#sorry to be gross but you know when your mouth fills up w saliva before you throw up? that but six times in ten minutes and you never hurl

[sodrippy]

for the 547282747th time. i cant believe i used to live like this every day 😭

[bitchassbucky]

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

[trojc-rewrite]

The Rise of Jimmy Casket Rewrite, Chapter 6

TW - grotesque imagery, gore

——————————————————————————

The morning had gone pretty smoothly, downing eggs and water early in the morning so Ghost could rent a car and bring Toast to the nearest walk-in clinic, and then brought him to a nearby hospital for stitches. The wound needed at least 4, and Toast was grossed out by how the stitches looked in his skin, the way his wound felt tight whenever he moved his leg. It made his face wrinkle in grimace.

Toast sat in the car on the way back from the hospital, still recovering from the anasthasia, everything felt light and yet so heavy, his eye lids threatened to fall, and he was sure he was making absolutely no sense whatsoever cause Ghost chuckled at everything he said.

Some weird pop song played on the radio, filling a silence that Toast didn’t even register was there. It wasn’t until Ghost started talking that he realized the quiet.

“Hey, Toast.” Toast turned to him, his head felt weird when he moved, like instead of a brain he had a bowl of cold soup in his head. But he forced himself to look serious, he was starting to calm down from the anasthasia anyways, so he could manage something of the nature.

“Yes, sir?” He mumbled out, it took a lot to form an articulated sentence, one that actually made sense.

Ghost parked in the hotel parking lot, sighing a small bit.

“Toast, I just want to apologize again. I am so sorry for leaving you to deal with P.I.E, it was such a shitty move on my part.” Ghost said.

“No, no sir, it's all right.” He managed. Ghost shook his head.

“No, it’s not.” He said, frustrated. He grabbed Toasts hands in his own, sighing. “Look, let me apologize because we both know this never happens. I’m sorry, for being such a shitty friend and boss. You, whether I like or not, are now kinda the leader. And I’ve been feeling like shit for leaving you to deal with it. I’m sorry.”

Toast blinked, kind of shocked. He blinked, not really knowing what to say.

“I accept your apology sir. But now that we’re all together, we need to start working as a team. And, if I may add this in, you might want to apologize to Spooker and especially Colon for leaving sir.” Toast said quietly.

Ghost raised his brow, staring at him with his green eye.

Toast nodded, “They were very hurt when you left. They look up to you. Colon was just telling me about his frustrations with you just the other night. “

Ghost looked lost, “But what would I say?”

Toast smiled at him. “You’ll know when the time comes. It will be genuine.”

Ghost licked his teeth nervously, before nodding. “Okay, lets go get Colon and Spooker. A walk will do us good.”

Ghost helped Toast up to the hotel room, getting ready for the walk. It had been a while where Toast could just relax, and he was hyped for a nice walk.

They walked late into the night, watching the sun go down behind the trees as the sky melted from blue, to purple and gold. The moon hung high over head, so clear and bright. It casted silver shadows across the forest floor, leaves dappling the light.

Toast was walking with Colon, the tall man helping him support himself. He also took a few times to point out an animal or two.

One time, a doe had crossed their path with a fawn in toe and they all had to pretend they weren’t there. Afterwards, Spooker had almost melted into the ground, crying about how cute it was.

The leaves above them ruffled, a cold gasp of air rolling over them. Toast smiled, feeling refreshed.

A small stream trickled near them, a few leaves following the current. Frogs hopped over the rocks, moonlight reflecting off the cloudy water.

Spooker turned to the stream, his eyes round in awe. “Oh my God! Frogs!” He whispered excitedly. He knelt down, his knees squelching in mud. He held out his hand, reaching out for a frog. The frog jumped into the water before he could catch it.

He turned to another, and another, until finally. “Aha! I got one!” He whispered, picking up the frog gently. The green amphibian let out a small ribbit, hopping around in his palms.

“I’m gonna name you, Fredrick.” He cooed, petting the amphibians back. Ghost made a disgusted face.

“Ew- you’re naming it after yourself?” He said, raising a brow. Spooker stuck out his tongue, gently putting the frog back in the grass.

“No. My name is Fred.” He emphasized, “The frog's name is Fredrick.”

Ghost rolled his eye jokingly, a smile cracking onto his face ever so slightly.

“Well I for one, love Fredrick.” Toast said with a smile, watching the frog hop away.

“Thank you T-“

Spooker was cut off by a loud rustling noise, coming from far ahead. Toast snapped his head up, glaring into the dark. His fight of flight senses kicked in, his only instinct to protect his friends.

He limped forwards, being careful not to step on any twigs, or anything else that would cause a loud noise. Moss squished under his feet, splashing quietly.

Ghost hissed from behind him, “No, Toast!” He whispered. Toast ignored him, pulling out his gun from his side holster.

He entered a thicket, wet leaves pointed at him. He felt uneasy, and jumped as a bug flew past his face.

Then, with the speed of a snake, something lunged from the bushes with a wide, yellowed smile.

He was pushed to the ground, his gun knocking out of his hand. He rolled over, pain blasting throughout his body.

He grabbed it, sitting up and fired. The shot rang out, Toast’s ears rang with silence, the world going quiet.

The shadowy figure stood in mist that seemed to come from nowhere, eyes staring at him from the fog.

It loomed over him, walking forward.

“Hey Toaster. It’s been a while!” It whispered excitedly, it’s red eyes wide.

It leaned forward, it’s face close to his. It smelled like rotting flesh; the acrid smell hitting him in the face. Sour and rotten.

It’s skin was pale, cheek bones exposed. It had matted, dark brown hair. Dirt covered it’s cheeks, a thin lipped smile crossed it’s face.

Toast blinked, shuffling away from it.

“Who- what?” He asked. Confusion clouded Toast’s gaze. ‘Who is this?’

The figure frowned. “I can’t believe you don’t remember me! But, it’s been a while since I’ve been in this form. So allow me to introduce myself.”

He stuck out his pale hand, long bloody fingernails pointed at him.

“Jimmy Casket. World renowned murderer.”

Toast let out a long, shuddering breath. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Jimmy’s frame was thin, long arms covered in bandages. He wore an unzipped blue hoodie, tattered at the edges, sleeves rolled up. Under the hoodie was a red shirt. His clothes were all bloodstained and crusty, hardened from dried fluids.

His eyes had yellow and red around the outsides, sunken in with deep eye bags. A long, sickly scar crossed the side of his face. It pulled up his lip, exposing his reddened gums and teeth base. They were blackened at the roots. Stringy saliva webbed between his teeth as he opened his mouth.

He laughed, blood splattering on Toast’s clothes. Toast gagged, fighting off the urge to vomit.

“What do you want from me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jimmy smiled wider, his sunken eyes growing wide with manic. His breath stank like carrion, blood bubbling from the back of his throat.

“To watch you suffer, until you die!” He cackled.

Suddenly Jimmy’s body jerked to the side, blood splattering on the side of his head. He staggered to the side, trying to catch his balance. His eyes grew empty.

Ghost jumped through the bushes, charging for the spirit. Colon came out with his gun drawn, Spooker rushing to Toast’s side.

“I’m okay!” Toast said urgently. Spooker helped him up as Colon shot at Jimmy, blood splattering on his outfit.

The spirit fell to the ground, his eyes empty. The two investigators breathed heavily, blood on their outfits.

Colon and Ghost turned to Toast, eyes round and horrified. “You dumbass!” Ghost yelled.

Colon rolled his eyes, putting his gun back in his holster.

“I’ll be okay don- COLON LOOK OUT!” Toast screamed.

Jimmy lunged onto Colon, grappling him from the back. His long nails digging into his face. Ghost turned, grabbing Colon's hand and ripping him from the ghost. Toast pulled out his gun again.

“Get away from us you bastard!” Toast cried, aiming the gun at him.

Jimmy laughed, raising his hands. He gave him a sly look.

“Didn’t you guys just ‘kill’ me, do you think a gun is going to do anything to me?” He said slyly.

Ghost bared his teeth. “What do you want you ugly fucker?” He said, pulling out his pocket knife.

Jimmy gave him a semi injured look.

“Look, you guys can’t kill me.” He said, with somewhat of a suave energy.

“You can’t kill a highly leveled ghost with puny human weapons. The only way to kill me is to be a ghost yourselves.” He laughed, his head rearing back in estaticsm.

“The only way to get rid of me is for me to be inside one of your minds again! Or else I’ll be here forever, picking all of you off one by one.” He said with an evil grin.

Ghost faltered, his angry expression twitching to hopelessness.

Jimmy loomed closer to Ghost, his face inches away from his. He looked angry, but betrayal lingered in the ghost’s red eyes.

“Until none of you are left.” He whispered angrily.

Ghost stared at him, cowering under his gaze. His eye was wide, eyebrows furrowed. Jimmy looked angry, yet sly.

Ghost stammered. “I- I-“

Toast took his arm, “Let’s go!” He yelled.

Colon shot at Jimmy again, hitting him with a bullet in the eye. Jimmy staggered backwards, letting out a cry of pain as red hot blood squirted from his face. He grabbed his face, anger filling his face.

Toast grabbed Spooker by the arm and they ran through the forest. Leaves got in his way, he narrowly dodged them.

Jimmy yowled from yards behind them, sprinting after them. Toast's feet barely hit the ground as he ran. Ghost ran beside him, panting wildly.

Colon ran behind them, his gun trained on Jimmy, occasionally shooting. Spooker looked hopeless, wanting to help Colon.

They reached the hotel room, slamming the door behind them. They all waited in tense silence, everyone keeping their eyes on the door.

After about 20 minutes of staring, Toast let out a sigh and fell onto the bed. “I think we’re okay.” He said.

Ghost screwed his eye shut, a sob escaping his throat.

“What are we going to do?!” He yelled, throwing a pillow at the wall.

For once, Toast did not have an answer.

——————————————————————————

FINALLY, we get to see the dude in the NAME OF THE FUCKING STORY!!!

[johobi]

When You Least Expect It | 12

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: angst, angsty-angst, dramaTIC ANGST, anxiety, depression, fear of going mad. i swear it’s not all that bad though!!!!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732419/navigate

A/N: thanks, as ever, for all your encouragement, love and patience. i truly treasure you.

Next: 13 ASAP! || WYLEI Masterlist

You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation. 

"Need to get my⁠—mmm⁠—keys."

