#which is good i guess? that it's not associated with that violence for younger people?

[coquelicoq]

bitch, noun: this is a misogynistic slur to me and i hate how casually and widely it's used, though i recognize and respect that other women may have a relationship with it that is different from mine.

bitch, interjection: this has become a more or less neutral way of expressing alignment and/or a term of affection in many dialects, but i don't use it myself. too close to the noun.

bitch, verb: clearly derived from the noun and with negative rather than neutral or affectionate connotations. despite this, the verb bitch doesn't really bother me for some reason. however, i still mostly avoid using it because otherwise i feel like a total hypocrite.

bitchin', adjective: absolutely baller word. 10/10. no notes.

[3liza]

saw someone talking about "scary dog privilege" on here today and cant find the post again but i guess it refers to when women are bothered less in public when accompanied by a large dog, and bypassing the quibble i have with calling that a privilege, i can absolutely 100% confirm it is true.

i was approached by a 30s-40s single white man wearing the Dipshit Uniform (guy in a baseball cap who looks like he drives an f-150 and has voting opinions i would not agree with) on the street the other day and all he had to talk about was Churchgrim. that he was VERY large, looked like a good boy, obedient, what breed is he, etc. this is the only interaction i get from men in public anymore unless i do not have the dog with me, at which point it goes back to the usual bullshit. however it has to be an actual scary-looking dog and you have to visibly have control of it. this is not why i got a large dog, it's just a side benefit. it probably has a lot to do with the masculine cultural coding of any large dog breed that isnt a poodle or a sight hound more than it does the actual violence potential of the dog, but those two things are related. notably, not a SINGLE man has tried to mansplain dog care or handling to me for five years. not one. i cant explain this because its not like being visible capable at a task or skill will stop them in any other circumstance, including when you are holding a literal firearm.

i remember reading some stupid op-ed from some idiot woman who got a dog "for protection" on her jogs and was baffled when men were not intimidated by her golden fucking retriever (although they should have been; goldens bite a lot, statistically, probably explicitly because people do not take them seriously)

the fact that men's body language and tone of voice has changed so drastically from before when i had a 90lbs black shepherd mix standing next to me is pretty damning tbh. all people both intentionally and unintentionally modulate their communication styles around that type of dog to display respect, interest, or fear, experienced dog people can be identified instantly by their comfort and confidence with the dog, and people with dog phobia are the opposite. the dog instinctively puts himself between me and approaching strangers, probably not out of a defensive instinct in grim's case but because strangers are interesting and he wants to be closer to the object of interest, but the physical barrier this creates is a great benefit to me.

specifically, men talk to me much much much more like they are speaking to another man when the dog is there. part of that is men are often genuinely interested in knowing information about a large dog of grim's type and are not using the dog as an excuse to flirt with or harass me. grim has a phenotype that is familiar to certain experiences within the united states as a "porch dog" or "yard dog" or "farm dog" that everyone who has lived in rural areas has usually known or owned a few notable examples of, and thats a general class of dog that tends to be good at listening and responding to humans and has a lot of opportunities to display intelligence or good judgment, so people with rural experience tend to associate him with good memories. he's also "handsome" in the dog sense because he got to keep his balls until he was 3, on the advice of his vet, and as a result he developed nice-looking musculature and a big thick neck which you dont get on city dogs much. he gets a lot of positive attention from older ladies as well, who you'd think would be afraid of being knocked over, but who are always just besotted with him for reasons i havent quite figured out yet. maybe they like seeing a youngish woman with a dog like this, i know that i feel good and happy when i see younger women and girls in situations where they seem safe or protected to me. i think to myself, "i don't have to worry about her" and i feel relief. observing young women and girls often triggers anxiety for women who are even just a few years older than they are, out of pure empathy. its one reason it's so important to be kind to younger people than you are.

anyway it's damning to the men because of course men don't think rationally that the dog would understand and be offended or angry if they sexually harassed or disrespected me. but they are still on their best behavior because the dog is an implicit threat that i can defend myself. and perhaps not only did they have nothing real to discuss with me before now because they assumed we had nothing in common and that i was an idiot or not human, but they are watching themselves carefully to only express normal human civility. i dont get that from random men without the dog. mostly (not entirely but mostly) i get either casual disrespect/disregard, or outright sexual harassment. when i was younger and less experienced with men and had fewer cycles of these interactions, i was completely unaware of how disrespectful these approaches or comments were, which is the interpretation i can see less-experienced women making now, even if they're my age. and when i was 20, my 30 year old friends seemed pathologically misandrist and defensive to me. it was purely the difference in our actual mileage. that sucks man. wish we could just be normal around people and not have to expect the worst constantly.

anyway, good dog

[bleedingredridinghood]

(CW: include personal anecdote regarding the same vein of fandom conflict, mentions the emotional side effects of this kind of drama within fandom spaces, in a way that could be considered graphic, followed up by personal example of how these harmful side effects can present. Goes on to describe how to use writing to recover from trauma, gets a little too philosophical with it, honestly probably not worth the read, but I wrote it, so I'll post it.)

Tbh, this why I don't like being an active part of fandom anymore. Like, I got into MHA when I was younger than class 1A, and yeah, I developed a crush on Bakugou. I was like a year and a half younger than him when that crush first developed, and it's been long standing. I do think of him as being the same age as me, because manga time doesn't work the same as actual time. Even still, I don't wanna be lumped in with people who think a lot of this shit is okay, y'know? While he is 26 by the end of the series, it's still tricky. I don't post a lot of my fics anymore because of that-- most of my fics are fluff, but even still.

And for JJK, Gojo is an adult the whole time, which is honestly such a relief (I mean, I was also already an adult when I got into it). And while, yeah, kinks and fetishes are fine (I guess), some of it still goes to an extent that's concerning. I get if it's a scenario (like roleplay or something, idfk), but without the addendum of aftercare, it's hella dicey.

Idk, it just makes a lot of fandom spaces feel unsafe, because someone's either going to forcibly associate you with something that makes you wanna burn your skin off, or you're going to stumble upon something that makes you wanna burn your skin off.

And, like, on a maybe too personal note: as someone who is gray-asexual and mostly sex-repulsed, these things cause a lot of harm!!! Like, A LOT of harm. Maybe I'm just not equipped for how weird people get online (I spend most of my time with people IRL), but I often have to take WEEKS off of being active on various platforms because of how harmful all sides of this can be.

Like, to imply that a character with a Lawful Good, Neutral Good, Chaotic Good, or Lawful Neutral alignment would just be okay with half of the shit people pull??? Is INSANELY out of character, and genuinely should be considered a crackfic.

Please don't get me wrong: writing out your own trauma is an important and wildly effective treatment method used in various trauma-based diagnoses. What people don't mention is this means that somewhere along the way you have to acknowledge that this trauma you experienced was not only something you did not ask for, but was also something BAD!!! Something that SHOULD. NOT. HAVE. HAPPENED. TO. YOU. The point of writing it is not to romanticize it, but to process it so you can see the situation rightly, and begin the process of recovering from it!!!

Most of my trauma involved a lot of really painful decision making, torture, violence, homelessness, etc. Writing about that and all the emotions from it help me grasp what I feel and process what was actually my fault and what wasn't. It's made me a more compassionate, happier person, with a pretty lively sense of humor. This is not in spite of the disturbing nature of what I've survived, but because I now understand what happened and how I can use that understanding to grow from the wounds I carry.

You cannot do that if you keep romanticizing all the blood you've spilt. It isn't lovely. It isn't glittering. It isn't exhilarating. It's just blood. It's just red. It's sticky as it dries and crumbly once fully dry. It smells like salt and iron and humidity. After awhile, it smells too sweet, like Splenda mixed with Robitussin. The blood you have spilt is not beautiful. The beautiful part is you. By romanticizing ones trauma, you dissuade yourself from that truth, and I don't know why anyone would be okay allowing others to walk that kind of deceptively cruel path.

The amount of incest, noncon, and pedophilic jjk smut content is getting out of hand.

"Just scroll if you don't like it!" - this doesn't negate the fact they're posting disgusting scenarios. They're targeting an audience of people who should seek therapy. That kind of shit is not okay.

It's like saying "scroll part a zoophile account on Twitter if u don't like it." See how stupid it sounds?

This Fandom is slowly becoming one i regret being in because of just how disgusting people are becoming. Come on guys, do better.

It's okay to have kinks and fetishes, but that doesn't mean they're okay. It's not okay to sexualize minors, it's not okay to sexualizw little space, it's not okay to sexualize r//pe! I get dubcon, but noncon? That's literally just nonconsensual sex.

Anyways. Rant over. Do better, people.

[starshapedkookie]

Southpaw

pairing: jungkook x female reader (ft. a little sprinkle of namjoon)

genre: childhood friends to lovers, boxer jungkook, college/frat au

includes: swearing, angst, mentions of blood and violence, pining, smut (public/private, unprotected sex, hair pulling, jungkook is big guys, duh), alcohol, smoking weed, jungkook seems like an asshole but he’s really not, OC having a crisis every two seconds, some fluff here and there as well, also this takes place over many months just saying if time gets confusing

premise: Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

word count: 30k (she’s a monster sorry guys) 

quick note: this is my first story back in a year(?) give or take some weeks!! kind of nervous to post & not sure if my writing has declined in anyway but nonetheless here is the beast that has been sitting on my computer since April 2019!! quick disclaimer I don’t know much about boxing so if I get stuff wrong - I apologize!! please enjoy & let me know what you think ❤️happy 7 years BTS!

recommended songs for reading: pray (JRY, RuthAnne), mushroom chocolate (6lack, quin), hallucinate (dua lipa), wus good/curious (partynextdoor)

_____

The evening was slow—after all, it was only a Wednesday. You had just finished serving a table of two—a young man and young woman—presumably on a midweek date. You didn’t recognize either of them which wasn’t surprising considering the campus grossed about 20,000 people. You began to wipe down tables out of boredom, glancing at the clock every two minutes hoping it would jump to when your shift was over in forty-five minutes. Thankfully, you didn’t have much work to do when you got home, but you are wishing to get in bed before 10:30 to get a full eight hours of sleep for your lectures tomorrow—something you had not had in about two months. Most days, like today, you were running on five hours of sleep and five cups of coffee. It wasn’t healthy, you knew that much, but it’s how you had to live your life. Your schedule was too demanding to hit the snooze button multiple times. You had shit to do—and getting your degree was the top priority.

“Y/N,” your coworker, Mark, called your name from behind of the counter.

“Yeah?” You respond.

“Will you come help me clean this out?” He asks you and you nod diligently.

“Of course,” you say, dropping your current task of wiping already clean tables. Mark was the one student that worked here you could stand to be around. He was very much like you in the sense that school came before anything—he too was on a full academic scholarship. He worked here before you, but he made you feel the most comfortable out of everyone. You would consider him a close friend at this point.

The espresso machine was a pain in the ass to clean and did call for two people most of the time. Besides, you would rather smell the remnants of coffee beans than the harsh chemicals of bleach gliding across a table.

“You have much work to do after your shift?” He asks you.

“No, thank god,” you shake your head, “I got most of my shit done between my classes today. You?”

“I have to write a ten page paper by midnight,” he sighs, “And guess how many pages I have started.”

You give him a short glance, “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say zero.”

“Damn right,” he smiles. A short silence between you two ensues before he speaks again, “Oh! Did I tell you I’m graduating early?”

“What? Really?” You look at him and an excited grin plays on his face. “When?”

“Yeah, I spoke to my advisor this afternoon and turns out, the classes I’m taking this semester is all I need for my degree,” he speaks with a relieved tone.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” you say genuinely, “I wish that was me,” you give out a small chuckle.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to keep stressing over this hell-hole,” he laughs, “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

“I feel you on that,” you say, “I’m proud of you nonetheless, you’ve worked your ass off dealing with this scholarship.”

He gives you a small smile in return but it’s broken by the bell ringing from the door, signaling a new customer has decided to come in. Your eyes break from Mark’s and glance over to the door, your head doing a double take.

Your mouth goes dry when you see them—more specifically—him. 

No, it wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him outside of a frat party on the weekends. And truly, it was your first time getting a good look at him in awhile. You felt nervous—though you had no reason to be nervous. You had known him since long before your days as university students, but since you weren’t plastered in this scenario, looking at him seemed more like a chore than ever.

“You want me to get their table?” Mark asks you and you look back at him.

“No, I got it,” you say, throwing down the cleaning cloth, wiping your hands on your apron.

The small group of boys are too busy in their own conversation to see you approaching them. You clear your throat before grabbing some menus off of the podium.

“Hey guys, welcome,” your voice breaks their conversation. The three men your age turn to you all at once and a small smile erupts from one of them.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you worked here?” Taehyung—another person you knew all too well—smiles and speaks brightly

“Yup,” you say simply, “Just been here a little over a month,” you explain pressing the best smile you can muster up. “C’mon, I’ll get you seated and get your order in.”

You lead them towards the back of the small restaurant, seating them in a booth. As they follow you from behind, you can feel their eyes burning into your back and you feel like screaming at the top of your lungs. They sit down and you pass out the menus.

“What would you guys like to drink?” You ask, putting a hand on your hip.

“I’ll take a coke,” Hobi—you remember his name easily as you see him around in a few of your classes.

“Coke as well,” Taehyung says.

“Jungkook?” His name rolls off your tongue and it sounds foreign. You couldn’t remember the last time you had said it, let alone to his face. His brown eyes meet yours and he clears his throat.

“I’ll just take a water,” he finally speaks, his gaze breaking just as fast as it met yours.

“I’ll get those right out,” a grimace spreads on your face and you turn on your heels to fulfill their drink orders. You hadn’t expected the encounter to be so awkward and have so much tension—but what did you expect?

Your relationship with Jeon Jungkook was a strange one to say the least. You had known him longer than anyone you associated with—you meet each other at the tender age of eight in elementary school. You remember that day so vividly.

You had been assigned a seat right beside of him the first day of school. He kept his eyes away from you. Being the energetic child you were, you were expecting him to introduce himself but—he never did. It actually took being in school a whole week to get him to talk to you. You nudged his arm with your elbow and his eyes meet yours for the first time. You smiled at him, “I like your shirt,” to which he responded a small, “Thank you.” He picked at his nails and you smiled at him again, “I’m Y/N,” though he would already know that sitting beside of you. “I’m Jungkook,” he spoke again with a shy smile. That day would change both of your lives—all thanks to you and your mouth that couldn’t shut the hell up.

Four years later, at the age of twelve, Jungkook was your best friend. For four years, he was the one person you had came to all about your problems—he as well. The two of you would complain equally about school, he would complain about his older brother picking on him, you would complain about your younger sister bothering you nonstop—the two of you were more alike in more ways than you could imagine. Despite getting older and more different, you and Jungkook shared the same friend group. You had met a girl named Kim Jennie during a pre-algebra class and Jungkook had met a lively kid named Kim Taehyung—no they weren’t related but you often joked about it. It was nice having another close friend instead of just having Jungkook—especially a girl. You and Jennie had more in common than you and Jungkook and Jungkook and Taehyung and more in common than you two. But—the four of you clicked and you spent nearly everyday with each other.

At sixteen, a lot of stuff had changed. Yes, you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jennie had all remained best friends, but high school was definitely not the same as middle school. You and Jennie joined the tennis team, Jungkook and Taehyung joined the soccer team—Jungkook also joining the baseball team—which kept the four of you more separated than you would have liked. The four of you all sat together at lunch each day, but as each day passed, something felt different with Jungkook. And then, halfway through your second year of high school, the news broke that Jungkook had a girlfriend—a cute girl named Yuna—who was actually older than him by a year. You felt indifferent about it. He didn’t speak to you as much as he used to and he would ditch you, Jennie and Taehyung to hang out with her. It didn’t bother Jennie or Taehyung as much as it bothered you—but then again—you had known him since you were eight and it felt weird not being Jungkook’s number one girl. You hated to say it—but you were jealous and you had no idea why.

Two years had passed, the four of you all eighteen and fully legal now. It was the end of your last year of high school and you could not be more ready to leave. Growing up through high school together, the thought of all of you going to the same university was a dream. The four of you were excited to move on to new things. Jungkook and Yuna had broken up a few months prior, not being able to work through the distance of her being away at college. Jungkook soon started molding back to how he was before—texting you throughout the day, complaining, just being Jungkook—you were happy, happier than when he was with Yuna. It was May when you had received the news that you had been offered a full ride academic scholarship. You cried and cried tears of joy—finally busting your ass for so long had paid off. Jungkook was so proud of you, though he didn’t outwardly show it, the way he looked at you when you had told him was all you needed. Taehyung suggested it—a small celebration of sorts for you—a.k.a. the four of you getting absolutely plastered in his basement. Taehyung had managed to steal some alcohol from his parents and before the four of you knew it, beers had been downed and half a bottle of tequila had been drank. You were laying on the floor, giggling at everything Jennie did, dancing around the room with a bottle of vodka in hand. Jungkook had laid down beside of you, his eyes boring deep onto you. You crane your neck and give him a small smile, not realizing how little space was between the two of you. Jungkook supports himself on an elbow and it was then you had realized how handsome Jungkook had actually become. He spent so long away from you when he was dating Yuna, you didn’t realize how much he had grown into his features. That night—was singlehandedly the best and worst night of your life.

You had no idea what came over you, but you stood up throwing out your hand for Jungkook to take. He grabbed it with no hesitation, him towering over you as your chests touched and it was the closest the two of you had ever been. Jungkook had looked over to Jennie and Taehyung, still drinking and acting stupid, before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the closest bathroom and shutting the door. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you grip his shirt tightly. The next few moments are a blur—Jungkook kisses you—actually kisses you. He gripped your waist tightly, pushing you against the door. A small whine emitted from your lips as he pulled away and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He kissed you again, pulling your thigh up to rest in his hand. This was wrong—so wrong in so many ways. But neither of you stopped until a bang from the other side of the door broke the steamy makeup session.

That night changed everything between you two. Neither of you talked about it ever again. Despite being so drunk to the point of blacking out—you remember every detail—and so did he. That summer, you and Jungkook grew apart. And it was the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Now, at twenty-one, almost through university, you had interacted with Jungkook only a handful of times. You had studied together a few times your freshman year, but after your first year, you could count on your hands how many times you had seen each other. Most of the time, only seeing him at parties with other girls hanging off of him. It was painful to see. Even after 3 years of a drunken kiss in Taehyung’s bathroom, it hurt more than ever to see Jungkook with other girls—but at the same time you didn’t care. You had moved on and so did he. You two were now strangers but your life was good—you didn’t need him like you used to think. And he seemingly didn’t either.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Mark nudged you out of your obnoxiously long reverie and you jumped out of your skin. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You look down and realize that you haven’t taken the three of them their drinks, the ice now watering them down to shit.

“Y-yeah, I’m just tired is all,” you begin to pour out the drinks to get new ones before Mark stops you.

“Here, I’ll handle them,” he says, “You can go home early, it’s fine,” he smiles.

“A-are you sure?” You ask him, not wanting to leave him by himself.

“Yeah, it’s about closing time anyways. Just head out, I’ll close,” he nods with a smile and you can’t help but to throw you arms around him.

“Jesus, thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you one day,” you tell him pulling away. You wash your hands quickly and throw off your apron.

“Get home safe,” he says and you tell him the same before grabbing your bag. You glance one last time to the table in the back and unexpectedly, Jungkook is staring at you. It makes your breathing hitch and you turn around on your heel quickly, not wanting to linger on his gaze longer than you need to.

_____

The weekend comes slower than you would like, but it’s Friday which means one thing—time to go out and get a much needed dose of social life. You and Jennie had found yourself at the Beta Tau Sigma crush party at their fraternity house that evening.

“Here you go, m’lady,” Namjoon comes into your peripheral vision, handing you a drink he specially made just for you.

“Thanks,” you give him a small smile. You take a huge gulp without hesitation—you trusted Namjoon with your life. Not only was he on academic scholarship too, he was also the president of this fraternity which meant if he didn’t act straight—he would face serious consequences. The mix of brains, being ridiculously handsome, and being in a fraternity was a recipe for disaster—he was your type—bonafide. You were his type too which is maybe why the two of you clicked so well, particularly in bed.

“My feet are fucking killing me,” you groan glancing down at your heels, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Namjoon throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“At least you look hot as fuck,” he lips brush against your ear and you give him a glare.

“Isn’t hot kind of a degrading term in today’s world?” You press.

He narrows his eyes at you, “Fine—you look beautiful, cute, sexy—is that better?”

“Much better,” you nod playfully and Namjoon gets bold—pulling you even closer to him for a small peck on your lips. Eyes linger on the two of you but you couldn’t care. So many girls would love to be in your position and you feel lucky to have captivated Namjoon at least for now. Besides, he was good at fucking and you needed stress relief, as did he.

Unsuspecting, Jungkook waltzed his way into the room and he immediately stops when he sees the sight of you and his older brother Namjoon. He had heard rumors about the two of you, which he brushed off—you would never go after someone like Namjoon—oh who is he kidding? You and Namjoon are the same person and it kills Jungkook inwardly. The way Namjoon is nuzzled into your neck and the way you're smiling, giggling to every word he says, makes him feel uncomfortable. You looked so different at parties than how he saw you a few days ago at your work. Your legs looked sexy as fuck in your short black dress, your hair flowed down beautifully as opposed to being thrown up, the way red lipstick painted your mouth made him semi hard. Jesus, how after all this time, does he still think about you like this?

Your eyes break away from Namjoon and your smile falls when they meet a familiar set of doe eyes from across the room. Your breath hitches and Jungkook looks so handsome you want to die. His dark hair is slightly parted, his button up is undone at the top, and his legs fulfill his pants better than any guy here. He downs two shots, not breaking his gaze from you. You feel intimidated by his gaze and presence, despite having seen him at these things multiple times. The only difference is that now—he’s giving you some attention that you weren’t ready for.

Your gaze breaks away from each other when a group of loud boys—including Taehyung as well as Kai, another brother within the fraternity—come rushing into the room, hauling a keg in tow.

“Hyung! Come on,” Taehyung teases drunkenly as they set down the keg. There are many hyung’s for Taehyung in the room to not have specified which one he was talking about, until he deadpans on Namjoon. “Namjoon-hyung, come on!”

Namjoon begins to shake his head in protest, “I’d rather not,” he puts his hands up, keeping his distance from Taehyung, “Gotta keep an eye on this one tonight,” he nudges you and Taehyung’s eyes widen when her realizes it’s actually you, standing beside of his older brother.

“Y/N! Hey! What’s up! Didn’t expect to see you here, especially with this one again,” he narrows his eyes to Namjoon.

“Hi Taehyung,” you give him a small smile.

“Do a keg stand with me?” His eyes bulge out like a puppy dog and your own widens in shock at the question.

“Oh no,” you protest, looking up at Namjoon, “Last time I did a keg stand was freshman year and I said never again,” you explain to him. He gives you a pout.

“Fuck,” Taehyung says, “Well who is gonna do this shit with me then?” He sounds impatient and frustrated.

“Get Jungkook too—he’s been looking over in this direction for too long, give ‘em something to do,” Namjoon says and you look up at him. Did he notice Jungkook looking at you? Shit.

“Hell yeah, that little shit will definitely do it,” Taheyung smirks and yells for Jungkook to come over. Jungkook is preoccupied with a girl before Taehyung breaks his mojo from across the room. Jungkook sees Taehyung and you standing together and he furrows his eyebrows. He excuses himself from his pussy date for the night and saunters his way over towards your direction. You keep your eyes anywhere but Jungkook as he approaches you.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook greets Namjoon, “Y/N,” he says slowly and you tense up. “What do you want Taehyung?” He spits out. He’s clearly buzzed as the attitude coming off of his tongue is stronger than usual.

“Do this fucking keg stand with me pussy,” Taehyung presses and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

“Fuck no,” Jungkook responds and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“Come onnnn,” he drags out, begging his life long best friend to do it.

“Absolutely not, I’ve done it once and I said never again,” Jungkook says and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. Taehyung looks at you and Jungkook and shakes his head.

“I swear you two are the same person in a different body, it’s weird,” Taehyung says, “Your loss,” and Taehyung is soon leaving your side to find someone else to do his proposition.

Jungkook is left standing in front of you and Namjoon in an awkward silence.

“Don’t forget, you’re on clean up duty Jeon,” Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the younger man.

Jungkook groans, “Fine, whatever hyung,” his words run together as he gives you a final glance, “See you later Y/N,” is the last thing he says before he walks away to find the girl he was smooching up prior.

Namjoon gives you a weird look before you are furrowing eyebrows at him, “What?” You ask.

“What’s up with you two?” He asks motioning over to Jungkook.

“What do you mean?” You gulp down your drink hoping to hide the nervousness in your tone.

“Didn’t you two use to be like, best friends or some shit?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, when we were kids,” you chuckle.

Namjoon doesn’t seemed convinced, “I remember you two hanging out a lot during Jungkook's freshman year here, what happened?”

You shrug once again, “People grow apart,” you answer simply, not wanting to go in detail how one kiss basically ruined whatever your friendship was with him. Namjoon suddenly smiles, a dimple showing in his left cheek.

“You know he talks about how hot you are? Not all of the time, but I’ve heard it before,” he laughs and you freeze in your spot.

“What are you trying to prove by interrogating me Joon?” You say with some attitude. That was the least thing you expected to come out of his mouth.

“Hey, I’m just asking questions!” He defends himself, “I just didn’t know if something happened between you two—like you dated or something and shit got weird, I don’t know… just curious,” he chuckles a bit.

You eyes widen and you feel yourself getting warm, “Oh no, we never dated or…anything like that…” you trail off. “We’ve just grown apart, we’re too different now.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you, “According to Taehyung you two are the same person.”

You glare at him, “Get me another drink,” you shove your cup into his hand and see laughs at you before sauntering away for a few seconds. He comes back with a full glass and you down half of it in a few seconds.

“Ew,” you scrunch up your nose. Nice, you think to yourself.

“Maybe you should talk to him? I’m sure having an old friend is nice every once in awhile,” Namjoon continues, clearly interested in your history with Jungkook.

“I have Jennie,” you answer, “Besides, conversation goes both ways. If he really wanted to be friends again, he could talk to me.” You knew that answer was stupid. Jungkook didn’t even speak to you when you were younger. You were the one that initiated the friendship, not him, and you knew that.

“Whatever you say space cowboy,” Namjoon draws out and you give him a glare.

“Did you just quote Kacey Musgraves?” You ask with a small smile on your face.

“Fuck yeah I did,” he smirks, “She’s a gay icon are you kidding me, I’m obsessed with her.”

“Joonie, you’re not even gay,” you laugh.

“So? I love anyone who supports gay rights! Don’t discriminate my quotes!” He defends himself and you cannot help but laugh at him.

“Let’s go dance,” you grab his hand and pull him out of the kitchen onto the main dance floor. Namjoon was perhaps one of the more attractive people you’ve met here in your four years. He oozed sex appeal and charisma, which is why anytime he wanted to hang out or take you to a party—you obliged. If it meant getting in his bed at the end of the night, wearing the heels was worth it.

Namjoon puts his hands on your waist and the two of you dance to music in the crowded dance floor. Namjoon grabs a bottle of liquor from one of his other brothers who you have never met before and the two of you share a nice gulp of the cheap—but very strong—vodka.

You haven’t had too much to drink but you know if you drink anymore, you will not make it back to your apartment. You push the bottle away from you and turn to face Namjoon. His brown eyes stare into yours with a glassy, tipsy appearance, and he smirks at you.

“What?” You question him as his grip gets tighter on you.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you looked hot,” he says smoothly and you roll your eyes yet again.

“How sweet,” you grumble, biting down on your bottom lip. Without a warning, he leans in and pecks your lips gently. The alcohol in your veins surges through you as you lean back in and close the gap. Even in your heels, you still have to crane your neck some to fully reach his stature. His hands grip your waist tightly and you tug at his light brown locks, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

He presses himself into you a little bit harder and you can tell he wants you, his hands gripping one at your waist and the other one in your hair. Everything around you goes blank was it only feels like the two of you in the room together. Unfortunately, your moment is ruined when someone bumps into the two of you, knocking you apart. Namjoon steadies you and he glares at the two girls that ran into you.

“You want to get out of here?” Namjoon says into your ear, his breath fanning over your neck sending chills down you body.

“Yeah,” you nod a little too excitedly and he grabs your hand pulling you away from everyone. Namjoon is taking you up the stairs before someone calls out your name.

“Y/N!” You turn around in Namjoon’s grip to find Jennie holding onto the railing of the stairs, swaying back and forth drunkenly.

“Oh god,” you mutter.

“Is she okay?” Namjoon asks as he follows behind you back down the stairs. No, in fact, she looks terrible.

“Jennie, what’s up? I thought you were with Suzy?” You ask her and her face scowls.

“I was, but then… he showed up,” Jennie says, knowing exactly who she is talking about, “And he brought another girl with him! Y/N, what’s wrong with me? Am I not good enough for him?” Jennie is rambling as tears began to flow down her face. You look at Namjoon as he assesses the situation.

“I-I can get an Uber for her, if you’d like?” Namjoon offers and you nod.

“Please?” You beg and Namjoon grabs your hand squeezing it reassuringly before walking away to get the car.

“Jennie, come on, snap out of it,” you tell her and she continues to sob in your arms.

“Y/N, I don’t get it, I love him and he says he loves me but he does this shit all of the time,” she rambles.

“I know, I know,” you try to calm her down, “Jennie your drunk right now, but you’re so much better than him. I know you don’t realize it, but you are—“

“He makes me feel like shit,” Jennie sighs and you cradle your friend. Unfortunately, Jennie doesn’t have the best taste in men and she finds herself stuck in toxic situations she can’t get out of. You wish you could help more then you do but when Jennie is drunk, it’s hard to get anything through to her.

“Come on, let’s go to the bathroom,” you pull her up before she starts fighting you.

“I don’t need to use the bathroom though,” she pouts.

“Well, you might, let’s go,” you manage to hold her up and get to a bathroom in a hallway that isn’t too crowded. You reach for the handle only to be disappointed that it’s locked. Great.

You beat on the door with your free hand, “Hurry up in there! I have a crisis hanging off of my arm!”

“Hey, don’t call me that you bitch,” Jennie frowns and you roll your eyes, knowing she won’t remember any of this in the morning. You beat on the door again and again and again and finally, someone unlocks it and opens it fully.

The sight makes your eyes widen and your body heat up on fire. In front of you stands Jungkook against the counter zipping up his pants and the girl he was with earlier standing from her knees, wiping her mouth with a smirk. She leaves the bathroom, leaving you standing there with Jennie alone. When his eyes meet yours, his face goes ghostly pale. His mouth parts open and he feels like crawling into a hole to die.

“Y/N, Jennie?” Is all that comes from his mouth.

“Move Jungkook,” you say sternly and he moves to make room for you two in the bathroom.

“Uh, do you need any—“

“Leave Jungkook, I don’t need any help,” you say frustrated at the sight you just witnessed. You don’t know why you felt angry at him. You knew that he slept around like most fraternity boys—but to see him after getting sucked off in a bathroom—was new territory. Not only did it bring up the memory of you and him back in Taehyung’s bathroom all those years ago, it made you physically sick to know that you were just a pawn for him then. Who are you trying to kid? You were nothing to him. Once he figured out what his dick was used for, that’s all he cared about. Christ, you say to yourself, fuck him.

Jungkook leaves the two of you alone and within seconds, Jennie is over the toilet hurling her entire stomach up. You hold her hair back as she heaves into the toilet, trying not to gag yourself.

“Y/N,” she mumbles, “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, just keep it in the toilet please,” you say looking away at the sight.

Thankfully, Namjoon appears at the door. “The Uber is here,” he announces.

“Come on, we’re going to get you home,” you tell her, wiping her mouth with some toilet paper.

“Home?” She asks, “Thank god.”

Namjoon grabs her other side as the two of you carry her outside into the fresh air. You have to admit, the fresh air as sobered you up slightly. You spot the car waiting up front and Namjoon opens the door for Jennie.

“Thank you so much,” you tell Namjoon as he helps Jennie into the car.

“It’s seriously not a problem,” he smiles, “You should go with her,” he suggests and you feel your heart drop.

“A-are you sure?” You ask, subtle disappointment in your tone.

“Yeah, it’s fine—we’ll pick up another time,” he gives you a wink and you smile back.

“Okay, thanks again.”

You load into the back of the Uber with Jennie and you just pray that she doesn’t hurl in the car, for the sake of you and the Uber driver’s car. You were not about to pay the $200 fee for puke in the backseat. 

_____

The next morning comes all too quickly in your deep sleep. When you wake up, you are not expecting Jennie to be in your bed with you. You had nearly forgotten she refused to sleep in her own bed last night, therefore you having to give in to her wishes of sleeping with you. Thankfully, you don’t feel like you have too bad of a hangover. For Jennie though, you know she will probably be in bed all day with a bottle of Tylenol at her bedside.

You check your phone and your eyes nearly burst from your head. It’s 1:07 PM.

“Fuck,” you groan to yourself. You did not need to sleep this late considering you absolutely needed to study for your exams on Monday. Not only was it an exam—it was your midterm exams in your human sciences and financial analytics classes, two classes that were kicking your ass. The longer you laid in your bed, meant the longer you were losing time to cram in your studying. You swig the sheets and blankets off of you to find yourself still in your party dress from last night. You grab a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your wardrobe before heading to the bathroom.

Your appearance makes you shudder when you seeing yourself in the mirror. You didn’t even take off your makeup, mascara and lipstick stains spread out on your face. Now it was time to really pray that you wouldn’t breakout from the old layer of foundation on your face. You grab a makeup wipe to get the gunk off of yourself before you step into an insanely hot shower.

