#he always has like a pebble or something in his pocket to play with

[bxrningdragxn]

I feel like Steven’s the type to fidget with stuff

Like he always has a pen or a little rock to fidget with

If he doesn’t have anything he’ll just fidget with the rings on his fingers

[hanasnx]

Indy! What kinks do you think Bruce would have ?

bruce wayne's kinks.

MINORS DNI 18+

! ── bondage + gags: it's a classic. tying you up and taking control from you is a huge turn on for him. if you have his complete trust, which rare ever do, you'll be able to do the same to him. unfortunately, those pretty silken ropes end up getting worn through way too quick, so you've upgraded to chains so you can ride him like a stallion. however, your headboard creaks a little more each time. when a 200+ man of pure muscle yanks on wood it splinters.

! ── edging + overstimulation + dacryphilia

! ── exhibitionism: part of his bruce wayne persona means public displays of affection are required. however, he enjoys it. getting his hands all over you where anyone could see means he elicits that cute reaction out of you where you hit him and scold him all the while his teeth are on your neck and he's groping you through your dress. the thrill of removing just enough to make sure he can get inside you makes him rip his belt open with fervor, and he's always a fan of a quickie. it's a stress reliever.

! ── breathplay: he's calculative when it comes to breathplay, but more specifically he loves putting his hand around your throat.

! ── size: he's an avid supporter. he thinks it's hot when you get all sheepish being reminded of how big and strong he is. he's got a powerful body he works day and night for, the least you can do is appreciate its every inch.

! ── food play: ever since strippers jumped out of his birthday cake in his twenties covered in frosting and edible bits that he was allowed to lick off he's had a thing for food play. at one point you feel like he's eaten entire meals off of you, he's completely nondiscriminatory when it comes to what he can lick and mouth as long as it's on you. if he's on a cheat day, he lets a scoop of ice cream melt on your skin just so he can clean you himself and watch your poor nipples pebble from the cold.

! ── impact play: chronic ass-smacker, tit-smacker less so, face-smacker even less.

! ── old school panty snatcher: if you put a pair of your used panties in his suit pocket before he goes to work he will play with it all day. stick his hand in there to meddle with the fabric between his fingers while he's talking to his board of directors with the presentation he's been preparing. he gets into the habit of inviting himself to your undergarments, and has been caught multiple times using one of your favorite pairs to jack himself off.

! ── bareback + creampies: condoms are fine he's not an idiot, but there's something about going in raw that draws him in. the extra edge of danger and the intimacy of touching the deepest parts of you bare.

! ── thigh riding: clasping your hands in his for balance while he watches you get off on his thigh. tells you it's like a personal show. he keeps those eyes trained on you with such an entertained grin it makes you whine in frustration, and that's hot too.

! ── threesomes/foursomes: he's done it all. having multiple partners is a testament to his endurance and he loves the praise, but since he's been official with you there is no room for that sort of thing and that's fine with him.

! ── light roleplay: you two have been known to throw the word "batman" around the bedroom.

! ── praise mostly very rarely a degrader

! ── daddy: as far as he's concerned, that's one of his names when it comes to you. in any context you call him that, he swells with pride. one time you visit him while he's in a meeting, not only did you turn every head in the room but when you called him "daddy" accidentally and out of pure habit, he didn't skip a beat. he glances at his companions with a knowing glint in his eye because they should be jealous that the girl they're gonna be thinking about for the rest of the day just called him daddy. he's got no shame about it.

[ghcstao3]

prompt from @juggalomary :

“A teenaged ghost who often shows up to places with bruises and cuts. Who is a regular visitor of the homeless shelter by the soccer pitch popular with the local grammar school boys. Soap who is a troubled student from the grammar school who plays keeper in soccer matches with his friends.

One day ghost missed the final call before they locked the shelter after a late night argument with his dad. He slept on bench for the home team at the pitch. Soap being soap was up at that ungodly hour playing soccer when he accidentally hit ghost with his water bottle.

Next thing they knew ghost will either throw rocks at soaps windows or just walk through the front door when he can’t sleep at home.”

-

Plink.

Johnny frowns, tearing his gaze away from his homework for a moment to wonder if he’d really just heard something. But when nothing happens for at least another minute or so following, Johnny resumes his work and chalks it up to his imagination.

Plink.

There, again. Johnny turns to the window where he’s sure the sound had come from, if it isn’t just in his head, and watches. Mindlessly twirls his pencil between his fingers and waits… for nothing. Another drawn out silence.

Plink.

Just as Johnny is making for his second dismissal, there’s a flash of grey bouncing off the glass that catches his eye. He slowly sets his pencil down and stands from his creaky desk chair before creeping toward the window.

There, on his lawn, with a bruised jaw and a toothy grin, is none other than Simon Riley.

Johnny hastily pulls his window open, leaning over the sill to whisper-shout, “Were you throwing rocks?”

“Maybe I was,” Simon whisper-shouts back. He less-than-discretely empties his hoodie pocket of an arsenal of pebbles now that he’s gotten Johnny’s attention. “You have room for one tonight?”

“Your dad kick you out?”

Simon shrugs a shoulder, grimacing. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Right, well—“ Johnny casts a quick glance back to his room, winces at the state of it, then decides Simon probably wouldn’t care, “—I’m sure my Ma won’t mind. Just wait there a sec.”

His Ma wouldn’t mind, sure, she loves Simon—but Johnny doesn’t imagine she’d be all too pleased to be disturbed at this hour, either, so he’s silent leaving his room to quietly greet Simon at the front door to let him in.

It’s the first time he’s ever come this late.

Johnny immediately shushes Simon once he’s ushered inside, though Simon has yet to say anything. He lets himself be led toward Johnny’s room without a word, dutifully following Johnny’s silent instruction to sit on the bed and wait while he retrieves the First Aid kit from the bathroom.

The bruise is worse, up close, though it’s old. Nothing Johnny can fix.

What he can fix, however, is the cut on Simon’s temple and the one through his bottom lip—all it requires is some gentle blotting of a cloth soaked with cold water to clean, and butterfly stitches on Simon’s head because it’s either that or Johnny’s wee sister’s princess bandaids to keep the wound covered.

Which, Simon jokes, would make him look too tough. But they both know the real reason he can’t use one.

When Johnny realizes he’s still leaning too far into Simon’s space, even now having finished tending to his cuts, he reels back before Simon can notice the blush that begins to bloom across his face.

Johnny hangs his head, picking at a loose thread on his pyjamas, doing his best to ignore the warmth burning from ear to ear.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” He mumbles.

He can feel Simon staring at him, something he always seems to be doing whether or not Johnny notices. Johnny continues picking at the string.

“Not really,” Simon says. “Can we sleep?”

Johnny nods, standing to push his desk chair back in place. He can hear Simon moving back on the bed, crawling underneath the covers like he’s now done so many times. Johnny clicks off his desk lamp and blindly wanders to the unoccupied side and gets into bed along with Simon.

They sleep back-to-back, always. And also like always, Johnny fights his exhaustion until he can be sure that Simon’s breathing has evened out; that he’s actually getting a proper rest.

Johnny knows he’ll have to deal with his Ma in the morning, but he doesn’t care. He just wishes it were easier for Simon to be safer like this every night, and not just the few he ends up staying here.

Johnny is still happy to provide any bit of help he can, though. God knows Simon needs the support.

Satisfied when he hears quiet snores escape Simon, Johnny, too, falls asleep.

[mountain-maiden]

Sweet Nothing

Summary: Joel comes home from patrol in need of comfort and reassurance.

WC: 2.7k

TW: 18+ MDNI, Oral (m receiving), men whimpering, religious imagery, Taylor Swift references, author went to catholic school during formative years, author has never enjoyed giving head and didn't know how to write it :/

This is the first fanfic I've ever posted so please be nice to me!!

The snow crunches beneath Joel’s boots, yielding to the solid weight of a man on his way home. Moonlight filters in through the clouds, guiding him to your shared abode as the rest of Jackson sleeps soundly. It had been a extra long patrol, his late return made even more devastating by the knowledge you had most likely made dinner for two and eaten alone. 

His hand warms a pebble in his pocket, your pebble really. You had picked it for him during a patrol together last July, claiming the warm brown of the rock matched the honeyed irises of his eyes. He remembers how he scoffed at the notion but here he was months later, clutching the small stone for some semblance of comfort. You had rediscovered it a couple months ago, borrowing his jacket and marveling at the tiny stone that had made it all this way, stowing away in his pocket. 

“Does it ever miss the river sometimes?” You had asked, a small smirk playing on your lips as you slipped it back into his coat. He’d been found out, yet he had never really minded your small discoveries. 

He could never simply lay back and bare his soul to you, but with each calloused layer you peeled away, Joel found himself eager for you to reach his core. To peer into the depths of his soul and deem him still worthy of your love. He didn’t expect God to forgive the sins he’d committed, had stopped praying for that long ago. But at the altar of your hips, he’d get on his knees and beg for absolution until he dissolved into the dust he knelt on. Joel didn’t believe in much these days, but he believed in you with an intensity that could rival the most devout priests of the days of before. 

Finally, he is bathed in the warm light of your home, bleeding through the blinds and blanketing the snow covered path to your front porch, beckoning him inside. Joel opens the door and immediately all the tension he had been carrying begins to dissipate. The warmth of your home melts the frost from his bones as he kicks off his mud coated boots, discards his soaked through socks, and hangs his threadbare coat, eager to see your face. 

He find you in the kitchen, humming a tune he remembers from right before the outbreak, something Sarah had made him listen to, probably that Taylor Swift she was always going on about. Your whirl around when you sense his presence, eyes lighting up as you realize it’s Joel standing in your kitchen.

“I like that song,” He smiles, walking forward to embrace you, “Sarah used to listen to it a lot.”

“She had good taste,” You loop your arms around his neck, pulling him in, “Never would have taken Joel Miller for a swiftie.”

He can feel you chuckle at your own joke, but he feels no need to defend himself. Instead he focuses on the feeling of your body as he holds you against him, as tight as he can without fear of hurting you. It’s a ridiculous notion, but Joel finds himself hoping if he presses himself to you just right, he can meld your two beings so he’ll never have to be without again. It’s a selfish thought, you have a life outside of him, which is why he doesn’t voice it, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

Eventually you pull away to inspect his face for any sign of injury, but all you find is Joel doing the same to you. It’s almost comical how the man will be on patrol in the dangers of the wilderness for days and still worry for your health while you lounge in the safety of Jackson’s walls.  

“I missed you,” Joel whispers, and he means it with the entirety of his being. The words incapable of expressing how devastatingly incomplete he felt without the melody of your laughter accompanying his meals, the bite of your scolding when he was reckless, the warmth of your body pressed against him at night.`

“I missed you too,” you smile, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair, smoothing out the greying strands that had become tousled by the wind during his journey home.

“I saved you food,” you gesture to a closed tupperware sitting on the counter, “Do you want to shower while I reheat it for you?”

“I- Um, would ya mind joinin’ me?” Joel asks, suddenly feeling shy as if he’d just asked for your hand in marriage instead of company in the shower. 

“Not at all,” you take his hand and walk to the bathroom, unable to hold back a small grin at the knowledge Joel craved your closeness just as much as you craved his. 

You enter the small room and sit Joel on the closed toilet while you fuss over the water temperature. When you deem the water an acceptable heat, your attention returns to Joel’s seated form. You reach for the bottom of Joel’s shirt and he begins to protest. 

“I don’t need yer help takin’ my goddamn shirt off,” He huffs, no real heat to his words as he lifts his arms to aid your efforts. 

“Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean you don’t want it,” you tease, “it’s okay Joel, we both know you’re a big softie in disguise.”

He grumbles some form of an argument but makes no real effort to convince you. Instead he quickly becomes distracted as you kneel to unbutton his jeans, belt already discarded on the floor beside you. You pull his jeans to the floor and look up to meet his heated gaze, a small smirk playing on your lips. He holds back a groan as you peel off his boxers, removing the last barrier between him and your mouth, and watches in dismay as you stand up.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later Miller, now get in the shower,” you instruct before beginning to remove your own layers. 

Joel shakes his head and laughs as he steps into the warm stream of the shower. He lets his head hang as he feels the water cascade down his back, removing the days of sweat and grime from his skin. You pull back the curtain and step in to join him, immediately reaching out to loop your arms around his neck. 

“Hey Darlin’” Joel gives you a lopsided smile, letting you know he was finally starting to relax. 

“Hi baby,” you giggle, “Come here often?”

You watch in delight as he chuckles and pretends to pull away, “Didn’t realize I invited a dork into my shower,” Joel snorts.

“Oh please, you knew full well you were inviting a dork into your shower,” you laugh, reaching up to tip his head back and let the water run through his hair. 

“And, I actually prefer the term comedian,” you continue, stepping behind him to reach the shampoo and conditioner. 

“Comedian my ass,” you hear Joel mutter as you pour the shampoo into your hands.

The steam from the shower envelopes the both of you as Joel stands beneath the warm water. Your fingers tracing slow circles against his scalp, melting away his tension. It wasn't just the physical weariness from the patrol; it was the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders, the burden of surviving in a harsh post-apocalyptic reality. And, as your fingers worked through his hair, you could sense the tough facade he tried to hard to maintain slipping away.

"Joel," you whisper, your voice a soft caress, "you don't have to do it all alone. You have me." 

He sighs in a mixture of relief and vulnerability, his guard down in the sanctuary of your embrace. 

"You've been taking on Tommy's patrols, fixing everyone’s houses, looking after Ellie," you continue, tilting his head back to rinse the soap from him hair, "but you can't save everyone." 

His response is a low murmur, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily silenced by the soothing rhythm of your touch. 

"I can't just watch. People rely on me," Joel croaks, his voice raw with the admission of his own limitations. How could he explain his selfish motives, how it wasn’t about helping them, but saving his soul? How could he explain the weight of his past, how little time he had to redeem himself, how little time he had to become someone worthy of your love?

"And who do you rely on?" You ask, hands reaching around to his front, tracing patterns on his abdomen. "You don't need repent for surviving, Joel."

Finally, he turns to face you and you press a soft kiss to his mouth, relishing in the restrained groan he lets out. You pull away to find his eyes glazed over in lust, gaze fixed on your lips. Apparently you take too long to reconnect the kiss, because suddenly Joel is surging forward, capturing your mouth in a desperate kiss. 

He kisses you like a man starved, teeth colliding, tongue demanding entrance to your mouth, pressing your back to the cool tile of the shower wall. Fitting his thigh between your legs, you can feel his length hardening against your hip while you grind on his thigh, letting out a soft moan at the feeling. 

“‘Atta girl, so good for me.” He murmers, words spurring you on as you let out small whimpers of frustration, the angle just off, or the pressure not quite right. Joel shifts to get to his knees desperate to taste you, but halts when you grab his arm, tugging him back up. 

“Just, let me,” you sink to your knees, Joel’s broad shoulders shielding you from the spray. You press light kisses to his hips and he can’t stifle the soft whimpers that escape while you continue to tease him, lips brushing everywhere except the place he needs you most.

“Fuck baby, Ple-” He chokes on his words when you suddenly take as much of him as you can into your mouth at once. His eyes rolling back as he fights to keep his hips from thrusting forward. 

His fingers find purchase in your hair, not to guide you but to ground himself as you send him to what he imagines is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. A sinner such as himself is never going to see those pearly gates, but in the tight heat of your mouth he can’t find it in himself to regret any of the sins that paved his path to you, his own personal salvation.

You continue to take more of him with each pass, using your hands to make up for the length you can’t fit, encouraged by Joel’s mixture of soft gasps and choked moans. 

  “Fuck baby, I’m not gonna last long” He warns. 

Joel's words only motivate you further, bracing yourself with his thighs, relaxing your throat and taking him deeper into your mouth. He can feel himself hurtling towards the edge with each passing movement, his hips bucking involuntarily against your ministrations. 

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart, so perfect for me,” endless praise spills from his mouth as he feels his climax approach, knowing he can’t last much longer. 

“Gonna swallow for me, pretty girl?” He knows you can’t answer, he also knows the answer is already yes. 

He feels the familiar pooling of warmth in his gut and all the warning you get is a drawn out groan before he’s spilling into your mouth. Joel towers over you panting, bracing himself against the tile of the shower wall as he recovers from the waves of pleasure still crashing over him. 

“So fucking good to me,” Joel murmers, reaching down to help you off the slippery floor of the shower.

“Not doing anything you don’t deserve,” you give him a quick peck before turning the water off, having used beyond an indulgent amount. 

You make to step out of the tub but Joel pulls you back in for a searing kiss, battling his irrational fear that the second you leave the shower, he’ll discover you were just a figment of his imagination. An angel bestowing a temporary blessing on a man built more of sin than flesh. 

When he pulls away, you leave to fetch a pair of towels and return to dry him off. Joel is ashamed of how underneath your attentive care he allows himself to feel loved, how your patient hands wipe away not just the droplets of water but also the misdeeds of his past, leaving behind a glowing trail of love. He knows he doesn’t deserve any of this, but he’s taken plenty of things that didn’t belong to him in the time before you met, and he figures your affections for the man you believe him to be, a good man, can be his one last stolen good, his perfect crime. 

“I love you,” you run your fingers along the broad expanse of his shoulders, before cupping his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. 

“I love you too,” Joel whispers, allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your shared room, forgoing clothes and crawling into bed. 

“Can I return the favor?” Joel asks, beginning to position himself further down the bed before you grab his arm and pull him back up. 

“We’re both tired Joel, you’ve been awake for days, lets just sleep. Yeah?”

“You’re too good for me baby,” Joel brushes a stray hair from your face, “I’m hopin’ you won’t figure that out for a long time though.”

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes at the man above you, “one day I’m going to get it through your thick skull that you are a good man, Joel Miller.”

“My skull ain’t that thick, you wound me Darlin’” Joel clutches his heart dramatically before draping himself over you, resting his head on the soft cushion of your chest.

“Aw baby, it’s not a bad thing, a skull that thick has made you real hard to kill,” you chuckle, softly tapping at his head in jest. He lazily swats at your hand before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling himself closer to you. 

Minutes pass in silence, you assume he’s fallen asleep and are about to reach for your book, when you hear the soft rasp of Joel’s half asleep voice.

“Sometime’s I think the end might be comin’,” He murmurs, burrowing his face in the valley of your breasts, determined to mold his body to yours, “Everyone’s up to somethin’.”

You frown at his sleep-muddled words, clearly not meant to be voiced, and stroke his hair, “Yeah, there’s been a lot of push and shoving.” 

You wait for a response and when a few moments pass in silence, you grab your book and begin to read, hoping the rustling of pages isn’t enough to wake Joel. You get lost in the story and hours pass before you are closing the book and turning off the lamp, preparing to sleep. You have to resettle into the pillows and the movement causes a disruption in Joel’s slumber, a quiet groan leaving him as he attempts to get closer again.

“I might be too soft for all of it,” He murmurs, pulling you into him so he can hear your heartbeat as he drifts off. In his sleep addled state, Joel had confessed his greatest sin. The softness you cultivated within him, intertwined with the fear that perhaps he was already too late for redemption. He could carry the weight of regret every day, but it was growing hard to ignore the feeling of futility when faced with trying to mend a lifetime of mistakes in the few years he has left. Why endure the struggle for redemption when he could find heaven in the warmth of your embrace? A sinner too complacent to repent. 

In the delicate balance of vulnerability and resignation, he clings to you, his sanctuary in the face of an irredeemable past. In your arms, Joel finds reprieve from the crushing guilt, thoughts consumed by the comforting rhythm of your heartbeat. God might demand repentance for entrance to heaven, but all you’d ever asked of him was sweet nothing.

[silvergreenseraphim]

The First Soldier: Chapter Six

Japanese highlights + analysis

Hi guys! Okay, let’s look right into this chapter-

Opening with Team Glenn, we learn some small details. The Shinra dig will start soon, and Glenn marvels at how fast everything is moving. Matt credits Shinra power, Glenn credits their hard work as a team, and Lucia credits Sephiroth, who did most of the work. Glenn, being more humble now, admits that he cannot deny it, and remembers that he must tell Sephiroth about the payment.

However, he notes that Sephiroth does not seem interested in money. This is one of the first hints throughout this chapter that Team Glenn still do not fully understand what Sephiroth is to Shinra. It is a subtle but reoccurring pattern, particularly when the notion of “being fired” comes into play later on.

The English in this scene was good. No major changes.

The chief engineer calls the team over and reprimands them for being too relaxed, saying that they need to do their jobs and clear out the monsters near the living quarters. Glenn awkwardly agrees to get back to patrolling, but first he asks,

“Hey, have you seen our squad leader?”

The engineer responds,

“If you mean that kid, isn’t he still out looking through the bodies? It’s disgusting. Please make him stop.“

Glenn is surprised and says, “Sephiroth is rummaging through the corpses?”

Matt notes that Sephiroth does often disappear/go off on his own, and Lucia says to look for him on their patrol.

(Seeing how the other Shinra employees behave and speak helped me see why Sephiroth had no luck asking around about his mother. They are only there to do their jobs, and don’t understand the child SOLDIER at all. It is very much an indifferent workforce).

Next is the scene where we learn about the materia fragments that were shattered over time. This scene adds greater weight to the mako spring discussion in the Nibelheim flashback, where Sephiroth comments that the condensed formation must have taken ages. It takes a very long time for even small bits to form, and even then they can shatter.

There is the silly bit of banter between the team about using diversion pebbles/materia fragments, but I must note again that Glenn seems calmer and less cocky even in his jesting.

Then Lucia becomes visibly concerned and says,

“Looking through corpses…I wonder if he’s really doing that…”

Glenn responds,

“The chief engineer is just joking around right? There’s no way he (Sephiroth) would do something like that.”

Matt agrees that there would be no need for it, and the team moves forward.

(It is very wholesome to see them believe only the best of Sephiroth despite what others think, and they are more perceptive and accurate about him anyway. This story constantly leads the audience to worry that Sephiroth always held darker traits before immediately disproving these concerns or at least showing that his reasons were always understandable. Team Glenn speaks for the more optimistic viewers at this point).

Of course little Sephiroth is caught undeniably searching a body, and Glenn questions him in surprise. Sephiroth is confused at first, but then acknowledges that it does look wrong. Lucia asks him if he is looking for something. Sephiroth says,

“I lost the pendant with my mother's photo in it.. . . . . .I was looking for it. I was checking to see if someone might have picked it up and had it on them…”

(So, a small translation nuance; it is clear in Japanese that Sephiroth dropped it and believed that someone could have picked it up. He is not just looking under bodies, he is going through their pockets and all to see if anyone has it with them.)

Sephiroth chuckles and admits,

“Haha, I suppose I am a corpse-scavenger…“

(This is another case of Sephiroth’s childlike innocence mingling with his very dark reality. He lost his most precious possession like a normal child would, but now has to search for it among the dead that he himself laid to waste).

When the others understand, Glenn says,

“Alright, let’s look for it while we kill monsters.”

And Sephiroth replies,

“Thank you very much…that helps…“

The team moves on to kill monsters and search.

Glenn notes the lesser number of bodies and Sephiroth points out that it was because of the monsters. Glenn shudders to think of dying in the area, but Sephiroth takes the opportunity to beseech them to not let their guard down. He says,

“You all seem to be feeling a little relaxed. You can never be too careful. You must protect yourself. If you don't apply this basic rule...”

Right then a monster swoops in and Sephiroth kills it, stunning the others. He concludes with, “…then even I can’t protect you.”

Glenn asks, “So, you’re protecting us?”

Sephiroth walks up to him and responds,

“It’s because you’re my team.”

They are interrupted by more monsters, but when the fighting ends, Matt repeats what Sephiroth said.

“I’ll protect you because you’re my team…”

Matt glares at Glenn and says,

“I’d like to hear that from a team-leader I know who previously threatened to hit one of his own squad members…”

Lucia chimes in with the comment about that same team-leader making them be near his gross socks.

(They are both referencing the first chapter of the game, where Glenn’s outburst on the helicopter made it appear as though he were going to punch Matt, and when Glenn made a joke about his socks being so bad that they would pull Lucia out of shell-shock).

Sephiroth looks up at Glenn while shaking his head and laughs, saying,

“Ha…that’s the worst.”

Glenn remarks,

“But it’s “memorable,” isn’t it?”

Sephiroth thinks for a moment and says,

“Yes, I see. So, that team-leader fears being forgotten…”

This observation strikes Matt and even Glenn. They appear to rethink Glenn’s leadership style. Glenn does not protest the observation, but he ponders it.

(I found it sweet that Sephiroth did not judge Glenn, but pointed out what is likely a true insecurity of Glenn’s, but in a very mild and childlike way. Part of me even wonders if Sephiroth understood the fear because he too had struggled with it. After all, adult Sephiroth refused to be a memory even post-insanity.)

(Also, it is hard to fully explain, but reading this text in Japanese—it becomes easier to see how it is not just Glenn that influences Sephiroth, but also the other way around. It’s strange but…it feels as though Glenn has become…softer? Even when alone with his team, he is not disrespecting them so much or being so brash. It was his meeting with Rosen that helped him to develop sympathy for the “enemy” and it was Sephiroth that helped Glenn become kinder to his team. Even the way he speaks seems gentler. 

In the last chapter, Glenn was so harsh towards Seph at the beginning, but learned remorse and how to apologize when Sephiroth’s vulnerability was showcased. In this chapter, Sephiroth is the one to understand that Glenn might have been such a brash leader because he feared being forgotten, which was a very perceptive and empathetic observation, causing even Matt to reconsider. It was a very heart-warming scene). 

(The next sequence is devastating and I believe it caused some minor controversy with fans because of how Glenn speaks, but I can affirm that the tone in Japanese seems to aim for sympathetic character development. As I mentioned before, Glenn is different to the character we first met, and his arc is becoming more clear as we move forward.)

As the squad looks through the bodies, Glenn notices that there were not many Rhadoran remnants left, and Matt suspects it was because of their living conditions and the endless battle with monsters. Glenn remarks that it must have been a hard lifestyle. He then says,

“...I don't really understand why Rhadore hated the Mako reactors…I mean, there's no such thing as convenient (as the reactors), right?”

They are swiftly interrupted again by monsters, causing Sephiroth to say that they seem more interested than usual.

“The monsters seem more interested than usual.”

“They’re excited about live bait!” Glenn says.

“If you want to be bait, I won't stop you, but as a SOLDIER, please fight first.” Sephiroth urges.

When they clear out the area again, Matt considers the similarities between the Rhadoran believes and “Planetology” or the “study of the star.”

“When a person dies, their life returns to the planet with their consciousness and heart and intersects with the energy of life circulating around the planet. The idea is that a new life will eventually be born from it. The life around this planet is what they call “qi” (mana). The “qi” going around the planet enriches people and nature and the planet itself. It would be unthinkable for Rhadore to consume such an irreplaceable energy.”

Glenn is still confused, and then Sephiroth interjects with,

“Dr. Hojo talked to me about this…

“No matter how rationally and logically we explain things, there are people we will not be able to share understanding with. That is because they see the world differently.””

Glenn argues that such things won’t matter if someone dies, and that it would just be better to accept an easy life instead of fighting so hard against it. He points out that Rosen is the only one left, and says that if the Rhadoran beliefs are true, what will become of the last Rhadoran boy when he dies? When he is gone, no one will be left, and people will forget Rhadore.

Sephiroth sadly shakes his head and turns away, saying that,

“The planet remembers…I am certain that is what the people of Rhadore believe…”

Glenn receives his epiphany, and understands that the Rhadorans resisted the consumption of mana/mako because it would erase all memories of life. He is suddenly overcome with sadness and turns to kneel and honor the fallen soldiers. The others do the same.

(This scene was, in my opinion, intended to deliver a strong message, but was maybe limited by the story-telling style. Some people were shocked by Glenn’s questioning why the Rhadorans all died for their beliefs when he is with the very company that wiped them out. But I think it does help to remember that this war between Shinra and Wutai was something that soldiers like Glenn and his team only had seen one side of until this point. They were a survey team working for money after all, not the ones directly sent to kill the Rhadorans until Sephiroth arrived, who did most of the work anyway, and even shocked the others with his conditioned ruthlessness in the previous chapter.

Shinra is a propaganda monster, and undoubtedly played off the war as something the Wutaians started and were responsible for, as well as the Rhadorans. It does sound like Glenn is genuinely confused here, especially as someone who was probably used to Shinra being the default government for everything.

“Why would these people willingly die and fight Shinra for trying to make their lives easier?”

But that is the simple darkness of imperialism. Shinra was going to erase something very important to the Rhadorans for the sake of “convenience.”

Glenn only sees this after Sephiroth himself acknowledges the Rhadoran faith. This is where a change of heart occurs. The Rhadorans were fighting for a genuine reason. Of course they were.

I actually felt this was a very meaningful sequence after translating it. Very good attempt at addressing imperialist destruction.)

Afterwards, they keep up the search and Matt asks if Sephiroth is sure he dropped the necklace in the building they are in. He says he had it before the ruins, so he is sure it must have been in the building. Lucia explains that it might be difficult to find if they haven’t already. Sephiroth tiredly shakes his head and says,

“It’s okay. Thanks to everyone for looking together, I think I’m about ready to give it up.”

He is saying that since everyone looked at the same time, he is ready to accept that he has to let the photo go. If they can’t find it together, then it is truly lost. The others become downcast on his behalf, and then Glenn moves over to one of the dead soldiers. He suggests they bury them as a way to say sorry, though he is not sure if that is their custom. Either way, Sephiroth immediately says that he will help, and Glenn is grateful.

The next scene was clearly translated into English. As they bury the bodies, the dig begins and Sephiroth explains that they will need to evacuate to the sky in thirty minutes, thanks to a possible mako eruption or “torrent of qi” caused by Shinra’s explosives. Glenn remembers Rosen’s words, and Sephiroth says they need to hurry.

The following sequence is endearing as Sephiroth makes shortcuts for the team. He reveals a unique power that allows him to create great bursts of energy from simple materia fragments. The others are stunned. Glenn, in particular, cannot believe it even after Sephiroth explains. He says,

“No, it’s impossible! Sephiroth, you’re amazing!!”

In the next scene, Glenn is initially ready to chop down a tree to form a bridge across a river, but Sephiroth steps in and says his way will be quicker. Where before, Glenn would have been eager to lead the way, he kindly steps aside and lets Sephiroth take over. Glenn is once again verbally supportive, and says,

“Ha! As expected.”

Sephiroth says,

“As expected of a modified human (cyborg), right?”