Taehyung's argument was solid, but your lip-lock took precedence. "Nuh-uh," you murmured to his saliva-slick lips, eager to taste from them again. "Do it blind."

Your lover fished futilely for his keys, eyes closed for kissing. His body angled away when you only wanted it flush. Selfishly you clung to him, arms fast around his neck, compelling him closer. Oh, but you needed more. Needed his touch. It was painfully absent. Taehyung’s long-fingered hands trawled the depths of his pockets when they should have been defiling you. 

He snorted through the meagre space between your faces. "I can't find⁠—mmgh⁠—find them."

"Here," you offered in devilish whisper, plunging a hand into the pocket of his jeans. Shamelessly grasping a little too close to his left-leaning dick.

"Ah⁠—"

Your fingertips grazed metal. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"It will be." 

It was your turn to scoff. Right into his hot, nasty mouth.

Despite Taehyung's ineptitude at locating his own keys, it was spellcraft how easily he unlocked the door, with his back to it and his tongue thrust far past your lips. As the lock gave way, you threw yourself into his freshly-freed arms, urging he embrace your touch-starved body. But Taehyung was already around you, on you, fondling the breadth of your thinly-clothed ass. He broke away to whine:  “God, you drive me crazy.”

“You love it.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

You stumbled into his apartment as a mass of roving hands. "You’re gonna get it again, noona," Taehyung hummed around your earlobe. Tugged it between his teeth. Whispered obscenities while his hard cock pressed close. “You feel that, babe? You want it?”

Breath tumbled out. “Y-Ye⁠s—”

"It certainly sounds like she does," a wicked voice sang. It was high-pitched and heavy on the dialect and its source unmistakeable. You wished you were mistaken. "Whatever it is. I'm gonna hazard a guess that it's⁠—"

The two of you repelled like magnets. 

"Oh, fuck. Jimin, why are you still here?" Taehyung made no attempt to smother his exasperation. His erection, on the other hand, he smothered actively, obscuring it with the hem of his shirt..

"Good night without me?" the redhead side-stepped. Consistent with his character, the conversation became depraved, and all about him. You found yourself on the receiving end of an unwelcome eyebrow waggle. "I was only one phone call away."

Taehyung's hand flew to his face. Dragged down his features. "I told you I didn't know when I'd be back. If at all. Couldn't you have gone home, dude? What did you even do all night?"

As Jimin dithered and whined, you surveyed the damage the bachelor had inflicted upon Taehyung's usually immaculate apartment. Takeout trays, beer bottles and indiscernible spills surrounded the little imp. Insult to injury was his occupation of your beloved red slanket. It coupled his hair so garishly he resembled something of an angry pimple. You glared at Jimin from behind his 5'11" handler.

"I thought you were coming back!" Jimin finally exasperated. His wrists emerged from the slanket-holes when he gestured to his nest of trash. "I had to eat twice the amount of food. And I got drunk alone. You know how sad that is?"

"Got a glimpse of your future, did you, Jimin?" The snicker that shot from you almost took the contents of your nostrils with it. To say you were a little sniffly this morning was to minimise it. It took all your nasal strength to prevent a flood. Probably all that rain yesterday. 

No, don't think about yesterday.

Luckily, your dignity remained intact for discard another day. Jimin's however, had long been abandoned. Tact, too. "So—" He watched, beady-eyed, as you busied yourself in the undoing of his mess. When you reached for a pizza box: "You guys having an affair? Or is this some kinda friends-with-benefits deal?" The slanket rode up his offensively nude thighs as he leaned toward your stooping form. "Any chance of making this a three-person thing? Or four, if that Jungkook guy is still in the picture."

  It was like an icicle through your poor, hollowed heart. You froze, bent at the hinges, pizza grease becoming palm sweat. "W-What?"

  “Actually, was he even real? I never saw him.”

  Was he even real?

  Taehyung was quick. Was there in a second, striding to your side, affixing a hand to your lower back. His fingertips, too, were quick. Quick to find that sliver of exposed skin where your jeans and shirt met. To give you the warmth of reassurance that came only with his touch. "Jesus, Jimin. I know this is your shtick, but no-one's in the mood for your bullshit today. Just go home dude, I'll text you later."

  An expression you'd never encountered warped Jimin's delicate features. Hurt. "What the fuck?" he grumbled, complying despite his injured feelings. Coming to a stand, he stuffed himself into his night-before skinny jeans, plump lips pursed. "What got into you? She peg you or something?" Jimin’s hmphs continued, punctuating his impromptu Get Ready With Me throughout. Without the care it warranted, he slung off the slanket and began turning out the couch.

  “Very funny. What are you looking for? I’ll help.” Taehyung offered, placidity masking his vexation incredibly well. Antagonising Jimin would only prolong his being there, after all, and the scenario was already unbearably awkward. Especially now, when he was flaunting a good inch of his ass-crack in the hunt for some misplaced possession. 

  "My wallet. Y’know, the pot leaf one. Where did I put the damn thing?"

  In that gaping crevice, maybe? It wasn’t aloud. 

  "Okay, look⁠—" Taehyung, too, looked to have had his fill of his friend's butt-cleft. "I'll bring your wallet 'round your place later. You got your phone and keys, yeah?" The outline in the redhead's jeans confirmed it. "Go home, sleep off the rest of the booze, we'll talk this evening."

  Despite his grievances, Jimin suddenly brightened. He never was one to hold a grudge. He was a Pisces, after all. "You're gonna come over? Cool! I'll get more beer in." The fact he'd consumed a dozen only two hours prior didn’t appear to deter him. "You coming, ____? We gonna have another game of Never Have I Ever?"

  The sincere sparkle of his eyes threw you a little. "Uh, I don't think so. Not today. Sorry, Jimin. Next time, okay? I've got some things to sort out later. Plus, I think I’m getting sick." A sniffle for illustration.

  "That's cool." He hummed, shrugged on his signature varsity jacket. The world would burn before he conceded college was over. "See you later, Tae. Happy smashing," was his parting comment as he sashayed out the door, mildly uncoordinated. Taehyung was charitable enough to relieve his friend of the quandry of closing it.

  And when it was closed, your lover turned back. Had a pensive purse to his lips. "Uh, sorry about that. You okay?"

  "Don’t apologise, I’m the one that disrupted your plans in the first place, Tae. But yeah, I’m good." 

  Taehyung couldn’t see the extent of that untruth. Not when you averted your eyes so swiftly. Pinned them to your busy hands as you continued to collect up Jimin's litter. Why had it been so easy for him to speak his name? Like it was nothing but breath? Just two syllables, plucked from an alphabet of indifference?

  When it was sand and salt on open sores?

  When it was woe so heavy it rasped the soul?

  "Alright." It wasn't, but what mattered was that Taehyung knew it. Knew it, and didn't pursue it. Instead, he fluffed a trashbag for you in which to deposit your greasy collection. "He's always like this. A mangy raccoon."  The comparison hit humorously enough to curtail your anguish. Momentarily, at least. A genuine laugh came from you. At that, Taehyung looked up. Caught your smile. "He's always like this. Always leaves me to clean up. His metaphorical and literal messes."

  Trash collected, you straightened. Inelegantly, and with a groan. You'd have to scrape together the pennies for some sweet chiropractic adjustment. "Yeah? That doesn't surprise me," you smirk, prodding at the knots in the small of your back. "All I know is he's a gross, unashamed pervert that could be a good guy if he grew up a little. You haven't really told me too much about him. I guess you'll—" the reality of your and Taehyung's changed relationship hit you, then. It had transfigured into something far more intense. Far more beautiful. Potentially volatile.  "—you'll have to tell me more. About him. Your other friends I don't see much. And about you, stuff I didn't get to know until we—well. You know."

  Taehyung's head came to a tilt. His downy locks strayed into his eyes, softening them into a squint. "It's weird, isn't it? Being like this. Good weird—" he added with haste. Had he been suddenly struck by the revelation, too? Your two combined brain cells continued to surf one wavelength. It was uncanny. "You're standing there, I'm standing here. We look the same. But it's all different. I look at you different." A contemplative pause. The trash-bag knocked noisily at his knees as he rocked. "And all I know is I want to learn about you. Again. Inside and out."

  "Yeah. I'd like that very much. I'm hardly a treasure trove of alluring secrets, but I'm sure I have a wild story or two from my college years. Ugh—" The ache that'd been no more than a dull tapping at your skull suddenly came to the fore. Your head throbbed like a blunt force concussion.

  "You okay?" The trashbag left Taehyung's hands and crumpled to the floor. You felt them on you shortly after, palpating your oddly sensitive forearms. "What's up?"

  "Headache. Think I was bent over for too long, or something." But then came a torrent of sneezing. And it was also then that Taehyung's proximity was suddenly, intolerably stifling. "Ugh. Maybe not. I’m definitely getting sick. Sick-sick."

  A satiny palm left your shoulder and found your forehead. Your vantage saw only Taehyung's mouth. It opened into an O. "Oh, shit. Yeah, you're burning up, noona. We should get you into bed."

  "No, no. That won't be necessary." You waved away his clammied hand and instead peeled off your - his - jacket. The last thing you wanted, on a day as emotionally strenuous as this one, was to find yourself physically compromised, too. "I'll be okay. I just need to cool down a bit. It's probably just a cold, and I can soldier through those. Uh—I'm a little hungry, though?"

  "Aha! Want some French toast or something?" Taehyung leapt at the opportunity to tend to you. Like Yoongi, you shied away from showing weakness and instead showed a reluctance to lean on others. It must’ve been frustrating for Taehyung, an unashamed empath who wanted nothing more than to accompany and comfort you during your times of adversity. But he understood that it could not be the case with you. That less was more. That the key to helping you was when you asked for it. Yes, even when it was something so small as the common cold.

  And when it wasn’t just the sniffles, but world-ending woe, Taehyung embraced your diversions from the difficult topics. Didn’t push it. Best friends never pushed. Yes, he was still your best friend. Something more, now, too, but forever your gentlest, most attuned of friends. "Don’t you like French toast? I could make something else?" He prompted, peering into your faraway face with those precious eyes of his.

  "You can make French toast?"

  "Of course I can. I can make you anything, within reason. I've been practicing. Takeout's giving me a belly." In illustration, Taehyung molded his hands to his mildly rounded flesh. Strained it out further, like an expecting mother.

