#because car seat headrest has changed my life to an extent and i fucking love it so much especially twin fantasy because Bodys brought me

[jumbaliathan]

EVERYONE SHHH ITS COMING THE DRUMS THEIR KICKING IN ITS BUILDING AND BUILDING oh no i'm GONNA LOSE IT QUICKLY EVERYONE THEIR KICKING IN

[eutaerpe]

maybe you’re the reason

pairing — jungkook x reader, jimin x reader

genre/warnings—   college!au, idiot best friends to lovers!au, help jungkook is cute

summary —   the most painful love story, aka idiot best friends to lovers.

notes — 2.3k words of the beginning. hope it still is worth your time? lmk ily

before

You faintly hear Jimin slapping Jungkook’s nape, a devilish smirk stuck on his lips.

“Are you actually buying condoms? Our little Kookie?”

A “Fuck off.” comes in response, and you can picture Jungkook scrolling his friend’s arm around him with boredom and too little strength, even though you’re not facing them—you see, there are far important matters in the world in this precise, excruciating moment. You eye the alcohol section with tight lips and a painfully light wallet, mentally doing the math and pondering whether you can actually buy twenty-two cans of beer with your pathetic budget. Perhaps you should abandon the quest altogether and focus on that good old big bottle of vodka in the corner. And chips. God, yes, chips.

“You know,” Jaehwan approaches them, head tilted, “I’ve always thought Kook would turn out to be a real heartthrob. All fucking ripped, full of tattoos and a big dick. The whole package, dude.”

Jimin snickers, clapping his hands. “Hey, never say never. He still has time to bloom.”

“I thought you all knew that my dick is the only big dick in this outrageous friends group, jerks,” Tae emerges in this aisle, drown in a white shirt too large for his small size and wide Bordeaux pants that will end up being the reason why he’ll trip and bring down with him Jimin. Jaehwan too, maybe, if he makes other dick jokes. You can bet on it. “Jimin can confirm it.”

“I can hear you, bastards.” Jungkook punches Taehyung, “And I hope you and your hands have fun for the rest of your life.”

“Ouch,” it’s your turn to chuckle and turn your head around, meeting your friends’ amused smiles, “That hurt.”

You stretch your legs, standing still for the first time after an intense ten-minutes session spent in front of alcohol bottles; placing both of your hands on the back of your shoulders, you make sure to crack them. Fucking finally.

“You might have an answer, then, y/n…”

Taehyung licks his lips, smirking openly. “Is our little Kookie—ah, how can I phrase this? Well, not so little?”

“How would I know?” you roll your eyes, moving towards them, “I’m not planning on seeing any of your dicks soon, thank you very much.”

His eyes sparkle. “But you’re planning to, at some point?”

You can’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, all stretched out and mischievous. “We’re currently betting on which one of you ends up sending their dick pics to the group chat first, and…” you almost close the distance between your and Tae’s body, “I’ve already bet on you, Kim.”

“Why,” he questions, smiling, “Desperate much to see me naked?”

“Not at all.” You shake off the pretend dust on his wide shoulders, all of this while his breath hitches, “I’m just the most likely to earn a hundred bucks by doing absolutely nothing.”

You pinch his cheeks, while Jungkook sneers, a pack of condom in his hands.

“Now help me grab these fucking beers.”

+

Despite being the end of July, there’s a calming, quiet breeze that makes you shiver for a second. You look back in the car, hoping to bump into a hoodie of sorts, even though the last time you checked, you didn’t bring one with you. Sucks to be one of the guys, then. You won’t say goodbye to a perfect night out on the beach because of a stupid hoodie, nope.

You hold onto the car door for a while, contemplating whose hoodie you’re gonna steal, when a warm hand brushes your arm and wakes you up from your musing.

“Thanks for earlier,” your soon-to-be buff friend says, voice just as warm as his body, “The guys can be nosy as fuck.”