You manage to shower quickly, scrubbing your body and face off of any stench left of you from last night. You step out, moisturizing each crevice that you can reach before you throw on your clothes. You feel 200% better now that you have showered and you can hear footsteps coming down from the hallway. Jennie appears at the bathroom door rubbing her eyes harshly.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” you comment and she stretches out her limbs, her dress hiked up far up her legs where her underwear is showing.

“Ugh!” She groans loudly, “My head is pounding. What the fuck happened last night?”

“There’s some medicine out in the kitchen,” you say as you follow her out into your living room and kitchen area. She goes immediately to the medicine cabinet and downs two pills with ease.

“Where are you going?” She asks as you began to gather up your school work into your book-bag.

“I have to study,” you tell her and she closes her eyes again, the sun being too harsh for the light.

“It’s Saturday Y/N,” she says obviously.

“I know,” you zip up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “But I have two midterms Monday—I can’t make below a B or I can get in trouble with the dean,” you explain and she nods, her sleepy gaze staring at you.

“Well, have fun. I’ll be here—dying,” she grins and you salute her off, leaving your shared apartment to go to the campus library.

The library is only about a ten minute walk and thankfully, not many students are flocking to the location on a Saturday afternoon. You assume that everyone is either hungover like Jennie or just don’t give a shit enough to come out and study.

You grab a coffee from the small coffee shop outside the library before you go in, sit down, and get to work on your studying. You turn on your classical music radio as you take out out your printed slides, notes, and textbooks. As strange as it is to say, as much as you hated studying—it’s where you felt the most comfortable. You knew you were smart and you knew school was your strongest trait—everyone knew that about you.

You go through each chapter of your human sciences class, writing and rewriting notes on new sheets of a paper. You make flashcards as you go along. You answer the obnoxiously long quiz questions at the end of your textbook as you go along. 

Thankfully, you haven’t had any distractions and before you know it, it’s been nearly two hours since you first sat down. Your coffee is now cold but you don’t care as you need the caffeine to keep you going. You are about to pull out all of your analytics material before suddenly, a coffee cup in placed on the table in front of you. You look at the source and look back down until you look up again. 

“Jungkook?” You ask pulling out one of your earbuds. His face is tired, the bags underneath his eyes prominent. He’s wearing a gray tracksuit, his hair messy underneath his somewhat contained beanie.

“H-hi,” he says simply, “Can I sit?” He asks referring to the chair across from you. You nod as he slings his backpack off and into the floor as he plops down in the chair.

“Hi,” you speak lowly. There’s tension between the two of you. It’s uncomfortable. You hate it, almost as much as you hate the sight you saw last night. “What’s up?” The question is simple, but forced.

He shrugs, “I dragged myself out to study despite my busting headache,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

“Jungkook in the library? To study? Did I hear that right?” You ask and he laughs slightly.

“Yup, unfortunately you did,” he answers before letting out a sigh. “I uh, got you this,” he slides the coffee cup over to you and you furrow your brows. You face heats up. Why would he buy you a coffee? The time Jungkook bought you something was a card and flowers the evening of your high school graduation, why the hell would he buy you a coffee?

“Thanks,” you laugh awkwardly grabbing the cup from him. You take a sip from the cup and realize it’s exactly how you like it. Three creams, an espresso shot, and a dash of vanilla flavoring. “How’d you know this is what I like?” You ask.

“Uh, you told me a few years back,” he says shy, his gaze ripping away from you. “I assumed it was the same, thank god,” he laughs trying to lighten up the mood.

“Thanks,” you repeat, unsure of what to say.

“Uh, how’s Jennie this morning?” He asks you with a genuine concern. You look from him, not being able to hold his gaze without burning up.

“She’s fine,” you say, keeping your eyes on your notes and hands in front of you.

“That’s good,” he says awkwardly. His leg is bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and he feels like he needs to throw up.

“Why did you buy me this?” You ask him. He wants something, you can feel it.

“Um, no reason, I-I just saw you h-here and I know how much you love coffee,” he stumbles over his words and you meet his gaze again, before giving him a glare.

“Hm,” you mumble.

“Listen Y/N,” he starts, sounding more clear of his words, “I know we don’t really have a relationship anymore but, I-I just wanted to apologize to you about… the bathroom… last night,” he sighs and he hangs his head down for a second.

Your expression is blank and you shrug your shoulders with a small head shake, “Don’t worry about it.”

He nods slowly before a silence falls between you two.

“Listen, um I really have to get back to studying for my midterm tomorrow. Thank you again for the coffee,” you say with a small smile, trying your best to be cordial with him.

He nods getting ready to stand up but he stops abruptly, “What are you doing this week?”

The question catches you off guard.

“Oh, um,” your mouth is dry and it’s hard to find the words, “Probably studying, working, I don’t know,” you shrug again.

“Well uh, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up?” He bits his lip nervously, “We haven’t hung out in awhile, I thought maybe we could catch up?”

Awhile would be an understatement. The boy and you exchange another glance before you begin to nod hesitantly.

“Sure,” you answer simply.

“Cool,” he responds, “You still have the same number?” He asks. The question is weird. How is it that your best friend of so many years has to ask if your number is the same?

“Yeah,” you nod. He nods too, saying a quick goodbye before you watch as his built frame disappears into another corridor of the library, your eyes lingering a little too long on his built frame. What the hell was that?

_____

On Monday, both of your exams go a lot better than you were expecting them to. Your human sciences exam had already been graded and you made a 94 which in turn meant you were over the moon. Now you could only hope for that in analytics.

You know sat across from Jennie at one of your campus’s sandwich shops eating a late lunch.

“I don’t even know why you stress so much about your grades Y/N,” Jennie says, “You always end up with an A.”

“Jennie, I worry because if I don’t get A’s I can get kicked out of the honors program, you know this,” you say with pointed eyes, “Besides, I made a B in that business statistics class I had my freshman year, I’m still pissed about that!”

“Boohoo, I got a C minus in that class,” Jennie rolls her eyes, “All I’m saying is, you just need to loosen up. I know school is stressful but I know that you have to be going crazy.”

“I am going crazy Jennie,” you whine, “I’m just glad we don’t have much longer,” you sigh heavily.

“You and me both,” she adds, “I’m sorry I interrupted your stress relief the other night,” she says.

“What?”

She laughs, “You almost got dicked down by Namjoon and I ruined it,” she pouts and you giggle at her.

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, “He said we could pick it up another time.”

“Good, his fine piece of ass is something you gotta keep,” she smirks. Suddenly, your phone makes a ding on the table and you grab it quickly. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the text message.

[3:32 PM Jeon Jungkook] hey do you still want to do something this week?

“Who is that?” Jennie asks you.

“Uh, nobody,” you shake your head putting the phone back down.

“It most definitely is not nobody—your eyes are huge,” she points out. Dammit.

“Um,” you start, “Well last week at work, Jungkook, Taehyung, and their friend Hobi came in later at night,” you tell her, “And it was awkward and then I saw Jungkook at the party on Saturday.”

“We see him all the time at the parties we go,” she shrugs.

“I know, but then he came up to me in the library the other day…and bought me a coffee,” you finish.

Jennie’s eyes widen. “What?”

“I know right,” you say.

“Wonder what he wants from you?” She purses her lips.

“He asked if he wanted to go out this week,” you shrug, “He said we haven’t in awhile and he wanted to ‘catch up’,” you say.

Jennie’s eyebrows furrow. “Hm,” she mumbles, “Well are you going to?”

“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, “I think I’ve seen enough of him to last me awhile.”

Jennie grimaces at you, “Come on Y/N,” she says, “You and Jungkook used to be inseparable, I don’t even know what the fuck happened to you two.”

“We just grew apart Jennie,” you tell her.

“Friendships like you and Jungkook don’t just ‘grow apart’,” she uses air quotes.

“Believe what you want,” you mutter, picking at your food suddenly not feeling too hungry.

“Why wouldn’t you go? There’s nothing stopping you is there?” She presses.

“Not exactly, but… I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” you mumble.

“Y/N, he’s your oldest friend,” she says, “You’ve known him longer than anyone else here, I know that you miss him as your friend,” she goes on.

“I don’t know Jennie, we’re not the same people we used to be. We’re not compatible as friends anymore, it’s weird.”

“How can it already be weirder than it is now? It’s weird as fuck that you two grew up together and don’t speak to each other anymore. I’d say go, just hangout, who knows what might happen,” she reasons and you cannot help but agree with her.

You don’t say anything else as you pull your phone back out.

[3:38 PM Me] Yeah I’m free tonight if you want to do something!

_____

Jungkook picks you up at seven on the dot. You feel nervousness settling in your stomach and you suddenly care about your appearance. When you open the door of your apartment and welcome him in, you have to tell yourself to keep your mouth closed.

He’s dressed in a sweatshirt and ripped jeans but he looks…so good? You hope you aren’t overdressed in your dress and denim jacket and he smiles when he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” he greets you and you welcome him into your apartment—a place he has never been.

“Hi,” you say grabbing your keys from the kitchen. “Jennie!” You shout and she emerges from the laundry room

“Yeah?” She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Jungkook. “Oh, hey Jungkook.”

“Hi,” he smiles.

“I’ll be back later,” you tell her, “What are you doing tonight?”

“I have to write a report and I guess I’m going to do your laundry since you’re lazier than shit,” she presses. You throw up your middle finger and turn to Jungkook.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

_____

“Where are we going?” You ask him as you make your way outside, keeping a relative distance between you and him.

“You hungry?” Jungkook proposes, almost with a playful tone.

“Mhm,” you mumble, looking down at the ground as you walk. This was weird… so fucking weird. The last time you and Jungkook had hung out was around two and a half years ago—not even shitting. You wonder if he still liked the same things, had the same hobbies, ate the same food, but you were completely unsure of yourself in this circumstance. The nervousness hasn’t settled in your stomach and your mind wonders if he’s nervous too.

“Alright, c’mon,” he says and you meet his gaze before he changes direction with you in tow.

It’s not even a five minute walk—mind you, in silence—until we reach the place Jungkook had led you to.

“Really Jungkook?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you step into your all too familiar work place.

“What?” He laughs, “The food is good,” he continues.

“I’m starting to think you brought me here for my employee discount,” you press to him and he tilts his head.

“You have an employee discount?” He repeats, “Good to know,” he chuckles and in turn, you return a small laugh, feeling a little more comfortable.

Mark isn’t working tonight, but unfortunately, a girl named Kyla is and you absolutely despise her. Her biggest personality trait is just being a bitch—a bitch for no reason! Sure, you can have your bitchy moments but you’re not going to be a bitch to someone unless they deserve it.

“Y/N… Jungkook,” Kyla says slowly, looking between the two of you. “Just sit wherever you like,” she says. The restaurant is free real estate as you two are the only ones here.

You choose a booth, sliding in on one side, Jungkook on the other.

“Do you know her?” You ask Jungkook once she walks away from your table.

Jungkook looks pale, “I’ve met her, once or twice,” he says and it’s all the confirmation you need to understand that means he’s fucked her once or twice.

You don’t say anything else as you look through the menu, already knowing exactly what you want.

“When did you start working here?” Jungkook asks you.

“Oh, about a month ago,” you say. He already knows that. I guess you and Jungkook are really too that point, huh? Small, dull, repetitive conversation?

“How did your exams go?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s nervous—you can sense it.

“Better than I thought,” you answer honestly.

“Hm, let me guess—you thought you did terrible but ended up getting an A,” he reads you perfectly.

“Hey! I don’t think like that,” you say even thought you know that is a fat lie.

“Come on Y/N, you’ve been that way since we were fourteen. Lying sends you to hell you know,” he raises an eyebrow at you and you look away from him to suppress your laugh.

“Fine. I got a 94 on one of them, I don’t know about the other one yet,” you tell him.

“See, you’re a genius,” he says and you shake your head.

“Most definitely not,” you say.

“I was always so envious of you growing up, you just sat there in school and you just… got it,” he says remembering back to your younger days, “All of us were jealous of you,” he adds.

“I can guarantee nobody was jealous of me Jungkook,” you give him a grimace, “We all were stupid in our own ways, maybe you more than anyone else,” you decide to pick on him since you’re feeling more relaxed as the conversation keeps going.

“Hey, no need to shit on me like that,” he gives you a pout.

Your phone suddenly vibrates against the table. It’s probably Jennie, you think to yourself as you flip the phone over. To your surprise, it’s not Jennie—It’s Namjoon.

[7:28 PM Kim Namjoon] hope you had a good day

[7:29 PM Kim Namjoon] mine would be a lot better if you were sitting on my cock right now

Your eyes widen and you flip the phone back over with a slam to the table. Jungkook looks at you curiously.

“Whose that?” He asks.

You want to lie, but Jungkook can tell when you’re lying. “Just Namjoon,” you tell him, “He was asking about some homework.”

Jungkook nods slowly before chewing on his bottom lip again, “You and hyung are good friends?”

Your face drops and you don’t say anything.

“I’m just asking since I’ve seen you guys together at our parties,” he adds while clearing his throat.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” is all that comes from your mouth. Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read but you can tell he knows you’re not saying what you’re actually thinking. What he wants you to do is be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you and Namjoon fuck from time to time, but of course, he doesn’t get that answer.

About twenty minutes later, Kyla is bringing your food.Your stomach growls as the scent of the food comes into your nostrils. The two of you begin eating, keeping some small talk between the two of you.

“Are you still a business major?” You ask him as you chow down on your French fries loaded with ketchup.

Jungkook scrunches his face up, “Hell no,” he shakes his head.

You stop your chewing momentarily, “Oh,” is all you can muster. “I’m sure that went over well with your father.”

Jungkook gives you a short glance, a smirk across his face, “It went as well as you can imagine.”

Growing up, Jungkook was expected to go to college, get a business degree of some kind and him and his older brother were to takeover his father’s company by the time he was 30—you would know, Jungkook would secretly complain to you about nonstop as teenagers.

“What are majoring in now?”

“Photography and film,” he answers boldly.

“Oh, wow,” you tell him, “That’s a big move.”

“I’d rather die than being forced to do something I don’t want to do, that’s no way to live life,” he munches on his burger, his eyes looking straight into yours.

“How’s Taehyung?” You ask him.

“He’s good,” he laughs a little bit, “Would you believe it if I told you he has a girlfriend?” He cocks his head slightly.

“Taehyung? And a girlfriend?” You say in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he chuckles, “It’s weird though, he won’t introduce me to her, hell he won’t even tell me her name.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “That is weird,” you pause, “Maybe he thinks you’ll steal her,” you smirk jokingly. 

Jungkook shakes his head, “Taehyung’s got more game than I do, trust me,” he says with a laugh. 

“I’m assuming you don’t have a girlfriend?” You ask him nervously, biting down on your bottom lip.

Jungkook stops eating and rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek, “No, I haven’t dated anyone since Yuna really.”

The confession surprises you and you somewhat don’t believe him.

“Why not?” You press.

He shrugs, “Just haven’t found anyone I like I guess, like, really like, you know?”

You nod understandingly. Before Namjoon (whom you aren’t even dating) you had dated this guy for awhile and he was nice but you were bored as fuck in that relationship. Thankfully, you moved on from that onto better things.

Once the two of you finish your meals, Jungkook pays before you can protest and you leave the restaurant around 8:30 PM. You shove your hands into your jacket and walk along beside of Jungkook, lazily kicking rocks when you come across them.

“So, what did I do to deserve a free meal and a coffee from Jeon Jungkook in the span of two days?” You look up at him and he glances down to you quickly.

“I said I wanted to catch up, how else was I supposed to do that?” He smirks and you hit his arm playfully.

You don’t say anything so he continues.

“I don’t know, it’s just when I saw you last week working, I hadn’t seen you in so long… let alone speak to you,” he pauses, “It made me realize that I miss our friendship, I missed us…” he trails off, looking straight ahead.

“Why didn’t you reach out sooner?” You ask him seriously.

Jungkook hesitates some, “You could have reached out too, the phone works both ways” his words are unexpected, harsh. And they somewhat hurt.

You don’t say anything again, feeling a sting in your chest.

“I didn’t mean it like that Y/N,” Jungkook say, stopping his path to stand in front of you, “It’s just… we haven’t spoken in so long. I feel like you’re a completely different person ever since we got here to university. I don’t know what happened—“

“You don’t know what happened?” Your tone is sharp. “Are you stupid Jungkook?”

He looks taken aback, “W-what?”

“When we were eighteen and you fucking kissed me that’s what happened and that’s when shit changed Jungkook, don’t act like you don’t know,” you sound angry to which, you are. Talking about this gets you riled up.

Jungkook lowers his head, “We should have talked about that, I know but—“

“But what Jungkook? It ruined our friendship and you know it.”

“I ruined it?” He now sounds pissed off. “What ruined our friendship was you acting like I didn’t exist once we got here to college. You blew me off and blew me off time and time again,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I tried to maintain this friendship and you know it. If that stupid, fucking, drunken kiss bothered you that bad, you should have been a big girl and told me.”

You feel frustrated and you feel tears are threatening to spill out of you. You want to comeback with something, but you know he’s right. He did try and you were the one to put distance between you both.

“I-I,” you start but no words come out. “I’m sorry Jungkook. It’s just when we got here, things got more complicated and more stressful, and I couldn’t afford distractions—“

“So I’m a distraction now?”

“What? No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” you shake your head in protest.

“So, hanging out at fraternity houses every weekend, getting hammered with Jennie every weekend, smoking pot once in awhile, and fucking Namjoon isn’t a distraction? But your best friend of fourteen years is a distraction?” Jungkook’s words come out in a frenzy and you feel slightly attacked.

“Excuse me what? Jungkook no—“ you stop yourself from speaking. You know he’s right but that doesn’t give him a right to attack you like that. “So, what’s your excuse then for not being the bigger person than, huh? Getting sucked off too many times in a bathroom and you realized you don’t need my attention anymore? Huh?”

Jungkook’s eyes darken and you can tell he’s pissed off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asks you.

“Jungkook, you’re my oldest friend—“

“You don’t treat me like it—“

“Well neither do you,” you back go back and forth with each other. You’re frustrated. Angry. Sad.

Jungkook is fighting a battle in his head. “I’m sorry okay,” he says, “I think we both can admit we’ve acted shitty to each other.”

You look away from him staring aimlessly at your lap, “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Neither should have I,” he says. “I just wish you had told me about that stupid kiss, we could have talked through it Y/N. I wasn’t thinking back then.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Jungkook’s eyes look panicked and he scratches the back of his neck.

“I had a stupid little crush on you at the time okay? And alcohol doesn’t help, it only intensified my feelings.”

“What?” Your mouth drops agape at the confession.

“I know, stupid right,” he shakes his head, “Fuck I wished we had discussed this sooner because this is so embarrassing,” he laughs while shaking his head.

You’re in disbelief. Jungkook liked you? How did you not know? It makes your insides tingle at the thought, but you know you shouldn’t get excited so you drown out the feeling deep within you. 

“Well, that was years ago,” you tell him, “All we can do now is look ahead,” your breath is uneven and shaky.

“You’re right,” he mutters, “I really am sorry Y/N, I-I just want you as a friend again—“

“I forgive you Jungkook. And I’m sorry too.”

What Jungkook does next is unexpected but all too familiar. He grabs your chin and squeezes it in his hand. You swat him away with a laugh as he pulls you in by an arm. You oblige his movements and rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you keep walking. There’s something oddly intimate about this gesture. And the whole atmosphere has changed but you like it—it feels… like home.

“Can I ask you something?” You mumble.

“You just did,” he laughs and his chest rumbles underneath you.

“Shut the fuck up,” you lean up from him with a smile, “Namjoon said you talk about me a lot…?” You trail off your question. You could be sneaky if you really wanted to be.

“He did?” Jungkook panics. Fucking Namjoon, he thinks to himself. “W-what did he say?” He stumbles on his words.

“Just stuff,��� you respond hesitantly, “He may or may not have said that you called me hot.” Jungkook freezes beside of you.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna kill hyung,” he mutters underneath his breath, “Look I’m sorry okay—I was really drunk and I saw you at one of our parties in this short ass dress and fuck, yeah I said you were hot—I’m sorry okay? I know that’s so fucking weird jeez, I’m sorry—“

“Jungkook it’s fine,” you laugh interrupting his rambling. “It’s not weird, I just wanted to know whether or not Namjoon was feeding me shit.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” He asks and you can sense that he is very embarrassed. “I told you, I’m not good with my alcohol.”

You shake your head, “I mean, you’re pretty hot too if I say so myself,” the words tumble from your mouth and you actually want to crawl in a hole and die. Did you just say that?! Jungkook looks at you as you turn your face away from him. Fuck, he thinks to himself. He glances down your body and notices the cleavage coming through your dress and the way you hair is pulled to one side. Fuck, he thinks again, yeah, stupid little crush three years ago my ass.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice his quiet, serious.

“Of course,” you look up at him with a concern face.

“You can’t tell anyone—not even Jennie,” he says, his voice low. You give him a confused look, but nod anyways.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him. He bits at his lip, feeling uneasy.

He takes in a deep breath before exhaling, “When I changed my major a few months back, my parents threatened to cut me off—“

“Whoa, what?”

“And they’re still threatening to if I don’t get my shit straight.”

“Jungkook, I don’t get what you’re saying? Have you done something?” You ask him, feeling already too uneasy about where this conversation is going.

“No, I haven’t done anything—that’s the problem. I haven’t proved to them that I’m worthy for them to keep paying for my school. I haven’t proved to them that I can get a job somewhere. My grades aren’t proving anything to them.”

“What are you gonna do if they cut you off? You can’t pay for this shit-hole by yourself—they know that.” You notice the way his jaw is grinding and his breathing is shaking.

“Please don’t get mad at me,” he mumbles quietly. Oh god. “Recently I started taking up, um… boxing,” he says, unsure of his words.

“…Okay?” You say slowly.

“I’ve been fighting, like underground fighting,” you almost don’t hear him, but then you do, and you want to laugh in his face—but he’s being serious.

“Fighting? Jungkook what the fuck?!” You push yourself away from the comfort of his side, “Are you crazy?!”

“I’m getting paid for the fights—if I win at least,” he tries to sound reasonable but to you, you want to scream at him in anger.

“Jungkook, are you fucking kidding me? You’re fighting? Instead of finding a real job?”

“Y/N you don’t understand—I make thousands of dollars for one fight—it’s my best chance right now.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you shake your head, pulling your hands through your hair in frustration, you cannot believe this man right now.

“What are you going to do about school then? Huh?” You press him.

“I-I was hoping you would help me, at least try to tutor me,” he says hesitantly and your stomach drops. You don’t say anything for a moment, unsure if you want to scream or cry at him.

“So this is the reason why you wanted to rekindle our friendship, so I could be your fucking tutor?”

“What no—“

“Are you fucking kidding me Jungkook? I cannot believe you right now,” your voice is getting louder by the minute. You start to walk away from him back to your apartment by yourself, unable to even look at him right now.

“Wait—no, please Y/N,” Jungkook runs to you, grabbing your hand and pulls you back to him, “I know this is all bad timing but I really did miss having you as a friend and you’re the only person, I could tell this to, at least for now,” he quickly explains.

“What, so you want me to help you through school while you get the shit knocked out of you for money?” You ask him, “Jungkook I don’t want to see you go through that, you have to find another option,” your eyes are pleading with him. His grip moves from your hand to your waist which causes your heart to race irregularly.

“Y/N, please I know it’s not the best but it really is my best option. I need someone there for me and I need that person to be you,” his face is too close for comfort and you back away from him a few inches.

“Jungkook, I don’t know,” you shake your head.

“Please, Y/N, I’m begging you,” he says again.

“Have you told anyone?” You ask him.

“Aside from you, only Taehyung knows—and Yoongi, he was the one to introduce me to it.” Yoongi—a name you’re not familiar with.

“Fucking hell Jungkook,” you lean your head back, trying to contain your emotions.

“Please you can’t tell anyone Y/N, I can get in serious trouble by obtaining money this way.”

“Yeah because it’s fucking illegal,” you spit at him. You find his hand to grip a little too tightly and you want to scream at Jungkook. How could he be so stupid? And how were you going to let him be so stupid?

“I’ll help you with school Jungkook, but the fighting… I don’t know,” you tell him, “You know I’m not going to be okay with that.”

“If you makes you feel any better, I haven’t lost. The most I’ve walked away with is a few scraps and bruises on my arms,” he tries to lighten up your mood but it doesn’t work. “I promise I won’t get hurt, I know what I’m doing,” he nudges you trying to loosen you up some. He hands end up grabbing yours, intertwining them tightly.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep Jungkook,” you tell him and his face falls again. Both of you look at your intertwined hands. “At least promise me you’ll be careful,” you plead him.

“Of course. I promise,” he says giving your hand a squeeze. Without warning, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. Your hands snake up against his neck and pull him close to you as well.

His scent is all too familiar and it scares you that you’ve missed out on him growing into the handsome adult he is now. And now, you have to fear for his wellbeing. Fuck. Jungkook pulls away from you and your faces meet a little too close for comfort. His nose brushes against yours, his eyes burning holes into you.

“I’d trust you with my life Y/N,” he speaks again, “And I’m trusting you with this.”

Your breath hitches as his nose brushes yours again. Fuck, you think to yourself. You bite your lip, knowing that you wold absolutely die for this boy and it takes all of you to grip his shirt and push him away from you. You feel less suffocated once your space is empty and Jungkook’s hand stays in yours as he walks you home. It’s a good thing, you think, that you’ve had a stupid little crush on him too or you would most definitely not do this shit for him.

_____

“So,” Jennie says slowly, “How was it?”

You hadn’t even walked into your apartment five feet before Jennie is rushing questions onto you.

“Um,” you pause, taking the time to take off your shoes, “It went... well,” you say, unsure of your words. Did it go well? You weren’t sure considering the two of you were in an argument nearly the whole way home.

“Well?” Jennie asks, curiosity dripping in her tone, “I need more details than that. What’d you do? What did you guys talk about?”

“Um, we just kind of caught up on things,” you knew you had to tread your words lightly. “It felt pretty normal.” You add at the last second, giving her a weak smile. She narrows her eyes at you.

“That’s it?” She somewhat frowned.

“What did you want me to say?” You give her a laugh as you begin to walk back towards your room and undress into your sleepwear. She follows your footsteps closely.

“I don’t know! I was just expecting more, more from you! You seem awfully quiet,” she says plopping down on your bed that she is oh-so accustomed to.

You look through your drawers and pull out a big t-shirt and slip it over your head. You turn to Jennie and give her another pathetic attempt of a smile.

“It’s just weird okay,” you tell her, climbing onto your bed with her, “This was the first time we’ve actually hung out by ourselves in years and I don’t know, it was good, like we picked up where we left off you know?” You knew that was a complete lie but you needed to get Jennie off your case or you were afraid you would let your worries slip.

She lets out a sigh, “I guess so. I do think about high school sometimes and we really had it good… the four of us,” she smiles fondly thinking back to simpler times.

“Yeah… we did,” you agree staring up at your ceiling.

“How’s Taehyung by the way? Did Jungkook mention him?”

You give a glance at Jennie and she’s looking at her overgrown nails. “He’s good, Jungkook said he had a girlfriend which surprised me.”

“Hm,” Jennie shrugged, “Interesting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows while looking at her. “Interesting?” You found her answer odd but she brushes it off.

“Yeah, well I have homework to do that isn’t gonna do itself unfortunately,” she stands up from your bed, “See you in the morning, goodnight.” She throws you a quick wink before she leaves, shutting your bedroom door behind of her.

You let out a sigh of relief when she leaves. As happy as you were that you and Jungkook reconnected some tonight, the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach was keeping you from focusing on the good. You couldn’t believe what Jungkook had gotten himself into. Boxing? For money? You knew Jungkook never had much common sense but this takes it to another level. You now knew one of his deepest secrets and not only could that seriously backfire on you if something went wrong. He said he trusted you with his fucking life for Christ’s sake. Who says that to someone they’ve barely spoken to in two years? Someone who is desperate, you think.

You grab a book from your nightstand for one of your classes and flip to your last read page, trying to rid your mind of Jungkook getting the shit beat out of him. And as much as you read your book and your eyelids fall sleepy, you manage to barely sleep that night, as images of your old friend are burned into your brain.

_____

It wasn’t long after your first meetup with Jungkook that he started asking for tutoring help. Jungkook knew your schedule was busy and he didn’t want to pressure you into anything, but the more you were around Jungkook, the more desperate you were to help him. You have known him for so long and despite all your differences, he truly was and will always be one of your best friends. And best friends helped each other. Right?

“Hey—sorry I’m late,” you meet Jungkook in the back of the fourth floor of the library after your last class of the day. “I had a question about my lecture—“

“Y/N it’s fine,” Jungkook says softly, not looking up from his paper, “Don’t worry about it.”

You set down beside of him and begin to take your belongings out of your backpack and you notice Jungkook has already begun some work himself.

“How was classes today?” You ask him opening up your laptop. You give him a glance and he’s focused on the problem in front of him.

“It was alright, I slept through my first one at ten—“

“What’s that?” You ask as you let your eyes focus a little too close on his face. A cut lined across his jaw and up towards his left ear and you felt yourself begin to panic.  “Jungkook what—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he’s being cold and distant and you don’t like it. You look down his arms and onto his hands and notice some cuts and bruises there too. That’s when it hits you.

“Jungkook did you have a fight recently?” You keep your voice low so no one else could hear. He visibly tenses up beside of you and he adjusts his beanie on his to try and cover his ear area.

“Yeah,” he says simply, his eyes not looking at you one time, still focusing on the paper ahead.

“Jungkook,” your tone is deep and not happy, but you suppose there isn’t much you can do in this situation. Curiosity got the best of you and you ask, “What happened?”

“Let’s not talk about that okay?” He turns to you fully and you inwardly gasp, seeing that his right eye is half blacked behind his glasses. You feel sick to your stomach and your mouth parts. Again, you don’t say anything and just give him a nod.

The rest of the tutoring session with him goes smoothly and Jungkook has significantly picked up his understanding of his classes in a short amount of time, but in the back of your mind you wanted to scream. Scream at him. How could he be doing this to himself? He first told you he was fine. He sure doesn’t look fine. It’s getting close to 7 o’clock when you tell him you have to go get ready for your shift at the diner in an hour.

“We can pick up again whenever you need to,” you tell, “And text me if you have any questions.”

“What are you doing this weekend?” Jungkook completely ignores your sentences and you turn to him, trying not to stare at the faint of blue under his eye.

“Um, I have another shift tomorrow that starts at 7,” you tell him.

“Can you get off?” He asks almost nervously as the two of you begin to leave the library.

You chuckle, “Probably not, why?”

“Well, Taehyung and I are having a small get together at our apartment and I wanted to know if you and Jennie wanted to come?”

He sounds genuine and you know it could be fun and a little different from the chaotic frat scene that you’re used to.

“Sure, I’m sure Jennie will be down,” you give him a smile to which he returns one for the first time tonight. “If I can’t get off work I’ll just come after my shift.”

“Sounds good,” he says and you are about to part ways before he grabs your arm to stop you, “Thanks again Y/N, for helping me out,” there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“No problem, it’s what a friend would do right?” You give him your best smile although it feels weird saying that. His face drops in the slightest way.

“Yeah…” he trails off, his hand trailing down your arm before letting go, “See you soon?”

You give him a nod, “See you soon.”

_____

Your shift at the diner tonight was being particularly slow for a Tuesday and you found yourself aimlessly making lattes for yourself every thirty minutes. You were slightly jacked from the caffeine but you knew you would need it once you went home to finish off the load of your homework for the night. Bedtime as of right now was looking to be 3 AM, possibly 4. Mark is once again working with you tonight which makes it all the more bearable, but the more you stand behind the counter, sipping your coffee, the more you realize you do not want to waste tomorrow night working.

“Hey, Mark,” you say and he looks up from his book.

“What’s up?” He asks, his eyes focussing on you.

“Would you care…. to possibly… take my shifts this weekend?” You ask slowly, dancing around the topic. His eyebrows furrow and you could tell that is not what he wanted to hear from you.

“I mean… I don’t care to, but can I ask why?”

Shit. You couldn’t say it was to go to a small party. That would be an automatic no.

“Well, I’ve been tutoring someone recently and it's taken away from my own study time, so I really need all weekend to catch up on all my shit,” you say smoothly. Not a complete lie, but he didn’t need to know you would be catching up on your “shit” tonight and not this weekend.

“Yeah, sure whatever,” he waves his hand off, “Just be sure to tell our manager before you leave.”

“Right… thanks Mark.”

“That means you owe me a shift in the future,” he says pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, read your fucking book.”

_____

Friday was a blur. You went to sleep around 3:45 AM. Had to wake up at 7 AM for your 8 AM lecture, dragged your feet to your other classes, barely had time to eat anything, only consuming coffee to suppress your appetite in the afternoon, and now that you were home you couldn’t wait to lay in your bed for a few hours.

Jennie didn’t have classes on Friday’s—fuck her—so she had been chilling all day when you burst through the door exhausted.

“You look horrible,” she said as soon as you flopped down on the couch beside of her.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you groan covering your eyes.

“Well you better get rested up before tonight,” she says.

“What’s tonight?” You mumble, nearly drifting off to sleep right then and there.

“Jungkook invited us to his apartment, that’s what you said last night,” she gave you a funny look before shaking her head.

Shit. You had forgotten about that throughout your drowsy state all day.

“Yeah, right,” you pause, looking at her through the crack of your arm, “Wake me up at 7 to get ready.” You stand up planning on taking the fattest nap of your life.

“I-I captain!” Jennie says sarcastically and it’s the last thing you hear before passing out on your bed, not even bothering to put a blanket over you.

_____

Jungkook and Taehyung’s apartment isn’t far from yours. You wouldn’t say the exterior is nicer than yours, but the abundance of buildings shows that their community is much larger than the one you and Jennie share.