  "I like your little belly." Your hands fell to his, pressing his stomach back to flat.

  "Yeah?" An errant quirk of his eyebrow. "It likes you, too."

  You smiled so, so wide. And then you became certain:

  Last night had been the right decision. One made in a swell of volatile emotion, yes. But this day - this moment - in which it was still possible to smile, proved that. Taehyung conjured it to your face with so little effort. It took so little effort to be with him. To just be. 

  And that was indeed a feat. 

  Because inside your mind, there was no reprieve. Barbed words and self-abuse clattered about your brain, painting you unworthy of Jungkook. Worse yet; deserving of his treatment. 

Every second since your waking hour you’d been assailed by volleys of it. But your self-loathing didn’t end its assault there. In your darkest seconds, it even dared to suggest that you proclaimed your love for Taehyung too hastily. 

  That you instead yearned for that other man.

  By some mercy, you were already adept in handling intrusive thoughts. Because that was all they were: Intrusive. Unwelcome and unwanted. There could be no truth to the doubt or longing. 

Not when your new horizon stood before you, a sunshine smile dawning across his cheeks. Taehyung. The once boy, now man, you'd forever coveted.

  He was yours. Your desperate words a night ago sealed it.

  Puzzlement mingled adorably with Taehyung's bright features. "Babe?"

  Yeah. It was the right choice.

  "Sorry, Tae." In spite of your climbing fever, you intertwined your idling fingers. Looked down at the union with a contented smile. "Thanks for letting me stay here for a bit. I didn't want to go back to my apartment yet." The reason why remained unspoken. "I know I can't avoid it forever, but for a little while at least, I just wanna not think."

  Soft, familiar lips were on your forehead. Spoke against the skin. "You stay here as long as you need. My apartment and I are at your disposal." It was Taehyung's turn to loose himself from your febrile embrace. Your perspiration lacquered his fingers. "We're getting you some painkillers for that fever, at the very least. You don't have to stay in bed, but I want you on the sofa so I can keep an eye on you while I do some marking."

  "Okay, dad."

  Taehyung’s tongue danced over the tips of his teeth. "That's daddy to you, noona. Get those damp clothes off and get some of my pyjamas on, there's a set on the bed."

  ----

  Your sentencing to the sofa had initially been met with resistance. Especially when Taehyung hovered, ever-watching, an eye on his papers and the other on your recalcitrant form. Your every attempt at productivity - even a surreptitious attempt to fold his laundry - had been met with soft but stern eyes and an escort back to your cologne-saturated prison. Jimin's stank had ingratiated itself with the fibres of Taehyung's cushions. No amount of deodorizer could reduce its cling. It did nothing but intensify the thudding behind your eyes.

  And at first, you attributed your worsening nausea to that silly little redhead. But the lightheadedness followed swiftly after, and then the chills, and then that horrid, off feeling encroached, like your soul lagged behind every of your body's movements.

  In the end, you begged for the bed. Taehyung's memory foam mattress and sweet-smelling pillows. Only, the sweet made you sick, and the memory foam only exacerbated all your indistinct aches. By early afternoon, despite his dutiful nursing of you, you tapped out of your brave-facing. Practically begged him to return you to your apartment, where all your remedies resided. 

  If there was something that united the men of your world, it was their haphazard approach to health crises. Taehyung possessed a pitiful two (2) painkillers. The nasty, round, chalky type that got you gagging. Expiry date: Last year. No hot water bottle, no frozen goods to improvise a cold compress. When questioned about his unreadiness in the face of illness, his reasoning was ridiculous. Sound, but ridiculous. 'I never get sick, so I don't need it.’ The painkillers were Jimin’s.

  Hoseok and Yoongi were much the same. The former would simply turn up on your doorstep and check-in to your veritable inpatient clinic and expect private-tier care. For the latter, you'd have to make a house visit, because he never got sick, and he didn't need you fussing over him so. And yet he was the one that fell ill the most. The one that needed the most tender of care.

  Sigh.

  Today, you required it. And that was how you now found yourself back home, a day earlier than you would have preferred. You tottered out of Taehyung's car in your royal red slanket, pyjama pants dragging on wet asphalt. It took what waning stamina you possessed to gaze upward at the same balconies Jungkook strode yesterday. It was like looking on an untouched crime scene; as gloomily lit and ominous as it had been then.

  Taehyung came to your side, and then a little in front, surveying that same sight. "Looks like he's gone, noona."

  The relief that surged was medicine in itself. "Thank God. Let's go in, quickly." Your teeth chattered animatedly during the climb, even though you burned like the sun incarnate. Taehyung's arm was fast about your waist, steadying you on each of your Everestian steps. Collapse felt close at times, but when your vision began to fail it was the image of Jungkook's guilt-ridden face that rallied you onward. To fall, here, was to expose yourself to the risk of seeing it again.

  And that could not happen.

  "Do you have the keys—"

  "Got 'em." Taehyung was ahead of you in every sense. With the dexterity he was inhibited from displaying earlier, he had your door open before you could reach him. "In you go, babe."

  "Thanks." You loped past, unsteady. Unready to climb the flight of stairs immediately within. "Why do I have a maisonette?" The question was to no-one, or God. 

  Taehyung answered anyway. “Because you’re a woman of discerning taste.” Large hands found your blanketed backside, lending you their support. “Plus, when the bedroom’s upstairs, the neighbours can’t hear.” 

  “A valid point,” you ceded, beginning your ascent. Even with Taehyung - quite literally - bringing up the rear, your legs felt like those of an unpractised infant. It was astonishing just how quickly the virus had incapacitated you.

  Still. The higher you climbed, the handsier Taehyung became. He stole squeezes of your rump with every step. Said it was incentive to keep going.

  Well, he wasn’t wrong. 

  After much of his unscrupulous groping, the laughter finally broke free. "Oh my God, you're being so shameless right now." Another shaky step. "I wish I had a stairmaster."

  He wasn't done being outrageous. "Sit back and I'll stairmaster you all the way up, babe."

  The giggling became painful. Welcome, but painful. "Stop."

  At the top of the staircase, you stopped to compose your failing limbs. It was alarming just how vital you'd been this morning. This afternoon, you felt one laboured breath from death. "One sec."

  "I knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn't be going anywhere in your condition." His two, warm hands stabilised you from the back, preventing an inevitable tumble. "I coulda just bought more painkillers and whatever else you needed."

  "It's alright, Tae. I had to come back at some point soon, anyway. My keys for the cafe are here and I'm opening tomorrow." Blotting the sweat from your brow, you advanced on unstable legs to the sofa and immediately crumpled onto its familiar comfort. "Plus, when I'm sick, I like to be sick at home."

  "I don't think you'll be going into work tomorrow." By the time it took you to maneuver yourself onto your stomach, Taehyung was stood over you, hands emphatically on hips. "Look at you. Can't even get comfortable without exhausting yourself."

  "I don't wanna let Hoseok down." Nor did you want to enlighten him to your current romantic quandry, though. Ugh. "But I do feel terrible. If I’m no better later, I might text him."

  "Wow, I thought for sure it would take far more convincing than that," Taehyung snickered, eyes round with mock shock. He'd accumulated a number of dirty dishes from your coffee table in his hands. "Glad you're prepared to rest. Stay there and let me get whatever it is you need. I'll clean your place up a little as well, so don't stress about it."

  "No—Tae—"

  "Hush. Get the pyjama bottoms off, too, they're wet on the bottom."

  You'd been shouldering so much discomfort that your freezing wet ankles had eluded you. A glance down. "Oh. Yeah. I don't know if I can, though." You flopped your feeble arms. "Too far to reach." Plus, Taehyung could undress you now. To disrobe in any other way was to squander the opportunity.

  His mouth curved villainously. "Okay." Clap. "Let's see if I can do this in one swift move. Like a magician pulling a table cloth."

  Before his proposition had entirely processed, he pinched the hems of your sodden pyjama bottoms and snatched them from your legs. "Wh—"

  "Open sesame!"

  Wheezy giggling filled the air. "Oh, it hurts to laugh. Fuck." Being semi-naked and comically incapacitated only heightened the hilarity. Taehyung straddled your legs, twirling the wet pants in triumph— "Oww. Oh my God, stop, I can’t—” More rasping laughter. “What even goes on in your head? Also, magicians don't shout open sesame when they do that shit."

  "I do. That's why other magicians suck. They say the wrong words." He spoke it like he believed it, and for a moment he was again the boy from childhood, proclaiming the weirdest - but sincerest - of things. And now he was your loveable oddball. "Daddy's gonna get you some dry ones."

  And there was the gross-ass man he'd grown into.

  Nevermind.

  "Okay, you're taking that in a direction I don't want to go in, Tae," you protested, flimsily, through persistent laughs. With a half-hearted kick, you nudged him toward your bedroom. "Hurry up, my ass is getting cold."

  “A cold ass will do you good,” was his nonsensical retort. He wriggled out of his own, damp jeans as he went, gifting you the sight of his luscious ass in curve-hugging cotton. 

  You were appallingly close to catcalling take the boxers off too!, but in your current state you could barely lift a pinky, let alone give him the vigorous fucking he deserved.

  ---

  A little channel-hopping later, Taehyung returned. Armed, coincidentally, with your favourite flannel bottoms. Yes, it was likely just coincidence, but the romantic in you posited destiny. "Legs up," he commanded. You did try, but the attempt was laughable. Taehyung's sigh hit the back of your thighs. "Listen here, lazy," he crooned, turning your body with the care one would an undercooked omelette. Pyjama pants in hand, he glowered down at your defiant face, brandishing them like a threat. "You gonna co-operate?"

  "Nope." You turned your attention to the TV to stifle further laughter. Why you were hindering his attempts to help with your misbehaviour was anyone's guess. There was something irresistible about making trouble for him, though. Probably because Taehyung, too, was an unrepenting rascal.

  "Okay then," was his equivocal response. You scrutinised him through narrowed eyes, waiting on his next, underhanded move.

  Which was to tickle your feet. Underhanded indeed.

  "Oh, God, no!" you yelped, cried, rasped for breath. Flailed your legs like a fawn on skates.

  "Thought you couldn't move, huh? Huh?" Taehyung caught your ankles amidst their thrashing and pulled them through freshly-laundered flannel.

  Once the pyjamas reached your knees, you relented in your nonsense and shot him a buoyant smile. "Thanks."

