#your dog's face reminds me of one of my favorite patients from years ago

[tethered-heartstrings]

pet challange (hard mode), take a guess!

breed: very cute

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 7

Sorry this took so long y'all. This chapter was difficult to write. Hannibal invites Theresa for dinner and y/n finally confronts her.

Trigger warning: mentions of suicide, child sex abuse; graphic descriptions of violence; confronting an abuser; body-shaming

The stitches in your cut hadn't even dissolved before Theresa intruded on your life again. Before you stormed out, Hannibal did in fact invite her to dinner. Polite society would rule the invitation null and void after that confrontation, but Theresa felt herself exempt from the laws of politeness. Like Evangelicals or craisins, Theresa loved to insert herself where she was clearly not wanted.

Of course, you were peeved at Hannibal for upholding the invitation when she called. But you could tell he had something planned. He was intrigued by her audacity and wanted to see how far it would take her. You couldn't begrudge him professional curiosity, as you too wondered what the fuck her problem was.

In truth, you saw what he did to your grandma, and you wanted to see him do it to Theresa. You wanted her subject to the same psychological torment that she put you through. And that, you realized, was why he honored that invitation. He wanted to vindicate you. And that was the sexiest damn thing you could possibly imagine.

Theresa showed up alone. That was her first mistake.

"Thank you for having me, Dr. Lecter." Theresa greeted, shedding her long coat and dropping it to the ground. "Will [F/N] be joining us?"

"[F/N] will most certainly be joining us." Hannibal said, his voice hardening. He noticed her coat in a pile on the floor and something in his head clicked.

"I hope I'm not overdressed." Theresa tossed her hair over her shoulders. 

She was. And you knew even before she showed up that she'd wear that green evening dress with the plunging neckline. It was the same one she wore to prom. She kept it as a memento all these years to memorialize the day she completely fucked you over. 

She was here to make history repeat itself. 

"Not all, Ms. [L/N]," Hannibal grinned, glancing at the staircase. "[F/N] is just touching up her makeup.”

“That sounds like [F/N].” Theresa laughed. “She always took the most time getting ready in the morning. And she was always the ugliest. It was quite sad, really.”  

Hannibal reminded himself what he had in store for Theresa before letting himself get angry. “If you could join me in the kitchen, I could use a little help with the appetizers.” 

Theresa took the bait and followed him through the threshold into the massive kitchen. 

“Could I trouble you for some psychological advice, Doctor Lecter?” She said, leaning against the island.

“That depends.” He answered, though the tone of his voice connoted a firm ‘no’. “Are you going to be honest with me?” 

Theresa mounted herself on top of the island and crossed her legs. “I’ve just been having quite a bit of trouble in my marriage.”

"Please get off my counter." Hannibal politely demanded. "I just sterilized it this morning."

“My husband just isn’t so excited by me anymore.” She pouted like a child. “He just doesn’t seem interested in... well, any of the things I have to offer him.” 

“Have you considered the possibility that you have nothing to offer?” You said. You approached them with purpose, the skirt of your purple dress fluttering behind you. Your favorite pair of strappy heels clacked against the tile and echoed through the room with every step. 

“[F/N] makes a valid point.” Hannibal agreed, taking you under his arm. “You’re an abusive narcissist, a serial adulterer, and you’re quite horrible at flirting. I certainly don’t understand what you could possibly have to offer.” 

“Nice to see you again, [F/N].” Theresa said, resigned to her defeat. “I didn’t want to say anything at the wedding, but you look like you’ve gained a few pounds.” 

You almost laughed. Growing up, Grandma had subjected you to every form of body-shaming known to man. Nothing Theresa could say would have any effect on you. 

“Really? Because I’ve never felt better in my life.” You smiled, knowing it to be true. “Hannibal is an amazing cook. You’d probably gain weight too if you were eating so well.” 

"Well, I have appearances to keep up." She refuted. "Gideon and I both have very busy schedules. Besides, he finds the kitchen more of a woman's domain."

"Unfortunate for you." Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and picked up a wine bottle by the neck. He kept his hands busy by pouring three glasses of wine. "That Gideon does not put in the time to keep you well-fed and fulfilled. Might I suggest not molesting children as a remedy?"

You snickered as he handed you a glass. You migrated to the dining table, where the trial was set to take place.

"Did you invite me here just to gang up on me?" Theresa leaned back in her chair. "Because if so, that's really mature."

"Of course not." You said, Hannibal pulling your chair out for you. You placed your napkin in your lap. "Well, maybe a little."

Theresa took a long sip of wine. "You're not going to get an apology if that's what you're after."

"Oh no." You shook your head. "I've stopped expecting basic human decency from you years ago."

"Good." Theresa huffed. "Since that's clearly what you want me to be, that's what I'll be."

"Don't give me that shit." You sighed. "I know what gaslighting is and you're not as good at it as you think."

"Y'know I never asked to be a parent figure to you and Anna." She crossed her arms.

"You may not have asked for it but you sure as hell enjoyed it." You countered, furrowing your brow. "Don't act like you weren't the dictator's right-hand man. You sucked up to grandma and always got preferential treatment."

"I was a kid." She shrugged. "You're really gonna blame me for the shit I did before my skull fully hardened?"

"Well, it exposes a way larger pattern of behavior." You explained. "You're a megalomaniac that wants power without responsibility. So you attach yourself to someone with power, probably another narcissist who's too self-involved to see what a leech you really are. It's what you did with grandma and it's what you're doing with Gideon."

Dressing Theresa down like that gave you a rush. It made you feel alive. But more importantly, it made her look small. It stripped her of her power.

"Well done, Sherlock." Theresa taunted. "But you're forgetting one thing. If I were a megalomaniac, why would I waste my time beating up on you? Some nobody with no power to speak of?"

"Because I'm a living reminder of your past." You narrowed your eyes. "I remind you that you can't just beat everyone into submission."

"Ladies," Hannibal interrupted, holding three bowls. He placed one in front of you, the savory broth enticing your nose. "This is pot-au-feu. It is a simple French stew made from beef, vegetables and potatoes. I added a marrow-bone for extra richness. It's the perfect combination of simplicity and substance."

You couldn't even wait for Hannibal to sit down. You'd been so hungry all day. Smelling the meat slowly braise over the course of the day was torturous. You went straight for the marrow, which was a recent favorite of yours.

Theresa picked the bone up between two fingers and dropped it onto the table, her face wrapped with disgust. "I think I'll pass. I'm not a dog."

"You are not." Hannibal said, spearing a piece of meat on his fork. "I find dogs much better company."

Theresa tented her fingers and glared at Hannibal. "So you're just going to let her rip into me? Aren't you supposed to be the professional here?"

"Don't discount [F/N]'s analysis just because she is a student." Hannibal glared back at her. "From what I know about you, she's dead on."

"Isn't this entire interaction a professional conflict of interest?" Theresa folded her arms. "I don't trust her to analyze me because she hates me."

Hannibal put his utensils down. Anger flashed across his face. "I don't think you quite understand what this interaction is. You are not owed an unbiased psychological profile, especially not from me. You are not my patient. You are [F/N]'s abuser."

Theresa narrowed her eyes and leaned over the table. "So if you understand that, why am I here?"

"You think very highly of your intelligence, Theresa." Hannibal glanced down at his dish. "Perhaps you can figure that one out yourself."

You coughed, narrowly avoiding choking on your food.

"Darling, please pace yourself." Hannibal instructed, though he seemed pleased with how enthusiastically you inhaled your meal. "You're going to make yourself sick if you eat too fast."

"I'm sorry." You said after taking a long sip of water. "I don't know why, I'm just so hungry today."

Hannibal dropped his eyebrows, looking worried. "Did you take your medicine this morning?"

"I think so." You nodded.

Theresa smiled and reached for her phone. The movement caught Hannibal's attention, and he could tell what she was up to right away.

"Theresa, it's very rude to text at the dinner table." He scolded, taking a sip of wine. "Surely, anything you're saying to your grandmother and Anna, you can say to us."

Theresa, too proud to back down, slipped her phone into her purse and met your eyes. "You're pregnant."

"Brilliant fucking deductive reasoning." You rolled your eyes. "A woman gains a little weight and has a healthy appetite? That's the only logical conclusion I would draw."

"Well, aren’t we defensive?" Theresa taunted. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Theresa, stop it." You gritted your teeth, trying not to convey how pissed you were.

"You're going to need to drop out of school to take care of the baby full time." Theresa sneered.

You knew exactly where she was taking this and you wanted more than anything to just disappear. You reached for the wine bottle and refilled your glass. "Shut up, Theresa. Shut the fuck up before you say something you'll regret."

Her face lit up from the satisfaction of finally making you angry. "And someday you'll blow your brains out just like your mother!"

This time, she would regret it. You chucked the empty wine bottle across the table. It hit her directly in the face with a deafening crunch before ricocheting off the table and shattering on the ground.

Theresa brought her finger to her nose, noticing the stream of blood trickling from her nostril. She stood up, stabilizing herself with the back of the chair.

"I didn't think you had it in you." She jabbed before collapsing to the ground.

You went silent, too afraid to look at Hannibal.

"For what it's worth, darling." Hannibal piped up. "I always knew that you did."

[wrenhyperfixates]

Queen of the Night

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki takes you to the rooftop greenhouse to show you his favorite flower, the queen of the night. Your evening ends with a confession of love. Warnings: the tiniest bit of angst but also excessively fluffy A/N: The reader is gender neutral; queen in the title refers only to the flower. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02​​ @frostedgiant​​​​ @lunarmoon8​​​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​​​ @lokistan​​​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​​​ @gaitwae​​​ @whatafuckingdumbass​​​ @castiels-majestic-wings​​​ @kozkaboi​​​ @cozy-the-overlord​​​

Disclaimer! Gif not mine

You looked up from your game of solitaire as Loki flopped down on the sofa next to you. He looked exhausted, even more so than he usually did after a training session with Thor. Loki sighed, and you set your cards aside, turning your body to give him your full attention.

“Are you ok?” you asked as he shook his head no. You hugged his head to your chest and scratched his back lightly. He was practically purring at your gentle touch. “Want to talk about it?”

“Yes, darling, I do,” he began. “Thor uses brute strength, and not to mention Mjolnir, when we train. Yet I am unable to use my magic, for it is against the rules that he set for our sessions. Just like back home. He doesn’t even seem to have a strategy; just punch. It is so unfair!”

“Extremely so,” you agreed. “Have you tried talking to him? Or not training with him anymore.”

“I have, but he just makes those pathetic puppy-dog eyes. Says it reminds him of Asgard. I, on the other hand, was hoping this would be one of the things I could escape by moving to Midgard, these wretched training sessions.” He sighed again. “It makes me think I preferred my cell.”

“You don’t mean that!” you said in a panic. It broke your heart to hear him say such a thing.

“You are right, I do not,” he calmed you. He pulled back from your embrace a little so he could cup your cheeks. “It is just very frustrating.”

“Well, if you ever need to rant, I’m here.”

“I know, darling. Thank you.”

He leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. You tried not to get your hopes up. Heaven knows how many times you’d been in this same situation, one of you leaning in towards the other before thinking better of it. Everyone else in the Tower seemed to be over the unspoken thing between you and Loki. Quite frankly, you were pretty exasperated with it, too. Still, that voice in your mind kept wondering if maybe you were wrong, if there was no unspoken thing. Then you’d look like an absolute fool, and maybe even lose your best friend. Or, at very least, make things uncomfortable between you for a while. Regardless, the pattern continued, and he broke away.

“Darling?” he said after a minute of silence spent sitting in such a close proximity without actually doing anything, that it was bordering more on awkward than adorable. “I was wondering if you would like to join me tonight in the greenhouse on the roof? There is something I wish to show you.”

“I would love to, Loki,” you replied with a shy smile.

“Well then,” he grinned, placing a small kiss to your knuckles, “I shall see you there, 8 pm sharp.”

As he left you on the couch, smiling and giggling to yourself, a simultaneously thrilling and terrifying idea suddenly raced through your mind. Wait, you thought. Did he just ask me out on a date? You supposed there was nothing left to do but wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You found yourself wishing you’d worn a heavier coat as you stepped out onto the roof in the cold night air, shivering in your lightweight clothes. You chose to wear your favorite top, which just so happened to be the same shade of green that Loki had claimed as his own over a millennium ago. It was purely coincidental, you told yourself; it definitely hadn’t become your favorite top when you noticed the way he looked at you when you wore it. That was preposterous, of course.

As you stepped into the greenhouse, you found that your choice of clothes wasn’t so terrible, after all. The glass room was temperature controlled and dimly lit. It was so warm, in fact, you wondered if you might have to take your hoodie off. You wouldn’t mind, of course. You’d be able to show off your shirt even more. You quickly shook your head before you got started on that train of thought again. It’s not like he specifically said it was a date, so you shouldn’t get too far ahead of yourself. Though, if anything was going to convince you this was one, it would be the romantic atmosphere, and the way Loki was sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket, pillows and fallen petals surrounding him.

“Darling,” he said upon spotting you. “There you are. Right on time.”

“Yup. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. But, uh, what exactly is this?”

“The Epiphyllum oxypetalum.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, looking at him like he had six heads. You had been hoping his answer would be more along the lines of ‘this is a date’ or ‘we’re just hanging out’. But nope, he’s speaking Latin or something.  

“Epiphyllum oxypetalum. More commonly known as the queen of the night,” he explained, patting the spot next to him on the blanket. “It is my favorite flower.”

You hesitated a second before going to sit beside him. “May I ask why?”

“You may, indeed,” he replied, eyes lighting up. “See, when I was younger—one hundred, maybe two hundred years old—my mother grew this flower in her garden, but I could never see it bloom. I would watch it all day, but then when I went to sleep and came back in the morning, I just found out more had wilted without ever having bloomed! It was infuriating. Well, I went to my mother about it, and she explained that it only bloomed once. At night. So, we stayed up all night to watch them. It was, in a word, magical. Something about the way they will only bare themselves to those patient enough to wait, to look carefully. I can not explain it, but it is wonderful.”

“I think I can explain it.” You looked at him with a soft gaze and took his hand, swiping your thumb over his knuckles. “The flower and you are kind of one and the same, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps.”

“Like the way you let yourself be true to who you are around me,” you continued. “It’s like the blooming thing. I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, of course you would. Somehow you seem to think I have never done any wrong,” he said, a nearly imperceptible tear rolling down his cheek. Nearly. You leaned in and kissed the wet drop away. He looked startled as you pulled back, and he held you an arms length away. “Darling.”

“Sorry,” you said, silently cursing yourself. “I hope that was alright. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I can go, if you want.”

“No, please do not mistake this as me wanting you to leave,” he quickly pleaded. “I want you closer, even. It is just that you compare me to this flower, though it is beautiful. But me? I am a monster.”

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re not. Look at me? Please?” you asked, cupping his cheek as he stared at the ground. “You are not, I repeat, are not a monster. Loki, you are good, kind. Those who have hurt you do not dictate who you are. I love you, Loki, and I don’t think I could love a monster.”

His face said nothing, but a million thoughts flashed behind his eyes. You? Love him? By all accounts, it made no sense. Could he be dreaming? He must be.

“You should not love me. I do not deserve it. What if I hurt you?”

“Well, I’m surprisingly resilient,” you joked, trying to cheer him up. “But that doesn’t matter because you’re not going to hurt me. So whether I should or should not—and really, who’s to say?—I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you a thousand times, to the moon and back. With all my heart, every fiber of my being. I love you.”

Loki didn’t even think, he just kissed you. He kissed you so deeply, so passionately, you forgot everything else you ever knew. It was just him now, in this moment. His scent, his touch, his lips. Him. Perfect and loving and gentle and tender. Neither of you moved, besides to wrap your arms around each other, to hold each other even closer, to deepen the kiss even more. Other than that, you just sat there, lips locked, affirming everything your words said and didn’t say. Nothing else mattered. Just him, king of the night. King of your heart.

“I love you, too, darling,” he said. He had pulled away just enough to speak what was on his mind, and his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “I am still dangerous. I still fear I will hurt you, ruin you. But I cannot go on without you. If I am to allow myself one thing, it must be this. Oh darling, I love you as I never have anything or anyone before. No throne could compare, no crown could better. All the gold and riches in the Nine Realms could not even dream of competing with your kiss, your embrace. I love you so wholly and completely, I do not know how I ever lived without you.”