“This is right?” Jennie asks as you knock on the door heavily.

“Yeah,” you say, faintly hearing music from the other side of the door.

The door swings open and to your surprise, it’s Taehyung.

“Jennie, Y/N!” He smiles widely at the two of you before ushering you in. “It’s been wayyyy too long! You guys want a drink?”

You take a second to look around their apartment, not seeing Jungkook anywhere. There’s about two dozen people here, some playing pong, others sitting around the living area. You knew Taehyung was feeling a little drunk despite it being only 9 from the way he grabs a couple cups, the entire tower of them falling over.

“How have you guys been?!” Taehyung pours some cheap tequila into your red solo cups and hands them over.

“Good, what about you?” Jennie smiles to him and Taehyung pours another shot for himself.

“Fucking great,” he says before putting his cup out. The three of you bump cups and down the tequila, a familiar burn hitting you instantly. It’s oddly reminiscent, the three of you drinking alcohol like there are no problems with the world.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, giving another glance around the apartment, only recognizing some of his frat brothers, but him still not to be found.

“He went to get more alcohol and some other things,” Taehyung says, pouring another shot for the two of you. “I heard the two of you finally got over your bullshit?”

You furrow your eyebrows and Jennie laughs. “W-what?” You have to laugh too, “Bullshit?”

“You know, how the two of you acted like neither of you existed? God it was so annoying hearing that little bitch talk about you constantly,” he rolls his eyes dramatically and Jennie eyes you suspiciously.

“Uh, yeah—“ you were unsure of what to say, “Heard you have a girlfriend now?” You change the subject quickly and Jennie raises her eyebrows at Taehyung.

“Really?” Jennie says almost passively. Taehyung doesn’t glance at you, only looking to Jennie.

“Yeah,” he says, “C’mon, drink your shit. The night is young and you guys need to catch up!”

“Or you need to slow down?” You offer and only giggles again. You down another shot and at this pace, you’ll be passed out by 11, Jennie by 10. You’ve always handle your alcohol better than her, but a shot every two minutes will do anyone in.

The three of you talk aimlessly, somewhat of an unresolved tension between Jennie and Taehyung that is impossible to avoid until you get some more alcohol in you. You’re about four shots of Jose Cuervo in and sipping on some type of seltzer when your phone buzzes in your hand.

[9:46 PM Namjoon] hey, wrud tonight

[9:46 PM You] at a friend’s place tonight, wbu

Your eyes are having trouble to focus as the alcohol begins to settle in your system. You remember vividly how you barely had any food today and you know you should stop drinking otherwise you might puke everywhere.

[9:48 PM Namjoon] damn, missing you. I believe you still owe me a rain check

You laugh at your phone.

[9:48 PM You] soon, I promise lol

“Jungkook! Fuck yes my brother!”

You instantly look up from your phone and see Jungkook walking through the front door, a case of beer in one hand and a brown bag in the other. He smiles as he sets down the case and bag of liquor as his brothers crowd around him to grab a can.

Do you go up to him? Yes, are you, stupid? But shouldn’t he look for you? What are you twelve?

Your internal monologue is interrupted when Taehyung pulls you over to Jungkook with a small push.  

“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook smiles, grabbing a beer for himself. He’s wearing a hat to cover his forehead.

“Hi,” you smile and he gives you a small, somewhat awkward hug.

“Glad you could make it,” he says, the bruises on his face from the other day already looking a lot better.

“I was not going to spend my Friday night at the restaurant,” you laugh, trying intensely to focus on his face and not zone in and out as you tend to do drunkenly.

“Jennie here?” He asks.

“Yeah, she’s uh,” you pause, actually not knowing where she went. “Oh, she’s playing pong with Taehyung.”

“Come on then,” he reaches out his hand, “Let’s play with them.”

“Jungkook I’m terrible, you know that—“

“I never said you were good, but for old times sake?” His brown eyes bore into yours and you give in, nodding your head and settling your hand into his. His hands are warm—always have been. Slightly rough and calloused but smooth—what the fuck, stop it!

The four of you, girls verses boys, start a new game of pong and you’re sure Jennie is just as bad as you. That’s evident when Jungkook and Taehyung lob four in, one after another. You’re lucky you get one in their cups. Jennie, too drunk at this point, can’t even throw straight. The whole sight is very funny as the four of you laugh like you’re the only ones in the room.

“Come on Y/N!” Taehyung yells, “I knew you were ass but really?!”

“Me! What about her!” You defend yourself as Jennie throws a ball at Jungkook’s head.

“At least Y/N can aim!” Jungkook laughs, defending you as well, rubbing his head from the plastic impact.

The game ends with Jungkook calling island and you don’t even care at this point. Pong was and never will be your favorite. Flip cup was your speciality and even Taehyung knew that. You find yourself sitting with Jungkook on their couch, legs tucked underneath you, watching at Taehyung and Jennie take on another round of pong with Jackson—a fraternity brother—and his long time girlfriend—Mina, maybe?

“Are you even drunk right now?” You deadpan Jungkook with your eyes and he gives you a small smile.

“Nah,” he says, “You are though,” he says pointedly drinking from his beer.

“Hey—“ you point, “Only a little,” you whisper close to his ear and he laughs at you again. “You sir, need to drink.”

Jungkook shakes his head before standing up, your eyes following up his jeans to his t-shirt clad chest. Has he always looked like this? You grab onto his extended hand and he leads you away from everyone and your heart rate quickens. Where are you going? What’s he doing?

To your relief, he takes to the small outside balcony, sliding the door nearly closed as you step out. There’s two other people out here smoking cigarettes that greet you and Jungkook curiously. You have seen these boys before, but you know they don’t recognize you. They obviously think you’re some random girl Jungkook has invited but—if they only knew.

The fresh air feels nice, but you can feel a chill running down your spine and you watch Jungkook’s frame go to a dark corner of the balcony, bending down to pick something off the ground.

“What are you doing?” You ask him and he turns back to you and you send some interesting paraphernalia in his hands.

“Not in a drinking mood tonight,” he says, his eyes leaving yours before focusing on the small glass bowl in his hands. He starts to pack it and you’re watching his every move closely. You never knew Jungkook to be a stoner, but the way he packs it quickly and begins to light it, tells you otherwise. He inhales through the end of the bowl deeply, exhaling once, before quickly taking another hit.

“Goddamn,” you laugh and he starts to cough a little bit, a small laugh coming from him.

Jungkook begins to walk back to the corner before you grab his shirt to pull him back.

“You heard of sharing is caring?” You say and he shakes his head.

“No, you’re drunk, you don’t need—“

“I want too,” you say. You hadn’t smoked in awhile, but you knew you could trust Jungkook. “Come on, I’m fine.”

Jungkook hesitates a little before he holds out the bowl. You take it and hold is securely between your lips. He lights the underside and you inhale deeply. The balcony begins to smell like weed, but it doesn’t bother you, it never has. You exhale and give him a small smile. He puts the illegal substances away and stands beside of you on the balcony.

“Alright, that will be five dollars,” he says and you turn to him, your mouth agape.

“Five dollars a hit? Kiss my ass,” you say and you suddenly begin to feel the effects of the marijuana, which makes you giggle a little too long.

“How was your day?” Jungkook asks you and you nearly feel like you could fall asleep.

“Exhausting,” you mumble, “I got like four hours of sleep last night and one of my professors had the audacity to tell me that my answer was wrong on my homework when literally five other people had the same answer and got it right. And then I had coffee as my meals and had a busting headache until I took the longest nap of my fucking life—“

“Slow down,” Jungkook interjects with a laugh, “Too much information that I’m not processing right now.”

You let out an “ugh” before saying, “I’ve had better days for sure.” You leave it at that. “What about you?”

He smiles before turning to you completely, “I’ve had better days, better weeks for sure.” He almost sounds annoyed now, like something is deeply bothering him.

You let a pause presume between the two of you, unsure of what to say. You know you shouldn’t bring it up, but you can’t help it. The bruises on his face, the cuts on his hands—you needed to know what happened to him. Despite your intoxicated state, you could form sentences and think pretty clearly and you weren’t letting Jungkook out of your sight without explaining himself.

“Jungkook,” you say in a whisper, looking around to see if the other guys had left. They had. “Are you gonna tell me what happened to your face?”

He looks down, almost embarrassed. “There was a fight on Tuesday,” he stops when you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“Tuesday?!” You half whisper, “What the hell are you doing fighting on a Tuesday? Jungkook you said—“

“It wasn’t an official fight Y/N,” he interrupts you, “I was fucking jumped with one of my friends,” he says and your eyes widen. You feel your head spinning and your mouth goes dry. From the weed, alcohol, or the conversation? You’re not sure.

“What?” You ask, worry filling your tone, “Jungkook what the fuck! You said you had this under control.”

“Keep your voice down!” He scolds, “I do have it under control, although you can’t really control when you get jumped.”

“W-why? Who would want—“

“His name is Eric. I beat him at the last real fight and I guess he’s a sore fucking loser. He wants a rematch and everything, said he was injured before the fight, so he sent some pussies to jump my friend Jimin and I.”

The information being taken in wasn’t something you wanted to hear. Was this stupid underground boxing that serious? And how stupid could Jungkook be to continue to do this?

“Well you’re not gonna fight him again,” you pause. He doesn’t look at you. “Are you?”

“There’s a lot of money on the line,” he says.

“Jungkook you’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not Y/N,” he turns to you again, his body now closer than before. His knuckles gripping the railing are pale and cracked. “If I win this fight, I won’t need anymore money before the end of the year. Hell, I’ll probably even have some left over.”

“Okay? And?”

“Then I can be done with fighting,” he sounds genuine but insincere  at the same time. This greatly improves your posture and you feel your heartbeat calming down.

“B-but I figured you would need more money? Your parents Jungkook?” You stumble over some of your words.

“Y/N you don’t understand the money within these things, it’s insane. Trust me, I’ll be set with money for awhile. I just have to win that fight…”

You want to protest him. Tell him he shouldn’t do it, that he should find a normal job, get away from that stuff—but you stay silent. Jungkook always will be as stubborn as you and he seems to have made up his mind about this fighting stuff awhile ago. At the end of the day, whatever happens to him, isn’t necessarily your business.

“You know I’ll never agree with this,” you shake your head, looking down at Jungkook’s hands. They’ve relaxed against the railing and time has slowed down significantly. Every blink of your eyes seem to last 5 seconds and Jungkook could say the same thing.

“I know,” Jungkook steps towards you, overlapping one of his hands with yours, “But like I said, I trust you and you should trust me,” he almost sounds desperate. “Look at me,” he whispers and you slowly turn your head up. Your noses are nearly touching and you can smell him, your vision clouding in the dark.

“Do you trust me?” He asks quietly, licking his lips and you swallow, trying to find your breath.

You nod your head slowly, “Yes.”

You don’t know who leans in first, but when your lips meet, it’s like a siren goes off. The scene feels all too familiar. His lips are soft and they feel just like you remember. He’s gentle with you, his left hand holding your waist to pull you towards him, your bodies flush together. One of your hands finds their way to his hair and you pull him down closer to you. This feels good, really good—but isn’t this wrong? You two have just rekindled your relationship and you two didn’t even last four weeks before you two are snogging—the very reason your friendship became weird in the first place all those years ago.

You try to pull away, “Jungkook—“ he closes the gap once again and it’s like a drug—touch is like heroin in your veins. Both of you are hungry—hungry for each other. You’re not sure when, but you find yourself backed into the wall of the dark-side of the balcony. The door isn’t in view so anyone inside couldn’t see what was going on right now thank god.

“Y/N,” the groan sends your body into overdrive and he begins to trail his lips down your neck and you’ve pulled him so close to you there is barely room to breathe. It’s gotta be the alcohol—or the weed—or just Jungkook—but you’ve never wanted anyone more in your life. You squeeze your thighs together to find some unrelieved friction and Jungkook senses what you’re doing. He stops you, forcing is own leg between your crotch and you subtly moan.

“Fuck, shh,” Jungkook scolds and it makes you laugh as you check if anyone is coming to the door.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he closes the gap between you again, covering your mouth gently and you genuinely feel butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook’s hand trails from your waist down to the front of you jeans and you pull away suddenly, “Jungkook w-what are you doing?!”

“Do you want me to do this?” He sounds mischievous as he pops open the button to your pants and you can safely say you never thought you would be in this situation with Jeon Jungkook of all people, but you are not about to stop him.

You kiss him this time, pulling on his hair, eliciting another delicious groan from him. His hand makes it way to your center and you shiver in the cold, his hands warm against your underwear. He rubs you through the material, once, twice, three times before he moves aside the fabric—the wetness covering his fingers instantly. You look towards the door again nervous that someone might walk out here and see the two of you compromised—you would die. Especially if it was Taehyung or Jennie.

“Quiet, alright?” Jungkook whispers and you nod biting your lip as he enters a finger into you. You close your eyes, mouth falling open. Your breathing picks up as he enters a second digit. His fingers are long and calloused as you noticed before but it feels so good. He brings one of your legs around his waist so he can get deeper into your center and a small, squeaky moan escapes from your mouth. Jungkook shuts you up by kissing you again and he begins to move his fingers in and out, curling them in all the right places, sending you into a silent mess.

You and Jungkook shouldn’t be doing this—not here, not right now, not ever. But you’re not doing anything to stop it. Neither is he. Is this suppose to be happening then? No—definitely yes. Wait, what? Your brain is so foggy you can’t even think straight.

Jungkook has added a third finger and it’s becoming harder and harder to stay quiet. Jungkook’s face in the crook of your neck, your neck in his—it’s all a little too intimate but it’s hot and heavy and it feels so good. Jungkook begins to use his thumb to find your clit, which he does with no problem—rubbing there and still moving in and out of you. Goddamn, he knows what he is doing.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna—“

“Shh,” he says, “Bite me, anywhere,” he says and you do as he says, your teeth clamping down onto his shoulder as you feel yourself falling off the edge. Your orgasm comes in a huge wave and it’s one of the best you’ve had in a long time—your body is shaking and you whimper into his shoulder, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Jungkook lets you finish before he pulls his hand out of your pants, letting your leg drop. You two stare at each other for a couple seconds, unsure of what to do now. You knew that Jungkook was hard in his pants but you weren’t sure if he wanted you to do anything about it. Should you ask? No that’s fucking weird. Well it’s fucking weird you just let your best friend of a billion years to give you one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Um,” he speaks first, “We should go back inside,” he says.

You nod, “Yeah, we should.”

You follow closely behind him as he slides the door open and you step back into the much warmer apartment.

“Y/N! Jungkook! What were you guys doing?!” Jennie pops out of nowhere until she steps back, “Fuck never mind, I can smell it,” she laughs, her eyes looking between the two of you. “What’s wrong with you two? Are you fighting again? Jesus fucking—“

“No, we’re fine, just high,” Jungkook gives her a reassuring smile and she nods absentmindedly. She is very drunk and then two of you might have to go home sooner than later.

“I need to call an Uber,” you say grabbing your phone from your pocket.

“I can drive you guys if you want,” Jungkook offers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Absolutely not, you’re high.” You say pulling up the app on your phone.

“I’ve driven high before it’s not—“

“Jungkook, no,” you somewhat snap at him. This kid really knows how to grind your gears. “Thanks for inviting us, I just don’t want Jennie to do something she regrets tomorrow morning.” You try your best to lighten to mood but it’s not helping. As much progress as you and Jungkook had made the past few weeks, that all feels gone now. There’s heaviness with you and him and you hate it.

“Just let me know when you make it home?” Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read. He looks worried, anxious, high obviously, and other potential obscurities.

“I will, I promise,” you give him a smile and he returns one weakly. You look over your shoulder to find Jennie practically draping herself all over Taehyung. Fuck. “Jennie! Come on! We’re leaving,” you stomp over to the two of them and Taehyung doesn’t seemed bothered by Jennie throwing herself at him at all. If anything, they both seem to like it. “Jennie, quit, he has a girlfriend. Taehyung, you have a girlfriend,” you narrow at the both of them.

Taehyung laughs very drunkenly, “You’re right, come on Jen,” Taehyung pushes her away slightly and she stumbles over her feet.

“Our Uber is almost here,” you tell her and she nods.

“Sounds good,” she gives you a thumbs up. 

“Help me walk her Tae?” You ask and he nods.

As you and Taehyung have Jennie up around your shoulders, you look around the apartment to find Jungkook to tell him bye, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

_____

It had been exactly one week since you’ve seen Jungkook. Since he was fist deep into your vagina, pleasuring you with at least 20 people in the room next to you. It has also been the last time you spoke to him. He didn’t reach out for any tutoring this week which was odd—as the two of you set a schedule for it a few weeks back. You were worried. You knew you should reach out to him and talk about what happened—but something was holding you back. You didn’t want to talk over the phone. It had to be done in person and it just had to be done. You didn’t want to lose Jungkook a second time to another drunken mistake.

Mistake? Since when was it a mistake? Was it a mistake?

You had no idea.

It’s why you’ve found yourself at Jungkook’s apartment a week later, waiting for someone to open the door. You wait patiently and no one answers the door. You’re about to give up when a voice startles you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Taehyung appears to your left and you jump.

“Shit Taehyung,” you hold a hand over your chest, “I’m sorry, I-I was just wondering if Jungkook was home?”

Taehyung adjusts his backpack. He must be getting back from class. “He’s probably at the gym.”

You nod slowly, “Alright, thank you.”

“No problem,” he says and you’re about to walk away and he stops you again, “Everything okay?”

You open your mouth and close it again, “Not sure,” you tell him honestly. He nods without another word, seeming to understand where you’re coming from.

If your assumptions were right, Jungkook would be at a gym about ten minutes from campus, one he frequented as a freshman all that time ago. You wanted everything to be okay, but now, you were sure you have done fucked it up once again.

The gym isn’t crowded and you don’t recognize any cars to be Jungkook’s so your mood begins to dampen as you walk towards the front door. The bell rings and you probably look like an idiot walking in with jeans and sandals, but your eyes ignore the stares as you try to find Jungkook. You walk through the gym towards the back, your neck craning each direction to find him. It smells of sweat and grit, something you haven’t done too much of lately. You’re about to give up until you reach the back, where a cracked door leads into another section of the gym. You open the crack slowly and the sounds of grunting and hard hits fill the room. You stop in your place as your eyes land on Jungkook, downing boxing gloves, a pair of shorts, and nothing else. You gulp.

He’s hitting a heavy bag hard and fast, his movements halting only for a split second before he strikes again. He’s dripping in sweat and you gulp again. Should you interrupt? He’s definitely not expecting you therefore you probably shouldn’t barge in but you’re already here, so what are you supposed to do?

“Come on Jungkook,” another man’s voice comes into play. You’ve never seen this guy with mint colored hair. “Throw a southpaw, let’s go!” 

Jungkook’s stance quickly changes and he’s throwing his right arm and then uppercutting his left arm with all of his weight. 

“Nice Jungkook,” the voice says again. Jungkook steps back with a smile on his face, looking behind him. 

“Hey,” a different voice yells over and you stop to see who it is. A guy slightly shorter than Jungkook appears in the crack of the door, a wide smile across his face.

“Good news, fight is set,” the guy smiles, although his smile reads less than enthusiastic. You notice some bruising along this guys arms, a large scrap on the side of his face. This has to be Jimin, the other guy that was jumped with Jungkook. 

“When is it?” Jungkook breathes heavily, his hair sticking to his forehead as he tries to push it back through his gloves.

“October thirteenth,” Jimin says, “A Friday.”

Jungkook laughs, “A fucking Friday the thirteenth? How cheesy could they get?”

You swallow harshly. October 13th was a less than three weeks away. You’re sure they are talking about the fight with the guy named Eric that Jungkook mentioned.

“I know right,” the nameless guy says, “But I’m sure you’ll kick his ass once again, waste of your time.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice Jimin,” Jungkook sounds annoyed and you’re starting to wonder if you should have came here at all. 

“Come on, let’s do some more sets,” the other guy says says, patting Jungkook on the shoulder.

You take in a deep breath, hoping that this doesn’t backfire. You take your chance and open the door to the room as if you just showed up. Jungkook, Jimin, and the third guy turns to you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking confused, “What are you doing here?”

You glance around the room awkwardly, “Uh, I-uh, went to your apartment to see you if you were a-and Taehyung said you were here, so,” you sound like a babbling idiot.

Jungkook’s eyes soften and it’s hard to not stare below his neck, but somehow you manage.

“Jimin, Yoongi this is Y/N,” Jungkook formally introduces you, “She’s a friend.” A friend. That hurt more than it should have.

“Hi,” Jimin gives you a sweet smile and he seems like a person Jungkook would automatically gravitate towards. Yoongi stays quiet. He’s definitely not someone you would strike as Jungkook’s friend. 

“Sorry if I’m interrupting—I didn’t know…” you trail off, feeling more than awkward in this situation.

“No worries,” Jimin shakes his head, “We were almost done anyways.”

Jungkook’s eyes haven’t met yours since you’ve walked in. He’s staring at Jimin and knowing Jungkook, he’s going to try and leave as soon as he can.

“Wanna meet again tomorrow?” Jimin asks towards Jungkook as he packs up his bag on the floor.

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook mutters, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “I’m gonna stay here for a little longer though.”

“Alright,” Jimin says, “It was nice to meet you Y/N.”

You smile to him, “You too.”

Jimin and Yoongi leave the room and the silence is suffocating. You cross your arms around your chest feeling vulnerable and insecure. You look at Jungkook and he’s staring at you now. He looks away from you before turning back to the bag, lining up to strike it again.

“Jungkook,” your voice interrupts his chance to punch. He pauses with one more glance to your frame. You begin to walk closer to him wanting to get this over and done with. “What’s wrong with you?” You ask.

Jungkook looks down, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters and you nearly jump out of your body when he begins to strike the bag in quick, calculated motions. The bag moves backwards with each punch and his face tenses up, his mind clearly on one thing and one thing only. You exhale deeply, trying to stay calm. If that’s the way he’s going to play—you won’t keep your cool for long.

“Jungkook, stop,” you raise your voice over his movements and he suddenly quits, looking up at you again. “Don’t do this right now,” you say stepping closer to him again.

“What do you want Y/N, I’m busy alright,” he scoffs, stepping away from the bag, turning fully to you. You wish he didn’t look good drenched in sweat but it was hard to stay focused when he was looking like that.

“You know exactly what I want. You haven’t spoken to me in a fucking week Jungkook,” your words are fiery despite your cool demeanor.

“Is that really that big of an issue? We barely spoke for two years until recently,” he sounds annoyed, but also timid—you can sense something is bothering him.

You frown, “Yeah until recently because I thought we moved past that.”

He doesn’t say anything. And that’s what boils your blood. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes—not from sadness, but frustration.  

“So is that it? I let you finger fuck me and now I don’t mean anything to you anymore?” Your words are seething and once you say this, Jungkook’s face softens that slightest bit.

“What? No Y/N—“

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you? What have I done?!” It takes all of you not to breakdown right there. You just got Jungkook back. You couldn’t lose him a second time.

“Y/N listen,” Jungkook takes off his boxing gloves, throwing them in the floor, “You haven’t done anything alright. It’s just—complicated,” he shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He tries to grab one of your hands but you pull away from him.

“No, no you don’t get to do that,” you say, “What happened to communicating Jungkook? Wasn’t that our issue all that time ago?”

He looks down and back up. You really wish he would put a shirt on. “I know, I know…” he wanders off, “If I could tell you I would, but I’m just under a lot of stress right now and—“

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” you don’t want to interrupt him, but you feel like you two are going in an endless circle. Jungkook steps towards you once again and this time you don’t back away from him.

“Look, I’m sorry alright. I shouldn’t have cut you off this past week—I just thought it would clear my head,” he says. With hesitation, he grabs your wrists gently, “That was stupid I get that okay? I’m sorry, especially after… what happened,” he says and you can tell he means it. Jungkook is a genuine person, you can’t argue that.

Your face warms up and you feel almost embarrassed. Were you overreacting?

“I just don’t understand,” you mutter, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions but Jungkook, you’re worrying me. I don’t know what’s going on with us and this whole boxing thing is keeping me awake at night.”

He intertwines your fingers together and it’s comforting. Comfort you’ve been missing ever since a week ago. “Y/N, please just trust me okay? If I can get through these next few weeks I’m set and I promise you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“How can you promise that?” You look up fully at him and you’re a lot closer than moments ago.

“I don’t to make promises I can’t keep.”

You sure hoped he was right.

_____

Two weeks have gone by since your talk with Jungkook in the gym. He had resumed talking to you normally, although there was still something off about him. Then again, there was something off with you too. The intimate situation the two of you found yourself in a few weeks back, still hadn’t been fully discussed and it bothered you like no other. It bothered you because you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it to happen again—or even further. Fuck, you shouldn’t be thinking about Jungkook like this. But don’t you have a right to? Jesus you were so confused. It’s why you have found yourself at Beta Tau Sigma once again on a Saturday night, Jennie already lost in tow somewhere, and you’re standing with Namjoon. Even though your mind was clouded with Jungkook, Namjoon was good company at keeping you distracted.

“What’s up with you lately?” Namjoon asks handing you another drink. You furrow your brows before taking a sip. Your face scrunches up at the taste—not the best.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

Namjoon gives you a straight smile, “Don’t play stupid,” he says. You don’t even try to make up a lie. Namjoon is too smart for that.

“I don’t know, Joon,” you sigh, “I’ve just been going through a lot lately I guess,” you mutter over the loud music.

“I get it,” he says, “Wanna talk about it?”

You’re about to answer him when you suddenly spot a familiar head of dark brown hair across the room. It’s Jungkook and he’s with a girl—you recognize her from somewhere. She’s standing in front of him and he’s smirking down at her and says something that makes her laugh. Then you know where you’ve seen her before—the bathroom girl. Fuck her, you don’t even realize you roll your eyes.

Namjoon laughs, “Whoa, what was that for?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“W-what?” You look back to him and he follows where your eyes had been.

“Looking at Jungkook, eh?” He smirks, “Something going on between you two?”

You shake your head immediately, “No. Absolutely not.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not. Sure, Jungkook and you may have swapped some bodily fluids recently, but nothing else. You were also keeping a secret of his, one that if Namjoon found out about—would have him kicked out of the frat faster than he could blink. You glance back over to Jungkook one more time and find his eyes scanning the room. They land on you within 5 seconds and he shifts uncomfortably in front of bathroom girl.

“You sure?” Namjoon finds this situation funny. You don’t.

“Shut up,” you push on his chest slightly and he grabs your hand, pulling you towards him.

“Oh I can make you shut up,” he mumbles and you laugh as he closes the distance between the two of you. Namjoon’s lips are always soft and plump but that doesn’t mean he is always the most gentle. Namjoon is rough and sometimes—it’s just what you need. Jungkook’s lips on—

You pull away quickly from him. What the fuck?

“You okay?” He asks with concern.

You nod your head, “Yeah, I, just uh need some air,” you say. It was true—your head was now spinning and the alcohol wasn’t helping. You couldn’t believe you thought of Jungkook when kissing Namjoon.

“Alright, I’ll be by the bar.”

You leave Namjoon’s side and push your way through the hoards of people and loud music. You spot a door towards the back of the kitchen and use that as your opportunity. The air is cool but crisp. Just what you needed. There’s quite a few people outside surrounding a large bonfire keeping warm. You relax against the porch railings, staring aimlessly at the ground beneath you. You pour your drink out, knowing you don’t need to drink anymore of it. You nearly shit yourself when a voice comes up directly behind you.

“Y/N.”

You whip around, clutching your chest. “Jesus Christ Jungkook,” you say. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, a large flannel and sweatshirt covering his torso. He approaches you hastily and you don’t take your eyes off of his.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says, obviously trying to make small talk.

“I didn’t either until Namjoon asked me this evening,” you say and you instantly regret bringing up his name. Jungkook stiffens.

“Still good friends with him I see,” he bites his lip nervously, looking over to the bonfire. You squint your eyes at him. He sounds off and annoyed.

“I see you’re still friends with bathroom girl,” you shoot back. You’re not even drunk, barely tipsy, but the thought of Jungkook being annoyed at you and Namjoon nearly sends you. At least you know Namjoon well—the only Jungkook knows about that girl is her fucking mouth.

“Gotta an issue with that?” He runs his tongue against his mouth and he looks at your from the side.

You turn to him and this feels all too familiar. “Yeah, actually I do.”

“Well, I have an issue kissing Namjoon in front of me—are we even?” He cocks his head to the side and you’ve never felt more annoyed yet turned on at the same time.

“Whatever,” you brush him off running a hand through your hair, turning back to your front staring at the fire. “Last time I checked I don’t take orders from you.”

“I know,” he says and you feel him push his body against your side. Your breathing instantly picks up and you bite the inside of your cheek to steady yourself. One of Jungkook’s hands finds its way to your shoulder, trailing it down to your elbow, then pushing it through the crack of your arm to settle on your waist.

“Jungkook,” you say quietly, not wanting to bring any attention to the two of you. Jungkook’s head leans down, his temple brushing against yours. His hand rubs gentle circles on your waist and you inhale his scent deeply. Fuck. “Jungkook… are you drunk?”

He shakes his head, “No, are you?” You believe him. He doesn’t smell like alcohol nor does he seem tipsy.

“No,” you say. Jungkook pulls you impossibly closer to him and your throat feels like its closing up.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks and you turn your head up, your noses brushing together. What? When has he ever been this upfront? You hesitate to answer but soon nod slowly—just once—you needed to feel it again—just once again. He closes the gap between you and you nearly melt into him. One of your hands grabs his face gently, pulling him down to you. Your own hands find their way to his fluffy hair, entangling into the locks. He presses himself into you and you feel your heart beating out of your chest. You let out a small whine when he pulls on your lip with his teeth and it shakes you back to reality.

You pull away from him—your entire body on fire. He’s got you trapped against the railing and you don’t trust the old wood to support your weight much longer.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and you feel something hard pressing into your front and your throat goes dry.

“Come home with me,” he says, “Please.” Desperation. That’s what laces his tone and you’re sure your heart left from your chest. But—you know this isn’t a good idea. Blame it on being sober, but you’re not sure you should go there with Jungkook. Not right now at least. Your head was spinning and as much as you wanted to—you couldn’t.

“Jungkook,” your eyes focus on his chest, watching your hands grip his shirt gently. “I—We can’t, we shouldn’t,” you bite your lip nervously.

“Please Y/N,” he nuzzles his forehead into yours, his grip on your getting tighter, “I need you, please—“

“Jungkook, no,” you push him off of you carefully and he looks hurt and confused. “I’m sorry, I—I want to but—“

“But what?” Once again, he looks sad and maybe a little angry now? “II’m not Namjoon? Is that it?”

You shake your head, not able to find a good answer in your head. His hands drop from your side and so does your stomach. Without another glance at your frame, Jungkook walks away, pulling at the roots of his hair.

You get home alone that night. Fuck. You think you really may have messed up this time. No, Jungkook wasn’t Namjoon but Namjoon could never be Jungkook. The history the two of you have... god you were so confused. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt gravity pull you to someone more since recently, that someone being Jungkook. As confused as your feelings were, you cry some in your bed. You don’t sleep that night, worried that whatever wedge is driving itself between you and Jungkook again—won’t be fixable this time.

_____

Jungkook, maybe much not to your surprise, cuts you off again the next week. You haven’t spoken or seen him since the party. Since he wanted you to go home with him and you nearly did, but thankfully you used your head some. You missed seeing his face dearly and missed his smile even more. When did things get so complicated with you and him? Ever since fucking graduation in high school—nothing has been the same. It’s been years and years and it’s something you’ve never gotten over. The more you think about it, the obvious reasons begin to show. Maybe Jungkook means more to you than you thought? Maybe he wasn’t just supposed to be your best friend? What if you two had been destined for something else all this time? Or maybe you weren’t meant to be friends at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted when a familiar face walks into your shift at the diner. Taehyung is by himself, his backpack thrown lazily over one of his shoulders. He looks tired, but just like you, getting through the day. His eyes meet yours and give him a small smile.

“Sit wherever,” you tell him and he decides to sit along the bar, sitting across from where you stand.

“Good evening,” he gives you a small smile, running a hand over his face.

“Hey Tae,” you breathe out, handing him a menu. He holds up his hand, not wanting it.

“Just get me a latte, extra espresso please,” he says and you nod.

“Coming right up.”

It doesn’t even take you a minute to make lattes now. The process has become so familiar it’s become second nature. Mainly due to your own obsession with lattes and your determination to perfect them yourself. You top the mug off with some foam before sliding it over to Taehyung. He doesn’t wait for it to cool before taking a big gulp.

“Rough day?” You ask, leaning forward on your elbows.

“You don’t even know,” he grumbles, “I had a quiz in my hardest class today that I didn’t know about, therefore didn’t study for,” he pauses, “I had to pick up all the slack on a group project that’s due on Saturday and then I have had to deal with Jungkook’s dumbass all week and he was at his worst this morning,” he rolls his eyes.

The mention of Jungkook makes your heart flutter yet stomach feel nauseated, “What’s wrong with Jungkook?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you, “Don’t you know?”

“Um… he hasn’t talked to me in a week,” you look down at your hands, your mouth dry.

“Jesus fuck,” Taehyung groans, “No wonder he’s been in such a fucking mood. What did he do?”

You weren’t sure how to go about your answer. Um, yeah, so like Jungkook wanted me to go home with him to have sex and I did too and I didn’t and I don’t know why. Sounds great.

“It wasn’t him. It was me,” you pause, “He asked me to go home with him.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen slightly, a small smirk on his face, “Did you?”

You shake your head, “No, I couldn’t bring myself to. I wanted to but…” you trail off, slightly embarrassed to be telling Taehyung this.