  "Hips up."

  This time, you were obedient.

  And Taehyung was thankful. A fine smile shone back at you as he settled the waistband around your hips. Your smile, however, drifted. Awe replaced it as you stole glances at his beautifully-hewn features. He truly was sublime. The bridge of his nose was high and strong, its tip hosting the most precious of moles. Beneath his bottom lip there was another. These little details, of course, hadn’t escaped you before, but it was something to see them so close now. With time, you would kiss each and every of his chaotically placed moles. 

  When you recalled your gaze upward, Taehyung was watching you. The chocolate of his eyes was molten with feeling. Love and warmth irradiated him. "Can't believe you're mine now."

  It was crucial that you kiss him.

  You moved to do so. His lips were only a breath away. But then—

  Three, distinct knocks.

  You traded looks. Yours, petrified. His, outraged.

  "Wait—"

  But Taehyung's weight had already left you. An intimidating energy lingered in his wake as he strode toward the staircase, fists clenched. "I'll get that."

  "Tae, no—"

  The difficulty with which it took you to extricate yourself from your slanket was all the more frustrating for the urgency of the situation. You staggered, almost toppled, to catch him, but he'd already descended the steps by the time you reached the top. Damn those lovely, long legs of his. All you could do now was brace yourself on either bannister to prevent a gruesome fall. Because no amount of honeyed pleading was going to stop him. You peered, lightly nauseous, down the expanse of stair as Taehyung slung open the door.

  It came as no surprise that it was Jungkook stood there, his doe-eyes wide.

  It eviscerated your guts, nonetheless, to see him.

  “Noona!”

  At first, he lit up in elation. Perhaps he thought the door-answerer to be you. When Taehyung’s identity became clear, however, that elation morphed. First, to shock. Your long-legged lover wasn’t wearing pants, after all. But when Jungkook spied you at the back all shy, sadness again descended upon him. It was a sadistic hope that your sickly appearance intensified that upset. That it fueled his guilt for having decimated you. With every, shredded fibre of your being, you wished Jungkook hurt.

  “Thank you for answering the door,” he began with an earnest bow, as though he didn’t know just how much you abhorred him. “H—”

  "I answered the door. What do you want?" Taehyung straddled the doorframe, asserting his dominance over the territory. Jungkook's every attempt to look past him was foiled. The lissom man angled himself obstructively, and yet you sought Jungkook's face, too. Wanted to glimpse the heartbreaker for yourself, like he was some loathsome thing of legend. Like it was hard to believe you'd looked into that face just yesterday and seen the world. "Don't you ever give up?" he added, his patience sounding pencil-thin.

  After several, weighty seconds of silence, Jungkook eventually acknowledged Taehyung's existence. Addressed him earnestly. "I know I'm not welcome here. I just want a couple of minutes with ____ to explain what she saw—" A derisive snort threatened to cut him off, so he continued hastily, and louder— "—Not for my benefit. For hers. I don't want her to—to—" Choked with frustration, Jungkook thrust himself into your sightline. Implored you with large, gleaming eyes. "I don't want you to blame yourself in any way."

  You despised how pregnable you were under his gaze. Like imminent, avoidable death, it became impossible to look away. The void called. There, in his desolate eyes. He wanted you to join him. 

  No, Jungkook didn’t need you anymore. What he wanted was absolution. At great personal cost to you. But whatever he wished, no matter how detrimental, you would likely grant. 

  Because as much as you hated him, you loved him.

  “I—”

  But you loved Taehyung, too.

  “____?” And he was there, soft voice enticing you back toward the light. Back toward his pretty face and tender-hearted intentions. There was no hurt to be had with Taehyung.

  "I don't,” you spat, clear-minded once more. “I don’t blame myself, Jungkook. Only you.” 

  But you did blame yourself. Every second since, in fact. 

  Too fat, too boring, too ugly, too old, too much baggage—

  It mustn't have been too convincing an outburst. Jungkook's mouth remained a thin, grim line. And those fucking eyes of his were so fucking ridiculously big and sad and—fuck!

  It was all too much.

  Mercifully, Taehyung was composed enough to mediate. You, however, were on the brink of emotional - and physical - collapse. "You heard her." Again, he filled out the doorframe. Stood provocatively close to the man in front. "You fucked up majorly. Actually—" Taehyung leaned in. His baritone dived lower. "You're lucky we're not alone right now."

  Jungkook did not recoil an inch. Neither did he square up, though. He just stood, toe-to-toe with Taehyung, receiving the vitriol.

  "You've imparted your message. You’re too late. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Are you finally going to go?"

  At that, something bubbled within Jungkook. It shook his frame, balled his fists. Blinking came more rapidly. And then— "I know all that, dude. Look, I’m not here to fight with you. I appreciate what you’re doing, and that you’re protecting her, but I just—I need to talk to noona—to ___ a little longer. Privately. I just need a little more time. Please. Let me get the words out."

  Taehyung bore impossibly close. "You don't need more time."

  Jungkook’s mouth opened, combatively downturned. But whatever he meant to launch next was stymied when you took one, noodly step down the stairs. Taehyung turned toward the movement, and Jungkook peered past. It was then that he clocked just how arduous it was for you to move. “Noona? Are you okay?”

  Dizzyness crowded your peripheral vision. But Jungkook was front and centre, and so painfully clear, that the influenza quietened. "I don't want to see you, Jungkook. I’m pretty sure I got that across yesterday. How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone? What if I don’t even want to hear your damn sob story?"

  He fell mute when your words reached him. Like he could scarcely believe you'd deigned him worthy of directly addressing. Palms pressed together and with his mouth agape, he looked the picture of a supplicant.

  But he was unworthy.

  No, I am.

  You hung your head again. It was strenuous on your neck; weighing like a cannonball. "I don't want to stand here all day, Jungkook. Fucking say something. Why did you come here if—"

  "Because I love you!” he gasped. “I love you, and—"

  "Bullshit you do!"

  It came from Taehyung, not you. He'd turned back, teeth bared, no longer saying but growling. There he was. Your guard dog. The leash was straining. "You don't love someone and hide a fucking fiancee, you piece of shit." Jungkook flinched at Taehyung's ferocity, but remained stalwart on his spot. Curled his lip instead. "You blew it. Now go."

  Jungkook shook his head suddenly, violently. Flung rain from his hair and onto the walls. "This has nothing to do with you!" The bridge of his nose scrunched tight and bared not bunny teeth, but fangs.

  Taehyung swatted away the finger poised aggressively at his chest. Stepped closer, but didn't stop. No, he bumped him back toward the threshold with his chest. "It does now. Read between the lines, dumbass."

  Jungkook was ineffably innocent. “What do you mean?” He stared into Taehyung’s narrowed eyes to glean more meaning. 

  And then he gulped.

  Jungkook’s gaze flickered to Taehyung’s immodestly nude legs, and clarity began to dawn. It astounded you how little reaction Taehyung’s state of undress had initially garnered from Jungkook. But now he was giving the situation its due attention.

  A few, unmoving moments later, he gulped again. Harder this time, like something tangibly obstructed his speech. “N-Noona?” It was a mere rasp.

  When Jungkook looked back, eyes glossy with devastation, your heart tore again. Right along its freshly-stitched seams. You tried desperately to avert your gaze, but the void shimmering back at you was dense. His voice reached for you again. "____?" 

  Your name, alien in tone, was what finally closed your eyes. Fresh tears ran down established tracks. You turned away, grip on the bannisters dubious.

  "You and—him?" Jungkook gasped, so quietly, so pained, it was like agonal breath.

  You crumpled as if stomped on. Your chest was ablaze, and you wanted so desperately to clutch at it. To smother it. To cradle your torso as it caved once more. But you were too impaired to move. Instead, you stood there, frozen and hunched, crying uglier than you could remember ever letting anyone see. Staring at your toes as the carpet caught your tears. 

  But why? You should be overjoyed to shatter him as he had you.

  "Get it? Now go." Taehyung sighed, all the fight siphoning from him. He backed up from Jungkook and went monotone. "You've upset ___. Again. This is your last warning. Get going."

  Predictably, Jungkook didn't budge. In the ensuing silence, however, he didn't plead his case as he once would have done. No, something about him was changed. An aggrieved aura hugged him, expanded, until— "Last warning? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung." His eyes, once brimming with tears, now seared with a fury. Even Taehyung looked taken aback. The outburst came sharp despite its gentle source. Again, Jungkook thrust forward an accusing finger. "Don't pretend you're better than me. You're selfish. I knew you couldn't wait to get your dick in her. I knew it ever since we saw you at the movies and you looked so fucking jealous—"

  The gasp that exited you was so heavy with outrage it almost took you with it. You gripped the bannisters tighter, wobbled down two further steps. You had to de-escalate this. Somehow. "Jungkook!"

  He granted you a brief, guilt-ridden side-glance before once again affixing his target with a glare. "You were just waiting for your moment, weren't you? Didn't want her 'til I had her. Couldn't bear the thought of your closest friend not being one of your conquests."

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  You didn't make it in time. Not before Taehyung wound back his elbow and snapped it forward, a hard, coiled fist on its end. It landed, brutal and blunt, on Jungkook's jaw. A dull, fleshy thud resounded, but to you it was like a gunshot. And so was the way his head and body whipped away, spiralling until his knees buffered his fall.

  "Oh my G—Jungkook!"

  The younger man, crouched away as he was, breathed deep, coppery air. Smeared his mouth along his sleeve, leaving red where it touched. And then, standing, he glared hatred at Taehyung. His shoulders shuddered with untethered anger. "You—"

  "It's more than that for me. I can't say the same for you," Taehyung cut in, surveying his reddened knuckles. He flexed his fingers for feeling. "Fucking cheater."

  Distracted, Taehyung was unprepared for the solid hunk of human that caught him around his midsection. Jungkook tackled him without caution, throwing his entire, intimidating mass into Taehyung's lankier frame. The two surged into the ground, clawing and grappling at the other's limbs, eyes wild, lips stretched back from teeth.

  "Stop!"

  "Oh my God, stop it!"

  Neither listened. They were feral. Both heard only the rush of blood.

  Knowing you must intervene, you manipulated your ragdollish limbs into descending the last half dozen steps. It was then, after an elongated struggle, Jungkook clambered atop Taehyung and fisted the collar of his shirt, glaring daggers enough to maim him.