Glenn says wasn’t going to say that, nor was he thinking it. Sephiroth says,

“Really?….I’m a little disappointed…”

Glenn is confused and Sephiroth shakes his head,

“I don’t really understand it myself…”

Bringing his head low and his hand to his heart again, he guesses,

“It’s just…nothing you guys say makes me feel bad, so I want you to be able to say anything…”

(The English got the point across as well, but Seph is sincerely saying that he trusts them because they don’t say things that hurt him, so he doesn’t want them to feel as if they need to hold back their thoughts. He is pointing out that he has grown to feel safe with them because they are not malicious with their words. It feels like he discovers the idea of trust in relationships right here).

Glenn perks up and says,

“Alright then, I’ll tell you what I think!! I’m counting on you, squad-leader! Now, let’s go!”

Sephiroth enthusiastically responds with “Yes!” and they move on.

The waterfall scene is largely the same. Glenn fully goes to Sephiroth to lead this time and hands him the materia fragment. He asks if Sephiroth can use it like before, and in Japanese, Sephiroth endearingly says he doesn’t want to “make things go boom” but that he has an idea. He freezes the waterfall and Glenn voices his praise again.

When they finally draw close, Glenn stops to think of Rosen, but Sephiroth urges him to hurry. When they get to the overlook, it becomes clear that Glenn and the others are struggling with remorse over the Rhadorans and Rosen being in danger. They exchange glances and Glenn almost says something to Sephiroth, but stops himself.

Sephiroth himself is far more concerned about them, his team, and their safety. The divide is obvious, and a choice will have to be made.

They arrive as the last ones to the Shinra helicopter and the engineer is ready for them to evacuate, but Glenn begs the man to delay the dig so that he can go and warn Rosen, thus setting his plans in motion without forewarning Sephiroth. The engineer refuses despite Glenn’s pleas and brings up the amount of money Shinra has put into the program. Glenn shouts,

“This isn’t about the money!”

And punches the engineer, much to Matt and Lucia’s exasperation.

The engineer says,

“I'll report you to headquarters! I can even have you fired.”

Glenn does not care. It is the first time we have seen him willingly dismiss money and fight for something else. He tells the engineer to get on the other helicopter, and Matt tells Lucia to make her decision. She apologizes to Sephiroth and hi-jacks the copter. Sephiroth simply turns his back quietly.

The final Stamp battle occurs afterwards as an interruption, and the team finishes the job, with more remorse from Glenn about messing with Stamp’s island. Then the engineer flies overhead and drops down the ladder, offering one more chance. Lucia says,

“Will Sephiroth also be disposed of?”

Matt reminds her,

“It’s okay, we’re the only ones at fault. There are witness too.”

With this, the team says goodbye to their leader, and Glenn tells him,

”Sephiroth, take care! Don’t overdo it/push yourself too much!”

They run off, leaving Sephiroth to evacuate, but he hesitates. The engineer shouts,

“Hurry up and get on, hero!”

But our hero can’t leave his friends just yet!

He runs up to them and Glenn is surprised. He says,

“You came…….are you sure? If you get on this helicopter, you could get fired, right?”

And the chapter ends with Sephiroth’s simple reply,

“I’m special.”

Glenn just laughs.

—

This appears to be a direct reference to Sephiroth’s future statement about always knowing he was special or different since he was a child.

The word is the same.

“Exceptional, unique, beyond ordinary…”

But this line from Sephiroth is actually more upsetting to me than funny or cocky, because yes, there is indeed a chance he is merely being proud about being able to get away with his current actions due to his status as Shinra’s hero, but…

There is also the chance he knows he cannot be fired or disposed of because Shinra would never let him leave. They have control over him. He is different or special in that sense too. He is a prized possession, unlike the others.

I have yet to see, but I wonder if Sephiroth knows that he is risking severe punishment for his actions by helping his team and will not be met with a simple lay-off, but since this is his last chance to help and be with his team, he is ready to pay the price. If they are fired, he may not see them again. Now is his chance.

His hesitation at the helicopter is sincere. He clasps at his heart and everything. I don’t believe he is being light-hearted when he tells Glenn he is different. In the English, it came off more prideful, as though Seph were daring Shinra to come after him. In Japanese, I get the feeling he is making a sacrifice. 

Sephiroth also believes it is his job to protect his team. If Shinra tries to harm them, he will have to face that. I fear that for now, Sephiroth has not learned that Shinra will not just punish him, but they can also kill people he considers friends.

I also think this chapter was full of foreshadowing.

Even the scenes with Glenn praising Sephiroth and making an effort to do it honestly and constantly felt as though it were meant to be a contrast for what could be shown later if the Shinra higher-ups appear and catch Sephiroth in the act of treason.

I am very proud of him, but I am very concerned for him now.

(I have more thoughts on Sephiroth’s relationship with Team Glenn after this chapter, but I will save it for another post! Hope you guys enjoy this one in the mean time!)

[adore-laur]

REWIND: PART TWO

——

The neon aquarium gravel is a direct portal to memories of Reese's childhood. 

Kaleidoscopic pebbles of blue, green, and orange sit idly on the bottom of her little brother's fish tank. They remind her of being a kid and how her sole responsibility at night was to feed her two goldfish she won in a ring toss game at the county fair. Sunset and Rocky were their names. 

She envies the weightless joy of youth that younger siblings feel. To be that innocent age again, the only worry being the thought of accidentally tipping the fish food container too much and dropping flakes of earthworm and vitamin confetti onto the useless pets. 

It didn't mean much until it meant everything. 

Reese, at twenty-two years old, is just a girl swimming around in the metaphorical fishbowl most days, even when it turned from a sphere into a rectangular prism over the years of her fleeting adolescence. When it was moved out of her room once she became an adult, she tried to catch and keep any wave of purpose in the water. It was to no avail, since the obvious point is that there's no waves in a fishbowl, only stagnant water that doesn't change unless someone makes an effort to. The handbook for navigating adulthood was never given to her, needless to say. Change happens everywhere around her, but she stands and waits in the middle, sticking to her comfort zone of antisocial tendencies. 

It used to be harmless until it wasn't. 

She currently stands in front of the glass, watching the glow-in-the-dark anemone swiftly move in the murky water. If she tries hard enough, she can pretend that she's underwater with the calico fish. She can hide herself in the soft limbs like in the beginning of Finding Nemo. It's quite simple to do with enough practice. It would take less than a minute to drown out the noise of her brother playing a video game and the TV turned up loud in the living room where her grandmother spends most of her time. 

It was fun until it became a habit. 

In the reflection, Reese can see her hair still braided and clipped up from the night before like a lunatic cartoon character. She always looks forward to waking up in the morning and undoing the twisted strands, letting the soft and subtle curls fall over her shoulders. She prefers her hair frizzy instead of straight, like how it is naturally. The volume hides her face better. 

The lighter stripes of her brown silk pajamas glow fluorescently from the decorative luminosity surrounding her. She should probably take her clips out and change into something nicer since it's already the afternoon. She should also listen to some music to give her brain a break. 

"Nuna, your phone is playing a pretty song." 

Pause. She can continue later. 

Her brother's voice sounds drowned out in the background, almost like she's actually underwater. Reese emerges above the surface and snaps out of her aquatic trance, shifting her gaze to see Rowan lifting one side of his headphones and giving her an impatient look. The melodic chime of her ringtone becomes clearer now that her ears aren't clogged with dissociative imagination. 

"Shit," she mutters under her breath, clumsily taking her phone out from her pocket. 

Skimming her eyes over the unknown number on the screen, she has a gut feeling she might know who it is. It's been two days without a call from the man named Harry she met in the grocery store. He had said he'd give her a call about a potential interview, so who else could it be? Granted, it could be someone calling the wrong number, or spam calls about her nonexistent student loans, but she's always been good at hanging onto false hope until the branch breaks. 

"Hello?" Reese quietly answers, sitting down on Rowan's space-themed bed sheets. 

"Hi, is this Reese?" A friendly voice crackles through. 

It's him. The warm, polite tone and British drawl are familiar, like a home-cooked meal on a dreary day in autumn. It brings color to her cheeks, the rare kind. A powerful blush of spiderwebs across her face weaved with volcanic vertigo of the heart. 

What is he doing to her? 

Reese wipes her sweaty palm on her bouncing leg. "Y-yes, this is she." 

"Hey!" he greets on the other line. "It's Harry. Sorry I couldn't call sooner. I've been quite busy with work, so I'll try and make this quick." 

Is this real? It feels like a distant dream. She feels like she's floating outside of her body right now. 

"It's okay," she says, leaving it at that. She clams up easily. 

There's shuffling on the other end and what sounds like a door softly closing. "So," he begins, "when are you available?" 

Reese gulps and picks at her nails. He's so casual about everything. "I'm free anytime," she replies, trying to match his easygoing tone. "Whatever fits your schedule." 

"How about tomorrow? Eight o'clock bright and early?" 

If there's one thing about Reese's social anxiety, it's that she needs more than a twenty-four-hour notice if she's going to participate in plans without being a nervous wreck. She supposes she can make an exception for Harry. 

"That works for me," she tells him with a ghost of a grimace. 

"Perfect, I'll see you then. If you could just bring a resume, that'd be wonderful." 

Rowan yells at the computer screen, and Reese throws a dirty sock at the back of his head. "No problem," she mentions distractedly. "Um, where are we meeting?" 

"My house, preferably," Harry says. "If you're comfortable with that, of course. It would just be convenient since I have work tomorrow and I also have Marlowe with me." 

She absentmindedly nods as her brother sticks his tongue out at her. "That sounds great." She then mouths a threatening "I'm gonna kill you" to Rowan. 

"I'll text you the address, yeah?" 

"Okay." 

She can hear him hum a tune and walk around. He must be getting something done or going somewhere. "How's your rutabaga, by the way?" he asks after a few seconds. "I saw it fall out of your bag when we were in the parking lot." 

Reese's face sets on fire. She utters a small, "You saw that?" 

Harry laughs, a beautiful and breathy sound that her phone doesn't do justice. "I did, yes." 

"Nice." She cradles her flaming cheek and pinches her eyes shut. "Well, the rutabaga turned out fine. It's in soup now." 

"Oh, yummy. You should bring some over." 

How is he so casual about everything? It's like he's asking her to bring an agreeable dish over for a goddamn Thanksgiving get-together. 

"I'm serious, by the way," he adds before she can manage to stutter out an answer. "Marlowe and I are suckers for soup. You don't have to, obviously. Completely up to you." 

Reese traces the stitching on the bed comforter. "Yeah, I can bring some. For sure." 

There's babbling in the background as Harry replies, "Great. Okay, I'll let you go now since Marlowe is two seconds away from screaming at me. See you tomorrow at eight, right?" 

"See you tomorrow.” 

"Goodbye, Reese." 

"Bye." 

Reese hangs up first and immediately throws her phone across the bed, then runs her damp palms over her flushed face. She despises phone calls, and now she has to do an in-person interview with a handsome man? She's done for. 

"Was that your boyfriend?" Rowan childishly snarks, his eyes still focused on a video game. 

"Shut up, dude." 

—— 

The apricot-colored doorbell lays under her thumb, ripe and ready to signal her arrival. If she presses it, there's no turning back. No resetting the clocks, no rewinding the tape, and no pausing to rethink her decision. 

Reese forgot to eat something before leaving, but she loses her appetite when she gets bad anxiety anyway. She arrived ten minutes early because of that exact anxiety settling horribly in her throat. There's no reason to be nervous, though, right? She'd met him before, he was kind, and he was nice enough to give her a chance. 

Dreadful pessimism isn't helping her case. She needs to think positively, even if she doesn't believe it. 

Remembering her grandmother's slightly offensive encouragement about how everyone her age already has a full-time job and that this should be a walk in the park, Reese presses the fateful doorbell and waits. She looks up at the grey sky and takes a deep breath, letting the warm thermos of soup in her shaky hands soothe her anxiety. She feels her heart kick like a drum, the pounding reaching all the way to her ears. 

The white turtleneck she wears is making her sweat profusely. The resume in her pocket that she typed up and printed at the last possible minute isn't folded evenly. There's a queasy ache quickly forming in the pit of her stomach. She just needs to fast forward through it. 

But what if this whole thing goes south? What if she's not prepared? She can't do this! 

"Come in!" 

Reese jumps at the muffled voice coming from inside the house. Taking another deep breath and shifting the thermos under her armpit, she turns the metal doorknob and opens the door. 

Immediately, she's greeted with the inviting smell of breakfast. The kitchen is the first room she steps into, a small area with lime green walls and dark ceramic flooring. It's a simple layout with granite counters and an old-fashioned stove on the right side, and a wooden table with two chairs on the left side. She was surprised when the address led her to a street hidden away in the downtown area, trees hanging over bumpy pavement and kids riding bikes. From the outside, it seems like a friendly neighborhood. The perfect place for people who have their life together. 

The sound of the faucet turning on breaks the clouds of her thoughts. Reese looks over to the noise and sees Harry standing over the sink washing his hands, wearing a white tank top and a pair of pristine black slacks. And Holy Mother of God, he has a lot of tattoos. His entire left arm is completely covered. There's black ink from his shoulder all the way down to his wrist. The first one her brain processes is a black heart. 

"Hey, Reese," Harry says, drying off his hands with a towel draped over the stove handle. "Sorry it's a mess in here. We just finished having breakfast." 

We. She scans the room until she sees Marlowe sat in her highchair with a tipped-over bowl of Trix cereal in front of her. Her short hair is pulled into pigtails on the top of her head, and the bib around her neck has bumblebees on it. 

"Hi. Nice to see you both." Reese shuts the door and holds the thermos out. "I, uh, brought that soup we were talking about." 

Harry's mouth forms an 'o' shape as he takes it from her and unscrews the top to smell it. "Mm, you're the best. Thank you so much." 

If she wasn't blushing before, she definitely is now. "I also have my resume," she says, walking further into the room. 

Harry puts his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips. He then looks up at her under his eyelashes and smirks beautifully with two dimples. "Can I be honest with you? I've never conducted an interview before. I haven't got a clue what I'm doing." 

Reese lets a natural smile take over her face. "Let's just wing it, then. That's what I do all time." 

Maybe not the smartest thing for her to say with a job on the line, but it's better than acting like she's prepared when she's the furthest thing from it. 

"Yeah, we're winging this thing," he says with a shrug before holding his hand out. "Please, have a seat." 

They both head over to the kitchen table. Harry tugs up the material of his slacks before sitting down, then pulls out the chair next to him for her. Not across, but next to him. She's going to pass out. 

"All right," he says with an exhale, "let me first address the elephant in the room." He crosses his legs and faces her. "I'm divorced. My ex-wife didn't want anything to do with us, so I'm a single dad." 

Reese's eyes widen. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." 

"I prefer it this way, just me and my daughter." He clears his throat as he shifts in his seat. "Now that that's out of the way, all I really need to know is that you're capable of making sure Marlowe is safe and taken care of for a maximum of six hours a day while I'm at work." 

It saddens Reese to think that he's parenting all on his own. He doesn't have family close by. He's a pediatrician. How he juggles it all, she'll never know. Her mood lifts knowing she could be of help to him. 

"My little brother is nine," Reese says softly, "so I've been taking care of him since I was thirteen. I've dealt with all the ups and downs of the baby and toddler years." 

Harry nods, his eye contact very intimidating. "What's his name?" 

"Rowan." 

"I'm sure he loves having you as a sister. I assume you have experience with changing diapers and formula feeding, then?" 

"Yes," she replies, fixing the sleeves of her turtleneck. "I live with my disabled grandmother, so I helped with those things a lot. I also know CPR. And the Heimlich maneuver." 

She needs to rewind. Oversharing never ends well. 

"That's amazing," Harry says. He reaches over to Marlowe and adjusts her bib. "I told you she was deaf, right?" 

"You did." 

"Do you know any sign language?" 

Reese rolls her lips in before muttering, "Not really, no. Sorry." 

"Don't apologize." Marlowe starts fussing, so Harry takes her out from the highchair and places her on his lap. "You don't need to worry about it since she's not talking in sentences yet, however there are a few signs that are important. The only ones you'll really need to know are hungry, drink, play, and sleep." 

"I'll look those up as soon as I get home," she tells him while making a mental note for herself. 

Harry bounces his daughter on his leg and says, "I can teach you right now, if you'd like." 

She'd like that. She'd really, really like that. 

"Go ahead." 

Smiling, he clasps his hands over his daughter's tummy. "So, for hungry, she'll usually be the one to sign it to you. She'll cup her hand around her neck and bring it down to her stomach like this." He does the gesture twice, and Reese mimics it. "Perfect, just like that. You can always ask her yourself if she's getting hungry by doing that as well. She'll eat pretty much anything you give her." 

He continues, "For drink, it's really easy. Just act like you're holding a cup and taking a sip from it. If she does that, I have pre-made bottles in the fridge. If she doesn't take that, she's a major fan of apple juice. You can just put some in a sippy cup." 

Reese nods. It's endearing to see him so passionate about the language. 

"And if she wants to play," he says, "she'll do the hang ten sign like a stereotypical surfer dude. That's how I always describe it." 

"Like this?" Reese asks, holding her pinky and thumb out and then twisting her wrist back and forth. 

"Exactly," he praises, eyes lightening a shade. "See? You're a natural. Um,"— he looks around the room for a couple of seconds — "we have a bunch of toys laying around. She's quite independent when she plays, so I'd just watch her and make sure she's safe and not putting anything in her mouth." 

She focuses on a stray stuffed animal on the floor. "Of course." 

"Then for sleep, just spread your hand over your eye and bring your hand down to your chin while closing it into a fist. She has naps around eleven that last for an hour or two. You can put her in her crib and pray that she falls asleep." Reese laughs quietly as he adds, "Then you can watch TV or clean up. Whatever you'd like. Don't forget to turn the baby monitor on." 

She blows out a sharp breath. "Okay." 

Harry cracks a kind smile. "I've written everything down in detail since it's a lot to remember." He stands and grabs a piece of paper on the counter. When he sits back down, she sees that it has several bullet points with scrawly handwriting next to each one. "In case you forget or need to know where something is, this is for you. And as always, don't hesitate to call me with questions or concerns. I just... I don't want you to feel overwhelmed because she's deaf and needs extra care, so I also pulled out some books and flashcards for you if you need them. They're in the living room." 

"It's not overwhelming at all," Reese sincerely replies. "I'll make sure she's taken care of. I promise." 

"Thank you from the bottom of my heart," he says, his eyes never leaving hers. "Even as her dad, I'm still learning how to make sure I'm doing everything I can to make things easier for her, you know? I trust you to provide her with that." 

"I understand. You're doing a great job." She understands completely. Everything she does is for her grandmother and brother. She has no choice but to be the provider. It's all she's known for years. 

Harry is silent for a beat, nodding thoughtfully before he carries on. "For the more technical stuff, Marlowe has a hearing aid that helps her hear faintly. She's not completely deaf with them on, but usually it helps to gesticulate more and focus on facial expressions. When she takes her nap, just take them off." 

"In terms of my work," he adds, "I'd still like to take her with me some days since she's gotten used to it. I don't work weekends, so would babysitting Monday, Wednesday, and Friday work for you? It'd be six-hour shifts unless I work overtime. And for hourly pay, I'll leave it up to you as long as it's reasonable." 

Eighteen hours a week. Three days. Six hours each. It's a good start. Great, even. Rowan's old enough to watch their grandmother for a short period of time. It works out exceptionally well. 

"Those days work perfectly," Reese says. "I'm not sure what a reasonable wage would be, though." 

Harry jerks his chin up. "Give me a number." 

She freezes and swallows. "Um... ten dollars?" 

"Higher than that, come on." 

"Twelve?" 

He knocks on the table. "How about fifteen?" 

Reese chokes on her words when she says, "O-okay. Fifteen. Sounds good." 

"All right, that's settled." He sets his elbow on the table and cradles his cheek, staring intently at her. "You're hired, by the way." 

Rewind, rewind, rewind. 

"Huh?" 

"I decided a while ago that you're hired," he casually rephrases. 

He's giving her severe whiplash at eight in the morning. "Thank you... so much," she tells him. "You're serious?" 

"Yeah." He rubs at the back of his neck before hesitantly asking, "Can you start today? You can say no." 

Reese presses pause and checks her mental calendar. Empty. Completely empty, so she shrugs with a giddy smile. "Sure, why not?" 

"Wonderful." He stands and gently sets Marlowe on the ground. "Do you have a PayPal account?" 

"Yes, I can write that down for you." 

After she scribbles down her username, along with some other essential information he might need, Harry leads her to the connected living room and places a hand on his hip, pointing to something. A thick silver ring on his finger catches Reese's attention as he rambles. She can make out an engraved hand doing some symbol that's not familiar to her. She assumes it's sign language. 

"This is our puppet theatre." Reese mentally stumbles back into reality at the sound of his voice. "It's cardboard, but it gets the job done. Like I said earlier, visual stimulation really helps Marlowe, so if you want, you can put on a show for her. Lots of finger puppets to choose from." 

Looking around the living room, she likes how small it is. The cardboard theatre, which has Marlowe's Theatre written on the top, is tucked into the corner, surrounded by tiny finger puppets of different animals. All the essentials are in one place — a TV and bookshelf, a couch and a recliner, as well as an indoor patio. Toys are scattered in every crevice, and if there's one word to describe the home, it'd be cozy. 

"Any questions?" 

Reese jerks her head to Harry, fizzling out from her trance. "Um, no, I think you covered everything." 

"I'm glad you said that, because I'm about to be late for work," he lightheartedly says. "You can hang out with Marlowe while I get ready, yeah?" 

Reese nods and gives a thumbs up as Harry starts to head to another room. She holds her head and rubs at her temples to stay present. She hasn't fully processed what happened yet. 

She just got hired. That's what happened. 

After a few minutes of observing Marlowe crawl around and fascinatingly look at stuff, the creak of the wooden floor makes his daughter's eyes light up and move past Reese's shoulder. Turning her head around, she only has a single second to prepare herself for what she sees. 

Harry stands in the open doorway, doing up the last button of his white doctor's coat. She completely forgot he was a pediatrician for a moment. He wears a plain white button up underneath, along with the same slacks he already had on. His hair is slicked back a little save for one strand that has naturally fallen loose. 

Reese's throat goes dry. She has an impulsive thought of wanting to ask why the hell his wife would ever leave a man like him. 

He just smiles at her and then goes to clean Marlowe's mess on the highchair. Once he's wiped it down with baby wipes, he scoops her up and signs something to her, a single hand gesture remarkably similar to the one on his ring. She does it back. He then kisses her forehead twice and pinches her cheek. 

"Call me if you need anything at all," Harry says, carefully passing his daughter over to Reese. "I'm ten minutes away if there's ever an emergency. Have fun, okay? I'll see both of you soon." 

Reese sets Marlowe on her hip. It reminds her of when her brother was young. "Bye. Have a good day." 

He shuffles over to the table to grab the thermos of soup and then walks backwards with a wave on his way out. "You as well. Thanks for the soup, Reese." 

The door closes shut, and the movie begins. 

—— 

Six hours pass in the blink of an eye. 

Reese and Marlowe had fun together, thanks to her being one of the most relaxed babies she's ever met. There were no tantrums, and she went down for her nap with no trouble at all. She also ended up putting on a puppet show for her, finding it much easier to not have social anxiety around kids since they couldn't care less about what she says or does. 

Overall, she really enjoyed today. It's been a while since she's felt content. She deserves this. 

Harry had come back right on time, his doctor's coat slung over his shoulder and a box of frosted cookies to give her as appreciation for babysitting. He looked exhausted, so she didn't keep him long before saying goodbye and driving home with a smile on her face. 

Currently, Reese saunters into her room and immediately flops onto her bed, reaching over to turn her star projector on. It's dark outside now. Just as she's about to get comfortable under the blankets, her phone buzzes on the bedside table. 

Tapping the screen, she sees a text message from Harry as well as a notification saying someone sent a hundred dollars to her PayPal account.

It reads: Just wanted to say thank you again for babysitting. Marlowe went down really easy tonight. Let me know if you got the PayPal transfer. I added an extra ten dollars for gas. 

Pause. She needs to think before she ends up replying with something stupid.

Her fingers shake as she types out and sends:  we had fun! i think she liked my puppet  show. and yes, i got the money   

You actually did that? You didn't have to. I know it can be a little dehumanizing, especially when she doesn't laugh.   

you must not be very good then haha. she was  laughing the entire time i did it 

Did she? I suppose my Mr. Tiger character is a bit outdated. 

she's really sweet! i don't  think she cried once   

That's good to hear. I've got to head to bed, but I'll see you on Wednesday. Just wanted to thank you again and make sure you got the money.   

have a good night!! 

Goodnight, Reese.   

The fake stars above Reese twinkle dimly as she replays the scenes of today. Her tangled film will unravel and show flashes of conversations or significant happenings until she drifts off into unconsciousness. It's how it always goes until dreams fill the spaces, vivid fragments of a different reality that cruelly vanish once she wakes up. 

Dreams of escaping the immutable fishbowl with a soaring leap, diving into the unfathomed ocean. 

Dreams of a single day unburdened by anxious thoughts, worrying no more with a spirit and soul free of misgiving. 

Dreams of kind eyes looking into hers with undivided attention, the color as green as spring grass with flecks of sunlit marigold. 

—— 

[zelda-without-a-licence-plate]

Can I interest y'all in some uhhhhhhhhh kokeriey?????

(pls click for better quality tumblr hates my guts)

Notes on my thought process drawing them under the cut because I love sharing my thoughts :)

Mido was the easiest to draw because he's pretty much exactly like his canon design, I only made some small tweaks. The little elements that I did add were to further emphasize the peter pan-ness of his look-- I don't know if that was intended by the developers originally designing him or not, but esp with the upwards pointy hat and the green clothes, Mido happens to already look very peter pan-y. This works for me because I feel like Mido really well showcases some of the negative aspects of peter pan as a character (the story itself is a whole other industrial size oil barrel of worms) ie his immaturity and selfishness, so I enjoyed leaning into that reference a little. Either way he's the pure embodiment of 'little shithead' and I enjoy him very much actually.

Fado was also pretty easy to put together, I sort of melded some elements from Wind Waker Fado because (tosses Fado at you) woe transgender kokiri be upon ye. This version of Fado has yet to gender-trans tho, that's kind of something that's just brewing for now. I'm having a lot of fun with them in the rewrite as a very deadpan, monotone and blunt kind of character. The thing that I ended up messing with the most was actually their hair colour. All the Kokiri in the game have blond hair and blue eyes (except Saria who has green hair and blue eyes) and I thought that was cringe so Fado is the only one in this lineup who still has blue eyes, but I made them very icy and piercing in a sort of "imm shaking im so scared please put some brown contacts on her" sort of way (slash ref)

Saria's a sweet little muffin cutie patootie precious cabbage roll sweet potato pie. I made her the shortest of this lineup, but her and Link are actually very close in height. Overall her design is also pretty much the same, but I changed up the colours all a bit bc a) Kokiri diversity reasons and b) oh god so much green help help me she was so so green oh my god it's so saturated and intense aaahhhhh. So as a whole I made her whole colour palette darker and slightly less saturated, and her hair is still green but a much darker forest-y green. Plus I made her shorts longer because she's a kid who plays in the woods all day she should have more suitable outdoor shorts.

Oh yeah and they all have pockets now. if there's one thing I know for sure about Kids Who Play Outside is they're always putting shit in their pockets. Pebbles and sticks and leaves and worms and stuff. Biohazard pockets as far as the eye can see

[cinnaminyoons]

( OMNIA VINCIT AMOR. )

ミ☆ at the end of the day, there is no home like your arms.

⤷ PAIRING jjk x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 7.4k

⤷ TAGS surfer!jk, inferred sex + implied top reader, slight age gap (jk’s 20, reader is somewhere noticeably above him), an angry father (jk’s), mentions of bullying

⤷ REQUESTED

link to req

stranger danger. disruptive stranger, endangering our coastal constancy.

there's a newcomer, they say, an odd fellow with city-slicker shades and a natural toughness about him like a veteran.

but that's the thing, they whisper. he can't be a veteran. too young. too reckless.

born and raised in his tiny seaside town, population three hundred strong, jeon jungkook has never met anyone who circulates such rumours and gossip. most fresh faces are tourists passing through to prettier sights where the aircon always works and the hot water never runs cold – but this man, they say, has intentions to stay a while.

like every evening, jungkook loiters in the only bar in town. it's a dump, really, with perpetually-sticky countertops and eclectic interior design choices. creased and faded posters line the walls, depicting the town's idyllic shore, with blue skies and bluer waters. on the wall, the same old man has been the employee of the year seventeen times, and the only thing that changes about him is the colour of his shirt.

the only good thing he can say of the place is that it serves alcohol he can't buy at the single supermarket, and that they don’t care who’s drinking unless they’re visually no older than fifteen. he flicks the blue umbrella into the bin carelessly and throws the drink back, hissing softly at the smooth fruity burn down his throat. he gestures for another and the old man complies silently, shuffling around behind the counter as he wipes down the same glass he's been shining for the last hour.

somewhere outside, past the open doors, the deep rumble of a v8 engine perks his ears. it's a gorgeous sound, pleasingly smooth and powerful, and it comes with the heavy crunch of car tires on gravel. ice cubes rattle against his glass.

his feet take him outside, and he peers cautiously around the corner like a child playing hide-and-seek. there, pooled in the sweet honey of the summer sunset, is the stranger.

the slight breeze runs its fingers over his hair, and something like jealousy slips between his ribs as he watches the stranger nudge the door open. in his hand is an engraved silver lighter and he stuffs it into the pocket of his army-green bomber, which he shrugs off of straight shoulders. beneath, he dons a black tank top, and jungkook's breath catches in his throat as his gaze slides over his body, the way his muscles tense and shift as he rolls his shoulders and slings a guitar case over his back.

at first, the inky darkness looping around his arms and shoulders seems like a trick of the light. jungkook's eyes widen – tattoos. a hundred, a thousand, precise black lines cross his skin, glossy with the slight sheen of sweat under the summer sun.

when he turns, jungkook catches a flash of his eyes behind those dark aviators. jungkook spins on his heel behind the door, his heart racing, and prays he was not caught staring.

after a moment's pause, the crunching footsteps stride away, and jungkook sighs softly in relief. he peeks around the corner. a pebble of disappointment drops in his stomach.

the first good-looking guy he sees, and he's a creep about it. he shakes his head, squeezing lingering seawater out of his hair by the handfuls, and pushes it out of his eyes as he returns to his place at the bar.

mechanically, he moves to throw away the umbrella toothpick, this time yellow with pink flowers. he halts just as he leans back to toss it into the bin.

he stares at it for a while, tilting his head. a slumping hollowness fills the gap in his chest. he's no longer a young boy, and all he's ever known are the dusty streets and salty air of this town. the stranger must be from a big, modern city, where they have bright digital billboards and warm restaurants open all day, every day – like seoul or new york, or something. he's seen the movies, watched them subbed and dubbed, but he never remembers much except for the quick chaotic swirl of life they all portray.

maybe, if he was born there instead, he could love. be loved. a church sits across from the bar, rather ironically, and nothing is a family except a man, a woman, and their child born in wedlock.

he shakes his head and crushes the thin yellow paper in his hand, tossing it away. he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he left.

night falls slowly. jungkook nurses another drink, this one blue instead of orange, and draws hearts and smiley faces into the condensation dripping down the glass.

a glint of light. jungkook glances over to the back wall, where a single chair has been set up in front of the wood-framed window. there's no glass – too hot for that – and they're thrown wide open, letting in the cool sea breeze. the waves glitter and twinkle in the background.

the stranger is setting up. he slips his sunglasses to the top of his head and jungkook drinks him in, alcohol forgotten entirely.

amongst the chatter, he sets up his guitar, tuning it quietly. the bar has no sound system but the acoustic guitar is clear and sharp as he strums a slow introduction to a sweet melody.

when he opens his mouth and honeyed lyrics spill out, jungkook knows he's fucked, knee-deep in the shit they call infatuation. the rest of the world seems to melt away, and maybe it's the way his fingers dance nimbly over the fretboard, or the way his head bobs to the bouncing tune, that makes his heart race rabbit-free with desire.

a man sits down with his mates and jungkook leans around them to watch the stranger sing. he radiates a careless confidence jungkook wishes he had everywhere. this man was a complete outsider, yet his voice was strong, rich and smooth as godiva chocolate.

jungkook snickers to himself. he never thought he'd meet anyone whose voice he'd compare to goddamn chocolate, but this stranger was a whole list of firsts.

he lays his cheek on his palm, and he doesn't even mind the sticky counter. he wonders where the man comes from, and how he came across the town – it barely shows up on maps, barely a smudge of civilisation on the coast, far from most other things. he sticks out like a sore thumb among sandals and pale polo shirts with his dark clothes and heavy boots, and jungkook knows the feeling. he appreciates the way his skin shimmers in the sunlight as if dusted with crushed pearls, and a bolt of shame buries itself in his stomach.

he shouldn't be thinking such things about this man. he's a perfect stranger and, for all jungkook knows, a hockey mask-wearing, machete-wielding killer. he can't go gallivanting after gorgeous men without even knowing their names.

time passes like a snap of the fingers. the crescent moon glows in the sky, surrounded by a blanket of stars. the last bar patrons gulp down their drinks and mosey out, calling goodbyes to the employee of the year, and the newcomer packs away his guitar into its case. he kicks the chair back under a nearby table and nods at the old man, accepting a wad of cash, and escapes out the back entrance.