“Goddammit,” he nearly laughs, “No wonder he’s pissy. Between you and tomorrow, kid’s got his work cut out.” You pick up Taehyung joking around but you still furrow your eyebrows.

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask.

“The 13th. Did he not tell you?” Fuck. His fight. Without talking to Jungkook everyday, you had forgotten about the fight.

“He mentioned it.”

“Are you going?” The question catches you off guard.

“What, oh no,” you shake your head, “No, he didn’t ask and I don’t think that’s something I wanna see anyways.”

“Trust me, he wants you there,” he says, “He’s just being a dick.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” you snap. “Every time something happens between us… he shuts me off. I don’t fucking get it.”

“Y/N he does this to everyone when he’s stressed,” Taehyung pauses, “Especially since, you know,” he shrugs. The fights.

You nod, “I get it,” you slump, “It’s still frustrating.”

“You don’t have to tell me that—at least you don’t live with him,” he gives you a laugh and you send a smile in return.

“How do you feel about it?” You ask him genuinely, “The boxing I mean…”

Taehyung squints his eyes briefly, “I think it’s stupid personally,” this answer warms your heart until he continues, “But if I was as good as Jungkook I would probably do it too. The money in these things are insane.”

You raise your eyebrows, “So I’ve heard.”

Taehyung nods before he gets a text on his phone. He reads it before smiling.

“Your girlfriend?” You probe curiously.

He clears his throat, “Uh, yeah,” he responds quickly before turning his phone over. “So, what exactly is going on between you two?”

“Uh, what do you mean?” You laugh sarcastically.

Taehyung deadpans his face, “You know what I mean. I know you guys have this weird chemistry, it’s obvious. Plus he hasn’t shut up about you since you started tutoring him. Y/N this, Y/N that… it’s disgusting.”

Did Jungkook really talk about you?

“Ask him, not me because I don’t even fucking know. I could tell you what Kim Namjoon and I are before I could define mine and Jungkook’s relationship.” You let out a laugh and other eye roll.

“I’m assuming you and hyung are… what do they say? Friends with…?”

“Yeah yeah whatever you wanna call it,” you swat your hand slightly embarrassed.

“Jungkook hates it you know,” he says, switching tones. “You and Namjoon.”

You slightly snort, “And why is that?” You could tell Jungkook didn’t like seeing you with Namjoon, even before last weekend after he voiced it.

“Because he knows Namjoon is the type of guy you’ve always wanted, not him.” This takes you completely off guard.

“Why would Jungkook care about that?” You furrow.

Taehyung shrugs, staying silent this time. You weren’t stupid—you knew what Taehyung was implying by saying what he said. It makes your stomach drop. Maybe Jungkook felt more for you than he supposed to as well?

“So are you gonna come tomorrow?” He asks.

“No Taehyung,” you say, “I don’t want to see Jungkook get the shit beat out of him.”

“Jungkook won’t get the shit beat out of him, I can promise you that.”

You eyes glance over to the door as a small group of people walk into the diner. You don’t say anything else to Taehyung as you walk over to greet them. You seat them and make your way back to Taehyung, but you can’t chat much longer as you now have a table to tend to.

“Listen Y/N,” Taehyung stops you before you can walk back over with menus for the group, “If you wanna come, just text me. Like I said Jungkook wants you there, whether he’s said so or not. Also, another latte please, you’re slacking woman.”

You swat him with the menus before walking away from him. Goddamn, these next 24 hours were going to be hell.

_____

You couldn’t remember the last time you were ever this nervous for someone aside from yourself in a very long time. You remember how nervous you were in high school when you got injured and Jennie had to double with a girl on the bench of the tennis team. You remember being nervous for your parents when you left for college. And now, you don’t ever recall a moment in your life where you have been this nervous for Jeon Jungkook of all people.

It was Friday at 3:43 PM and you day was slow but painless, and you had no official plans set for the evening. Taehyung had texted you, wondering if you wanted to hitch a ride along with him to the match. You had yet to answer him. His text mocking you from your screen and you wanted to pretend that you knew nothing of the boxing match but that was impossible.

[You 3:59 PM] What time should I be ready

You send the message before you could regret it and delete it. Jennie has yet to be home from going to the store and you would need a good, yet believable excuse for your absence tonight.

[Taehyung 4:00 PM] i’ll pick you up around 8

[You 4:00 PM] Sounds good. Have you spoken to Jungkook today?

[Taehyung 4:02 PM] no he’s been quiet all day. have you?

[You 4:02 PM] Nope

You don’t receive another text from him and you slump down on your couch. It had been nearing two full weeks since Jungkook had spoken to you. You felt like all of this was your fault, sending him mixed signals and unsure of your own feelings for him. From the secretive finger fuck to the gentle kiss you shared last week, Jungkook was on your mind 24/7—aside from taking exams of course—but he was all you could think about lately. Growing up, you obviously loved Jungkook and was practically glued to his hip, but even then you don’t recall thinking about him every single fucking second.

You pull at the roots of your hair and let out a frustrated groan. Maybe you should reach out? After all, without your initiation of friendship all those years ago, you wouldn’t be here now.

You pick up your phone and find Jungkook’s contact and before you can stop yourself, you tap the call button. Your hands are clammy and you know he probably won’t answer, but it’s worth a try. The line rings for about thirty seconds before it goes dead. That dumbass doesn’t even have voicemail set up.

Pissed off even more, you slam your phone against the coffee table and let out an exasperated ‘fuck’ before going to your room to take a nap. Fuck Jeon Jungkook, is the last thought you have before you drift off into sleep.

_____

Taehyung picked you up at 8:02, though you told Jennie it was Namjoon who picked you up and the two of you were having a night in. You think she believed it but left her before she could ask anymore questions.

“I just don’t fucking get it Taehyung, one second he’s fine and another he’s like a child throwing a fit,” you filled Taehyung in on how you tried to call him but to no avail.

“You don’t have to tell me how he is Y/N, I fucking live with the guy,” he groans from his drivers seat. “I just think he’s going through a lot right now… with school, his parents, the boxing, you… he’s never handle stress that well you know that.”

You let out a sigh, leaning against the window, “It’s just so frustrating trying to help him only to get cut off like this…”

Taehyung looks at you with an eyeful glance though you don’t notice. “Y/N, in his eyes you’ve cut him off too, you do realize that right?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What? No I haven’t?”

“Come on the little brat can’t keep his mouth shut. I know what happened with you two a couple weeks ago,” he says. You don’t say anything, cheeks getting warm. “And the weeks before that on our fucking balcony—“

“Okay what then Tae!” You interrupt him, too embarrassed by the memory.

“Jungkook is trying Y/N,” he says with a hint of a smirk, “He thinks you’re rejecting him,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly.

“Rejecting? C’mon Taehyung you know that I—“

“I know that you and Jungkook like each other, even though neither one of you have said anything, Jennie says it too.”

You narrow your eyebrows at your friend. “I don’t know what I think about Jungkook okay?” You’re being honest. You know you like Jungkook… but you’re scared of what that entails for the future. You want Jungkook in your future, you just don’t know what the right path is.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else as he pulls his car into a fairly full parking garage. It’s dimly lit and slightly freaks you out. Taehyung had to drive to the other side of the city to get here and you don’t recognize the neighborhood around.

“Stay close to me, alright?” Taehyung opened your door for you and you nod without any argument. You follow Taehyung out of the parking garage into the chilly air and you huddle by his side. The two of you walk down a couple streets before he turns down a dark, dimly lit alleyway.

“Taehyung what the fuck,” you whisper and come to a halt. His brown eyes bleed into yours despite the darkness and he takes your hand into his.

“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly, “I promise.”

You nod reluctantly and the you continue to walk down the alley, coming to a stop at the end where you spot the familiar face of Min Yoongi. He’s standing down a small flight of stairs beneath you two and he greets Taehyung with a stiff smile.

“Taehyung, what’s up,” he says, his eyes immediately looking over at you, “Y/N?”

You tighten your grip around Taehyung’s hand, Yoongi’s stare quite intimidating.

“She should be on Jungkook’s list.”

You stay quiet knowing Taehyung doing the talking is the best strategy. Yoongi looks down at a clipboard—old fashioned but effective you guess—before nodding.

“You guys are good. Hurry and find a seat, there’s a lot of people down here tonight.”  

“You got it,”  Taehyung gives him a small smile before you drag behind him down the stairs and enter through a heavy door. You already hear plenty of commotion as you enter a huge space a few feet from the door. Your eyes look around and you could see nearly a hundred people just in your line of sight.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung says.

“What?” You get nervous by his tone.

“I’ve never seen this many people here, goddamn.”

“Why are there so many people here?” You spot a large boxing ring, dead center of the room and your mouth goes dry.

“I guess people like rematches?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, noticing how some eyes are staring at you, making you shift uncomfortably in your boots.

“Probably in the locker rooms… wanna see him?” He asks.

You bite your lip. “Does he wanna see us?” You hope Taehyung says yes. It’s killing you inside not being able to see him, hear him.

“Guess we’ll find out, c’mon,” he smirks and you follow him closely. As you look around, you do notice people you somewhat recognize. Whether it’s from walking around on campus or some of your classes, all these faces are not too unfamiliar. Taehyung takes you away from the crowd of people, through another set of doors and down another hallway. With this much walking and standing, you would have worn something other than booties. You enter the “locker room” area and you suddenly feel queasy. What if Jungkook is mad that you’re here? What if he doesn’t want to see you after all? What if—

“Y/N?” Your thoughts are broken by a honey-like voice and you focus in on the source. Jungkook sits a few feet away from you and Taehyung, back leaning against a wall. He looks confused, but also pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here?” He gets up and does the unexpected—he embraces you in a tight hug. You return it without a second though, holding him close to you. He pulls away from you after a few moments and gives Taehyung a small hug too.

“Hey,” you say shyly.

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks his friend and Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m alright.” Jungkook looks at you again. “I didn’t think you’d ever come to one of these,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Me either,” you say with no expression. As much as you wanted to be happy—you couldn’t. You were pissed at Jungkook for ignoring you and you were pissed that Jungkook was about to fight. You eye his frame, a white t shirt and navy sweatpants hang low on his hips. He looks calm, too calm for your liking.

“Will you give us a minute?” Jungkook suddenly turns to Taehyung and he nods glancing at you.

“I’ll get some seats.”

Taehyung leaves you and Jungkook alone and you nearly feel like crying. What the fuck is this mess?

“Y/N listen to me,” Jungkook says stepping towards you, “I’m so sorry about thess past two weeks. I-I’ve been a dick for no fucking reason and it’s not fair to you.”

You don’t say anything as you stand there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Fuck I know I’m idiot and there’s no excuse… I’ve just been so stressed lately and you’re the best fucking part of my day—“

“Well why don’t you fucking act like it Jungkook? I’m sick of something happening between us and you acting like a I don’t exist for god knows what reason,” you raise your voice slightly.

“Y/N I,” he pauses, his hands finding their way to your shoulders, “I haven’t been honest with you and,” he pauses again and you feel your heart speed up. What’s he talking about? “I just wanna say—“

“Jungkook, you got five minutes,” the two of you turn to Park Jimin who seemed to come in at the wrong time.

“Fuck,” he says, “We’ll talk after okay?”

You nod hesitantly and before you can push yourself away from him, Jungkook places a kiss on your forehead and it makes your insides melt. Fuck, you meet his brown eyes, biting your lip nervously. 

A revelation springs into your mind; you think you might love him. He pulls you in for another hug, though this is one much shorter as Jimin is ushering you out of the locker room in the blink of an eye.

As much as you wanted to be mad at Jungkook, those thoughts had quickly subsided and replaced with butterflies and nausea. Did you really love Jungkook? You always have, but the feeling in the pit of your heart is pulling you to a different type of love. You cared about him, sometimes even more than yourself. You’ve always wanted the best for him, even if that meant sacrificing your feelings in the process. Now you were stuck between a rock in a hard place, much like you were back in high school when you had a crush on Jungkook. Fuck. And now you have to watch him fight someone like dogs,  

You shake yourself from your thoughts, as loud music flows through your ears and you look around for Taehyung. Luckily, his ashy hair color is easy to spot amongst the crowd and you push yourself to him, squeezing in between bodies and their chatter.

“My bet’s on Jeon,” a voice says.

“Fuck no, Eric isn’t gonna let the same guy beat him twice.”

You try to ignore the snide comments about Jungkook and when you get to Taehyung, he greets you with a smile.

“Hey, everything good?” He asks.

You lick you dry lips, “I don’t know,” you say honestly. Taehyung’s eyes drop and he nods. 

Suddenly, all the lights go out in the venue and a roar of screams and cheers fills the void. You stay still, pressing your body close to Taehyung. It’s not that you feel unsafe, but this environment—it wasn’t for you at all. You heart rate quickens when a man, give a few years on your age, gets into the boxing ring before you, the crowd cheering even louder for him. He bumps a microphone with his palm before bringing it to his mouth.

“Welcome, welcome!” He beams with a smile, “What an outstanding turnout we have tonight! You guys choose a good one to watch because tonight is the rematch of two of the best fighters I’ve seen in a long time…”

“Let’s give a welcome to our first fighter, weighing in at 148 pounds, 5 foot 11, Jeon Jungkook!”

Being an underground fighting ring, there isn’t a posse escorting Jungkook to the ring. He’s got Jimin by his left side, Min Yoongi on the right. Jungkook is shirtless, wearing only a pair of navy shorts, black and white boxing gloves on his hands. He enters the ring with cheers and you inhale and exhale deeply. You look up at Taehyung and he gives you a nod of reassurance to calm down. Jungkook jumps around in place a few times, shaking his arms and shoulders out. From your seat, you can’t read his eyes or facial expression—but he looks calm and unnerved.

“Coming in next, weighing in at 145 pounds, 6 feet tall, Kim Eric!”

Jungkook’s opponent walks in next, three guys surrounding him. He walks slow and steady, his bare chest tattooed beautifully, his boxing gloves a dark red. He enters the ring to cheers and this Eric guy’s gaze doesn’t leave Jungkook’s body one time. Jungkook hasn’t spared one glance at the guy and you find yourself somewhat smiling. Jungkook has always been a cocky-fuck when it’s come to sports which would usually annoy you, but here right now—he looked hot as fuck standing there as if he had no care in the world. Jungkook stands on the left corner of the ring, sitting on a small stool as Jimin and Yoongi talk to him. Jungkook nods, absorbing their information. Eric and his guys do the same.

Suddenly, both men stand and Jimin is putting a mouth guard in Jungkook’s mouth and with one last nod, he finally looks over at Eric, who has already made his way to the center of the ring with the announcer. Jungkook stalks over slowly, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Alright guys, I want a clean fight. No kicking, no cheap shots. If you get knocked down, I give you ten seconds to get up. You look me in the eyes and say you’re good before anymore fighting happens alright. We go for five rounds, unless more is needed. A knockout wins. Touch gloves.”

Jungkook sticks out his gloves for Eric but Eric only stares at him, ignoring the sign of solidarity.

“Fuck you,” Eric says to Jungkook and sends a chill down your spine. Jungkook rolls his eyes, backing away from him, but stays silent.

“Alright… ready… fight!”

Time slows as a bell rings loudly, the cheers get even louder, and you find yourself gripping Taehyung’s arm for support. Jungkook starts to move around the ring slowly, but Eric isn’t having that—immediately rushing to Jungkook to get a few jabs in. Jungkook manages to dodge them perfectly before Eric can corner him. Jungkook keeps his gloves high and never looks away from Eric. Eric comes after Jungkook again, jabbing once—twice—the third time hitting Jungkook square in the face.

“Shit,” you breathe out, eyes widening.

This time, Jungkook comes for Eric, his jabs coming quick and calculated, landing Eric in the body once. Jungkook jabs again and hits him in the face. Eric moves around quickly, Jungkook not quick to follow him. Eric comes after him again, Jungkook blocking his jabs, but missing at the end, leading to Jungkook getting hit in the face once again as well as a body shot.

Eric is coming in hot, throwing punches and jabs left and right, making Jungkook dance around to dodge them. After a few moments, Jungkook begins to fight back, landing Eric square in the face twice. You notice that Jungkook must have busted Eric’s lip as blood now protrudes from his mouth. This seems to send Eric into overdrive and attacks Jungkook quick and fast. You cover your mouth when Eric has Jungkook trapped against the rope, landing body punches after body punches.

“Alright!! Enough, break it up!!” The announcer gets Eric off of Jungkook and Eric starts to laugh in a very showman's way. Jungkook is breathing heavy and he tilts his head—a habit of his that comes out when he’s frustrated or angry. This seems to be both.

Jungkook and Eric continue to throw jabs at one another. Within a few seconds, the whole fight seems to change as Eric manages to slip past one of Jungkook’s blocks and lands him straight on the cheekbone. Jungkook’s body almost freezes before he falls back on the floor and you gasp at the sight.

“Fuck! Taehyung—“

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” he says but his eyes never met yours.

The announcer is on the floor with Jungkook counting down from ten and Jungkook finally sits up when he reaches the number four.

“You good son?” The guy asks Jungkook.

He nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jungkook gets up and walks around, stretching his neck around, waiting for the ref to announce the second round.

“That’s what you get motherfucker,” Eric says walking past him to his corner. Again, Jungkook says nothing before sitting down. Jimin takes out his mouth guard and lets Jungkook drink some water.

“Why is Jungkook letting him hit him like that?!” You ask Taehyung, looking up to him, “He’s getting his ass kicked!”

Taehyung shakes his head, “Jungkook’s smart Y/N… he’s trying to run Eric’s energy out. If Eric keeps swinging the way he right now, he’ll be passed out on his own soon.”

The second round commences and this time, it’s Jungkook who comes out fast. Jungkook soon has Eric trapped against the rope, landing jab after jab. The ref intervenes and lets them get some air. Jungkook’s skin is sweaty and red hot and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look as mad as he does right now.

Eric counters quickly, catching up with Jungkook again, landing punch after punch. Jungkook escapes but Eric sticks out a foot, causing Jungkook to trip. The whole crowd—yourself included—start to yell at the action. The referee pulls Eric back and points his finger at him. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know it’s a scolding by the way his mouth is moving quickly. You look over at Jungkook who shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s talking to Jimin as Yoongi cares to a cut on Jungkook’s eyebrow.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” you make out Jungkook saying.

The third round starts and it seems both Eric and Jungkook are equally fighting this time. Jungkook’s combinations are cleaner than Eric’s, anyone can see that, but the way Eric keeps landing in on Jungkook—makes you feel like this isn’t going to end well for him.

“Come on Jungkook!” You find yourself yelling in the chaos, your whole body shaking as Jungkook dances around the ring to get away from Eric. Eric has him trapped again, but with Jungkook’s strength, gets Eric off of him to turn the tables. There’s sweat and blood coming off both fighters and it’s got to be the most horrifying thing you’ve ever seen.

“Come on you little bitch,” Eric spits at Jungkook, “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Jungkook says nothing again, jabbing when he needs to.

“Fucking hell why won’t you speak to me you fucker?” Eric speaks again.

“I don’t have shit to say to you,” Jungkook finally retorts back. “You lost my respect when you sent those pussies to jump Park and I.”

Eric swings hard and Jungkook ducks, barely missing it by an inch. Eric is tired, Jungkook too, but Jungkook can see a weakness in him now.

“Come on it was all in good fun,” he says with a smirk, “You know what else would be good fun?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

“Kicking your ass,” he pauses and before Jungkook can do anything else, Eric swings down hard, landing on Jungkook’s body knocking the breath out of him. Jungkook stumbles backwards, holding his stomach, he lands again on the ground with a clunk. Eric stands over him, before taking out his mouthpiece, “And stealing your bitch you invited tonight.”

“Goddammit,” you mutter watching the scene unfold in front of you. No one knows what they’re saying to each other over the noise and you honestly couldn’t care. You just want Jungkook to get up and finish this shit.

Jungkook stands up, though with a visible wince in his face. He’s breathing heavy and is filled with pure rage. The fourth bell rings and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to attack him. Jungkook is fast and furious, landing punch after punch and you’ve never been happier for someone to get their ass kicked. Jungkook lands a punch straight across the face, causing Eric to stumble backwards. Even though you know nothing about boxing, Eric looks exhausted where Jungkook looks ready for more. With everything left in Eric, he starts coming after Jungkook. Jungkook blocks until he can’t block no more, but something in Jungkook’s stance changes. Jungkook steps forward, his right hand landing straight on Eric’s face cause his form to break. Jungkook steps quickly again, his left hand bringing an uppercut to Eric’s jaw.

The room nearly falls silent as Eric loses balance, going down straight on his back and head. When he hits the ground, the room erupts in a roar so loud it nearly deafens you.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. The ref is down on the ground, counting down from 10, and then it’s at 5 and then 3 and then—

“Ladies and gentlemen, Jeon Jungkook wins this rematch!” The ref grabs Jungkook’s hand and holds it up over his head and you find yourself jumping up and down, pulling Taehyung down for a hug.

“Taehyung oh my fucking god!” You exclaim. He smiles brightly at you.

“I told you, he knows what he’s doing,” he says and you nod. You couldn’t deny it now—as stupid as Jungkook was for getting involved in this, his talent for the sport was extraordinary. “Come on, let’s get to his locker room,” Taehyung pulls you by your hand and you make your way back to where you were earlier.

Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet, but you find Yoongi already in there, setting out a first aid kit.

“Hey guys,” he says, “Great fight, huh?”

“Yeah, it was brilliant,” Taehyung says. The door opening catches your attention and Jungkook walks through with Jimin.  Your eyes instantly meet and you can’t even stop yourself from running to him and throwing your arms around him. He exhales deeply with a sharp wince, returning your bone crushing grip with his own.

“Alright lovebirds, he needs to get fixed up,” Yoongi’s voice interrupts you two. You hesitantly let him go and he sits down in front of Yoongi, sitting forward on his knees. He’s still breathing heavy, dripping sweat everywhere.

“Fucking hell Jungkook, since when do you box southpaw?” Taehyung pushes his shoulder slightly and Jungkook only laughs as Yoongi wipes away the blood on his eyebrow.

“I’ve been working on it for awhile,” he says, “Just never had the right time to use it… until tonight at least,” he says giving you a glance. “Eric is all talk, no bite. I can’t fucking stand him.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be boxing him again anytime soon,” Jimin says, “He’s embarrassed himself twice now.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Yoongi chimes in, placing one of those bandaids that pull the skin together like stitches above Jungkook’s eyebrow. “No one will want to box you now knowing you can southpaw.”

Jungkook looks at you and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He said he wasn’t going to fight after this, but the way they are talking—it sounds as if he is.

“Well, I think my boxing career is probably over after tonight,” Jungkook speaks up as if he could read your mind. He tears his eyes away from you as the others look confused.

“What?!”

“Why?”

“Jungkook c’mon!”

“Guys,” he breathes out, “I made a promise, okay? Besides, I have enough money now, I don’t need anything else.”

Your features soften as you listen to his words. His promise was to you. A smile grows on your face as you watch his body calm down from his intensified state. Once Yoongi is finished, he packs everything up. The five of you talk amongst yourselves before Taehyung turns to you.

“You ready to go home?” He asks.

“I can take you home,” Jungkook says before you can answer.

“Okay,” you give him a small smile that he returns.

“Okay then, I’m gonna head out, I won’t be home tonight Jungkook,” he says.

“I know I know, at your girlfriends,” Jungkook swats his hand and Taehyung flips him off before leaving.

Jungkook stands up throwing on a shirt and slipping into Birkenstocks. “Come on,” he says to you, holding out his head. You gladly take it and it feels more like home than home ever has.

_____

“Fuck Jungkook, how much money is this?” You ask him as he hands you a white envelope as he unbuckles himself in the driver seat. The envelope is thick and you peak out of curiosity, your jaw dropping.

“I told you,” he says snatching it back from you, “As much food as I’ve bought you lately, hopefully this will last.”

You swat at his sarcastic comment before letting out a laugh. Instead of going home, you asked Jungkook to go anywhere but there. You’re parked outside of his apartment complex, which was fine with you. The two of you needed to talk. Not much talking goes on as a silence falls between you two.

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook.”

The two of you laugh as you speak at the same time.

“You first,” you say, turning your body to face him fully.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, “I know I said it earlier but I really am sorry about this past week. There’s not an excuse that justifies me acting like a complete dick to you, especially when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say.

“And when I said you’re the best part of my day… I fucking mean it. I’m sorry for coming onto you like I have, I just,” he doesn’t finish, his eyes looking everywhere but you.

“Jungkook,” you get his attention again, reaching over the console to grab his hand, “Don’t apologize for that. Yeah, you’ve been a dick each time something happens between us but that’s the apology I care about.”

“I just don’t know how to say it,” he mutters, caressing your hand gently.

“So you’re really not going to box anymore?” you inquire. Jungkook was good, more than good... it couldn’t be easy giving up on that. 

He shakes his head, “No. I told you I didn’t want you worrying about me anymore. I keep my promises,” his smile his sweet and you swear your feel yourself melting more and more into his touch. 

“Jungkook,” you let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t realize how much I needed you in my life until we became friends again. You know almost everything about me and I don’t want anyone else to ever take your place…”

It’s hanging there by a thread—the words on your tongue—and you’re not sure you can say them and they feel constricting—but you know you have to and—

“I love you,” the words come from your mouth and you feel like you could puke. “I don’t know when or why, but I’m in love with you Jungkook. You’re all I think about anymore and I don’t want anyone else when you’re right here.”

Jungkook parts his mouth, staring at you with a look you can’t read. Fuck, you fucked this up for sure.

“Shit—I know that was so rushed and stupid. Fuck I’m an idiot—“

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice interrupts you and you try to hide within your own body from embarrassment. With your hand of yours in his, he pulls on it, forcing you closer to him. You look at him wide eyed before he presses his lips against yours firmly. As usual, his lips feel so good and you melt into him. This is good right? What the hell is going on? You pull away from him after a few moments, an unsure look on your face.

He nuzzles his nose against your own before speaking, “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the night of our graduation.”

“Really?” You ask as you feel your palms sweat, heart racing.

He nods, “I’ve been in love with you for god knows how long now.”

A smile creeps upon your face and you let out a sigh of relief. Jungkook watches you with interest, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can take you home whenever,” he says quietly.

You’re quick to shake your head,  “No, it’s okay… I can stay, if you want,” your voice trails off and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze.

You don’t notice how Jungkook bites his lip but he does say, “Yeah. Of course.”

_____

Jungkook’s apartment is how you remember it, though a lot quieter without Taehyung here. You’re sure the reason Jungkook’s apartment is spotless is because of him. He has always been clean and organized and Taehyung… well he was Taehyung.

“I’m gonna get in the shower, my room is in here if you wanna chill,” Jungkook says and you give him a small nod. He rids his shirt before he even closes the bathroom door and it makes you gulp. This is new territory for the both of you. The two of you just admitted your love for one another and you’re about to spend the night with Jungkook? And not in a friend way? Jesus Christ you could be tripping.

You walk into Jungkook’s room and it smells just like him. His bed is neatly made and his desk is sprawled with two computer monitors and some notebooks from school. His walls are decorated as you’d expect—a Korean flag hanging, a ‘Saturday’s Are For The Boys’ flag—typical—and a few Beta Tae Sigma plaques scattered. What catches your eye is a wall of neatly lined photos taped to the wall. You look around at all of them with a smile. Most of them are Jungkook and his frat brothers, Taehyung, a few of his older brother, there’s even a picture of you, him, Taehyung, and Jennie from high school. One that catches your eye the most is one of just you and him. It’s an old picture but the memories from that day flood your mind. It was from your first week of freshman year here at university. Both of your smiles are wide and you two are hugging each other’s frames closely. Jennie took the picture you remember. It makes you smile to yourself, butterflies entering in your stomach. Did you love Jungkook then and didn’t know it? The way you’re looking at him in the picture would say so.

You suddenly feel an urge to be close to him again. You’ve never been a ballsy person but as you look back at the bathroom door that’s closed, your desire to be touched again by Jungkook again overwhelms your senses. Closing your eyes briefly, you don’t need much more convincing before your stripping yourself of your jacket and shoes. You kick off your jeans and sweater, leaving you only in your undergarments. You tip toe to the bathroom, grabbing the handle, opening it easy.

The shower water is loud and there’s steam in the small quarters. Jungkook is humming to himself as you start to take off the rest of your clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the shower curtain, pulling it back. Jungkook’s back is facing you but he hears you instantly.

“Shit Y/N you scar—“ he stops mid sentence as he takes in your naked frame getting in the shower too.

“Hi,” you mumble meeting his eye contact.  

“H-hey,” he nearly chokes on his own air, trying to keep his eyes up from your breasts.

“Scooch,” you smirk at him to move to get underneath the water too. He does as you say watching you curiously. You’re in the process of wetting your hair when his chest is pressed firmly against your back.

“This wasn’t expected,” he says into your ear, his hands moving to grip your waist from behind.

“You’re the one that wanted me to go home with you,” you say giving him an innocent glance over your shoulder. He laughs biting his lip, pressing them against the skin behind of your ear. You lean into the physical contact, feeling almost all of your stress go away instantly.

You spin around to look at him fully as it’s a frenzy whose mouth collides with whose. He leans down to grasp your lips in their entirety, pulling you closer to him than you ever have been. He pulls you away from the water so it doesn’t get in your face as he presses you against the shower wall. His tongue dips in and out of your mouth, his hands free roaming over your breasts and down to your ass, whatever he likes within the moment. Your hands grip his dark locks as he moves his mouth from your mouth, to your neck, down to your chest. He waste no time taking your right nipple in his mouth and you exhale deeply at the feeling.

You pull his face back to yours, kissing him again not able to get enough of his lips. His hands trail down from your ass to the front of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your wet center.

“Is this okay?” He asks as his fingers rub slowly back forth between your entrance. You can barely speak as his touch is setting you on fire but you manage to nod.

“Yes, please, Jungkook,” you say. He enters one finger, then another stretching you out nicely. Fuck you forgot how good this felt with him.

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he breathes heavily and you glance down at his hardening cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. Jungkook lifts one of your legs and starts to take his fingers in and out of you slowly and agonizing. He fingers you deep and rough and you can already feel a climax coming.

“Shit,” you croak out as Jungkook rubs one of your nipples, kissing your neck. There’s a pain at the back of your head at his force pushing you against the wall but it’s easy to ignore when it feels so good below your waist. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come,” you say as the snap inside of you is about to break.

“Come on baby,” his voice is deep and groggy. As if on cue, you feel your climax wash over you and you’re not shy to be loud. You know no one is here so it doesn’t bother you one bit. Jungkook kisses you against feverishly as he pulls his fingers from you. You feel impossibly empty but you know what you want to do and you’re not near anywhere tired. Your hands travel down to his front, grasping his hard dick in your hands. God, he’s so big.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook seethes through his teeth as you pull on the sensitive skin, all the way from his pubic hair down to the tip. He places a hand beside of your head, leaning forward against your forehead. His eyes are shut tightly and you lick your lips, wanting to take him in your mouth.

You push him away from you slightly and move down to your knees, your face front and center with his beautiful dick. You take no time to put him in your mouth which causes Jungkook to groan loudly.

“Y/N,” he says looking down at you. He’s never seen a better sight. You make sure to keep eye contact as you bob your head up and down his shaft. While one of Jungkook’s hands stays against the wall, his other grips your hair, fisting it into a makeshift ponytail. “Oh fuck—He pulls on your hair and it only makes you want to please him more. Your left hand go to his balls, the right helping you up and down his length. He pulls your hair again and you take as much of him as you can. His tip reaches the back of your throat and you gag around his length and Jungkook thinks he could actually cry. Watching you through half open lids, he decides this isn’t how he is going to come—not tonight at least.

He grabs your hair and pulls you away from him and you’re slightly confused when he brings you to your feet.

“Come on, I need to be inside of you,” he says and you nod eagerly as he turns off the shower. He leads you out of the bathroom in a frenzy, pulling up into his bedroom. You shut the door behind you and he pins you against it, kissing you hard and deep.

Both of you are dripping wet but neither of you care to dry off as he carries you to his bed. You settle on his lap as his hands rest on your waist tightly. Your hands grip his face just as tight but you’re careful not to touch his injury above his brow. You couldn’t believe he was just fighting two hours ago—that seemed like forever ago compared to now. A lot can change in a short period of time and it makes you slightly chuckle against his mouth.  

“What?” He breaks the kiss asking you with a hazy grin.

You shake your head, “Nothing,” you smile pushing his hair from his forehead. You liked seeing it. “I love you,” you repeat. And you probably won’t stop, ever.

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.”

“Let me ride you,” you whisper in his ear and his eyes light up like a child. “Are you clean?” You ask him. 

He nods quickly, “You?” You nod in response and both of you feel excited and anxious. 

You rub your hand against his length again and you hold it up as you adjust yourself to sit on him. As soon as his tip enters you, a shiver runs down your spine. As you sink yourself lower, groans come from both of your mouths, a deep moan erupting from you when you bottom out.

“Oh my god,” you breathe in and out to control yourself.

“Ride me baby,” he says and you start to move your hips against his. He fills up every inch of you and it feels so good. Your hips lift away from his and he chases them with his own thrusts. He kisses your neck as you throw your head back, your hands digging into his shoulders for leverage.  

“Fuck Jungkook,” you say seeing stars in your eyes, “You feel so good,” you whine.

“You have no idea,” he says against your sticky skin, one of his hands bruising into your waist helping you ride him in a fluid motion. “Goddammit,” he says.

As you grind against him, your clit rubs against his pubic hair, sending your toes curling. He senses that you’ve found your sweet spot against him and places his thumb there instead to rub the sensitive bud.

You feel yourself inching closer and closer to a second climax when Jungkook stalls your motion.