  “You’re so fucking smug—”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? I’m not the one who fucked up!” Taehyung crowed from beneath, maniacal. He taunted Jungkook with an angular grin, like he wasn’t the one at disadvantage. 

  “Shut up!”

  Once your feet met ground, you crumbled to your knees, Taehyung's head of hair between them. The sneer he brandished fell when he caught sight of your sweat-soaked face. Pitifully you pressed against Jungkook's shoulders, dissuading him from further violence. You felt like a toreador pushing on 1800lbs of charging bull. Jungkook didn't even so much as register your attempts until you wheezed out, "P-Please stop."

  He did. He went rigid, in fact. Trembled, when he became aware of your touch. His rage evaporated and the boy that sat there was no longer a bull but a meek little kit. Trepidation rolled from Jungkook in waves, and he would not meet your eyes.  

  Why? 

  Was he now repulsed by you? 

  How could he judge you for your indiscretion when he—he—! 

  No. It wasn't an indiscretion. What you did with Taehyung held no moral ambiguity. 

  It occurred to you, then, that the pair of you hadn't been so close since the last time you were intimate. And happy. Though damp, Jungkook's familiar, and once comforting scent, brushed your nostrils. Perhaps your proximity was what flustered him.

  When he finally met your gaze, you knew it to be true. He didn't look upon you with the anger nor revulsion you expected. Not anything obvious, anyway. Instead it was the wide-eyed wonder from your first date. The shyness. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to revisit it. 

But then his brows drooped low in remorse. "Noona," he called to you like you were far away. Pined for you. Taehyung's shirt fell from his clutches, and you found his hands on your elbows instead, propping up your drooping form.

  Feverish before, you were positively boiling now. To have his gentle palms on you again, no matter the circumstance, was a threat to your hastily-cobbled retreat. His fingertips told you, as they caressed your inner elbow, that any other man's hands would never do. And yet - you squirmed feebly, recalling it - those hands had been on, been in some other woman's body. And that would never do. "Don't touch me, J-Jungkook. Not with those hands."

  But it was his hands that stirred your heart into uproar. 

  No. It was simply the flu. Nothing more. It influenced your body in the oddest ways. 

  And there was someone that had pumped your blood for far longer.

  You cast your eyes to where Taehyung lay, honey hair a halo about his head and eyes only for you. Love bloomed fiercely in the bowels of your heart. “You really don’t look very good.” He made to push Jungkook off, but the younger man was already up on his knees, scanning your wan complexion. 

  "Are you burning up?" Jungkook murmured, his lips a line of concern. "You feel hot." Again he clasped your elbows, testing along their length for temperature. When he reached your upper arms, he was bold enough to advance on your neck, thumbs either side the line of your jaw. To your great shame, though you attributed it in most part to the fever, you enjoyed Jungkook's handling. "Your glands are out. And—" he pressed a cool, clammy palm to your clammier forehead. Spellbound, your eyes closed. "Yeah, you're even hotter up here, noona."

  "No shit, dumbass," Taehyung growled from above. When you opened your eyes, he was no longer supine but towering over the two of you, fingers twitching by his sides. You foresaw Jungkook's imminent scalping if you weren't quick to intervene. "You chased her into torrential rain. She's sick, asshole, and it's your fault."

  But there was no need to intervene. Jungkook didn't anger again. Nor did he stare down the man spitting insults. His focus remained fixed on you. On the damage he'd done. The deadened, bloodshot eyes, the pallid skin, the absence of joy. Of understanding. "I-I'm sorry," was all he could think to say? Again?

  Desperate, you implored him for more with forlorn eyes. Begged him for sense. Practically mouthed the word please. It would be nothing you wanted to hear, but perhaps hearing it could bring closure. Some semblance of peace, eventually, in some far-off year. 

  Jungkook stared back, ruminating, and you knew there was no sense to be found. None that you wanted, anyway. Jungkook was a liar, an adulterer, a manipulator—

  "Alright, you said sorry again. Time to go." Taehyung hauled him up by his underarms and, hopefully, away from you forever. It was a credit to him for tolerating Jungkook’s presence for so long. Especially when all he did was regurgitate the same, tired shit. "Don't come here again, or I'll call the cops," he snarled to Jungkook's ear, spittle flying. With a grip on the scruff of Jungkook's jacket, he whirled him toward the door.

  "She's not my fiancee!"

  Taehyung paused. As did you, in your agonised ascent into standing.

  "She's not my fiancee," Jungkook repeated over his shoulder, looking for you over his gathering jacket. "I wanted to talk to you about it calmly, and in private. It's not simple, and it’s hard to believe."

  "Don't lie to me n-now, Jungkook." The finger with which you jabbed at him, trembled. "I asked you that. You said she was."

  Taehyung's expression darkened by the second. It would devolve into another brawl at this rate, and you didn't want that. Not because you didn't want to see Jungkook get served, but because you didn't want him in your presence another gut-wrenching moment.

  Brazenly, Jungkook yanked himself from Taehyung's grip and turned, palms up and pacifying. He inched back toward the door; a gesture of his intent to finally leave. "Look. It's because technically she is, but it's not real—I'm going, asshole!—" Jungkook waved his arms demonstratively at the nearing door. Having appeased Taehyung, he pinned you again with fervent eyes. "What you saw wasn't the truth. If you won't hear me out entirely, at least hear that.”

  “No-one believes you. Everything you say is a fucking contradiction.” Taehyung was red and riled again. 

  Jungkook ignored him, his time short. “I won't text you anymore, I won't come here anymore. What I’ve done to you is unforgivable. I know that. I should never have lied. But—" The lamp outside illuminated his bedraggled hair. The tip of his nose when he turned. "You know my number if you do want to hear me out. I'll be around for a bit longer.”

  A bit longer?

  You granted him the minutest of nods.

  It was enough. Nodding back, Jungkook turned on his heel and flew around the corner. And though he was gone, his silhouette stayed seared into your retinas, haunting your every blink. It was only when Taehyung replaced him in the doorway that Jungkook faded. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you back on the sofa.” 

  Wow, he was tall.

Oh.

  Somehow, you were on the floor again. You squinted up at him with sore, watering eyes, overwhelmed by it all. You reached for him like an infant would its parent, too vulnerable to move, and too stupid to know better. “Okay.”

  "It’s been a shitty day, but I’m gonna try and make it better. Why don’t we have a Netflix nostalgiafest?" Taehyung cooed into your sodden hair, no minding the sweat. He wound your arms around his neck, legs about his waist and chauffered you up the stairs, grunting by the step. Exaggerating the effort by comedic amounts in order to provoke you.

  “Sure.”

  But you were far, far away. Hidden behind your glazed eyes, the encounter replayed on loop. Lingered on Jungkook's Disney eyes and big buck teeth. The ones you loved back when he deserved to be loved. The nonsense he spouted toward the end was of particular interest in your mental re-runs, even though it should have immediately been dismissed.

  'What you saw wasn't the truth.'

  But neither was his relationship with you. Not when he kept such weighty secrets as sport.

  'I'll be around for a bit longer.'

  And that? Another of his manipulative tactics? Was he really leaving, or merely dangling the threat of it?

  But why would it be a threat? You wanted nothing more than him to be gone.

  Oh, it was all so bad. Everything was bad. Everything was too much, and, oh, even being in your body was too much, let alone your mind. You were drowning in affliction. Assailed from all sides with nothing for defense.

  "Babe."

  All went black, and then you opened your eyes. Taehyung stood over you, mouth downturned. Cotton caressed your naked skin, and you knew these were your sheets. This was your bed. Your lover had stripped you of your oppressive pyjamas. You stared at the mole on his nose, the one under his bottom lip. One, two. You could count to two.

  "Are you doing okay? Your fever really spiked there. Should I call a doctor?"

  “No, no.”

  Perhaps you'd simply hallucinated the entire encounter. Perhaps it was your mind's exercise in catharsis. Or perhaps Jungkook had never existed to begin with, and his betrayal was the product of a detailed fever dream. Taehyung was real, though, and here he was still. Your forever best friend. Your secret love. You had not yet confessed your love to this real Taehyung. But now you were awake, you would seize the chance. Because if there was one thing your prolonged nightmare had taught you, it was that you should have just done it to begin with. On the porch those years ago, when the stars weighed heavy over his head and dared you to kiss him.

  "I love you," you rasped, sounding like Death's next call.

  And just like it should have happened then, Taehyung lowered his face to yours. "I love you too, noona," he murmured through a joyous smile, brushing together your noses first, lips second. "But it's time for your next dose of painkillers. We gotta get this in you ‘cause your fever’s really mounting. Pretty sure you’ve been hallucinating. It’s worrying me. I’m this close—” he pinched together his fingers— “to calling a doctor. I don't think that asshole turning up did you much good."

  Brainless, you repeated. "No doctor. Asshole?"

  "Yeah, Jungkook." A tray of painkillers dangled from the corner of Taehyung’s mouth while he poured water. "Lying douchebag. Who, by the way, will not be working at the school anymore. Not if I have something to say about it."

  The words went in, but floated right back out. The ceiling swirled.

  "Oh." He was real. 

  Of course, you knew that. Even in the murk of fever it was apparent. Still, it’d been nice to pretend for a while.

  The sound of preparation ceased and the mattress dipped. Taehyung extended your next dose and a glass of water to you. His expression was no longer so sunny, but clouded with disquiet. "Talk to me, ____. I know you're sick, but that's not all that's going on in that muddled head of yours. It might help to talk. I know you don’t like it, but you don’t have to be afraid. Just try it."

  It was a credit to your weakened state that you were so loose-lipped. You downed the pills and curled around Taehyung's seated position, molding to his lap. "I'm just—I don't know." Your cheek was hot against his thigh. His Calvin Klein waistband stared back at you. "I don't want to be sad anymore. I'm so, so sad. It's unbearable. I can't handle much as it is. It doesn't take a lot to drag me down, but this, this—" Tears welled. Taehyung's slender fingers were there to catch them. "This feels almost too much. Even with you here. It's like I'm locked in a mental prison."