"time to go, boy."

he glances up and nods, rushing an apology, and leaves his half-finished drink on the counter. he almost trips over his own bare feet, and races to the door when he hears that lovely v8 engine roar.

he reaches the entrance in time to watch his car pull out and rumble off into the darkness. he was fast – not one to fluff about. jungkook sighs softly, sinking down onto the porch step and shutting his eyes gloomily.

he had to go home. there was no other excuse he could make.

his eyes open, and as he struggles to his feet, something shines on the edge of the yellow light. he frowns and moves closer, stooping to get a closer look.

a watch?

he glances into the distance, where the man left, and picks it up. the face is cracked down the centre, and the hands are stuck at ten past five. he turns it over in his hands.

i think of you every minute.

he needs to find him.

—

jungkook wakes just before dawn with a raging hangover. he curses, dropping his hand into his bedside drawer and digging around for a pack of painkillers. he finds it eventually, and with his eyes screwed tight, swallows one dry. he sighs and digs the heels of his palms into his eyelids, waiting for the blurring colours dancing in his vision to fade.

he staggers around his mess of a bedroom. his belongings are strewn across the foot of the bed and the desk he no longer uses; the latter is piled high with dirty clothes and jewellery he rarely wears.

he grabs his surf suit and gropes his way through the dark house, dodging his surfboard leaning against the wall and combing his fingers through his curls as he readies himself for the day. his mind wanders and his gaze flicks to the broken watch sitting on the kitchen bench.

he runs his fingers over its vein-line splits and the bumps of the leather strap, worn down with time. he nibbles on his lower lip as he picks it up, battling himself. would it be weird to give it back directly? he wouldn't seem like a stalker, would he?

he sighs and shoves it into the pocket of his zip-up hoodie. he'll make up his mind later.

he spends the early morning forgetting his issues, reclining on his board while the waters bump him out to sea. the waves are calm this morning, and not even the pull of the water towards shore keeps him in place. with just a few strokes he escapes the pull like escaping orbit, and he catches every wave he can, grinning to himself when the white froth crashes over him and sends him tumbling down. he surfaces, wiping his hair from his eyes, and paddles his way to the edge of an oncoming wave, highlighted pink by the glow of the dawn.

when the sun yawns over the horizon, jungkook notices a figure by the sand. he squints, wondering briefly who would be up at such an hour, and doesn't notice the wave roaring closer behind him. he yelps as it crashes into him, burying him under the fluffy white foam.

he gasps and sputters as he crawls back onto his green and purple board, grumbling – he hasn't been wiped out like that for years.

the figure on the beach watches him. he hopes they didn't notice his fumble. they move along the beach, trailing dark footprints in the sand, and jungkook tilts his head as they take a seat against the pier's support beams. they remove something from their back and jungkook's eyes widen at the distinct shape of an acoustic guitar.

he smacks his head against his board. he made a fool out of himself in front of an attractive person – briefly, he wonders how hard it would be to get a shark to eat him at that very moment.

whether or not he should return the watch crosses his mind as the water laps around his knees. it is of no use to jungkook, and it must be important to the man if he carries it around. some selfish part of him urges him to keep silent, avoid the embarrassment of having to speak to someone so obviously out of his league. he sighs.

slowly, he paddles his way to shore, tugging the strap around his ankle impatiently, and retrieves the watch from his jacket pocket after drying his hand on it. his pile of clothes sits inconspicuously under a tree, and nothing he owns is expensive enough to care about losing. no one steals, anyway – they would find the perpetrator in minutes.

he wades through the foamy shallows with his board under his arm and the watch in his other hand. his footprints vanish in his wake with each pulse of the waves, and the warm sound of that guitar makes him gulp and revaluate his choice.

he can still turn around. he does not have to speak to him.

he pauses a metre away from him. he is as stunning as he was the night before, and he's switched out his form-fitting black top for a looser grey tank. jungkook swallows around his anxiety and clears his throat.

he glances up at him through those dark aviators and jungkook twitches a nervous smile. he sticks his board into the soft sand and waves.

"hello." his voice cracks. his face burns furiously as the man smiles slightly, lopsided and charming.

"hey."

his voice really is like chocolate. jungkook wrings his hands and thrusts out the watch.

"i think this is yours," he stammers, "i f-found it outside the bar, and it was where your car was and it's way too nice for anyone here to own it so i thought – so i think it's y-yours. um."

a beat. the man reaches for it, and he slides his thumb over its face with an odd sort of smile, somewhere between gratefulness and regret.

"thank you," he murmurs. he chuckles softly and fastens it over his wrist. "guess i can’t escape it. i'm yn, by the way. ln yn."

"jeon jungkook," he says, almost too eagerly. "i, um, heard you sing last night. at the bar. you were – you're really good."

another smile that has his heart slamming into his ribs. "thanks. didn't think anyone was listening, honestly."

"how could i not?" he kneels on the sand, tucking his feet beneath him. he crawls closer into acceptable conversation distance. "you were amazing! when i was little i always wanted to be a singer, y'know, perform like the idols i saw on television, 'cause it looked so fun and full with fans and a whole band of best friends who i could trust with anything but it's been twenty years and i'm so old and i still haven't gotten around to it—" he halts mid-word as if it is stolen right from his mouth. he laughs and scratches his warm cheek. "and... i'm rambling again, aren't i? sorry. i'm, um, not all that good with people. kind of paradoxical, given that i wanted to be an entertainer."

your smile only widens, fingers tapping absently at your guitar. "you're fine. you said something about twenty years of that? how old are you?"

"twenty." he laughs again, then worries that he's laying it on too thick. "w-what about you?"

you tell him, and grin. "i'm steadily getting up there, so don't you go thinking you're old, kid. who knows – maybe one day you'll get that stage and microphone you've been dreaming about."

he shakes his head, digging his fingers into the soft sand by his knees. "nah. i don't really think i'd be able to leave this place. s'all i've ever known, y'know? it's daunting." he leans forward. "but you'd never feel like that, right? you look like you've travelled the world three times over."

you glance over him, and all of a sudden his skin-tight suit feels invisible, hugging every curve and plane of him. "i do, huh? you seem like you want more than what you're given."

his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water and he pulls at his collar, hot. was that a compliment? an insult? he hasn't had a proper conversation with anyone for what feels like aeons.

you nudge his thigh with the toe of your boot playfully. "i was wrong, actually. you look like a steaming kettle."

"i-i'm sorry!" he almost squeaks. "i don't know how to talk to attractive people!"

he slaps a hand over his mouth and bolts to his feet. you gaze up at him with amusement and he stutters apologies and backtracks, shaking his head wildly and waving his hands. 

he's doing nothing to get him out of the hole he's digging for himself. in fact, he's digging it even deeper.

"hey, hey," you interrupt with a bright grin, "kid. calm down. just – deep breaths, okay? i'm flattered you think that."

"r-really?" this is why he stays at sea. the sea never judges him for his terrible social skills. "oh."

you nod and shuffle to the side, patting the sand next to you. "why don't you sit for a while? i... want to get to know you better."

he does not trust his voice to remain steady, and only nods and sits on his feet next to you. after a moment, he shifts cross-legged, those doe-like eyes of his glimmering as he gazes at you with barely-hidden awe.

you strum your guitar. he traces the shape of your knuckles and fingers with his eyes. you wear a few rings, and your knuckles are big, but not scarred. a boxer? they wear gloves.

"won't the salt air rust your guitar?"

"it shouldn't," you reply. "i'll give the strings a good wipe-down afterwards, and i make sure she's acclimated to wherever i'm taking her. haven't had any problems so far."

he nods, fascinated. he tucks his knees to his chest, watching you play.

your fingers move so naturally, fluttering over the frets as you bob along to a quick tune. it feels powerful and sharp, and the melody flows so freely – like rivers splitting mountains.

then, you begin to sing.

jungkook's heart flutters, as if he's a teenager all over again, watching the popular boys from the corner of his eye laugh and chat with their friends. he never could go over there, introduce himself. quiet boy, odd boy, with his stutter and lisp and silly, silly crushes – he never found comfort in people. they said, run, rabbit, run, and chased him with sticks even when he told them to stop. he was the youngest, always, with his too-big t-shirts and his owlish gaze, and he supposes that's his curse – to be the last one chosen for teams, the only one left without a group for projects.

but then you glance at him, smiling through your song, with your elaborate tattoos and pretty eyes, and jungkook hopes you'll never leave. maybe, if you were nice, you would be his friend – his first friend. maybe you'd stay forever, and maybe he could hold your hand and play with the rings on your fingers when he grows anxious.

"how long are you staying?" he whispers.

you stop singing, but your fingers continue to float over the guitar, plucking and strumming. "a few months, maybe. i take it you've heard some things about me?"

"one of the aunties says you're an army deserter, but i don't think so."

you lift a brow and nudge his shoulder. he smiles into his crossed arms. "how would you know? maybe i am. maybe i'm an assassin and my guitar's actually a gun, like in john wick."

"no," he decides, "i think you're a gangster doing a drug run. mister park's your supplier, right? bartender man?"

you can't help but laugh at that, throwing your head back. he smiles as you shift your guitar, still beaming. "gangster? it's the tattoos, isn't it?"

"w-well, they're really awesome, and they look good on you." he flushes hotly, staring with his large dark eyes. "honest."

"thanks, jungkook," you say good-naturedly, and he warms at the sound of his name on your lips. you say it with such a lovely lilt, as if you're saying his name for him – as if it belongs to him. he nods into his arms, watching the sun rise over the fluffy pink horizon.

"you're welcome," he murmurs, and his heart stutters as you chuckle. "h-hey. do you know how to swim?"

you tilt your head and jungkook shifts onto his knees before you. "yeah. why?"

"have you ever surfed before?"

"can't say that i have." you glance at his board, planted in the sand, and give him a sly look. "if you're offering to show me how, i don't have the right clothes for it."

"you can just take off your pants and shoes." at your dirty grin, his golden skin flushes so dark you worry he might explode. "n-not like that! you can leave your underwear on!"

it isn’t much of an improvement.

"slow down, cowboy," you tease, patting his thigh. "have you eaten breakfast yet? i'll make you something first. then you can ask me to take my pants off."

"wait, you mean – at your place?"

"of course. i trust you not to give the government the coordinates of my safehouse. so, have any favourite meals, jungkook? not to toot my own horn, but i'm not half-bad in the kitchen."

handsome, nice voice, can cook... only god can help him, because he is smitten.

—

jungkook wakes up late one day. the sun is already up, and from the way it streams directly into his eyes – ten o'clock, maybe. he curls into the blankets and buries his head into his pillow, tugging it into his chest.

something smells good.

he sits up slowly, struggling to open his eyes, and stretches like a cat in a bed too large to be his own. his body aches, but its familiarity makes him smile, and he swings his legs over the edge of the bed into a pair of slides. he shuffles out of the bedroom, following his nose.

rounding the dining table, jungkook searches with his hands outstretched towards the sound and smell of sizzling bacon. he finds a t-shirt and wraps his arms around it, inhaling the comforting scent of your fresh pine and citrus body wash. he feels your laughter as he presses his cheek into your shoulder.

"good morning, kid."

"i told you to stop calling me that," jungkook mumbles.

"i'm sorry, darling. force of habit. you hungry?"

"mhm. hyung, wanna come out with me today?"

"you know that i'll never be as good as you, right? i don't look half as good as you on that board, either."

he shakes his head, pressing his lips to the base of your neck on the bump of your spine. "s’okay. i like watching you come out of the water."

you laugh and jungkook smiles softly. "you're insatiable."

"only for you."

you shake your head fondly as jungkook sighs quietly into your skin, warm breath fluttering against your shirt. you transfer the bacon to a plate and move out of jungkook's arms, making him whine. begrudgingly, he accepts a plate of eggs, bringing them to the table – you tuck his hair over his ear and slip it over his shoulder, clearing a space for your lips on the nape of his neck. he shivers as your lips trail down his jawline, over his collar, down his shoulder...

"who's the insatiable one now?" he asks, feathery light, and his eyes flutter shut as your hand slips under his shirt, gliding over his warm stomach.

"still you," you hum into his ear, grinning as he arches into you. "see? my little darling, so eager for my touch..."

he whines softly as you take his earring between your teeth and tug lightly. his stomach flips like a gymnast as you grab his thighs and spin him into the kitchen bench. late morning light sweeps in across your home, and everything cold and lonely outside these walls vanishes.

he smiles as he pushes lightly at your arms around his waist, tilting his head back to allow your lips better access to the delicate slope of his neck. "hyung... our breakfast will go cold..."

"that's alright," you murmur with a devilish grin. "i've got other things on the menu."

he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, a flush crawling up his neck. "you can have me tonight like usual, okay? i like routine."

you drop a kiss on his jaw and step back with a teasing shine in your eyes. you place your hands on your hips. "you know, if you only wanted me for my body, you could've told me. i wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of learning how you like your eggs and toast."

hopping off of the bench and into your arms, jungkook twists his hands around the back of your neck and rubs his cheek into your chest. his messy hair, scented always like the sea, tickles your skin.

"but i love that about you," he hums. "you're the only person who understands how i like them done."

"i know you do." you kiss his forehead, printing a minty tingle into his skin. "come eat. if you'd like, you can accompany me to the supermarket after breakfast – in case you've grown tired of staring at the water, day in and day out."

"i like the water. it's comforting – like the stars." he sits down at the table. "always there, always has been, always will be. everlasting – like my love for your eggs and toast."

you laugh, head tossing back, and jungkook can't help the smile that crosses his face. "they're so good that they turn you into a poet, huh? just shut up and eat, darling."

afterwards, he tags along with you to go grocery shopping, holding onto your shirt sleeve and sneaking a tub of ice cream into the trolley when you aren't looking. he huffs, pouting at the tiny cabbage halves sold as individuals – what a rip-off – and you help him find a larger one, nice and bright, from the basket beneath. he jumps onto your kitchen bench and catches an apple you toss at him, digging his teeth into its firm flesh and tearing off a crisp chunk. he tells you, it's a good one, and holds it out for you to accept. with your hands full of milk and bread, you lean forward and take a bite, keeping his gaze steadily all the way; sweeter than sugar, you say, and he wonders whether or not you're truly talking about the apple.

at high tide, jungkook takes your hand and his surfboard and skips his way to the beach, taking warm sandy paths lined by tickling reeds and brushes. he chases the tide, waving over his shoulder with a broad smile, and shows off for you as he drops onto the incoming beast of a wave.

his board glimmers on the water, a spot of purple on the deep blue, and his whoop carries on the wind as he launches himself high into the air, effortlessly gliding down in a perfect barrel roll. the foaming curl rolls over him and he snakes back and forth, cutting his hand through the glittering wave as he readies himself for his next trick.

you stand ankle-deep in the tide, hands in the pockets of your shorts. the curve of the shoreline twists around sun-bleached cliffsides and swaying treetops, and a young trio tries their hand at the next rolling wave. one rudely snakes in front of jungkook and immediately wipes out with a wobble and a cry.

you smile. they could never outshine your darling surfer boy, bright and beautiful as he is.

when the water recedes for the day, jungkook sweeps ashore by the pier. you wait for him – as you do most days – and grin under dark aviators, two ice-creams wrapped in white napkins in your hands. he races up to you and throws his arms wide around your shoulders with a breathless laugh.

you stumble at the force behind his body, narrowly avoiding rubbing ice-cream into his hair. "easy, tiger. fun day?"

"yeah," he pants, "so fun. you saw me, right? you saw?"

"i saw," you hum, pressing the warmth of his dark salt-damp waves against your cheek. "you were a goddamn monster, riding those big waves like that – couldn't take my eyes off of you, darling."

"i'm good at riding big things." he's spent too much time with you. he barely blushes anymore, which is a right shame – it's a lovely look on him, that hint of rosy pink on skin like spun gold. he traces the tattoo peeking out under your collar. "you would know."

"are you sure we're on the same page? maybe you should show me again," you suggest with a glint in your eye that leads to nothing but trouble, "to make sure that i know exactly what you're talking about."

he grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, and reaches for your hand without breaking gazes. he brings your hand to his warm pink lips and kisses your knuckles, running his silky tongue over the thick white cream, and his golden-whiskey eyes glimmer under the sun.

"yummy," he hums, "vanilla. the best out of the basic three – wouldn't you agree?"

"mm." he's a goddamn tease. what you wouldn't give to return the favour tenfold.

"hyung," he laughs, licking up the melting ice-cream cone in your hand, "my eyes are up here."

"but your lips are down there, and all of a sudden i'm very sure we were on the same page just now. are you done playing in the water for today?"

he purses his lips in mock thought, scooping ice-cream into his mouth with the tip of his tongue. "what happens if i say no?"

"then i'll tell you that there's a car over there, one that you seem to adore, that boasts tinted windows and sturdy suspension. haven't you always wanted to... take a ride in it?"

his face lights up. "wait, are you serious?"

"finish your ice-cream before you get in. please. otherwise, you're cleaning up any mess you make on those seats."

he winks and grabs his board, tucking it under his arm. "you won't regret this, baby."

"i'll be the judge of that, darling."

—

light warm fingers trace dark lines embedded in your skin. "what does it mean?"

he shivers as your arm cradles him close. "hm?"

"your tattoos," he whispers, warm honey eyes flickering up to yours. "do they mean anything?"

you turn on your side and smile at him, letting him twist his knees around your calves. he is warm, and soft, and the ocean breeze flutters through your sheer curtain drapes. "the big ones don't, really. i was young and stupid and wanted to look like more of a man, whatever the fuck that meant. dragons are cool. tigers are cool. why not get both?"

he laughs softly, eyes crinkling. "i like the dragon. he feels... alive, y'know, when you stretch and move your arms? like his wings are flapping."

"i'm glad you think so," you murmur, stroking his cheek. "hurt like a bitch when the lady doing it went over my spine."

he laughs again, sweet and innocent, and he places his palm beneath his cheek. he taps your chest, gently scraping his nails down your skin. "when i first saw you, i never thought you'd ever look at me twice. funny how things work out."

you tug him closer, linking your fingers over his shoulders with a content sigh. "you're a real pretty surprise, kook, you know that?"

he doesn't need to ask if it's a good thing. he knows it is from the way your lips linger on his forehead longer than they need to. he closes his eyes and smiles secretly into your skin.

"hey, kook?"

"mm?"

"are you happy?"

"of course i am, dummy." he sits up, propping himself up on his elbows. "want me to prove it to you?"

you narrow your eyes at him and he grins, kissing his index and middle finger and touching them to your cheek.

"how was it? did you feel the happiness?"

"i'm not completely sure. i think something fell off during transit."

he rolls his eyes and leans forward to land a big kiss on the same place on your cheek. "there you go, hyung. i love you."

you nod in satisfaction, brushing away the rebellious curl over his forehead that never stays back, no matter what he does to it. "thank you."

"are you going to say it back?"

"say what back?"

he yanks your pillow out from under your head and smacks it into your face.

"ow, ow – i love you! i love you," you laugh, battling the pillow, "i love you!"

you manage to steal it from him and he grabs his own, lifting it high above his head. you catch the pillow before it comes down on you like heaven raining down righteous fury. he squeaks as you tug it across your body, pulling him along until his face hovers an inch from your own.

against his own will, his eyes dart briefly down to your lips.

the next smile you give him is charged with familiar affection. "i love you – i love my darling surfer boy with galaxies in his eyes."

"better," he breathes, "for now. one day, i'll get you back for that."

your smile fades. a crease mars your brow as you place your hand on his hip. "jungkook, you know i'm..."

"i know," he interrupts. "let's just pretend, okay? pretend as if your house isn't full of boxes."

he lowers his head to your chest and you know the conversation is over. he returns to tracing your tattoos, humming a soft melody, and you hold him tighter. if only you could forget enough to pretend, for the remainder of the morning, as if your wardrobe doesn't hold only two outfits left.

an hour later, jungkook flicks on the kitchen light.

"you've been avoiding us, son."

he flinches and whips around; his mother sits at the end of the kitchen bench, cupping a mug of tea in her hands. her eyes are downcast. his father stares at him, his arms crossed over his chest, behind the counter.

"i'm n-not avoiding you," he replies, and hates the weakness in his voice.

his father glances at his clothes and jungkook turns away, folding his arms. blue shirt, loose shorts. the lingering scent of pine and citrus. "those aren't yours."

"what does it matter if they aren't?" he retorts. "would you rather me mess up your floors, dripping water from my suit everywhere?"

"watch your tone," he snaps, "boy. those clothes are his, aren't they? that man with the boy-racer car?"

jungkook scoffs. "what do you want me to say? no, they don't belong to him? whatever – we’ve already been over this. i'm going to my room."

"stay," his mother pleads, shutting her eyes. "please, jungkook, listen to your father."

jungkook bites his tongue.

"you will not mess around with that man any longer," his father demands. he lifts a hand as jungkook opens his mouth to argue. "don't bother pretending as if you aren't. we're your parents. we know these things. he's no good for you."

"and how would you know?" he shoots back. "have you ever spoken to him? no! all you know of him are rumours from people who haven't even met him!"

"do not raise your voice at me!" he thunders. "i know trouble when i see it, boy, and that man is it. do you even know where he's from? where his family is? for all you know, he could be a married man!"

"i trust him to tell me important things!" he knows how damn pathetic he sounds, like the teenager in a coming-of-age movie believing with all their heart that they know best. "i don't need to know every detail of his life, and i certainly don't need you lecturing me about him!" he bites the inside of his cheek. "can't you... just be happy for me? i have never, ever, met someone who cares for me like he does. he makes me feel special and – and loved, and he doesn't poke me with sticks or laugh at the way i talk."

"not yet, perhaps. but he will. you'll see, jungkook. do you really believe that a man like that can do anything but break your heart? he is covered in tattoos, for christ's sake. you'll be nothing but a vague memory the second he pulls out of our town."

"would a man who'd forget me in a day remember how i like my toast? buy extra sunscreen with his own money because he knows how fast i burn through mine? would a bad man care so much for me?" he cries. "you barely cared when i came home, crying, because of the kids at school. w-why do you hate that i've found someone who won't shove me off a cliff as a prank? i'm an adult, whatever you may think, and i can make my own decisions on who i love!"

his father leans over the counter, his expression grim and severe. "that man does not love you, jungkook. he's so much older than you. he's using you, taking advantage of how damn naïve you are – you're temporary, son. if you know what's good for you – of course you do, you're all grown up – then you'll stop seeing him. you'll get a full-time job, or go study, and forget that he ever passed through here."

jungkook's hands ball into tight fists. his nails dig into his skin. "he makes me feel important," he mutters. "he makes me feel. before he arrived, all i did was bag groceries and surf and now, because of him, i look forward to waking up. even if he is all that you said, why won't you just let me make my own mistakes? is it really him that worries you, or the fact that you're no longer the only influence on me?"

“jungkook!”

he shakes his head, fisting the blue shirt at the collar. it is soft and smooth and still warm. "i'm not a child anymore." he takes a deep breath and lifts his chin. "i love him. i love ln yn. maybe for a year, maybe for forever, but all that matters is that i do. the way he makes me happy is all that matters. i don't care what you have to say about it because even if i believed you, i can't turn it off. i love him, and he loves me, and i'm leaving."

he strides up the stairs, ignoring the shouts of his name, and his heart hammers in his chest as he shuts his door and grabs his duffle bag, throwing open his closet doors and shoving in clothes by the handful through the brimming tears.

he has never spoken to his father like that. he fears the heavy steps and the loud voice but he finds that he doesn't care – there is nothing he can do to make him care because he has a man who loves him unabashedly and will hold his hand and kiss him silly in front of the church steps.

"he'll never let you come back to me."

he never even heard the door open. he glances over his shoulder – his mother leans against the white frame, wide eyes tracking his every move.

"i'm sorry," jungkook mutters, rolling up a pair of shorts. "but i can't stay here. i-i've already overstayed my welcome a couple of years. it's time i moved on from this stupid place so i can finally—" he inhales "—be free."

"with the tattooed man?"

"yes. he's gentle." he shoves a handful of cables and charging docks into a side pocket and drops his phone inside. "he's gentle when he wants to be and he's been nothing but gentle with me. if everything works out the way i hope it does... maybe you can meet him. one day. at our home, maybe, and i'll have that dog i've always wanted."

"please don't leave, jungkook. he just doesn't want you to be hurt—"

"no. i'm going." he zips up the bag and slings it over his shoulder, glancing at his mother. his voice softens. "i'm sorry, but there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. i'll call you, okay? and send pictures of the meals i cook, so you know i'm fine."

"jungkook, please." his mother catches his arm. "you're my only boy, you understand? i know that all children have to spread their wings eventually, but i never thought that it would be like this. stay."

he shakes his head and pulls himself out of her grasp. "i love him. i love him and i'm so much happier for it." he sighs. "i'll talk to you tomorrow, mother."

he sneaks out the back door, little bare footsteps nudging apart blades of cool dewy grass, and he knows the path home like the backs of his eyelids. he picks up the pace when he reaches halfway, and he prays he's not too late.

you open your front door to round brown puppy eyes. "kook? what's wrong?"

"i wanna come with you."

you blink, at a loss for words. he slips inside the bare room, all the parts of you packed away into your car. early morning light smooths long pale shadows along the tiled floor.

stepping closer, you take his chin between your thumb and forefinger and tilt his head up, kissing him gently. he melts into it, his lips slightly chapped but with the lingering sting of his mint toothpaste.

"hm. no alcohol." you consider him silently and he shuffles his feet, gaze flicking over your face nervously before darting to the ground. "i don't think the floor is all that interesting; chin up, darling. what made you change your mind?"

he exhales shakily. that is not a no. "you make me really, really happy, hyung," he admits. "like... i wake up excited to love you, y'know? i keep catching myself thinking about the future – one where i'm with you. i think about reading books next to you, exploring restaurants with you, getting a dog with you... doing warm domestic shit with you." he lowers his eyes to the floor again, roughly rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. "it's okay if you don't feel the same. i just wanted to tell you before you left."

you separate his hands and rest your temples together. "who told you i don't think like that, too?" you murmur into his ear. when you pull back, your grin is broad and bright, and hesitant excitement bubbles in his stomach. you gesture to his bag. "is that really all you're taking?"

"y-yeah! the important stuff."

you beckon, hand outstretched, and jungkook slips the strap off his shoulder and places it across your palm. you jerk your head towards the open front door, behind which waits your car, the boot open and filled with boxes and bags of memories lovingly tucked away between layers of paper and bubble-wrap. your guitar rests in the backseat. jungkook jumps down the front steps as you place his bag on top of the others and shut the boot, glancing back over your shoulder.

"you nick my kit anyway," you grin. "c'mon, then. you can ride shotgun."

for the first time in many years, hope sparks like a flare in his chest. he crashes into you, arms tight enough to make you wheeze, and buries his cheek into your shoulder.

you stroke his hair, closing your eyes. "are you sure you want to come with me, darling?"

"certain as the sun."

he steps back, hands loose on your arms, and smiles – giddy, glowing, and gorgeous. poetry's never been your strong suit but even you can see the magic between his lines of verse.

you slip your hand into his and bring him around to his seat, but stop before he can step inside. you slide off the sunglasses from atop your head and flip them around, setting them on his nose, and he laughs quietly, nudging them up with his knuckles. he presses a light kiss to your cheek and disappears into your car, tugging the door closed, and you shake your head with a smile as you take your place next to him and behind the wheel.

the engine roars and he sits back, finding your hand on the gearstick. behind the sunglasses, his eyes glimmer with all that is good and bright, and his chest tightens as if he's run a marathon with the growing familiarity of a thudding joy.

"so," he breathes, his voice bright with curiosity, "where to next?"