You nod, slumping on the passenger seat with a sigh. “What’s the matter with buying condoms? At least one of you is having safe sex.”

“Right,” Jungkook grins, “It’s just that—I didn’t tell them?”

“That you’re having sex?”

“Yeah,” he nods, gulping, “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Enough to tell them, of course.”

Jungkook palms the wheel, before glancing at you and closing his car door.

“I mean,” you begin, scratching your cheek, “It’s not.”

It’s not unusual of your friend group to have this kind of conversation—the lot of you was painfully open minded and honest it would have never crossed a mind of yours to stray away from topics like this. Like sex. Of course, some of you were the exception. Lisa, to begin with. Jungkook, too. The two of them laughed and smiled when you talked about sex related stuff. Relationship related stuff. But not because they were uncomfortable or… against it, you reckon. They were – are – the kind of people that keeps this to themselves. That doesn’t overshare, even when it comes to their best friends. It was – fine; cool, really, because at the end of the day you know you can count on them the same way they do on you. Any of you.

The thing that throws you off is—the fact that Jeon Jungkook is telling you this. Right now. You’re one of his best friends in the same terms he’s one of yours; that doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t, in the slightest, expecting this kind of conversation. For a trillion reasons.

“But Jungkook,” he looks at you with his doe eyes, “You’ve been dating for, what? Almost a year? We literally caught Chaeyoung blowing you two weeks ago. That wouldn’t surprise us, you know.”

“Yeah, but…” he trails off, eyes focused on the dashboard. “I mean, it doesn’t… it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“What,” you ask, quietly, “What doesn’t?”

“Me engaging in,” he shrugs, shaking his head, “Me having sex.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t. But people love to talk. And it’s your best friends we’re talking about. Of course they’re gonna be bitches and talk about you when you’re not there.”

“Jerks.”

“Horny bastards.”

Jimin closes the back door with strength before throwing himself on the backseats, legs spread, and head thrown back on the headrest. He sighs, passing a hand through his blonde hair.

You look at him with sparkling eyes, fingers fidgeting with the seatbelt.

“I’m not riding with them,” he begins, pointing his chin towards Seokjin’s car, better known as the Kim car, you think, squinting your eyes when the nth Kim person enters the very vehicle. You instantly spot Jennie spitting orange juice on both Taehyung and Jaehwan, and you chuckle at the sight. “Besides, Rosie is riding with you, right? This is my chance.”

“Yeah, hyung,” Jungkook replies, eyeing you with an uneasy expression, “You better make a move.”

“You said Chaeyoung won’t join us, right? So, we can make space for Lisa too. You know, I’ll make sure she’s comfortable with us. There’s gonna be her best friend with us.”

You frown, almost instantly.

Jimin rambling is a sight for sore eyes, especially because the last time you’ve seen him this insecure and giggly, adorable self was when you were thirteen and puberty still hadn’t hit him. At the time, Jimin was just a small guy that knew more about dancing rather than playing soccer or basketball or whatever kids his age were into at the time. He was shy and always pushed his glasses onto his nose and had just gotten a crush – it’s weird seeing him again like that almost a decade later. You’re about to tell him that, yeah, you consider yourself a decent friend for Chaeyoung, but calling yourself her best friend sounds a lot like projecting, anyway—

“And then there’s you,” Jimin says, prodding your shoulder, “It’s gonna be a female filled car. Does it get any more comfortable than that?”

Does it get any more uncomfortable than this?

Jungkook snickers, handing you two CDs. You realize it seconds later, when he’s snapped his fingers in front of your questioning face and has crooked his neck to look at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

His hand grazes your tight for a flashing instant, so prompt and light you would have missed it if your eyes weren’t looking at the friend on your left, his expression unfazed.

after

“You’re a jerk—” you start in firm protest, shutting altogether when his rough hands cup your clenching jaw. He nudges his nose with yours, pressing his lips against yours in a tentative, subdued challenge. His mouth is hot when you shiver under his timid yet dominant touch; the truth is you’re weak and seconds away from throwing your arms around his shoulders, clutching around his neck and tilting your head to grant him a better access to your mouth. You do that exactly, crumbling under his knowing touch, melting against the softness of his superficially raw affection, and you hate yourself for it.