“Loki,” you whispered. He was looking in your eyes so intently it made goosebumps erupt on your skin. “You’re more beautiful than every flower, more precious than their delicate petals. I don’t think words will ever be enough to tell you how I feel.”

“I agree, words will never suffice.”

He kissed you again, trying to express everything he didn’t know how to say, everything he didn’t understand about how this could be real. And you responded, reassuring him that it was real, that he did deserve it. That what you felt for him in this moment would never go away. It would only get more intense, more powerful. Loki wasn’t sure what magic you were working exactly, but he started to believe. He supposed that was just the power of love.

Eventually, you broke apart and laid down next to each other. You chatted a little, but fell into periods where you just held each other. The picnic basket he’d brought was filled with your favorite foods, and you snacked on them a bit, holding small bites to the other’s lips. You watched the flowers, too. A few of them bloomed as you looked on, and it brought a smile to your lips. The smile that bloomed on Loki’s face was even more breathtaking than the opening petals, in your opinion.

“Loki,” you said, and he turned to look at you, gently caressing your cheek. “Thank you so much for sharing this with me.”

“Of course, darling. It is like I said,” he replied, a light, happy sound in the tone of his voice. “I love you. I am glad you like it.”

“And like I said, I love you, too. I really do like it. It’s beautiful, just like you.”

Again, the two of you met in a kiss. Whether or not he had intended for this to be a date, it had sure turned into one. And something more, too. A new beginning, a perfect start to something that would last long beyond just one night. You’d planted the flower of your love, and you knew its petals wouldn’t wilt in the light of day; they’d last forever.

[gukyi]

the coffee shop contract | jjk

summary: apparently, having an instagram profile with a different girl in every picture is reason enough for your friends to strike up a deal where they’ll pay you to have a relationship. well, jeon jungkook’s no good at relationships, but a fake relationship isn’t a real relationship. is it?

{fake dating!au, college!au}

pairing: jungkook x female reader genre: just fluff because i have a one-genre mindset word count: 18k warnings: alcohol consumption but no main character is overly drunk, dumb college antics, i know this is a fic but please don’t do these things in college actually a/n: yes, this story is actually based on a real instagram account my friend showed me in college. oh yeah, college? that’s a thing. i’m sorry for taking so long with this fic, i’m trying my best but college is hard. please wait patiently for me and enjoy this plotless piece of garbage!

Jeon Jungkook thinks that his college experience is overwhelmingly standard. He goes to his classes (most of the time), goes to parties on the weekends (sometimes), goofs off with his friends when he’s supposed to be studying (all of the time), and eats like shit. 

(The plus side to his eating-like-shit habits is that he’s a gym junkie, which means that in theory, every time he exercises he burns off all of the shit and just leaves the energy behind. In theory.)

He operates under the assumption that he leads a very normal college life. He is but a typical student with a very small budget who detests the fact that he has to buy brand new versions of his textbooks just so he can get the online access code. He thinks he’s nothing but average. 

His friends think differently. 

“It’s not that weird, guys,” Jungkook insists in a group study room one day, where neither he nor his friends happen to be studying. In fact, Jungkook’s laptop is dead. He forgot his charger in his bedroom. He has no idea what he thought he would be doing when Taehyung texted and asked if he wanted to come and study with them. 

They are doing anything but studying. 

Taehyung has been on his phone the entire time, and the same topic of conversation that circles their friend group every now and then is at hand. “Yes it is, Jungkook,” he insists. He holds his phone up to both Jungkook and Jimin to prove a point. “Think about it. Okay, I’m scrolling back and forth on Tinder—”

“You just swiped right on some random dude,” Jungkook points out monotonously, a single eyebrow raised. Next to him, Jimin bursts into the laughter he was doing a poor job of holding in. “Why do you even have Tinder? You’re dating someone, and he’s sitting right next to you.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung mutters in exclamation, quickly pulling his phone back to try and rectify his carelessness. “Wait, never mind, he’s cute.” Jungkook shakes his head to himself. “Stop trying to distract me! I’m trying to explain something to you!”

Taehyung resumes. 

“Anyway, think about it. I’m scrolling back and forth on Tinder and I see this cute guy who goes to my school named Jungkook. His pictures feature some pretty decent selfies, no workout or shirtless pics, and an awful shot of him with two hot dogs shoved into his mouth at once, courtesy of his best friend,” Taehyung explains, beaming. He even makes a point to pull up the aforementioned hot dog picture. It’s not pretty, but it’s a good conversation starter. “His bio is pretty standard, likes adventuring, hates doing required readings for class, lives off of coffee. I like the look of him.”

“Get to the point, Tae,” Jungkook says with a sigh, tossing his head back in exasperation. It’s not as if he’s in any sort of rush to move on from the conversation because he has something better to do, because he doesn’t. He just doesn’t need to be grilled like this. 

“I go to look him up on Instagram, because maybe he’s the kind of guy to have his profile public for the viewing of others.” Taehyung pulls up Jungkook’s Instagram. He had forgotten about how good his aesthetic was. “Lo and behold, his profile is public! Hurrah! I can stalk him happily just to see if he really is my type. But, wait, what’s this?”

Jungkook facepalms. 

Taehyung keeps going, scrolling further and further down Jungkook’s page. “It looks like every single Instagram post is with a different girl. Wait! Maybe they’re the same one—nope, they just did their hair similarly. Huh. That’s strange. Every picture features a different girl, no repeats. Now I really don’t think I want to swipe right anymore. So I go back to Tinder, and I avoid the guy by the name of Jungkook at all costs.”

Jungkook thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have come to the group study room at all. Maybe, if he leaves now under the excuse that he forgot his laptop charger, he just won’t have to come back. Ever. For the rest of his educational career. 

Taehyung puts his phone down on the table with a smack, staring at Jungkook with an extremely unimpressed look on his face. 

“Are you going to do this every time I tell you I went on a date and I don’t think I want to go on another one?” Jungkook frowns. Maybe he needs new friends. Maybe that would be a better solution. 

“Yes, because you’re a stand-up guy who’s funny and smart and got a hot ‘bod and you can’t seem to tie down anybody for more than a couple of months, max,” Taehyung tells him pointedly. He’s always been extremely good at backhanded compliments. “Aside from us, your best friends.”

“I’m rethinking the ‘best friends’ part,” Jungkook says. He can’t believe it, but he thinks he would rather be studying. 

“You wouldn’t do that to the man who paid for new Airpods for you!” Taehyung cries out, loud enough for someone in the main study room to turn around and glare at the three of them. 

“You’re the one who broke them! You dropped them on the street and let some biker ride right over them!” Jungkook reminds him, eyes wide. He remembers the image vividly, Taehyung snatching his earphones out of his hands as they walked towards their favorite Korean place, watching them tumble right out of his slippery fingers and onto the pavement, and a bicyclist with those flashing red lights attached their handles coming speeding down, right over the case. It was the most tragic thing that Jungkook has ever witnessed. 

“And I bought you brand new ones that were engraved with your name like a good, rich best friend would.” He may be an eclectic international student majoring in economics like half of the campus, but at least Taehyung’s self aware. 

“Well, it’s not like Jungkook’s going to redo his entire Instagram feed or anything,” Jimin adds callously. Someone gets it. “He’s got this whole muted, neutral-toned aesthetic going on. He also doesn’t seem to mind the lack of commitment.”

Taehyung tuts, shaking his head. He’s still on page one of his fifty-page reading on Economic Disparities in the Post-Cold War Global Stage. He has not even picked up his highlighter. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweet Jiminie.”

“I know you guys are dating, but please never say the phrase ‘Sweet Jiminie’ in front of me ever again,” Jungkook pleads. 

“I’m willing to wager that with the right incentive, Jungkook will actually make an attempt at maintaining a real, long-term, committed relationship with someone he’s genuinely interested in,” Taehyung says, a devilish glint lacing his dark brown eyes. 

Jungkook hates that look. It’s the same look he had when he suggested they roll their office chairs down the hall of the dorm at three in the morning freshman year. Same look he had when he had Jungkook take sensual nudes of him to send to Jimin pre-relationship because Jungkook apparently had the photography skills of Photous, the photography god (that Taehyung is convinced exists in Greek mythology). Same look he had right before he downed five Monster drinks consecutively, which had the opposite of the intended effect and caused him to pass out in the group study room. 

“No favor you could do for me would make me even consider accepting this wager,” Jungkook tells him immediately. He loves his best friend, but multiple times Taehyung has said he’d do Jungkook’s laundry and ended up turning all of his white belongings pink—his bedsheets, towels, and a couple of his favorite shirts are now all cotton candy-tinged. 

Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m not talking about favors, young padawan. I am talking cash, the cold, hard kind that you can feel clenched between your closed fist.”

Taehyung comes from a family with money to burn but never does he spend it so recklessly. Except maybe when he bought five Monster drinks with the intention to drink them all like vodka shots. He shuffles around his backpack (work still forgotten) before pulling out his wallet, slapping two hundred dollars onto the table in front of them. 

Jungkook, the money-starved college student he is, immediately reaches out for the stack of bills, but Taehyung nabs it from him before he can regain any semblance of personal dignity. 

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts condescendingly. Jungkook shrinks back into his wheely chair as he reminds himself that while taking Taehyung’s money may have short-term benefits, he will feel long-term guilt. “Not yet, Jungkookie. First, you need to accept and complete the wager.”

Jungkook huffs. This feels like a drug deal. “Specifications,” he coughs out. 

“If you actually find yourself in a committed, loving, uplifting, and completely real relationship with someone that you are mutually attracted to for longer than three months, with at least three Instagram posts of them on your page, I will give you money,” Taehyung says. This immediately crosses out Jungkook’s plan to coerce his favorite music production major (and other best friend), Min Yoongi, into helping him.

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “How much money?”

Taehyung ponders the question for a moment, checking his wallet one more time just to make sure the same amount that was in there two minutes ago is still there now. “I’ll be generous,” he says with a shrug. “Four hundred.”

Jungkook’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Sure, he’s well aware that his best friend is one-hundred percent loaded, but four hundred dollars could finance his textbooks for the next two semesters, probably. It could buy him a new computer program and matching equipment for his average mixtape-making skills. He could send it home to his parents and they could go on a wholesale store shopping spree. They could buy him all the granola bars and multigrain crackers he could ever dream of. 

“Are you serious?” Jungkook asks, gobsmacked. 

Taehyung nods nonchalantly. “Yeah, why not? If you didn’t use the money, then I’d just buy some dumbass shit like more energy drinks. I’d say it’s a pretty good use of my cash.”

Jimin’s looking at Jungkook like he’d be a fool not to accept the deal. Jungkook wonders what the harm is. He succeeds, and not only does he get four hundred dollars, he also gets to be in a genuinely enjoyable relationship with someone he actually cares about. He’s in college, too, which means that it’s the perfect time to make some possibly-regrettable and extremely stupid decisions. And maybe, for once in his life, Taehyung’s right. Maybe having an Instagram feed with a different girl in each picture gives off fuckboy-let’s hook up and then I’ll never speak to you ever again vibes. Maybe he should really rethink his Instagram aesthetic. 

“Choose quickly, Jungkookie, or I might come to my senses and go buy one hundred Chicken McNuggets with the money instead,�� Taehyung advises. 

Taehyung’s hand makes to put the two hundred dollars clenched between his fingers back in his wallet, and that’s when Jungkook impulsively shouts, “Yes! I’ll do it. Fine. Whatever.”

Taehyung cackles like the Wicked Witch of the West. Jungkook wonders if there’s a downside to this. 

But to his clouded, 1AM mind, surrounded by friends that make him lose even more brain cells, it seems like the perfect decision. 

“You do realize that Taehyung is basically paying you to court someone, right?” Yoongi asks over coffee the next day. It’s four in the afternoon, Jungkook’s finished with classes, Yoongi hasn’t started his homework, the both of them have ordered the most caffeinated drinks possible. 

“So?” Jungkook asks as he takes another sip, shivers as he feels it run through his blood. 

“So, any person you actually try and date for the next three months will find out about the deal one way or another and then feel used, and you’ll feel shitty. If you do somehow manage to date someone for the next three months successfully, they’ll find out about the money and dump your dumb ass,” Yoongi explains callously. He downs half of his coffee in a single go. 

Jungkook grins. “I’m really loving the confidence that all of my friends have in me when it comes to maintaining long-term relationships. It makes me feel so great.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You know that I’m right, Jungkook. You can’t just accept this deal and expect the person you end up dating, if you even end up dating someone, not to find out. That’s unrealistic and basically grounds for a terrible breakup rom-com.”

“I already told him that I’d do it. I want the money because I am a broke college student. It seemed like a no-brainer at the time,” Jungkook says, exasperated. He sighs into his coffee and the foam wobbles. “What am I supposed to do? Tell Taehyung that the deal’s off and let him make fun of me for the rest of recorded human history?” Jungkook whines. 

“I don’t think he’ll do that.”

He definitely will. Taehyung’s gravestone will say Don’t Forget to Find Jeon Jungkook’s Grave and Laugh At Him For Me. Jungkook will spend the rest of eternity buried six feet under with random strangers laughing at him until the sun absorbs the Earth and wipes out life on the planet entirely. 

“Yes he will,” says Jungkook, pouting. “What other option do I have?”

A chair screeches on the wooden floor next to him and Yoongi and suddenly, someone speaks. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping even though I definitely was, and I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be in some sort of monetary predicament,” you say, looking at Jungkook with wide eyes. You look familiar, but Jungkook can’t place where from. Maybe one of his classes?

“Can I help you?” Jungkook asks, taken aback by your sudden brazenness. The last time Jungkook came face to face with someone so shameless was the first time he met Seokjin while at a house party in Namjoon’s apartment. Seokjin walked through the front doors blasting Who Let the Dogs Out from his iPhone and immediately declared himself king of the household before Namjoon could even say hello. 

You shrug, shoulders nonchalant and unbothered. “I think I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

Jungkook’s flabbergasted. He turns to Yoongi, who, like he does with most things that don’t directly involve him, seems to have already assumed a hands-off position. Like it’s not his problem that his best friend has just been approached by a random stranger in a coffeeshop who looks to be promising a solution to his problems. Like the Shadow Man from Disney’s Princess and the Frog. Like a mafia boss. 

With a non-comforting pat on Jungkook’s back, Yoongi stands up, finishes the rest of his coffee in a single gulp, and says, “Looks like this one’s on you, ‘Kook.” He doesn’t say anything else and, five seconds later, he’s gone. 

“Jungkook, right?” You ask the moment Yoongi’s out the door. You’ve fully shifted your chair to face Jungkook, and Jungkook doesn’t know where to look when your eyes are staring right at him. 

“How do you know my na—”

“I’m Y/N. I hope you don’t mind me barging in on your conversation like this,” you say, not at all deterred by Jungkook’s very obvious bewilderment. 

“Um—”

“See, I was just drinking my hot chocolate even though it’s still warm outside, and I overheard that you were in quite the dilemma,” you say. Even though you technically aren’t invading any of his actual personal space—you’re not touching the table, accidentally brushing your foot against his leg, leaning in aggressively close—Jungkook feels like you couldn’t be any nearer to him. Like all this overwhelming forwardness and confidence is rendering him speechless and keenly cognizant of his personal bubble. “And I’m here to propose a solution.”

“Do you go here?” Jungkook somehow manages to get out. 

“Me? Yeah, I’m majoring in communications,” you tell him casually. Jungkook wonders why he’s not surprised to hear that. 

“Okay…” Jungkook still doesn’t know what to say. 

“In any case, in the past five minutes I’ve spent listening to you talk about how your friends said they’d pay you if you managed to date someone for more than three months, I’ve devised a foolproof solution that benefits all parties involved,” you tell him like you’re trying to get him to sign onto a business deal. Jungkook swears that there must be fine print somewhere. He just can’t tell where. 

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. He’s interested. “Which is…?”

“Date me.”

If Jungkook’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when Taehyung pulled out that fat stack of cash in the group study room, they must jump right out and roll onto the wooden floor at this.

“I’m sorry, w-what?” Jungkook sputters, like he hadn’t heard you correctly even though he definitely had. He was expecting something maybe more in the realm of counselor, like tell your friends you don’t want to do the deal, if they’re really your friends they’ll honor your wishes, or maybe even on the opposite side of the spectrum, like if you run away to Norway now and change your identity they’ll never be able to find you, here I know a guy. Not date me. 

Certainly not Date Me. 