[ashintheairlikesnow]

CW: Paranoia, PTSD, reference to drugging, Finn is an unreliable narrator

Death Valley on AO3

Asheville, North Carolina

Present Day

-

There was a young man with a typewriter and a chair writing poems on the corner for ten dollars apiece. Finn handed over wrinkled cash, so worn it felt like cloth and not paper anymore.

"What's your name?" The young man asked, looking up at him. A chilly breeze toyed with the scarf he'd wrapped around his neck, and he had an endless smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Finn couldn't remember the name on the driver's license in his wallet. He just shrugged. "It's not for me. Write a poem for my cat."

"Your cat? Sure, no problem." The young man's fingers settled over the typewriter's keys, and then he paused. "Uh, what's his name, then?"

Further down the road, another young man played guitar with his back against a brick wall. Next to him, tourists in coordinated outfits streamed in and out of a store that sold snow globes alongside tshirts and local jewelry. Someone laughed, briefly washing the guitar out entirely.

"Her name. She is a girl. I call her Little Mother." The young man blinked. Finn cleared his throat. "Because she has just had kittens, you see. Two months ago. Two kittens."

Well, three. But only two had been born alive. And all three now made Finn's truck feel more like a home. Or less like a cage, anyway.

"Aw, that's cute. Okay, yeah, I can work with that." The young man paused, and then began to type, fingers clicking in a stuttering rhythm as letters popped up on the slightly yellowed page.

Finn stood in silence and waited, letting his eyes wander. No one looked at him beyond the barest glance, and yet he imagined he could see them pause, take him in. Maybe wonder if he looked like someone who did not belong.

Maybe he fit right in, another scruffy man in an old army jacket barreling towards forty in a city full of people who had found their way here from somewhere else. Not like some cities he'd been to, where the people seemed to radiate determined ambition. No, in Asheville everyone seemed to have come here searching for some place where the downtown had more people playing instruments for money - or writing poems - than it did hurrying men and women in suits. Where ambition was overwhelmed by a moment to sit still.

Did he like it? He didn't know.

He saw too many men here, in the gas stations along the side of the highway, in mechanic shops when his tire went flat or his brakes needed replaced, who looked like Robert. Narrow faces with narrowed eyes. Jovial laughter with something cold behind it.

Maybe he was just paranoid.

Maybe every man who smelled like diesel fuel and had dirty coveralls would always make him think of Robert.

Maybe none of them looked like Robert at all.

"Hey, dude."

Finn blinked out of his thoughts to realize the young man had finished and was holding out the piece of paper to him, even waggling it a little to get his attention.

"Oh-"

"Your poem is ready-"

"Yes, I see-"

They were speaking over each other, and Finn's cheeks colored in vague embarrassment he couldn't easily define. He took the paper maybe more quickly than he needed to, half-ripping it from the young man's hand and turning to walk away.

His heavy boots splashed through a mud puddle leftover from yesterday's rain, but he barely noticed. He skimmed the lines of the poem, trailing down the paper like falling leaves.

Little Mother / like all mothers you make new worlds / held in a single set of eyes / a universe in the flick of a tiny tail / which makes me the man who feeds planets / a little kibble / so that pebbles / become mountains / and galaxies / expand

Well... Not the worst thing he had ever spent ten dollars on.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out, walking along the curve of a hill past a group of women, one in a tiara and a Tshirt declaring her The Bride.

"Hallo?"

He winced. No matter how long he lived in this country, his accent always thickened on that first word of every phone call. He saw someone glance at him - probably normal, totally normal - and yet his heart stopped. Then started again as they kept moving.

Every friendly smile seemed like Robert's just before he'd handed Finn the water bottle in the desert.

"Hey there." Noah's voice was warm and friendly, as always. "You good? We were supposed to meet twenty minutes ago."

"What?" He pulled his phone back to check the little clock numbers on the screen, then winced. "I lost track. I'm sorry, Noah."

"No worries. You've always been awful at keeping track of what time it is." Noah laughed, and maybe it meant nothing, but Finn felt like it was mocking, a little cruel. His eyes closed.

"I used to be better at it," He murmured. Barely speaking. Maybe not even out loud.

"Well," Noah continued after a beat of quiet, "Come on. I got us a table. Come sit down with me. We need to talk about your next six months or so."

Finn nodded before he remembered Noah couldn't see him through the phone, muttered an assent, and hung up. He walked past an empty storefront with papers taped, tattered and torn. Some advertised live music that had happened long ago. One was for a rally occurring next week. Three identical posters asked Finn to vote no on a proposition.

Not that Finn could vote.

Not that he could even have said no anyway.

The restaurant was takeout only, but when Finn stepped inside a sour-faced woman took him by the arm with fingers that felt like bear traps and pulled him behind a curtain, past the busy kitchen and into a room in the back.

Dimly lit only by lamps in the corners, it had four tables. Three were empty. One held a familiar face. "Hey, you," Noah said brightly. He looked Finn over-

Up and down-

Finn shuddered as the woman let go of his arm. He still held the paper with the poem in his left hand, wrinkled from his grip, slowly crumbling.

Maybe he didn't look at Finn that way at all.

"Hallo, Noah," Finn said, and moved on shaking legs to sit at the other seat at the table. "Why am I in Asheville?"

"Oh, just a town I like." Noah leaned forward. A little older than Finn, he smiled broadly. A friendly man, when he wanted to be. The table was so small their knees nearly touched beneath it. Steaming coffee was set out in mugs in front of them by the same woman. "Have some friends here, long-time friends. I wanted to talk to you about the last job getting botched. Well, not botched. You just didn't show up for it at all, did you?"

Finn swallowed. His throat felt suddenly tight, as if a belt had been wrapped around it and pulled hard. Weight on his hips and a smile like a skull grinning pale...

He took a breath. "I-... asked someone else to do it. Was it not done?"

"No, no, it was. But not by you." Noah leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms on the table. His knees nudged firmly into Finn's. "I asked you to do the job, Finn. The more people we bring into each job, the higher the risk. I asked you, and you said yes."

You did not ask. You told. But Finn didn't dare say the words. He only stared at Noah, heart pounding. "I'm sorry," He managed, voice thin. "I didn't mean to disappoint you."

"I'm not disappointed."

"You're not?' Finn's fingers curled around the handle of his mug. Coffee tasted bitterly dark. Bitter to hide something dissolved in it? No, Noah wouldn't do that.

Or would he?

"Then... why did you ask to meet me here?"

Noah frowned, tipping his head to the side. "Because I'm... worried."

Finn blinked. "Worried?"

"Yes. I've known you a long time. Not like you to skip out on jobs, sit in one place for a week at a time like you have been... You were searching for the name last week."

Finn thought he had disabled Noah's ability to read his search history. He thought-

"... Do you have a keylogger on my computer-"

"Finn. Why are you thinking about Robert Weber again?"

Finn's breath caught. "Please don't say his name-"

"Tell me why you want to look him up again and why you're avoiding me and I won't. Why is Robert Weber on your mind?"

Every repetition felt like Bloody Mary. Three times in the mirror and Robert might appear, grab him by the throat and snarl, how dare you, little Mouse...

"Stop-"

His hand shook so badly he dropped the mug, coffee splashing across the table. His poem and his cats forgotten as he stared at the tinted liquid across the table. Noah swore and grabbed napkins to wipe it up. Finn was too frozen to move.

Noah left a pile of soaked napkins to one side and grabbed Finn's trembling hand so tightly it hurt. "Finn, please, talk to me. Why? Just tell me why."

Was it concern in his eyes and voice?

Or jealousy?

Worry, or anger?

"I-I don't know," He whispered, and slowly raised his eyes without moving anything else. Noah was slightly blurred through his eyelashes. "Why are you watching everything I do?"

Noah sighed. "You know why, Finn."

Because you own me, your very own Mouse.

"Do I?" His lips barely moved.

Noah's own lips pressed together in a line. His eyes were dark. "Do I need to say it again?"

Because you're mine. Finn tensed, waiting for it, to hear the words out loud. Because you belong to me.

All Noah said was, "Shit. It's because I care about you." Then he slid his own mug across the table. "Here. Drink mine. I'll order some more."

Finn nodded, taking the mug in both hands and lifting it to his lips to sip.

Noah believed the spill was an accident, and Finn felt himself relax. This way, he knew there wouldn't be anything in it to make him easier to hurt.

Not that Noah ever had.

Maybe Finn saw Robert everywhere. Maybe Noah didn't deserve this. But maybe he did. Maybe Noah was just another tool in the box, to him. You always lock the tool back alone in the darkness.

"I wish you'd just trust me," Noah said, and leaned his cheek against one hand, tone full of sadness and regret.

Finn kept his eyes on the coffee.

What would you do to me if I did?

-

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp

@whumperfully @pigeonwhumps @squishablesunbeam @darkthingshappen @whumper-soot @pumpkin-spice-whump @pardonmekreature @d-cs @honey-is-mesi @whump-queen @sowhumpful

[sweetheartmotives]

Hiii!

Can you write something for yan!deep diver? Maybe Damian read something somewhere that he could try to “court” us? Like showing us little trinkets or shiny things. Maybe even throwing it in our tank to play with? Kind of like how penguins give their partner a perfect pebble as a kind of proposal? Sorry, I’m really bad at explaining 😭

Have a nice day!

-🍯

★♪Yan deep diver★♪

Desc and possible Tw: Yandere themes, Mentions of prison, getting bit or hurt, the rest is fluff!! :3

Let me know if I missed any!

Ever since you've been captured, a certain deep diver has been obsessed with you. Constantly by your prison (tank), fawning over you. He never leaves! Go away! Go away! Recently he's been getting bolder. He likes coming way too close to this prison you're in, and snapping at him behind the glass doesn't scare him away anymore! But.. on the other hand, he's been giving you things. He throws things inside your prison and smiles, but sometimes he'll sit by this prison they call a "fish tank" and show you items.

••Yandere Deep Diver who… after diving, makes sure he's brought back pearls, shiny objects, or random trinkets he finds for you to see/play with!

••Yandere Deep Diver who… mostly gives you pearls and seashells. Maybe some shiny jewelry or old pocket watches if he manages to find some

••Yandere Deep Diver who… read somewhere, probably from one of the many magazines the ship/boat has, about sea animals/fish courting a mate. He thought "Technically.. My siren is a fish and counts as a sea animal, So maybe this would work?"

••Yandere Deep Diver who… wants to do physical courtship very badly. Like a male otter with its mate, embracing and rubbing himself against you.

just without the violence part

••Yandere Deep Diver who… knows you'll bite or hurt him very badly if he gets in the water with you. Hopefully, you'll come around and accept his romantic gestures!

My siren, I'd love to get in with you.. yet.. You will not let me, will you? Hopefully, someday you'll come around to such things!

••Yandere Deep Diver who… constantly talks to you. Either explaining what he's showing/throwing into your tank, or human things in general

That is a pocket watch! My siren, isn't it pretty? He shows you a shiny item, holding it in front of the glass tank for you to see

••Yandere Deep Diver who… dreams about the day you accept his courtship and become his partner. "A siren and a human getting together is impossible"? Nonsense!

My siren, please do not say such things :(

••Yandere Deep Diver who… will always try. Even if you deny, he'll keep trying over and over and over until you finally accept his romantic gestures.

I love you, my siren, Please accept this.. He gently places a golden trinket in your tank

This was short, forgive me 🍯 Anon! But I hope you enjoyed reading as I enjoyed writing! (* >ω<)

[crownedghostprince]

Peter Maximoff x Goth!Reader Headcanons

Peter Maximoff x Goth!Reader Headcanons

Fandom: X-Men.

Some fun headcanons of what I think it'd be like to date Peter/Quicksilver, being a goth person.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None! <3

Note: Enjoy! If I've written anything inaccurately, please correct me! Also reader's gender is unspecified but I do talk about 'Feminine' and 'Masculine' clothing styles.

Word Count: 1,017

[Second Person Perspective]

(Picture reposted by " Four Alignments " tumblr from 2021 and original poster deactivated their account).

♡ Peter loves your style so much. All the layers of clothing, the matching colours, how any colour you add matches the black you often prefer to wear.

♡ He loves all of your accessories and will watch you create your own and sometimes even steal you some materials for you to use.

♡ If you make pop-tab chains, necklaces, button pins, bottle cap pins, etc; he'll gift you pop-tabs from the cans of soda he drinks during his free time and bottle caps he finds laying around the place.

♡ It's always fun to see him speed around a corner, put a pop-tab or bottle cap in your hand with a smile and then zoom off again.

♡ A bit like 'Penguin Pebbling'.

♡ If you make him any jewelry or accessories, or button pins, he'll absolutely wear them.

♡ You once made him a 'Bauhaus' button pin and he's never taken it off his jacket unless he has to wash the jacket.

♡ He also borrows some of your spiked belts (basically belts you added the spikes to yourself) and wears them.

♡ You borrow his band tees, belts and occasionally his jackets when he lends you them.

♡ If you love making your own clothes and fixing them, when his clothes get old and raggedy (like about to be thrown out) he'll give them to you first so you can take the threads and use it to fix other clothes. (Or so you can cut out any patterns on it you like).

♡ Speaking of clothes, you fix any tears and rips in his shirts or pants that he often gets when speeding around bushes or exposed nails.

♡ As a date you both painted a pair of your sneakers to your liking and then coated them in paint protector until they were finished and safe from being weather ruined.

♡ If you love going to goth concerts and parties he'll 100% go with you to some of them and bop with a drink in hand.

♡ He carries hair ties on his right wrist in case yours break, safety pins attached to his jackets in case your button pins come undone and eyeliner in his pocket in case your makeup messes up.

♡ He'll paint his nails black with you and adopt any black kittens you find on the streets.

♡ If you find a stray dog he'll definitely raise the dog with you and name it something incredible like "Trucker".

♡ He'll tie your shoelaces when they come loose, hold your hair back when you're doing your makeup, help you put your necklaces on and help pin any slightly too big skirts.

♡ You and him have constant dance sessions together in his room and your playlist is a strange mix of his music and your music.

♡ It'll jump from 'Us and Them' by Pink Floyd straight into 'Spellbound' by Siouxsie and The Banshees.

♡ Going to skateparks together and having a lot of fun just messing around and trying new tricks. He loves when you pull off a kickflip or cross-over turn (depending on what you skate).

♡ You'll both celebrate Halloween by watching spooky movies and setting up fun decorations and treats. You both go candy shopping and leave them outside for trick-or-treators.

♡ Once you matched outfits as two vampires in love and another time you both dressed up like super fancy 1920s villains.

♡ Another time you both went as Morticia and Gomez Addams.

♡ He took you to see 'Scream' when it first came out in the cinemas. You two also saw 'Halloween' at a drive-in cinema.

♡ If you play in a band he'll help you practice and be your biggest fan and supporter.

♡ If you struggle to get a note when singing or learning a song on an instrument, he'll pull down one of his guitars and practice the song beside you.

♡ He loves getting drunk with you near a beach and just dancing under the stars as a radio plays beside you both.

♡ Speaking of beaches, he always carries sunscreen for you if you burn really easily. If you surf or swim professionally he'll practice beside you and you'll teach him some things you know.

♡ You taught Pete quite a few surfing tricks and he's never forgotten since. He's a naturally fast learner and surfs really well.

♡ If your favourite band has a concert and you don't hear about it he'll sneak a couple tickets behind your back and give them to you as a surprise.

♡ Also, it's certainly strange to see a goth at a Pink Floyd concert, but you still attend. They're a very welcoming community that don't mind your appearance, they're just enjoying the performance.

♡ You definitely feel less out of place at a Nirvana concert with Pete though.

♡ When he first got his license y'all immediately drove through many different cities just to listen to smaller goth bands play in bars as you both got food and soda.

♡ If you can ride a motorcycle, you definitely take him on long sunset drives through safe and beautiful back roads right beside the forests and small creeks.

♡ If y'all shoplift or graffiti because someone was horrible and y'all are getting your revenge? He'll 100% speed you both out of there the minute you grab an item or finish some graffiti art.

♡ Whilst on graffiti art, if you love it then you'll both take long walks under bridges, through alleyways and abandoned buildings and skateparks to admire the graffiti art and take photographs.

♡ If you need a model for your photography he'll pose in photos for you. During sunsets, concerts, beach days or when in a new state, you take a picture to remember the date with.

♡ You have a small scrapbook with little bats decorating the spaces between the photos as well as some press-dried roses.

♡ If you have any 'unusual' hyperfixations, or special interests, (or hobbies), he'll love to listen and learn about them with you.

[bluesofawriterwithcoffee]

He might be the one.

Tori Spring and Michael Holden.

by bluesandwhich.

"He is probably the one for me, I have really thought about it and I can't think of anyone else." I say to Charlie and Nick as they are cuddling by the fire. 

"That's good right?" Says Nick. 

I shrugged. 

I think it is good. I want it to be good, i mean I never thought I would be that person you know but here I'm talking to Charlie and his boyfriend Nick that I might have found the one. 

"Romance wasn't always your strong suit, was it Victoria?" says Charlie. "That's true Charles." I responded back. It's true, love or romance or big gestures weren't something I knew how to accomplish, well i did but most times because of rom-coms and now that i am in a relationship if that's what you call what Michael and I have as. It's been even harder to express my emotions, not that I ever was good at it. 

I let the couple cosy by the fireplace as I walked back to my room. Open my laptop and play "Little Miss Sunshine." It's one of those movies that I never thought of rewatching but here I am, it's quiet and lonely in my room.

I take my phone out and call Michael and then hang up, as of lately I haven't been able to stand through a call. I think he noticed that as last week he asked me if I was okay and why I haven't been calling a lot and I just shrugged at him. That was that. 

Things for me haven't been good, but they never were. I don't want people to worry about me, there is nothing wrong just seasonal depression but everyone has that right? Yeah. Everyone has it. If everyone has it then it's not that bad. 

Michael Holden calling.. 

I pick up and say "Hi"

My heart beats faster than usual, what is happening to me? Gosh tori get yourself together. 

"Come to the rink!" He says happily.

"Okay" I hang up, get out of my pyjamas and change into a sweatshirt that I had borrowed from Michael (and pants) . It still smells like him. Pure comfort. 

I walk down and see that Nick has left and now Oliver and Charlie are playing Mario Kart. They look all cosy and ready for the new year while i am just preparing to sleep and blog until university starts again. 

"Charlie, I'm going out" I say as I'm wearing my boots. 

"Alright!" He says. 

I open the door to be met by a strong wind current, making me feel like i should just be in bed and never get out but Michael has called me and I like him more than this wind current. 

Michael <3 

Waiting for you :D 

I see his text and respond 

Tori Spring 

On my way.

:) 

I take the bus and listen to music as I wait to be closer to Michael. He truly might be the one. 

That's terrifying. Of course I won't tell him but i tell him a lot of what goes on in my mind. 

Help. Me. 

The bus stops and I get down, walking on my way to the rink. I pick up some pebbles that look interesting and keep them in my jacket pocket. 

The Rink is empty, nobody is there

Not even Michael. Did he leave? 

What is happening? 

As i turn around to check, I hear pop! It's Michael popping balloons by his legs as he walks towards me with flowers in his hand. I blush crimson and ask "what is this for?" 

"Surprise!" He says. A surprise for what? 

Why now? And how did he get the rink so empty? I have a lot of questions. 

"Huh." I say "Any reason?" 

He shakes his head "not really, i just wanted to show you that i care about you" 

I blush. This guy, he is just.. 

I walk towards him and hug him tightly. 

"I love you Michael Holden" I say and kiss his cheek. His face is all red and tears are falling down "I love you too Tori Spring" 

We hug for a while. It feels like home, it's funny cause it's true. 

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Happy Holidays (let’s hope for the best)

tw/cursing, mention of negative body image, awkward first kiss (what's written on the tin), mention of past toxic relationship, hasan is a single father

more here

“Papa.”

Rory’s voice comes back half muffled, from being in between a mountain of his discarded date shirts.

“Yes, baby?”

a smile is evident on hasan’s face, as he turns away from the mirror and tries to button the buttons on the dress shirt again. his fingers shake, but he tries to ignore it.

“if you’re worried about it being weird,” she says, “i know how to help!”

“oh?” hasan laughs, taking a glance in the mirror before groaning, hating his outfit again, will need to change-

“Yeah!” she all but pops out from underneath the pile of clothes as hasan appears at her side, “show her the rock I got you!”

hasan misses being young, when something like who has the coolest rock can start or save friendships.

he laughs, and she sits on her belly, rests her tin fists on her chin, “You still have it? Right, papa?”

he rolls his eyes, fond on his lips, “of course i do. never go anywhere without it.”

he digs around in his black jeans for a second, produces a small gray pebble from the depths of his pocket, the kind Rory imagines goes on forever, filled with hard candy and receipts, small odds and ends for her to play with-

she squeals and sits on her knees, taking the pebble out of his hand, now smooth with age and time, finds himself fiddling with it when he’s nervous (which is often)

“my girl got it for me,” he leans in close, “can’t go anywhere without it.”

and puckers, kissing her on her forehead, and she erupts into a fit of giggles, uses her hands to push the curly hair away from her eyes. hasan is always trying to braid it, or tie it in piggy tails, but much like his own, it never corporates.

he crouches, “I gotta get dressed. Go see Sammie. Tell her Papa said you can have a cookie.”

and she gasps, her eyes light up and she runs downstairs, yelling Sammie’s name the entire time.

Hasan laughs, goes to shut the door and faces himself in the mirror as he smoothes his shirt down one more time before reaching for a sweater and putting it on.

another sigh, “As usual,” he says to his reflection, “this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

and before he can have any second thoughts, he grabs his cologne off the dresser, ignores the frame next to it, sprays himself with it, and leaves.

across town, you face the same dilemma.

“i just,” you sigh to your roommate, Addie, “am afraid wearing yellow and brown is going to make me look like Arthur.”

Addie snorts without looking up from her textbook, a pencil shoved through the bun on top of her head and one in her mouth, “I know your ass isn't talking about Arthur the fucking aardvark."

You huff as you play with the collar of the white shirt that peaks out from under the sweater, "He has a kid, Addie. He definitely is going to think I look like a kid's show!"

And you huff and shove the sweater off your head.

Addie rolls her eyes, shuts her pencil inside her textbook, "Wait here, I have the outfit."

And she doesn't wait for a response as she shuffles out of the room.

there's a little yelling and something that sounds like tugging, followed by a clash, but Addie comes back with a smile on her face, tosses you a red sweater, knit and cozy looking, that you catch with ease.

"Wear this," She says, sitting back on the couch cross legged, "It won't look like you're trying too hard, but also you won't look like a prude."

You huff but obey, tugging the sweater over your head and smoothing it down, thinking it looks good enough.

You can't let Addie know she's right. part of what being best friends is like, and instead say: "I do not dress like a prude."

and your met back with her laughter as you retreat to your room to finish up.

hasan is right on time, which surprises you for some reason you can't place.

past dates, they've pulled into your small driveway, honked the horn and waited for you to retreat from your house, but hasan instead parks on the street, kills the engine, spends two minutes trying to fix his hair before leaning into the passenger seat and grabbing the small bouquet of flowers he picked up for you earlier.

as he rings the doorbell and waits, hearing moving and yelling from inside, he considers faking his own death, or a sudden stomach bug, or maybe a call from rory-

he hasn't felt butterflies like this in a long time.

Addie throws the door open, which throws him for half a second as he opens and closes his mouth, considering what to say.

usually, he's good with words, a pro even, but something about you throws everything out the window-

"Well, well, well-" Addie smirks, leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms over her chest, "You must be hasan."

"The one and only?" It's a question, not a statement, but nerves gnaw at his belly, and anything witty he could say is gone, "You must be Addie, It's nice to meet you, finally."

He offers his hand and Addie bites her lip, as if she's about to awe, or say something, instead meets his hand, a hard shake back: "The one and only." She teases back.

Finally, hasan laughs: "Yeah, okay. I deserve that one."

You all but run into the entry, red faced and trying to button your jacket, "Sorry!" You apologize, knocking shoulders with Addie: "I hope Addie didn't bother you too much."

"Nah," He laughs, "I'm an older brother, I get it."

And as if he suddenly remembers the bouquet in his hand, he offers it out: "For you. You look beautiful, by the way."

"Oh," Addie calls from the couch, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "So he is charming."

your eyes go wide as you meet hasan’s equally as wide eyes, but he finds some confidence he didn't know he had, mumbles at you: "So you think I'm charming?"

A groan, and you tug at his hand as Addie takes the flowers from you, "You two kids behave. Get them home in one piece, hasan. I mean it."

and her voice goes from the teasing to a little harder, and he nods immediately: "Yes ma'am."

"We're leaving, Addie. Bye!"

and your bright red faced, yanking wilbur out of the door as he yells over his shoulder: "It was nice meeting you!" as you shut the door.

"I'm sorry about her," You sigh, the second the door is shut and you two have a second to breathe, "She means well-"

hasan laughs, thankfully, "I told you, I get it. She's fine."

And you nod, nibble your lip like you don't fully believe him, silence fals for half a second.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says gently, then shakes his head as if he said something wrong, "I mean, you look beautiful every night, but today especially. Not that today is-"

a gentle laugh out of you, and the anxiety hasan has melts away slowly, a litlte piece of unease falls off of him at the sound-

"Thank you, hasan." You say gently, "The flowers were beautiful."

He shrugs, as if it's not a nice thought, before he shakes his head, "Come on, it's freezing. We can go in my car."

hasan all but races to his car, holds the door open for you as you slide into his little car, before he shuts the door gently and all but jogs to his side of the car.

"Okay," he says as he buckles up, "I'm not one for bragging but-"

a small laugh out of you, and he continues: "but Rory says I make the best Christmas playlist so."

and he struggles with his phone for two seconds before a I'll Be Home For Christmas plays gently through the speakers.

There's no way he'd know, but it is one of your favorites, and it's oddly comforting.

"And," He continues, "Like i said, not a big bragger-"

"I can tell." you interrupt, teasing him gently.

"Thanks," he says without missing a beat, "homemade hot chocolate. rory insists its the best."

and he produces a small thermos, hands you a little cardboard cup, takes the lid of the thermos and pours, before he speaks: "With extra marshmallows."

You laugh, "So you were listening."

and he's all but beaming, "Always. Let's go."

hasan drives the entire time, going up and down these winding roads, points out his favorites, stops for you to tell your rating of different houses of decorations, the good and the bad-

by the time his phone rings for a third time, your face hurts from smiling so big at these stories wilbur tells

"Fuck." He sighs when his phone goes off a third time in the row.

"Seems like someone really wants to get in contact with you." You tease, hoping he picks up that it's teasing.

his smile shows he does.

"Fuck," He sighs, "it's Sammie, my babysitter, or i'd ignore it-"

he trails off, as if he's waiting for you to tell him to hang up, or ignore it, instead, you shake your head, "No, of course, get it."

"Hullo?" he answers, his voice gentle and low, shy.

He brings his fingernails to his mouth, and suddenly you realize why they're so short and torn at, bloody at the tips.

His voice gets even gentler somehow, "baby, I'm sorry."

You can't hear the conversation, but you wonder if it's rory-

you're proven true almost immediately, when he speaks again: "Okay. Lay down, okay?"

he pauses for a second, as if waiting for confirmation, before his eyes dart around, and red faced, he pulls the phone away from his mouth for a second, mumbles: "I'm sorry for this."

before you can see what he says, his voice comes into the car, gently, slowly, he begins singing: "Why are there so many Songs about rainbows And what's on the other side-"

he gets through the song and you try to busy yourself, to seem like you aren't enjoying the song as well, when he says a final goodnight, and red faced, turns to you:

"I'm sorry. I-I usually put rory to sleep, and this is the first time I haven't sung to her she-" he shrugs, "I dunno."

"You don't have to apologize," You say gently, "It's sweet. Youre an amazing father."

He snorts, as if he doesn't believe it, and there's some weight to it, but he shakes his head, "Come on, I saved the best for last."

and he grabs your cup, pours you one last cup of hot chocolate from his thermos, extra marshmallows, and passes it back before putting the car into drive, and starting the short trek

It's like a scene from a hallmark movie.

the car has been abandoned, this house has a little path in it's front yard, long and winding, a carasoul of teddy bears that moves, a Grinch cut out, lights dangle and dance from every tree- it's beaitful.

you both ignore how your hands knock into each other as you walk down the small path, find yourself standing in front of the lights that go from tree top to tree top, dance in the wind and criss cross across the street, connecting the houses to one another.

"God," You find yourself close to him, face red when you realize how close you two are, "This is beautiful, hasan. You did amazing."

And he laughs, leans in to move a piece of hair off your lip that the wind moved, when his hand lingers on the side of your jaw.

His face is close to yours, "I-is it okay? If I kiss you?"

A soft smile from you, "Yeah."

and look, it's your first kiss.

you aren't proud of how long it took you to get this, but you were always waiting for the right time, the right person, and it just never seemed in your cards-

until hasan came along

but as usual, your overthinking it. eyes closed, you tilt your head, and he must do the same, because next thing you know, you're bumping noses with him, a gentle: "Oh." from him

you're laughing, too hard to do anything for a second, and he's red faced: "I'm sorry. Fuck. I usually-"

"hasan?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

He snorts, "my pleasure."

and this time, he gets it right.

[doks-aux]

I threw this in the tags of one of your posts I reblogged but I can’t stop thinking about it so!! Izzy having a rock collection that he keeps by his bed or something just full of little stones and pebbles and even a couple of crystals that Sam has given him just because he’s been like “Izzy!! Look what I found!!” And Izzy keeping a rock in his pocket whenever he and Sam are apart so he has something to help him feel close to him anD THEN ONE DAY IZZY FINDING A PRETTY STONE AND GIVING IT TO SAM BECAUSE “it makes you so fuckin’ happy to give them to me, I thought you might…Like to get one back?” And Sam just fucking tackling him!! I am losing it over these boys!!

I saw those tags!

I do think of Sam courting like some kind of bird, bringing Izzy cool rocks and shells and sea glass and other neat little things that he finds. One time the crews meet up, and Sam is so excited to give Izzy a gift he's been holding onto for weeks now. He presses it into Izzy's palm, and it's a fucking bit of quartz carved into the vague shape of an animal that someone likely bought at market and then dropped for Sam's greedy little bowerbird hands to find. Izzy genuinely can't tell if it's meant to be a cat, dog, or some kind of bear, but fuck Sam's stupid face, he loves it. It has pride of place on the table by his bed and goes into the little plain wooden box with all of Sam's other gifts when the seas get too rough. Maybe this is the one he keeps in his pocket. He has the ring at his neck, the first thing Sam ever gave him, but it's less conspicuous to have his hand in his pocket than to play with the ring on his tie. A man has to have some secrets.

