim, y-you wouldn't—" Your fragile smile crumples like wet paper as a sob wrenches itself from your chest.

Immediately, Kim's eyes widen, and his hand tightens on your shoulder. Protective. "Harry," he says, softly, too softly, almost like it's not something you were meant to hear at all. Then: "We should get out of here. I was planning to let you stay at mine anyways. Hopefully my couch won't start calling you names, like last time— I was sure to give it a stern talking-to, you know," he adds, forcing levity into his voice.

EMPATHY [Success] — He cares about you so much. It's going to break you.

INLAND EMPIRE [Failure] — We can't save him. I'm sorry, we just can't, there's nothing we can—

HALF-LIGHT — nopleasenonononono—

VOLITION [Success] — You're wrong. Both of you are wrong. We're not helpless, and he's not hopeless. There is still time to fix this.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Go with him. You know what you need to do.

"Of course," you croak out, wiping your face with a napkin. "Thank you, Kim."

—

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — The next morning, long after his partner has left, Lieutenant Kitsuragi stumbles out of the shower and puts on his glasses. He opens the bathroom cabinet to look for his razor, so he can shave the patchy stubble under his chin— only to blink in surprise when he sees that a familiar box, tucked away in the back, is open and empty.

EMPATHY [Success] — He feels so many things at once that it's almost as if he feels nothing at all.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Success] — But it's not nothing, is it? It can't be nothing. If it was nothing, it wouldn't hurt this much. If it was nothing, there wouldn't be any hope.

EMPATHY [Success] — He allows himself to cry. Quiet and subdued, but even still, it's the first time he's cried in far too long. And it's awful and cathartic and miserable and furious and so, so afraid, but if you were to turn the lights off, you might see the tiniest spark in his lungs, the faint glow of something terrifying he can't quite smother. The ghost of his younger self pounding its fists against his ribcage, screaming as if begging for its life—

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — LOVED LOVED WE ARE LOVED WE ARE WANTED WE ARE CARED FOR WE CAN BE SAFE AND HAPPY AND LOVED—

SHIVERS [Success] — Staring blankly at an empty cardboard box in his bathroom, a 44-year-old man lets himself cry openly for the first time in approximately two thousand, one hundred and ninety-six days. After all, he reasons, no one is there. No one can see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and sliding down his face.

EMPATHY [Success] — No one except you.

[darling-stardust]

[uncannytimecandy]

dude... CHILL!!!!!

[basket-of-radiants]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Oh my GOD that Leona on the novel cover 😩 You pick up on what I’m putting down right, Raven?? Please tell me I’m not the only one…The face? The hair? The hand held out to the viewer? The staff on his shoulders? The girls (boobs) are hanging out there too!! 🤤

[Referencing this post! … I think! Maybe!]

I’ll be honest with ya, chief 🧍‍♂️ I haven’t looked at the light novel covers all too closely (until now, I guess?).

*takes a look*

…

*sighs and pops the cap off a red marker*

*caps the red marker again*

No further comments, your honor. I now humbly request that you sentence him to 365 days of community service for the crime of public indecency.

P.S. Is it just me or does his hair look too grey toned here… Almost like he caught the curse of his nuis that keep getting his colors wrong 💀