“Date me,” you repeat. It’s the simplest phrase. And yet, it befuddles Jungkook more than his theoretical computer science class does. “Maybe I should rephrase it. Fake date me. How’s that sound?”

Jungkook lets out something between a cough, a chuckle, and the noise a dying Canadian goose would make. 

“Basically, what I’m thinking, what my vision is, is that you and I agree to fake date for two weeks past the designated period—in your case, three months. This prevents your friends from thinking that the whole relationship was all for show and so you can preserve your dignity. I, as your honorable and true girlfriend, will do any and all things necessary to make your friends believe that you are genuinely committed to our relationship. Then, your friends pay you after the three months is up, and because it takes two to tango, I get half. Sound good?” You propose. You seem to have thought of everything. 

The first problem is that Jungkook doesn’t know how he’s going to maintain the facade of a real relationship with someone he 1) barely knows and 2) barely knows. The reason he doesn’t commit to anything isn’t because he’s afraid of commitment (okay, maybe he is) but because all of the dates he ever goes on are Tinder dates or hookups-post-one-night-stand. He doesn’t date people he’s already familiar with, and then it never goes further. Even if he didn’t meet you on Tinder or sleep with you after a shitty frat party, he doesn’t see how this scenario is much different. 

The second problem is that, true to his college student nature, Jungkook is starved for cash. When Taehyung promised him four hundred dollars, he immediately began thinking of ways to spend each and every cent. But the prospect of him losing half of that money to someone he barely knows has him more than hesitant. How will his parents go on their wholesale store shopping spree without four hundred in cash to blow? If Jungkook wants those four hundred dollars so badly, why not put in the effort?

The third problem is that Jungkook is a phenomenally terrible actor. When he was in grade school and everybody had to participate in the class play on why smoking is bad for you, Jungkook’s role was Kid In The Background Sitting On A Chair Reading A Book. He was on stage for a total of two minutes as the main character was peer pressured into smoking, and he never set foot on it again. 

So, if Jungkook were to arrange this into a five-paragraph essay with Times New Roman size twelve font, he’d have a pretty good argument for why your proposal is probably not a good idea. 

But then, Jungkook is reminded of a few key things that keep him from declining right off the bat. 

First, he’s already said yes. Which means that, if he wants those four hundred dollars, he’s going to have to go through with Taehyung’s deal. 

Second, going through with Taehyung’s deal and keeping the four hundred dollars all to himself will require lots of effort on his part. He will have to keep going on dates until he finds someone he clicks with, and then he will have to keep going on dates with that specific person for the next three months and develop a meaningful relationship. 

Third, Yoongi’s right, as he usually is. Even if Jungkook establishes a relationship, the deal will always be in the back of his mind, and the truth will eventually come out. This may lead to Jungkook’s first genuine heartbreak—if he’s committed to the relationship—and Jungkook isn’t mentally prepared for that either. 

And somehow, as Jungkook makes it through the labyrinth that is his mind, he comes to the overarching conclusion that maybe accepting your proposal isn’t such a bad idea after all. If you already know about the money, you’re willing to help him dupe his friends, and you don’t really care about splitting up in three and a half months, then the only thing that Jungkook is losing is two hundred dollars. And while that may be a lot, he’ll still have two hundred of his own to console him. 

Despite the lack of communication between the two of you, surrounded by the white noise of the ambient coffee shop, you don’t appear at all deterred by Jungkook’s radio silence. You’ve put the deal down on the table and are waiting for Jungkook to either pick it up or push it off. 

“You get half?” He asks, just for clarification. It’s difficult to miss the fact that you are, essentially, halving the benefits he’s reaping from accepting Taehyung’s deal. 

You nod. “Yup. But in return, any dates we go on I will pay for my share, so you don’t have to worry about that. I will also be a loving and doting girlfriend you gets you coffee, croissants, and Dunkin’ whenever you ask, and even sometimes when you don’t. So I think that it evens out.”

“You’re sure about this?” Jungkook asks. 

You laugh, cracking a smile that shows off your teeth and fills out your cheeks. Jungkook looks right at you, and maybe he doesn’t feel anything right now, but he thinks he might be able to find a friend in this along the way. “I’m the one who suggested it, aren’t I?”

Jungkook sits resolutely. He just prays that neither Taehyung nor Jimin ever find out about this. If they do, he really will have to escape to Norway and change his identity. 

“Okay,” Jungkook says, his eyes staring firmly into yours. “I’m in.”

Seeing as the both of you are college students with the most updated technology at your fingertips, you pull out your laptop and situate it between the both of you. You’ve shifted tables so now that you can face your future fake-boyfriend, and Jungkook feels more and more like he’s signing up for some shady website in the hope that it’ll give him the answers to his problem set. Immediately, you share a Google Doc with him. 

“What should we call it?” You ask, cursor hovering over the Untitled document. 

“The contract?” Jungkook suggests weakly. He was never good at titles. 

“The Coffee Shop Contract,” you add on, typing it dutifully into the bar. “Sounds official.”

“It’s official because there’s money involved,” Jungkook points out. You wouldn’t be writing up this formal contract if you weren’t reaping any financial benefits so long as you both honor it. 

“Maybe it’s just because we don’t know each other yet, but you seem like the type of guy to swindle me out of promised cash,” you observe, albeit somewhat inaccurately. 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m untrustworthy?” Jungkook asks, only a little offended. 

You purse your lips into a thin smile. “My friends make fun of you because you’ve got a different girl in every single one of your Instagram posts. Can you blame me?”

Jungkook tosses his head back, exasperated. “It’s not that weird!” He exclaims. 

“It’s kinda weird.”

You type up a brief outline of the requirements. It looks like this: 

The Coffee Shop Contract

Signatories Jungkook and Y/N.

This contract entails a fake relationship between the signatories of Jungkook and Y/N.

This fake relationship shall last no less than three months and one week and no longer than three months and two weeks. 

Both parties involved shall do any and all things possible to ensure that this fake relationship appears as realistic as possible. 

Both parties will pay for their share of any and all outings made together. 

Three Instagram posts on Jungkook’s account must be made throughout the duration of the relationship. 

Should this fake relationship be successful, Jungkook shall give half of his payment to Y/N as compensation for her efforts. 

No falling in love with each other.

No one can know. 

Signatures: _______________________ and __________________________

“What was the reason you needed to type up a whole contract? I thought we had already discussed all of this,” Jungkook asks when you’re finished, eyeing the document on the screen. It looks much too official for his liking. Jungkook, if he could, would probably write his essays on a series of Post-It Notes—specifically the accordion-style ones, because those bring more joy into Jungkook’s life than he cares to admit. 

“This solidifies it,” you inform him sternly, fingertips moving quickly across your keyboard. “So that way if either of us breaks the rules, the deal’s off.”

Jungkook frowns slightly, tilting his head. “What if we both break the rules?”

“Well then,” you tell him firmly, resolutely, putting your hand on top of his. Jungkook jumps slightly at the touch, but your palm is warm and it wraps around his with determination. “I suppose that we go down together, or we don’t go down at all.”

When Jungkook’s alarm goes off at ten o’clock that Sunday, the first person to say anything is Taehyung. He comes stumbling out of his bedroom in their two-bed one-bath off-campus apartment, hair disheveled and still wrapped up in the hoodie he’s been wearing for the past forty-eight hours. 

“Jungkook?” He asks hazily, voice muffled and thick from sleep and the retainers still in his mouth. “What are you doing up?”

Jungkook looks up from where he was mid-washing his mouth out post-teeth brush, and stares at Taehyung’s reflection in the mirror. The fluorescent light of their bathroom illuminates his undereye bags and the hickey he seems to have acquired in the past 12 hours extremely well. 

“Huh?” He asks, mouth only slightly full. 

“What are you doing up? Didn’t you get back at like, four last night?” Taehyung asks. He must faintly recall the door slamming shut as Jungkook stumbled back, the alcohol from whatever parties he ended up slowly making its way out of his system. Jungkook does not over-drink… but he also doesn’t under-drink. He was with Jimin the whole time, though, who was flat out hammered, and when Jungkook wrapped an arm around his waist and insisted he drop him back off at his apartment across the street from his and Taehyung’s, Jimin told Jungkook that he was very nice and attractive but that he had a boyfriend. 

Jungkook wonders if Jimin’s going to wake up before three this afternoon. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. He splashes his face for good measure before slapping on some of the lotion they have on the edge of the sink that he always mistakes for soap. His mother told him that furiously smacking skincare into your face wakes you up and depuffs your eyes. So he does it. “I’m meeting someone for brunch.”

Taehyung slaps himself in the face. 

“Don’t tell me Jeon Jungkook is awake at ten in the morning to meet someone for brunch,” Taehyung says, even though that’s exactly what Jungkook is telling him. 

“I am,” says Jungkook. 

“Who?” Taehyung demands to know, leaning against the doorframe. While his body may be falling asleep, his mind sure still runs a mile a minute. 

“Uh, some girl,” Jungkook says, trying to make it sound as nonchalant as possible. Jungkook accepted Taehyung’s deal a week ago, and you had told him to only start mentioning ‘a girl’ after time had passed to keep Taehyung less suspicious. So you had texted him last night while he was four vodka shots into the night, saying that you should meet up for brunch the next day, and Jungkook, the dumbass he is, said yes without realizing the time you had suggested. 

And now he is paying the price in bags. 

Eye bags. 

“A girl?” Taehyung asks, immediately more awake. “Did you meet her last night?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jungkook lies. 

Taehyung scoffs. “Did she give you that?” He points to Jungkook’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook lies again.

“Wow, what a ladies’ man, huh?” Taehyung asks, giving Jungkook a good punch in the shoulder before he pulls his hoodie right over his head, tugs on the drawstrings for the South Park effect, and trots back to bed. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair before his eyes focus back on the hickey on his neck. He can’t remember a damn thing about who gave it to him. For all he knows, it could have been Jimin. Jimin has, for the record, mistaken Jungkook for Taehyung quite a few times when drunk, though clearly he was able to distinguish between the two of them last night. He grabs Taehyung’s concealer (which is two shades darker than his skin tone) from the cabinet behind the mirror, tries his best to hide it, and prays that you won’t make fun of him when you meet up. 

“The fuck is on your neck?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth when Jungkook appears at the corner table of the brunch place. He was late, as per usual, but only because Jimin came knocking on the door and Jungkook had to direct him to Taehyung’s room before he collapsed face-first on their couch and stayed there for the next two days. 

“Uh,” Jungkook says. 

“Is that a hickey? Are you attempting to conceal a hickey with concealer that is literally two shades darker than you?” You ask, squinting as you lean in. 

“Uh,” Jungkook says again. He sits down, because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

“I ordered us orange juice already,” you tell him. “But it seems like you had a lot of fun last night. Care to tell me anything about it?”

Jungkook picks up the menu to keep his hands busy and give himself an excuse not to meet your eyes. The french toast looks good, and is less expensive than the avocado toast for some strange reason. Classic brunch problems. “I mean, it’s not really that important—”

“Hey,” you say, leaning over and snapping your fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “I’m your fake girlfriend now. I’m obligated to be interested in what activities you get up to when I’m not with you. So, what did you do last night?”

Jungkook figures that since he walked in here five minutes late with mismatched concealer poorly hiding a hickey, you have a right to know what the hell happened last night. If he even remembers what happened last night. 

“I went out around ten with my roommate’s boyfriend,” Jungkook begins, because that part he knows happened. 

“Wait, your roommate’s boyfriend? Why not your roommate, too?” You interrupt, though it’s a valid question. 

“Well, Taehyung’s not really a partier. I mean, he met his boyfriend, Jimin, at a party, but he doesn’t really like going out and getting drunk that much, and he’s also a damn lightweight so you really can’t take him anywhere unless you want hin clinging to your side the whole night,” Jungkook explains. 

“How did they meet?” You ask, not out of obligation but because you’re genuinely interested. Which is nice, Jungkook realizes, that you actually want to keep listening to him talk instead of disregarding him in favor of the menu. Jungkook can’t really think of many dates where both he and the person he was with weren’t asking questions just for the sake of asking questions. But you seem to have a different approach. “If he’s not a partier.”

“That’s actually a funny story,” Jungkook begins, already laughing. “Taehyung hates parties but that night he was determined to go to one because this cute boy he saw on Tinder was going to be there. And so he dragged me out to this party at eleven at night to try and find this boy, but then gets roped into a game of beer pong with said boy, so, mission accomplished. Except, because Taehyung’s a lightweight and a terrible shot, he misses entirely and bonks the shorter kid next to the cute boy on the head.”

“Let me guess,” you finish. “That was Jimin?”

Jungkook nods. “Only Taehyung would end up falling in love with the best friend of the boy he thirsted over on Tinder.”

“Can I ask who the cute boy is?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Oh, that’s Hoseok. We’re actually all really good friends now,” Jungkook says, because that’s just how the cookie crumbles. “His boyfriend is a really close friend of mine.”

“Wait, are you talking about Jung Hoseok?” You ask, eyes wide. Jungkook nods. “My friend’s in the dance group he leads. He’s dating this guy named Yoongi, right? She says they’re super cute together, and that he drops into practice all the time to say hello, and Hoseok makes him dance with them.”

Jungkook nearly bursts into laughter in the middle of this crowded restaurant at the image of Yoongi trying to hip-hop choreography that Hoseok creates. He loves Yoongi, but he’s got the coordination of a baby giraffe and two left feet. Which is exactly why he sticks to music production, the less physical of two musical evils. “Yeah, he was with me in the coffee place when we first started talking.”

“That was him? No way,” you say, shocked. 

Jungkook has to say that he’s equally as surprised. You seemed familiar, but Jungkook assumed that it was because you had the same class or something. What he wasn’t expecting was this labyrinth of mutual acquaintanceships that draws a path between you and him. 

“I guess we’re closer than you think,” Jungkook says with a shrug. The waiter comes over to ask for their orders, and Jungkook, because he’s reckless and you’re grinning at him with a smile wider than the sun, orders the avocado toast. 

You nod, handing your menu to the waiter before he whizzes off. “Isn’t it funny how that works?”

After the second time you go out to a restaurant—this one a relatively nice but not upscale pizza place—Taehyung wants to meet you. 

It’s not so much wants. 

It’s more like demands. 

“Two dates, Jungkook!” Taehyung screeches at the same time the first kernel in their microwave popcorn bag pops, making Jungkook wince. “You’ve been on two entirely separate dates with the same person, and I haven’t met them yet!”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Jungkook says awkwardly, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze so as not to watch him go bug-eyed right in front of Jungkook’s nonexistent salad as he slowly waits for their microwave to implode and burn their entire apartment complex down. “it’s just two dates.”

“Which is two more than you normally go on,” Taehyung insists, holding up two fingers just in case Jungkook was unsure as to what number he’s been saying repeatedly as the popcorn pops. “Perspective, Jungkook! This is a big deal for you!”

“You act like I’ve never been on a date before when I, in fact, have,” Jungkook deadpans with a frown. He tries not to flinch when the popcorn surprises him with the last few kernels. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says like a white girl in a Netflix original movie, opening up their shoddy microwave to a steaming (and slightly overcooked) bag of dollar store popcorn. “But when was the last time you went on two dates with the same person?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond when he realizes he can’t give an answer without incriminating himself. It’s definitely been a while.

Taehyung picks up on the nanosecond of silence and Jungkook’s fish gape immediately, cackling as he tears open the popcorn and a quarter of the pieces go flying across their tiny counter island, still sticky in some places where Taehyung forgot to wipe up the juice from the watermelon he was cutting (sans cutting board) last night at two in the morning. 

“Perspective! Matters!” Taehyung says, interjecting each word with a piece of popcorn in his mouth. Jungkook reaches over to take some for himself, just happy knowing that the microwave hasn’t caused his tragic demise and he can put off death-by-microwave for another day. 

“You’re an Economics and Fine Arts double major, perspective is all you care about,” Jungkook says, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk preparing for winter. “I think you’re being dramatic.”

“I think that two dates is a record,” Taehyung tells him pointedly. 

“How noncommittal do you think I am?” Jungkook asks, shocked. He’s been in committed, long-term relationships. In high school. And nowadays in college, the definition of long-term has become so distant from what it used to be that three weeks is pretty much long-term at this point. 