Sam has his weight in pretty stones, but what he really loves are keys. He's collected them since he was a kid and used to always try them out in any locks he came across. Izzy finds an odd little key one day, not made for any lock but for winding a clock or music box. Typically if Izzy feels compelled to give someone a gift, he prefers to leave it for them to find, but on this occasion he grabs Sam's wrist and presses the key into his palm with a grunt of "Here" and gets kissed absolutely stupid for his troubles.

[holykillercake]

PUPPY EYES AND FUN RIDES

Kid x Reader! AU

word count: 3.3k

summary: Eustass Kid was an extravagant man, taking everything he wanted without asking for permission. He was denied so much in his life that he did not say no to himself. If he could take it, he would. Or, maybe, most of it.

highlight: ¨Here´s your tip. Buy yourself something pretty.¨

warning: gun injuries with a side of SASS *sparkles*

notes: I´m back with another one-shot, guys! It has been so long since I wanted to write for Kid, and I really liked the result. I hope you guys enjoy it as well! <3

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞!

¨Hey, Pups! Bring in another round!¨ Kid shouted from the table where he and the guys sat with potential future business partners. 

You lifted a bottle of whiskey to let him know you got the message. All of the other orders entered the waiting list while you placed the drinks on the tray, taking an extra for the boss, personally. 

¨Here´s the savior, guys!¨ the redhead said as you approached the table. ¨This is my Puppy, but you call her Y/N. She runs the house.¨ 

¨Puppy, huh? Interesting nickname.¨ one of the men spoke, calling you by the name Kid made clear was only his. 

There was a second of silence. The top ranks looked at each other with a smirk, while the other men seemed confused. 

¨Man...¨ Wire spoke, leaning back on the chair, trying to cover his smile with his hand, ruffling his eyebrows. 

¨Here.¨ you called the man who commented about your nickname, holding his shot glass in front of him ¨Only the boss calls me Puppy.¨ and with that, you drank in one go all the liquid you had poured him, turning and smacking the small glass on the table, hard enough for it to crack. 

¨That´s my girl. What´s the good news?¨ Kid asked, putting his hand on your back, pulling you closer. 

¨Four tables from here, at eight o´clock.¨ you said, leaning in. ¨They got here in a black sports vehicle with tinted windows about forty minutes ago, had a beer each, and don´t stop staring. None of them hopped off from the driver´s seat. I already sent the boys out there to close the streets. They´re waiting for your sign, Captain.¨

¨My night always gets better when you call me Captain.¨ he gave you a grin before turning to the blonde beside you. ¨Killer.¨

As soon as the second in command got up and turned his gaze towards the table, the men put themselves on their feet on alert. Without so much trying to hide their intentions, they mixed in with the crowd to get to the door. 

¨Why am I shooting them?¨ Kid asked, playing silly with you.

¨They left without paying the tab.¨

¨How about your tip?¨

¨Not a single cent.¨ you shrugged, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. 

¨Oooh,¨ he purposefully overreacted with a frown. ¨I can´t let that happen. Come on, guys. It´s show time.¨

As soon as you turned your back, sounds of chairs dragging on the wooden floor like nails on a chalkboard echoed all over the bar, followed by tires rolling on the pebbles from the parking lot. 

¨These rookies never learn.¨ you mumbled to yourself, laughing. 

It wasn´t long until they returned, clearing space only for the top ranks to pass. Wire dragged the two men from the bar by their collars, and Heat carried another one, probably the driver, on his shoulders. 

Killer walked some steps behind, looking calm and neutral as usual, and Kid took a detour towards you, holding a credit card between his fingers like magicians do with their cards. 

¨Here´s your tip. Buy yourself something pretty.¨

¨Will do.¨ you took the piece of plastic and put it in your back pocket, smiling and blushing at him. ¨Have fun, boss.¨

¨Will do, Pups.¨ 

Kid lingered there for a few more seconds, eyes alternating between your eyes and your lips. 

It wasn't always like this. As kids, you would be on each other´s throats all the time. But when you passed the age of bratty kids and realized that you would stick together for the long run, your relationship started to evolve. Slowly, you started to build this chemistry, but for some reason, nothing ever happened. You would just flirt carelessly every time you met, which would be on a daily basis, but without ever making a move. 

You tried to never take it too far because you know they say, right? It´s fun and all until someone catches feelings. 

So you poured him another shot, and he gladly took it, turning around and mixing in the crowd, passing through an iron door that led to the underground level, where those who didn´t their place were sent. 

The rest of the night went on smoothly, except for the free round of drinks that Kid so kindly offered at the expense of your hard work. Some men started a pool to guess what end the newbies would have. In the end, they all took their cash back since no one thought they would live until the morrow. 

While you cleaned your station, preparing to close the bar, you could not help but reminisce about your rookie days. And how, one day, the three of you were the reckless kids. During that time, you had no idea you would spend the rest of your life around those skinny and sassy boys. 

Oh, life, what a fun ride. 

---

¨Your legs are too short, that´s why you´re slow! Slowpoke!¨ you yelled at the ginger head kid, wincing at the bruise on your knees as Killer tried to attend to them. 

¨My legs are not short, and I´m not slow!¨ Eustass yelled back, forgetting about the tissue he was supposed to hold on his nose. 

¨Y/N, stop moving. And Kid, you´re dripping blood on your shirt. Chin up.¨ Killer said, visibly tired of both of your tantrums. 

¨I told you, Killer. We shouldn´t have taken him with us. Ouch!¨ 

¨We should have, Y/N. It was just a bad day. Now stop moving.¨ 

¨It was that bright red head of his. He looks like a folklore creature from the South Blue.¨ 

¨You look like a clumsy giraffe!¨ Kid´s voice came all nasalized as he stuffed his nostrils with tissue. 

You have met the boys while still living at the district´s orphanage. At first, you weren´t close. You spent the day playing with your friends, crossing paths with them every once in a blue moon without paying them no mind. 

But as the number of orphans and crime in the district grew, the government, the main supporter, ended up abandoning the place, and the staff left with it. Not that anyone would care or notice. At least, no one besides the children living there. 

During the first weeks, you could survive with the provisions you had left. But feeding so many kids required a lot of food, and soon, you were out of it. So the oldest ones, such as Killer, joined to steal around town. 

You tagged along with them since your age was an incognito. You had lost your parents when you were old enough to walk and talk but young enough to remember those types of details. You were taller and stronger than most kids, but your actions seemed of someone Eustass´age. 

No one complained, though. They were short on young burglars anyway. 

Local stores run by old people were the easiest target. If you were sly enough, they wouldn´t even notice you. In the worst-case scenario, you would put your legs to work and disappear into the narrow alleys. 

The gangs in the area soon started to take advantage of that situation, recruiting some kids to do the small dirty work and eventually the three of you. They offered food for your growling stomachs, a roof above your heads, and warm beds to sleep at night. 

As a work of destiny, perhaps, the three of you stuck together, hoping from gang to gang, until you decided to start one of your own. And though you pulled Kid´s leg for wanting to be the leader, you agreed that there was no one better for the job. 

Your relationship developed altogether with your skills, and you went from young brats throwing sharp knives at each other to partners, blindly loyal to one another. 

Many years and many ball drops later, when Kid established his shop and decided it was time to expand his businesses, he put you in charge of the bar. Behind the salon, the iron doors guarded Kid´s office, his ¨playroom¨, and your house. 

You´d sleep there, making sure no one tried to get into your fortress. And when the bar was open, you would be Kid´s eyes and ears, observing every person stepping in and out, reporting in case someone acted suspiciously. 

During the night, when the bar was open, trouble would often arise. It could be drunk men causing havoc or unprepared spies trying to catch a glimpse of Kid´s activities. However, when the doors closed and the lights went off, people would rarely try to break in. You could count on your fingers the number of times such a thing happened. 

This night, however, someone must have had an extra bit of liquid courage. 

You were preparing to hop into bed, applying a nice moisturizer on your body, when you heard the front door being forced open. It was a matter of seconds until you had thrown a rob on and ran towards the bar, with a Glock nineteen in hands, safety pin deactivated, ready to blow some brains.  

Your feet slid on the floor as you moved across the dark hallways, silent and fast. You hid behind the door, leaned in to hear any movements on the other side, and figure out how many were there. However, it was with a deep silence that you were met. 

There wasn´t any sound of usual breaking and entering. No tables dragged or thrown, draws turned upside down, and bottles getting chugged on. You peeked through the peephole that gave you a wide sight of the salon, but other than the breach left open by the intruder and the moonlight coming in, there wasn´t much to look at. 

¨What the fuck?¨ you whispered.

You lowered the gun for a few seconds before a groan caught your attention. With one hand on the doorknob, you let out a deep breath preparing to open it, when at the opposite wall, close to the door, you saw someone move and shot right next to the shadow´s head. 

¨Damn, Pups!¨ 

Instantly, you recognized the voice, activating the safety pin and shoving the gun in the elastic of your underwear. You opened the door and turned the counter lights on, revealing Kid leaning against the wall. 

¨Damn, you, Kid. You´ve got the keys, you know?¨

He cursed something back at you, standing up straight and closing the entrance door. You immediately took notice of his roughed-up state, as if he had returned from a fight or something. His hair was slicked back, and the goggles were down on his neck. His face had dirty spots all over and sweat dripped from his temples. Even his lipstick seemed smudged, probably for cleaning the blood on the corner of his lips. 

¨Tough night?¨ you asked, approaching the drawers under the bar counter to get a first aid kit. 

¨We were caught off guard. But we dealt with it already.¨

¨I don´t doubt that. C´mere.¨ you cleaned a table, putting the chairs down so he could sit. ¨Let me take a look at you.¨

The redhead grunted, taking his coat off and throwing it wherever ¨I don´t need fucking babysitting, Puppy.¨ 

¨Then why are you here?¨ you put one hand on your waist, giving him attitude served cold with a smirk ¨That´s what I thought. Now, did the bullet come out?¨

¨How do you know it´s not a slash of something?¨

¨You said you were caught off guard. There´s no way someone would pass through all of you with a knife or whatever and not be noticed.¨ you flicked his forehead, and he pretended to go for a bite of your fingers. ¨I know my boys well.¨

Besides, you knew Kid would never look for anyone´s help due to a slash. 

¨Don´t go getting cocky, you little shit.¨

¨Too bad, too late.¨ 

Kid opened his signature grin and pointed to the side of his abdomen, where a piece of rag covered beveled skin and more blood. The bullet followed a straight path, three fingers on the left from his belly button to the side of his waist. 

¨Wanna make this more interesting?¨ he suggested.

¨Well, this is not interesting at all, but sure.¨ 

¨Geez, Pups. Who pissed in your fucking cornbread?¨ 

¨Oh, you really don´t know?¨ you stared at him with wide eyes and a fake grin. 

¨Fuck off.¨

¨Genius.¨ 

¨You want it or not?!¨ 

¨I just said ¨sure¨. You should get your ears checked as well. What do you have in mind?¨ you skipped to the question before you two spent all night on a snarky comments contest.  

¨Guess range, contact, and the gun correctly, and you can ask me anything you want.¨ he smiled.

¨Anything?¨ 

¨Anything in the world. I´ll give it to you.¨ 

¨And if I don´t guess those correctly...?¨

¨Then I ask anything I want.¨

¨I don´t see how that´s fair to me.¨

¨Are you chickening out?¨ he provoked you, knowing how much it annoyed being said things like that. 

¨I´m gonna rip your other arm off and eat it like a chicken wing. How does that sound?¨

¨C´mon, Pups.¨ 

¨Alright. But you better prepare your pockets, though, cause we´re going shopping and you´re holding my bags.¨ you laughed, helping ease the tension before you started poking him where it hurt. 

Kid smirked, keeping his gaze locked to the bar behind you. When you began to clean the wound, you felt his breath hitch for a brief second. Maybe he wanted to distract from the pain, too. After all, no matter how strong he is, he is a human being. You couldn´t help but feel a twist in your stomach. 

¨Well,¨ you spoke after seconds ¨as I said, it´s a gunshot. The path was clear and uninterrupted, causing minimal damage, mostly skin and fat tissues. Did it come out entire?¨ you referred to the bullet.

He hummed in agreement. 

¨Good. I see some minor burning and singeing of hair, so I´ll say mid to close range. And there are what I assume to be burnt metal scraps, plus the skin and hair appearance... I´m gonna go with a loose contact wound caused by a rifled arm.¨

¨You assume they are metal scraps?¨ he said, pulling your legs.

¨Yeah, but it could be just dirt since you are proving to be insanely reckless and desperate for an infection.¨ you smiled condescendingly. ¨I would have to send it to a lab.¨ 

¨No need, punk. Final considerations?¨

¨Let me see.¨ you pretended to examine a little more ¨You are extremely lucky for a man wearing barely any clothes in the middle of an open fire or extremely skilled for dodging a bullet, preventing it from causing more damage.¨ you both laughed ¨So, which one are you?¨ 

¨Are you asking if I am a dumb manwhore or a stuck-up asshole?¨

¨Your words, not mine.¨ you put both hands in the air, laughing through your nose. 

The two of you kept throwing small talk and snarky remarks while you finished patching him up. The redhead told you what had happened and that everyone got out pretty much unscathed. Apparently, it was revenge for the guys that went to the bar and never returned. Who would know for sure? They got beat up so hard all they could do was moan and cry. 

¨Done. You´re as good as new, Cap.¨ you said, cutting the last suture line. 

¨Yeah...¨ Kid replied, letting out a short yawn and cracking his neck bones. 

¨You... wanna stay for the night? You look tired. I don´t think driving is a good idea right now.¨ 

You gently scrubbed the cloth on a dirty spot you overlooked, not missing the slight sway of him leaning in your touch. You kept looking at him, from his pearl-white skin marked with pink scars, his ferocious red locks falling on his face to his torso. The muscles, the new and old scars, and the part when skin turned to metal. Eustass Kid had become a remarkable man. 

Meanwhile, Kid himself thought the same things of you. As he tried to internalize your touch in his soul, he wanted to memorize every little detail of your face. From the way you parted your hair, how your brows furrowed, and your lips twitched when you focused on something to the warmth of your skin. 

Eustass Kid was an extravagant man, taking everything he wanted without asking for permission. He was denied so much in his life that he did not say no to himself. If he could take it, he would. Or, maybe, most of it. Ever since he established his throne in the District, there has been only one thing he did not allow himself to do. 

Kid knew how cathartic, chaotic and catastrophic he could be. And how he could win the jackpot at times and lead to calamity at others. He has won much and lost the equivalent. He has made the right decisions and fucked up to the same extent. 

And he could not bear fucking up and risk losing you. 

The boiling feelings in his chest and butterflies in his stomach were shut down. He would deprive himself of his biggest desire so he could have you by his side forever. 

He swore that many times. 

But seeing you there, like that, looking at him with the care no one has ever before. It made him wonder what kind of place you had for him in your heart. He didn´t miss your breathing turning heavier and your fingers trembling against his cheek. And though he was brute and tough on the outside, the inside wasn´t so dense. You wanted it as much as he did. He knew, and so did you. 

¨C´mere.¨ he whispered, tapping his fingers on his leg. 

Without thinking twice, you got up from your seat, making your way to his lap, careful not to touch the injured spot. Your whole body caught on fire, and your chest moved up and down with every breath. It felt like your place, like his body was made for yours.

Kid placed his right hand on your waist, massaging the soft fabric of your pajama. Moving on to your face, he caressed your cheek before pulling you closer to him. He was gentle. For the first time, he was gentle. 

¨I don´t wanna fuck this up, Pups.¨ he said, gluing his forehead to yours and fighting to hold back.

¨I´m not gonna let that happen.¨ 

¨I´m not letting you go.¨

¨I wouldn´t go even if you made me.¨

Kid smirked and finished closing the distance between you, kissing you with impatience and despair. You held each other until you ran out of breath, hurting for having to part the kiss. You loved the way you felt in each other´s arms and tasted on each other´s lips. It was addicting. Alluring. Appetizing. 

¨Fuck.¨ Kid cursed, out of breath. 

¨Yeah, fuck.¨ you laughed. 

The two of you kept making out for a long while, talking and cursing as usual, laughing, and even drinking some beers. You kept sat on his lap, using him as a comfortable talking couch.

¨Hm,¨ Kid started, taking another sip ¨so?¨

¨So what?¨ 

¨You won. Mid-range, loose contact, lightweight, semi-automatic, modern sporting rifle.¨

¨Nice tongue twister. Cartridge size?¨

¨Hmm... 5.5 per 45 millimeters.¨

¨Lucky manwhore.¨ you scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

¨I´mma shut this pretty mouth of yours.¨ Kid held your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and smiling at you ¨A deal is a deal. What d´you want, Pups?¨

You repositioned yourself on his lap to face him, embracing his neck and letting the bottle touch his back. A grin formed on your lips when his body jerked up at the cold object against his warm skin. He muttered some obscenities at you, only to watch your smile grow as you came closer to his face.

¨I already got what I wanted. Are you offering to give me more?¨

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞!

[pradaksj]

Safety Net || part one. (m.)

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. 

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader 

❧ genre⟶  enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, fluff, angst, pining, eventual smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series. 

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ mentions of oral and sex but nothing explicit or descriptive. fight scene that involves drunk man. mentions of bullying (in the past). 

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n (please read) ⟶ this story switches a lot from past & present, I color coded borders to make it easier to tell :) dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple= present, also this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes 😭 ill come back to edit a lot of things soon. 

01 | 02 

“Oh perfect, y/n!” Hobi stops you dead in your tracks before you could completely make your way onto the living room, “You don’t mind grabbing some more firewood from my car while I finish these up,” he says, currently too busy melting the chocolate for the s’mores he was making.

You see tonight was New Year’s Eve, and you and a couple of other close friends had decided to rent out a cabin in celebration of the new year instead of going out to some end of the year party, choosing comfort over a night of wild drinking. In the end it didn’t make much of a difference, because the moment you saw Jimin and Taehyung walk in with a pack of soju and other cheap liquor in their hands, you knew that by the end of the night someone, if not everyone, was going to end up completely wasted.

And of course, you were right. After hours of being outside in the cold, with the boys drinking as if there was no tomorrow, everyone had now made their way back inside, complaining that it was too cold outside and that the cabin came with an indoor fireplace for a reason.

Never one to drink too heavy, you had kept your drinking at a moderate pace, only allowing yourself to reach a relaxed kind of buzz. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand were currently debating on whether the US’s landing of the moon was nothing more than a fake ploy to beat Russia and was instead filmed on some movie set. 

Jin and his girlfriend acted as measly facilitators between the two men who had been bickering back and forth for the past hour, their slurred speeches making it difficult to take either one seriously. 

Jimin, for his part, had attempted to keep his drinking at a minimal but with Taehyung acting as his partner in crime, the two were now playing an unbalanced game of ping-pong, both of them looking as if at any moment they were going to knock out on the table. And Jungkook was— well where the hell was Jungkook?

But before you could dwell too much on the thought, Hobi’s voice snaps you back to reality, “pleaseeee, I’ll even add an extra chocolate square to your s’more, just like how always like em,” he flashes you a smile, your roommate of 3, going on 4, years knowing just what to say to convince you, not that you needed much of it. 

Minus Hobi, you were probably the person closest to being sober, and you did not want to imagine the different disastrous scenarios that would happen if he sent anyone who wasn’t yourself out there. You also highly doubted any of them would even be up for it, and so with that you just let out a small groan, mumbling, “Where are your keys?”

Excitedly he points to the kitchen island, where his Hyundai’s keys laid across, “I parked right near the lake,” he says, immediately causing you to look back at him, brows furrowed in confusion, “No one wanted to carry the wood from here to the bonfire earlier, so I just parked near the lake to save our energy,” you roll your eyes, “Come on, it’s just a 2 minute walk at most, and I’m sure there’s still people celebrating across the lake as well so you don’t feel so scared, but if you want I can ask Jungkook to go wi—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—” you interrupt, grabbing the keys and beginning to make your way out, quickly putting on your coat because God knew how cold it was outside. “He’s probably asleep already, knowing him,” you chuckle, the boy who Hobi had introduced you to in the last year and had been living with you two as well, had habit’s that were all too predictable by now. And though you knew he’d be more than glad to get up from bed and help, for now at least, you wanted him to rest as he, himself, was probably tired from carrying things back and forth all day in the help of preparing everything. “I’ll be quick,” you say.

“Make sure that no wooden splinter cuts you,” he shouts out before the wooden door closes, having been the victim to such cuts all day, “and call me if you find it too heavy!”

Beep. Beep.

Double clicking the lock button, you grunt as you try to simultaneously carry the uneven pieces of firewood and place Hobi’s keys back into your jacket’s pocket.

“Oh my God—” you mumble to yourself, frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the keys. The wood was now slipping from your hands, its gritty texture eager to leave you a cut and as predicted it does. 

Wincing in pain, you uncaringly drop the pieces of wood, worried more about the cut on your hand than what had fallen on the ground below. Luckily the cut wasn’t too bad, nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix, but the tingly sting in your hand meant that you’d have to wait a while before picking the wooden pieces back up.

Around you, you could hear the sound of different groups of friends and family celebrating with their own events, spotting different bonfires all around the lake. Glancing at the time on your phone, it currently read 11:00, only one more hour until the new year. A part of you was tempted to walk further down the path that led to the lake’s shore. Maybe even secretly wait so that you could watch the fireworks these groups of people most likely had shoot up into the sky at 12. Especially because you knew going back to the cabin, no one would want to come back out with you to watch. Honestly, how bad did they need their wood?

And so by convincing yourself, you begin to walk further towards the lake, careful not to trip on any of the scattered rocks that surround you. By the time you made it down, you were surprised to see just how far you were from other families, most, if not all, of them being directly across the lake. Honestly you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. 

You didn’t want to seem creepy, but the sight was somewhat comforting, the kids running around in their winter gear while their parents and friends all surrounded their bonfire, sticks and marshmallows in hand.

Not to mention that tonight was a full moon, the milky glow from the moonlight reflecting against the ripples of the lake, and the tiny stars which surrounded the magnet that was the moon only adding to the grand scenery in front of you. Usually you weren’t a sucker for these kinds of things, but wow did it look amazing. The person who’d really enjoy something like this was probably—

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, confused if you were seeing things because there he was, not too far from where you stood, sitting on a giant rock with his feet dangling, careful to not touch the freezing water. His right hand throwing the small pebbles that were near him to the lake. Not too hard, and not too soft. Clearly in his own world. 

A small smile graces your lips, as you watch him continue, the lake not being the only thing the moonlight was hitting. His glimmering doe shaped eyes focused on the view in front of him, and you could only wonder what had him in such deep thought, but instead not wanting to bother, you slowly began to walk back, careful to not to make any loud noises.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

Mentally, you groan at the sound of the branch breaking, hoping that it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

“Y/N?” he says unsurely, his attention snapping towards the sound, squinting while trying to make out your figure from afar. Your tensed shoulders drop in response. Deciding that there wasn’t much you could do, you turn around and walk towards him, feeling a little guilty that you’ve probably interrupted his time alone.

He watches as you make your way towards him, scooting to his left in order to make space for you because unbeknown to you, he was not at all bothered by your presence. In fact, he had just been thinking about you along with a question that had been looming over his head for quite some time. And the fact that you somehow managed to appear in this exact moment, almost as if it was fate, only left him in further awe.

“I thought you were asleep,” you chuckle, gently sitting down on the empty spot next to him, slowly rubbing your slightly cut hands together in an attempt to stay warm.

“I was going to sleep, but,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “and well why waste such a good view by being in bed, am I right?,” he laughs before quickly noticing the fresh scar on your hand, “What happened?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I came to grab some more firewood from Hobi’s car and well long story short, I dropped them and well I got left with this,” you laugh, not taking your tiny injury too seriously.

Opening up your hand to further show him, he carefully examines the pinkish-red scar which was now slightly swollen, sighing in disappointment, “Mm you should’ve gone to go get it disinfected,” he mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he decides that he wasn’t going to lecture you any further, for in the past year he’s learned that even someone as sweet as you, has their own buttons capable of being pushed. 

Having pushed them many, many times before, tonight he just wanted you to feel relaxed and not have to worry about whether he’d say the wrong thing or not. Tonight… well tonight he just wanted for you to seek comfort in his presence, the same way he’d found comfort in yours along the way.

“It doesn’t hurt too much if I’m being honest,” you give him a small reassuring smile, if anything your hands felt more clammy than they did pain. The warm feeling in your chest only expanding to the point where you swore you could feel it at the bottom of your toes. 

Honestly, it was a feeling you found yourself all too familiar with these days, and though you knew what it was, you were also unsure on how to act on it, fearful of ruining the friendship with Jungkook that had gone through several ups and downs this year. And so for you the easiest thing to do was to just avoid thinking about it and avoid talking about it.

But there was no denying that the rush of emotions you’d feel whenever you managed to crack a laugh out of Jungkook to the point where his nose would scrunch so high up that you were sure that those happy days would last forever, or the ticklish butterflies you’d feel in your stomach on movie nights where he’d randomly begin to twirl your hair with his fingers, and the rapid heartbeat you’d feel hitting against your chest after an argument over something so trivial, until of course after several days of the silent treatment, one of you would get over themselves and stubbornly apologize whether it be through words or actions, were nothing but love.

Because even in the good and bad of your friendship, the arguments and the laughs, the tears and the smiles, somehow along the way you had found yourself falling in love with the boy who was nothing more than a stranger a year ago today.

“50 more minutes,” he says under his breath, bringing you back to reality.

Awkwardly you smile, “Yeah…” you breathe, the cold crisp weather causing vapor to come out of your mouth, a sign that you were freezing despite having such a thick sweater on. Jungkook is quick to take notice, offering his own puffy jacket for you to wear, to which you quickly refuse, “Take it, I have a sweater underneath anyway,” he pressures. You find it doubtful that his black cotton turtleneck was going to be sufficient enough for him in this weather. 

You giggle at his sweet gesture, finding it all too endearing, “I’m telling you I’m good,” you laugh, your shivering fingers telling a different story, “Until the clock strikes twelve at least,” you bargain, pushing the sweater in his hand away back towards him, “then I’ll go back to the warm cabin.” 

He looks at you as if unconvinced, but decides to drop it and take your word for it. And if you somehow managed to weasel into staying any longer past 12, then he’d just have to forcefully carry you back to the cabin.

Soon a comfortable silence fills the air, the two of you appreciating not only the view but each other’s presence. How fitting was it that the person you met on New Year’s day last year was going to be the person you ended it with, and begin a whole ‘nother year with.

“Can you believe it’s been one whole year since we’ve met,” he suddenly breaks the silence, almost as if reading your mind. To that you let out a small breathy chuckle, in disbelief yourself. Time had gone both so slow and fast this year, it was fascinating really, how you could be both so aware and unaware that someone’s very own existence was beginning to take such a special place in your heart.

“It feels like,” you pause momentarily, a small gentle smile appearing on your face as you remembered your first encounter with Jungkook, not knowing that it’d only be the beginning to the originally rocky relationship you had with him, “It feels like it was only yesterday.”

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

“Only one hour left until the new year everybody!” the DJ shouts onto his mic and over the blasting music of the party you were currently at, “Make sure you grab that special somebody before the clock strikes 12!”

“You heard him y/n, go grab a special somebody,” Hobi teases, the two of you currently sitting at the bar acting as mere spectators to the group of partygoers that were currently having the time of their life on the dance floor.  

For both you and Hobi, this type of setting was a little… how could you describe it … out of place for the two of you, but after weeks of begging from both Jimin and Taehyung and a little added pressure from Namjoon and Yoongi, the two of you now found yourselves here drinking the final night of 2018 away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you playfully roll your eyes, grabbing the shot glass full of tequila and downing the surprisingly smooth liquor. Hobi follows suit and chugs down his own. A squirmful look on his face following soon after. “Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll find myself dancing just like them,” you laugh, glancing at your group of friends who were currently acting as the life of the party, Jimin busting out what he calls his most “exclusive” moves.

Hobi, unlike him, remains silent which catches your attention. His attention was now on his phone, his face now appearing both red and stressed out. Nosily, you stretch your neck and attempt to peak at what could possibly have your roommate so worried, but Hobi’s quick to catch you. Immediately he pulls his phone towards his chest.

You gasp in dramatic fashion because one, your roommate wasn’t one to keep secrets from you, and two, well you were beginning to feel a little tipsy. “Now what could Jung Hoseok be hiding,” your words come out slightly slurred, a sign that the only thing you should be drinking from this point onward was some water.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he’s quick to respond, back on his phone but this time keeping it out of your reach, his fingers quickly tapping against the glass screen. You could only wonder who it was that had him typing as if his life depended on it.

“Come onnnnn,” you sing, playfully pushing his shoulder, “It can’t be that interesting, considering you don’t do much,” you pout. He looks up from his phone for a moment, but only to shoot you a glare, excusing your teasing with the fact that you were barely holding onto the state of being tipsy and on the brink of being considered drunk.

Hobi’s eyes quickly read the most recent text he’s received, rolling his eyes at whatever it was before sighing in distress, “You really wanna know?” eagerly you nod your head yes, “Well I was hoping he would be here so I could introduce you to him,” he gently shakes his head, clearly disappointed by tonight’s outcome.

“Ooooo who's the special person,” you quirk your brows up and down, but Hobi’s quick to shoot the idea down.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that,” he laughs, “this person is a..” he pauses, trying to look for the best word to describe his relationship with said person, “Mm I guess we can call him a childhood friend,” he hums, “and well he’s been going through a bit of a tough time right now and well long before me and you ever met, he went out of his way to help me and well I think this time it’s only right that I’m there for him.” you tilt your head, slightly confused as to where this was going, “And sooo,” he sings, “I was hoping that by bringing you here and having you in a fun mood, that I could ask if he could stay at our place for a couple of months…”

You remain silent, Hobi’s words processing through your head one by one, an effect of the alcohol currently running through your system, “Only until he gets used to being in Seoul again, and finds some kind of solid ground here of course,” Hobi throws it in, worried that your silence meant rejection.

“Oh…” you mumble, thinking to yourself for a moment. Hobi’s friend huh? Well you and Hobi were like two peas in a pod, meaning whoever was a friend of his, was a friend of yours, point blank. You trusted that whoever this friend was, and whatever predicament they were in, chose to go to Hobi for the sole reason that Hobi was one of, if not the kindest person you’ve ever met, and was one of the very rare kind of people who made sure that whatever it was a person was going through, that they found a way to overcome it. And well you also assume that Hobi was going to take care of this person’s expenses … right?