  "I know, babe," he whispered, stroking your face free of limpid hair. "It's gonna take a while to feel better, like it does with any big change. What he did to you was villain material. Of course you're going to be devastated." For once, you listened. "You don't owe him forgiveness, though he tried his damned best to get it. For his own selfish satisfaction, I'm sure. And you don't owe him anything else, either, not even the thoughts in your brain. Though I know that's gonna take a while, too. I'm sure it's all you can think about." You nodded, snuffled into your blanket until it was wet. A sob felt ripe for eruption. "The flu won't make things easier, either. You're not losing your mind. You just need rest. And when you're not resting, distraction. I'm on hand for the latter." All that he said was all that you craved to hear. A tremulous smile - of relief, of gratitude - wobbled into place. Taehyung must have seen. "That's it, babe. It won't always be this bad, okay?"

  You nodded, marring his exemplary thighs with a variety of unpleasant excretions. "Ugh. Sorry." You’d been intimate just one day with Taehyung and you were already establishing yourself as a repellent bog monster. Usually that happens at least 3 years in.

  Taehyung merely chuckled. Kept the tissue box out of reach when you moved for it, thinking himself funny. It was only upon your panicked pleas of oh my god, snot’s gonna go in my mouth, that he finally indulged you. By wiping your nose for you, cooing all the while. "That better, little baby?"

  Your face spelt vexation. But inwardly, yes, yes, it was better.

  Taehyung made you so.

-

Next: 13 ASAP! || WYLEI Masterlist

[dangerously-self-indulgent]

Don’t Think Twice (Zion/You)

Summary: You get caught singing the lyrics to Don’t Think Twice by Zion, and he decides to tease you by taking the song very, very seriously. You don’t know if you can handle it. 

---------

You had the song stuck in your head practically all day.

You hummed it under your breath as you went around on patrol and did other daily things around the high school. You got eyed a few times throughout the day for it, but thankfully no one commented on it, so you continued to quietly hum the tune.  

You were in the storage room, presumably alone, as you checked the windows and started to sort food. All alone, you felt safe to softly sing the lyrics to the song.

Kiss me once, kiss me twice, kiss me three times, cross the line…

Don’t think twice, don’t think twice,

Don’t think twice, baby, don’t think twice.

Kiss me once, kiss me twice, kiss me three times, be mine…

“Awfully forward of you,” a sudden voice interrupts your singing and you jolt in surprise as you look over your shoulder.

“Don’t get any ideas, Zion,” you roll your eyes and continue to look at expiration dates on various food packages. “Don’t you have anything better to do than tease me?”

You can hear him come closer from behind you. “Well, I thought I had to kiss you. Once? Twice? Three times? That’s an awful lot of kisses,” He teases lightly, squatting next to you on the floor as he silently begins to help.

“I also said not to think twice, but I’d be lucky if you even thought once.”

“Are you saying I don’t ever think?”

“Your words, not mine,” you grin and fall forward from Zion pushing you. Just enough to annoy you, not enough to make you fall over.  

“What’s that song even from? Or did you make it up because you’re lonely?”

You ignore his attempt to insult you as you answer honestly, “it’s from a game I used to play. I honestly didn’t really care for the song, but it’s just been stuck in my head today.” He hums in acknowledgment before the two of you continue to silently work together. It’s a comfortable silence which doesn’t surprise you. As hot-headed as he could be, Zion was always a comfortable person to hang around. It helped that you felt a touch safer with him around, too. Even though you knew the likability of getting attacked right now was slim, it was still relaxing to know you had someone watching your back.

“I think we’re all done,” you softly break the silence and stand up, Zion shortly following after. You head for the door before he stops you, calling out your name.

He grins at you cheekily, leaning into you and whispering, “You forgot something.” And to your surprise, he tilts his head and gives you a rather sweet peck on your cheek.

You stutter, face flushing red. “W-what?”

“That’s one,” Zion winks before opening the class door from behind you and walking away. “Two more to go.”

“Oh, eat it, Zion!” You yell at him as he disappears down the hall, his laugh fading away with him. Once you shake off the flustered feeling crawling in your belly, you quickly run to the rest of your responsibilities for the day.

Don’t think about it too hard, you tell yourself. He’s just trying to get a reaction out of you.

Because face it, this was Zion. Why else would he kiss you?

---------

That evening during the dinner meeting, Zion hummed your song as he ate, and you’d honestly punch him if it wasn’t for the public setting. What a cheeky bastard.

---------

You’d mostly forgotten about the whole thing a few days later since Zion never did kiss you again. Today you’re with him and Ethan, scouting outside of the school in search for any clean food or supplies. You had luckily only run into a few zombies so far, of which Ethan was able to quickly swing at before it became a problem.

The three of you ended up in a small antique shop. Usually, you didn’t bother with such places but Zion had made a fair point that they could have things like blankets or rope, so you all headed inside. You were browsing one of the aisles filled with broken ceramics when you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

“What’s up, Zion?” He has a stuffed animal in his hands.

It’s a valentine bear, of all things?

It’s brown and fluffy with beady black eyes, the small stuffed arms holding onto a red heart that spells out “kiss me” in cursive. You give him a strange look. “What the hell is this?”

“Can you just hold it for a second?” He rolls his eyes and you don’t know why you decide to take it from him, but you do. And you don’t know why you’re surprised when he leans in again, kissing the opposite cheek from last time. “That’s two,” he whispers in your ear before pulling away. You blame the cold weather for the way you shudder.

“This was a stupid idea,” you place the bear down on the shelf. “Did you just look for the best thing that insinuated a kiss and then come running?”

“Maybe,” Zion shrugs before looking at the opposite end of the store where Ethan was. “You ready to bust this joint?”

Ethan nods. Within a minute, you all leave the store with pretty much nothing in hand. Except for a small teddy bear that you may have snuck into your bag.

---------

“What is that?” Lawrence asks you one morning when he had come into your room for a quick talk. He’s looking at the bear you have propped on one of the student tables along with other various non-important items. You shrug, turning your back to it.

“Just something I found in a shop. I thought it was cute so I brought it back with me.”

“Oh,” Lawrence seems satisfied with your response. “Okay.”

---------

He’s getting more ballsy.

You haven’t let your guard down again since the second kiss. Zion has tried on multiple occasions to kiss you for the ‘third time’, but you’re quick on your feet and manage to block him, either with ease or great effort when he was annoyingly persistent about it sometimes. Though, thank the stars, he hasn’t tried to do it in front of the guys yet.

Yet.

You’re all together for breakfast this morning, just as you do every day. You sit between Zion and Harry, propped up on a miniature bookshelf to give you more height as Lawrence leads the meeting, talking about patrols and the usual runabout. It’s boring but you pay attention since it’s crucial to your survival at this point.

You have a pack of chips (you had to fight Eugene pretty hard in order to snag them) for your meal, and you were at the crumb end of the bag. You lean your head back and lift it to your face, pouring the chips like a chute into your mouth.

Though there were quite a few more crumbs than you thought and you ended up getting an explosion of chips all over you.

“Shit!” You curse and start shaking your head, Zion laughing beside you as Harry asks if you’re alright. “I’m fine, sorry. Just made a mess.” With a frown, you place the empty bag beside you and lick the crumbs off your lips.

“Hey, you missed some,” Zion giggles and you groan.  

“Ugh, where?”

“I got you,” and he doesn’t give you any warning, just like all the other times, as he kisses the tip of your nose. You can just barely feel his tongue on your skin and you jolt back with a loud cry, pushing him back.

“Oh my god!!! You’re so gross!” You wipe his saliva off your nose. “That was the worst one!”

“But also the last one! The song goes ‘kiss me three times’—“

“Excuse me, what?” Eugene cuts in and you’re getting seriously annoyed. You can’t believe he did that in front of everybody!

“Zion caught me singing this stupid song and has been relentless with his teasing.” You hope the questions end there.

They don’t.

“What’s the song?” Harry asks, and you give him an exasperated look. He seems to realize how embarrassed you are and he gives you a guilty look. “Sorry.”

“It’s not important-“

“Kiss me once, kiss me twice-“ Zion gladly sings and you shove him again. He lets himself sway as he chuckles madly, clearly joyed by your reaction.

“Shut up, Zion!”

“You’ve been kissing her as a joke?” Lawrence has an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Only on the cheek and stuff.” He acts like it’s no big deal.

“You shouldn’t be kissing me at all!”

“Is that actually why you have the bear?” Lawrence ponders out loud and Zion turns to you with his mouth wide open.

“You kept it?!”

“Lawrence!” You cry out, betrayed, but he doesn’t look sorry. Your face is practically on fire. “Can we talk about something else, please?! It’s over! He kissed me three times and that’s how the song goes so can we get over it?”

For the grace of your sanity, everyone thankfully moves on and the meeting continues. You can feel Zion staring at you, but you don’t look back.

---------

That night while you’re tucked into your blankets, you hear your class door open. Your body tenses.

“It’s me,” Zion announces himself and you naturally relax, even though your still pissed off at him, because at least Zion was better than a zombie creeping in your room. But only by a little bit.

Your back is turned towards the door and you don’t bother to turn around. “What do you want?”

The small bed of blankets you’ve made for yourself shifts as Zion sits beside you. It’s quiet.

Zion sighs, his hand resting on your shoulder as he nudges you to lie on your back. He looks down at you with those beautiful golden eyes of his and you can’t help but feel anxious and vulnerable. “Sorry if I took it too far,” he whispers into the quiet of your room. You look away from his eyes. Once he realizes you aren’t going to say anything, he sighs again. “Why’d you keep it?” It’s painfully obvious what he’s referring to.

“It was a stupid idea, but… it’s a nice memory.” You try and hide under your covers. “And I don’t have a lot of those anymore.”

Zion nods once. He seems deep in thought. “What are you thinking about?” You whisper and he only shrugs. You want to hit yourself for what you say next. “Isn’t it supposed to be ‘don’t think twice’?”

Golden eyes meet yours again in the darkness. Swallowing nervously, you reach out to him, not daring to think twice as you cup his cheek.

You don’t try and stop him when he crawls on top of you, or when he leans down and finally kisses you properly on the lips. Your arms wrap around him as you kiss him back. He whispers, hot breath on your lips, “Isn’t it ‘cross the line’?”

“Yes,”

You kiss him again, letting his body press against yours and envelop you in his warmth. You kiss him once, twice, three times.

Maybe even more than that.

[azariahluna]

Stardust Crusaders: Around The World Chapter 3: Tower Of Gray!

(Fem!KakyoinXJotaro) https://archiveofourown.org/works/15860409/chapters/37477877#workskin

Tokyo, Japan

A redheaded middle-aged woman peeked every now and then out her window as she became more antsy.