“Very,” Taehyung says. He tilts the popcorn bag into his mouth and finishes it, and Jungkook is both horrified and impressed, because the bag was still a quarter-full when Taehyung decided it would be a good time to chug carbohydrates covered in butter. “I gotta meet them, Jungkook. I’m your best friend. I have to!”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “You do not have to meet her. In fact, you shouldn’t even be involved in my existent or nonexistent dating life at all. You have a boyfriend.” 

“Excuse me, I am still your best friend despite already having met the man I’m going to marry and adopt three dogs and a giant iguana with, and therefore I’m allowed to want to meet her. We should do something fun,” Taehyung says, before his eyes light up in the same way they did before Taehyung once suggested they take an extremely pricey Uber out into the suburbs just so they could go to the biggest wholesale store in the area and buy as many sixty-brownie packs as possible. 

The same way they did before Taehyung thought it was a good idea to pay Jungkook money to get himself into a committed relationship, and the same way they did when Jungkook agreed. 

“Oh my God, we should go play laser tag! That’s so much fun!” Taehyung begins to jump up and down in the middle of their apartment like an eight-year-old boy at an amusement park for his birthday, and Jungkook has reason to be worried he’ll fall right through the floorboards and into the apartment below. 

Jungkook couldn’t think of a worse group outing for you to meet his friends. While Taehyung definitely sucks at laser tag (Jungkook always wins), a furiously competitive, glow-in-the-dark, shriek-inducing, friendship-ending activity may very well be the last thing Jungkook wants to do with you while you meet his friends. He wants you to like them. He wants them to like you. Laser tag doesn’t promise either of those things. Laser tag, in fact, actively promotes immediate dislike. 

“Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m introducing you to her in a laser tag setting,” Jungkook immediately rejects Taehyung’s suggestion. Taehyung frowns, probably trying to think of some other equally as infuriating activity for the four of you to do together. Jungkook racks his brain, trying to think of something else that appeases Taehyung’s desire for physical competition while also minimizing the potential for disaster (which is very high whenever Taehyung is involved). “How about… mini golf?”

Taehyung breaks out into a devilish grin, and Jungkook wonders if mini-golf was an even worse suggestion. 

“Mini-golf?” You ask as you arrive at the mini-golf place, a little outside location far away from the hubbub of the city but close enough to not require an overpriced Uber. 

“It was this or laser tag,” Jungkook says, whipping his head around to see if Taehyung and Jimin have arrived yet. He can’t seem to see Taehyung’s faded teal hair nor Jimin’s pink, which would otherwise be easy to spot because whenever they walk anywhere, Gen Z’ers stop them on the street to remind them that they look like Cosmo and Wanda from The Fairly OddParents. 

“Laser tag!” You exclaim, punching Jungkook in the shoulder for emphasis. “That would have been such a good idea! Mini-golf is so overdone, I would have loved to go to laser tag.”

Jungkook pouts. He can’t believe he already royally fucked up the first meeting between his fake girlfriend and his best friend (and his best friend’s equally-as-chaotic just not-as-loud boyfriend) because you and Taehyung wanted to play laser tag and Jungkook was the dumbass who thought that mini-golf would be a better idea. Maybe Jungkook should just try to get knocked in the head with a mini-golf ball going at one hundred miles an hour like it did in Avril Lavigne’s VMA-deserving music video Girlfriend, fall on the ground and roll into a Porta Potty, and then wake up with no recollection of any of the day’s events. 

You notice Jungkook’s pout immediately as you hand over eight dollars so he isn’t paying for the both of you, and pat him on the back. “But I still like mini-golf. It could be worse. We could be at a Kidz Bop concert right now.”

Jungkook supposes that there’s always a silver lining. 

The silver lining vanishes the moment he hears a preteen boy who’s on hole eight shout, “Oh my God, it’s Cosmo and Wanda!”

“That would be the other half of our party,” Jungkook says with a grimace, staring distantly into the void as Taehyung and Jimin clamber onto the course. Taehyung carelessly gives the poor teenager in the booth a twenty, does not take his change, and picks up a golf club that is nowhere near the right size for his nearly-six-feet-tall figure. Maybe if Jungkook makes eye contact with the supermassive black hole that Taehyung is convinced actually exists at the center of the Milky Way galaxy, he’ll just get sucked right in and lose all the matter in his body so he doesn’t have to deal with this shit for the next two hours. 

“I’m Taehyung,” Taehyung introduces himself aggressively, holding out an enormous hand for you to shake. You do so hesitantly but firmly, trying not to break eye contact with Taehyung, a task you will soon find to be quite difficult, as Taehyung can keep his eyes open for over five minutes straight. “And unfortunately, my charming personality and extreme good looks have already attracted a mate. This is my soon-to-be husband, Jimin.”

Jimin waves respectfully, pink hair bouncing. 

“They’re not engaged,” Jungkook says, feeling the need to elaborate because Jungkook’s known Taehyung since before freshman year of college, and sometimes even he can’t tell when he’s kidding. 

“Real shame, but I actually have my eye on the only natural-hair-colored college-aged super buff guy in the group,” you say, nudging Jungkook’s side with a wink. Jungkook thinks he might vomit at your description of him. 

“Kook’s a real looker, but he flakes on us all the time. I’m impressed you even managed to get him to come with us,” Taehyung jokes, but the comment nonetheless makes Jungkook’s mouth open in indignation. 

“I’m the only mutuality between all of us,” he re-emphasizes, “I’m the one who organized the whole thing!”

Taehyung leans in to whisper into your ear, but Taehyung’s whisper is normal people’s regular outside voice, so Jungkook can hear every word. “Truthfully, I wanted to go play laser tag.”

You nod enthusiastically. “So did I! Jungkook just mentioned it and I wish we had gone there instead. We’ll have to go sometime. Just a warning: I’ll crush you.”

“I accept your challenge,” Taehyung says with a firm nod. 

Jungkook coughs loud enough to interrupt the both of you and even attract the attention of the next family who’s come up to pay. He feels bad for them—they’re going to be stuck behind the four of you for the rest of this hellhole of a mini-golf game. 

“Are we here to play some mini-golf, or what?” Jungkook asks, tiny golf pencil and paper stuffed into his back pocket to record scores, because Jungkook came here to win, and winning is what he will do. 

Jungkook does not win. 

He actually loses by one point. A singular value. A sole divisor. 

He’s pissed, but also impressed. 

Taehyung comes in dead last, as he normally does even when he’s playing mini-golf with a club that’s actually the right size, but the gap between him and Jimin’s third place is significantly larger considering his club is meant for someone who’s about a foot shorter than he is. Even so, he seems to give no shits whatsoever about his abysmal performance, and is instead spending most of his time post-mini-golf game high-fiving the shit out of you. 

“You beat him! I can’t believe it! I don’t think Jungkook’s ever lost a game of anything in his entire life!” Taehyung exclaims, making Jungkook wince. It was down to the wire the entire game with you and Jungkook neck-and-neck, Jimin a fair few points behind the both of you, and Taehyung hardly in the same ballpark. And on the last hole, Jungkook overshot the curve and his ball jumped the hole while yours sailed in, leaving him to wallow in his second-place pity. 

“Just doing my job,” you say with a flip of the nonexistent hair next to your left shoulder. Your hair is nowhere near your hand whatsoever. “He was the one who suggested mini-golf before he knew what a pro I was.”

“It was one point,” Jungkook reminds you, fuming. “If my golf ball hadn’t skipped the hole we’d be tied,” he says, consoling himself more than anyone else. 

“But it did, and now you owe me dinner because you lost and I won,” you tease as you walk out of the mini-golf place, sipping on overpriced sodas from the generic mini-golf diner. 

“That was not part of the deal whatsoever,” Jungkook says with a frown. “I never agreed to that. We never said anything about dinner. What the fuck.”

You laugh, tilting your head back as you chuckle, Sprite fizzing in your hand. Taehyung insisted nobody get straws, and now you all have disposable open (and full) cups of soda in your hands as you make the treacherous journey back to your campus. “Fine. How about we go out to get some bubble tea after this?”

Jungkook likes the sound of that. He’s been craving some taro tea recently. 

“Deal,” he says with a nod, and the two of you shake hands to seal it. 

Jungkook finds that he’s actually really looking forward to getting bubble tea with you post-mini-golf game. He’s spent so much time with you and the rest of his friends (however many there are) that you haven’t gone out alone, just the two of you, in a while. Jungkook misses that. 

You get along so well together. 

Jimin grabs your attention with a question about Hoseok, since the two of you happen to be connected through his dance group, giving Taehyung just enough time to swoop in and wrap an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, Dr. Pepper spilling onto the asphalt beneath them. 

“Damn, she really knows how to keep up with you,” Taehyung says, quieter than he’s ever spoken before. 

“Are you implying that I’m difficult to keep up with?” Jungkook immediately retorts. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “No, you dumbass. I’m saying that you’ve never been on a date with someone who meshes so well with your own personality. No wonder you guys have been on two dates.”

“I can’t believe you think I’m this one-date-wonder kind of guy.”

“You guys go really well with each other,” Taehyung says, and that sort of out-of-the-blue, genuinely complimentary statement makes Jungkook narrow his eyes in suspicion. “Seriously, I’m not just saying that. I think you guys make a cute couple.”

Jimin says something funny and you laugh again, giggles breaking out into the air as you slowly make your way towards campus. You’re not looking at Jungkook, but Jungkook is looking at you, and he thinks that maybe even if this is all just one big ploy, he might still get a really, really wonderful friend out of this. 

Taehyung pinches Jungkook’s cheek before turning his chin to face you. “I think that she’s someone you might want to hold onto.”

For once in his life, Jungkook has to agree. 

Jungkook is running late. 

This is no rare occurrence by any means, as Jungkook frequently shows up five minutes late to class with nothing but his half-charged laptop and an eraser-less mechanical pencil, which leaves fantastic impressions on both his classmates and his professors. 

But Jungkook hit snooze on his phone four times, and now he’s got ten minutes to get his shit together and get to his Metropolitan Nature class before he gets chewed out by his professor for being late three times already this month. 

He makes a few quick sacrifices. First, he’s not getting changed out of his pajamas, so this is what his Metropolitan Nature professor is getting, whether she likes it or not. Second, he doesn’t have time to use the bathroom so he’s just going to wipe his face with one of Taehyung’s makeup-removing wipes and pee after class. Third, there is no way in hell he’s making himself any sort of breakfast, not even grabbing a granola bar or anything, so he’ll just suffer until later, when he isn’t a debilitating mess of a human being and has time to stuff an apple into his mouth. 

And then, as he’s scrambling to get his backpack and make it to class on time (five minutes to go!), there’s a knock on his door. 

Jungkook almost doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs the nearest object to him—which happens to be their television remote—and holds it out in front of him like a weapon, waiting for the burglar on the other side to bust the door down, realize that Jungkook and Taehyung’s shared apartment has absolutely nothing valuable inside of it, and turn around to rob someone else. 

There’s another knock on his door. Jungkook decides that it’s probably not a burglar, but he keeps the remote in his hand just in case and opens the door.

On the other side is, much to his surprise, you, with a steaming cup of what he assumes is coffee and a little paper bag in your hand. 

“Oh, geez, what’s up?” Jungkook says, quickly trying to fix the mop on his head known as hair, to little avail. 

“Why are you holding the TV remote?” You ask instead of greeting him back like a normal person. 

“Oh, uh, just making sure you aren’t a robber or murderer or anything,” Jungkook says. There’s too long of an awkward silence that falls between the two of you, and in that time frame, Jungkook tosses the TV remote behind him and listens as it lands with a thud on the rug by the couch. 

“O…kay…,” you say nervously. “I got you breakfast.”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open and he’s too sleep-deprived to shut it again. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I told you that I would,” you remind him. “It’s a croissant and hot chocolate, because I wasn’t sure what your coffee order was. Here.” You don’t give him the chance to respond, instead shoving the cup and paper bag into his hands very ungracefully. 

“Oh, wow, I—I don’t know what to say,” Jungkook says, very obviously floored at your random generosity. He knows that this was what you discussed but he didn’t realize that it would actually be put into practice. 

“A simple ‘thank you’ would probably suffice!” Taehyung calls from his bedroom, clearly having overheard your entire conversation thus far. 

“Fuck off!” Jungkook shouts back, and he hears Taehyung cackle. 

You raise your eyebrows, leaning forward slightly. 

“Oh, yeah, thank you,” Jungkook says, still flabbergasted. “Seriously, I—I really can’t thank you enough. This was super nice of you.” God, who still uses the word super? Jungkook has to go before he embarrasses himself further. 

“No problem,” you tell him with a shrug. “Just doing the girlfriend thing.” It’s a good thing Taehyung’s in the other room, because he can’t see you wink. 

“I really appreciate it, Y/N. This was so thoughtful of you.” Jungkook doesn’t know how else to express his immense gratitude for this simple act, mostly because no one’s ever spontaneously brought him food at such an opportune time before. He missed you, is what it is. He didn’t realize it until you showed up at his door, and now he’s speechless and looks like an absolute fool, all because he missed you. 

Weird. 

“It was no big deal, really,” you tell him. “You headed to class? Let’s walk together.”

Jungkook’s already late but he decides that he would much rather walk than sprint, because that means he gets to savor the taste of blazing hot chocolate and a warm croissant, all while spending more time with you. 

When Jungkook was thirteen, a brand new go-kart arena opened up in their town. It had flashing neon lights and a giant sign and an arcade with actual prizes to be won in exchange for tickets. There was no sight more glorious to Jungkook’s freshly-teenaged self. 

His best friend at the time invited him out the day after it opened, and Jungkook was so excited that he said yes before thinking about anything else. He had never been go-karting. He couldn’t remember the last time he went to an arcade. He wanted to win ten thousand tickets to get a remote-control car. 

But he had no money because he realized that he was only getting paid for mowing his neighbor’s lawns at the end of the week, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to pay for anything. 

In desperation, Jungkook begged his older brother for some cash, promising that he would pay him back as soon as possible. Jeonghyun agreed (albeit begrudgingly) and Jungkook went on his merry way, having a grand old time at the brand new go-kart place with an arcade and winning one thousand tickets, which was enough to get him five of his favorite candy bars. 

Jungkook fully intended on giving some of them to his older brother as a thank you, but he ended up eating all of them on the way home, and then Jeonghyun doubled the amount that Jungkook owed him, and it took Jungkook a month to repay him. 

Jungkook discovered then that owing people is the worst feeling in the entire world, a sentiment he’s maintained ever since. It makes him an extremely reliable person whenever he borrows anything, which is already rare to begin with. 

Jungkook owes you more than just some hot chocolate and a croissant. You’ve saved his ass on numerous occasions, getting along well with Taehyung and Jimin and suggesting that you’re interested in him, striking up a deal that will save him from the wrath of Taehyung, giving him breakfast (free of charge!) on a day where he definitely wasn’t planning on eating anything. He feels like hot chocolate and a croissant just doesn’t cut it. 

In the end, Jungkook knocks on your door at seven in the evening with a paper bag filled with various Chinese takeout dishes. He never knows what to get whenever he gets Chinese food, so he gets a little bit of everything and, inevitably, eats all of it. He’s hoping that this is sufficient enough repayment, because you certainly deserve it. 

You open the door drowsily, mumbling something that sounds like “Who is it?” under your breath, when you see Jungkook and your eyes light up. 

“I brought Chinese food,” Jungkook supplies helpfully, holding up the bag as if the scent that’s wafting through the air isn’t proof enough. 

Your mouth drops open, just like his did. “Oh my God, you’re my hero. I was just about to make myself some shitty instant ramen for dinner, but this is so much better.”

“Just returning the favor, I guess,” Jungkook says with a shrug. “It was really nice of you to drop by this morning.”

“It was really nice of you to bring Chinese food tonight,” you respond as Jungkook hands over the paper bag. You let it sit on your palms, too heavy to be held by the top of it. “You just saved me from my fourth instant ramen dinner of the week.”

Jungkook laughs. He and Taehyung were like that during their freshman year, boiling water in their kettle at four in the morning to burn the insides of their mouths out with the fire noodles. Fond memories. You grin at him, Chinese takeout resting securely in your palms, and gaze at each other for a few more seconds before Jungkook coughs to end the silence. 

“Aren’t you coming inside?” You ask, stepping away from the door to usher him in. 

“Oh, no, the takeout was just a thank you for this morning,” Jungkook says, shaking his head and his hand as he takes a step away from the door. His stomach grumbles. 

Exposed. 

“Don’t think I can’t hear the whale coming from your belly,” you say, eyes narrowing as you point at his torso. “Come on, you paid for this thing, you might as well get your fair share. There’s no way I’ll be able to eat all of this myself.”