“Lay on your stomach,” he breathes and you do as he says climbing off of him quickly. He doesn’t even give you time to get there all the way before he’s grabbing your hips to pull your ass to him. He slides right into you and you nearly scream into his mattress. Your hands grip the sheets as he fucks you deeper from behind. He smacks your ass once, twice sending a loud whine from your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter trying to focus on Jungkook’s whines and small ministrations from his mouth. He reaches forward, rubbing your clit again and you want to die and go to heaven at the feeling. Neither of you try to be quiet anymore as you feel the second orgasm coming over you. You clench and unclench around Jungkook’s length as he stalls his thrusts to feel the action.

“Come inside of me,” you say, knowing both of you are clean and you have an IUD.

“Jesus,” he breathes, picking up his pace again chasing after his own high. As the sensitivity becomes too much, Jungkook finally lets go, coming deep inside of you. He holds your hips close against him, trying to deepen his climax as far as possible. The hot cum inside of you feels good and you moan at the feeling.

When Jungkook finishes completely in you, he pulls out with a sigh. You collapse against the bed, completely spent. Jungkook finds a clean rag in his pile of clean laundry and is quick to clean yourself and him up. You feel like you can barely move as Jungkook joins you in his bed. He turns you over to face him and he kisses you gently which you return happily.

“I love you,” he says for the third time tonight, kissing your nose.

“I love you too,” you entangling your legs together. The room is silent apart from your breathing and you’re about to go to sleep when he nudges you with his hand.  

“Come on,” he says.

“What?” You ask.

“Let’s actually take a shower now since someone wouldn’t let me,” he eyes you with accusation.

You squint at him before flipping him off. “Fuck off.”

_____

The next morning you wake up with Jungkook hugging you from behind, his face nuzzeled in your hair. You have no clue what the time may be, but you since it’s early by the way the birds chirp out the window. You stretch out your arms as best as you could and try to move your legs, but it doesn’t work since Jungkook’s heavy legs are tangled with your own. You’re tempted to fall back asleep but when Jungkook moves behind you, you turn to see his ruckus. You’re met with his brown eyes and you jump slightly, not expecting to see him awake. Both of you let out the faintest of laughs, not saying anything.

Jungkook leans over and kisses your lips, “Good morning.” His voice is groggy and he shuts his eyes again as you fully turn your body to his.

“Good morning,” you respond, watching the way his chest rises and falls gently. “How’d you sleep?”

“Hmm, really good,” he mumbles. You are about to join him in closing your eyes again until a loud rumble comes from your belly. Jungkook laughs.

“Hungry much?”

“Starving,” you groan, “I didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Why not?”

“I was too nervous before your match… I thought I would yak if I ate,” you answer. Stupid, you know, but it was your train of thought last night.

He opens his eyes again, “Let’s go to the diner for breakfast… employee discount.”

You glare at him, “Is that all I am to you? A fucking employee discount,” you say saracastically.

“And my girlfriend if that helps?” He raises an eyebrow. Your cheeks heat up and you smile.

“Welllll, since my boyfriend is rich now and gets a discount, I’m assuming he’s paying.”

He smirks, “Obviously.”

“Will you take me to my place so I can change? And then we’ll go?”

He nods, his hand caressing the side of your body, “As much as I wanna stay in bed, I could really go for pancakes right now.”

“Waffles are superior,” you remark.

He frowns with a disgusted face, “Get the fuck out of my bed you heathen.”

_____

Jungkook insisted on coming up to your apartment with you because he didn’t want to wait in the car, but you know he just wants to see you change in front of him. Boys are all the fucking same.

As you fumbled with the key, the door opens and whatever Jungkook is saying to you is suddenly drowned out when you see—

“Jennie?”

“Taehyung?”

The names leave yours and Jungkook’s mouth as you watch the scene in front of you. Jennie is sitting on the counter, Taehyung in between her legs with a coffee cup in hand. Could be worse but what the fuck is going on?!

“Shit,” Jennie says pushing away Taehyung. “Hey guys,” she smiles awkwardly. You and Jungkook look at each other confused before Jungkook speaks.

“Uh, Taehyung?” He asks and Taehyung is. as red as a tomato.

“Oh fuck,” Jennie mutters shaking her head. She looks at Taehyung for backup.

Taehyung pinches his nose before speaking, “Um… we’re dating.”

You and Jungkook have the same reaction as your mouth drops.

“Jennie is your secret girlfriend?” Jungkook asks.

“Surprise,” Jennie smiles again looking at you.

You look at Jungkook and shake your head at the four of you. What a fucking cliché.

The four of you go to breakfast together that morning and it’s like old times, just with a sprinkle of something new. As long as the four of you have known each other, you’ve always had each other’s backs. Even now, with you and Jungkook and Jennie and Taehyung—you know that would never change from here on out. Turns out, Jennie just thought her and Taehyung were friends with benefits, while Taehyung was telling everyone he had a girlfriend because he was that smitten with her. The four of you laugh at the situation at hand and you couldn’t believe everyone was back together... like this. As Jungkook’s pancakes and your waffles arrive, Jungkook’s beaming smile lighting the whole room you think to yourself—this is how it’s supposed to be. 

[hopeymchope]

Judging the Danganronpa x Sanrio character pairings

You may have already heard that a DANGANRONPA X SANRIO line of crossover merch was announced a few days ago! Which is obviously AMAZING, because they’re combining cutesy characters that have often been marketed to wee children with everybody’s favorite murderdeathkill game! I LOVE IT.

I have a niece who went through a Sanrio/Hello Kitty phase, so I actually know a few of these characters. In turn, this means that I have THOUGHTS on how the DR1 and Sanrio cast were paired up.

Granted, I still had to look up a lot of these guys and read about them. But now I feel adequately educated to the point where I can judge just how well the Danganronpa and Sanrio pairings actually match up. 

Makoto Naegi/Cinnamoroll - Obviously this totally works because Makoto IS something of a cinnamon roll, eh? EH? But Cinnamoroll is said to be shy albeit still very friendly. He also likes to seek out fun new adventures. So, aside from “very friendly,” I’m not sure that this sounds like Makoto. I also doubt that calling a character a “cinnamon roll” is common slang in Japan. So this is whatever.

Sayaka Maizono/Wish Me Mell - Mell has the power to connect people’s hearts by simply stating the feelings they keep inside. She was initially withdrawn and believed she didn’t have any friends, but the people who cared for her finally broke through her shell and convinced her that she DOES have friends. So uh, Maizono... I guess music can also bring out people’s feelings? And perhaps you could plausibly HC that Sayaka has often felt like her surrounding friends were “fake” and only there because of her celebrity status. There’s not really much to go on here. 

Leon Kuwata/Tiran - Tiran is an orange T-rex that is said to be scatterbrained but still a strong and reliable leader. Meanwhile, Leon has orange hair, and he’s certainly strong and kind of scatterbrained sometimes. It sorta works.

Kyoko Kirigiri/Marroncream - Marroncream is bright, positive, and fashionable. She is talented at making crafts and sweets. She lives in Paris. She has nearly nothing in common with Kyoko, although Kyoko did live abroad a lot in her younger years. So I could try to latch onto the Paris thing.

Hifumi Yamada/Pokopon - Pokopon is a raccoon that loves to read but dislikes ghosts and “the thunder god.” (uh... what?) He also finishes his sentences with the unusual suffix “-das.” Of course, Hifumi loves to write (which certainly is connected to reading), and he likes to end all names with a weird suffix (”-dono”), so I can see how they might make a cute pair.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru/Pekkle - Pekkle is a duck who is good-natured and kind. He loves to sing and dance. It kind of sounds like he should’ve been matched with Sayaka, but instead he’s here with Taka. While Ishimaru is definitely a good person, I don’t think most people would immediately describe him as “kind.” And he certainly isn’t known for his love of music.

Yasuhiro Hagakure/Monkichi - Monkichi is a laid-back, easygoing guy who is upbeat and loves puns. His dream is to become a poet. It’s said that once he sets his mind on something, there is no stopping him! And in comparison, Hagakure is... well, he’s kind of laid-back in the sense that he’s kind of lazy? But he’s actually pretty high-stress a lot of the time, too. Honestly, there’s not much linking the two.

Chihiro Fujisaki/Kurousa and Shirousa - Shirousa is the white one and is the older sibling to Kurousa, the brown one. Shirousa is described as an energetic leader and Kurousa is described as being nice but lazy. They like to make cakes. What does any of this have to do with Chihiro? Beats me. This particular pairing is nonsense.

Byakuya Togami/Badtz-Maru - Badtz-Maru is said to have a bad attitude and dreams of being “the boss of everything” when he grows up. He tends to act a bit selfish, and he mocks things he dislikes/disagrees with. He enjoys expensive food and collecting photos of movie villains. With the exception of that last point, I’d have to say that this sounds like a near-perfect match for Togami.

Mondo Owada/Goropikadon - The Goropikadon are a group of cave boys whose actual names are Goro (blue hair), Pika (pink hair), and Don (teal hair). Goro is always hungry and joking around. PIka is a thoughtful, shy mama’s boy. Don is serious and places a high value on honesty. Overall, I suppose that how quick Mondo is to get angry and resort to violence kind of makes him seem like a stereotypical caveman? But in terms of their distinct personalities, only Don’s focus on honesty rings true for Mondo. 

Toko Fukawa/Lloromannic - Another multi-character one. The Llormannic are a pair of creatures named Berry (the black one, who is male) and Cherry (the pink one, who is female). They are mischievous and love to play pranks on humans. Cherry was originally alone and created Berry for companionship; however, she mixed up her magic spell ingredients and used salt when she meant to use sugar, which resulted in Berry turning out to be a more hostile being than Cherry. I suppose the fact that Berry is a darker creation of Cherry’s sort of reflects the relationship between Toko and her other self, Genocide(r) Syo/Jack. However, Berry and Cherry are still best friends. Toko and Syo/Jack are definitely not that.

Celestia Ludenberg/Kuromi - Kuromi is the rival of a bunny named “My Melody” who doesn’t appear in this promotion. Kuromi is said to look “tough and punk” in her jester’s hat with the pink skull on it, but in reality she is very girly. She enjoys writing in her diary, reading romance books, cooking, and checking out good-looking guys. I suppose Celestia did have that dream of living in a mansion where she was served by handsome guys dressed as vampires? So... they both like hot guys? But that’s all I’ve got here. Pretty sure this pairing only exists for aesthetic reasons. And admittedly, their aesthetics mesh very well.

Aoi Asahina/Keroppi - Keroppi lives with his family on the edge of Donut Pond. He is bubbly, a fantastic swimmer and, because of the name of his home pond, is often associated with donuts and/or things that are donut-shaped. Ok, so this was an obvious pairing, then. They nailed it. Probably the single best pairing they came up with.

Sakura Ogami/My Sweet Piano - Yes, the character’s name is literally “My Sweet Piano.” She’s described as soft, kind, and girly. Given Sakura’s secret love of girly things, I can see how this soft, pink, girly sheep would be something she’d love to be around. 

Junko Enoshima (...?)/Hello Kitty - Hello Kitty (a.k.a. Kitty White) is described by Sanrio as “cute, bright, sweet, kind-hearted and tomboyish.” They also say that Kitty is very close with her sister, Mimmy. As for Junko... look, the only reason I think maybe this is supposed to be Junko is because Mukuro already has her own Sanrio matchup (see the next entry), but in terms of her appearance, this “Junko” sure looks like it’s “Junkuro.” The telltale sign is that giant bow on the left side of the head, which only Mukuro-as-Junko has ever worn. I doubt we’re supposed to be thinking that they did two Mukuros in two different outfits, though? 

It’s like this: If it’s Junko, well, I guess both Junko and Kitty are icons within their respective brands. And Junko tries to put on a “cute and bright” exterior persona, I guess? But that’s pretty thin. On the other hand, if this is Mukuro in disguise, this is actually a semi-decent matchup! Mukuro is arguably tomboyish and certainly very close to her sister (at least from her own perspective), so these two are not without their parallels. 

In either case, both Kitty and the Unknown Despair Sister have a big bow on the left side of their head. Which I think is the real reason they’ve been paired, honestly.

Mukuro Ikusaba/Little Twin Stars - Kiki and Lala are a pair of twins that were born on December 24th. Mukuro is one half of a pair of twins ALSO born on December 24th. Instant connection! Kiki (the blue-haired boy) loves fishing and inventing things. He is curious and cheeky. Lala (the pink-haired girl) loves drawing, writing poems, and cooking. She is rather timid. In short, the “twins with the same birthdate” thing is the only thing connecting Mukuro to these two. Still, it’s not bad.

Also, the most amazing thing to come out of this team-up so far HAS TO BE MonoKitty. Hello Kitty cosplaying as our favorite psychotic MurderBear? How great is that? SELL ME MERCH OF MONOKITTY.

[miserabull]

A very long meta-analysis on P2 Bad Grief

So, I've gone over every dialogue with this guy a few times, and there is some stuff I've never seen addressed before. This is a mix of analyzing and theory that have been in my head for a while, and I’d love to know if it all also makes sense to other people

The thing about Classic and P2 Grief, is that they are very different characters playing the same role. Who is Bad Grief? A thief, a kingpin of the town's criminal underbelly, and a smuggler working for Big Vlad. In P1, he's also a dangerous murderer who kills people for fun, but denies it, even claims that he kicks people out of his gang for daring to take up knives. Dude lies a lot. In fact, he maintains the lie up until the last route, the Changeling's, and then tries that on her too but ends up confessing. This is my very wordy way of saying that while I kinda agree with people who are like "he's not a violent murderer like P1 Grief", P1 Grief also claimed to not be one up to the last minute. I don't think they are making him a sadistic killer this time, yeah, but I'm pretty sure he's a liar, and that there's a darker secret. The game implies Grief keeps his cards close to his chest and there is more to him several times, like here, when you talk with Lara's reflection

Lara's Reflection: You see, she puts her stock in deeds and not in words. So Stakh was always close to her; for he would hear his heart, and act. A trait you share, Burakh.

Haruspex: And the most taciturn of us all, Bad Grief.

Lara's Reflection: He speaks so much yet does so much more.

or when Artemy confronts him at Aspity's Hospice:

Bad Grief: You heard about Rubin? Know why the Kin wants him dead? He's walkin' around all downcast, doesn't sleep. Says not to ask. Says it's safer like that. What's he done, I wonder? I wanted to ask Sahba, but maybe you know?

Haruspex: You're lying. That's not what you wanted to ask. I can tell.

Bad Grief: If I did lie, I wouldn't tell you the truth now anyway, would I? So back off. 

I'm not gonna go over the blowing-the-train tracks quest now, though I have some thoughts on it/what I think might be his plan there. For now it suffices to say that that whole thing is very odd, that his plan doesn't make sense(yeah, blowing up the tracks is a bad idea for his business. kinda meaningless though if the alternative is being hanged). That is to say, I'm pretty sure there's a hidden agenda there that we're probably only finding out in Changeling route.

So, what I mean is, if you think P2 Grief is harmless, or just a clown, or became a gang leader by accident, then, well. I think honey, you got a big storm comin'

A few more notes on Grief's character, and what I think of what we got so far:

-I believe the reflection(I have some thoughts about the nature of those too, actually lmao) is telling the truth, mostly. He is terrified, he doesn't want Artemy to think badly of him, he never wanted violence. P2 Grief is younger, more sympathetic, and very obviously more scared than his P1 counterpart. I don't think he's out there killing for fun. Still, I think he has a lot of blood on his hands anyway.

-I think his loyalty to his friends is sincere. He's kind of really big on companionship and loyalty, which fits, as a gang member. I really think that he wants to belong, to a gang, to a friend group, somewhere. Artemy mentions he's "always been weird" a couple of times, or stuff like "I knew you'd end up like this." and that thing with Lara's reflection... I think Grief was always a little bit on the margins, even in his own friend group, and that's why he made a place for himself as the leader of the misfits, of the people who don't fit what the town considers to be good society. I gotta get on with this because this is gonna be long enough without me rambling about every single thought and feeling I have about this bastard though

-He doesn't give away Stakh's hideout accidentally because he's goofy and dumb. He mentions more or less where it is like, three times. I think it's obvious that he's practically asking Artemy to go check on him, but he doesn't want to be a snitch, so he plays the fool like "Oooh no I gave you a hint, I sure hope you don't go looking for him now, don't ask me because I’d never tell!!". He's playing the clown, he's not that stupid

Okay, now we're getting to the heart of things. In P1, along with the reveal that he's actually a violent murderer who played another violent murderer(Barley) into taking the fall for his crimes, we get something else: he's working under the patronage and protection of Vlad Olgimsky. In P2, they put a lot more emphasis on that, Grief will tell you about it in the first AND second conversation you have. There is even a certain imagery associated with it... actually, allow me a quick digression here, I wanna go over some motifs around Grief. 

Grief is pretty into clockwork and gears, going by his choice of decoration for his Lair. The town itself is compared to a machine several times, by himself, by Big Vlad, and regarding how the Kains view it. I risk to say that the way Grief sees it is rather different from the Kains, at least at first.  For him it seems to be more of a blunt factory machine, while to the Kains...it means something else, more complex. Grief seems to have glimpsed what that is inside the Cathedral, near the end. That reminds me of something else, in the Diurnal End when Grief talks about how he used to be a clocksmith before, and now he's going to be "another kind of clocksmith", I don't think he's necessarily being literal in either case. Curiously, there's also a Clocksmith inside the Cathedral in Marble Nest...but I'm going off topic again

Bad Grief: Not a keeper of stores, but stories. This town, this great machine, the gears don't turn on their own, no, not till they're slick with secrets. 

But so, webs and puppets. We return to Vlad Olgimsky(old), who uses the metaphor of his “web”. There's also an important character in Grief's journey that is strongly associated with (spider)webs and strings, and that's Aglaya. The most notable time Grief himself refers to it though, I think, it's in the Theatre of Death, if you let him die:

“My path was not called 'The Spider'. No, think wider. It was 'The Silkworm'! The end of a railroad, I pulled strings firm; unaware someone more cunning pulled mine upstairs.”

So about that. He’s referring to the PTB right? Probably, but not only. A theme in Patho is like...these layers of manipulation. I’m gonna pass the mic to P1 Clara and Saburov for a second:

Alexander Saburov: Begin with the Olgimskys. That is the most important sin for me, and the least for him, for it is not his fault. So did Olgimsky protect his illicit trade? Did he benefit from it?

Changeling: He didn't just benefit; he presided over it. Grief was his stooge.

Alexander Saburov: Now then, we shall skip the issue of the barber gang, since it's clear now who their true mastermind was... thanks to your courage, my brave girl.

Changeling: Don't skip it just yet. Barley was as much of a puppet in Grief's hands as Grief himself was for Olgimsky. Everyone has their toys.”

Grief is a puppet in Vlad’s hands both in P1 and P2, as there he says he’s Vlads “eyes and ears” in the warehouses. In the Cathedral, he seems to more or less realize the extent of it, and how it goes against what he always wanted in the first place: to not be trapped by anything. 

Bad Grief: I used to be a thief, yet they made me a storekeeper. And what a perfect fit I made! I got my Warehouse kingdom, and with it, the insides of the Town's great machine. I kept Vlad's riches while havin' all I could dream of. Can't imagine a sweeter life.

Funnily enough, by that time he’s trapped in someone else’s web: Aglaya’s. That seems to be his thing, he thought he was in control and playing everyone, knowing all the secrets and pulling strings. In the end, he’s a Silkworm in the web of bigger fish. I mean, spiders.

Bad Grief: ...Yet they, too, are controlled by someone. Insane to think what kind of teeth you need for that.

But okay. Back to the start, I believe Grief has a lot of blood in his hands even before shit breaks loose. The things he seems to be most afraid of are also… interesting. This ties to his connection to Big Vlad, and the Kin.

Grief’s role in the payroll seems to be as a stool pigeon. He knows where everyone goes, what people are talking about, what they don’t want to become public. And he responds to Big Vlad. What I think is, hm, you know, even after Victoria passed it seems like the Kin and the Bull Enterprise never really defied Olgimsky, or had a leader in any way. Grief, too, seems to enjoy a pretty comfortable life for a gang leader. As an important piece to Vlad, he really doesn’t have that much to fear, since the guy “owns everything” and is very explicit to Artemy about how he can destroy anyone who doesn’t obey him. And probably has done that before. My guess is, Grief kept the machine working right by tattling, so no leadership or enemy to Vlad’s Enterprise could rise. I’d speculate that Vlad possibly paid the favor not only financially, but by maintaining Grief in that position. Basically, I think with Grief’s info, Vlad could eliminate any potential problem. That would mean that maybe without even having to shed blood himself there might be a lot of deaths Grief is responsible for, not to speak of the maintenance of that horrible system in the town. I think the route they are going for here is that Grief is a class traitor.

Why do I say that? Well, first let’s look at Grief’s relationship with the Kin: he’s remarkably close to them for a townie. Geographically, obviously, and also in the sense of living on the margins of society, but he also shares many of their superstitions, and seems to hold Aspity’s opinion in high regard(even calls her Sahba). I find it easy to believe that many of his men are part of the community as well, due to not being welcome in the town. At that time we see him in the Hospice though, and talking with the Kin people there, it’s pretty clear that they are planning some sort of uprising. That it’s imminent. Grief seems to know it. Seems to be absolutely terrified of that too, and to feel betrayed by Vlad.

Bad Grief: It's too late for me, Cub. I've only got one road ahead of me now. Perhaps the outbreak is for the best... Plagues are like fires, people forget old scores. And all hell will break loose here soon.

Haruspex: Any dark prophecies to share? You're the criminal mastermind here, after all.

Bad Grief: No need to prophesize. People fear hunger. Even honest workers will turn their hatchets and hammers to crime. Burglin' houses, lootin' corpses, guttin' each other. They will. Oh, they will.

Haruspex: Not all of them, Grief. Not all.

Bad Grief: The turf's so dry, you don't even need a match-a glare would start a fire. And when the Kin bares its teeth, that's when we'll all dance! They're slow on the start, but oh so fast on the draw! The Master likes them mute and obedient, but apathy makes them that way, not stupidity. They're only obedient till the time comes. And here it comes.

And the people who lose their jobs? They won't be too fond of staying home. They'll find new hobbies, like looking for food, or venting their anger. ...And Fat Vlad shut his facilities down the day before yesterday, didn't he? Crafty... Didn't whisper so much as a single word to me. Do you think he knew?

At the same time he seems to think that he deserves this, and it’s inevitable. “We reap what we sow”, paraphrasing him. He talks a few times about how there’s a vile beast inside each person in the town, about how they are all wretched and everything, including him, which I think might just be a way of coping like “yeah, I sold out, but anyone would do the same if they were in my place”. 

So, yeah. What I think is that Grief was a guy that had no power and money, with absolutely no perspective, who due to his very particular skills had an opportunity to climb up and took it(all while still getting to pretend he’s an outlaw, free from the chains of society!). And it’s...very bad. And he knows it’s very bad, and he’s not evil or sadistic, but he’s immature, cowardly, and desperately wants to be in control of his own destiny, and to not be alone, and all that. He’s still Artemy’s childhood buddy, a loyal friend, and someone who never really wanted to cause that much damage. He also knows that what he did is unjustifiable, and that no matter what he truly feels, the damage is done and he’s guilty of horrible shit.

[thebiscuiteternal]

Since the exchange reveal was today, I can finally cross-post this here.

“A Working Relationship” Sci-Fi AU, Artificial Intelligence, Secret Histories, Intrigue, Finding Your Place (and getting a crush on your android boss)

__________

“I don’t care how smart he is, you’re not putting a Jin on this ship!”

His first reaction is a flush of anger. The second is a barely-smothered explosion of laughter.

In all the insults he’d borne over his parentage in his lifetime, this had to be the first time in… well… ever that it was his father’s side being disparaged.

But when he peeks around the corner and sees who’s arguing with the Admiral, he immediately understands why.

The speaker is a perso-core droid.

Meng Yao has no illusions about the treatment of the droids custom-ordered by the ports his father owns. He’s even met some of them, when they came to drop off another meagre payment to his mother. Delicate, beautiful dolls designed for little more than to be stared at… or played with.

Easily broken, and just as easily replaced.

His still healing ribs give a throb. He can relate to the feeling.

He can use it, too, he realizes, a plan coming together in the back of his mind as he watches the pair bicker.

“Excuse me.”

They both turn at the sound of his voice, and the droid’s eyes narrow, photoreceptors and the light patterns decorating his body briefly shading closer to red than their usual pale green. He’s reasonably sure that if that long dark hair and silver skin weren’t synthetic, he’d be bristling like an offended Firenian Raptor Cat.

It’s an uncomfortably attractive look.

He immediately squashes that thought, then bows, carefully emphasizing the stiff discomfort of the motion. “I apologize for causing any discord. It’s true that my father is Jin Guangshan, but I have no association with the company, nor the ports that it owns.”

“You approached him for work two stationary cycles ago,” the droid says, voice tinged with suspicion.

He had been made aware his background had been searched from the moment he’d been identified as a Jin, however, so he is ready for that. “My late mother desperately wished for me to join the family business. His, of course, not hers. But visiting him has proven to be a mistake. It’s clear now that my father has a very similar opinion of his illegitimate children as he does his droids.”

He opens one of the side panels of his flight suit to show off the bruises that still prominently mottle his skin despite two visits to a medical ward he could afford.

It’s the briefest flicker-flash, a barest twitch of synthetic musculature that most people wouldn’t notice on a human, much less a droid. But the reaction is there, and he can feel the emotional shift in the air as the droid and the Admiral look at each other, the argument between them now silent instead of snapped.

After a few moments that surely feel longer than they actually are, the droid makes a noise that would have been a huff from anyone with lungs and turns away. “One full planetary rotation,” he grumbles, then stalks away down the hall.

If the droid means the planet they’re currently in orbit over, that’s thirty days by the timers in the ports. “Is that to be my entire billet?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to let it sound like a complaint.

Admiral Nie shakes his head. “Probationary period. If Sang-er declares you a fit for Baxia’s crew by then, we’ll re-draw your contract for a more formal position.”

“You value his opinion very highly,” Meng Yao says, careful to keep his tone neutral, lest the Admiral think he’s probing.

Which he is, but-

“As well I should. He's been serving with our ships since before I was born, after all; he knows the fleets inside and out down to the last fastening and half-byte of data."

Something about the way the Admiral says that lingers in the back of his mind even as he’s herded down to the ship’s infirmary to have his ribs properly treated. It’s hardly uncommon for the owners of a particularly well-made droid to brag about them, but to his ear it sounds… odd.  

Less like an owner pleased with his possession and more like a younger brother proud of his elder.

He’s finished settling into his cabin, what few things he owns unpacked and stowed away, when something twigs in his brain.

Sang-er.

It couldn’t possibly be what he’s thinking… could it?

---

The first week of Meng Yao’s temporary new job starts with a surprise and ends with a realization.

Given his prior experiences with employers and Sang-er’s clear dislike of him, he braces himself for the bottom of the heap and jobs like cleaning over-boiled acid out of engine cells. Instead, Sang-er puts him through a mentally grueling -and yet actually somewhat satisfying- examination of his skills, then unceremoniously shoves him straight into financial work.

Tracking numbers and allocating data has always been something he could do in his sleep if he so wished; though he doesn’t exactly let his mind wander, the tasks are easy enough that they allow him space to observe.

He wasn’t wrong, he decides, in pegging the relationship between his human boss and his mechanical one as being something akin to siblings.

Which really only lends further credence to the theory his other observations are steadily building.

Observations like how Sang-er is simply too advanced for a perso-core droid. He sifts and sorts information, skimming star maps and calculating alterations via hard-light illusions generated from his own body, and does it all with a speed and ease that should have overtaxed him a hundred times over. Small-droid cores simply aren’t designed to hold or process that much information that fast.

But a ship’s core, on the other hand…

When he’d been small, a friend of his mother’s had dreamed of one day leaving and joining the Qinghe fleets, drawn by the near legendary status of Nie Zhuyun and her ship Huaisang. A captain so sharp and daring and a ship so clever and nimble that people claimed she had somehow bonded her mind to the core to make them a perfect symbiosis.

How many of the tales his mother’s friend told were true were arguable, but what had been true was that when the Wen Chancellor had finally succeeded in his near singleminded obsession to have the ship destroyed, its core had never been found in the wreckage.

Nie Mingjue had said that Sang-er had been serving the fleet since before his birth, but that didn’t mean it had always been in the same body.

And then there is the second most important observation: Sang-er never leaves Baxia.

He’d been unsure about that one at first. Even though they are docked, most of the crew remain onboard a good portion of the time. But after a few days of watching, it has become clear that while even the Admiral occasionally goes out into the port for one bit of business or another, Sang-er stays on board at all times, sometimes with some gentle but pointed reminding on the Admiral’s part.

As if the droid is being purposely kept hidden.

And he can guess from whom. His father has a very good business relationship with Wen Ruohan; even though the ship is docked in a port that isn’t directly owned by the Jin family, there’s a fairly large presence of both Jin and Wen contingents. If he’s right, and Sang-er really is a reconstruction of Huaisang’s core-

He stiffens, then reaches out to stop the flow of numbers he’d been monitoring.

When he had gone to that first medical ward… there had been…

He closes his eyes and sucks in a sharp breath, then lets it out slowly.

"There a problem?" a nearby officer asks.

"No, sir. Just needed a moment for the eyes," Meng Yao says, and then gets back to work.

---

His thoughts nag at him for the rest of the designated day hours and follow him into his bed that night. They’re still plucking at his nerves the next morning, annoying him enough that he barely touches the breakfast he would have gladly stolen -maybe even committed violence to get- from a rich man’s table not too long ago.

If he's right, then he has inadvertently picked up some information that would be extremely valuable to the Admiral and Sang-er.

But to use that information, he will have to do something he absolutely despises.

Tell everything.

There is no safety in full disclosure. Keeping things close to his chest had been the only way he’d survived the arduous journey between the port he’d grown up in and the central hub where his father resides.

But Sang-er has already proven very capable when it comes to checking up on those he does not trust. If he withholds anything that he overheard, and Sang-er finds out he’d done so, then being ousted from the ship is probably the best thing he could expect.

And… he... likes it here.

It’s hard to admit that, even just in his own mind. He’s only been employed on Baxia for a week.

And yet something in his heart just settles at the idea of staying here in a way he can’t remember feeling in years. The Admiral checks up on his wellbeing. His other crewmates treat him as his station befits. He’s comfortable in the jobs he’s been assigned. Even Sang-er -for all the droid’s aversion to him- judges his work fairly and takes his opinions into genuine consideration. Comparing the crew he’s found himself with to the tittering sycophants who’d taken such glee in watching his father reject him-

He bites his tongue to stop the flow of bitterness before it becomes overwhelming and clouds his thoughts.

The point is that, for the first time in a very long time, he has found himself a place he does not want to give up.

If that means having to lay all his cards on the table, then… then fine.

He reaches a point in his tasks that he can safely pause for lunch, but instead of going down to the dining hall, he goes looking for Sang-er.

---

After more than a little unsure wandering and some eventual directions from a couple of helpful crewmates, Meng Yao finds the droid in question in one of the small-ship hangars, surrounded by a star map and several of their scout pilots.

For a moment, his breath catches in his throat.

In the dim lighting of the hangar, Sang-er's eyes and the geometric designs decorating his form glow brighter, mingling with the reflective light of the illusory stars against silvery skin. With one fingertip, he draws flight paths and points of interest, directing models of their ships less like he is ordering soldiers and more as if he is conducting dancers.

It’s hard not to stare, and in that moment he understands better some of the particulars of the information he’s about to relay.

Drawing up his nerve, he straightens his back and approaches the knot of people just in time for the lights to come back up and the star map to vanish into the palm of Sang-er’s hand. A couple of the younger scouts wave to him, drawing the droid’s attention in his direction.

“Please excuse me if I’m interrupting anything, but may we speak in private?” he asks quickly, before any potential judgements can be made.

Sang-er regards him silently, expression completely neutral, then tilts his head in acquiescence. “You’ve all got your assignments,” he says to the scouts. “See you in fourteen days.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Follow me,” Sang-er says as he turns on his heel, and Meng Yao obeys.

Their destination turns out to be the hangar manager’s office, or what would have been the hangar manager’s office if they didn’t have Sang-er. The doors close behind them with a swish and click, but Meng Yao barely hears it over his own heartbeat.

He swallows hard as he watches the droid lean against the desk.

Okay.

All cards on the table.

"Wen Ruohan knows that you're Huaisang."

Sang-er doesn’t flinch or stiffen or show any other reaction that would give away a human but, like their first meeting, Meng Yao feels the subtle shift around them. "Interesting. And you've come to this conclusion because…?"

It’s not an outright denial. No automatic accusations of wild imaginations or delusions or… anything like that. Just a quiet demand to show his work, like the evaluations before. Meng Yao can’t help but find it oddly soothing for this to be treated as nothing more than a basic report despite the severity of what he’s revealing.

“There’s a specific medical ward in the district of Koi Port that most of the residents pretend doesn’t exist. At the time I was… dismissed, it was the only one I could afford to visit. One of the other patients there was complaining that a job for the Wens had been taken from him and handed over to shifters employed by the Jins.”

That gets a visible reaction as Sang-er’s hands clench on the edge of the desk he’s leaning on.

It’s an entirely understandable response. Shifters are the worst of the worst when it comes to orchestrating and carrying out the theft of high-end droids, and their services don’t come cheap at all. For someone like Wen Ruohan, who already has so much power of his own, to enlist them from another company…

Well, the implication is clear.

“Go on,” Sang-er says, and Meng Yao doesn’t fail to notice the tension that’s entered his voice.