“Jimin,” you start, when his mouth is on your neck, as he grunts your name against your skin. “I can’t—we can’t.”

“I,” he begins, swallowing a moan, “I cancelled every appointment I had this morning—”

“I’m talking about us.”

He furrows his eyebrows, biting back that hideous comeback of sorts ready on his tongue. There’s no us. What are you talking about. This is not what it looks like. You know all of them like the back of your hands. He’s either said them, voice like venom during heated, comforting nights or wears them on his sleeve. He might be kind, on a vague extent you’re not even sure about right now, but he’s not a liar. Not with you, at least.

Blinking once, you can see perfectly where he stands.

Somehow, even thought you knew, already fucking knew, this is it. This is how your heart shatters.

“We talked about this, though?” he looks for confirmation in your eyes, head tilted.

“Yes,” but that’s not enough, “But I can’t. Not anymore.” You try swallowing the lump in your throat, skin already freezing because of his body no longer on yours.

Jimin lies on your bed like that, half naked and now devoid of his safety net. You’re being an utterly, brave stupid right now: staring at him, the defined muscles you gripped many times before, you realise you’re letting go of someone you love, in a twisted way. A strangled voice in your head reminds you that you’re someone you love, too, and that has to count for something.

It’s worth a try, you think, his lips in a pout, trying to convince you; but, alas. He doesn’t bother, this time. He doesn’t ask you for mercy, doesn’t beg you to understand the situation he’s in. How this isn’t cheating, it’s a pause, she’s driving him crazy, y/n! He doesn’t ask for your time, for your body, for the warmth his supposedly wife-to-be should give him.

He gets up, reaches for his tee.

The silence is heavy on your heart. It’s a chant, now, the you’re doing your best, it had to be done, don’t cry—

He looks unfazed by all of this, grabbing clothes thrown all over the place, recollecting them slowly. He’s undoing his presence, deleting the evidence, reconnecting his pieces.

A part of you wishes for his goodbye, maybe a desperate love admission, but you know him, and if there’s something you’ve learned after all these years with him is that it won’t come out of his mouth.

You’re doing your best, it had to be done, don’t cry—maybe it’ll never come out.

He doesn’t look back: Jimin doesn’t turn around in his final steps towards your door. He reaches quietly for the handle, you can see right through your open bedroom door. Then, he nods to himself instead, waving imaginary goodbyes in his head.

Just like that he’s gone.

+

“I’m not saying you won’t miss his dick game,” Taehyung scoffs, stealing fries from you. “But, ouch, don’t punch me—I’m saying it had to be done.”

You sigh, playing with the sesame seeds in your plate.

“You know it. A wise side of you knows it, at least. Just because the guy told you nice things while balls deep inside of you it doesn’t mean he ever thought of leaving his fiancée for you. How long has it been, huh?”

“Since,” you scroll your shoulders, “I don’t know? Since they got engaged.”

“My point exactly. He gives her a diamond, they fight, they break up, he fucks you, then goes back to her crying and begging. Rinse and repeat, so many times until the other woman but not-really-because-we’re-on-a-pause---I’m talking about you, darling-- thinks he’s in love with her.”

“I know he’s not, Taehyung.”

“Smart girl,” he steals more from you, “Besides, in a couple weeks we’re going back home.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

He laughs, unlocking his phone. “Why’s that? I thought you were excited to finally go back. ‘S been a while since we spent the whole summer home.”

“Yeah, but that was before all of this. Why do you think I’ve never come back, all these years? I don’t wanna see Jimin showing off his fucking fiancée right in front of my face. My mother’s face. God. It’s gonna be sickening.”

“Huh.”