“No, it’s alright, seriously—” His stomach growls at him, like it’s personally offended that Jungkook’s rejecting the Chinese food. 

You frown at him, raising a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Come on, you dumbass. It’s getting cold.”

Jungkook relents, though it probably wouldn’t have taken much more to wear him down anyway, and walks inside your apartment. He slips off his sneakers and joins you as you set the food down on the coffee table in front of your couch, fabric worn and pillows sunken in. It looks delightfully comfortable. 

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess in here,” you say as you grab plates from your kitchenette. “You caught me off guard—I just got out of the shower, too.”

Your apartment is cleaner than his and Taehyung’s looks on days where they actually try to tidy up. Jungkook wishes he had those capabilities, but when he’s presented with the options of cleaning up or taking a nap, he will invariably choose the latter. And the clothes you’re wearing, even if you insist that they’re your nasty lounge clothes from high school, Jungkook couldn’t care less about. You look nice. 

You always look nice. 

Once you’re all settled, you tear open the stapled paper bag to reveal the glory hidden inside. Jungkook gets one whiff of the scent and nearly passes out, huffing it in like an Expo marker. He was a little worried that he hadn’t gotten enough, but as you begin to take each box of rice and biodegradable container of noodles and vegetables and soup and everything in between, he realizes he had nothing to stress over.

“Oh my God, we’re gonna have so many leftovers,” you say excitedly, eyeing all of the dishes as you break apart your wooden chopsticks. Every smell imaginable fills your apartment, and it makes Jungkook’s mouth water and his stomach rumble. “This cost way more than the hot chocolate and croissant, definitely. Let me Venmo you back half.”

Jungkook shakes his head defiantly, taking the rice out of your reach as punishment. “Absolutely not. I won’t let you pay me back a single cent.”

“What? That’s not in the contract,” you say with a frown, making to pull it up on your phone just as proof. 

“Who cares about the contract?” Jungkook says, snatching your phone right from your slippery fingers and placing it on the end table next to him. “I’m just doing the boyfriend thing.” 

You attack the mountain of food in front of you like an all-you-can-eat buffet, taking a handful of noodles here and a couple pieces of broccoli there, a few dumplings and a bit of soy sauce, a spoonful of rice, some of the wonton soup. Your plates are filled to the brim with helpings from every single container, too excited to save any one dish for another day. 

“God, this is just what I needed,” you say with a pleased sigh, tossing your head back. 

“Long day?” Jungkook asks before he puts a chopstick-ful of rice in his mouth. 

“The longest. I don’t know if I told you this, but my Communications 316 professor is absolutely incompetent. He has no idea what he’s talking about, confuses himself half the time, and doesn’t listen to the TA. It’s ridiculous. I might as well teach the damn class,” you say, clearly exasperated. 

“Sounds awful,” Jungkook comments with a wince. If he ever had a professor like that he would just drop the class and change majors, but you don’t seem to be taking as dramatic an approach. Maybe Jungkook’s just a chronic over-reactor.

“It is. Never take Comm 316, you’ll actually want to jump into a black hole. What are you majoring in, again?”

“Physics,” Jungkook tells you over a mouthful of food. 

“Wow, that’s amazing,” you say, and for once in his lifetime, Jungkook knows that there’s someone out there genuinely impressed by his choice of study. Normally he gets much more sarcastic comments, or the person he’s chatting with will just say “Flex” before changing the topic. “Do you wanna do engineering, astrophysics, or theoretical stuff?”

“Not sure yet,” he tells you, “but I’m thinking more astrophysics. I think space is really cool.”

“Astrophysics, holy shit! That’s like, the coolest thing you could probably ever major in. Meanwhile, I’m probably gonna end up being the personal assistant to some Instagram-famous fifteen-year-old.”

Jungkook refuses to let you put down your major. He’s a shitty conversationalist and an even worse public speaker. Jungkook thinks anybody who pursues an avenue like Communication could probably debate his ass into next month. “Hey, those fifteen-year-olds make bank, so I see no issue with that.” 

You laugh, nodding. Jungkook leans over the table to help himself to another couple of dumplings, looking back at you as you smile at him, a single grain of rice stuck on the corner of your lips. In the warm evening light of your apartment, the soothing noises of ambulances and honking cars below you, Jungkook decides to remember this moment. Save it forever. 

“Let’s take a photo,” Jungkook suggests, even though he’s already taking his phone out of his back pocket. “This is too good not to remember.”

“Right now?” You ask, caught off-guard. “I just stuffed my face with Chinese food, I’m wearing a t-shirt I got when I was in tenth grade, and we’re in my grody apartment. Are you sure?”

Jungkook’s already setting up the phone stand, stacking empty biodegradable Chinese takeout boxes to create the optimal angle. “I gotta get three Instagram posts in, remember?” He says. Because that’s obviously the only reason he wants to take a photo of the two of you, right here, right now. 

Obviously. 

You’re still hesitant, but Jungkook sets up the self-timer on his phone and leans back into the couch, pulling you in next to him. “Just relax,” he tells you. “You look wonderful.”

The first few pictures are classics—back straight, head up, chin down, hair fixed. Jungkook lets his phone click like a photobooth, making sure the camera gets every one of his angles. Then, the two of you start to get a bit more playful, coming up with creative (or uncreative) poses—peace signs, finger guns, winking faces. You drape your body over his legs and get a few of you looking like perpendicular line segments, a couple of you cuddling, one of you squishing his cheeks. 

“Okay, last one,” Jungkook says, setting his phone up. He expects it to just be a relatively normal one, your bodies close to each other but not aggressively so, but a second before the camera shutter clicks you plant your lips on his cheek, making him smile as he gasps. His phone snaps the last photo, and it takes everything in Jungkook’s power not to immediately look at the final shot.

“What was that for?” Jungkook asks, fingers tracing over where your lips pressed against his cheek.��

“Just ‘cause,” you say nonchalantly, beginning to gather up your leftovers. “I didn’t know you had a scar on your cheek.”

“I got it when I was little,” Jungkook says, finger lingering on top of it. 

“It’s cute,” you tell him, standing up to pack away the leftovers in your fridge and toss out anything you completely devoured. “You’re cute sometimes, you know that, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s speechless. He stands in the middle of your apartment like a fish out of water, eyes wide as they watch you flitter around your kitchenette. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if there is anything to say. 

“This was a lot of fun,” you tell him when you bid your goodbyes, leaning against the doorframe of your apartment. “Thanks for bringing me Chinese.”

“Thanks for inviting me in to eat it with you,” Jungkook says back. “We should do this again sometime.”

“You mean like a date?” You ask, eyebrows raised. “What do you think we are, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Jungkook laughs. “My mistake. We can have a friend dinner, if you want.”

You grin. “Hmm, I think I like boyfriend and girlfriend better, don’t you think?” You ask. 

Jungkook pretends to ponder the question, like he doesn’t already know the answer. “Me too.”

The entire way home, Jungkook’s cheek tingles. 

Jungkook (10:18AM): hey what r u doing rn??

You (10:18AM): i’m about to go to this volunteering thing at the animal shelter !!!

Jungkook (10:18AM): wow really?? that sounds like fun

You (10:18AM): yeah i’m really excited !!  You (10:19AM): are you an animal person jungkook

Jungkook stares at his phone distantly. He was secretly hoping you’d be free, because it’s a Saturday and he’s got nothing planned the entire day. He could do work, sure, but that’s a Sunday problem. And he just wanted to do something with you. Sue him. 

Jungkook (10:19AM): yeah i love animals Jungkook (10:19AM): except iguanas fuck those guys

You: (10:20AM): do i wanna know????

Jungkook (10:20AM): in high school my brother got an iguana and it ate my school id so i couldn’t buy lunch for the whole year

You (10:20AM): i’ll ask later You (10:20AM): but my volunteering thing isn’t until 10:30 do you wanna come?

It’s not that Jungkook’s heart skips a beat, but it skips half of one.

Jungkook (10:21AM): are you sure?? i don’t want to be a bother

You (10:21AM): no come !!! it’ll be so much fun !!! we’re just holding an outdoor adoption fair for the day so we get to spend time with animals and encourage people to adopt them it’ll be lots of fun!! You (10:22AM): please come i’ll be so lonely without you :(

You don’t need to say another word. In fact, you pretty much had Jungkook sold the moment you told him what you were doing. He’s already halfway out the door of his apartment by the time he texts you back. 

Jungkook (10:23AM): i’m on my way!!

He gets to your apartment in record time, too excited to spend time with you to be ashamed of the desperation that’s radiating off of him. Jungkook’s not socially starved, nor does he not have other friends he could pass the time with. But he’s been friends with Taehyung, Jimin, and Yoongi ever since he set foot on campus for the first time, which means that he’s spent more time with them the past few years than he has in the past couple of months with you, because that is how math works. And Jungkook hates math, but he knows that he would much rather spend the day with you than anybody else. 

He knocks on your door, only slightly out of breath, to find that you haven’t even put on your shoes yet. 

“You got here quick,” you comment. “Did you run?”

“I didn’t work out this morning,” Jungkook lies like a liar. It’s by no means a good excuse, he just didn’t want you to think he ran all the way just to be with you. He wants to retain some shred of dignity, especially after losing most of it when he agreed to a deal where he would date someone for three months in exchange for money. 

“Sure thing, Batman,” you say. “I’m almost ready, just give me a second.”

Jungkook waits patiently in your doorway, catching his breath and trying to wipe away the sweat that’s slowly beginning to collect on his forehead in a futile attempt to make him seem as cool and natural and not-at-all-excited as possible. It doesn’t seem to be working very well. 

Whatever. Jungkook supposes that there are much worse things than having you think he just wants to spend time with you this afternoon. After all, he really does. 

On the way there, you tell Jungkook all about the cat that your family had when you were growing up. His name was Pickle and he frequently brought your family stolen flowers from neighbors’ gardens, which was both extremely endearing and also rage-inducing. He also exclusively ate cat food that was the combination of meat and vegetables, which made you believe for a solid three years that all mammals were omnivores. They were, in fact, not. 

“I haven’t had a cat since he died when I was thirteen, holy shit I want one so bad,” you say as you arrive at the park right by the shelter, where the adoption fair is being held. “Thanks for coming, by the way. You didn’t have to. You probably have lots of Physics work to do.”

“I wanted to,” Jungkook says instantly, refusing to let you believe otherwise. “I did. That’s why I texted you.”

“To come to the adoption fair?” You ask, waving hello to another one of the volunteers. You must be here often. 

“No,” Jungkook says, faltering slightly. “To, uh, well—to hang out with you, actually.” God, he sounds like he’s twelve. Hang out? To hang out with you? The same way that preteens do because they’re too old for the word playdate? For God’s sake. You’re college students, friends (hopefully, because if not then Jungkook has completely misread this situation), and fake lovers. And Jungkook chooses the phrase hang out to describe time spent with you. 

“Oh,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Your brows furrow slightly, like you’re pondering something too insignificant to say aloud. Jungkook knows that feeling. “Well, I’m glad you texted me, then.”

Jungkook’s glad, too. 

The animal shelter staff, despite his unannounced arrival, are absolutely thrilled that Jungkook’s volunteered to help alongside you. They tell him that he’s got an extremely friendly and marketable face, and will be good for talking to prospective adopters because he’s, by default, extremely charming. 

“I can vouch for that,” you mutter into his ear before another worker asks you to help out with some of the dogs. Jungkook stands there, your words ringing in his ears, as the instructions the shelter coordinator tells him fly right over his ear. Charming, huh?

Realistically, there are plenty of ways that Jungkook could be spending his free Saturday that would be appealing to most, if not all, college students. He could be lazing around in bed, sleeping in until two in the afternoon, and never getting out from under the covers. He could be marathoning his favorite TV show or a new K-drama that Taehyung’s obsessed with, finishing the whole series in a single day. He could go out for brunch like any good college student would, go to an overpriced café and take aesthetically pleasing photos to post online, spend the whole day online shopping. 

But instead, he’s standing in the sun surrounded by prospective owners and a whole bunch of pets, watching as you play with a few of the puppies in the pen as people ask you questions, and Jungkook decides that there’s really nothing else that he would rather be doing than this. 

Here’s the thing: animals are cute, but you with animals is cuter. 

Jungkook comes to this conclusion relatively early in the day, after staring at you unabashedly as you play with the puppies, pick up cats for people to hold, and encourage prospective owners to consider older animals in the shelter because they give just as much love and joy as the babies. He is, admittedly, not doing the thing he came here to do (volunteer), but hardly anyone is paying attention to him and he is, in turn, paying attention to you. And you’re doing your work, so does it really matter if he’s not doing his?

In the end, Jungkook actually does begin to contribute something of substance to the event, but only because the coordinator assigned him to the animal registration table for people adopting pets, which means he doesn’t get a free pass to watch you play with puppies for the rest of the day. 

Jungkook volunteers, he swears, but he doesn’t do it that often, which makes participating in this even feel that much better. He can’t help but smile and congratulate the brand new owners on their new best friend(s), happily filling in the official papers and watching as each animal goes to their forever home. It’s humbling, and it makes him happy, and Jungkook doesn’t think he could get that sort of feeling if he just stayed at home watching Netflix. 

The day ends up being a success. At least, that’s what the coordinator tells him, because over half of the pets available got adopted in that single afternoon, which seems to be quite the accomplishment. The good news is that even though Jungkook was objectively less than helpful, the coordinator isn’t shouting at him because everything turned out well anyway. So that’s always a plus. 

“We’re gonna start packing up, folks,” the coordinator says into her megaphone as the day winds down. “Animals first, equipment second!”

“Jungkook, come over here! Quick!” 

For a second, Jungkook thinks you’re in pain, but it’s enough of a second for him to turn to the sound of your voice and dash over, responsibilities (as per usual) forgotten. 

And then it turns out that you’re nowhere near injured, or hurt, or anything even resembling endangerment of your wellbeing. 

Instead, what he sees is this:

You, waiting in the middle of the park, grass tickling your ankles. You, grinning as you meet his eyes from where he stands a few feet away from you. You, with your t-shirt from the rescue center and plain jeans on. 

You, with a kitten in your arms, mewling softly as you stroke its back. 

“Are we allowed to adopt now that the fair is over?” Jungkook jokes as he comes over to you. It’s when he’s right by your side that he notices something different about the cat, at the exact same time you point it out—

“She’s only got three-legs!” You say, overwhelmed with affection and completely endeared. “Look at her! She’s only got three legs,” you say, motioning for Jungkook to come closer. 

“Do you know what happened?” Jungkook asks, leaning down to hold his fingers out for the kitten to sniff. She does so dutifully, pressing her little pink nose up against Jungkook’s fingertips before deeming him a satisfactory human being. Instinctively, Jungkook begins to rub at her cheek.

“No, only that they found her with something on her leg and it had to be amputated when they brought her to the shelter,” you say, bottom lip coming out in a pout as you look down at her. 

Jungkook grins. “What’s her name?”

“Miracle,” you tell him. 

Fitting name. 

“Isn’t she adorable?” You ask, holding Miracle close to you as she clings to your chest. It’s clear that the both of you have already latched on to each other. 

Jungkook nods, because how could he ever disagree? You’re standing in the middle of the local park as the afternoon draws to a close and the evening light sets in. It’s a little chillier now that the sun is going down, but it casts a hazy glow over your surroundings. And you’re just waiting there, a kitten in your hands and a smile on your face, and Jungkook can’t resist. 

He can’t resist the way you look, how you could possibly look like this. He can’t resist as he pulls out his phone, not-so-subtly pulling up the camera so he can snap a few quick shots. Because pictures like this deserve to be remembered forever. 

You don’t notice until the fifth picture in, when Miracle begins to meow, drawing your attention away from her and up to Jungkook. 

“Oh my God, hey!” You shout softly, trying not to frighten Miracle or attract the attention of any of the other volunteers who are very obviously doing more work than you two at the current moment. “How could you snipe me like that? I’ve got cat fur and dog slobber all over me, I probably look like trash.”

“You don’t,” Jungkook insists, but he pulls his phone out of your reach anyway. Just in case. “You look fine.”

“Fine does not equate to picture-worthy,” you hiss, but you’re laughing. 

“I’m a photographer, Y/N,” Jungkook says, patting himself on the back. “If I need a work a little magic, then I will.”