“He didn’t specifically describe the target, but he did mention it was aboard the flagship of the Qinghe fleet, and that the backer had ordered it to be captured fully intact, or else. No offense to any of the other droids here, but there’s no one other than you who could possibly garner that kind of demand. And no other reason why Wen Ruohan would make it.”

“I see.” Sang-er’s expression still hasn’t changed, but the words are decidedly even more clipped. “And what price would a Jin expect for information like this?”

There’s the suspicion that he’s been waiting for.

All cards on the table, Meng Yao reminds himself for what may be the tenth time. Or the twentieth, he admittedly has lost track. If he doesn’t remain honest now, he stands to lose everything.

He allows himself one more nervous swallow before answering. “I don’t know… probably something obscene, honestly. I want to be extended to a full contract.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

Sang-er blinks at him, unable to catch the surprise from flickering across his face quickly enough, though it’s quickly schooled away. “That’s it,” he repeats, arching one eyebrow disbelievingly.

“You’ve already given me nearly everything I was looking for when I originally went to meet my father. I want to keep that,” Meng Yao says. “The rest… I will come to terms with eventually.”

There’s no immediate response, and the silence stretches uncomfortably between them as Sang-er appraises his words and everything else. It’s hard not to squirm under the stare.

Then Sang-er’s expression visibly softens, and the sight nearly knocks the wind out of him, it catches him so off guard .

Oh, that’s just not fair.

He quickly recovers, standing straight as Sang-er pushes himself away from the desk and walks past him.

“Well, come on, then,” the droid says, and he absolutely does not shiver at the new warmth in his voice.

“Where are we going now?”

“To give my recommendation to Mingjue and have you moved to more permanent quarters. And then we will start planning to deal with this new development.”

We will start planning, he says.

Meng Yao finds he very much likes the sound of that.

[maozijun]

Mao Zijun Xing Fan Interview

Removing the “adonis of period-costume dramas” label, and returning to a Republican era drama

Before Killer and Healer (or KillHeal hence), Mao Zijun had not filmed a republican drama in a long time. For almost the past five years, the audience’s impression of him has been his costume dramas, such as Qin Wuyan from The Legend of Chusen, An Qinxu from The Glory of Tang Dynasty, Yin Yiren from The Legend of Haolan, and so on and so forth. Because most of his dramas are costume dramas, as it happens, offers that come to him are the costume dramas.

Thus, when an offer for KillHeal, a TV drama about “drug crackdown” set in Republican China, appeared before Mao Zijun, he accepted it without a second thought. “At the time, I felt that I didn’t want to keep shooting costume dramas.”

If “costume drama” is a tag the audience associates with Mao Zijun’s role and acting, we can also claim that “zen,” “placid,” and “easy-going” are impressions he leaves on most people. Other than for the purpose of promoting the broadcasts of his new dramas, he seldom appears in public. If he “wasn’t at home, [he’d] be hanging out, or watching movies.” To the public, it’s as if he’s been “spirited away.” As a regular whose name ranks on the “skilled actor without due fame” chart, regardless how many times he’s been asked about the matter, his response has always been “I really haven’t paid it much attention.” His response may seem like a pleasantry, but he means it from the bottom of his heart.

Mao Zijun knows that ever since he became an actor, his career has been successful for the most part without any major setbacks, and he’s met many great people along the way. From his first TV drama Beauty's Rival in Palace when he cooperated with Lin Xinru, he stumbled into the entertainment industry and was swept along despite his inexperience and unworldliness. Including Director Yu Zheng who was willing to give him the male lead roles for The Legend of Haolan and The Matriarch. “So I thought I’ve had good luck. I’ve met people who appreciated me and were willing to give me opportunities. I’m very grateful.”

Mao Zijun’s “zen” attitude, however, doesn’t extend to everything he does. When there’s a role he really wants, his “wolf-like ambition” is brought out. When it comes choosing projects, he doesn’t compromise either. “I think everyone has the desire to strive for things they don't have; regardless of where you are in life, you wish to become better, you wish that you can climb higher. It’s a never-ending climb.”

Regardless of whether he’s gained fame and popularity, or remains a fine wine waiting to be discovered, “becoming better” is a creed he lives by and acts upon.

- 01 - Shooting KillHeal was an effortless process

What made Mao Zijun “return” to KillHeal after a long separation from republican dramas was its story and Jiang Yuelou’s personality. Jiang Yuelou is a morally grey character: a police officer and Chief of the Inspection Department. He's made law enforcement and drug crackdown his lifelong war, and it’s an undertaking he’s willing to sacrifice his life for. Although a patient with manic depression (known as bipolar disorder in modern clinical terms)--which results in his irritable, violent, and stubborn personality and tendency to be a lone wolf--he’s upright at his core, and there’s a gentle side to him deep down.

When Mao Zijun saw the script, he knew that this character had a lot of potential and creative room to work with. Precisely because of the great amount of creative room, on top of Jiang Yuelou’s vivid and distinct personality, filming for KillHeal was a relatively easy-going process for Mao Zijun despite the character’s lifelong angst and suffering. The character was rich and human per se, “so there was no need to brood over some things,” and it could be rather realistically portrayed. By the same token, the more one could ease himself into character, the better the final results.

Many actors determine the difficulty of portraying a character by criterion of the character’s degree of complexity, or their own compatibility with the character. In this respect, Mao Zijun is somewhat different: his criterion is whether the character can spontaneously come to life in the mind’s eye. “When you’ve read the entire script and discover that the character is very vivid and lifelike--his motives, intentions, behaviour and course of actions, all of which constitutes his rich psychological wiring--you will be able to portray him with relative ease, and not based on whether he’s similar to you. “Compatibility is only one aspect.”

Even if you were to act a character completely different from yourself, “you can imagine yourself in his shoes--what he would say or do” because he’s such a vivid character. “You can effectively get into character.”

In crafting Jiang Yuelou, Mao Zijun largely relies on following the script, his character changing with the progression of the plot; as a result, Jiang Yuelou’s uncontrollable violence, uncompromising ways, and other destructive habits doesn’t extend beyond the character and affect the actor himself. Unlike other actors whose characters took a mental and physical toll on them, Mao Zijun isn’t a purely immersive actor.

“Filming for a movie may require more personal feelings and emotions, but for a TV series, I think it’s half-and-half. Except for particular emotional scenes, that is.” In KillHeal, for example, the emotion expressed through Jiang Yuelou’s eyes when he’s solving cases, or reaction to receiving news, are all achieved through acting techniques. But for scenes where he’s facing the death of his subordinates, his mother, his adoptive father, his brother, and other loved ones, his reactions and expressions of pain must be nuanced and highly faceted. Even for crying scenes, he must cry in widely differing ways. For these scenes, Mao Zijun must lend his own emotional faculties to the character.

However, he does not believe tears are the only way to express his character’s emotions. When his younger and less inexperienced co-star, Ian Yi, consults him about his worries of being unable to shed tears, Mao Zijun tells him, “Why must you shed tears? Tears do not mean everything. The more dramatic and emotionally heavy a scene is, the more you must relax yourself.”

Filming to Mao Zijun is in fact a creative process where he imagines the character, then completes him. Hence, for every character he has acted, Mao Zijun would forget about the character. In his next drama, he would similarly imagine the character, understand his character, and the cycle continues.

So far, he believes there has yet to be a character that requires a lot from him mentally and psychologically, or even one that took him a long time getting out of. But, he hopes he will encounter such a character; a character that can let him experience more, feel more, and empathize with more.

KillHeal was a project Mao Zijun worked on two years ago. Two years ago, he did everything he could to bring Jiang Yuelou into fruition. Looking back now, there are details that could be further refined or supplemented, but the current KillHeal is still to his satisfaction, from his performance and methods of expression, to the overall product that is his character. “As to whether it has met my expectations… Because the broadcast of KillHeal had been held off for so long, I was worried about if the drama would go out of date when it finally came out. But there haven't been such problems so there’s nothing else I’m unsatisfied with.”

- 02 - I’ve become increasingly sentimental

While Mao Zijun may not be a purely immersive actor, he is not a wholly rationalistic one either. It’s in his analysis of his characters and response after completing a character that is rational. This rationality is present in his logic, or his healing process after getting out of character, but not acting itself.

Rationality is perhaps a result of Mao Zijun’s own experiences and personality. He had no formal training in acting. He had good grades in high school, perhaps due to parental pressure and his own belief that good grades made life somewhat easier. After graduating from high school, Mao Zijun successfully got into Zhejiang University of Finance and Economics and majored in Auditing.

“Why had I chosen auditing? At that time, I thought auditing had good prospects. It wasn’t a complicated job either--I took math and the sciences in high school, so auditing isn’t hard.” After getting into university, his parents weren’t as strict as they were in high school, so he had the opportunity to “set himself free” and explore new options. Just like that, he started taking jobs for advertisements, and then acting.

“Beauty's Rival in Palace was especially looking for people to fill in roles at the time. Liu Che was an important character despite not having a lot of scenes, and they thought my appearance fit the role.” Mao Zijun laughed lightly, “Also because of my looks that I started acting.”

The profession of acting provided him with many new experiences, because every character was new and unlike the mechanical motions he had to go through everyday. “This is also the reason why I will persist on this path.”

As someone who changed career paths from the sciences to acting, Mao Zijun has never second-guessed his decisions. He thought of himself as lucky, and his path a smooth one. Many of his friends around him have changed their career paths because of setbacks or other reasons, but he hasn’t. His parents have given him understanding and support. “My parents would express their worries, but they would not try and make a decision for me. Every big decision I've made is my own choice.”

Mao Zijun is a Capricorn: steadiness and rationality are a big part of it. But because he’s been an actor for so long, he’s in fact becoming more and more sentimental. When he first started out in the industry, he would care about others’ views and opinions about him. But with time, they gradually ceased to bother him. This is one of the very few things that have changed about him since his debut.

As an actor with no formal training, but has still received praise and acknowledgement for his acting skills, he does not attribute it to natural talent. Instead, he attributes it to his own capacity for self-excavation. “I think as an actor, you are mining yourself (your talents and skills). For example, if you meet other good actors, good characters, you will be driven to tap into your natural talents. For many actors, rather saying they don’t have talent, they simply haven’t been given the chance to discover their potential.”

In Mao Zijun’s opinion, every actor has talent, it is only a matter of chance and whether they can encounter a great character.

- 03 - Try and lose the “let it be” attitude

Mao Zijun has been in the industry for more than ten years. Ten years’ time is enough to change the state of the entertainment industry and the actors in it. As a post-85 liner interacting with post-90s and -95s actors, he’s picked up a hobby of collecting tarot cards, and has been playing video games like Super Mario and Contra that came with the gaming console gifted to him by his fans.

Newcomers in the industry would abide to the instructions of senior artists and the director. If they met difficulties or discomfort in the process of the shoot, they could only learn to deal with it themselves. But the market has changed, with new genres, subject matters, and the actors, too, are young. These young actors can willfully express themselves and vent, unlike the older generation of actors who learned to put up with things.

These changes cannot be predicted. Just like how it happened in a few years’ time, when an actor may no longer have a large audience base like before--an audience who sits in front of the TV just to catch the airtime of a TV series. Mao Zijun, too, is no longer the unworldly and inexperienced newcomer he was.

If he had to draw a demarcation, he says it’s the year 2016. “Before 2016, although I was an actor by profession and had thought I took my job seriously, looking back now, I’d just been in a status quo of “passing time.” Life had been smooth for Mao Zijun: high school, university, getting a job. He hasn’t met any real obstacles. The efforts and hard work he thought he had been putting into his work were tantamount to what he could easily accomplish in his best and most favourable circumstances.

He strongly agrees with the view that actors need to experience pain and setbacks. But he thinks that’s only a part of it. An actor can experience some things, but he is not able to experience everything. To him, some experiences can be gained through reading novels. “The stories, including the thoughts and behaviours of characters, are enriching and detailed. If you’re not able to personally experience some things, you can experience them via other methods.”

Mao Zijun is a very carefree person. He takes on drama offers when he feels like it, and rejects it when he doesn’t. He’s content with hiding himself away from the public eye to take time off for himself. But now, even he doubts whether the “let himself be” attitude is appropriate. “I noticed that there was a gap, like the period of time after The Legend of Haolan finished airing to the airing of KillHeal now. During these two years, you had no other dramas on-air. Your fans want to see your new projects and content, but you couldn’t give them anything, yet they would still give you a lot of support. It would make you question, shouldn’t I be filming more projects for them?”

After questioning himself, Mao Zijun started taking on more projects. Even during the pandemic, he filmed a movie (no news yet), acted as a cameo in The Journey of Flower as the character Sha Qianmo, and filmed for The Matriarch. “Since my fans want to see me so badly, I’ll just have to act in more projects, I thought.”

In The Matriarch, he plays the role of Wei Liang’gong, a very kind, “moonlight” (unattainable) character--a character with all the wonderful traits and virtues of a person--much like the male version of Empress Fuca Rongyin from Story of Yanxi Palace (2018). “This costume drama depicts a very realistic portrayal of life during the period. Acting in this drama was more of a process of experiencing and feeling, using an everyday-life way of performing was quite nice.”

Mao Zijun doesn’t really care whether he’s famous or popular. Even to this day, other actors from the casts he’s worked with would offer him new projects. Speaking from this point, he thinks he’s lucky enough as it is. To him, a TV drama actor, a bit of fame and a lot of fame doesn’t hold much of a difference. In the long term, “fame” is only a matter of degree. “Unless you win an award--a prestigious film award, whether it be movies or TV films--how much fame is but a matter of quality.” What he must do now, and spare no effort, is to give himself more opportunities.

In retrospect, Mao Zijun has gotten the roles he wanted, and there’s really no regrets. What he desires perhaps lies in the future. Fortunately, there’s just enough time.

Writer: 77

WeChat ID: LJLX2013

Original Post

[galacticnova3]

MK 8 14 16? 👉🏽👈🏽

8. Bad memories/experiences

Meta Knight has a lot of those! Since I somewhat mix anime and game canon, but mostly just take historical stuff from the anime (some of MK’s backstory, Nightmare Enterprises, how Galaxia came to be), the worst would probably be those he has from fighting in the GSA in the war against NME. Particularly, times he’d had to fight his own friends to the death, times he couldn’t save his own friends and had to leave them behind, times he watched his fellow soldiers die… you can probably see a pattern here. Those memories are a big part of why he’s so hesitant to form close relationships with people while simultaneously being extremely focused on protecting everyone. He’s, internally, terrified of the possibility of losing more people he cares about, to the point of being somewhat obsessed with making sure that can’t happen… Sometimes to the point that he ends up being the one hurting them.

In modern times, his worst memories are probably just those involving being possessed(Epic Yarn, early Star Allies), or being trapped in the Mirror World after losing his duel with DMK.

14. Ingrained habits/forces of habit

I’ve made a post about this a while back, but I’ll say it again: taking the high ground in any situation where that’s possible. Standing on tree branches, countertops, tables, perches built specifically for him, walls, chairs, on top of the Halberd, Lor’s emblem even when she tells him to get off… It’s mildly entertaining from an outside perspective, seeing him stand in odd places like that, but the truth is he’s constantly stuck in the mindset of higher = safer. In battle, it was key to try and be above your opponent; having the lower ground could, and often did, mean death.

Fun fact, that also ties into a good number of his fights; starting up in a high place and then jumping down and fighting on level ground is, paired with always offering a sword, his way of saying “I am making sure this is a fair fight; neither of us have any advantages or disadvantages, outside of our own strengths and weaknesses.”

Another seemingly innocent habit with less innocent origins is his tendency to practically hoard and hide anything sweet. In his days in the GSA, stuff like candy was an extremely rare treat; if someone had candy, it wasn’t all that rare for people to fight them for it, given that rations were often limited in the first place, and even more often less than appetizing once NME started interrupting supply chains and food was arriving less than fresh. If you had something sweet and wanted to save it, you had to hide it. Alternatively, you could trade it for stuff due to its high demand, though younger Meta didn’t focus on that kind of value.

It’s also why chocolate is such a comfort food to him; it was a reward in the war, whether by higher ups or from himself when he’d let himself get into his own stash for whatever reason, so it has more pleasant associations in his mind. It also serves as an extremely useful indicator for how he’s doing, because if he’s eating enough of it to be caught, chances are he’s trying to distract himself from a problem.

16. Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

Hmm… this is a tough one, since he doesn’t really have too many secrets (that aren’t trauma-related) that aren’t also somewhat well-known at this point? I guess you could consider his knowledge of torture methods a dark secret? Since he knows a lot more about those than most would assume. He initially learned about the subject during his GSA days while staying with someone who was in charge of doing that sort of thing, took an interest in it and did some research himself, then held on to what he found out because money threats of torture can be exchanged for goods and services truths and information. It’s also a very effective way to really communicate his hatred of and contempt towards someone.

You could consider his wild streak(s) one as well, but that isn’t really a secret that he keeps so much as it just isn’t something a lot of people looked into. It can be split into two things, though: there was a time when he’d threaten and/or attack anyone he considered suspicious or who he just didn’t vibe with, which had been shortly after arriving to Popstar, and then there was his, uh… Somewhat Excessive Violence on his way to summon Nova. Galaxia can be powered up with souls, in turn also granting him a bit more strength and buffing his own abilities, and he had to prepare for his fight with the strongest warrior somehow... Just, uh, Don’t Worry About It!

[the-original-b]

Archangel Chapter 10: Underhanded Practice

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 2 of 9 (Previous Chapter | The Beginning)

Word Count: c. 5,400

Summary: Krueger investigates a lead at a popular lounge, uncovering a plot to bring a new drug market to the Branch’s back yard. 

Warning(s): blood and gore, violence

Krueger blearily opened his eyes in bed and stared absentmindedly at the ceiling fan as he tried to quiet his mind again. After half an hour, he realized trying to return to sleep was an exercise in futility, so he slid out from under the sheets—careful not to disturb Khai curled up next to him—and quietly made his way to his bathroom to wash up before pulling a hoodie on over track pants to run a few laps around his block.

When he returned home at the crack of dawn, Khai was already dressed in a dark suit and lavender blouse, pouring her coffee into a to-go cup. They shared a quick kiss before she left, and Krueger returned upstairs to retrieve his P30L to start his day at the shooting range out east.

 ~~~~

Krueger sat at the diner counter later that morning, picking at the remains of his egg white Denver Omelette when the owner Henry Everett brought him a fresh coffee.

“Espresso,” he confirmed, placing it in front of him. “Black with no sugar.”

“Danke, Henry,” Krueger returned. He took the off-white mug by its handle and sipped slowly, savoring the flavor.

Everett leaned over the counter and looked the other man in the eyes. “How are you feeling, Milo?” he asked. “You look unwell.”

Krueger exhaled as he laid the coffee cup back down on the saucer. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” he began. “Which of course means Liz hasn’t been sleeping well… a lot on my mind after my last job.”

“Yes, Liz mentioned something like that the other day. Something about a girl in the Rockaways and a den in Patchogue.”

Krueger nodded. “As much as I want to call it an isolated incident, I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s part of something bigger.” He minded his volume as he spoke to Everett. Although the place was his, there were still other parties present that were uninvolved with their shared line of work.

“Would you sleep any better if I said I think you’re right?”

Krueger arched his brow behind the coffee cup.

“Chloe, one of my associates at Pharaohs, might be on to something,” he disclosed. “She thinks somebody may be trying to move some contraband into the Boroughs.”

“Contraband?” Given the nature of their business and the rules set in place by Isaac Hayden, contraband could only mean one thing in this context. “Does Chloe know for sure it’s connected to Patchogue?”

“Nothing concrete yet,” he said, taking Krueger’s plate as a server passed them by. “But she’s got a keen eye for suspicious activity, better than anyone else there.” He carried the plate to a plastic bin by the kitchen and returned to continue. “According to her, the same two individuals would meet at Pharaohs to talk. At the same time each day over the last three days. One of them had a habit of ordering a drink and staring at it until his contact arrived.”

Krueger broke eye contact and slowly sipped his coffee as he considered the information presented. “Could be nothing,” he surmised. “It could be unrelated… or it could be worth looking into,” he concluded, reestablishing eye contact. “I’ll come by Pharaohs tonight. I’m supposed to go out with Liz after she’s done at the Branch today, but I can have her meet me there.”

“I would appreciate that,” Everett said, “thank you. I’ll let Chloe know you’re coming.”

~~~~

A lo-fi hip hop instrumental permeated through the main atrium of the Pharaohs Lounge that evening, providing a relaxed atmosphere in which the patrons enjoyed their hookah and cocktails. They conversed, closed business deals, and flirted in the dim light under the watchful eyes of the Ramesses II, Tutankhamun, Cleopatra, and Hatshepsut immortalized in busts at the four corners of the room.

The bartender, a woman wearing a white button-up shirt that seemed to glow under the spotlight keenly observed the space from behind the bar, and would briefly scan the room between preparing martinis for the servers to bring to the guests.

Krueger walked into the lounge in a black turtle neck sweater, dark washed jeans, and classy casual shoes under his pea coat. He headed straight for the bar and took a seat, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on the counter.

The bartender returned the bottle opener to the rear right pocket of her jeans and crossed her arms on the countertop, leaning forward. “Anybody ever tell you how cool your eyes are?” She got his attention with a rich, dulcet voice.

Krueger turned to meet her gaze. “Danke—er… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she returned, smirking playfully. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she added, moving to a spot directly across from him, “but I’ve definitely seen you around before.” She reached across the bar to offer him her hand. “Chloe Zaydan,” she introduced herself. She had warm ivory skin, long dark hair parted down the middle, bright brown eyes, and full lips.

Krueger accepted and shook her hand. “Milo Krueger,” he said. “Happy to make your acquaintance. Mr. Everett speaks highly of you.”

“I would hope so, he and I opened this place together.” She took her hand back after their contact lingered for a little. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For not staring.” Her shirt’s first three buttons were undone, and a good deal of her skin was visible. “Most of the guys here forget where my eyes are once they start drinking.”

“I haven’t started drinking yet.”

“Let’s fix that, shall we?” She straightened up, whipping her hair out of her face with a quick shake of her head. “What’s your poison, Milo Krueger?”

“Water for now,” he said, turning in his chair to scan the tables behind him. “I’m working.”

“Uh huh…” Chloe retrieved a water bottle from the refrigerator under the bar and a pint glass from the freezer. “What do you do, exactly?” She cracked the bottle open and poured its contents into the glass before sliding it over to him then resting her hands on the countertop and leaning forward a little.

“I solve problems, currently, for Mr. Everett’s boss. Before that, I shot people for money; Kommando Spezialkräfte, the Bundeswehr, a few private clients, and my own team once.”

“Not going to lie to you,” she admitted, gesturing her head. “All that registered was Commando.”

Krueger turned back to face her and blinked, then took from his water glass. “Special Forces,” he said. “Now I’m in the private sector.”

“You see? Wasn’t that easier?” She flashed him a coquettish smile.

Krueger chuckled to himself as he drank more water. “I suppose… and you, Chloe Zaydan? What do you do?”

Chloe looked up to take a drink order from one of the servers working the floor behind Krueger. She nodded at the server and turned to gather a few of the ingredients from the wall behind her. “Well,” she began, “officially I’m the head bartender here at Pharaohs. I take care of the staff and make sure the staff take care of the patrons.” She took a rocks glass and a cocktail shaker from the drying rack and placed a single large ice cube into the glass, then cracked a second ice cube into the shaker. Then she opened the half-finished bottles of Redemption rye and Domaine de Canton she retrieved from the wall, poured a full measure of the rye into one side of her jigger, and turned it over to add the whiskey into the shaker as she poured the Domaine de Canton into its other side. She turned it over again to pour the liqueur into the shaker as well.

“It’s thankless work,” she continued as she retrieved pomegranate juice and sour mix from the refrigerator below the bar, “but if I don’t do it, nobody else will.” She poured a half measure of the juice into the shaker along with one and a half measures of sour mix, then covered the container up and shook it vigorously. Once satisfied she tapped the shaker on the bar top to open it and strained the contents over the ice cube in the rocks glass. Finally, she rubbed a thin strip of lemon peel over the rim of the glass and placed it into the finished cocktail before sliding it across the bar to the server with a wink. “Turns out I’m pretty good at it too, so, bonus.”

Krueger nodded. “And unofficially?” he queried.

“I’m Number Two here,” she said plainly. She turned briefly to place jigger and cocktail shaker into the sink to run them under hot water. “Kind of like a general manager but with more authority.” She gave the instruments a quick but thorough clean with a sudsy sponge before rinsing them and returning them to the drying rack. “Some days I have to have our guests escorted from the building, and on the worst of those days I have to be in the room with Henry when Mr. Hayden has a word with those guests.” She turned back around to reestablish eye contact as she dried her hands. “So I guess I solve problems too.”

“Then I take it you know why I’m here this evening.” He lowered his volume.

“Yes, sir,” Chloe said, matching his tone and leaning in a little. “I suspected somebody here is looking to either buy or sell drugs. I know how big a no-no that is with Henry’s boss, so I brought it to his attention. Then I’m guessing Henry called you up to help with that..?”

“That isn’t exactly how it went, but yes… The suspected party,” Krueger said, “is he the younger man seated at the table on my five o-clock?”

Chloe peered over his right shoulder to identify the person in question. “Yep, that’s him,” she confirmed. “Nervous Nelly’s been staring at his ginger ale for the better part of the last hour.”

“And his contact?”

“Should be here any second now…” Chloe broke eye contact to scan the room one more time. She straightened up and reached for a mop towel behind her when she spotted him. “Yep,” she confirmed, wiping the bar in front of her. “There he is.” She wiped more of the surface down as she discreetly scanned Nervous Nelly’s contact and relayed her observations to Krueger so he wouldn’t have to blow his cover. “Backpack slung over one shoulder, other hand hooked into his pocket… he just sat down across from Nervous Nelly, and put the backpack on the floor next to him.”

“How good are you at lip reading?”

“Not very…” Chloe returned the mop towel to its hook behind her and turned back around to line a dozen shot glasses up in front of her. “Newcomer’s relaxed enough, laid back in his chair” she continued as she took a bottle of Blue Nectar silver tequila and uncorked it. “His friend on the other hand…” she poured an equal measure into each of the glasses and set the bottle aside as she arranged them on a platter for one of her servers.

“Jiggling knee?” Krueger theorized as he took from his water glass.

“That, rubbing the back of his neck, wringing his hands; basically the picture next to what you’d find in the dictionary if you looked up ‘nervous behavior.’ Plus he keeps looking back this way.” She retrieved the tequila bottle once more and poured one last shot into a glass to send with the server to give to the newcomer, then re-corked the bottle and returned it to the shelf behind her.  

“He doesn’t suspect you,” Krueger assured her. “It’s much more likely he can’t take his eyes off you, a beautiful woman serving drinks behind the bar at a lounge in Bayside.”

Chloe smiled and looked away from him, chuckling to herself. “You know, that’s dangerous, flirting with the pretty girl at the bar,” she returned, smirking wryly at him.

“I’m just stating facts, Chloe” he added in jest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “How you interpret those facts is up to you. Besides,” he continued, “danger is nothing new in my line of work.”

She laughed to herself and shook her head, grinning. “Well, you’re cute,” she admitted, “so I’ll let it slide… just this once.” She broke eye contact with Krueger to watch the man with the backpack and his contact again. “Backpack guy just downed his shot… looks like he enjoyed it.”

“And his friend?”

“Still hasn’t touched his soda… Hold on,” she said. “He just looked over both his shoulders. Looks like he’s reaching into his pocket for something.” Even in the dim light she could see what it was. “An envelope,” she said to him. “He’s handing it over under the table… other guy’s peeling it open, looking inside… he seems satisfied with it.

“Money?”

“Probably,” she continued. “No, definitely. He just slid the backpack over with his foot.”

“Fair trade,” Krueger commented.

“Looks like he’s verifying the purchase…” Chloe watched in silence as the nervous buyer—as discreetly as he could—opened the backpack’s zipper a few inches and reach one hand inside. He seemed to struggle with whatever was inside, then pulled his hand back out and looked over his left shoulder as he brought his fingertips to his mouth. “Taste test,” she finally commented. “Gotta be.”

Krueger nodded. “Then you were right to suspect them. Good instincts.”

“Thanks.” She took her eyes away from them to look at Krueger again. “What happens now?”

“We deliver the buyer to Mr. Everett.”

“Not the seller?”

“No, the seller is just a vector, probably one of a dozen,” he surmised. “A means to an end; at those quantities it’s the buyer looking to create the market here. He’s the one to make an example of.” Krueger stood up from the bar stool and straightened out his coat. “Thank you for the water.” He turned to head to the back of the atrium, toward the stairs to Everett’s office.

Chloe watched him leave, and when he was no longer in her sight she walked over to the wall-mounted phone at the far side of the bar area, picked it up out of its cradle and dialed a three digit extension. “Table six,” she said into the receiver. “Two and a backpack.” Then she hung the phone up and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, watching the two suspects at their table while three large security guards in black t-shirts and pants wove through the atrium tables and between servers to apprehend them.

The seller, facing the direction they came from, spotted them immediately—he quickly but calmly stood up to make his getaway. The buyer wasn’t so lucky; he was scooped up and lifted clear above the floor in a matter of seconds by one of the guards while the second secured the backpack. The third broke off in pursuit of the seller while the other two took the buyer out of the lounge via the rear exit, away from the other guests who looked on in confusion, but quickly returned to their business after it was done.

Chloe uncrossed her arms and took her place at the bar again, accepting an empty crystal tumbler from one of the servers.

“What was that about?” the server asked her?

“They broke the rules,” she plainly told him. “This one was Blanton’s, right?” she asked, gesturing the empty glass in her hand.

“Uh, yeah. Blanton’s. On the Rocks.”

 ~~

Each of the two security guards cupped one the buyer’s arms as they hauled him into Everett’s office, his feet dragging on the floor behind him. They placed him into an old chair facing the desk as the third security guard laid the confiscated backpack on Everett’s desktop.

The buyer looked up from his lap at the man seated across from him, wincing between pained breaths as he tried his best to nurse his beaten sides and stomach from his seat.

Everett slowly stood up from his chair and took a few measured steps around his desk to approach the buyer. He towered over the other man, glaring at him from behind the frames of his glasses. “Do you understand why you’re here?” he asked the buyer.

The buyer nodded guiltily. “Yeah,” he spat out.

“Explain to me why I had my staff make an example of you in front of my other guests,” Everett ordered. He removed his glasses one-handed and placed them in the front pocket of his jacket.

“I—I bought drugs,” he stammered.

“Louder.”

“I bought drugs..! I was going to sell them... corner the market,” he admitted, shrinking into himself.

Everett took a slow step toward him, invading his personal space now. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “You have one advocate in this room.” He gestured Krueger seated quietly to the right. “This conversation was his idea. We have a strict set of rules in place here, and a clearly established set of consequences for those who break them. When I heard the extent to which you and your associate were planning violate those rules…” Everett blinked slowly. “Suffice it to say if it weren’t for the respect and admiration I have for that man and his opinion, I would have handled this differently.”

The buyer sheepishly looked to his left at Krueger.

“Don’t look at him,” Everett growled. “You look at me..!”

He snapped to attention, looking up at Everett again towering over him.

“You will leave this place,” Everett declared. “You will leave behind what you have purchased. And he won’t be able to deliver you from what will happen if I or my associates catch you here again.” Everett’s glare bored into the other, smaller man for all of five seconds in total silence before he finally turned back around toward his seat behind the desk. “This exchange is over.”

The buyer swallowed hard before he looked to his left at Krueger one last time. Then he slowly stood back up and staggered out of the room, abandoning his prize to walk away with his life.

Krueger shot Everett a glance before standing up to follow the buyer out of the office and intercept him on the stairs down to the main floor.

He placed his hand on the buyer’s shoulder to turn him around, then shoved him against the wall once he had his attention. With his other hand he drew and opened a folding knife then pressed its point against the buyer’s waist, just above the belt. “I’m going to ask you two simple questions,” he said. “And I want simple answers…”

The buyer, terrified, nodded in silent compliance.

“Are those Dragon Tears in the other room—?”

“Yeah.” His answer was immediate.

“Who’s your seller?”

“I don’t know him.”

Krueger’s eyes narrowed. He brought the blade up from waist-level and rested its flat side against the buyer’s cheek. “Not a simple answer.”

“I don’t know him, I swear..! I was set up with him.”

Krueger blinked, pulling the knife away. “Who set you up? Who is it that’s looking to corner the market on the Dragon Tears here in New York?”

“Peter Cross,” he blurted out. Despair washed over him immediately after he gave Krueger the name.

Krueger blinked, then after three seconds of silence he released the buyer. He’d seen that expression before—the hopelessness that grows and takes over when a man realizes he just signed his own death warrant. He folded the knife one-handed and slid it back into his pocket. “Go,” he finally said. He stood to the side and let the buyer pass. He wasn’t certain from the distance between them, but he could swear the buyer was crying by the time he made it off the stairs.

He returned to Everett’s office to share what he was told. “He wasn’t acting alone,” he began. “He and the seller were proxies for someone named Peter Cross.”

Everett laced his fingers together atop the desk as he sat back down. “Did he say whether Cross was behind the den in Patchogue as well?”

“No, but I don’t believe in coincidence.” Krueger rested his hands in his coat pockets. “Whoever Peter Cross is, all we can be sure of is that he wants that heroin here for a reason. But until we have more information I feel the best thing to do is to stay vigilant… I’ll run his name by Brandon Desmoulins, see what he can dig up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Everett agreed. He gestured the backpack full of Dragon Tears. “I’ll get this to Isaac in the morning and let him know you’re investigating Cross. He’ll want confer with us once we have some useful information.”

“Understood.”

“Thank you again for your help Milo,” Everett said, his expression softening again. “Have some fun on your way out,” he said. “On the house.”