“Besides,” you begin, hurriedly, “Everybody we know is gonna be there—Lisa, Chaeyoung, Jaehwan… do I need to go on? Shit, Tae. You think anyone else knows?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Shit. I don’t know why I agreed to this. Maybe I can still do something about it. A ticket refund?”

“You so do not want a ticket refund.”

“Hello, idiot? Have you not heard me? Which part of—”

“Shit, Jungkook has abs.”

A pregnant pause. You eye the lukewarm soda on your side.

“I’m—come again, please?”

“Since when he has Instagram? And a whole sleeve tattoo?”

[snaurus]

PROMPTS: gladnoctweek - cuddly gladdy

Pairings: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum Ratings: K+ Categories: Angst Warnings: Spoilers for the Omen Trailer & Chapter 10: The Heart of a King

Noctis is visited by a nightmare that isn’t a nightmare, if matters don’t change course soon. He’s seen it all happen before. 

My friends, at long last the time I’ve anxiously been waiting for is upon us: @gladnoctweek has officially started and for Day One: Cuddly Gladdy I bring you...sadness, hah hah. But there’s a very happy ending, I assure you! After all, Gladio’s arms are big enough to carry his sword, his shield, and his prince to a better state of mind. So it must be so. :’)

I recommend readers being familiar with the Omen Trailer and having played past Chapter 10 (aka: That Lover’s Tiff of cosmic proportions) to fully enjoy the scope of the story. I know everyone, including myself, has already addressed this part of the narrative before, but it’s my personal life mission to expand or altogether fix it in every conceivable way possible. I’m not the only one who feels that way, right? Multiple attempts should be encouraged and welcome?? 

Beta read by @glyphenthusiast, for whom this story (and pretty much all the stories I was able to cram before the deadline) owes its beautification to. Their support and dedication means so much to me, so thanks to them for being my guide!

Noctis drifts by himself, but he isn't alone. Insomnia is laden with Niflheim soldiers. They fill the streets, the subway platform, the train – crowding the area to the point he knocks shoulders with them in his attempts to get by.

He starts running.

Gunfire explodes everywhere around him. Machines and armored men alike give chase. The environment blurs and shifts. The city turns to a Niflheim military base to a desert – though he's never been to one – and tilts as he falls through the world

to awaken on a cot. Gasping, sweating, hands fisted in the sheets, Noctis bolted upright in bed. The total darkness of the room threatened to choke him. It's pitch blackness was confining except for the periodic flashes of street lamps outside the single window. There shouldn't be any light, the night all-encompassing.

That difference, the reality of it all, should have relieved Noctis of his nightmare. He did realize he'd had a nightmare and it was over; he'd experienced that exact one several times in the past. But he hadn't been on a train heading to the center of Niflheim during those previous episodes. The transport's rumbling along the tracks mirrored Noctis' dreamscape too well to alleviate his heart racing.

Noctis shoved the covers aside and stumbled out of bed. Sans shoes and jacket, he darted from the private compartment and into the hallway. In his recklessness, his shoulder bounced off the wall as he rammed into it.

There were only two directions to take and he blindly chose one, using the momentum from his crashing into the wall to go right. At this late hour the sleeping car was empty, which allowed him to race through unimpeded. Noctis fled his personal daemons until he came to a dead end.

He staggered into the Regalia, his palms held out in front of him. Noctis caught himself from falling flat across the hood and saved his face from ramming into its wide expanse. The cool, familiar texture of the metal shocked him from his stupor. He hovered there, breathing heavy and watching his hazy reflection.

When he’d calmed, Noctis straightened in place and took in the sight of the storage hold. Nobody was here, either – just him and his father's vehicle. His legs were unsteady; he used the side of the car as a guide to drag himself to the rear passenger door. Fumbling with the handle, he eventually manhandled it open and collapsed inside.