You scoff. “Sorry that my sweaty ass isn’t up to par with your Instagram standards,” you joke, making Jungkook chuckle. You put Miracle back into the pen she was waiting in throughout the fair, beginning to wrap up. “But at least you finally have two pictures of the same girl on your Instagram page.”

Jungkook chuckles again, but this one isn’t as real.

He had forgotten about Instagram entirely. 

“Jungkook, your fucking phone alarm keeps going off!” 

Jungkook’s in the bathroom, halfway through the latest John Mulaney Netflix comedy special, doing his goddamn business. 

“It’s for my laundry!” He shouts back. He needs to go and pick it up at the laundromat around the corner before someone steals one sock from every pair and leaves him, hypothetically, sock-less. “Can you just turn it off?”

“Fine!”

Jungkook thinks that’s the end of the conversation, so he unpauses the comedy special and laughs as John Mulaney tells anecdotes about his youth. And then, two seconds later, there’s banging on the bathroom door. 

“Jeon Jungkook!” Taehyung shrieks, accompanying every syllable with an equally as impactful thump on the door. “Open this door!”

“I’m on the goddamn toilet!” Jungkook shouts back. What does a locked bathroom door mean to Taehyung? Doesn’t he know what the hell Jungkook’s doing in here? “Give me a second!”

“We have to talk, right now!” Taehyung yells. Their neighbors are probably calling down noise complaints at this very moment. 

“What the fuck,” Jungkook mutters, closing out of the Netflix app on his phone and hurrying himself up. He finishes up his goddamn business, laments the cutting short of the comedy special, washes his hands, and opens the door. 

The moment it cracks open even a sliver, Taehyung is crashing into the bathroom, holding up Jungkook’s phone like it just murdered his entire nuclear and extended family. Jungkook nearly stumbles back into the shower at the force of everything, before Taehyung dangles his own goddamn phone right in front of his face. 

“What the fuck is this?”

“Uh…” Jungkook says, a little frightened and a lot confused, “the time?”

“Not that, you dumbass!” Taehyung says. “Your lockscreen!”

“What about it?” Jungkook asks, desperately trying to scramble for his phone back. And while Taehyung may have the upper hand and the element of surprise, Jungkook is swole and swift, and he manages to rip it out of Taehyung’s grasp before long. 

“It’s of Y/N! Are you serious!” In hindsight, maybe Jungkook shouldn’t have taken his phone out of Taehyung’s hands, because now both of them are smacking Jungkook’s shoulders repeatedly like the worst cuckoo clock ever. 

Jungkook pushes Taehyung off of him and gains his bearings. “So? We’re dating.”

Fake dating. Minor detail. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says like a popular white girl in a teenage movie. “But you’ve never set a photo of someone as your lockscreen before! Or ever!”

“She’s cute, what do you mean?” Jungkook says defensively. Taehyung is reading way too into this. 

Taehyung frowns. “I’ve known you since before we started college, and in that time not once have I ever seen your phone background be of a picture of a girl, or anybody, you were romantically interested in. Ever. I’m pretty sure you’d set your lockscreen as Hyuna before you’d set it to a picture of a girl you like. Let alone one with a three-legged kitten!”

“First of all, I love Hyuna, so fuck you,” Jungkook says pointedly. He’d die for her, full stop. If Hyuna told Jungkook to abandon his twenty-first century life and live as a hermit for the rest of his life, he’d do it without question. “Second of all, is it really that big of a deal? We’re just dating. It seemed like a natural segue.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says, taking another step back from Jungkook. He looks him up and down like a doctor inspecting the body for wounds, hands on his hips. Then he says, “I can’t believe you’re actually starting to fall for somebody.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to tell Taehyung he’s being overdramatic and ridiculous (as he usually is), but something stops him. There’s no way he could be falling for you. Absolutely not. You’re just friends, and after these three months are over you’re just going to go back to being friends. Friends who are, collectively, four hundred dollars wealthier. It seems like a good deal. It’s also fake in every sense of the word. 

There’s no way that the feeling are real. 

How could they be?

Min Yoongi does not want to make a big deal out of his and Hoseok’s first anniversary. Jung Hoseok wants to hire a plane to write JHS ♡ MYG in the sky. 

Naturally, they have a house party. 

It’s half an excuse to celebrate the first of what Jungkook is probably correct to assume is many, many more anniversaries, and half an excuse to throw a party that involves alcohol but does not involve frat boys. Which are two criteria that Jungkook heavily considers when figuring out plans for the night. 

Because it goes without saying, Jungkook invites you as his plus one. If he didn’t, Taehyung would probably accuse Jungkook of trying to fake date for money (which he obviously isn’t already doing), and then steal his manga collection and sell it on the streets, in that order. These are things that Jungkook definitely does not want. Also, you know Hoseok, which means that by the transitive property in Jungkook’s eighth grade geometry class, you know Yoongi. And that basically rounds out Jungkook’s friend group. 

By the time you and Jungkook arrive at Hoseok’s apartment just a couple of blocks off of campus, he can already hear the bass thumping through the floorboards outside. Hoseok and Yoongi have good music taste, for sure, but there is no way either of them would willingly set the volume that high. Which means that—

“Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, already buzzed, as the two of you step inside Hoseok’s apartment. He wraps an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, nursing a nearly-empty glass of red wine. Jungkook is right to assume this is definitely not his first glass. Taehyung waves hello to you as well, doing his rounds as per usual, before fluttering off to cling onto someone else. 

Hoseok’s house party looks less like a party and more like a house. The lights are dim (courtesy of Yoongi), hors d'oeuvres are set out on the counter island (courtesy of Seokjin), and only their closest friends (plus guests) are here (courtesy of Hoseok). The only thing that might elicit any sort of party vibe is the booming bass that rings throughout the room as music plays from their television (courtesy of, you guessed it, Taehyung). 

“Hey, Jungkook!” Hoseok shouts from where he’s lingering around the kitchen island, popping an olive into his mouth. He waves the both of you over to where he and Yoongi are standing, drinking their tasteful wine and eating their tasteful tapas. “You’re the girlfriend, right?” Hoseok asks, pointing to you with a smile. 

“That’s me,” you say, nodding. “Hoseok and Yoongi, right? I recognize you from—” 

“From the pictures,” Jungkook interjects. You look to Jungkook with a puzzled expression, and he raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes unhelpfully. “I showed some to you, remember?” He says, trying to be natural. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say, catching on. Changing the topic, you turn to Hoseok and say, “You direct a dance group, right Hoseok?” 

“Yeah! You’ve heard of it?” Hoseok says, eyes lighting up. He’s always happy to talk about the things he loves (dance, chemistry, and Yoongi). 

“My friend is in it,” you tell him. “Do you know Chungha?”

“Oh my God, yes!” Hoseok exclaims excitedly. “I think that when I graduate, I’m gonna make her the leader. She’s so talented.”

“Learned from the best,” Yoongi adds in softly, blushing. Hoseok responds by pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, grabbing another olive to go as he heads off to greet other guests. 

With Hoseok out of the picture, Yoongi’s disposition morphs almost instantly. In the blink of an eye, he goes from humbled, in-love boyfriend, to jaded, suspicious college student. 

Jungkook opens his mouth to explain to Yoongi before his friend reads him like a board book, but Yoongi beats him to it. 

“Let me guess,” Yoongi says, eyes narrowed as he stares the both of you down. Unlike Jungkook, who’s already caving into himself under the weight of Yoongi’s gaze, you’re holding onto his arm firmly, looking at Yoongi with a stern glare. “You asked her to pose as your girlfriend so you can get the cash?”

“Well,” Jungkook says, because technically Yoongi’s wrong. He didn’t ask. You did. And you’re splitting the cash, so that solves that issue. “Not really,” he says, like a kid trying to get out of punishment for something he very clearly did. 

Yoongi frowns. He turns to you. “Please tell me that you’re getting compensated for hanging out with my dumbass friend.”

“Hey!” Jungkook cries indignantly. 

“Yes,” you assure Yoongi. “I am. But thanks for the concern.” Just then, Hoseok calls you over to introduce you to a couple of his friends from his dance group, and you wave goodbye to Jungkook and Yoongi before scurrying off. 

Yoongi looks at Jungkook, and Jungkook feels fucking transparent under his sharp gaze. He grimaces. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?

“Yes,” Jungkook insists, taking some offense to what Yoongi’s insinuating. He’s got everything under control, thank you very much. The guidelines to your arrangement were laid out very clearly in a Google Doc, electronically signed by the both of you. You’re getting along well. Jungkook hopes that you’ll be still friends after all of this is over, because he likes spending time with you. Go figure. “I’m fine, Yoongi. You don’t need to worry.”

Yoongi looks skeptical, but he drops the subject anyway. “If you say so,” he says. “I just don’t want you to expect something you aren’t getting.”

“What do you mean?”

Jimin finds Jungkook, in that instant, and drags him to participate in karaoke with you, him, and Taehyung. As he’s getting pulled away from the conversation. Jungkook looks at Yoongi desperately for a response. Yoongi doesn’t answer. 

Two rounds of early 2000’s karaoke and several voice cracks later, you end up next to Jungkook’s side as the party rages around you. Well, not necessarily rages. More like continues. 

“What did Yoongi say to you?” You ask, leaning in to whisper into Jungkook’s ear. 

“Oh, he was just making sure that I knew what I was doing,” Jungkook says. It’s not not the truth. 

“And do you?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you look up at him. 

Jungkook falters. 

He thinks he does. 

“Taehyung, did you drink this whole bottle—god damnit,” Seokjin’s voice echoes throughout the apartment as Taehyung happily bounces out of the kitchen, even more tipsy than he was when he slung his arm around Jungkook as he and you walked into Hoseok’s apartment. He’s not flat out intoxicated yet, but he’s certainly getting there. Hopefully, Jimin has the sense to keep more alcohol out of his hands. 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung coos happily as he peppers platonic kisses all over Jungkook’s cheek. This is natural. “Don’t forget about the deal, alright? I still have the four hundred dollars if you manage to date for that long.” He singsongs his words. In Taehyung’s stupor, he seems to have forgotten that you are still standing right next to Jungkook, watching as his best friend plops wet smooches on the side of Jungkook’s face 1) like it’s nobody’s business and 2) like he doesn’t already have a boyfriend he does this regularly with anyway. 

Jungkook turns to you, eyes wide, but you pat his shoulder and calm him down. 

It’s fine, you mouth to him. I already know. 

Obviously, Jungkook’s mind supplies unhelpfully. That’s why you’re here. Because you already know about the deal. And the money. Obviously. 

“You know what,” Taehyung says, finger pointed. “I’ve never seen you kiss Y/N,” he continues, and Jungkook already doesn’t like the direction Taehyung’s headed in. “You guys should do it.”

“Should we, though?” Jungkook say, looking hesitant.

“I know you, Jungkook,” Taehyung says accusingly, “I know that you would start fake dating something just so you could get the cash. Prove that you aren’t.”

Jungkook frowns. “You know you actually have no power or right to make us kiss, so—”

Before Jungkook can continue, you flip him around to face you and pull him in close, hands on his neck as you plant your lips on his. Jungkook nearly stumbles back from the shock of it all, but you keep your grip tight and slowly, his hands find his way to to your waist. Distantly, he can register Taehyung (and probably everyone else in the room) shouting, but all he feels is your lips on his and his heart on fire. It’s by no means a super majestic, romantic, movie-worthy kiss, but Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and he instantly relaxes at your touch, and that’s never happened to him before. 

When you part, it feels like Jungkook’s heart is about to beat right out of his chest. 

Taehyung seems perfectly satisfied, and has already moved on to pressing up against Jimin in an effort to upstage the both of you. He will definitely succeed in his endeavors, mostly because Taehyung and Jimin are a thing, and Jungkook and you, well. 

You turn to Jungkook, cheeks warm from both the rush and the embarrassment, and you grin. Jungkook takes one look at you, and his heart starts to race. He maybe wants to do that again. Actually, he knows that he wants to do that again. 

Fuck.

You (3:23PM): hey are you busy rn?

Jungkook (3:23PM): no Jungkook (3:23PM): what’s up?

You (3:23PM): do you wanna go out and get acai bowls? You (3:23PM): i feel like we gotta talk about some stuff

Jungkook (3:24PM): yeah Jungkook (3:24PM): right now?

You (3:24PM): sure You (3:24PM): meet in 15?

Jungkook (3:25PM): okay!

Jungkook is nervous. 

Granted, Jungkook gets nervous when he’s spontaneously offered a baby to be held and he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t frequently hold babies, but still. He’s nervous. 

He’s sitting in the acai bowl place with his hands in his pockets, palms sweating. Logically, he should take his hands out of his pockets to remedy this, but if he does that then he’s just going to rub his sweaty hands through his obnoxiously long hair until you get there, and he doesn’t want to pour his heart out to you with sweaty hair. 

So he sits on the high stools by the counters against the windows with sweaty hands and a nervous blink, watching to see when you’ll walk in. 

It occurs to him then that if all goes well, you might actually end up holding hands after all of this is over, and for God’s sake he cannot have sweaty hands, so he gets up and grabs about fifteen napkins from the dispenser to the suspicious glare of the underpaid teenage worker behind the cash register, rubbing his palms profusely on them. 

It is then, as Jungkook stands looking simultaneously like a fish in water and like he just walked out of middle school PE, that the bell above the door rings and you walk in, hands in the pockets of your hoodie and your backpack resting on your shoulders. 

“Hey,” you say softly, standing next to him as you stare up at the menu board. Jungkook’s come here before with you, and he’s already memorized your order. 

“Hey,” Jungkook replies, weirdly out of breath. 

“What are you getting?” You ask. Jungkook hates how neither of you know how to start the conversation. 

“Oh, just, uh, my usual, I guess,” Jungkook says with a shrug. He has been here a total of one other time (with you), and he didn’t really like what he got last time, but now it’s been established as his ‘usual’ and he’s in too deep to change it now. 

You end up back where Jungkook was sitting before, next to the giant glass window that overlooks the busy street. Jungkook sets his acai bowl down on the counter, turns to face you, and takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. 

“I—”

“I think I like you,” you blurt out first, words tumbling out of your mouth like an avalanche. You’re staring at Jungkook, biting down on your lip nervously, and Jungkook sputters. “I’m just gonna tell you up front. I think I have a crush on you. No, I know that I do.”

“I—” Jungkook says again, floundering. “I don’t—” 

“I’m really sorry,” you say, turning back to look at the strawberries in your bowl. “I think it’s been building up slowly for a while, but ever since that night at Hoseok’s house I just… I realized, you know?”

Jungkook’s silent. 

“And I knew that I had to tell you because we’ve been really clear about all of the terms of this… agreement and I wasn’t going to hide this from you either,” you’re rambling now, words practically bouncing on top of each other. “I’m really sorry, Jungkook. It’s okay if you’re angry or something, I know that this wasn’t part of the contract because you kind of have to find a new partner since we both made it clear that this relationship wasn’t inherently romantic even though I made it into one anyway. Just say the word and we can call this thing off. I’m sorry.”

You stare down into your acai bowl like it just set the curve for your least favorite class. Jungkook sits there, acai bowl untouched, words processing. 

“Do you… want to say anything?” You ask, nervous again. 

“Don’t apologize,” Jungkook says. His hands are all sweaty again, but he barely pays them any attention. “I don’t care. Fuck the contract, honestly. It’s a Google Docs.” You’re gazing at him with wide-eyes, shocked that he’s even opened his mouth. “I’m really glad that you and I are doing this together. I probably would have never even met you if it weren’t for you interrupting me and Yoongi at the coffee place.”

You grin. 

Jungkook realizes, then, that he’s been waiting too long to do this. 

“Honestly, I—” He says before chuckling, sweaty hand scratching at the nape of his neck, “I was gonna tell you something too. But you beat me to it.”

“Hmm?” You ask, looking at him. 

“I think I like you, too,” Jungkook says, and his heart seems to finally settle. “No, I know I do. You’re right—it’s been a long time coming, but the party at Hoseok’s just… I realized. I needed you to know that, too. You deserved to know that this is reciprocated.” Jungkook gets a burst of confidence (probably from the cool air that rushes through the room whenever someone opens the door), and takes your hands in his own. They’re sweaty, and Jungkook feels like he just ran a marathon, but it feels almost like they belong. Like this moment was meant to be. 