It was pouring heavily outside, thundering and cold which worried her even more for her daughter’s whereabouts.

"Where could she have gone, Takahiro?” The woman asked her husband before closing the curtains once again.  

“We haven’t seen her since yesterday morning.”

"I don't know, Nami." The redheaded middle-aged man replied as he only starred at the floor while on the couch.

“Do you think she ran away?” Nami turned her head to look at her husband, waiting for a response.

He doesn’t answer and narrowed his eyes, tears rolled down his cheeks before wiping them away.

Nami walked over to Takahiro and sat next to him. In front of them was a coffee table with a picture frame of Noriko entering High School for the first time with a bright smile.

Nami grabbed the frame and looked at it closely, "Noriko..." Her fingers graced the glass part.  

“Noriko...” Nami muttered, “Where are you? Where could you have gone? Did you run away or did something happen to you?”

She hugged the frame tightly against her chest as tears dropped onto her skirt. Both parents sob through the whole night, desperately worried for their daughter.

It was peacefully quite in the plane. Everyone was asleep except the attendants and pilots as they worked.  

The Crusaders slumber soon ended once they heard an odd buzzing sound. Normally a bug wouldn’t sound that too loud but why is there an insect inside the plane?

They gave each other quick glances before standing up.

Jotaro noticed the bug and squinted his eyes for a clearer vision of the bug.

“A fly?” He muttered out.

The bug got closer and realized it was no regular bug.

“No, it’s a stag beetle.” He confirmed.

“Avdol, could it be that we’re encountering another Stand?” Joseph queried at the Fortune Teller.

Avdol narrowed his eyes. “It’s a possibility, Mr. Joestar. Stands come in many different shapes and sizes. This Stand could just be a shape of an insect.”

The bug vanished behind the seats as everyone widened their eyes.

“W-Where did it go?!” Avdol asked in a panic.

“That little bastard hid behind the shadows.” Joseph remarked.

They cautiously looked around.  

Noriko heard a hissing sound and turned her head.

She gasped. “Watch out, Jojo! It’s right next to you!” She shouted.

“T-The bug...It’s huge! It has to be a Stand! I don’t doubt it!” Noriko said.

“It’s fucking gross.” Jotaro commented. “But I’ll deal with it.” He holstered both hands in his pockets.

“You need to be very careful, Jotaro.” Avdol warned the delinquent. “I’ve heard about a bug Stand who enjoyed ripping their victim’s tongues out.”

Jotaro narrowed his eyes. “Star Platinum!”

“ORA!”

The little bug quickly dodged the attacked. The Crusaders were shocked from what they witnessed.

“H-How?!” Avdol stammered. “He was able to dodge Star Platinum, who’s precision and speed is enough to grasp a bullet but yet this creature is faster!”

“W-Where is he?! Where’s the person controlling this damn thing!” Noriko queried in a panic.

Saliva began coming out of the beetle’s mouth.

“Jojo! It’s going to attack!” Noriko cried out.

The beetle’s sharp needle charged at Jotaro. He used Star Platinum’s hand to block the attack but penetrated through. The needle was heading to his mouth but luckily blocked it with its teeth.

“JoJo!”

“Jotaro!”

“So I was right! It’s Tower of Gray! The Tower Tarot Card!” Avdol concluded.

“His Stand symbolizes in destruction, calamity, and the interruption of journeys.”

Everyone turned their gaze at Avdol.

“Tower of Gray is a malicious Stand who commits mass murders by making his kills ‘accidental’. I’m sure all of you have heard about what happened last year in England when an airplane crashed and more than three hundred people were killed. There were rumors that it was his doing but now I see that he is working for Dio!”

“ OORRRAAA !!”

“ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA!  OORRAAAAAAA !!!”

The Crusader’s jaws dropped in shock after seeing Tower of Gray dodge two-fisted rush of blows.

“I-I can’t believe it! This little bastard was able to evade not only one fist but two fists at once! It’s incredibly fast!” Avdol said.

The insect scoffed. “Heh, heh...Even if you have guns and shot your bullets at me, within a centimeter away, none of it will be able to touch my Stand!”

Joseph looked around. “Which one of these passengers is the user? Where is that little shit hiding?!”

The Stand immediately disappeared before their eyes.

Noriko turned around and saw the creature.

“He’s over there!” She stated.

The Stand chuckled as he descended lower from behind the row of civilians.

“What the hell is he planning?” Jotaro knitted his brows.

Avdol raised his brows. “He’s-!”

Within seconds, Tower of Gray ripped the tongues out of several men.

“HAHAHA! Bingo! I have their tongues! And now...” The bug flew to a wall.

Using the victim’s tongues, he wrote Massacre on the wall with blood.

“H-H-He actually did it!” Noriko stuttered in fear.

Avdol narrowed his eyes as he was now filled with rage. “That bastard! Magician’s Red!”

“Wait, Mr. Avdol! Don’t do it!” Noriko pleaded, stopping the Fortune-Teller.

Vanishing his Stand, Noriko’s outburst awakened an elder gentleman who was sleeping.

The elderly man rubbed his eyes and face. “What’s with all the noise all of a sudden?” He wondered as he stood up.

The insect bug got closer to the passenger as the Crusader widened their eyes.

“Sir watch out!” Noriko warned.

“I guess I’ll go use the bathroom then...” The man said casually as he turned his back and touched the wall that was covered in blood.

“Hm? What is this sticky substance?” He looked over at the wall and panicked. “AAAAHH! I-I-I-Is that blood?!”

He stepped back as Noriko stood behind him.

“Atemi.” Noriko struck the back of the man’s head, causing him to pass out as everyone looked at her astonished.

Noticing their stare, “I learned a bit of martial arts as a kid.” She stated.  

“Anyway, we need to vanquish that bug quickly as possible before the other passengers panic.” She suggested and looked over at Avdol and Jotaro.

“Mr. Avdol, using Magician’s Red actively in this plane could cause it explode, killing all of us. Jojo, your Star Platinum could punch a hole in the fuselage, it’d be a catastrophe.”

She turned her gaze at Tower of Gray.

“This calls for a quiet, discreet Stand like mine, Hierophant Green!” Noriko got herself in a stance.

“Heh, heh. Noriko, Kakyoin, eh? I’ve heard all about you from Lord Dio. Don’t even bother.” Tower of Gray said.

“You think you have silence on your side but your Stand can’t keep up with my speed!”

Noriko smirked. “Is that so?” She teased as her Stand summoned next to her.

"EMERALD SPLASH!”

Tower of Gray dodged the emerald projectiles as he laughed.

Noriko furrowed her brows, showing more determination.

“EMERALD SPLASH!”

“You seem to think if you fire enough shots they’ll hit me! But none of your projectiles have hit me at all!” Tower of Gray commented.

“This isn’t good! He’s too fast!” Avdol stated.

The beetle hissed and charged its mouth needle at Hierophant Green, striking the Stand’s mouth.

Blood spurted out of Noriko’s mouth.

“N-Noriko!” Jotaro cried out as his grandfather and Avdol gasped.

Noriko collapsed to the floor with a groan.

“Noriko stop before you get more hurt!” Avdol demanded.  

Noriko grunted as she lifted her head up.

“HAHAHAHA! My speed is far above yours, Noriko! You don’t stand a chance against me with your Hierophant Green!”

Tower of Gray got a bit closer to Noriko.

“And now Noriko, with my next attack, I’ll use this Tower Needle to rip your Stand’s tongue out! HAHAHA! Won’t that be fun?!” The enemy declared.

Noriko glared at the bug.

“EMERALD SPLASH!”  

“YOU STILL DON’T GET IT, DO YOU NORIKO ?! HEHEHEHAHAHA ! ”

“This is bad! How can Noriko win if this little bastard is dodging her attacks!” Avdol pointed out.

Tower of Gray then charged at Noriko.

“You’ll become mad from how much pain you’ll endure once it rips your tongue out! HAHA! How exquisite!” He said.

“Excuse me, what did you just say? Did you say I’ll go mad from the pain?” Noriko said as she stood up.

Tower of Gray launched its Tower Needle at Noriko.

“My Hierophant Green?” She smirked as her Stand’s tendrils struck Tower of Gray from every direction.

“GLAAAH!! WHAT?!” The bug groaned in pain.

“If it rips you apart it’ll go mad from pure joy!” Noriko wiped the blood of the corners of her lips.

“I had already extended Hierophant’s appendages under the seats. All I had to do was use my Emerald Splash to move you into position. Did you not realize that?” Noriko explained.

Hierophant Green ripped Tower of Gray apart.

“EEEAAAAHHH!!!” The man who Noriko knocked out earlier shrieked from pain with his tongue out. His tongue had an imprint of the bug-shaped Stand. Blood squirted out of his head from the attack.

“What the-?!” Joseph said in shock.

“So it was that old geezer all along, huh?” Noriko scoffed. “It seems repulsive Stands have repulsive users...”

Joseph and Jotaro placed the enemy’s body on a seat.

Noriko observed the old geezer’s face but found nothing on him.

“Well that’s strange...” She said as she twirled her curled bang. “It doesn’t look like he had Dio’s flesh bud in his forehead at all.”

“Tower of Gray was always evil.” Avdol informed. “He killed many tourists and made it look like an accident all in return for pay.” He placed a small blanket on the enemy’s head to cover his face.

“I’m not surprised he’s working for Dio. I'm sure Dio was able to manipulate him since he’s easily blinded by his own greed.”

Suddenly Noriko lost her balance and bumped into Jotaro. The delinquent caught her in his arms before letting go of her.

“Sorry, Jojo.” The girl apologized as she was slightly blushing, not looking at his face. “I could’ve sworn I thought I felt the plane was tilted.”

Joseph looked around and saw the cup that had fallen to the floor.

“No Noriko, I think you’re right.” Joseph said.

He narrowed his eyes and saw the cup move around again. “The plane is crooked!” He stated and ran to the cockpit.

Everyone gave each other a quick glance before following behind the elder Joestar.

Two attendants in front of the entrance blocked the Joestar’s path.

“I’m sorry sir but you can’t go in there. Passengers are not allowed in the cockpit.” One of them said.

“I know that already!” Joseph said as he moved the woman to the side.

“B-But sir-”

Jotaro approached the women and their eyes widened.

“Wow! He’s so handsome!”

“Move it, bitch.” Jotaro said as he pushed them to the side.