 ~~

Krueger washed his hands in the bathroom. After shutting the faucet off he ran his still-wet fingers through his hair and over his face, then dried his hands and face with paper towels from the dispenser. He inspected his reflection one last time before leaving the restroom to return to his place at the bar.

He reached into his inside coat pocket for his cell phone, but paused as he recognized Khai in his seat chatting with Chloe. He got their attention with a little wave. “I was about to call you,” he said to her. “I just finished and was going to ask you to meet me here.”

“Who says I’m here for you?” Khai jested. “I came to see my best friend.”

Krueger paused for a moment, then chuckled to himself. “Of course you two know each other,” he said.

“Yep,” Chloe added. “Sorry about not being up front with that, but I wanted to test you. Liz said so much about you I had to be sure.” She flashed him a smile. “You passed, by the way.”

“Well,” Krueger said as he reclaimed his seat at the bar next to Khai, “if it makes no difference to you I think I’ll have that drink now, Chloe.”

“You bet,” she said, wiping the rim of a square rocks glass dry and placing it in front of him. She looked over at Khai. “What does he like?” she asked her, nodding her head in Krueger’s direction.

“The Old Fashioned at Tillman’s,” she said.

Chloe nodded in approval. “Ah,” she noted. “A man of taste..! Extra credit.” She went into the freezer to retrieve a single large ice cube with an orange peel frozen inside of it and placed it into Krueger’s empty glass. She turned over her shoulder to survey her options for whiskey, lingering on a Woodford Reserve but ultimately selecting a Four Roses Single Barrel over it. She poured enough bourbon into the glass to cover the ice, then reached to her left for a bottle of turbinado syrup to add a pre-determined amount of the sweetener to the whiskey. Then she retrieved a bottle of angostura bitters from underneath the bar and added a few dashes to the mixture, then added a few drops of orange bitters to it as well. Finally she stirred the cocktail in the glass with a bar spoon and, when mixed to her satisfaction she skewered a single cocktail cherry with a stainless steel pick and placed it into the glass beside the ice. “It’s not a perfect recreation,” Chloe noted as she slid the glass toward Krueger, “but it’s close.”

“Liz trusts your judgement,” he said to her, smirking. “That means you get a pass from me.”

“Danke,” she said, returning his expression. She turned her attention to her friend. “And you?”

“Surprise me,” Khai said.

Chloe broke eye contact while she considered Khai’s tastes and preferences. She knew what to make her—she ducked below the bar to retrieve a bottle of ginger beer from the refrigerator and placed it on the countertop when she surfaced again. Krueger and Khai looked on in intrigue as she picked a bottle of premium vodka and a honey liqueur off the shelf behind her and placed them on the counter next to the ginger beer. She turned around one last time to get another rocks glass and cocktail shaker from the drying rack and then got to work. Into her shaker she cracked some ice, then poured an equal measure of vodka and the honey liqueur. She cut a lime in half and squeezed its juice to the shaker, then closed and shook it to combine the ingredients. When she was satisfied she tapped the shaker on the counter’s edge to open it, then set it aside as she reached into the rear pocket of her jeans for her bottle opener to uncap the ginger beer. Finally, she topped the open cocktail shaker with a strainer and poured its contents into the rocks glass one-handed while she poured in the ginger beer with her other hand to nearly fill the glass.

“That your take on a Moscow Mule?” Khai asked.

“Been workshopping this one,” Chloe returned, rubbing a lime wedge on the rim of the glass and garnishing the finished product with it. “And no,” she jested. “Henry never got us copper mugs.”

“Eh, details.” Khai brought the experimental cocktail to her lips and sampled it, then paused, analyzing the flavors at play on her tongue. Her eyes lit up as she raised her brow. “Whoa, that’s good. Wait, hold on..!” She took more from the glass and when she finally pulled it away from her mouth she examined it in her hand. “Okay, that’s actually delicious..! It deserves a spot on the menu for sure..!”