“We may have started this thing because of my dumbass friends, but I want to continue it with you,” Jungkook says. He’s six lectures behind in his differential equations class, he hasn’t done the readings for his Korean-American history course since the beginning of the semester, his diet has mostly consisted of midnight ramen and chocolate chip granola bars, but he has never felt lighter. “I like you a lot, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank God,” you say dramatically, heaving a sigh. “Because I like you a lot, too.”

Naturally, it’s smooth sailing from there. At least one aspect of Jungkook’s life is working out for him. His differential equations lectures, history readings, and diet are still works in progress. 

“So, can I delete the Google Drive document?” You ask, pulling out your phone. “I don’t think we need it anymore, do we?”

“Unless you still want to reference it for instructions on how to be a good significant other,” Jungkook jokes. He still hasn’t touched his acai bowl. He definitely needs to come clean and order something else next time. “My standards are pretty high.”

“Hey! I exceed all of those standards on a regular basis, don’t I? I bought you hot chocolate and a croissant that one day. And I’m good with your friends. Isn’t that, like, what all guys want in a relationship?”

Jungkook pouts. It kind of is, but truth be told you exceed his standards just by existing. “No,” he insists. “Sometimes they just want to be little spoon but everybody makes fun of them.”

“Aw, do you want to be little spoon?” You ask, totally endeared. You press a kiss to his cheek and it makes his skin turn cherry red. “You can be little spoon. I think that I’m a great cuddler.”

“We’ll have to test that theory,” Jungkook says with an eyebrow raise. 

“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” you say, leaning into him. Jungkook lets his body be enveloped by your warmth, basking in it, before you jump up, something else popping into your head. “Oh! We should probably tell your friends to call off the deal, don’t you think?” You say. “This isn’t really about the money anymore, is it. I’d feel bad.”

Jungkook has half a mind to tell you that Taehyung would probably bathe in one hundred dollar bills if their apartment had a bath, so four hundred dollars is practically pocket change in his eyes, but you’re right. As usual, you’re right. Curse you and your good-hearted nature. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jungkook concedes easily. You could probably tell him to change his major to English and he would listen to you. “I’ll tell them tomorrow.”

“Oh God, they’re gonna roast us so hard for making a deal,” you say, face-palming. This is true, but Jungkook’s friends will get over it. Jimin’s a hopeless romantic and Taehyung will just be overwhelmingly thrilled that Jungkook actually managed to hold down a relationship. 

“They’ll get over it,” Jungkook says. He presses a kiss to your forehead and lets his heart flutter. 

“You think anything’s gonna change?” You ask, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Jungkook pauses for a second. Wonders if there’s something to fear. And he decides that he couldn’t care less about that. “Even if it does, I don’t care. As long as we’re together.”

“We’ve been summoned,” Taehyung says as he and Jimin arrive at the group study room Jungkook booked specifically for this occasion. 

“By who?” Jungkook asks, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “Because it wasn’t me.”

“No, you’re right,” Taehyung says, collapsing on the chair across from Jungkook. “It was this angry gremlin with hair that looks like a wet mop. Let’s see… what what his name again?”

If there wasn’t a massive table separating them, Jungkook would throw hands at this very instant. 

“The fact that you called both of us here frightens me greatly,” Jimin says as he takes a seat next to Taehyung, their hands interlacing almost instantly. “Either you’re about to tell us you’re dropping out or that Taehyung’s cheating on me with you.”

Jungkook frowns. “Why the fuck would I ever date Taehyung?”

Taehyung gasps. “What do you mean? I’m a catch. Admit it, Jungkookie, you’d date me in a heartbeat.”

“I would literally rather have Jimin vomit into my own mouth,” Jungkook deadpans. Jimin nearly actually pukes at the mention of such an action, and Jungkook decides that even the pure thought of that makes him want to cannonball into a volcano. “But I’m not cheating on either one of you with the other one, and I’m not about to drop out.”

“Oh, thank God,” Taehyung says dramatically, like he says everything else. “I thought that we would lose our resident Buff Boy who eats all of my leftovers at meals. I was worried there for a second.”

“I hate you,” Jungkook tells Taehyung genuinely. 

“If you’re not dropping out, then why did you call us here?” Jimin asks curiously. “To study? Taehyung doesn’t even know where his backpack is.”

“You lost your backpack?” Jungkook says, in awe. He knew Taehyung was careless, but he didn’t think he was that careless. Maybe he really has lost all fucks. Which does not bode well for him, considering he has to write a thesis in order to graduate. 

“I just don’t know where it is right now, alright?” Taehyung says, ashamed. He very well should be. What kind of college student loses their backpack? “Why did you ask us here?” He changes the topic so as not to be subject to any more shaming. 

“Uh, to talk about the whole deal thing,” Jungkook says awkwardly. He has no idea how he’s going to go about this. He walked into this group study room about as prepared as Taehyung is when he walks into his first round of midterms. 

“Ah, yes,” Taehyung nods sneakily. “Honestly, Jungkook, I’m impressed that you and Y/N have even been going on for this long. Does she know about it?”

Jimin smacks Taehyung in the side. “Obviously not, otherwise they wouldn’t still be dating. Have some faith in our Jungkookie for not betraying this deal to her.”

“Actually—”

“Oh, yeah,” Taehyung says with a laugh. “If she knew about this, she’d absolutely break up with you.”

“I’m. Aware.” Jungkook says stiffly. 

“You’ve exceeded all expectations, Jungkook,” Taehyung says happily. “You got a girlfriend and you managed to maintain a relationship for nearly three months all without mentioning the deal to her.”

“Your faith in me is overwhelming.” Jungkook frowns. 

“We’re very impressed with you, you know? She seems really nice, too. I thought you’d, like, resort to Tinder dates just so you could get the money,” Jimin adds on. 

“Oh, speaking of money, since Jungkook’s doing such a good job, how about we…” Taehyung pauses for dramatic effect, which is something he does so frequently that it just makes every one of his sentences overdramatic, “raise the stakes?” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows just as an add-on to the proposition. 

“Seriously, Tae? Don’t waste your money on something like this—”

“But you’re doing so well! Why wouldn’t you want more money?”

The nagging college student part of his brain tells him to just cave and accept the money, because a higher payment means more money for the both of you, which is… tempting. Jungkook is, still at heart, a desperate and money-starved college student.

But he knows he can’t. Not because it would be a waste of Taehyung’s resources, but because neither of you need the money anymore. What for? You’re already dating. 

“Because—”

“Even I would accept it, and I’m an international student,” Taehyung says with a laugh. “Y/N doesn’t even need to know!”

Something in Jungkook snaps. 

“You know what, you guys?” Jungkook says, standing up from his seat angrily, hands slamming onto the table. “No. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want you guys to raise the stakes or whatever. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be paid to date someone.”

“But what does it matter if she doesn’t know?” Taehyung asks, a single eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“It matters because I care about her! For fuck’s sake, that’s why it matters,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair out of exasperation. “It matters because it’s about the principle. I care about her, and I don’t need any sort of incentive to date her. I just want to.”

“But—” Taehyung says again. 

“She knows, you dumbass!” Jungkook shouts. “She’s well aware that there was money on the line. We started dating because we came up with this—this agreement to split the money once the three months were over. But then we both realized we actually wanted to date each other for, you know, an actual relationship, and we decided to get rid of the deal. Which is why I called you guys over here. To tell you that I don’t wanna do it anymore. I’m out.”

“Seriously, Jungkook?” Jimin says. “You started fake-dating someone for money and then you fell for her?”

“She is really nice,” Jungkook insists. “You said it yourself, Jimin. I care about her.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says, speechless, for once in his life. “I never knew you actually went through with all of this. I didn’t even think you’d manage to do it at all. You had me fooled.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “Me too. The fact that you guys even thought this deal was a good idea at the time is just… it’s ridiculous. I was dumb, too, for accepting it. But I don’t wanna do it anymore.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says with a simple nod. He’s holding Jimin’s hand, which means all this talk about romance and dating is making him sappy. “We don’t have to do it anymore. I’m sorry for being so obnoxious about it. We’ll call it off.”

Jimin raises his hand, almost like he’s scared to say something. “I know we’re calling this off, but since Y/N knows about this whole deal in the first place, I feel like we should do something to make it up to her. You know, because she got roped into this thing.”

“I think that’ll be nice. Something meaningful, too. Not just money,” Taehyung adds. 

Jungkook grins. He knows exactly what to get.

When Jungkook knocks on your door the next afternoon, he can barely hold his grin in.

“Jungkook?” You say when you open the door to see him, holding a nicely-wrapped but suspicious-looking box in both of his hands. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Jungkook says happily. 

“I don’t like that look on your face,” you immediately say as you usher him inside. “You’re scaring me. You text me are you at your place rn? and when I say yes, I receive no further information.”

Jungkook just smiles. “I have a present for you.”

“I can see that. Can I ask why?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend.”

You squint your eyes. “Is that a good enough reason?”

“I think so. It’s also from Taehyung and Jimin, but don’t give them most of the credit. It’s mine. I got this for you. Because you are my girlfriend and I am your boyfriend.”

“O...kay,” you say hesitantly, hands held out as Jungkook places the box in your palms. You sink under its weight, clearly surprised at how heavy it is for a simple box. “If this is a prank, I’m breaking up with you.”

“Please don’t break up with me. I think I might love you,” Jungkook says, smile so wide it’s beginning to hurt his cheeks. 

You pause, hand on the top of the box about to open it, and look up at him. Your face is impossibly soft, and Jungkook wishes that you could stay like that for longer, just so he can etch it into his memory. Remember it when he’s sad. “You think you might love me?”

“I think so,” Jungkook says honestly, because it’s true. He’s not sure yet, but he knows he’s on his way. “I think I do.”

“I—” You say, soft grin lacing your features. “I think so, too.”

“Open it!” Jungkook insists, giving your wrist a squeeze as encouragement. “I promise it’s not a prank. But even if it was, please don’t break up with me.”

“You are never this happy, which makes me exceedingly stressed,” you say, hands tentatively beginning to take the lid off of the box. “Why are there holes in the side of this thing? Is something about to squirt out at me?”

“No,” Jungkook says. “It’s nice, I swear.”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“You’re my girlfriend,” Jungkook says. “You deserve it. You wanted it, too. I got exactly what you wanted.”

Before you even have the lid off of the box, you hear a sound.

Meow.  

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[issaxcharlie]

You are the music in me

Pairing: Alive! Luke Patterson x Julie Molina

Request: SICK FIC JUKE: “Juke live together (but not dating yet) with Alex and Reggie all in apartment, both Julie and Luke wake up sick as dogs (flu/strep up to you) and force stay home from classes,sick by Alex. While being alone basically all day they finally admitted they like each other more than friends and get together when they start feeling better few days later.”

THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST ANON🤍

This is not how Julie and Luke saw each other spending the weekend. They took care of Alex for a whole week together and just when the drummer began to feel better, his friends fell to the flu. To stop the chain of illness, Julie decided that it was best for Reggie and Alex to stay in Willie's instead of the apartment the four friends share until she and Luke recovered, but two stubborn patients taking care of each other is a somewhat chaotic combination.

"I can't take those pills, they are huge!" The guitarist has his arms crossed, his lips completely closed in a grimace almost impossible to undo.

"Luke, I've seen you eat two meatball sandwiches at the same time, I’m pretty sure one pill is not going to kill you."

He was about to continue fighting when Julie turns to cough. Every minute that passes she looks weaker and probably what she needs the least is to be carrying with his tantrums. So he takes the pills from her and passes them after maybe 15 tries and 3 possible chokes. Julie laughs slightly with each attempt, satisfied that at least he is trying for her.

Once they both finally finish taking all of their meds, Luke uses what little strength he has left to carry her in bridal style to her room. Julie tries to resist but her lack of strenght is way too much.

"Let yourself be taken care of, Molina." He whispers in her ear as he draws her closer to him. When they finally get to the room Luke gently lays her down on the bed and covers her in blankets to the best of his ability.

He feels bad for her. Because yes, he was there during Alex's illness, but the truth is that he didn't do much. The only reason he got sick is because he shares a room with him. On the other hand, Julie was faithfully taking care of her friend, taking his temperature, reminding him at the correct time about his medicines to the point of setting alarms at 4 in the morning just to make sure he got up to take them, made him hot meals and tea, she was the perfect nurse.

And what does she have instead? Him. The one who hates taking pills, doesn’t know how to take the temperature, much less what time the medicines are due, and he definitely doesn't know how to cook much more than a sandwich.

But something the aspiring musician does know how to do and sure as hell will do for her is giving her all the cuddles she might need (and probably want).

Luke walks to the other side of the bed and sits on the empty side, bringing burrito Julie into his arms, her resting her head on his chest.

He takes a few seconds to enjoy the situation. Yes, it is not at all what they expected to do today, on Saturdays they usually write all morning and rehearse all afternoon to go to some small club to play at night. The band was completely their priority on weekends as they had to study and work to support themselves, so the guitarist couldn't remember a Saturday where they stayed like this, doing nothing but enjoying each other.

Luke had become so immersed in that routine that he had simply sunk to the bottom those feelings that usually shine bright as the sun when they write or sing together or in rare moments like this one when he has her all for him, their hearts beating as one.

Realizing that he liked Julie was as easy as discovering his passion for music. When is her, everyday situations like hearing her rave happily about something that happened during the day feels like listening to his favorite song at full volume. And there’s the other side of it, those special moments like performing on a stage together. The sensations he gets are on a league of their own, their chemistry growing and enveloping in this mesmerizing explosion of energy. She’s this beautiful bright star that for some strange miracle, he is blessed to admire closely without burning.

The love and admiration he feels for her is so big that it terrifies him. In his experience, these types of sensations are not free. His passion for music completely cost him the relationship with his parents, not even the effort of continuing in school has made them give his dream of being a musician a chance.

What will it cost him to chase Julie in a romantic way? Their friendship? The band? What if things don't turn out as he would like and they end up fighting and separating the one thing that has cost them so much to build? Sleepless nights, hunger, blood, sweat, raising this dream has not been easy, could he really dare to risk it in this way? Could he be so selfish?

He often forces himself to think he couldn’t, but at that moment, Julie Molina swings her body to the side so she can look at him head on. Her big, beautiful dark eyes fixed on his.

“You aren’t usually quiet for more than 5 minutes, are you alright? Does something hurt? Do you want me to check your temperature?" With some effort, she manages to free the arm that is not resting on the bed and gently touches Luke's forehead, making sure he is okay.

He can't help but grin in response. She’s just so perfect. She shares the same passion as him, she fully understands the magical feeling of being on stage and it provokes on her the same excitement and adrenaline. She is sweet and cares about everyone, even loves his friends as much as he does. She is determined, smart, funny, beautiful. A lot of times he can't even understand how someone so perfect exists. And she not only exists, but is there next to him, wrapped in his arms.

“I- I’m fine, everything is fine, I promise. Focus on resting that angelic voice of yours.” She blushes as if that is not an already well established fact. He can’t help but look adoringly in response. He just loves to make her blush, being able to cause those reactions in her so easily.

You're right, I can't risk being replaced by one of the many groupies that have been after you lately." He can’t help a cocky grin, she blushes even more and decides to sink her head into his chest.

He takes advantage and hugs her even closer to him, bringing his head closer to her face to whisper in her ear.

"I could never replace you." He feels her expression changing in his chest, probably a smile. Her small hand squeezing his back in response.

“Liar.”

“Are you jealous, Molina? Because that’s hot.” She lets out a nervous laugh and Luke pulls her away just enough to be face to face.

“I’m not jealous.” She murmurs trying to sound sure, the image of those girls way too close to Luke at last weekend’s gig clouding her vision.

“Good, because you don’t have a reason to be.”

The singer looks down, she understood the opposite of what the guitarist was trying to say.

“H- Hey, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” With one of his fingers he carefully lifts her chin so he can see her eyes again.

There's a part of Luke that tells him to take a moment to think about what to say. The logical and sinic part. The one who knows that what he is going to do is going to cost him.

But the other party, the one who has been in love with Julie Molina for 2 years, is already tired of waiting and ready to take a leap of faith. And today that his mind is tired and weak, heart conquers logic.

Neither has spoken aloud about their special relationship, but they know something is there. It is a wordless fact between the two. And maybe it's time to add words to the melody.

“I meant you really don’t have to because all I hear, is you. I have tried to find peace in my soul with hundreds and hundreds of melodies, Julie. And it wasn't until I heard your voice that I found the right one.