“What a shock...”

Both women landed in the arms of Avdol.

“Sorry ladies but this is really important.” He said as he followed along the others.

The women are left in shock as they stood there speechless.  

“Wow, they’re all handsome!”

Noriko walked over to the attendants.

“I apologize for what they’re doing especially the one who pushed you both, I hope you don’t mind forgiving him but this is an emergency.” Noriko said sincerely as she proceeded on walking into the cockpit.

“Damn it! He got us!” Joseph stated as he saw the three pilot men on the floor murdered with their tongues ripped out.

“Their tongues have been ripped out.” Jotaro said. “That little fucking rhino-beetle killed them before we even found out it was him!”

Noriko and Avdol entered the room and gasped from seeing the dead bodies. Noriko covered her mouth to prevent any screaming that would come out.  

Joseph walked over the controls and saw the numbers of the altitude dropping massively.

“Shit.” Joseph muttered. “Not only we’re losing altitude but that bastard destroyed the auto-pilot! We’re going to crash!”

“Crash?!” Noriko said.

“BWAHAHAHAHA!”  

Everyone turned around to see the old geezer still alive.

“What the-?!” Jotaro wondered.

“My Stand, Tower of Gray, the Tower Taroth card, signifies calamity and interruptions of journeys! None of you will be able to reach Lord Dio! Even if you manage to live through the crash, you’re still more than ten-thousand kilometers away from Egypt! Those who swore loyalty to Dio will pursue you relentlessly! You don’t stand a chance against him! There are Stands in this world beyond your wildest imaginations!” The old geezer pointed at the Crusaders.

“Lord Dio’s power is the one that rules over all of them! You bastards won’t be able to reach him alive! Your deaths will be swift and painful!” He collapsed to the ground finally passing away.

The two attendants who witnessed the whole thing gasped in horror.

“You’re both definitely professionals. It’s a good thing you didn’t scream, it annoys the fucking hell out of me.” Jotaro remarked.

“Now I got a request for both of you. Get everyone to put on their life-jackets, this Old Man right here will make an emergency landing on water.” Jotaro declared.

Joseph was about to protest from his grandson’s request but crossed his arms.

“G-Got it, sir!” One of the women said and both attendants left the cockpit.

Jotaro leaned over at his grandfather.

“Gramps...” He whispered.

Joseph sighed, “Well, I do have experience from flying propeller planes, but this...”

“Propeller planes?" Noriko raised a brow.

“Jotaro, this will be my third plane crash.” Joseph stated.

“Have you ever heard of someone being in a plane crash three times? Let alone surviving each one.”

Everyone sighed as they looked away. Noriko facepalmed her face.

Jotaro glanced back at his father with narrowed eyes.

“Well that settles it then, I am never riding in a damn plane with you ever again.” Jotaro said sternly.

Hong Kong, China

The Crusaders and all passengers on board made it through the crash and were now in Hong Kong, China.

Jotaro, Noriko and Avdol waited across the street for Joseph, who was making a phone call to a friend.

“Hey big guy!” A man shouted.

The Crusaders turned to the shop they stood next to, seeing the man behind the register.

“You’re all not from around here, huh? Want some rice porridge? You can’t just stop by in Hong Kong and not try it out!” He picked up a drink on the side. “We also have hot cola too!”

“Hot cola? That’s new, but I would like to try out the rice porridge.” Noriko said and looked over at Jotaro. “Hey Jojo, did you know that unlike in Japan, rice porridge is a staple food in Hong Kong. To some is quite a delicacy.”  

She turned back at the owner of the shop lifting up a finger. “I would like one rice porridge, please. Make it the popular way with pork and century egg if you have it.” She ordered with a smile.

“Coming right up, ma’am!”

Avdol glanced at the owner. “Well in that case I would like-”

“Hey!” Joseph shouted.

They all averted their gaze at the elder Joestar.

“What? You all think we have time to eat?! We’ll stop at my old favorite and you can wait to stuff your faces there!” He said as he walked over to the group.

“Hey! You dandy guy over there! You seem interested in trying some of our Hong Kong hot cola!” The owner said.

“Hot cola?! What kind of shit is that?! Everyone knows cola is supposed to be cold!” Joseph snapped at him.

“So who were you calling, Gramps?” Jotaro queried.

“I’ll explain everything once we get to the shop.” Joseph responded. “We’re going to need a plan on how we’re going to get to Egypt safely and quickly as possible.”

Noriko placed a hand under her chin, “A plan?”

“Mr. Joestar. The only possible way for us to get to Egypt is by plane but we cannot allow more innocent civilians to be hurt by this.” Avdol asserted.

“You’re not wrong, Avdol. At this rate is near impossible to go by plane to Egypt. That's why we’re not going by plane anymore. We’ll either go by land or sea.” Joseph proposed as he and the group sat in a table in his friend’s shop.

“However, if we don’t make it to Egypt within fifty days, Ms. Holly will...” Avdol trailed off as everything became silent.

They all knew if they didn’t make it to Egypt and kill Dio, Jotaro’s mother whose Joseph’s daughter, will die from the curse.

A waitress came by and served them tea. Joseph thanked the woman as she left.

“If we had stayed in the plane and not been attacked, we would’ve made it to Cairo by now.” Noriko muttered quietly, taking a sip of her tea.

“I'm fully aware of that, Noriko.” Joseph acknowledged. “But it’s still too soon to panic over it.” He assured with a smile.

“It was over a century ago when Jules Verne wrote Around The World In Eighty-Days, traveling forty-thousand kilometers. Mind you that it was in the era where they used steamboats and steam engines.”

“So even if we don’t go to Egypt by plane, we can still cover the ten-thousand kilometers within fifty-days.” Joseph pulled out a map from his coat pocket.

He placed the map on the table for everyone to see. “As for how we get there,” He pointed their location on the map.

“We’re going by sea.” He proposed. “We’ll charter a good-sized boat and head around the Malaysian peninsula and cross the Indian ocean. It’ll be the Silk Road of the sea.”

Avdol nodded with an agreement. “I also agree that’s best, Mr. Joestar. Crossing the border by land may bring us trouble, and if we run into any trouble when traveling through the Himalayas or the desert, that’ll eat up a lot of time. It’s too dangerous.”

“Sorry but I haven’t been to those places using either route, so I can’t offer a valid opinion. I’ll leave it up to the both of you.” Noriko said.

Jotaro sighed and nodded. “Same here.”

“Then it has been decided then.” Joseph said as he put away the map. “The only danger that lies ahead are the Stand users that are sent by Dio.”

“We’ll need to do our best to get to Egypt without being spotted.” Joseph warned.

Before Noriko could take a sip from her tea, she didn’t realize she had finished it. Looking into the pot, it was empty from everyone drinking the tea.

She lifted the lid off the teapot, leaving it slightly opened.

Jotaro notices this and gave her a confused stare.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

Noriko giggled. “In Hong Kong, if you leave the lid of the teapot like this, it means you want more tea and they’ll bring you more.”

The same waitress arrived and poured tea into Noriko’s cup.

“And when they pour tea into your cup, you do this,” Noriko double tapped the table with her index finger.  

“It means thank you.” Noriko smiled at the woman, who returned the smile before walking away.

“You sure do know a lot about China’s culture.” Jotaro remarked.

“Well I always been interested in learning different cultures from around the world. Just in case I ever visit those places.” Noriko explained as she took a drink from her tea.

“What country would you like to visit?” Jotaro asked.

Noriko tapped her chin twice. “Hmm. I’m not exactly sure. I would like to visit a lot of countries. The main one would have to be Italy.”

“Italy you say?” Joseph intervened, “I haven’t been to Italy in fifty-years!”

“Fifty-years?! How’s it like over there?!” Noriko queried, interested to know more.

“Pardon me, mademoiselle, but do all of you have a moment?” A man with tall silver-hair said as he approached the Crusaders, covering his face with the menu. He had a French accent.

“I am tourist from France and I’m having a bit of trouble understanding the menu.” He closed the menu, revealing his face.

“Could ya help me out here?” He asked.

“Talk about annoying. Fuck off.” Jotaro snapped at him.

“Jotaro there’s no need to be rude! Give him a break.” Joseph scolded at his grandson and glanced at the Frenchman. He held out his hand so the man could give him the menu.

“I’ve been to Hong Kong countless of times so I’m able to at least read the kanji from the menu. Why don’t you come join us?” Joseph suggested.

“Sure.” The Frenchman said as he sat between Avdol and Joseph.

Joseph ordered for everyone and when the food arrived to their table, they had a displeased look on their faces.

“Well this is completely different from what Mr. Joestar ordered...” Noriko noted.

"Gimme a break...” Jotaro sighed.

“AHAHAHA! Whoops!” Joseph laughed. “But don’t worry, it doesn’t matter what you order because the food taste great! Now let’s eat!”

Everyone gave each other a brief glance of disgust but grabbed their chopsticks and began eating.

Noriko gasp from taking a bite from what was inside the clam dish.

“Wow! This taste delicious!” She said.

“Like I said, it tastes great doesn’t it?” Joseph laughed once again.

“Well, they sure took their time in preparing this.” The Frenchman picked up a star-shaped carrot. “Just look at the detail they did on this star.”

The man leaned a bit forward. “It reminds me of someone...” He trailed off as his tone changed.

Everyone shot a glare at the man.

“Ah, that’s right. A friend of mine has the exact same mark on the base of his neck...”

“Are you...another enemy?!” Noriko queried as she gritted her teeth.

The Frenchman smirked and placed the carrot on his neck. The rice porridge began to bubble and Avdol widened his eyes.

“Mr. Joestar! Watch out!” He shouted as a sword came out of the bowl.

Before it could strike Joseph, he managed to capture the blade between his fingers with his artificial hand.

“It’s a Stand!” Joseph stated.

Avdol threw the table over and called out his Stand.

“Magician’s Red!”

His Stand blew fire at the enemy’s Stand. The sword-man Stand swirled its blade around, capturing the flames and tossing them onto a table. The flames imitated as a clock on the table.

“H-His sword is really fast!" Noriko pointed out.

“My Stand is the Chariot Card! Silver Chariot!” The Frenchman said and glared at Avdol.

“Mohammed, Avdol! It seems as if I will be disposing of you first!” He declared. “I’ve carved a burning clock into that table. You’ll die before it strikes twelve!”

To Be Continued....