You smile once you reach a decision, “Of course they can stay Hobi,” you laugh, a little offended that he thought you’d say no, but glad that he asked anyway.

Immediately Hobi breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he got that out of the way, “But he’s using your bathroom, make sure you tell him that!” you throw in, not wanting the order in which you had your things arranged to be touched with.

Hobi laughs in response, “I’ll make sure to tell Jungkook that,” so that was his name, Jungkook. Not too much of a common name in Korea, interesting, you think.

“So when do I get to meet our new temporary roommate?” you ask in eagerness, curiosity a driving force.

Hobi sighs recalling his text from not too long ago, “Well he was supposed to come here and celebrate tonight, giving you two a chance to meet beforehand, but,” he rereads the message on his phone, hoping the three bubbles would pop up at some point before scoffing and ultimately giving up, locking the screen, “I’m not entirely too sure if he’s going to make it.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from the bar stool and stretch out your arms, yawning in turn, “Mm well I guess I’ll just meet him on move in day,” you joke around, glancing at the time on your phone, “but for now I need to go pee before the countdown, there’s only like 10 minutes left,” you exclaim, surprised by how fast the hour had gone by. Hobi nods in response, getting up himself and making his way to the dance floor, joining your group of friends.

And so you begin to walk towards the ladies’ room, humming yourself a tune over the EDM music that was currently close to rupturing your eardrum. How people liked this kind of music was something you’d never understand, but to each their own right? Luckily you weren’t as drunk as you thought you were, the effects of the tequila only acting as something quick and not long lasting. Now in more of a buzzed state than “drunk”.

“MmmMmmMmm,” you hum, pushing the door of the ladies room and making your way into one of the stalls. But what you saw once you opened the restroom stall was … um …. it was safe to say that you were shocked at the sight in front of you. Shocked to the point where you couldn’t even properly react, not even a shriek coming out of your mouth. 

Instead you just stood there, wide eyed, at the sight of a brown haired woman on her knees, with her hair in a messy ponytail giving um … oral … on what you could only describe as a very very handsome man.

Now if you were to ask if he was really all that into it? Well it seemed a bit unclear considering how the two of you were now having a complete stare down, a shocked expression on your face while he had a stoic one on his, until slowly a small smirk began to appear on his face.

He scoffs before saying, “Enjoying the view?” and with that you finally shriek and quickly close the stall dorm, practically running out the door because not only were you embarrassed by the situation that just happened but still in complete shock.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, leaning your head against the wall in an attempt to process what just happened. And once you did, you facepalmed yourself in frustration, mad at the reaction you had because God was that embarrassing. 

You had acted as if you’d never seen, hell, as if you’d never done the dirty with someone, but for some reason walking in on someone receiving their um... pleasure… had you feeling like a kid who didn’t know about the birds and the bees. And his little comment only added salt to the wound, he probably thought you were enjoying the view with how long you had stayed there standing like an idiot!

“Start grabbing your partners everyone because the countdown is happening in exactly three minutes everybody! Three minutes till we enter 2019!” Three minutes?! You had to find your friends quick! Pushing off what happened to the back of your mind, you speed walk back to the main sector of the club, looking through the crowd of people in hopes of finding at least one of your friends.

“Where could he b—Ah!” you impulsively squeal once you spot Hobi along with the rest of your friends, quickly making your way towards them, Hobi spotting you as well.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Hobi asks, but just as you’re about to answer, a voice from behind interrupts.

“I caught traffic, and well parking was a bitch,” the voice, all too familiar, sends a feeling of panic through your body because turning to face the owner of said voice, was just as surprising as the scene you walked in on only moments ago.

“Y/N! This is Jungkook, Jungkook this is Y/N, my roommate I was telling you about,” Hobi shouts over the music, and all you can do is stare at the man in front of you wide eyed. Your mouth slightly agape in shock, while Jungkook on the other hand has a teasing grin on his face, as only the two of you knew what had transpired in the ladies’ restroom. He sticks his hand out for you to shake and you notice the small number of tattoos that cover his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got one minute on the clock! Start saying your goodbyes to 2018, and get ready to say hello to 2019!” The DJ shouts excitedly, lowering the music for the countdown that’s about to begin.

“Earth to Y/N?” Hobi says waving his hand in front of you, having left Jungkook with his hand open for quite some time now.

“Oh,” you say, bringing yourself back to reality and shaking his hand in return, but the moment you do he brings you in for a small friendly hug, “What a small world,” he whispers into your ear, winking at you as he pulls away.

Hobi, unaware of how you two originally met, rolls his eyes, “Hey, hey hey, she’s our roommate not some girl you can go messing around with,” Hobi says, “Now come on you two, there’s only 15 seconds left!” gently he shoves the two of you towards your groups of friends who were now wearing their New Year’s props which included giant sunglasses, feathered boa’s, and more.

“In 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6…” everyone begins to scream the numbers of the countdown, 2018 clearly leaving with a bang, “5,4,3!” you suddenly feel an arm wrap over your shoulder, and like in the movies a part of you expected it to be the man you just met, but thankfully enough it was Jimin who was clearly drunk, excited, and in clear need of catching his balance. But of course that didn’t mean someone didn’t have their eyes on you from afar…

“2, 1! Happy New Year!” The fog machine erupts and the strings of golden confetti begin to fall from the club’s ceiling. Cheers to the New Year.

Clutching your stomachs in laughter, the two of you poke fun at the recollection of that fatal first encounter, “I really walked in on you getting,” you heave in such a way that you’re incapable of completing the sentence, genuine laughter filling the air.

“Hey, you were the one who stood there like you’d never seen a—” playfully you push his shoulder before even he gets the chance to finish his own sentence.

“Like what you see?” you exaggeratingly mimic his voice from that night, lowering your voice by several octaves. He cries out in laughter, tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling cringe at his choice of words from a year ago today. Who did he think he was? “The woman didn’t even bother to look up! Clearly you had her enamored in what she was doing!” you tease, and in response he wraps his arms around you in a playful manner, telling you that he didn’t want to hear any more.

“What even happened when I left?” you ask, curious to know the answer considering you only knew what you did afterwards.

“Well I overheard the DJ yell about the countdown so I had to cut it short, and well we exchanged numbers. I mean it wasn’t at all a drunk hookup or anything, I was sober, she was sober. I think I went out with her once afterward, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “It was just meant to be a one time thing I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head in slight shame and embarrassment. See a year ago, hookups like that were the norm for him, but a year ago he was also nothing like the person he was now. Was it for the better? He’d like to think so.

Shaking your head, you mumble, “To think our relationship would only get worse,” you stare at him accusingly, “no thanks to you!” He stays silent, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“Hey you didn’t make it any easier!” he huffs, “Do you need help with that? What’s that? I don’t think that should be placed there,” he mocks your questions from that day many months ago, move in day.  

“I was just trying to be nice! Make things less awkward, you know?” you feel your cheeks get red, now seeing how pushy you had probably been.

He scoffs, “No you just didn’t want your things invaded with mine,” it was now your turn to stay silent.

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

“I don’t think that should go there,” you whisper to Hobi, watching Jungkook place more of his things around your apartment, secretly hoping it was the last batch. 

This had to at least be your 15th complaint today, but what bothered Jungkook more was that not only wouldn’t you tell it to his face, but they’d be said in such a superficial tone. He didn’t care if you were trying to be “nice”, it sounded fake and prissy and he’d prefer it if you could just shut up for one moment. People like you were just so… annoying, and to think he thought you were cute.

“Do you need help?” your voice interrupts his train of thought, your figure now looming over his shoulder, and attempting to look at the content of his cardboard boxes. Harshly, he closes the flaps, momentarily scowling at you before taking a deep breath and putting on his best face.

“No it’s fine, I’m almost done but thank you though,” he says, now his turn to be superficial.

“Oh well just let me know if you need anything,” you smile, as unbeknownst to Jungkook, you really were just this nice of a person. Yeah, things may still be a little awkward on your part because of what happened on New Years Eve, you of course having to pep talk yourself several times in the mirror this morning, but to you it was important you established some kind of friendship with your new roommate. Even if he wasn’t going to be here for long.

“I’m gonna go get us takeout,” Hobi announces, not only tired but hungry from having helped Jungkook carry his stuff upstairs to the apartment floor all day, because out of all days in the year, today the elevator just had to be out of service. “I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and making his way out. Leaving you and Jungkook to yourselves.

An awkward silence fills the living room air, Jungkook currently taking a small break on the long couch, while you sit on the short one, fidgeting with your fingers. Maybe you should make conversation? It wouldn’t hurt right?  

“So Jungkook,” you begin nervously, he looks up from his phone and places his attention on you, a stoic expression on his face, “um..”, you mentally scold yourself for not already having a question prepared before speaking, “where are you from?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scoffs, “Korea?” he says, as if stating the obvious.

Feeling flustered, you reiterate your question, “No I mean like where did you move from, you know…” your voice lowers at the end.

He sighs before responding, his attention now back on his phone, “I was in the states for a while, but I’m originally from Busan.”

Immediately you light up, seeing this as an opportunity to further the conversation, “Oh I have a friend from there, I don’t know if you met him on New Years, but his name is Jimin!” you excitedly ramble, “He was the one with the dirty blonde hair, black turtleneck, sparkly jac—”

“Yeah I know,” Jungkook rudely interrupts, now getting up from the couch and walking towards his new room, “Let me know when Hobi’s back, yeah? I’m freaking starving,” and with that he enters his room and shuts the door, leaving you slightly taken back.  

“Will do,” you quietly mumble to yourself, a little hurt to say the least by his cold action. Shrugging it off, you excuse it by assuming he was just grumpy. You were sure that he'd be more open to having conversation after settling his things in.

That night after cleaning a couple of your own things, and eating the food Hobi had brought, you remained in bed and on your laptop, Youtube surfing the rest of the night away. That was of course until you heard the sound of your restroom door opening and closing. Right away you get up, already knowing what transpired, but wanting to see the mess that was most likely made with your own two eyes.

Walking into your restroom, you’re immediately hit with the scent of your strawberry shampoo and lavender body wash mixed in with the foggy steam that was created, a result of an extremely hot shower. The sink, a travesty to look at, was spilled with water all over and you did not even want to get started on the “manly” products that were now side to side with yours behind the mirror’s cabinet. Meanwhile, your hair brush was covered in strands of dark brown hair that clearly weren’t yours. But the final straw? Finding the cap of your $100 dollar serum halfly screwed closed with remnants dripping down the bottle.

Shutting the cabinet, you practically stomp out of your restroom and immediately towards Jungkook’s door. Raising your hand to knock, you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. Maybe Hobi didn’t tell him anything about using your restroom. This was only going to be a one time thing until you cleared it out with him.

Gently, you knock on his door, patiently awaiting his response. You could hear the sound of muffled music playing in the background, meaning it was probably much louder inside the room than out. Raising your hand to knock again, the door swings open just as you’re about to tap against the black wooden door. A shirtless Jungkook with your baby blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes?” he smugly says, your cheeks almost an embarrassing shade of crimson. It’s hard to not look at what’s in front of you, but you manage.

“Oh um—” you fluster your words, “um —” you gulp before finding your words again, “I was hoping Hobi had told you about the bathroom situation…but um..I guess he didn’t so um yeah, my bathroom is only for me to us—”

“He did,” he cuts you off,  huffing a small laugh.

“He what?” you asked, unsure of what he was referring to, or at least acting dense about it because you did not want to believe that the shirtless boy in front of you completely disregarded the simple rule he was supposed to follow.

“He told me about the whole bathroom rearrangement, buuuuttt,” he teases, “your restroom has the bigger shower and well add strawberry scented shampoo and lavender body wash into the mix and honestly it was a done deal for me,” he stretches his arms above himself, dramatically yawning, his abdomen stretching out in such a way that the towel on his waist was barely clinging onto its dear life.

“But—But—”

“But what?” he cocks his head to the side, amused by your panicked behavior, “It’s also the closest one to me so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “Well if that’s all you came here for then, goodnight,” he winks at you before turning around and slamming the door once again.

You stand there bewildered by what just happened, your mouth agape in shock. Did that really just happen or? Because if it did then he practically just told you that he didn’t give one single fuck.

Making your way back to your room, you’re unsure on how to feel about everything that just happened because sure you’ve encountered your fair share of rude people before but to live with one was a completely different story. And Jungkook wasn’t only rude, he was the smug kind, the “I know I’m good looking, so I can treat anyone the way I want to because my good looks will let me get away with it,” type of rude. Was it a little specific? Yes. But it’s true. Honestly, it was the type of person you thought only existed in rom-coms but clearly they exist in real life. Jungkook being a prime example of such an attitude.

“Just a couple of months,” you breathe out, throwing yourself onto your bed in exasperation, “until he gets settled down in Seoul,” you repeat Hobi’s words from New Years Eve to yourself, sighing before allowing slumber to sweep over you.  

“So much for a couple of months,” you tease Jungkook, nudging his shoulder a little bit because a year later and he was still your roommate, and ironically it was you and Hobi who practically begged him to stay.

He scrunches his nose, “ I don’t see you complaining.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I’m just kiddinnn,” you sing, “What would I do without your buttermilk pancakes huh?” you grin at him, his eyes rolling playfully in return.

“Is that all you want from me? Pancakes!” he chuckles, “Ah I should’ve known,” he shakes his head. The two of you giggle at each other’s banter, his high pitched laugh truly infectious.

“What do you think y/n and Jungkook from the beginning of 2019 would think of this scene right now?” you ask, knowing the answer.

Jungkook ponders at the question for a moment before letting out a deep breath and answering, “Mm I think they’d have a hard time believing what’s in front of them, at least I would. I think you would be happy to see that your goal in becoming friends with your new roommate worked out just fine. It just took a bit of time was all…”

February 2019.

To say that you were struggling to live with Jungkook would probably be the biggest understatement of the year. From the constant use of your things without permission, to the blatant rude remarks he’d constantly throw at you, to the days where he’d be completely cold to you and the rest of the world, and don’t even let you get started on the constant women he’d bring over. You’d have to invest in some ear plugs soon if it kept going at the rate it was because at this point you knew Jungkook liked it um … rough … so to speak.  

You found yourself asking Hobi, “Has he settled down yet?” wayyyy too often. Sometimes it felt like Jungkook was purposely baiting you to stoop to his level, like as if he was itching to play a game of cat and mouse. And so for you to continuously suck it up and put on a fake smile for him, only made him do more things to bother you. 

He was like a mosquito pestering you at the back of your neck. He wouldn’t stop until he got his fangs, or whatever it was that mosquitos used to bite, into you. For what reason? You truly did not know, for you have been nothing but nice to him since the day he moved in.

You often wondered how Hobi could put up with it, you mean Jungkook wasn’t exactly mean to Hobi, but he did throw remarks and eye rolls here and there. The best way to describe it was that Jungkook was treating you two like punching bags, and a part of you wanted to know why? Not only why, but where? Where is Jungkook from? Why was he in the states? What made him come back? Why can’t he go back to Busan? Does he have family? How does Hobi even know the dude? Why does Jungkook wake up with a stick up his ass every morning? Why was Jungkook angry at the world and when did he decide that he was going to take it out on you two, especially you. Honestly you were unsure if you’d ever get answers to your questions, but it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks when he was gone, right?

Luckily though the only times you really did see Jungkook was on weekends, and even then if you weren’t out doing some nightly festivities then he was. Or while you went grocery shopping he was working out or something, Not to mention that weekdays you worked AM shifts at your job while Jungkook, who had been hooked up with a job at one of the coffee shop’s Hobi managed, worked afternoon to night shifts. 

This meant that whenever you were going to work, Jungkook was catching up on his sleep and vice versa. But occasionally when you two did bump paths, let’s say going to your restroom, he definitely used those opportunities to try and get under your skin. Each and every time, failing to do so.

But today something was different. You weren’t sure if it was because as you were driving to work, coffee spilled onto your shirt at a speed bump because someone stole your favorite coffee thermo which had a securable lid. This then caused you to be 30 minutes late which then resulted in you receiving your first ever official warning. Or maybe it was because you had to not only stay an extra 30 minutes, but an extra hour because someone’s late night hook up the night prior kept you up and completely unfocused. You personally had chosen to go to sleep than stay up and listen to some girl screaming about how much deeper she wanted it while trying to type up your monthly report. And then of course who could forget the cherry on top? Coming back home to that same certain someone, and having to deal with the accusations that you stole his banana milk.

“I didn’t steal anything,” you mumble, warming up the japchae Hobi had left for you on the stove. Jungkook gets up and opens the fridge door, dramatically showing you the empty spot where his banana milk was usually at.

“Well someone did, and Hobi says it wasn’t him and well I trust Hobi so,” Jungkook shrugs, looking at you with a deadpan look on his face. Sadly, Hobi probably asleep already, tired from what you assumed was a long day of work and the thing about Hobi was once he went to sleep there was no waking him up. That boy could sleep through the world ending, “I don’t exactly think it’s beneath you to steal my things…” he says, each one of his words dripping with venom.

You?! Stealing his things?! When he’s the one who's been taking your things left and right?? If he had caught you on any other day, you probably would’ve shrugged his accusations off, hell you might’ve even taken the blame and offer to buy him a new pack. But right now, you could feel your blood almost boiling. How dare he!

“I,” your voice rises, completely ready to go off on the boy, until you hear a door slam, Hobi coming out completely groggy and clearly annoyed.

“Will you two just,” his voice is heavy, sighing in frustration, “Y/N just go and eat in your room,” he says, feeling like a parent to two fighting siblings.

“But—” you’re about to fight your case, until Hobi interrupts.

“Y/N…” he looks at you in despair, his tone a clear indicator that he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t annoyed, he was just tired. You grab your food from the stove, having to pass by Jungkook as you leave the kitchen.

“Was little miss saccharine finally going to pop?” he scoffs, the two of you momentarily having a stare down, until quickly you compose yourself, the fake smile he knew all too well back on your face.

“Goodnight Jungkook,” you say, before making your way back into your room, peeved that Hobi scolded you and not Jungkook, that was until you heard the sound of muffled voices through your closed door. 

If you wanted to get a better listen you were going to have to crack open the door without making a single sound, something that would be embarrassing if you managed to fail. Deciding that you were too nosy for your own good, you thankfully succeed in doing so, their voices sounding much clearer to your ears.    

“You know she’s having a bad day, and yet—” you hear the sound of Hobi flapping his arms in despair, “and yet you still make her your target of the day,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, his voice telling you that he was ready to go on the defense.

“Jungkook let’s not act dense,” Hobi says, “What are we in preschool? You have some crush, and think being mean will get you your way with her?” Hobi accuses, which Jungkook immediately denies.

“She wishes,” he mumbles in return, “I treat her like I treat everyone,” he clarifies, almost sounding proud.

“No you treat her worse,” Hobi adds, “if you’re not giving her some backhanded compliment then you’re completely giving her the cold shoulder. I probably only get half of what she does, and even I’m getting fed up with it, so I could only imagine how she feels,” he sighs, “but Y/N is a very very nice person, and since that first day I met her in till even today, I have never seen her get mad at anyone, but you my friend are,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe it, “well you’re pushing buttons that I’ve never seen pushed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah because her whole act of “I’m miss goody two shoes and can never even hurt a fly” act is such bullshit,” he drops his air quotes, “a grown ass woman acting like telling someone off will add some kind of dent to the image I’m sure has taken her a very long time to build.”

With every word he says, you could feel your stomach drop further and further down. The lump in your throat desperate to be let out. “She probably has you and the rest of the world fooled, but I can see right through it. It’s people like her who will lie to your face, and tell you everything you want to hear because they don’t want to be painted out as some bad guy. And let me tell you people like that are much worse than me because at least I have the balls to tell it like it is to someone’s face rather than protect my own ego, ” he finishes his rant, the veins on his neck faintly popping.

Hobi remains silent for a moment, taking in everything Jungkook said, then pushing his hair back with his hand, an indicator that he was stressed, “Look man, I’m letting you stay here so you can get back on your feet, and because you didn’t want go back to Busan,” he sighs, knowing he’s stepping on broken glass, “I don’t know what happened over there in the states, and I’m not gonna ask about it because I’m sure you’ll talk about it the day you’re ready to,” he pauses, “But what I do know is that you’re right, Y/N does fake her persona from time to time…” you feel your heart drop, while Jungkook’s face goes smug. That is until Hobi continued with what he was saying, “But the same way I’m not gonna ask you about why you came back to Korea a completely cold person, I’m not gonna question why she acts the way it does, especially because it's not hurting anyone.”

“Of course you wo—”

Hobi cuts him off before he can continue, “Let me finish,” he sternly says, his brows knitted, “But as long she keeps letting her feelings build up the way I’m assuming they are, and you keep acting the way you are now then—” he sighs, “There’s going to be a day where the water in the pot is going to boil over and well I don’t wanna be here when it happens,” his presses his lips together, shaking his head at the mere idea, “All I ask for Jungkook is that you try to be a little nicer to her, just for once. I think the two of you would actually be pleasantly surprised at how much in common you have,” Jungkook tries his best to bite his tongue, seeing just how tired his friend looked, “Maybe not even nice to her, just decent. Can you do me that favor?”

Jungkooks lets out a huff of air before silently nodding his head yes, Hobi giving him a small smile in return, “Thanks Jungkook, now I can actually go to sleep instead of hearing you two bicker,” he says before tapping on his shoulder and going back into his room. You, on the other hand, quickly wipe any droplets that fall from your eyes, closing the door before Hobi could notice the crack that was there.

Jungkook sits in the kitchen chair for a while, reflecting on the lecture Hobi just gave him. Hating that the feeling of guilt was beginning to seep in because unlike Hobi, before his little lecture, Jungkook knew that there had been a pair of ears listening in and he knew you could hear every word that came out of his mouth as your little attempt to crack open the door wasn’t as slick as you thought it was ….he just hadn’t cared.

“Just be decent,” Jungkook whispers to himself before turning off the kitchen lights and heading to bed. The two of you lying in your own beds at night, a lot on each other's mind.

“And to think Hobi ended up predicting everything that was going to happen,” Jungkook shakes his head, remembering his friend’s warning to him.

“That’s our Hobi,” you laugh, “always one step ahead, well when he wants to be of course,” you add, a small chuckle coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in response.

“You think he knew what he was doing the whole time?” Jungkook asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in terms of allowing everything to play out, you know? Because if he wanted to he could’ve kicked me out from the beginning…” you ponder on his question for a bit, thinking back to Hobi’s role in this whole tale.

“Mm I think he knew but was probably unsure the whole time, you know? Unsure if things would work out the way he set em up to be, I don’t know if he’ll ever tell us but…” you pause, “I think he knew what he was doing from the moment he told you that you could live with us, and I definitely think it was bullshit on his part when he said that he didn’t know what happened to you in the states,” you laugh because you could picture Hobi doing his own research on Google late at night, “So I guess he just knew that there were two people in his life in desperate need of a…” you look for the right word to describe it.

“Reality check?” Jungkook fills in for you, but you shake your head no.

“Mm,” you hum, “No, I dont think thats the way to put it, hmm, how about this…” you pause one last time before continuing, wanting to make sure you said everything correctly, “Hobi had two pieces to a puzzle that needed to connect together in order to complete said puzzle, but after lots of tosses and turns in their box well the two pieces just didn’t fit together anymore. In fact they refused to even try and fit with another, deciding that they were going to live with their new flaps and dents, and ignoring the fact that in order to complete the puzzle they needed to come together,” you let out a small laugh, “and so Hobi took a gamble, and decided to leave the pieces alone for the time being, in hopes that maybe, just maybe with a little bit more tosses and turns they’d realize that by coming together they’d be left with nothing but a beautiful image to show,” a warm smile appears on your face, “Yeah I think I like how that sounds, what do you think?” you turn to face Jungkook who was staring at you with his doe-eyed expression, completely speechless.

“Or was I too wordy?” you laugh, “I reached didn’t I?” you begin to ramble, “Ah I really need to—” suddenly you feel a cold finger pressed against your lips, Jungkook sounding a tiny “shh” soon after.

“I think it was perfect,” Jungkook softly whispers, what could only be described as a loving smile on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling your cold face get warmed up due to the heat that was rising from your cheeks. Reminding you of a memory from only months ago…

March 2019.

“Remind me why I’m going again?” you walk out of the hallway and into the living room, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Because you are tonight’s designated driver,” Hobi reminds you, “and well we all don’t fit in Seokjin’s mini cooper so there’s that,” he laughs. You sigh in return, looking at your reflection for the 100th time tonight. “Jungkook, you almost ready?” Hobi shouts from the living room, not keen on his friend’s habit of always getting ready at the last minute.

Tonight was one of, if not the only, rare occasions that both you and Jungkook would be at an outing together, and even then Hobi was always with you two, acting as the facilitator. Jungkook and you usually parted your separate ways the moment you’d arrive somewhere, especially at parties. And so today you didn’t really expect anything different. 

It had been about a month since Hobi’s little lecture to Jungkook, and in a way it did have some kind of positive effect on Jungkook. These days he was now much more quiet and reserved, and honestly you preferred the cold shoulder over the constant attitude so you were definitely not complaining.

You were even surprised this morning when you found your bathroom products to be completely replaced by new bottles, including your serum! Of course they had been slightly used, meaning Jungkook wasn’t going to let go of his grip on them just yet, but at least it meant that he had the decency to realize that if he was going to be using them all the time, then it was only right that he occasionally paid for them. 

Even last week when you heard him mumble a small, “that was good, thank you,” after making gyeran-mari’s for breakfast, you had to look at Hobi for confirmation that it really happened. Hell, he had even stopped constantly bringing women over, instead beginning to work out more often as you would now hear his grunts come from doing sit ups than from doing um… yeah. It looked like he even had a knack for boxing because you soon noticed how he’d come back home with hands wrapped in bandages or his gloves stringing along his duffel bag. Honestly, it was a little hot, but you’d rather die before admitting that to anyone.

“Ah I’m done, I’m done,” a voice comes out the hallway, Jungkook balancing on his right foot in a rush to put on his left shoe. Tonight he was dressed a little differently than his usual self, replacing his usual black attire and black combat boots for a more club friendly look of ripped blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a black fitted t-shirt. Of course not straying too far from his personal style. The new tattoo he had gotten recently was also in clear view tonight, his sleeve coming along quite nice in your opinion. He had recently even gotten his hair permed, allowing it to grow out longer than what you were used to seeing. It was crazy what a difference hair could make because it definitely made him look … better, in your eyes at least. 

All this change on his part, honestly made you feel a little dull, but that’d be something to dwell on for another day. For now, you just wanted to get tonight over with. The faster you got there, the quicker you could leave, and the earlier you could be in bed.  

“You took a whole ass hour for this?” Hobi eyes Jungkook up and down. Jungkook is quick to shoot him an offended look, while you on the other hand are struggling to suppress a laugh, “I’m not saying you look bad, in fact you look amazing, but this should not take you an hour!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, combing a hand through his hair.

“Are we going to get going or what?” he says, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

Once you all arrived, you were quick to meet up with the rest of your friends, everyone having pitched in for bottle service. Jungkook, who had become pretty cool with the rest of everyone, sat between Yoongi and Namjoon, all three of them laughing at God knows what. The bottle they had bought almost halfway done. 

You on the other hand, were just watching everyone, the only person besides yourself who wasn’t drunk was Seokjin, and even then he was too busy with his new girlfriend to pay you any attention. Not that you really minded considering she really was a kind person and well who could blame Seokjin for being head over heels. They even shared the same humor, something that was quite rare to find.

You weren’t sure if it was because tonight the club seemed extra packed, or maybe the dress you were wearing was feeling a little too tight or maybe it was the stench of all alcohol getting to you but something definitely fell off. And you did not like it one bit.

“Hey I’m gonna go out back and get some fresh air outside,” you tell Hobi over the music, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement, the boy was clearly very drunk. The moment you stepped out, you definitely did feel better, the crispy fresh air outside almost making you feel as if you were breathing for the first time. That was until you heard the sound of someone arguing.

“I saw you dancing with her! Stop trying to gaslight me into thinking you weren’t!” a woman screams, very much in distress by who you assumed was her boyfriend, “God, I knew I should’ve listened to my mom, you are a pig! And I deserve a man who's going to—

“What did you just say?” he grabs her by the arm, his atrocious grip surely going to cause her a bruise later on.

“Let go of me!” she cries, as he then grabs her by the hair, ready to toss her to the floor and do whatever else he wanted to do with her. You feel your breathing become heavier, watching the scene unfold in front of you, unsure of what to do. You were scared and you didn’t know how to defend yourself, let alone someone else. But you also knew that God forbid you were ever in that situation, you wouldn't want someone turning a blind eye on you, so you did what was only right.

“Hey!” you scream while walking towards the couple, catching the man’s attention, “Let go of her before I—”

“Before you what?” he lets go of her hair, now walking towards you as well. The woman watches you with shaky eyes, having never guessed that her savior would be a woman in black string heels and a face that for the most part was not at all intimidating.

You reach into your purse, hoping to get a feel for either your taser or pocket knife, but of course, of fucking course, on all days of the year it was no where to be found. Nonetheless, you muster up your courage and respond, “Before I call security,” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

He laughs, dramatically looking around to show you that no one around was here to help, “Anyone ever teach you to mind your fucking business, like how a woman should,” you gulp, almost losing balance while taking a step back as he only gets closer, “Huh?! Anyone every fucking teach you that?” he closes in on you, your back soon hitting the wall that was behind you.

“Just leave her alone!” the woman screams in hysteria.

“You stay the fuck out of it! You’re the whole reason she’s in this mess,” he mutters, his words completely slurred and his breath reeking like alcohol. You almost feel like vomiting at the accidental whiff you take because wow was this man just disgusting.

“See maybe if you would’ve just gone about your day, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he makes a ticking sound with his mouth, mocking you, “but” he sighs, “I guess whores just have to stick with each other, huh?” he grabs you by the scalp of your hair, this time not hesitating to throw you to the ground.

“Oh my—” the woman screams, panic flowing through her veins.

“Go!” you yell at her, giving her the chance to escape even if it meant sacrificing your own wellbeing. She hesitates for a moment before running, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement was one of the last things you could hear before the ringing in your ears became all too much. 

You look at your hands for a moment, the stinging feeling almost unbearable as they had taken most of the impact of the fall, along with your knees. A part of you hoped he had left, that he had somehow magically disappeared or that you’d wake up to find that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t until you felt the grip of his hand on your hair again, that you’d come to realize the reality of your situation and that there was absolutely no one to help you.