Noctis closed his eyes and rested both hands on his face, letting himself simply be. The smell of the leather interior, the sensation of the seat cushions underneath him, the shade from the retractable top – all of it screamed 'safe'. So why couldn't he relax?

He'd always possessed a sort of reverence for his dad's car. Most of his childhood had been spent in this very spot, going between important meetings, visiting dignitaries, or attending political functions. In some respects, whenever him and his father traveled it was the most personal time they'd ever spent alone together.

Despite how expert a job Cindy did detailing the Regalia, Noctis swore he still detected hints of his father's cologne. It was as if a part of him remained with Noctis. The lack of comfort that fact brought him was distressing. He'd rushed here, even unconsciously, to seek solace and it wasn't working like any of the instances before.

There came footsteps. Noctis hadn't heard the approach until they were nearly upon him. He dragged his hands down his face and dropped them in his lap, but didn't turn to acknowledge anyone.

Gladiolus opened the opposite set of doors and bent over, ducking his head in. The length of his arm braced against the metal exterior while his opposite hand gripped the doorframe. Of course it was him. Noctis had bolted like a bat out of hell, so it was no wonder that their lightest sleeper had heard his escape. It was peculiar that the others hadn't been disturbed – or they might have, and Gladiolus had requested to check up on him alone. Noctis was unsure which he'd prefer.

"There room for one more?" Gladiolus asked.

He shrugged, as good an invitation as he was willing to give. It was good enough for Gladiolus, anyway, the other man accepting the offer to join him in the backseat. There was a gap between them, Gladiolus keeping to his side and Noctis staying on his.

It didn't used to be like this.

From an early age, Noctis had learned Gladiolus was a really tactile person. The slaps on the back and high-fives were just a small portion of the touches he'd freely give. He figured being an Amicitia had something to do with it. Iris loved hanging onto Noctis' arm and when Noctis was a child Clarus had even patted him on the head once in greeting.

That wasn't the extent of it, though. Once they started traveling together Gladiolus got more intense. Noctis had protested, often loudly, about the treatment. He'd brush off Gladiolus' playful shoves or the ruffling of his hair in their lighter moments. Complaints about Gladiolus' close proximity in the tent or how absurdly long his legs were as Gladiolus' boots knocked against his in the Regalia were frequent.

All of it stopped after Altissia.

And Noctis felt emptier for it.

This distance was so much worse, so much more, than them losing the understanding they'd developed growing up. They didn't need words to communicate, when a simple glance or nod of the head was sufficient to convey their meaning. Now neither of them could interact, much less speak, to one another without it dissolving into fits. After the near-failure in retrieving his ancestor's katana they'd agreed to work through their differences, but where to start? The divide seemed insurmountable.

Gladiolus cleared his throat. "Bad dream, I take it?"

"Yeah. A 'bad dream'." Noctis' face contorted from some kind of emotion he couldn't identify. He didn't know the source of his irritation (or if it was even directed at Gladiolus), much less how to deal with it. "The same one I've had since Lestallum and all the fucking time."

Which wasn't entirely true. Only certain parts of the nightmare stuck with him after waking. The worst of it had been prior to confronting Titan, which is when the night terror first occurred, and since then only sporadically.

It tended to transpire whenever Noctis was stressed, such as the night before Gladiolus left to undertake his family's trials or…before Luna's sacrifice. Such a pattern couldn't be coincidence, so whenever the nightmare made a resurgence Noctis had taken it as the ill-omen it might be intended. Stranger things had happened in his life.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Gladiolus' jaw working, like he was grinding his teeth. Probably irritated over another subject that Noctis had denied making him privy to, but why would he have? Discussing personal interests or private matters often ended up embarrassing for the both of them. Still, Noctis anticipated an explosion or Gladiolus to leave.

Noctis wouldn't hold it against him in either case. He was surprised Gladiolus' patience had lasted as long as it had, that the man had settled on voicing his every grievance or sitting on the outskirts of their camp in the Fodina Caestino Mine instead of…he didn't know what. Returning to Lucis to rejoin the Crownsguard or facing Niflheim by himself, maybe. Someone of Gladiolus' stature and aptitude wasn't without options, a dark part of Noctis often reminded him.