“I’ll put that into the suggestion box,” Chloe said. “You know, as soon as we get one of those,” she joked. She raised the unfinished ginger beer bottle above the countertop and brought it to Krueger’s and Khai’s cocktails. “To friends..!” she said.

 ~~~~

Peter Cross pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, seated opposite the other man at a small square table. The other seated person, visibly terrified, tried desperately to control his breathing under a third man in the room with them, clad in dark tactical gear and concealing his face with a Kevlar mask. The masked man was dead silent, his hands resting on the shoulders of the man seated opposite Cross.

“You’re not making a ton of sense, Davey,” Cross said. “So what I need you to do is take a breath—right now, breathe in through your nose,” he gestured breathing deep from his seat to the man seated opposite him in the dark room. “And slowly let it out through your mouth.” He guided the other man through the exercise. “Are we feeling better now?”

Davey, frantic and barely intelligible just a minute ago, took a moment to collect himself. “Yeah,” he lied, briefly looking Cross in the eye again averting his gaze again.

“Good,” Cross’s guided him with honeyed tones. “Now… Start again, from the beginning.”

“I talked to your contact,” he began. “We met up at Pharaohs, every day for the past week, just like you said.”

“He mentioned that. He had to get a feel for you.”

“We talk,” Davey continued. “Until finally, I made the buy today. Just like you said.”

Cross nodded behind his interlaced fingers.

“But then security comes out of nowhere, and before I know it I’m getting the hell kicked out of me in the alley behind Pharaohs…” He tensed up as the masked man’s grip tightened ever so slightly. “Then they bring me back in, sit me down in front of the boss. He tells me I would have been dead if not for his friend.”

“Describe his friend.”

Davey shrugged under the masked man’s hands. “Average height. White guy, brown hair, gray beard—late forties, probably. Had blue eyes… or were they green? Maybe one of each, I don’t remember.”

“Heterochromia,” Cross surmised.

“Hete-what?”

“Differently-colored… go on.”

“They kept the product and cut me loose,” Davey continued. Then his head hung as he recalled what happened next. “Then the boss’s friend pulls me aside, asked me who my supplier was.”

“What did he sound like?”

“Not super deep, average I guess… I thought I heard an accent when he spoke.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Huh?” The masked man adjusted his grip on Davey’s shoulders again, placing them centimeters closer to his neck.

“You said he asked you who your supplier was. What did you say?”

“I told him I didn’t know.”

“Then why’d you mention you gave him my name, earlier?”

“I thought he was gonna kill me if I didn’t give him something..! I didn’t think about what I was saying, I…” he began to tear up under the masked man’s hands. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cross,” Davey entreated. “I’m so, so sorry..!”

“I know you are,” Cross offered, leaning forward in his seat a little. “I do, and I accept your apology… but,” he continued, standing slowly, “it’s not my acceptance you want today, it’s the Viper’s.” He looked up at the masked man standing behind Davey. “Viper, do you accept his apology?”

The Viper said nothing; he loosened his grip on Davey’s shoulders, and even let go completely with his right hand.

Cross shrugged, looking back down at Davey. “Looks like he accepts your apology too,” he said. He turned around and headed toward the door with his hands in his coat pockets.

Davey took a deep breath to calm himself, relieved, just before the Viper retrieved a knife from his belt and ran its blade across his neck, severing his right carotid artery.

The Viper moved his left hand from Davey’s shoulder to under his chin to pull his head back while his right hand held Davey’s arm in place to prevent him from covering his wound and stopping the gushing. He ignored Davey’s muffled gurgles as blood spurted from the gaping neck wound all over the floor and table in front of him.

“However,” Cross said as he paused in his tracks and slowly turned over his shoulder to face Davey again, “I and the Viper can not afford failure, and we do not tolerate it.”

Davey tried to stand as he struggled, eventually freeing his left hand to try and peel the Viper’s away, but his efforts were thwarted by the larger man’s strength—the Viper pulled his head back further and pressed down with his other hand to keep Davey in place.

“We’re at the cusp of something huge,” Cross continued. “Bigger than anything we’ve ever accomplished, and those who would want to stop us are some powerful people. So until we set ourselves up with people powerful enough to destroy them, we have to stay off of their radar.”

Davey’s movements became more sluggish, and his left hand eventually fell from the Viper’s as life escaped him.

“Discretion, my friend,” he concluded. “That’s how we win here.”

Davey finally went limp in the Viper’s arms, and he let the man fall forward onto the table and slide onto the floor to his left. His blood leaked out from the wound as he hit the floor; the Viper, looking down at his victim, didn’t move when the growing puddle reached his boots. The only sounds in the room with them for six whole seconds was the dripping of Davey’s blood off the table onto the floor, and the Viper’s muffled breathing.

Cross exhaled, quickly scanning himself for Davey’s blood before looking back up to address his associate again. “Did you have to make such a mess?” he asked.

The Viper slowly turned his head upward away from Davey’s corpse to look at Cross again, peering through the eye holes of his face shield to meet his gaze.

“Of course you did,” he added sotto voce. “Clean this up,” he continued audibly. “After you’re done here find my seller and take care of him. Then cancel whatever other plans you have for the week.” He turned back around and headed for the door. “If I’m right about what about to happen, we’re gonna need you around to deal with Archangel.”

(Masterlist | Peter Cross | the Viper | Chapter 11)

[frogsandcookies]

Butterflies

Notes: So I got into Demonslayer recently. And naturally, I had to make a Sanders Sides au for it and write things. In this au, it’s not focusing on the main story but more the Kocho sisters. Patton is Kanao, Virgil is Shinobu, and Roman is Kanae. I changed the story a bit

Warnings: Child abuse, human trafficking, violence, mentioned character death

Part 1 / Part 2

___

(art by me)

Patton’s back was pressed against the musty wall of the decrepit house, the only thing between his skin and the wood being his tattered and worn robes. He stood on shaky legs, barely managing to stay upright due to malnourishment and lack of sleep. He flinched and held back a cry as a fist came flying towards his face, landing on  his left cheek and sending him hurling towards the ground.

Patton landed with a thud, his hands taking the brunt of the force. His arms buckled and he fell onto the wooden floor, his round glasses slipping down his nose at the impact but thankfully not falling off.

He struggled to get up and tried to crawl away, only to have his arm caught by his attacker. He whimpered, and the man’s grip tightened. A fresh bruise was already forming on his face from the blow and his arm was guaranteed to get some new ones as well, courtesy of his caretaker’s bonecracking grip.

After five years of this, Patton was used to the treatment and didn’t attempt to escape as he was dragged across the dusty wooden floor, his tattered robes adding a new layer of dust to its collection. The robes were several years old and were nearly in tatters but he doubted they’d be replaced anytime soon.

What did I do to deserve this? Patton questioned internally, wincing as several sharp splitters embedded themselves into his skin as he was dragged unceremoniously across the floor boards.

Patton had been two years old at the time of his parents’ deaths and because he lacked other family, or at least other family that was willing to take him in, he had ended up in an orphanage. A year later, he and several other children had been adopted by Mr. Peters and his associates.

They had been promised a happy and safe life however that had been a facade for something more sinister. The men who had adopted them ran a human trafficking ring which prayed on orphans and children who if they disappeared, no one would notice. The first day of their adoption, all of the children had been beaten several times, the explanation provided being that they were starting their conditioning.

Patton had adapted quickly. He learned how to be quiet, how to bandage injuries, and most of all, how to be obedient. One by one, children were sold off, buyers travelling from all around the country to illegally purchase young children.

Patton had been sold to a man bearing the name Jet. He wasn’t rich but he had connections and was friends with the other caretakers, resulting in a decreased price. The day he had left the caretaker’s home was one of the worst days of his life.

Patton snapped out of his daze as he noticed the man had stopped dragging him, although his grip on Patton’s wirst didn’t loosen.

The shoddy door was slid open and light flooded into the dark room. Patton raised his head weakly, the sunlight reflecting off his cracked glasses lenses as he squinted. One of the other kids owned by Jet was passed out against the house wall, blood dripping from a but on his forehead.

Before Patton could realize what was going to happen next, he was thrown out of the doorway and into the front yard. He landed on a patch of rocky ground, a cloud of dust rising up around him as he skidded slightly before stilling.

His bruised back ached as it slammed against the hard ground and dust coated him, landing in his exposed cuts and creating a burning sensation to spread across his skin. His glasses had fallen off during the short flight, landing several feet away. The junky lenses were noticeably more cracked than before, their cheap quality not built to be able to withstand such actions. Dark brown curls fell in front of his eyes and rustled as he shifted slightly to a more comfortable position.

The door slammed shut and Patton released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

The child soon noticed several drops of liquid dripping down his face and realized it was blood. He wasn’t surprised, he had knocked his head pretty hard against the ground. Patton weakly pulled his knees closer to his chest as he continued to lay in the dirt.

I’m hungry, he thought. I haven’t eaten in...a week? I think. Yeah. Mr Jet brought us rice. Not much but it tasted like heaven. I guess when you’re starving anything tastes good.

I’m sad, Patton realized. As positive I try to stay, it never gets better. No one cares. No one ever tries to help. Everyone leaves. The only person who cared was Logan and he left me too. I wonder if he remembers me...

I feel hopeless, Patton continued, breathing shakily and bringing his knees closer to his chest, now in a fetal position. At this point death would be better. Everything hurts. At least when I’m dead no one can hurt me. And it’s not like anyone loves me. I’m a waste of space and if I was gone, the other kids could at least stop worrying about me. They’d get more food too.  

Patton sighed before pushing himself up, ignoring the aching in his arms. He grabbed his glasses and pushed them onto his face, smearing the blood streaks slightly..

“Tomorrow will be better.” He whispered.

Lie. His brain replied.

___

-One month later-

Patton sat in the yard, his knees pressed to his chest as he leaned against the wooden fence. He stared off into space, zoning out until he noticed a figure blocking the sun.

He looked up, a tall unknown man leering over him, a rope held in his hands.

“You’re being sold.” A familiar voice said from behind the stranger. Jet stepped in front of Patton and said,”I can’t afford to keep feeding you and besides, I’ve grown tired of you. So Mr. Pryce is going to sell you for me.”

“Doesn’t it talk?” The stranger said, wrinkling his nose at Patton’s silence.

“Tt. No. If he does, there’s a consequence. Do you really think I want to hear some child’s incessant blabbering?” Jet said, rolling his eyes.

“Smart. People like the quiet ones. They don’t complain as much. Though I doubt this one even knows how to talk.” Mr. Pryce said.

Patton used to talk but after several sessions of punishment, he had wisely learned to be quiet. Anything that could prevent more pain was a smart path for him.

“Stand up.” Jet snapped at Patton. Patton silently stood up, raising his arms as he realized what the rope was for.

“Well trained too. We’re going to get a bundle.” The taller man said, beginning to wrap the rope around Patton’s midsection before tying it securely. He gripped the other end tightly in his hand, looping it around his palm several times.

“In case it tries to escape.” Mr. Pryce said, the statement more directed at Patton who simply blinked. He wasn’t stupid enough to escape and even if he did, there was nowhere that he could go.

“He won’t. He knows not to.” Jet said, giving Patton a creepy, momo-esque smile. Patton remained still and Jet stepped back.

“Alright. Time to go,” Mr. Pryce said, “I’ll be back with the cash as soon as I can.”

“Good.” Jet said, crossing his arms.

The man holding the rope started to walk, pulling Patton along with him. Patton walked behind him, separated by several feet so as to not get in the man’s way.

Jet didn’t bother to say goodbye and turned back to the house, stepping inside and closing the door.

I guess this is goodbye. Patton thought. It seems dumb to hope that things get better but I do hope they don’t get worse. Bye house. I’ll remember you. You were a good home...Bye Mr. Jet. I don’t think I’ll miss you but thank you. I guess… Bye everyone. I hope all of you guys escape one day.

Patton remained silent as they walked down the road, the man keeping a steady pace. He seemed to be in a hurry, no doubt eager to get over with the sale and get his cut of the money.

They soon reached town, the man leading him through the streets. No one gave them a second glance, used to seeing this sort of thing. Selling off children was fairly common and while people might not have agreed with it, they had their own business to attend to.

They were crossing a bridge when someone called out to them.

“Excuse me, do you have a minute?” A male voice said. Mr. Pryce turned around and Patton followed, glancing at the owner of the voice.

Standing behind them were two males, both in black uniforms and wearing kimonos over said uniforms. The taller one had on a kimono resembling a butterfly’s wing and a matching hair piece. The shorter male had on a white kimono along with a butterfly hairpiece that matched the others.

They resembled each other enough to be easily identified as brothers.

The taller one kneeled down in front of Patton, looking him up and down. Patton looked at him with dull eyes, not questioning the action. The other brother stood protectively behind the older, wearing a vaguely agitated expression.

“Hello there, nice to meet you.” The taller butterfly boy said, smiling softly at Patton. “My name is Roman Kocho. What’s your name?” He questioned amicably.

“He’s got no name, alright? No one ever gave him one.” Mr. Pryce said, wearing an annoyed expression as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

I do have a name. Patton thought though he stayed silent.

“What about his parents?” Roman asked, frowning.

“He ain’t got none. The little twerp’s alone.” The man sneered.

That caused irritated expressions to form on both brothers’ faces.

“Now if you want to talk to this kid, pay up!” The man said, glaring at them. The shorter of the pair shifted and looked at his brother before reaching his hand into a pocket.

“Alright then. We’ll purchase him. Would this be enough?” The younger said before tossing out a handful of bills and coins into the air. The coins made a clattering noise against the wood of the bridge.

Both Patton and Roman turned to look at the shorter who was wearing an expression of determination and anger.

The man looked at the money and during this moment of distraction, Roman snatched the other end of the rope before grabbing one of Patton’s hands. The other brother grabbed Patton’s other hand.

“Very dramatic Virgil, I approve. But are you sure about this?” Roman said, grinning as they began to run away from the scene. Patton looked up at Virgil as they continued to run, wonder sparking in his eyes.

“It’s fine.” Virgil said, smiling a bit as well.

Roman looked back to the man and yelled,”Please excuse us! Or don’t, you bastard!”

“Roman! Language!” Virgil scolded, picking up the pace as they ran through the town. Patton turned back to Roman, the wonder shining on his face.

-Later-

Clean and dressed in fresh clothes, Patton sat on his knees in the middle of a room, the doors open to face the outside. His clothes were at least four times too big but they were cleaner than anything he had ever owned and he was grateful. His hair had dried quickly and was now several shades lighter than before, the dust and grime now gone. He had a butterfly clip in his hair as well, the color a light blue much like the sky.

Outside the two brothers were talking. The younger one, Virgil, was currently talking.

“Roman. Roman! Roman, this kid is hopeless!” Virgil exclaimed, glancing at Patton who stared at him blankly, not moving at all.

“Oy, don’t be like that!” Roman scolded, sending Patton a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, it just takes time. Besides, this was your idea, remember?” Roman continued, nudging Virgil.

“Okay, one, don’t tell me not to worry because you know that’s not possible. Two, we both know that you would’ve done the same thing if I hadn’t.” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

“And besides, we can’t do anything with a kid who can’t even think for himself! It’s dangerous, not to mention--” Virgil paused as he watched Roman walk over to Patton, kneeling besides the younger boy.

He pulled a coin out of his pocket and showed it to Patton.

“I know that choosing can be difficult, so how about when you’re on your own, you can decide by flipping this coin. Alright kiddo?” Roman said, smiling. He took Patton’s hand and pressed the coin into his palm, the heads side up.

After doing this, he turned to look back at Virgil.

“As long it’s given a chance, a person’s soul will open up so don’t worry.” Roman said, smiling. Virgil sighed and cracked a smile.

Roman turned back to Patton and continued. “If you fall in love with someone one day, you’ll change too kiddo.”

Patton looked down at his palm which held the coin.  He wrapped his fingers around it softly before unclenching them. He hesitantly took the coin in his fingers and flipped it, the coin landing on heads. Patton blinked and seemed to think for a moment before turning to face Roman.

“My name’s Patton.” Patton whispered. Virgil looked surprised and he looked at Roman who was grinning widely.

“That’s a lovely name, Patton. I remember reading somewhere that it means ‘fighter’s town.’ That’s quite accurate for you Patton because you’re a fighter if I’ve ever seen one. Welcome to the family.” Roman said, gently pulling Patton into a hug.

___

I will be continuing this so comment if you want to be added to the taglist 

[phantastus]

Is there any symbolism behind the bird scientific names tags representing Silent Hill characters? Like, did you pick them for any particular reasons? 👀

Oh man, well, I guess I never went into detail about them anywhere. They definitely were picked for a reason but the reason is related to a currently-unwritten fanfic and literally who knows when that’s going to happen (Gravity needs to get finished first and who knows when that’s going to happen :’]), so I might as well try and do it now.

When I was in college I started coming up with concepts and symbolism for a fic project and because I’m obsessed with birds all of it involved birds and the title of the fic was appropriately “Four and Twenty Blackbirds”, with the ‘four’ specifically referring to Harry, James, Heather, and Henry (because they were the main characters). Each of them had a different ‘blackbird’ species representing them. 

So when I decided to make separate aesthetic/inspo tags for individual characters (I already have a #silent feels tag for general SH inspiration, but I am crazy and it was NOT CONVOLUTED ENOUGH FOR ME), I decided to use the scientific bird names since it was conveniently already cemented in my brain. THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY, VERY LONG SO I’M PUTTING IT UNDER A READMORE. Click for pretentious Silent Hill fan analysis.

HARRY MASON | CORVUS BRACHYRYNCHOS (American Crow)

Harry Mason is the “”generic”” all-American protagonist who rises to a heroic status pretty much out of sheer determination and a commitment to his loved one. He’s not an unusual person, in fact he’s deceptively normal-- so the American crow felt right for him since they’re so common. You see them so often you don’t even think about them, but they’re smart, resourceful, and resilient survivors (something that especially comes into play with Harry post-SH1 when he’s eluding the Order). Harry is underestimated because of his normalcy but he’s capable of incredible things.

Also crows (and other corvids) have deep, almost humanlike family bonds between parents and offspring. They’ll maintain relationships even after the babies grow up and become fully self-sufficient, with the adult children regularly visiting their parents and socializing or helping to take care of younger siblings.

In the context of the fic Harry’s symbolic/prophetic connection to such a common “pest” species is sort of a derogatory assignment on the part of the Order/the town, as he’s seen as a heretic troublemaker (CULTS HATE HIM!! LOCAL MAN STEALS MESSIAH AND THWARTS FATE WITH ONE COOL TRICK!)

JAMES SUNDERLAND | CORVUS CORAX (Common Raven)

Ravens are like the most symbolic corvid, every gothic poet/novelist/artist and their grandma used them to represent death, grief and malaise, and James’s story is nothing if not filled with all three of those things. I mean, come on:    “By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”            Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.” -Edgar Allen Poe, u know where it’s from.

Also in college, I got very interested in the myth “Raven Steals the Sun”, which has a number of different variations (it’s a story shared across multiple First Nations peoples of the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, there’s no one clear origin-- you can read about a couple of versions here!) but most involve the titular Raven delivering the Sun to the world after stealing or freeing it from a dark place where it was kept. Depending on the version, Raven's motives can either be purely selfish or more benevolent, and sometimes starts the story as a pure white bird who is stained black with soot in the act of taking the Sun. The duality of Raven’s intentions as well as the theme of light/warmth being hidden in darkness until it’s brought out felt fitting for a character whose motivations are complex and left a little ambiguous in canon (James grapples with whether his own act was purely selfish or one of love/mercy) AND someone who is naturally warm and caring but slipped behind a cold, dark wall of depression and self-isolation. The theme of being permanently marked/transformed by an act, whether for good or for bad, felt fitting too.

(Obligatory Disclaimer That My (Very White) Personal Interpretation Should Not Remotely Be Considered An Authentic Take On The Myth And Is Not Intended To Be Appropriation. For fic purposes the story would only have come up as an interesting symbolic parallel/running motif among many others, not a Literal Connection. James is a clueless white dude and Silent Hill doesn’t even take place on the west coast.)

“BUT WAIT! Doesn’t stealing the sun from a malevolent party and freeing it sound sort of like Harry rescuing Alessa/Cheryl/Heather??” Yes, this was going to be a source of in-character confusion and a surprise twist when it turns out they got their birds mixed up. Blah blah nothing is as it seems and destiny is mutable.

One time while I was walking on a foggy beach I got followed around by an enormous raven who was just sort of waddle-hopping after me looking forlorn and scruffy and the experience stuck with me and now all these years later my enormous galaxy brain is just like “That was Big James Energy”.

Wow that was long, I’m sorry.

HENRY TOWNSHEND | CORVUS FRUGILEGUS (Rook)

The most obvious symbolism is probably the chess piece with the same name-- that felt fitting for Henry since he’s probably the protagonist who has to do the most strategizing. Between his limited inventory and his progressively-more-cursed apartment and escorting Eileen and his five billion trips across multiple fractured Otherworlds, my poor guy has a lot to mentally keep track of. In the fic, he was going to wind up being the one to keep track of all the weird complicated bullshit items and rituals they had to complete to get through the Otherworld.

The rook chess piece also resembles a castle, and unlike the other protagonists whose stories progress in a linear fashion, Henry operates from/returns to his home base shitty cursed apartment.

BUT ONTO THE BIRD the rook is a corvid like the crow and the raven, and shares their pest/death omen status in popular culture. Just appropriate for SH protags in general since they keep getting in the way of the cult’s business and also misfortune follows them.

In the SH3 Crematorium Puzzle (I’ll talk more about that in Heather’s section), there is a poem:    "The black Rook is the praying sort    Who hears the gods in the skies    His whispered petitions go on without end    And glassy and dim are his eyes" Obviously this does NOT describe Henry as a person, but it IS eerily reminiscent of the title that was thrust upon him: Receiver. Maybe if Walter’s plans had succeeded, this is how Henry would have ended up.

There is also an old belief that if rooks abandon an established “rookery” (place where they regularly roost), it’s a sign of calamity to follow. If Henry the Certified Homebody (tm) bursts out of the apartment complex and goes staggering down the street, you should get out of that apartment complex.

HEATHER MASON | AGELAIUS PHOENICEUS (Red-Winged Blackbird)

Oh boy this one’s probably the weirdest but here we go.

The first obvious thing is that unlike the other three, the red-winged blackbird is not actually a corvid (it’s from the Icteridae family, not the Corvidae family). In-universe, this was supposed to represent Heather being inherently different from the rest (like... she basically is an iteration of the Silent Hill deity), even if she seems to be a normal human. Harry’s act of stealing her from the Order and changing her appearance/name to hide her was going to be depicted as “dousing Her in black ink, but [the ink] not able to fully conceal Her radiance”. The red and gold shoulders of the blackbird visually symbolize her “””true nature””” peeking out.

I also associate her specifically with the MALE red-winged blackbird (the female looks completely different, hooray sexual dimorphism) because gender is a fuck and Heather understandably has some really intense and complicated issues with womanhood/femininity. One of my favorite aspects of her as a character is how she blurs the line between masculine and feminine, especially since she’s been through so much... extremely gendered violence, to put it lightly. Heather Mason says FUCK YOUR GENDER BINARY.

As a fun side-note, Heather is also represented (or appears to be, ymmv) by a bird in canon! The SH3 Crematorium puzzle (on hard mode) features a series of poems each about birds, and each one represents a character if you squint. Heather seems to be referenced in this one:     "The Wren, with pure heart as yet unrefined     Makes us laugh with his feeble lip-smacking     But still we all know he shall never grow old     And he knows not how much he is lacking." Heather’s role as a brash, foolhardy youth who talks tough to cope is pretty blatantly summed up in there, as is the fact that she’s... functionally immortal and keeps fucking reincarnating. The wren, a plucky little bird, is perfect for her. The part of the main riddle that references the wren is also... ominously on the nose, given Heather’s backstory:     "Burn the one who knows no death     Pure, adored by those above     No prayers within, just simple love.”

YET ANOTHER CREMATORIUM POEM could be construed as representing the town’s God (or the spiritual force of the land, w/e), damaged/corrupted/turned malevolent by All The Bullshit:     "The Kite, hot, crazy, and panting mad     Sweet shackles that tease and excite     Death itself would drive him wild     Red blood that turns milky white"  Heather is a pure-hearted protagonist in one sense, but there’s plenty of not-so-subtle hints to a bloodlust and desire for violence just waiting to break free (ESPECIALLY when Heather does certain things that could be considered taking on the role of God). So to me the Kite is what happens when Heather gets sick of being nice and decides to go apeshit.

“BUT WAIT what does this have to do with the red-winged blackbird?” The inherent trinity of Heather’s character (Alessa/Cheryl/Heather, the Mother of God/Daughter of God/God Herself) deserves a bird trinity too. I’M GREEDY, I WANT *ALL* THE BIRD METAPHORS!

Red-winged blackbirds are bold little shits who will straight up harass birds of prey. Kind of like Heather does to God.

The fact that “phoeniceus” was part of the scientific name was a VERY delightful coincidence-- but I’m not complaining about how satisfying I found it that my Bird Choice (tm) inadvertently connects her to the concept of the phoenix, poster child of pyrogenesis.

That was even longer than James’, I’m so sorry.

SO THAT’S THE META BEHIND THOSE CHOICES FOR THE FOUR MAIN CHARACTERS. If you’re still interested after all that BS, I can write up another (probably much shorter) post for the other characters. Thanks for the ask!

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 8)

A/n: This part is super upsetting. Character death, graphic violence, I dare even say gore. Homophia, which I should have been warning a while back I am so sorry for that. Things are gonna get HEAVY- I am so sorry lol.

Word Count: 3800+

Playlist

Masterlist

"Nah, you're not crazy," Harleen giggled.

"Says you," Y/n teased, rolling his eyes. "You may have a doctorate, but you're also bias."

Her smile widened. "Okay that's fair." Y/n sighed, sitting back in his chair. He looked down at his hands, smile small as he got lost in thought. "What's on your mind?"

"Harleen is kind of a mouthful," Y/n told her. "Do you like the name?"

She tilted her head, as if considering. "I never did. When I was younger I had a friend who called me Lee, but with things happening-" Y/n's face scrunched up and Harleen snorted. "Exactly. Name's already taken- and it would be even weirder if I went by Dr. Lee, so I scratched it."

Y/n nodded. Then he sat forward, his elbows resting on the table. "So you've never had any other nicknames?" She shook her head and then shrugged when Y/n donned a surprise expression. "Well I have to give you one then. That's what friends do, right?" She grinned at Y/n's words and he watched the room get a little brighter. She was magic like that- as if she was made of sunshine. Her happiness was contagious, and she made the world a little better. She was accepting and also calm, making him feel safe as well as loved. She was his best friend and he was hers and they gave each other something they couldn't get with anyone else: unhindered fun with absolutely no expectations. It was an odd place to find real friendship in, but here they were anyway. "What about... Leena?" She immediately shook her head and he chuckled. "Uh... I mean, there's always Harley."

She considered that. "You know what, I like it." She crossed her arms. "Harley Quinzel." She nodded. "I'll allow it."

Y/n rolled his eyes. She was only like four years older than him, but had far too quickly fallen into a rhythm of acting like an adult talking to a child every once in a while, as a joke. Whether she was flaunting the years she had over him, or the schooling, Y/n wasn’t sure, but he refused to acknowledge it and it had become an unspoken inside joke between them. "What about you? I have to give you one now."

Y/n shrugged. "I don't like nicknames."

Harley tilted her head, the bottom of her blonde ponytail brushing her shoulder. "Why not? You like giving them."

"Well, yeah..." He bit his lip. "It's just, every bad guy has a code name, you know? Oswald Cobblepot goes by Penguin. Edward Nygma is going around as Riddler. Then there's Mr. Freeze. I just feel like if I take an alias, it'll be official you know? I'll be as crazy as the people I associate with and as evil as everyone says I am."

Harley hummed. "Okay, that's fair." She sighed, raising her hands to rest her chin in her palm. "Speaking of people you associate with. You and Jerome..."

Y/n's mood darkened. It had been a while now and Oswald was gone and Jerome still hadn't made an appearance. "I think he's mad at me." Harley tilted her head in confusion and Y/n shrugged. "I left with Alfred because Bruce needed me. Didn't give him a heads up, and then went missing for, like, months..." He shook his head. "Maybe he thinks I've gone back to my old life, or that I've left him behind. I just feel like he's avoiding me and one doesn't usually do that for no reason, so I figure-"

"What if he's just busy?" Harley proposed.

Y/n snorted. "With what? Reading a really good book series?"

Harley pursed her lips. "I guess you have a point."

"Why do you even care?" Y/n asked, raising his hands to knit his fingers behind his head.

Harley stared at him silently for a long time. She had the look on her face she always does when she'd trying to read Y/n's mind. When she's analyzing everything she learned in school and looking at the actions and words that he was currently giving as context, as well as past ones, and then somehow putting it all together to figure out the secrets sometimes even he didn't know. The same magic that made Arkham home also gave her the ability to read minds- Y/n had determined she was a proper superhero.

After she reached some kind of conclusion - she always nodded after she'd done the reading and then switched which leg was crossed over the other - a little smile teased her lips. She was trying to hide it. And failing. Y/n tried not to be curious. Usually when Harley didn't tell him something it was because he wasn't ready to hear it... but that smile. It was too late. He had to know. "What?"

Once he asked, the gate broke and she grinned. "You're in love with him."

Y/n snorted. "No. I'm not." The coy curl of Harley's lips added to her raised eyebrows to make Y/n doubt himself, even though he could feel his feelings and knew that it wasn't... he didn't... no way. "He's important to me," Y/n gave. "I care for him. But... love..." Y/n shook his head. "I don't know about that. There's been too much going on- I haven't had enough time with him."

She nodded, expression serious, as if this was a very important discovery. "I call Maid of Honor at the wedding though." They locked eyes as Y/n went to tell her off, but then a slow smile rose to her face as he realized she was joking. They both busted up into laughter.

"Whoever I marry, the position is yours." He winked at her and she flipped her hair, both of them giggling.

A timer went off. Harley stood, gathering her stuff and sighing. "That's my cue. Same time tomorrow?"Y/n nodded then stood.

He draped his arm around her shoulders. "You know, you make this place bearable. You're a real friend to me." He kissed her forehead. "What would I do without you, hm?"

She rested her head on his shoulder for a second before they began walking and it got too awkward to coordinate. "Probably the same thing I'd do without you. Be alone and miserable." She popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He pretended to gag and she fell into a short fit of soft giggles. "You're an idiot."

"Ah and yet what I lack for a brain, I make up with a big-" He cut off and she groaned. "Heart," he enunciated. He smirked and she rolled her eyes. "I have quite a large heart, full of love for my favorite gal." He shook her slightly, making a point that said gal was her.

"Every lesbian deserves a best friend with as little brains and as big a heart as you," Harley joked.

"And every gay deserves a best friend with as much brain and just as much heart as you." He finally let her go as she moved to the door that would lead outside. This is where they parted- her, to home, as he was her last patient as per usual. Him, further into the Asylum where he would have dinner then return to his room to be alone and sleep. Goodbyes were the pair's least favorite part of the day. "Until we next meet, Madame," Y/n initiated, pulling away to bow deeply.

Harley grabbed her doctor's coat lightly, pulling it out as if it was a dress as she bowed back. "I shall count the seconds." They laughed one last time, waving before she turned and left. He watched her go until she disappeared. She turned back several times to wave yet again, until she couldn't see him either just by turning around.

The second she was out of sight, the world lost a little color. It was a little darker. His smile got smaller and Y/n's shoulders sagged. He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning back to the hallway that lead to his room, beginning the trek.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. People rarely touched him. The only person that touched him like this was one that Y/n hated so much that his hands curled into fists in his pocket, his face suddenly cold and empty as he stared straight ahead, halfway through a step- his foot on the ground and extended, but not carrying him forward as it had been intended to. He took a deep breath through his nose. Unfortunately, in all the chaos and people getting booted from Arkham after beating on Y/n, the one person that meant the most hadn't been caught because everyone refused to rat him out.

The man who'd started it all.

"You and her..." The older guard mused, a nasty smirk on his ugly face. "I thought you were gay." He said it mockingly, like he'd caught a child who hadn't said they weren’t hungry sneaking food when everyone seemed to be asleep.

Y/n rolled his eyes, forcing his body to relax as he faced the man. The monster. "Not every girl in the world was born solely for men to shove a dick into them, Jameson." The older man glared and Y/n smiled, getting satisfaction. "As a matter of a fact, Harley and I are just friends."

"You're pretty affectionate for just friends," Jameson argued. Y/n still didn't know the man's first name. He didn't care enough too. He didn't want another name that tasted bitter in his mouth. He already had his fingers crossed he'd never meet a cute boy with the last name Jameson, because the name alone would ruin Y/n's chances before he'd even taken a shot. No reason to make it even harder for himself.

"We're comfortable around each other." He rolled his shoulder back once, slightly stiff from sitting so long. Jameson wouldn't attack, knowing that Y/n would report him instantly- especially in such an open space, with cameras and the chance of someone rounding the corner any second - but one could never be too safe, just in case. "She gets me like no one else does. But, as you so wonderfully pointed out, I'm GAY." Y/n enunciated the word, going the extra mile by taking a step closer to stress it even more. "Girls aren't my thing."

Jameson looked like he wanted to deck Y/n. The younger boy's lips curved into a mocking smile in response. Now the guard was the one who had to control himself. "You guys have a lot in common?"

Y/n shrugged, too caught up in his casual gloating that Jameson couldn't act out like he wanted to- like he used to be able to. "Enough. We talk a lot. She's cool." He relaxed thinking about Harley. "She doesn't think I'm crazy. It's nice." He cleared his throat, focusing back on the enemy in front of him... only to immediately be confused by the very odd expression on Jameson's face. "What?"

"Nothing," the man dismissed, moving to leave. "I've heard enough. You're both a waste." He shook his head as he left and Y/n glared at his back until he was gone. Then the boy turned back toward the cell and finally made his way.

Man, why did he have to be surrounded by such assholes? Why couldn't Harley be around all the time? Why couldn't he be free? They could get an apartment and talk all the time. Help each other get through life and protect each other from unwanted attention. Be themselves all the time. Make jokes and exchange irritated expressions when idiots like Jameson said stupid shit like he always tended to.

Tomorrow. He'd see her tomorrow. That wasn't too far away.

He could wait until then.

-

Y/n's knees gave out from under him and he fell, cracking them on the cement. He didn't even feel it. His attention was being completely held by the TV, which was turned onto the news. It was a small screen that had been installed in one of the Day Rooms recently. They were rarely ever allowed to watch the news, though. In places like Gotham, far too often the news held very upsetting content that set inmates off- either into panics, or into violent rages. Y/n had stood to turn it off when he'd realized what news was being shared. Someone had been murdered. Old news. This was Gotham. Then he'd heard the name.

"23-year-old Harleen Quinzel was found dead earlier today. Her body was badly beaten, with words carved into her stomach. It was the cuts on her wrist that were the cause of death, though it's been determined that none of this was self inflicted. We received a photo of the body recently. Beware: what you're about to see is not for the faint of heart."

Suddenly the screen was showing the broken body of Y/n's best friend. The sunshine girl with the bright smile and the contagious laugh. The girl who was going to be Y/n's Maid of Honor. Y/n's better half. She was limp and unmoving, her eyes wide and empty. Her skin was pale, nearly white, except for where dark, huge bruises and blood discolored it. Her hair had been cut off, the blonde locks left next to her head but clearly detached. Her shirt had been rolled up to letters on her stomach- carved as promised.

There was an L next to a G, in a circle and crossed through once. Underneath the symbol read: Sinner.

Someone was talking, but Y/n couldn't make out what they were saying. A hand in his shoulder and he looked over to see a concerned guard. A woman. She knelt next to Y/n, but she wasn't the one touching him. No, that hand belonged to Jameson, who had a sick expression on his face- a cross between smugness and victory, muted as if he was trying to hide it, badly masked by some version of concern that was so unconvincing that Y/n ripped his shoulder out of the older man's hand.

He was on his feet again and running. Out of the room and to his cell- despite all the people who kept asking him what was going on, and someone in the very back changing the channel as the news reporter announced, "If you have any information, please contact-" Y/n ignored the rules. He ignored the people yelling at him. He ignored the people trying to stop him. He just started running and he didn't stop until he was in his room, where he opened the door and closed it behind him. His heart was ramming against his chest and all he could hear was the rushing of his blood in his ears. He saw black spots and felt an emotion bubble up that he couldn't even begin to put name to. All he knew was that it was dark and twisting and it was very quickly consuming everything good.

Something in him broke. It snapped off. Something vital. Y/n was aching, but he didn't know what it was or where it had fallen to as he lost it. He just knew there was suddenly a gaping hole where something very important used to be, and he felt absolutely terrible with it gone.

On the upside, he could finally breathe. His chest loosened and his body relaxed and as the door opened behind him, he turned to see the person with complete calm.

"Jameson." The word was not a greeting, but more of an observation. No. It was an accusation. The older man smiled and Y/n's insides began to twist and boil- less like a tightening of anxiety and more like a snake, seconds from attacking. "Why?" He stepped forward. "She was innocent."

Jameson scoffed. "You think you two are subtle? You two act like you're together and then talk about how you're not- you just 'get' each other." Jameson shook his head, cracking his knuckles. "You're spreading your sickness, Y/n." The snake coiled tighter, hissing and spitting. Y/n felt his calmness very quickly drop, perfectly placed with rage. His body didn't move, he just suddenly had a bunch of energy and he was waiting for the perfect moment to use it. "You two aren't quiet either. Strutting around here acting so out of line, in front of me. Acting like you're not being evil." Jameson scoffed. "You're evil, Y/n. And if they wouldn't let me punish you here, I'd have to get more creative. Even if you don't see it, you're in love with her. What you think you are is unnatural, and I knew if you could see how you really feel-"

Y/n's hand was around the man's throat. Jameson tried to push the younger boy away or claw his hand off, but Y/n just rammed him into the wall behind him. Jameson's head cracked against the grey wall, his efforts suddenly becoming useless. "You think I'm dangerous as a disease? You're so desperate to cure me. You're about to find just how very dangerous I am, Jameson. All on my own, with just my two hands." And then he began to squeeze. Jameson writhed and fought and clawed but when he started to get strong, Y/n would smash his head again or ram his knee into the man's junk and the efforts died down once again.

It took longer than Y/n thought. Jameson started to change color, his eyes bulging and his lips moving desperately but nothing coming in or out. Just when the man seemed about ready to pass out, Y/n let him drop to the floor. He gasped, clawing to try and get away. Y/n smiled, toeing the door gently closed. Jameson squirmed away, features taken over completely with terror. Y/n felt amazing.

"You will never hurt another person, ever again." Y/n squatted down, taking the man's thin hair in his hands. "Me however?" Y/n giggled. "You've helped create a monster. Know that every person I kill in the future is on your hands. Every injury is your fault. I'm not a violent person, Jameson." He snorted. "Well, I wasn't. But it seems you fuckwads only answer to violence, so..." Y/n shrugged casually. Jameson shook his head, choking out pleads for his life. Y/n snapped the man's neck and he stopped begging. It was so easy... The silence was wonderful. Y/n felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. "I'm done sitting idly while assholes run Gotham." Y/n stood, not even bothering to do anything but leave the door wide open as he walked calmly away, grinning like an idiot.

Something had been broken and lost indeed. It was Y/n's self control. His moral compass that kept him grounded and toeing the line between good and bad. It was the thing that kept reminding him he was a Wayne. That he was a good person. That he had a family that depended on him, in some way or another. That he had Alfred and Bruce, who he did want to visit even if he also wanted a life outside of them. That he had Oswald, who most often found solace in Y/n's sanity and depended on his restraint to reel him in when people were trying to set him off; Oswald needed Y/n's sense to balance his emotions. And, overall, Y/n was driven by pure spite not to let those damn reporters be right. He would be good and successful and he would show all of them that he could be more than the black sheep of the Wayne family. The disappointment of Gotham. The failure, always in the shadow of the Golden Boy younger brother Bruce Wayne.

But those people who Y/n cared about so much had let people like Jameson walk around, unhindered and unchecked. They had let him get beat up for a very long time before he was nearly killed and their hand was forced. They had let evil people run around and control things while they locked up Y/n for being gay. For being attracted to a man even though he wasn't a woman. There were murderers running wild, with super powers and incredible genius, but the problem people were deciding to focus on was that Y/n was gay.

Well, he was done with the lot of them. He was going to get out and prove to all of them that he was more than a Wayne. More than a mistake. More than a shadow. More than evil or good. More than Bruce's older brother. More than the one dude who had feelings for Jerome Valeska. More than one more gay plague on the face of the planet.

They wanted a monster? They would get one. And Y/n wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied, even if it meant all of Gotham had to die.

-

"Knock knock."

The door opened and Y/n looked over, his face finally showing emotion as his surprise rose. "Jerome?"

The redhead smiled, striding toward Y/n as if he has a tasty treat to share. "My little lover boy." Jerome hooked his finger under Y/n's chin. Y/n yanked his face away. Jerome frowned. "Are you mad at me, pretty boy?" Y/n glared at him. "I'll take that as a yes." He leaned backward. "What have I done, My Darling?"

"You've been avoiding me. We haven't talked in, like, months Jerome. What the fuck?"

"A tad dramatic," Jerome hushed. "And not totally fault." Y/n opened his mouth to argue but Jerome gently grabbed Y/n's throat, pressing his fingers gently into the skin. Their faces were suddenly very close and despite himself, Y/n suddenly felt a thrill to finally feel their skin touch as cheek brushed cheek. "I've been busy planning our escape, if you hadn't noticed." Y/n's eyes drifted to see a nervous Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch. "Come with me, won't you? I think we've been apart long enough."

Y/n suddenly began to relax. He didn't manage to smile, but he did get excited. "Well... lead the way."

Jerome left an excited kiss on Y/n's cheek, letting his hand fall away from Y/n's throat in favor of shooting into the air in victory as he giggled, turning to his two partners. "And so we all escape! Come now, we don't have much time." Y/n stood as Jerome lead the way, all four of the men finding their way out of Arkham Asylum finally.

The fun was about to begin.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #482

Top Ten Sega Games

So I read somewhere on the internet that in June it’s the thirtieth birthday of Sonic the Hedgehog (making him only a couple of months younger than my brother, which is weird). This is due to his debut game, the appropriately-titled Sonic the Hedgehog, being first released on June 23rd. As such – and because I do love a good Tenuous Link – I’ve decided to dedicate this week’s list to Sega (also there was that Sonic livestream and announcement of new games, so I remain shockingly relevant).

I’ve got a funny relationship with Sega, largely because I’ve got a funny relationship with last century’s consoles in general. As I’ve said before, I never had a console growing up, and never really felt the need for one; I came from a computing background, playing on other people’s Spectrums and Commodores before getting my own Amiga and, later, a PC. And I stuck with it, and that was fine. But it does mean that, generally speaking, I have next to zero nostalgia for any game that came out on a Nintendo or Sega console (or Sony, for that matter). I could chew your ear off about Dizzy, or point-and-click adventure games, or Team 17, or Sensible Software, or RTS games, or FPS games, or whatever; but all these weird-looking Japanese platform games, or strange, unfamiliar RPGs? No idea. In fact, I remember learning what “Metroidvania” meant about five years ago, and literally saying out loud, “oh, so it’s like Flashback, then,” because I’d never played a (2D) Metroid or Castlevania game. Turns out they meant games that were, using the old Amiga Action terminology, “Arcade Adventures”. Now it makes sense.

Despite all this, I did actually play a fair few Sega games, as my cousins had a Mega Drive. So I’d get to have a bash at a fair few of them after school or whatever. This meant that, for a while, I was actually more of a Sega fan than a Nintendo one, a situation that’s broadly flipped since Sega stopped making hardware and Nintendo continued its gaming dominance. What all of this means, when strung together, is that I have a good deal of affection for some of the classics of Sega’s 16-bit heyday, but I don’t have the breadth or depth of knowledge you’d see from someone who, well, actually owned a console before the original Xbox. Yeah, sure, there are lots of games I liked back then; and probably quite a few that I still have warm nostalgic feelings for, even if they’re maybe not actually very good (Altered Beast, for instance, which I’m reliably informed was – to coin a very early-nineties phrase – “pants”, despite my being fond of it at the time). Therefore this list is probably going to be quite eccentric when compared to other “Best of Sega” lists. Especially because in the last couple of decades Sega has become a publisher for a number of development studios all around the world, giving support and distribution to the makers of diverse (and historically non-console) franchises as Total War and Football Manager. These might not be the fast-moving blue sky games one associates with Sega, but as far as I’m concerned they’re a vital part of the company’s history as it moved away from its hardware failures (and the increasingly lacklustre Sonic franchise) and into new waters. And just as important, of course, are their arcade releases, back in the days when people actually went to arcades (you know, I have multi-format games magazines at my parents’ house that are so old they actually review arcade games. Yes, I know!).

So, happy birthday, Sonic, you big blue bugger, you. Sorry your company pooed itself on the home console front. Sorry a lot of your games over the past twenty years have been a bit disappointing. But in a funny way you helped define the nineties, something that I personally don’t feel Mario quite did. And your film is better than his, too.

Crazy Taxi (Arcade, 1999): a simple concept – drive customers to their destination in the time limit – combined with a beautiful, sunny, blue skied rendition of San Francisco, giving you a gorgeous cityscape (back when driving round an open city was a new thrill), filled with hills to bounce over and traffic to dodge. A real looker twenty years ago, but its stylised, simple graphics haven’t really dated, feeling fittingly retro rather than old-fashioned or clunky. One of those games that’s fiendishly difficult to master, but its central hook is so compelling you keep coming back for more.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (Mega Drive, 1992): games have rarely felt faster, and even if the original Sonic’s opening stages are more iconic, overall I prefer the sequel. Sonic himself was one of those very-nineties characters who focused on a gentle, child-friendly form of “attitude”, and it bursts off the screen, his frown and impatient foot-tapping really selling it. the gameplay is sublime, the graphics still really pop, and the more complex stages contrast nicely with the pastoral opening. Plus it gave us Tails, the game industry’s own Jar Jar Binks, who I’ll always love because my cousin made me play as him all the time.

Medieval II: Total War (PC, 2006): I’ll be honest with you, this game is really the number one, I just feel weird listing “Best Sega Games” and then putting a fifteen-year-old PC strategy game at the top of the pile. But what can I say? I like turn-based PC strategy games, especially ones that let you go deep on genealogy and inter-familial relationships in medieval Europe. everyone knows the real-time 3D battles are cool – they made a whole TV show about them – but for me it’s the slow conquering of Europe that’s the highlight. Marrying off princesses, assassinating rivals, even going on ethically-dubious religious crusades… I just love it. I’ve not played many of the subsequent games in the franchise, but to be honest I like this setting so much I really just want them to make a third Medieval game.

Sega Rally Championship (Arcade, 1994): what, four games in and we’re back to racing? Well, Sega make good racing games I guess. And Sega Rally is just a really good racing game. Another one of those that was a graphical marvel on its release, it has a loose and freewheeling sense of fun and accessibility. Plus it was one of those games that revelled in its open blue skies, from an era when racing games in the arcades loved to dazzle you with spectacle – like when a helicopter swoops low over the tracks. I had a demo of this on PC, too, and I used to race that one course over and over again.

After Burner (Arcade, 1987): there are a lot of arcade games in this list, but when they’re as cool as After Burner, what can you do? This was a technological masterpiece back in the day: a huge cockpit that enveloped you as you sat in the pilot’s seat, joystick in hand. The whole rig moved as you flew the plane, and the graphics (gorgeous for their time) wowed you with their speed and the way the horizon shifted. I was, of course, utterly crap at it, and I seem to remember it was more expensive than most games, so my dad hated me going on it. But it was the kind of thrilling experience that seems harder to replicate nowadays.

Virtua Cop (Arcade, 1994): I used to love lightgun games in the nineties. This despite being utterly, ridiculously crap at them. I can’t aim; ask anyone. But they felt really cool and futuristic, and also you could wave a big gun around like you were RoboCop or something. Virtua Cop added to the fun with its cool 3D graphics. Whilst I’d argue Time Crisis was better, with a little paddle that let you take cover, Cop again leveraged those bright Sega colours to give us a beautiful primary-coloured depiction of excessive ultra-violence and mass death.

Two Point Hospital (PC, 2018): back once again to the point-and-clickers, with another PC game only nominally Sega. But I can’t ignore it. Taking what was best about Theme Hospital and updating it for the 21st Century, TPH is a darkly funny but enjoyably deep management sim, with cute chunky graphics and an easy-to-use interface (Daughter #1 is very fond of it). The console adaptations are good, too. I’d love to see where Two Point go next. Maybe to a theme park…?

Jet Set Radio Future (Xbox, 2002): I never had a Dreamcast. But I remember seeing the original Jet Set Radio – maybe on TV, maybe running on a demo pod in Toys ‘R’ Us or something – and being blown away. It was the first time I’d ever seen cel shading, and it was a revelation; just a beautiful technique that I didn’t think was possible, that made the game look like a living cartoon. Finally being able to play the sequel on my new Xbox was terrific, because the gameplay was excellent too: a fast-paced game of chaining together jumps and glides, in a city that was popping with colour and bursting with energy. Felt like playing a game made entirely of Skittles and Red Bull.

The Typing of the Dead (PC, 2000): The House of the Dead games were descendants of Virtua Cop’s lightgun blasting, but with zombies. Yeah, cool; I liked playing them at the arcades down at Teesside Park, in the Hollywood Bowl or the Showcase cinema. But playing this PC adaptation of the quirky typing-based spin-off was something else. A game where you defeat zombies by correctly typing “cow” or “bottle” or whatever as quickly as possible? A game that was simultaneously an educational typing instructor and also a zombie murder simulator? The fact that the characters are wearing Ghostbusters-style backpacks made of Dreamcast consoles and keyboards is just a seriously crazy detail, and the way the typing was integrated into the gameplay – harder enemies had longer words, for instance – was very well done. A bonkers mini-masterpiece.

Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games Tokyo 2020 (Switch, 2019): the very fact that erstwhile cultural enemies Mario and Sonic would ever share a game at all is the stuff of addled mid-nineties fever dreams; like Downey’s Tony Stark sharing the screen with Bale’s Batman (or Affleck’s Batman, who the hell cares at this point). The main thing is, it’s still crazy to think about it, even if it’s just entirely ordinary for my kids, sitting their unaware of the Great Console Wars of the 1990s. Anyway, divorced of all that pan-universal gladhanding, the games are good fun, adapting the various Olympic sports with charm, making them easy-to-understand party games, often with motion control for the benefit of the youngs and the olds. I don’t remember playing earlier games extensively, but the soft-RPG trappings of the latest iteration are enjoyable, especially the retro-themed events and graphics. Earns a spot in my Top Ten for its historic nature, but it’s also thoroughly enjoyable in its own right.

Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if all those crazy internet rumours were actually true, and Microsoft did announce it was buying Sega this E3? This really would feel like a very timely and in some ways prescient list.

[lsstrange]

introducing , cassius alaric lestrange. 

quick intro

at the moment cassius is a reluctant villain, pretty much forced into this by family and circumstances. he’s done plenty of bad things, killed a few people, some because he had to, some because he wanted to. right now he’s a little bored of the villain lifestyle but doesn’t really know how to quit it. i might dig his hole even deeper or try and make him a good guy, not sure which route to take. guess i’ll just see where the rp takes this. 

information

as long-standing members of the sacred twenty-eight, the lestranges consider themselves almost royalty and expect to be treated as such. they take great pride in the pureblood status and are not afraid to flaunt it whenever given the opportunity or talk down to those they consider inferior. they passed down the same ‘values’ to their children. 

cassius has a twin sister who is a few minutes older than him. normally, she would stand to inherit everything as the oldest but their father wouldn’t hear of it. hector lestrange is as sexist as they come and he believes the only things a woman should inherit are pots and pans. he only acknowledges his wife and daughter during public events when they need to look like a picture perfect family. 

growing up, cass tried to shield his sister as much as possible form the horrible things their parents did to them, especially their mother. he’d often take blame for her mistakes, knowing whatever punishment he’d receive would be far less than she would. yeah, pretty violent family behind closed doors, verbally and physically. 

he did not inherit the sexist trait from mr lestupid. in fact, he’s very respectful towards women, unless they are his mother. when he was younger, cass would sometimes play along with his father’s comments, mostly out of fear that if he’d contradict the man he’d hurt his sister. cass’ parents quickly learned that they could use their daughter as a way of keeping their son in check and took full advantage of that. 

hector and ophelia lestrange were never the warm and fuzzy type of parents. their interest in the children never went past checking up on how their studies were going and grooming them for their future professions: ministry worker (maybe straight up minister) for cassius and housewife for his sister. 

their mother loves to take out all of her frustrations on the children, even now when they are adults. she loves to find new ways to threaten them and keep them just as miserable as she is. cassius has often fantasized of getting rid of her but he’s never really had the opportunity to do the deed. he hopes he will one day, before she drops dead of natural causes. 

his father passed on a bit of a drinking problem to cass. 

as a child, cass never really understood his family’s obsession with blood purity and their hatred towards everyone who wasn’t like them. one day he dared ask his father why it was so important, something he regrets to this day --- he still has the scars to remind of that beating and why it’s important to keep his opinions to himself.

since that day his parents have been wary of him and kept cassius on an even tighter leash so he wouldn’t go around talking nonsense to other people or, heaven forbid, associate himself with the wrong type of people. instead of further questioning the way of things, cassius decided it would be much easier, and safer, to just go with it --- even if he still doesn’t understand what the hell blood has to do with magical abilities. 

becoming a knight was not something cassius chose as much as it chose him. all his relatives, and almost all of his acquaintances, are firm believers and defenders of the blood purity doctrine so, when riddle came up with the plan to eradicate the muggle scum, they all jumped at the idea. naturally, cassius was expected to follow in their steps. 

school was an escape for cassius. even though his mother was constantly sending letters reminding him to keep up his studies and not embarrass her by associating with the wrong crowds, at least she wasn’t there in person so he could ignore her. he was pretty popular, mostly because of his last name, but didn’t make a fuss out of it. he sometimes loved the crowd and the attention, sometimes hated it. he was also on the slytherin quidditch team from year 4 to year 7. he played chaser and was even captain in his final year at hogwarts. 

after graduation, cassius was expected to go work in the ministry of magic just like his father. his choice to become a curse breaker left his parents scandalized, especially his mother. the only reason they tolerate his profession is because they still have need for an heir and can’t kill him for disobedience. 

mrs. cassius lestrange

as a way of controlling their son further, the lestranges forced him into a quick and loveless marriage. she is the daughter of another important pureblood family and, unlike cassius, she is someone who actually understands the importance of blood purity and duty. the lestranges hoped she would manage to keep their son in check. the couple have two sons together, rodolphus and rabastan, but cassius isn’t very involved as a father. 

in fact he isn’t very involved in the marriage altogether. he’s never wanted it so he’s not really trying his best to be a good husband. he’s nice to his wife, tries to keep up a decent friendship for the sake of appearances, but lives separately from her and kind of does his own thing. 

ex-lover/wedlock baby mama

cassius had a fling with a muggle a few years back and it resulted in a child. he’s kept the secret from everyone except his sister. he doesn’t care about his reputation but he does care about her and the kid so he’s worries his family might try to kill them to avoid the humiliation of the situation. at some point he thought he was in love with this woman but he’s not so sure. they aren’t really together anymore. still, they keep in touch and he sends her money to take care of their kid. 

personality

personality wise cassius is generally charming but distant. he’s as polite as he can be but is very reticent to open up to people. he can talk about nothing for hours but ask him a personal question and watch him shut down. while he’s definitely prone to violence, cass also knows how to choose his battles so he doesn’t immediately lash out when angered. 

[vergilboyfriend]

You should do all of them questions and 90 is true

I love you!!!!

1. Favorite instrument?

I work at a music store u can’t just ask me this. When my coworkers play it’s the saxophone or the flute, when the boys in the repair shop are testing repairs and they harmonize with each other or try to outplay one another it’s the bassoon or the trombone or whatever they’re fixing at the moment. When I hear 🎺 give his lesson on Wednesday afternoons it’s the trumpet, and when I think about middle school it’s the clarinet, the flute, the French horn. When I hear the nutcracker pas des deux is the oboe and when I hear edith piaf l’accordeoniste it’s the remarkable human voice. Really my favorite instrument is all of them, it just depends.

2. Favorite fic trope? Mutual pining 🥺

3. Sport you played for the longest amount of time? LMAO I wasn’t a sporty kid but I did ballet

4. Shoe size? 10-11

5. Most recent (good) dream? Uhh I had a dream last night about my coworker 🎹 it wasn’t bad though I can’t really remember what it was about

6. Last person in your DMs? smugg

7. Can you do a handstand? Nooo nooo lmaoo nooooo

8. Unpopular food opinion I don’t like oranges or red meat

9. Conspiracy you believe in? There’s some kind of weird weather dome in my hometown around the military base that makes most storms pass around us

10. Is your hair its natural color/style? Most of it is I dyed the bottom layer of my hair tho so it’s blonde rn

11. state a useless fact all that’s coming to mind is outright lies rn hold on. The inventor of pringles is buried in a pringles can that’s so fucking nasty omg

12. most interesting gossip you’ve heard? Idk I don’t really care for gossip uhhhh have u heard tho rin dippindogs is a huge gay hah she uhh she like men AND women lmao gaaay gaaaay

13. Middle name? Carolyn

14. Sexuality? Bisexual

15. Amount of sleep you got last night? Idk actually I think like 9-10 hrs tho I slept in until 11

16. Opinion on ice cream cake? Tasty!!!

17. Opinion on (cup)cake frosting? It’s depends buttercream is usually too sweet for me in large amounts so I prefer whipped cream frosting

18. Last board game you played? Idk??? We played hunt a killer tho last Thursday me n my family I guess that counts kinda

19. Project you want to start? I need ideas first baby

20. Project you’re working on right now? HAHAHAHAHAHA

21. TV show you’re watching? nothing rn I just rewatch bojack a lot if I watch anything

22. Last movie you watched? Lego batman I think

23. Ever left anon hate? Not legit hate

24. Ever left anon love? Yes all the time. Sometimes to strangers it’s my favorite thing to do

25. Best Disney movie? The princess and the frog

26. Best Pixar movie? Soul or Up I can’t decide

27. Best Star Wars? Um. Empire strikes back

28. Last thing you consumed? Fuit gumy

29. NoTP? Idk I don’t really hate ships unless they’re gross like pedophilic gross

30. story behind your (nick)name? When I was a fetus my great grandfather had a dream that my name should be Carolyn Marie but my parents were huge dweebs so they named me Marina after the actress of Deanna Troi in Star Trek. Idk about my nickname ive just always been Rina/Rin as long as I can remember

31. ice cream order? Lately it’s lemon sorbetto I know it’s SO high in sugar but I love it

32. describe your blog in <5 words I love you

33. how many blogs do you follow? 436

34. Describe your voice it depends usually I sound like a sick child but my customer service voice is really pleasant

35. Describe your smile it’s cute :)

36. What is the place you live known for? LMAOOO LMAO we have a military base nearby and like. I could go on abt that one but also like. There’s a lot of gang violence and a lot of the other consequences of poverty. People from the cities around us see us as “””ghetto””” or violent but it’s just. It’s more than that it’s always more than that. And idk what else there’s nothing really particularly special about this town except that we’re all here and not anywhere else

37. What is the place you’re originally from known for? (if they’re different)

38. pronouns? she/any idc

39. Languages you speak? English

40. first friend you made through tumblr? Idk. I probably don’t talk to them anymore :(

41. Person on tumblr you know in real life? my brother

42. First dog breed you think of shih tzu I have 2 next to me rn

43. room wall color? Purble!!!! The paint color is called grape juice that’s why I picked it!!!

44. Song that’s stuck in your head right now? It’s tricky to rock a rhyme to rock a rhyme that’s right on time it’s trickyyyyy

45. Favorite number? 5, 34

46. Color you associate with your name? Red

47. Favorite jolly rancher flavor?watermelon

48. Pets? 2 dogs rocket and groot and 4 cats loki danni who r from the same litter and we raised from kittens, miss kitty who we adopted from a shelter after my boy blue moon passed away and ben (his real name is Kylo Ren thanks to my mom but I refuse to call him that) he is my little baby and he has 7 toes on his front paws

49. Collections? Hot wheels

50. Character outside of your fandom you’d marry? Girl what lmaooo idk

51. Character outside of your fandom you’d kill? That’s mean :(

52. Have you met any celebrities? NO thank god id have to kill on sight

53. Favorite time period in history? Itslian Renaissance & Romantic Era

54. What time is it right now? 2:35 am oops

55. History or future? Future but like . A good one. Or prehistory

56. Space or ocean? Space

57. Fears? Abandonment

58. Command + v and post. It’s this list of questions u don’t want that

59. Favorite season? Spring

60. Describe your aesthetic. Messy just a mess, neon and old buildings and things, antiques, countryside if there weren’t so many trump pence flags still lmaoo give uppp give up, nature just al of nature and space and places humans can’t touch and places they used to touch but can’t anymore

61. MBTI? Infp but I haven’t taken it in a few years

62. What’s your relationship with your family like? Normal.

63. “Biggest fan” in your tumblr activity? I’m in mobile hold on acc to tumblr it’s akky

64. Favorite musical? Sweeney todd

65. Comfort book? Idk how to read 💔💔💔 wuthering heights tho

66. Comfort movie? Whisper of the heart

67. OTP? Girl idk

68. BroTP? Joey and Tristan yugioh

69. AUs or canon compliant? Canon ig idk

70. Opinion on the person who’s sending the ask? It’s an anon!! But I love them

71. FMK + 3 characters anon didnt leave any characters and I was going to say something very bad but I won’t

72. Dream date? I’ve wanted to do this for a while but ideally it would be after we’d been together a while maybe even engaged or whatever, I wanna go to like a Home Depot or a furniture store and pretend to be married and looking for house paints and furniture and plan what our home is going to look like I wanna do that so bad. But idk for a first/early relationship date i really want to go to the zilker botanical garden it’s one of my favorite places, we could also go to the natural gardener which is a plant nursery in Austin I really love it there too and it’s not that far from zilker.

73. Relationship status? Single

74. Ever dyed your hair? Do you plan to? Yes and perhaps. Maybe

75. Dream job/career? Idk anymore I used to have big girl goals and I haven’t had any in a while. But when I was younger I wanted to be a game warden

76. Favorite band/singer? Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

77. Something that makes you soft/that you find adorable? My cats

78. The first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Buy a house

79. Are you superstitious? Yes

80. Character you project onto? Shizuku tsukishima

81. Fictional character you’ve had a crush on? Vergil devil may cry. Forever husband

82. Celebrity crush? LMAO

83. Person on here you’d date? my mutuals

84. Person on here you’d marry? 🥺 my mutuals

85. Person on here you’d throw into the void? Smugg

86. Other social media you have? I’ve got a photography insta that I barely use and a Twitter that’s just nintendo switch screenies that’s it

87. Finish the sentence: Due to personal reasons, ___________i will be passing away

88. Bad habit? I find it rlly hard to say no or like to say when and why I’m upset I don’t feel like for the latter I don’t feel like I should bring something that’s upsetting me up because I know I’ll get over it on my own and I don’t really trust myself to be upset about rational things. Idk I’m working on it

89. Three things you like about yourself? I’m hot, I’m kind, I’m resilient

90. Ily and you deserve the world I love you!!!!! YOU deserve it too!!!