The man lifts up his free hand, building power for the punch he was preparing to throw, as you could only throw your arms in front yourself in an attempt to minimize the impact of the punch. By now tears were falling from freely your eyes, small whimpers and sniffles coming out of fear. The final words you hear being spat from his mouth were, “you stupid bitch,” and in your head you count to three, waiting for the feeling of his fist against your face. But it never came.

Instead you feel the release of his hand on your scalp, and when you open your eyes you find him on the ground, not completely knocked out but he might as well be with just how out of it he looked. And though you weren’t drunk, you almost felt as if you were because absolutely everything around you was overlapping, hardly able to see anything in clear focus. But what you could make out was that there was a figure, and by the build you assume was a man, now sitting over the drunkard, throwing several punches at him. His goal was either to knock the man out or make sure he suffered every way possible before knocking him out.  

You stand there for a moment in shock as you hear the person’s voice, a voice that was all too familiar, “I dare you to fucking lay a hand on her again, I fucking dare you!” Jungkook yells, throwing another punch at the man, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” slowly your vision becomes clearer as you wipe away the tears that had been blocking your vision, and soon you realize if Jungkook kept going at the rate he was, the man was going to be killed.

Quickly you run towards Jungkook, attempting to grab his right arm before he swings again, “Jungkook stop!” you yell, but instead he pushes your arm away, too caught up in his rage to think straight. The drunk man looked as if he was barely holding on, blood now all over his face. “I said stop!” you yell at the top of your lungs, the veins on your neck popping. Jungkook, panting, looks up at you, momentarily stopping. “Just stop,” you cry, wanting this nightmare to be over.

Jungkook looks at the barely conscious man one more time, pulling him by the collar of his shirt so that he’d get a good look of him, “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Jungkook,” you stop him from finishing his sentence.

He sighs, “Just be glad she’s here because scum like you deserve to fucking rot,” he says, letting go of the man’s collar and allowing his head to hit the pavement. He gets up from his position and begins to pat his black shirt of any dirt, catching his breath along the way. “You okay?” he asks, intensely staring at you.

But before you could respond, a voice screams, “Hey!” the two of you look up at said voice, only to find a security guard with a flashlight in his hand and his walky talky on the other.

Jungkook quickly grabs you by the hand, causing you to wince at the sudden touch, “Come on,”  he says, pulling you to follow him.

He leads you back to the parking lot, confusion evidently on your face. It wasn’t until you turned back to find several security guards following after you that everything began to click together, panic now flowing through your veins. Hurriedly, you grab Hobi’s keys from your purse and unlock the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

Jungkook quickly hops in the passenger seat, his head throbbing from the amount of drinks he’s had, watching as you struggle to put the key in the ignition, clearly in a state of anxiousness. He yanks the keys from your hands and places them in himself, “Now drive!” he shouts, causing you to step ferociously on the gas pedal. Burning tire as you race off the parking lot.  

“God my head is fucking killing me,” Jungkook complains, his blood stained hands resting on his temple. By now the two of you were heading back home, Jungkook having texted Hobi through your phone that he was going to have to get a ride from Seokjin. For the situation you two were just in had required an immediate escape.

You on the other hand were driving in complete silence, still in a state of shock of what just happened. Jungkook having to constantly remind you that you were driving, several instances of you zoning out at a stop light happening way too often for his liking.

“I am way too drunk for this shit,” he mutters under his breath, the reality of what just happened beginning to kick in. The queasy feeling in his stomach became more and more unbearable with every turn you took. And don’t even get him started on his throat, which was currently as dry as the Sahara Desert. “Is there some kind of water in this car?” he asks, beginning to look through the car console and glove compartment.

“I don’t,” you pause and sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

“Pull over,” he repeats, his patience running out.

Not questioning him a second time, you do exactly that, pulling over at the side of some park near your apartment. Jungkook takes in a deep breath before opening the door and sticking his head out, seconds later the sound of him vomiting making you feel as queasy as he did.

“Oh God,” you mumble to yourself, just wanting to be in bed already. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because soon enough Jungkook was getting out of the car and going to God knows where. “Where are you going?” you shout, as he walks towards the park.

“I need water,” he says, “You coming or what?” you contemplate on whether to follow him or not, before ultimately exiting the car and locking it. With the way he was stumbling his footsteps, it was better safe than sorry to follow him.

“BogoShipda!” Jungkook sings loudly to the trees in the park, all of the alcohol he drank at the club still running through his system. You stare at him in surprise, having never seen him act like this before, as he continues to sing.

“Now where’s a water fountain when you need one,” he mumbles, the darkness of the night sky making it hard for him to scan his surrounding area. You found yourself feeling a little scared in fact. The silhouette of the trees and the sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches only making the atmosphere more scary.

“Ah there it is!” Jungkook slurs his words, sounding like a kid at a carnival. Once he’s in front of the fountain, he pushes against the button, the water sprouting out of the fountainhead. You stare at him in silence as he hadn’t crouched down to drink yet, thus confusing you.

It wasn’t until you felt a tug at your hand and the sting of the water hitting against your scrapes that you felt like punching him. “What are you doing?” you ask, trying your best not to sound too peeved.

He looks at you before rolling his eyes, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cleaning your hands,” he signals for you to give him your other hand, and without thinking you comply.

“I could’ve done this at home,” you say.

“I know, but the longer we wait the higher chance it'll end up getting infected by dirt so,” he looks at you with a know it all expression, and you mumble a small “I guess,” under your breath, the stinging sensation soon enough replaced by a cool one, your hands no longer feeling as rusty.

It isn’t until he’s finished that he takes a sip of water, exhaling a small “ahh” sound after downing several gulps. “Come on,” he grabs your hand again, leading you to a park bench with a small lamppost right next to it, providing a smooth yellow dim light.

“Why are we—”

“I just want to sit for a moment without the movement of a car, just for a bit,” he exhales a heavy breath, manspreading on the bench and throwing his head back, “just for a bit,” he repeats, his voice soft.

The two of you sit there in silence, “Why are you staring at me?” he asks with his eyes closed, feeling your intense stare.  

“I’m not—I’m not staring,” you stutter, he hums in response. Silence fills the air again, until Jungkook mumbles something that at first is inaudible.

“What?” you ask.

“I said I’m ˢᵒʳʳʸ,” you look at him confused, were you hearing him correctly?

“Wait what?” you ask again, it wasn’t your intention to come off as pushy nor pretentious but you were just seriously surprised as to what you were hearing.

He grumbles before repeating himself, “I said,” he drops his shoulders, “I said I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to look at you, his usual smug behavior nowhere to be found on his face, he was being completely serious.

“Oh…” you pause for a moment before continuing, “Can I ask for what? I’m not trying to be mean or anything or act dense. I seriously just don’t know why,” you make sure you add those claims at the end, feeling as if you were walking on eggshells.

He looks at you momentarily before placing his view on the trees in front of you, “For not getting there earlier,” he mutters, as if disappointed with himself, “I went out because Hobi had told me to go check up on you, but,” he stays silent for a moment before continuing, clenching his jaw, “at first I sorta shrugged him off when he asked me, it wasn’t until he asked me second time that I actually went outside,” his voice shakes a bit and you notice that his eyes become slightly glossy, “and then a woman came running up to me rambling about someone about to get beaten up, but the last person I thought she was talking about was you,” he exhales loudly before continuing, trying his best to maintain his composure, “but either way I ran towards wherever she was pointing at, and that’s when I saw you on the floor,” his voice cracks, “and I just keep replaying everything in my head, and I just—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m just sorry and I felt like you deserved to know that,” he concludes, a tear falling from his face.

And maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe he just really did feel bad, but to see Jungkook this vulnerable was different to say the least. It was almost humanizing in some aspects.

Jungkook expected you to scream at him, to tell him that it was his fault you were put in that situation. That he could’ve prevented it from happening, that because of him you almost got beat to a bloody pulp.

No, in fact he doesn't expect you to, he wants you to. It’s what he deserves to hear from you. Had it not been for him and his ego, he would’ve gone out there the moment Hobi had asked him to, and you would’ve never had to deal with that drunk excuse of a human being to begin with. Or was the alcohol in his system just seriously getting to him because God did he feel sick.

“Jungkook it’s not your fault,” you begin, but Jungkook who's still looking at the trees, refuses to make eye contact. “Hey look at me,” you demand, tugging his hand in an effort to get him to look at you. When he does so, you continue, “That man was going to attack me whether you came or not because a weak man like that will attack the easiest target,” you state, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “It was no one’s fault but his, you hear me?” you squeeze his hand, “Not yours, not mine, not Hobi’s, not the lady, no one. Absolutely no one.”

More tears begin to fall from his bloodshot eyes, “You don’t get it y/n,” he shakes his head, “You don’t what that man could’ve done to you in that time I wasn’t there, you could’ve been killed for God’s sake,” he attempts to say it firmly, but his voice betrays him by whimpering in the end.

“But he didn’t!” you say, and without thinking you place his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here look! All because of you! Yeah you didn’t get there as early as you wished you could’ve, but you got there nonetheless! And if you hadn’t I probably would be sporting a big old black eye on my face and have one cheek bigger than the other right now. I’d look like one of those chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks!” you laugh at your own joke, and for the first time ever, Jungkook laughs with you. His last first starting off as a small chuckle but the harder you laughed, the harder he did. The beginning to what would be you always hearing his high pitched laugh around the apartment, but let’s not get too far ahead right now.

They say when a human is drunk, they muster up the courage to do something they’d never do sober, but have always thought of doing in the back of their mind. It was often why people would blame a bold text to an ex on being “drunk” despite not taking one sip of their tequila shot, or why some people would excuse cheating on being “drunk” despite knowing it was something they wanted to do for a very long time. They were looking for an excuse to finally do it. And so now sitting here, with his hand caressed across your face, goofy grins plastered on your faces, he felt tempted to just kiss you.

It was weird really, yeah he thought you were cute, in fact there were days he’d found you hot, but anything past physical attraction had never really crossed his mind. To him, you’d always been and currently were his roommate who he found both superficial and performative. 

The one who once attempted to hide her strawberry scented shampoo in her room during work, in hopes that he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it. The one who liked her jjolmyeon more on the sour side than the sweet. The one who occasionally made him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, despite him being asleep after a long night of work of barristering. The one who for some odd reason almost never watched Netflix on the TV, but instead would watch it on her laptop on the couch, thus rendering the TV completely useless.

And so to be here, finally appreciating the person that you were after what could’ve been a near-death experience was a bit of a wake up call. And yeah like you said, maybe he didn’t get here as early as he should’ve been, but he got here nonetheless. He smiles to himself, your words having a double meaning behind them.

But for now he wanted to preserve this feeling, because he knew he was drunk. He was so drunk that the tree behind you was beginning to look like it was moving towards him. And so rather than kiss you, he instead decides to simply tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, deciding that if he felt like this tomorrow morning when he was sober then it’d be something worth looking into.

“I’m telling you, if I ever see that man again—”

“It was like,” you count on your fingers, “9 months ago Jungkook, I doubt you even remember his face,” you cut off, patting his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, “you’d be surprised how good I am at remembering faces, so when I tell you I’m still waiting for the day I come across him again, I mean it!” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you sing,  “Hey at least something good came out of it,” you smile.

Jungkook looks at you with uncertainty, “Which is?”

Your small smile then becomes a toothy grin, “We became friends!” you exclaim excitedly, “temporarily at least,” you laugh.

April 2019.

It had been about two weeks since the incident at the club. Jungkook having completely avoided you since, and no you weren’t paranoid because originally you thought you were. It first started off with you not seeing him at all around the apartment, which you excused with you two having different work schedules like always. But then you’d notice he wouldn’t even drink the coffee you would make for him in the morning, it being left there on the counter for the entire day. 

And in the very rare moments you did manage to get a glimpse of him in the hallway either entering or exiting his room, the boy would completely avoid eye contact with you! But the final confirmation that told you he was avoiding you? He had bought his own shampoo and body wash for himself! Not just any kind, he bought an extra lather version of your own with exfoliating properties. And you didn’t if you could use it or not because, well because he was avoiding you! 

It wasn’t like you two kissed or anything! The most that happened was that you two shared a laugh! So then why was he avoiding you like the freaking plague? After a week of thinking about every possible reason he could be, you had given up. You’d accepted that you were back at square one with him, but it wasn’t like you were ever at square two to begin with. And so that’s why yesterday when Hobi told you he’d be going on a morning/afternoon hike trip on Saturday with Namjoon, you were skeptical on how Jungkook would manage to avoid you.

It was also why this morning in bed, when you heard what sounded like furniture being moved at 7 in the freaking morning, you were unsure about getting up and saying something or remaining in bed. Luckily you didn’t have to think about it for too long because you soon heard the sound footsteps coming closer to your bedroom door. As a result, you quickly threw yourself under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

It definitely had to be Jungkook who had just entered your room, the heavy footsteps acting as a signal to you that it was. Your eyes widen when you hear the sound of your drawer being pulled open, “What the hell did he think he was doing? Should you turn around and scare him? Hmm. No,” you think to yourself because soon enough you felt a hand gently shake your body.

“Y/N,”  he whispers, clearly in belief that you were asleep. You let him shake you around a little more, just to make your little “I’m just waking up” act a little more believable, “Y/N,” he repeats, and this time you begin to make groggy sounds. Actress of the Year Award : Check.

“Mm,” you hum, but you’re quickly jolted awake when you feel your covers get pulled off of you, “What are you—” you look up at Jungkook, who was dressed in complete workout gear. But what really had you concerned, was the workout clothing he had folded in his hands because well they were yours.

He tosses the matching pair of black leggings and sports bra, “Go change,” he sternly says, only causing you to look at him in further confusion.

“B-b-but-” Jungkook knows you’re about to not only complain, but ask many many questions. Because that’s just the type of person you are.

“Hobi told me you like buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, but that since yours always come out burnt and his come out too dull, that the only time you get to eat them is if you go to a breakfast restaurant,” you narrow your eyes at him, confused as to where this was leading to, “Well at the coffee shop I work at, we have a weekly Pancake Tuesday and well let’s just say a certain someone has been rated top pancake maker for 2 months now,” you quirk your brow in interest, continuing to listen, a smirk now on his face, “and let’s also say this certain someone has a stack of warm pancakes sitting there on the kitchen island, untouched and certainly uneaten.”

You quickly smile at what he was insinuating, “BUT you can only eat them if you get up, get ready and change in 5 minutes,” he looks at the clock, “starting now.” And in the blink of an eye you were up and running towards your restroom because certainly if that didn’t get you up and out of bed, he wasn’t sure what would.

Quickly you brush your teeth and fix up your hair a bit, curious to know what Jungkook had planned out. To think you thought he was avoiding you! Well he was … but that doesn’t matter anymore! Placing your shoes on you begin to make your way towards the living room, the thought of eating those buttermilk pancakes almost making your mouth drool. That was until you stepped into the living room, stopping dead in your tracks.

Your eyes glaze over everything, blinking veryyy slowly, in order to make sure you were seeing things correctly. Jungkook had transformed your living room into some kind of um … workout center? For boxing? He had everything from the red punching bag, the reflex bag, the speed ball, jump rope, mini dumbbells, and most importantly boxing mitts for some one-on-one training. Everything was an adequate enough size to fit in all into the living room, but not too big in a way that it couldn’t be stored in the extra closet you had in the hallway.

“Why did you—” Jungkook hands you a pair of shiny black boxing gloves, along with bandages.

“I’m going to teach you the basics of boxing,” he presses his lips together, “whether you like it or not,” he says.

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

“You don’t think what?” he looks at you in a way that tells you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m not really cut out for this kind of stuff,” you try to make an excuse for yourself anyway, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Because you have no experience, which is exactly why I’m going to teach you,” his brows draw together, a stern look on his face as he now makes eye contact with you, “You can’t just always expect someone to pop out of thin air and come to your rescue y/n, what happened two weeks ago was a mix of both good timing and sheer luck,” he sighs while pulling out a taser and pocket knife from his pocket, “and though this is helpful in many situations, you seem to forget to take these with you,” he scolds, “guess where they were the night at the club?” You stay silent, “the kitchen island,” he answers for you.

“Okay I get it, I get it,” you say, “I need to learn how to protect myself without using those,” you point to the items in his hand.

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he playfully pats your head, “so we’ll be doing this every weekend for the next eight weeks, from 7AM till 2PM. We might even throw an occasional weekday night in there if I don’t get out of work too late.”

“7AM?!” you shriek, “Oh no no no, you sir are crazy,” you protest, shaking your head in denial, “No amount of pancakes will have me waking up that early every weekend.”

“Oh come on! The more hours you do, the better you’ll get!” he bargains with you, catching you off guard by throwing his arm around your shoulder, your cheeks going red as a result.

“Jungkook,” you dramatically cry out, ready to stomp your feet on the floor like a little kid, the only thing preventing you was you not wanting the downstairs neighbors to come up and complain.

He tightens his grip on you, “Come onnnnn,” he sings, “I’ll let you use my new body wash with the exfoliating properties,” he teases you, having heard you complain to Hobi one morning about being unsure of whether or not you could use it. You truly were too kind for your own good, cause if the situations were reversed, Jungkook would’ve just gone ahead and used it.

You narrow your eyes at him once again, “More like you’re buying me one of my own!” you demand and he nods in agreement, “Also, where did you even manage to get all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as to how he managed to buy all this.

“Um let’s just say I have a buddy at the boxing gym who didn’t really need these anymore,” you stare at him suspiciously, but decide to shrug it off. You’d ask him more questions some other day, but for now all you wanted was to eat those pancakes!

Hobi opens the door to his shared apartment, exhausted from the hike he just had this morning and honestly ready to just hop into bed and sleep. That was until he saw the transformation of his living room in front of his very own eyes, his skin paling and mouth gaping in shock.

“What the—” he whispers, preparing to scream out your names like a parent walking in their house only to find it destroyed by their teenagers, but before he could the sound of something stops him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of soft snores.

Walking towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the long couch, a smile immediately appears on his face when he comes to see the view in front of him. You were on one side of the couch while Jungkook was on the other, both of your feet stretched out and touching in the middle, napping away. Hobi personally thought he was dreaming, this being a view he never thought he’d see.

Wanting to preserve the memory, he grabs his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app, snapping the photo in silence, tempted to edit and post the photo with little clouds above each other's heads and make up some witty caption. But he’d save it for some other day. For now, he was just happy you two were finally getting along.

“Ah I had forgotten how that photo came to be,” Jungkook laughs, looking at the photo on your Iphone screen, “you were tired from working out, while I was tired from having to watch you continuously mess around with the equipment,” he pokes fun at you. Not like it wasn’t true, that day you kept going back to the speed ball, aimlessly hitting it in hopes that at some point you’d magically become fast at hitting it like in the movies.

“Hey, I’m pretty decent at doing everything now,” you flash him a cheesy smile. After several weeks of consistent training and long hours, you were definitely at a point where you could adequately defend yourself from someone ranging from a small petite woman to around a medium sized man. Luckily, you haven't come across a situation that has required you to to do so nor do you ever hope to, but it was comforting to know that if something ever did happen, then you were ready. But, your taser and pocket knife would always be your first go to, no matter what.

“You’re…” Jungkook pauses, “okay,” he breathes, huffing a quiet laugh. Out of impulse you flash him the finger, showing off your freshly manicured fingers. “Aren’t you rude,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

You roll your eyes, “You’re the one who taught me,” you laugh, and Jungkook places his hand on his chest, looking at you with a dramatic offended look on his face.

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

“Yes you! How could I forget,” you look at him accusingly.

“No I taught you how to stop faking a smile, and to start putting a foot down people’s neck,” he shrugs, “not to go sticking out the middle finger,” he jokes, and you only roll your eyes again, grumbling a small  “Mm.”

May 2019.

To your surprise, you had been managing to consistently wake up and work out every weekend with Jungkook, with him even being able to up your usual workout plan at a drastic rate. You’d shed a couple of pounds and to your surprise could even see some muscle beginning to form, but today, well today was your monthly lazy day.

Lazy day was the one day of the month where you and Hobi would push everything off your schedule, from calling off of work, to making sure everything in the apartment was clean, and buying snacks the night before in order to make sure you wouldn’t have to step out of the apartment. It was usually picked the month before by either you or Hobi closing your eyes and randomly pointing somewhere on the calendar, and whatever day your index finger managed to land on would be the day. And well today was that day.

But when Hobi told you yesterday night that a family emergency was going to have to bring lazy day to a temporary halt because he had to drive back to Busan, which in itself was a three hour trip from Seoul, you had already called the day off weeks prior as your job wasn’t as lenient on last minute call offs. The contract you signed stating in small print, “any day off must be requested, sent in, and approved 2 weeks prior to the date said employee is asking for.”

And so this morning when Jungkook entered your room to find you completely knocked out with drool coming out of your mouth, he was surprised to say the least. On weekday mornings, he would almost always wake up to find himself alone in the apartment considering both you and Hobi have day jobs, so hearing snores come out of your room had definitely caught him off guard.

He debated on whether he should be annoying and wake you up and then force you to work out or be a nice roommate and make you breakfast. Let’s just say he didn’t choose the latter. Grabbing one of the stuffed animals that you weren’t hugging, he throws it at your head, a grunt coming out of your mouth after.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, morning voice in full effect, “let me sleep please,” you say, switching to the other side, in hopes that he’d leave.

“No, you need to work out,” he says, beginning to nag.

Turning around again, this time to face him, you look at him with your eyes half-way open, “Today’s lazy day,” you deadpan, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What the hell is, quote on quote, lazy day?” he asks, lifting a brow. Rubbing your eyes along with eye boogers in the corners, you begin to stretch your arms and legs, not caring if he was staring.

Sighing once you were ready to respond, you then answer, “Lazy day is the one day of the month that me and Hobi take a day off of work to well … be lazy,” he stares at you with an innocent look on his face, “butttttt,” a mischievous smile appears on your face, “since Hobi cancelled on me, now you’re going to be lazy partner for the day.” His face twists in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, go call the café, and tell em you’re taking the day off,” you smile, now getting up from bed.

“And why would I do that?” Jungkook asks, the question coming off a little harsher than intended, but you were quick to shrug it off, already accustomed to the occasional attitude.

“Becauseeeeee,” you sing, “When was the last time you’ve taken a day off, I mean look at you right now! You’re already dressed comfortably,” you eye him up and down, he was currently in work out clothing which for him consisted of an oversized grey sweater and joggers, “do you really wanna get all sweaty and then have to shower, change, and go to work… cause I don’t think you do,” you raise your eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner as he avoids eye contact with you.

His eyes look around your room, clearly thinking to himself. A lazy day huh? Hmm you did make a point, he really couldn’t remember the last time he’s just lounged around and done nothing, as he was always doing something whether it be working out, working, going out, etc.

He looks back at you once he’s made his decision, letting out a huff of air, “Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial the coffee shop, a tiny squeal coming from you.

“I thought lazy day meant no going out,” Jungkook complains while pushing the grocery cart around, following you and your need to go up and down each and every aisle at the store.

“It does, but since Hobi and I couldn’t go grocery shopping the night before,” you grab some strawberry lemonade from the freezer and place it in the cart, “someone has to help carry the groceries up the stairs,” you catch him rolling his eyes, “your eyes will get stuck up there if you keep doing that,” you comment, grabbing packaged ramen from the counter beside you.

“Yeah, Yeah—” Jungkook stares at what’s in your hands wide eyed, “No, no, no! What are you doing?” You jump in surprise, dropping the package on the floor.

“Wh-what?” your face flushes in surprise, his outburst completely catching you off guard.

“Shin Ramyun?! What happened to getting Paldo Bibimmyeon?! Do you have no loyalty?” he scrunches his face up, in clear distress at what he just caught you doing. At first you don’t think he’s serious, this being some stupid joke he was making, but once you got a glimpse of the stare he was giving you, you’d soon come to realize that he was not playing around at all.

“It’s be-be-because,” you begin to stutter under his scrutiny, “these are buy three, get two free,” you lopsidedly smile, an awkward laugh feigning from your lips.  He shakes his head, snatching the ramen from your hands and placing it on its original spot before then grabbing his Paldo Bibimmyeon.

“Choosing price over quality, are you crazy?” he mutters under his breath before pushing the cart past you and making his way to the checkout line, leaving you there momentarily flabbergasted.

Once you caught up to him you were ready to tell him something until you heard the sound of someone calling your name, “Y/N?” you turn around, surprised to see Jimin in the line next to you.

“Oh Jimin!” you smile, softly waving at the newly blonde-haired boy, his roots telling you that the hair job was recent. Jimin offers his hand out to Jungkook. Jungkook, at first hesitant, shakes it in return, “You remember Jimin, right? He was with us on New Years, he was supposed to come partying with us last time, but he flaked last minute,” Jungkook slowly nods remembering the boy wrapping his arm around you during the countdown while Jimin on the other hand raises his hands to his defense.

“Even a person like me can get burnt out every here and then,” he laughs, “but next time I’ll be sure to be on the dance floor,” he winks at you, his natural flirty personality making its appearance. Jungkook awkwardly coughs, pushing the cart forward to get your attention back in the moving line.

You feel your hands get a bit clammy, Jimin always being someone you did have a bit of a crush on, never pursuing anything because of your long-term friendship with him. But of course that didn’t mean he didn’t get an occasional blush out of you here and there. “So how have you been since the last time I saw you? It’s been quite a while—”

And just as you’re about to answer, Jungkook interrupts, “Y/N,” he says, nudging you to tell you that it was time to pay.

“Ah I guess I’ll just see you around then,” Jimin chuckles, waving a small goodbye.

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

“Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, unbeknownst to you, the green eyed monster was beginning to make its appearance. Any longer and horns would probably start sprouting out his ears.

Once you two finish paying and bagging everything, you walk towards Jungkook’s new black Hyundai which he had bought only a couple of weeks ago after months of what he calls “busting his ass” off and using most of his savings up for. You hum a tiny tune while helping him place all the bags in the trunk.

“So…” Jungkook awkwardly begins, second guessing whether he should continue asking the question he had in his mind before deciding to just do it anyway, “Is that like your boyfriend or something?”

Immediately you stop humming, staring at Jungkook wide-eyed, “Oh no, no!” you quickly deny, “No, No, no,” you repeat, shaking your head. The redness of your cheeks tell another story.

“Hm,” Jungkook mumbles, “sorta looked like it,” he deadpans before going to put the cart in its designated spot, leaving you there confused as to what that meant. 

After a couple of hours of lounging around in the apartment and binging Narcos: Mexico on the TV rather than your laptop because of Jungkook’s complaints, the two of you were now eating your ramen on the kitchen island, quietly seated on the tall chairs. The sound of Jungkook slurping his noodles filling the room.

“What did you mean by Jimin being my boyfriend or something?” you suddenly ask out of nowhere, the question having been on your mind for a majority of the day.

Jungkook takes a final gulp of his food before responding, “I don’t know,” he nonchalantly shrugs, “you were gawking at him like a schoolgirl seeing her crush in the hallway,” he says, “thought you two had something going on, or at least on your part,” he reiterates.  

“I did not stare at him like some schoolgirl!” you deny, taking offense to his analogy, “He’s j-jus—”

“J-just someone you clearly have a crush on,” he mocks your flusteredness, “I see and here a part of me thought it thought it was two-sided,” he smirks.

“It’s not sided on either way,” you protest, “Jimin is just a friend,” you clarify, putting your foot down.  

“How do you even know the dude?” he asks. He knew you and Hobi met during college, and that Hobi was in some club with Yoongi and Namjoon which explains how you met them. He also knew that Seokjin and Taehyung came into the picture after some college frat party, but Jimin, well he didn’t know too much about Jimin. Just that he clearly felt comfortable enough to have his arm around you during New Years.

“I met him during my first year of performing at Busan Arts College, that was before I transferred to Seoul National where I’d then meet Hobi,” Jungkook’s ears perk up, several questions now running through his head.

“An arts college? In Busan?”

“Yeah, like a school for dance majors, drawing, theatre, music, film, modelling, sports, interior design, animation, and et cetera,” you smile softly while explaining, “I was an art major, painting to be specific, and along the scopes of watercolors and abstractness.”

Jungkook hums, his curiosity still not completely fulfilled, “So why’d you transfer?” he asks the big question.

“Oh..” you know you shouldn’t be, but for some reason you are slightly taken back by his blunt question, “because..” you sigh, “um something happened that well um I just thought it’d be best to transfer, and well my math skills weren’t too rusty for the entrance exam and my credits were exceptional for transferring and so I just took the leap and left. Met Hobi, we became roommates, decided to stay roommates even after graduating and well now I’m an accountant.”

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, surprised that there was more to you than meets the eye. He would’ve never guessed that you were into painting, “I stayed in touch with Jimin, introduced him to my new group of friends and well yeah, that’s that,” you finish explaining, “He was a dance major, just in case you were curious,” you add, “He now works at a contemporary dance company here in Seoul, very deep with connections in the arts industry,” So that’s who Jimin was huh? Cool... but now Jungkook was much more curious about you.

“Do you ever paint?” he asks another question, completely finished with his meal and at this point only staying for the conversation. It was weird, had it been anyone else asking you these questions you wouldn't have dared entertain it any further, probably finding some way to maneuver out of it. But for Jungkook to ask whether it be from a place of nosiness or simple curiosity, hell maybe even boredom, for some reason you just didn’t mind.

“Um not really, not anymore at least, especially these days that work is beginning to pile up but,” you hesitate for a moment before continuing, “I still have some of my old work somewhere under my bed, probably in a storage box knowing me.”

“Can I see them?”

And just as you’re about to answer, your phone’s ringing sound goes off. The person calling? Jimin. You hesitate to answer, glancing at Jungkook who was staring at your phone, presumably reading the name. Once he does, he looks at you in a way that was asking, “Are you going to pick up?”

You click the green button to accept, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, unsure if it was you.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Um so I was actually meaning to call for quite a while,” Jungkook tries his best not to make it obvious that he’s listening in, “and so when I ran into you and your friend at the market it served as a complete reminder.”

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

“Well I was hoping we could catch up over some dinner, and then I could tell you something very important that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” From Jimin? “I was thinking this Saturday like at 7? I’ll pick you up.”  

“Oh um..” for some reason you look at Jungkook for advice, but he just stares at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah sure, why not?” you awkwardly laugh.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then! Byeeeee,” he sings before clicking, leaving you on the line. Did that call really just happen? Or were just imagining things?  

“I think—” you gulp, “I think I have a date this Saturday?” you say unsurely, a small dumbfounded smile beginning to appear on your face.