To his surprise, Gladiolus asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Snippets of having to confront armies, of bleeding and hurting without the support of his friends or family, had Noctis snuffling. He rubbed irritably under an eye to cover the slight, but he thankfully found the last vestiges of sweat from his night terror and not any wetness from tears. His hand shook during the process, so he returned it to his lap.

"I just want them to stop." Noctis meant for the words to come out sharp and cut the conversation off, but to his own ears he sounded like a scared, defenseless child. Once again, he made himself a fool in front of Gladiolus at the worst of times.

"Then tell me. It might help," Gladiolus persisted. He reached out a hand, hesitating, and opted to loop his arm around Noctis' headrest so as to ease closer without making contact. The gesture was most likely borne of thoughtfulness, but Noctis was only left feeling hollow.

"How? It's just a stupid nightmare, I already know that! It can't hurt me."

"Because—" Gladiolus started, his tone terse until he forcefully gathered his composure, "because I want my friend back."

Noctis' shoulders went taut, his gaze kept forward. He couldn't bring himself to ask for clarification and risk shattering the moment. But he was listening, hoping—

"I miss the guy who came back for his training, all those years ago. Who hasn't let himself get knocked down and stayed down since then." Gladiolus ran his tongue along his bottom lip before resolving to continue, Noctis gradually starting to incline his head to look up at him. "The same guy who always made time for my bratty little sister and anyone else that's needed his help, no matter their situation. His people, our friends…I need him.

"If confiding in me can bring him back, then I'm here. Anytime, anywhere."

"And if he's gone?"

Noctis didn't realize he was clenching his hands over his knees, the knuckles bone white, until Gladiolus' reached over to grab one. He pried it off his pant leg and let Noctis clench his palm in a death grip, instead. His skin was dry and hot, but the pressure was steady.

Gladiolus let out a soft hum, it sounding like Noctis' name, before he said, "Not gone – lost, maybe. His sense of direction is kind of shitty. But I have it on good authority that I'm the best tracker there is, so I'll guide him home. If he lets me."

Their problem, Noctis concluded in that moment, was twofold.

Part of it were his own actions. Gladiolus had respected Noctis' space during his time of mourning, but Noctis was never very good at processing situations. Without the other man's guidance he'd receded deeper inside himself. Noctis festered, considering himself finally broken. The way Gladiolus looked at him right now, however, didn't resemble pity or sympathy.

But they'd both been stubborn, neither willing to bend. Noctis had wanted to stay distant, once he was huddled and hiding inside himself, lest his weakness infringe on his friends. Gladiolus had wanted Noctis to be something, someone, that he wasn't. They'd come to that conclusion a little late, with Noctis a tad slower than Gladiolus on the uptake, apparently. The epiphany came in the face of what Gladiolus was offering him: his way out.

Gladiolus had met him halfway, and Noctis needed to do the same.

Noctis' concession came in the form of scooting closer to him on the seat. The motion was all the prompting Gladiolus needed to swoop in and envelope him in a hug. Greedily, Noctis took in everything he'd been denied – the body heat and solid weight of him. While Gladiolus nuzzled the top of his head, adjusting Noctis under his chin, it occurred to him that he'd never comprehended just how much he'd depended on Gladiolus to initiate these moments. The idea of going back to a life without it terrified him.

With that in mind, Noctis haltingly admitted as much. His explanations were stunted, and without practice these kinds of exchanges may never become easier, but Gladiolus had bared his soul to him. Noctis wanted to return the favor. Cuddled against Gladiolus' side, with the other man’s fingers carding through the shorter hairs at the base of Noctis' neck, he opened up to him and told Gladiolus everything.

And for the first time in a long while Noctis felt ready to face tomorrow.