He notices the goofy smile beginning to appear on your face, before letting out a large exasperated breath and feigning his best smile. The forced smile comes out quite awkward, “With Park Jimin?” Park Jimin your college friend. Park Jimin, the successful contemporary dancer. Park Jimin, the one who looked like he came straight out of a magazine cover. That Park Jimin? Jungkook on the other hand could feel his eyebrow impulsively twitch in response, the green eyed monster creeping from behind, ready to make its return.

You nod your head yes, Jungkook now getting up from the chair, a negative energy now around him. “So much for it being a zero sided thing,” he mutters before practically throwing his dish into the sink and stomping out the kitchen, leaving you completely by yourself.

“Weird,” you think to yourself before heading off to bed.

Saturday had surprisingly arrived in the blink of an eye despite the extra hours of working out Jungkook had thrown in the morning. It was almost as if the boy wanted you to be on your date exhausted and halfway knocked out. Out of nowhere, deciding that today was the best day to start working on more leg targeted exercises, as a result your legs now felt like jell-o with every step you took.

“I’m gonna get going you guys,” you announce to the boys in the living room, who were currently on the couch watching an episode of One Piece.

Hobi turns his attention from the screen to look at you, immediately smiling at your outfit, “Ahh look at you,” he compliments, Jungkook on the other hand or silently watches you as you grab your keys from the countertop. “Doesn’t she look pretty Jungkook?” Hobi asks, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook remains silent, which oddly enough resulted in a heavy feeling in your chest. “Now she’s sad!” Hobi scolds, “Tell her she looks pretty,” Hobi pushes Jungkook’s shoulder this time.

“You look…” Jungkook pauses, and for a moment both you and Hobi hold your breath, for Jungkook’s mouth was quite unpredictable sometimes, “You look more than pretty,” he says with a warm look on his face before catching himself and going back to his usual expressionless face and turning his attention back to the screen. Hobi who looks like he’s about to tease the hell out Jungkook once you leave, struggles to hide the big grin on his face. While you, well you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat.  

“Well get going now! And don’t come back too late!” Hobi teases, loving the persona of acting like a parent a little too much.

Was thinking about your roommate regular for a date? Because that’s what you found yourself doing … a lot. From the moment you had stepped into Jimin’s car your immediate comparison was to Jungkook’s own car. Once he started driving, your mind went to how unlike Jimin who drove with both hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook liked driving with one. More specifically his left. 

And of course being on a date you expect conversation to be flowing all around even when you’re waiting on the food, but for some reason you had become so used to Jungkook always being silent until he was nearly finished with his food, that when Jimin began to make conversation while waiting definitely felt … odd for you to say the least. And don’t even get you started on what he ended up ordering. Well done steak?! Jungkook hated well done steak, preferring medium rare over anything. And so to say your roommate had been constantly on your mind this whole time was a bit of an understatement. 

Currently the two of you were walking on the bridge of a local park, the several number of lampposts and people all around you making it less scary than compared to that night at the park with Jungkook. “So Y/N how’s your year been so far?” Jimin asks, a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s been,” you pause, thinking about the person who came into your life only months ago, “it’s been pretty good.”

“That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he repeats, the two of you now sitting on a bench, “So I know I told you I had some important news,” he begins, “and it’s something I’ve been really wanting to talk to you about for a very long time,” he insinuates, “and so if you could close your eyes for a moment that’d be great,” you do as follows, and close your eyes, Your heart begins to race but it wasn’t the same kind of racing you felt that night at the park with Jungkook. It was more of a “what am I doing here?” kind of nervousness so to speak. Nonetheless you shrug the feeling off.

Jimin, who was originally supposed to be getting an exhibition flyer out of his coat, notices that you have what looks to be a leaf in your hair. Deciding that it was bothering him too much he goes and reaches for it, surprised to be in contact with your lips seconds later. Quickly he pulls away, staring at you wide eyed. Both of your faces now tomato red, as he struggles to form words.

Eyes still widened, he pulls out the folded paper from jacket, once unfolded it reads, “Seoul City’s Annual Public Art Exhibition with a special performance by Seoul’s Contemporary Dance Academy choreographed by Park Jimin.”

“Oh my God—” you manage to breath out, coming to the realization that kissing you was not his attention.

He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, yeah, I’m this year’s choreographer for the city's art exhibition and well I managed to get you a slot so that you could have your very first art piece exhibited,” Jimin feigns an awkward smile, “You know since you’re a painter first before an accountant.” You, still hung up on what was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life, stare at him in complete silence. Everything barely registering in your head.

“Y/N…” he begins the dreadful pity speech by grabbing your hand, “I um,” he lets out an awkward chuckle before continuing, “I like you, I do, but not in that way…”

In the movies, this is where you’re supposed to feel as if your world was crashing down on you, the part where your heart is supposed to sink in complete sadness and you go home a complete crying mess. But rather than feel any of those things, you instead feel …. relief? Yeah, you kissing the boy was embarrassing, but it wasn’t something that was gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. Maybe for a week or two, but not definitely not the rest of your life.

Jimin wonders what’s going through your mind, the apparent smile that suddenly grew on your face telling him that things were going to be just fine, “I sorta um had my eyes on someone else in our friend group…” and with that he gets your attention because you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Taehyung,” you say, and Jimin silently nods, a laugh emitting from both of your lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, that Jungkook dude seemed like was going to lunge at me any second over there at the supermarket,” Jimin says, “I thought you two were a thing at first.”  

You laugh in disbelief, “Me and Jungkook?” you say, scrunching your face.

“Um yeah, it’s not really something shocking,” Jimin laughs, “I mean you two definitely looked like a couple that day, very much doing um couple-like things. Maybe not affectionate wise but I don’t know there were definitely looks and glances being exchanged. But if you say there’s nothing between you two then who am I to argue?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly, who are you to argue,” you dramatically snarl, Jimin throwing his head back in laughter.

“So y/n what do you say about participating in the art exhibition? You know you want toooo,” Jimin sings, pouting his lips. You had forgotten about that for a moment, the embarrassment of the kiss completely fazing you out.

“Oh I don’t know,” you nervously say, you hadn’t seriously painted in such a long time, that chapter in your life being a closed book for quite some time now.

“But y/n—” Jimin begs, “This could be the moment you’ve been waiting for, there’s going to be a lot of professional artists there along with buyers.”

“I just—” something was holding you back from saying yes. Was it fear? Maybe. All you knew was that you couldn't dive into something that you had long given up on, “I don’t think I can,” you ultimately say.

Jimin frowns, “You sure? I can’t hold the slot for too long, and well I was so sure you’d say yes..” You sigh before nodding, confirming that you were saying no.

“Ah okay,” Jimin says, completely understanding, “Come on let’s get you home,” to which you nod, a small sad smile on your face.

By the time you got back home, you wondered if the boys’ were asleep already, hoping at least one of them was awake to talk to, more specifically Hobi, for he always knew what to say when you needed comfort. And so when you opened the door to find the TV still on, but no one in the living room, you were confused to say the least.

You walk towards Hobi’s room, crack open the door, and peep your head in only to find him sound asleep. Did that mean Jungkook was up? Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the TV… with your curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to go Jungkook’s room and check if he was there. With your hand on the knob, you begin to twist it, slowly opening the door until a voice scares you from behind, “What are you doing?” he harshly whispers causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you whisper as well, closing his door immediately, “I-I-I thought you were,” you point at his door, unable to complete your sentence.

“I was peeing,” he says, “Did you not see the light on?”

Shaking your head no, you ask, “What are you even doing up this late?”

Jungkook awkwardly stammers, “I um, I just couldn’t sleep,” he says instead of admitting that secretly he was waiting for you to arrive, just to make sure you were safe. Nothing else of course, not like he wanted to know how your date went… “Why are you going into my room without my permission?” he questions.

You scoff, “You always go in mine!” you try your best to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake up a grumpy Hobi, “Why can’t I go in yours?”

“Because you’ve never told me anything against me going into yours,” he argues, “Just because we’re um,” he pauses, struggling to say the word that comes next, “friends… doesn’t mean you get to go snooping around.” What the hell was he hiding in there that you couldn’t go in?

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you complain, ready to cross your arms and complain like a kid, that is until he flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow,” you cry, “What was that for?” you groan, and he shrugs in response.

“I don’t know I just felt like doing it,” he smirks, “your forehead just looks so … flickable.” You narrow your eyes, quickly flicking his in return, garnering an “ow” from him as well.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that,” he says, and quickly but also softly because you didn’t want to stomp too hard on the floor, you run back to the living room, the two of you now chasing each other around, index fingers ready for some more flicking. Maniacal fits of giggles filling the room as you begin to throw pillows at each other, running around the kitchen island like little kids. 

Jungkook, despite being the faster runner, was the one being chased. The closer you got to him, the further you began to reach your arm for his t-shirt, your fingertips always grazing the bottom. But once you finally did, something very unexpected happened. You tripped.

Soon enough, you were hands down on the floor, Jungkook below you, a casualty of your fall. The two of you now facing each other, chests heaving from your game of tag, laughing uncontrollably. Not exactly caring if Hobi, the neighbors, or the rest of the world could hear you.

Gradually, you get off him and instead lay on the kitchen floor right next him, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. A comfortable silence in the air. If someone would’ve told you at the beginning of the year that you and Jungkook would be playing tag in the apartment like little kids, you would’ve told them they were crazy. But yet here you were, heart pounding out of your chest, wanting this moment to remain for as long as it possibly could.

“So…” Jungkook continues to stare at the ceiling, “How’d your date go?”

“It was…” you use the only word that could properly describe it, “embarrassing,” you giggle, recalling what happened. Jungkook looks at you, eager to say the least, to know why.

“Let’s just say I ummm … took some signs completely wrong,” you awkwardly chuckle, “or long story short, I sorta kissed him and well let’s just say he has his eyes on someone else in our friend group.”

Was it wrong for Jungkook to feel happy? Happy that you two didn’t have insane chemistry, become boyfriend and girlfriend, and live happily ever after after like in the fairytales. Of course he wasn’t happy that it was you who went for the kiss, nor that it was who you got rejected, but it was better than you coming in here raving on about Park Jimin, no offense to Jimin.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s fine really,” you laugh, “what’s weird was that I didn’t really feel as heartbroken or as sad as I thought I’d be,” you shrug, “I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our friendship or anything. If anything I’m sad about what he offered... “

“What did he offer?” Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but you’re quick to shake your head and sigh.

“He offered me a spot at Seoul’s annual art exhibition, I guess since he choreographed a dance, he was able to talk them into giving him a spot and well I said no,” Jungkook frowns, wondering why you didn’t take the offer, “I just couldn’t see myself doing it… I haven’t painted in what feels like forever and to then have it be seen by thousands of people, yeah I can already feel the anxiety from that. One bad comment and I’m going to have to fake a smile the whole time and cry when I get home.”

Jungkook scoffs, “Who cares what others think? Screw them. I know that it’s rich coming from me, but if you think those people who may insult you or throw some sly comment to get under your skin are better than you in any way then let me tell you, they’re not. And who says you have to take their shit? Stop feeling as if you have to always put on some fake smile for people in order to spare their feelings and start looking out for your own,” Jungkook sits up, looking down on you. “So you know what you’re going to do?”

You stare at him in silence, murmuring a tiny “what?”

“You’re going to text Jimin right now and tell him you’re taking that spot,” Jungkook demands, “and if you don’t then I’ll call him myself and do it for you.” Now it’s your turn to sit yourself right up, waiting for a sign in his eyes that told you he was purely kidding. “Well what are you waiting for?” He eyes your pockets, waiting for you to reach for your phone.

“Jungko—”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you’re not feeling sad because you know you’re going to regret saying no to the opportunity,” Jungkook’s voice raises without meaning to, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I don’t have to see a single painting of yours to know that you’re talented, and if people can’t see that then honestly it’s their loss.” You feel your heart swell with every word, slowly pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook gets up from his position, offering his hand to help pull you up. Once he pulls you, he walks towards the fridge, and takes two pints of ice cream out the freezer. Your face lights up as you watch him get two spoons from the drawer, “Don’t hold it against me, but I bought these after you left just in case you came back a crying mess,” he avoids eye contact with you while handing you your pint, “But heartbreak or not, someone has to eat these. So come on, send that text so we can watch some One Piece.”

“Imagine you would’ve never convinced me to do the art exhibition,” you laugh, gently nudging Jungkook.

“Mm though it could’ve prevented a lot of things, the good definitely outweighed the bad so…” Jungkook pauses, “I guess it just goes to show you have to go through the downs in order to reap the rewards of the up.”

“Now look who's getting all wordy on me,” you tease.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me more than I’d like to admit,” he pretends to be annoyed by dramatically sighing but a laugh soon follows.

June 2019.

After texting Jimin that you had changed your mind, you began to work on the painting you had brainstormed for the art exhibition, first sketching it out and now well on your way to starting your quite large painting. 

Honestly, pulling out your old art tools and portfolio from years ago was nostalgic, bringing you a genuine sense of completeness. To have a decent paying job, the best of friends, and now being able to practice the hobby you had once considered turning into a career was everything you could ask for. But what made you feel even warmer inside was just how supportive Jungkook was of the whole thing, always buying and bringing back art materials for you to use, including different colors of paint. Though most of the time they weren’t really what you considered the best quality, it was the thought that counted.

After your boxing lessons with him, you’d usually go straight to your room to begin working on it, for the first time since you stopped painting feeling actual motivation and creativity flowing through you. Life was good. Not good, amazing.

That was until today, when you noticed Jungkook hadn’t woken you up for your usual Saturday workout. “Maybe he overslept?” you think to yourself, probably had a tiresome night at work yesterday. Slowly you make your way outside his door, gently knocking on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing. Not a groan, not a “let me sleep”, absolutely nothing. You knock one more time just to make sure, your shoulders dropping once you realize he wasn’t going to open the door. Remembering what he said about entering his room, you decide that if he was having a bad day, it’d just be best to leave him be for the meanwhile.

Things didn’t really start getting alarming until you and Hobi both noticed that he skipped breakfast. His door remaining absolutely closed the whole morning and day, not a peep of sound coming out.

“Hobi, I’m starting to get worried,” your eyes glimmer with concern, “He hasn’t come out all day.”

“I know I am too, but—” Hobi sighs, “I don’t want to pressure him into—” the sound of a door opening quickly grabs your guys’ attention, the two of you silently watching Jungkook come out of his room. The time on the clock reading 6PM, the sun outside beginning to set. Carefully you watch Jungkook come into the kitchen, grabbing nothing more than a water bottle and a couple of snacks.

There’s a redness to his eyes that you’d never seen before, almost as if he had been sobbing. His under eyes were in the early stages of becoming puffy, and his skin seemed a lot paler than usual. You feel your heart sink when the two of you, for a mere second, make eye contact. Quietly he begins to make his way back to his room, but not before you offer him some food.

“Y/N—” Hobi tries to stop you, but you continue nonetheless.

“I made japchae,” you say, “I even added extra mushrooms like how you always like it,” he stares at you in silence, a cold look to his eyes before ignoring you and returning to his room. The door slamming shut once he does. If your heart was sunk already, then it was definitely stomped and ripped into pieces after that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, feeling Hobi’s stare from the side. Suddenly the volume of the TV is lowered and you already know what's coming, “Y/N…” you hear Hobi say, a sad tone behind his voice.

“Hobi don’t,” you cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to receive his pity, “I just don’t feel like hearing it right now.”

Hobi ignores you, knowing you were just putting up a wall as a defense mechanism, “You know he didn’t mean it,” he says, “he’s probably just having a rough day that’s all.”

“Even if he is, why does he still feel the need to just keep it to himself, why can’t he see that he can trust us, that he can trust me? Sometimes it feels like he knows a lot more about me than I know about him—” you rant, trying to keep your voice down so that Jungkook doesn’t hear you from his room.

Hobi sighs, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket and keys from the counter, “Put on your shoes,” he says, and you look at him confused before doing as he says and following him outside. The two of you then climb up the fire ladder of your apartment and onto the roof, the view of the stars sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay now sit—” he commands, which you do anyway.

“Why are we even out here?” you question, regretting not bringing your own sweater.

“Because I’m going to tell you a story, and well I don’t want Jungkook hearing us,” he says, making himself comfortable in the spot next to you, “You ready?”

Silently you nod your head yes, and so he continues.

“When I was a kid, I was what you could call ...nerdy … so to speak,” he chuckles, “I had those big ol glasses that made you look like you had fish eyes, I liked reading the Harry Potter books, I didn’t like playing sports like the rest of the boys in my elementary school did, and well in general I just wasn’t like a lot of them,” he pauses to look up at the sky, continuing once he was ready, “Now when you’re in elementary, kids won’t directly bully you, but instead they’ll make little teasing remarks because well ...we’re kids. We don’t know the big curse words yet or what we’re capable of physically. And so as a kid I’d let those jokes slide, I’d let their insults become the label put on me, not knowing the true maliciousness behind it.”

You feel your eyes become glossy, knowing where this was leading, “But the older you get, the more you begin to learn and well soon enough the teasing became full on bullying by middle school. The older kids would make these nicknames for me, and constantly call me them before, during, and after school. Occasionally even following me for a couple of blocks when walking home just to remind me that they had power over me,” Hobi’s voice begins to shake a little, “and well I didn’t know how to speak up for myself, let alone defend myself and so it just became a regular occurrence until on a certain day in middle school,” he pauses, taking a big breath. 

“I had been walking home from school that day, and for some reason that day I decided I wanted to take a different route back home, probably because I was hoping the kids who would bully me would decide not to follow me. But boy was I was wrong,” he feigns a laugh, “The route I had taken was right next to the Suyeong River, and well I think it’s important to note that I didn’t know how to swim at the time. I think I personally choose not to remember too much, but one moment I was walking and the next I had my face being pulled in and out of the water, the sounds of laughter being the thing I remember the most from that day,” Hobi closes his eyes, his voice cracking as he continues, “And I just remember thinking how could kids my age be so viscous?” tears begin to silently fall from his eyes, his hands slightly shaking at the recollection of the memory, “I thought this was it, this is the end of the line for me.”

“It wasn’t until I felt the release of my hair and the touch of someone pulling back that the nightmare came to an end,” Hobi wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “When I finally managed to get some kind of focus on my vision, I’d come to see the boy who was pushing me into the water completely knocked out the floor while the rest of his buddies were running to who knows where,” The scene from the club begins to replay in your head, remembering the person who had gotten there just at the right time.

“And then there was Jungkook, the boy I’d never seen a day in my life , helping me fix myself along with looking for my glasses even after having knocked out that boy with his bare hands. After that me and Jungkook became the best of friends, like actual genuine friends and the bullying had completely stopped. I’d also come to find out that Jungkook was a boxer, and not a casual one, like an “I practice every weekday, weekend, day, and night.” kind of one. He was aiming to go pro, and so he had to put in the time for it. His parents were supportive of it as well, as I think his dad saw the most potential in it.”  

Hobi takes a breather before continuing, finding yourself completely immersed in the story, “And so when our senior year came around and I had gotten accepted into SNU, I asked Jungkook what he was planning on doing now that we were graduating. And well that’s when he told me that had gotten an offer to train and compete in the states, where there’d be a lot more tougher competition and where he could really develop the natural talent he had. So on graduation day we had our teary farewell, and I remember telling him that if he ever needed anything and I truly meant anything, that he’d know where to find me.”

“So when years later I received a call at about 2 in the morning, asking if he could redeem the favor he had once done for me so long ago, I knew I couldn’t say no. I don’t know what happened in the states, and I don’t bother to ask him because I know that the day he’s ready to tell me or you, he will. Whatever did happen over there, changed him though. He came back a colder, more rude person, and honestly I thought he’d be like that forever until he started to get to know you,” Hobi smiles, “That’s when I began to see glimpses of the Jungkook I knew from high school again, the one who liked to mess around all the time, and never took himself too seriously.”

“You see y/n, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know that Jungkook isn’t like us in the way of opening up when he feels sad or mad. He’s used to being the one doing all the protecting and so when he finds himself in a place where he’s overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness or anger, he gives the cold shoulder or becomes someone who isn’t like him at all, in order to avoid talking about it. I think it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know the burden he carries. To sum it up y/n, Jungkook is the definition of when it rains, it pours … but when it shines, you’ll completely forget it ever rained to begin with,” Hobi pats you softly on the shoulder, “So the best thing you can do right now is let the storm play itself out, so that then you can be there when the rainbow comes back out.”

If only you had listened.

“Ahh so it was Hobi who told you everything,” Jungkook scrunches his face.

“No duhhhhh,” you sing, “Who else could have?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought you just magically figured it out on your own,” you’re unsure on whether he’s being sarcastic or not so all you is narrow your eyes at him, deciding to stay silent than make yourself look stupid.

“Mm either way Hobi made a BIG mistake telling me,” you laugh, “because he should've known my nosiness was only going to lead to problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Jungkook teases, resulting in a light smack to the shoulder.

July 2019.

It had been about a month since Jungkook’s change in behavior, his cold demeanor reminding you of when he first moved in months ago. The only time he’d ever leave his room was to go to work, use the restroom, or get his food to take to his room. You had been working on your painting whenever you got the chance, a distraction from the constant concern you felt for Jungkook. You know Hobi said to give it time, but how long would it be until Jungkook decided to finally open up? He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he?

You missed the Jungkook you had gotten to know in the last couple of months, the one who showed you that the tough wall he put up around him was nothing more than an act. That behind it, he was a complete sweetheart who liked drinking his banana milk and watching One Piece whenever he had the chance, the one who constantly liked to steal your things from your room and then replace them with an even better version, the one whose laugh sorta reminded you of Elmo but was still absolutely adorable, and lastly the one who you had found constantly by your side and falling further in love with every waking moment.

Not like, but love. You had come to realize it while you were in bed one night, your only thoughts being thunk all relating to Jungkook in some way. Remembering the number of times this month where you’d find yourself outside his bedroom door, inches away from knocking, knowing that all you needed was for him to open up the door at least once and you’d know everything was going to be okay. Sadly, you’d always find yourself chickening out, Hobi’s words always ringing in your head to serve as a reminder. Jungkook needed space. And as much as you wanted to run up to him and give him a tight hug, you knew you had to respect his boundaries.

So then why was it that today, when you found yourself painting and missing a certain color, a tiny voice in your head was telling you that maybe Jungkook had it… Realistically you knew it wasn’t possible, you had kept track of all your colors from the moment you started, but damn was that voice convincing. 

Getting up from the floor, you walk out into the living room, checking around to see if it was there. Hobi, who was currently taking a nap on the couch, seemed completely at peace.

You check his room to see if he has it, but your efforts were to no avail. The only place it had to be was Jungkook’s room. It had to be. At least that’s what you were telling yourself so could finally have an excuse to knock on his door. Making your way to his room, you prepare to knock, your knuckles lightly tapping against the wooden door. But to your surprise the door creaks open, no one presumably in the room…

You could’ve sworn Jungkook was home? You double check the restroom, making sure it wasn’t going to be an incident like last time, but this time he really wasn’t there. The voice of reasoning versus temptation now had you completely torn. You remember the day Jungkook first moved in, and how secretive he got over you seeing whatever it was inside his boxes, and the night after your date and how stern he was about you not entering.

Slowly you push open the door of his room, completely forgetting Hobi’s words and deciding that it was either now or never. You knew you were a pushing boundary that you shouldn’t be, but a part of you also felt like it had to be done. Maybe if you found out what was bothering Jungkook so much, you could help him.

Honestly, you weren't too sure on what you expected when you first entered. Considering how secretive Jungkook was about it, you sorta assumed the room would be all black and have a whole bunch of weird things hanging across the walls, but surprisingly his room looked completely normal. The bed covers were a navy blue color that matched with some of the artwork he had hung across the beige colored apartment walls. The drawers were plain and boring while his desk looked like any other ordinary desk:  stacked with random sketches, pens, One piece manga, and printed webtoons. If this is all he was hiding, then it really no made sense because there was literally nothing to hide….

That was until you saw the closed closet door, and once you opened it, you were blown away. For what was behind those closet doors was an entire memorabilia of awards, belts, photos, and trophies which you assumed were all Jungkook’s, newspapers from the states with headlines that spoke of how amazing Jungkook was. Many of them include the words “rising”, “prodigy”,  and “the next big thing”. Your eyes try to take everything in all in one go, but it was just so much. There were papers that were written about him even when he was a kid, pictures of his with several belts around his waist amazed you. This was insane.

But it wasn’t until you noticed the newspaper headline of the paper hung right in the center of the practical shrine that the smile from your face fell, as it read, “Prodigy Jeon Jungkook, K.O’d in Round 12 against Brandon Star.” You look at the date, and everything begins to start making sense. The date which read December 1, 2018, only a couple of weeks prior to your first meeting with him at New Years, the churning feeling in your stomach only becoming heavier as you read the newspaper next to it. “Rising Star, Jeon Jungkook, disappears. Where is he now?” it reads, and as you skim through the different articles, the whole memorabilia shrine begins to make sense. Jungkook didn’t have this here for the purpose of maintaining old memories, but for the purpose of constantly reminding himself of what he once was and how he ended up failing, torturing himself to say the least. It’d explain his pent up anger when you first met him, the scar was still fresh.

Grabbing one of the trophies from the memorabilia desk, you observe the glass material and admire its fine detail, Jungkook’s name written in cursive underneath the title. Slowly your fingers graze over it, whispering his name to yourself, “Jeon Ju—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice harshly interrupts, scaring you and causing you to jump. The slippery trophy in your hands falling to floors, several pieces of glass now shattered onto the floor. Turning to face the owner of the voice, your heart stops when you find Jungkook staring at the floor, an expressionless look on his face.

“I—” your brain completely freezes, only staring at his balled up fist which was becoming more red with every passing second.

“I told you—” he closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room,” he finally snaps, his enraged voice echoing across the walls of the room, “So then why, why the fuck are you in here right now!” he moves towards you, his face now becoming red in anger. Not caring whether he was stepping on glass or not.

“I know but—”

He cuts you off, “But fucking what? There’s no reason you should even be in here right now y/n! None!” he screams, his rage only furthering with every word. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you stammer to defend yourself. “How would you feel like if I barged into your room and destroyed something personal of yours, huh?”  

All you can do is stare at him, never seeing him this enraged before, the sight definitely a scary one, “Answer me goddamit!” he yells, his fist still balled up, holding himself back from punching anything. He looks down at the broken glass one more time, his chest now heaving in anger before storming out the room.

Quickly you follow him, chills going down your spine when you see him turn to your room.

“What are you—” you begin, but it’s too late. Everything happens in slow motion, from the fist being thrown to the sound of the canvas you’d been working so long on cracking, several holes and rips appearing soon after. You look at the scene in front of you in silence, shock running through your veins, and the need to vomit stronger than ever before. Jungkook breathes heavily, staring at what he’s just done, not feeling a single ounce of remorse.

The closing feeling in your throat is one that’s too overwhelming, but the anger you were now feeling was even stronger, “What is wrong with you,” you whisper, tears falling down from your eyes, a look of terror overtaking your face, “What is wrong with you!” you scream, lips trembling as your voice breaks at just how loud you were. Jungkook feels his blood run cold, taken back by your sudden outburst.

“I have been nothing but kind to you since the day we’ve met, nothing but!” you yell, hot tears uncontrollably falling from your hysteria.

Jungkook scoffs, yelling right in return, “Do you want some kind of reward for that? Is that it? Is that all this is? Another ego booster for you so you can pat yourself on the back and say you’re a good person!”

“I don’t need anything from anyone! Especially not from someone like you,” you spit, Jungkook’s jaw clenching at your response.

“Ah I knew that nice ol princess act was nothing more than mere bullshit,” he bitterly laughs, “finally had enough of your whole little treat everyone with kindness moral?” he mocks you.

“It’s not a fucking act, I’m just not a miserable person like you!” you grit your teeth, the temptation to throw something at him at an all time high.

“No you just live in this big old fantasy bubble that’s got you believing that kindness solves all the world's problems!”

“Yeah well it’s better than thinking that being a fucking prick to the rest of the world gets you anywhere, I mean look at where you’re at now!” you yell, knowing you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t care at all anymore. The ice was shattered the moment he destroyed your painting, “I understand that I made a mistake going into your room, but you don’t have to take the rest of your miserable life out on me! You think everyone around you wants to be some kind of punching bag all the time for you?” the veins in your neck begin to pop out, and you almost feel as if your chest was going to physically explode at any moment, “How dare you come in here and treat everyone around you like complete shit all because you’re living a sad tragic life!”

“That’s not true,” he snarls, a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t it?” you scoff, “You’ve done it since the first day you got here, and so let me do the favor of telling you the truth and giving you a goddamn reality check! We’re all sick and tired of it! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you get to make everyone around you as well! And let me tell you, I’ll be damned if I let someone like you make me just as rotten as yourself,” and for a small second you see the hurt across Jungkook’s face, and you think maybe you’ve gone too far. 

Maybe this could’ve all been prevented had you never entered his room. But then you think to yourself that no, this was bound to happen. This was always going to happen whether you liked it or not. The questions had always just been: when was it going to happen and what was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? By now both of your chests are heaving, and there’s a silence that fills the room. Time acts as nothing more than an illusion.

“Is that what you really think?” he says, a cold hardened expression on his face again, “That I make you miserable?” You look at the destroyed painting on the floor, a symbol that despite building and making something so beautiful, all it took was one slip of the finger for it all to go down the drain. Without saying anything, you slowly nod to him, the emptiness in your heart acting as a driving force.

“What the—” Hobi walks in the room, dazed and confused, “What the fuck is going on in here?” He asks, but the two of you remain silent, continuing to stare at one another.

That is until Jungkook breaks away from the stare, muttering a small “nothing,” under his breath, walking out of the room and going back to his own, the door loudly slamming shut.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance, a tiresome expression on your face.

“Hobi,” you shake your head, “Just leave me alone!,” you snap at him, but it comes out more as a plea than a demand, voice completely weary. Hobi stares at you for a moment before doing so, gently closing the door when making his way out. Once you hear the sound of the door close, you squat down to the floor, fingers grazing the painting you’d work so hard on, a muffled sob finally escaping from your lips.

a/n: whew! originally this was supposed to be nothing more than a small drabble, but as i kept writing it just ended becoming this monstrous of a fic that i had to split into two lmao. hopefully i didn’t make the switches between present day and the past too confusing for y’all.  part two will probably be up by next friday, once my finals week is over :)) any messages, anons, comments, reblogs, and like are appreciated! see y’all next time! 💞