Why would I even want to think of anyone else when I have so much more than I could have imagined across the hall every day? It’s always you. You, making sure I eat when I’m in my obsessive writer mode. You, stroking my hair when you think I fell asleep. You, spying me with your beautiful eyes between classes to make sure I’m actually on school. You, watching musicals with me till 5 am on Saturdays even thought we had one hell of a difficult day and a tired night just because you love to see my reactions. You, worried about me feeling bad when you are clearly sicker. It’s always you, Julie.”

In a moment of bravery, Julie brushes her lips against Luke's, waiting for him to make the final decision, which he doesn't take two seconds to make by capturing her lips on his, savoring finally being able to know what it feels like to kiss Julie Molina.

That it tasted like honey was not something that surprised him after seeing her eat several tablespoons of honey with lemon before bringing her to rest.

“Luke, remember when we watched High School Musical 2?” She grins, clearly happy with what just happened.

“Yeah, like a month ago.” he seems surprised with the random question but smiles to encourage her.

“Well, I mentally dedicated you ‘you are the music in me.’ Huh, It feels good to get it off my chest.”

He laughs. Anyone else would be offended or at least scared that the other person won't talk about what just happened, but they have a different connection. Music is the one who unites their souls and for she to tell him something as powerful as ‘you are the music in me’ is almost as strong as an I love you, maybe even stronger. Practically her subtle, awkward and wholesome way of saying he’s her person too.

And that’s more than perfect for him. She doesn’t need to say a speech, much less now that she is not feeling well. The love she shows him in a thousand ways every day is more than enough.

He knows that when they both improve and logic regains territory they will have a lot to discuss about their new relationship, but the most important step has already been taken. For now, all he has to worry about is that the tea turns out drinkable enough and keeping her warm enough with cuddles and kisses on the forehead... maybe some more on the lips too.

THANK YOU FOR READING✨✨

[sneezefiction]

dance with me

Bokuto x Reader - Scenario

event request: “Can you do prompt 2. Dance with me for Bokuto?? Congrats btw!”

a/n: i’m always down to write anything for Bokuto, bb. enjoy some fluffy, slow-dancing moments with your fiancé, Bo, for me please, love!!

warnings: mentions of marriage & engagements

wc: 1350

---

“Y/n, can you set that down for a minute?” Bokuto’s grin peeks over the top of your paperback book as he pushes it down with his hands.

“But Bo, I’m at the best part!” You whine, pulling it towards your chest, away from his grasp.

He’s leaning over you now, a signature pout adorning his expression. You try not to look up, but you can’t help it.

No.

Not those eyes.

His puppy-dog expression tugs at your heartstrings in the worst way. His eyebrows are knitted together with such sorrow, imploring you to give him your undivided attention.

“For me? Please.” He’s begging. Again, a puppy-dog. 

“I just want to be with you…” His head is tilted, eyes pleading.

You sigh helplessly. So needy.

But you give him a soft smile, gently marking the chapter and setting aside your beloved book for the boy you love even more.

His eyes light up immediately, Bokuto’s smile is beaming at full-force once again. Just as it should be.

“Fine-” 

As soon as he gets verbal confirmation, he’s grabbing you firmly by the underneath of your thighs and lifting you up off the couch causing you to gasp. Your balance is thrown completely off. He laughs as you frantically tuck your legs behind his back and throw your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling backward.

With that, you give him a frustrated frown, but the moment his eyes crinkle with mischief, you know you’re in trouble. He squeezes your thighs, tickling you, which forces you to abandon your forced frown and sends you into a bout of bubbling laughter.

A peachy blush forms across his grinning face at the sound of your voice, even though he’s the one who’s supposed to be getting you flustered. Bokuto buries his face into the crook of your neck, drawing your body even closer to his. You tighten your hold around his neck, loving the way his soft, grey hair brushes against your face.

Bokuto is always trying to find new ways to incite that divine sound. 

It’s like music to his ears… 

Music...

“AH MUSIC.” He blurts out, jolting his head back to face you, a flash of excitement glimmering in his golden-yellow eyes.

His sudden movement shouldn’t have startled you since he’s almost never calm for more than a few seconds, but you still haven’t fully adapted to his chaotic tendencies.

“Babe, what?” You question, cocking an eyebrow at his goofy expression. 

“Ahhh, just come with me!” He expresses impatiently.

“Bo, you’re literally carrying me.” You state, but not without a laugh.

So he sets you down gently, allowing your feet to meet the floor before immediately dashing to the next room over, leaving you confused and wondering what your boisterous sweetheart was getting you into this time.

But in all truth, you’ve never loved someone more.

Before Bokuto, you’d always fallen for short-term lovers. “Bad boys,” as Bokuto now cheesily refers to them as.

It was easy to fall for their mysterious, eye-catching personalities and attractive faces. 

They promised you pretty things. Long, steamy nights in dim-lit hotel rooms. Flirty, messy kisses in darkened theaters. Yes, your past boyfriend’s showered you in dirty, devoted promises about what they would do to you.

But it was never about what they would do for you.

You would always end up wishing for more. For something beautiful to happen in the slower, cloudier moments of life. For someone to last longer than the sunny, sensual seconds…

Yet they never stuck around to share the little things. You were always racing against time. Any ounce of conflict or trouble would crumble the already shaky foundation of your relationship.

It was never like that with Bokuto.

It didn’t bother him if you were sick, blowing your nose for 4 days straight or leaning over a toilet seat. He was there. Never leaving you alone except to get groceries or medicine. Holding your hair back and buying you boxes of tissues and cough drops. He would gladly catch a cold for you.

It didn’t matter that you were trapped inside your apartment on your 2 year anniversary, sheets of pouring rain coasting across the window panes, the weather laughing at your attempts to go out. Bokuto was impossible to faze in moments like these. He lit candles across the kitchen counter-tops when the power gave out and wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you concocted a dessert of some sort. You two consumed ungodly amounts of cookie dough that night and shared in celebratory chocolate kisses.

It didn’t change when you were grief-stricken. When you’d locked yourself behind a closet door, sobbing and mourning your most recent loss. He would sit on the opposite side of the door. Waiting for you. Crying with you. That small space under the door? Bokuto used it to feel around for your fingers, linking them together with his digits when he found them. That day, and many times after, he coaxed you out of real and metaphorical closets with loving, gentle words. 

It’s why you chose to set that precious book down today. 

It’s why you let him hold you whenever he’s feeling needy or lonely, a knowing smile etched onto your face.

It’s why you decided to put on that gold-laced engagement ring. Why you accepted his teary-eyed marriage proposal months ago.

Because for so long, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone for more than a couple months at most. It always seemed to end no matter how much effort you put into your side of the relationship.

Yet Bo gave you every reason to believe that he would stick around, making you feel like you always had a place by his side. That you were always wanted. Worthy of a lifelong commitment. 

And whether you liked it or not, he would’ve bugged you until you agreed to marry him, so it’s probably a good thing you accepted the first time around.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts because just as soon as he had raced out of the room, he’s back with a newfound energy, hands full with a massive Bluetooth speaker and a fully-charged phone.

The moment it’s set up, he’s choosing a song. His eyes dash through all of his beloved playlists labeled with strangely specific names. You peer over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the one he’s scrolling through.

The playlist is titled “Dance With Me.”

You burst into another soft fit of giggles over the lovey-dovey name, causing him to turn his head, much like a curious owl.

He had the makings to be a charmer. And a cheeseball.

Both, for sure.

“Y/nnnn, don’t make fun of me! I need to practice for the wedding, don’t I?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you like a schoolboy with a crush.

A smile silently adorns your features.

With the click of a song, your ears are blessed with the melodic flow of R&B, thick with bluesy guitars and lyrical loveliness. A true slow jam, perfect for rocking on heels and leaning into broad shoulders.

You roll your eyes, throwing your arms around his neck for the 2nd time today.

“We’ve still got 8 months til we’re married, baby.” You remind him, your heart jumping at your own words. 

8 short months.

8 months until forever.

Forever with your favorite person.

And it doesn’t scare you. No, the flutters in your stomach are reassuring and brimming with excitement. 

You couldn’t wait.

So you rest your forehead against his, staring deeply into his contemplative orbs.

As you two sway to the beat, you can tell he’s thinking. Pondering that sentence. Cultivating a response. You can feel it in the way his thumbs stroke the sides of your hips in deliberation.

He’s searching your gaze and his own mind. Drawing a conclusion.

You just wait. Swaying to the beat, drinking in his almond, vanilla scent, patiently watching his thought process unfold before you.

“I just wish it were sooner.” He whispers, eyes locked on yours.

Oh.

Oh Bokuto.

You release your hold around his neck, slowly drawing your face away from his and moving your hands toward his features. The slow dancing pauses, his feet subconsciously planting themselves on the floor in curious anticipation of what’s to come.

Your knuckles stroke his cheekbones, causing him to flush slightly. Fingers brush against his jawline, your eyes now concentrated on his lips.

How dare he speak such beautiful things with that mouth. Always so smooth when you least expect it.

You lean in, giving him a soft peck, lingering on his lips for just for a moment. Enough to tease him. Because it’s so unfair of him to say things like that... 

When he knows full well that you would marry him right here, on the spot.

Under the broken chandelier in your dingy apartment’s living room, you would dedicate your whole life to him, vows and all, while twirling to a playlist called “Dance With Me.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

[zukoskataraa]

a day at the vet

hey guys! it’s been so long since i last made a fic omg hope you all like this! this may or may not have a continuation, depending on the feedback hehe. also, it turned out longer than i had planned. but nonetheless, enjoy!

ps: client refers to the owner, while patient refers to the pet

vet!zuko and client!katara

“I’ll see you guys in two weeks. And remember, no baths for Momo here for two days. You can go and pay at the desk.” Zuko says, smiling at Mai, his client. Zuko grabbed the clipboard from the table and gave Momo a quick boop on the nose, heading towards the door. The restrainer headed out first, leaving the two of them behind.

“Will do. Thank you, Doctor.” Mai replies, smiling. Zuko sensed that she had something else to say. “Um, I know this is kind of inappropriate, but would you like to go out for dinner soon? Y-You don’t have to say yes, Doctor. It’s just, you’re really sweet and kind. So, uh, I was just wondering.” Mai asks, avoiding Zuko’s gaze. 

“Mai, I’m sorry, but I make it a point to not go out with my clients. I appreciate the offer, though. Thank you.” Zuko smiles as he walks out of the room. He sighed as he walked towards the front desk, footsteps echoing in the dimly-lit hallway. He grabbed his pen from the front pocket of his lab coat, humming.

Zuko was 26 years old, and he was single. Which was something that almost every client tried to take advantage of when they knew that he wasn’t in a relationship. His clients asked him out on dates, and he would decline every single one of them. He maintained his professionalism, which was something he liked about himself. The next time he would see the clients that asked him out - be it during their pet’s next check-up or outside of work - neither he nor the client would bring up the awkward conversation. Zuko never got mad or annoyed at his clients’ questions, in fact he was flattered. 

“Hey, Suki.” He greeted the receptionist. He smiled at Aang who was talking to a client in the waiting room, and gave a small wave. Aang and the client waved back. “Slow day today, huh?”

“Yup, but it’s still 11, so who knows.” Suki said,  Zuko nodded, signing a form.

“That’s true. So, Momo in room 1 had his rabies vaccine and deworming today along with his check-up.” Zuko said. Suki smiled while typing the information Zuko told her into the computer.

 “Your next patient is Appa in room 5.” Suki says and Zuko smiles. Appa was one of Zuko’s favorite patients. But Appa’s owner on the other hand, was not his favorite client.

“Just a check-up for Appa today?” Zuko asked. Suki hummed and nodded. “Okay, thanks.” Zuko grabbed a clipboard with the clinic form, turned back and headed towards his next patient, almost bumping into Mai who was on her way out.

“Oh, sorry Doctor Zuko.” Mai said, still avoiding Zuko’s gaze.

“It’s alright. No harm done.” He said as he walked to room 5. He opened the door and was shocked at who he saw. Sitting on a chair was his highschool sweetheart. She had long and wavy chocolate brown hair, caramel brown skin and ocean blue eyes - without a doubt, it was her.

“Katara?” Zuko asked, closing the door. Katara smiled, despite being surprised, and Zuko was reminded of the old days when they were in high school. Zuko saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, hi Zuko. I mean, Doctor Zuko.” She said. The old lovers were too busy staring at each other, not noticing when Appa suddenly jumped up on Zuko, almost making him fall. Zuko chuckled as he petted the energetic dog. “Oh my god! Appa, down!” Katara stood up, grabbing the Golden Retriever’s leash and gently tugging on it. The dog gets off of Zuko, sitting down as he looks up at the doctor. “Sorry about that. I think he likes you.”

“No worries, I like him too. Plus, he’s a gentle giant. But it seems that he’s gotten heavier since he last came here.” Zuko says, smiling at Katara. “Where is Appa’s owner though? I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Kat. Katara. But I have to say, it is a nice surprise.” Zuko says, and Katara smiled at the nickname that rolled off Zuko’s tongue a numerous amount of times back in high school.

“I also wasn’t expecting to see you. But it is nice to see you.” She said truthfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Zuko is reminded of how he used to tuck Katara’s hair behind her ear, right before he would give her a kiss. “I’m just doing this as a favor. Jet, Appa’s owner, is a, uh, friend of mine.” She explained.

“Just a friend?” Zuko asked, a hint of jealousy in his voice, and Katara looked at him. Gentle, blue eyes stared into intense, brown ones. “Ah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask about your personal life.” He said, looking at the form in his hand to distract himself. “I’ll call a restrainer. One sec.” Zuko places the clipboard on a table and walks outside the door, closing it behind him as he sighed. He walked towards the front desk, leaning close to Suki.

“Hey, do you think Aang or Toph could examine Appa for me today?” Zuko asks, voice almost a whisper.

“Why? Is there something wrong? Aang left to buy some lunch and Toph is doing an emergency C-section right now with Ty.” Suki asks.

“Well, it’s just that his owner isn’t here. It’s the owner’s... friend that brought Appa.” Zuko explains.

“Well, that’s weird. I thought that the pretty girl was his owner’s girlfriend.” Suki said, and Zuko clenched his jaw, which didn’t go unnoticed by Suki. “But, you’re Appa’s doctor. And you already went inside the room, right? It’d be weird if you just suddenly disappeared.” Suki says and Zuko sighs.

“Yeah, you’re right. Could I get 2 restrainers for Appa? He’s a big boy.” Zuko says and Suki nods, gesturing to the two employees in the waiting area.

“Right away, Doctor.” She says, giving him a wink. He chuckles and walks back to Katara and Appa with the restrainers behind him.

“Hey, I’m back.” Zuko announces as he opens the door. Appa barks, tail rapidly wagging side to side. Zuko smiles as he pets the dog. “Hey there, buddy.” He steps to the side, grabbing the clipboard. The two restrainers come in, and Katara greets them with a ‘Good morning’ and a friendly smile. Zuko smiles, she was as kind as ever.

“Kat, I mean Katara,  you can give them the leash. They’ll hoist Appa up on the table.” Zuko says. 

“O-Oh, yes. Of course.” Katara says and she gives the leash to one of the restrainers. She heads over to Zuko, standing beside him. Her arm lightly brushes over his, and Zuko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word.

“Be careful guys.” Zuko says to the two employees as they gently put Appa on the examination table. Appa barks once he’s on the table, and Katara giggles, petting his head. “Alright, I’ll start the examination in a bit. But I’m gonna do some history taking first.” Zuko says as he grabs the clipboard.

“Okay, yeah. Seems easy.” Katara says, looking at Zuko. Zuko looks at her, giving her a small smile.

“I take it this is your first time at the vet, Katara? I mean, you were pretty scared of dogs back then.” Zuko says and Katara giggles.

“Yes, this is my first time at the vet, Doctor Zuko.” Katara says, emphasizing his title. “And Appa here is an exception. He’s a good boy and I’d do anything for him.” 

“You’ll need to be as honest as possible when you answer the questions, okay?” Zuko says, and Katara pokes his biceps, making him chuckle. Katara smiles, not expecting to feel that much muscle. 

“I’m not a kid, Doctor. I know how to answer questions when it comes to taking the patient’s history.” Katara says and Zuko smiles, nodding. Zuko’s questions range from the basic ones to the more complicated ones, and Katara answers each question precisely and correctly - or that’s what Zuko likes to think. Because clients lie all the time.

“Well, looks like Appa is as healthy as ever.” Zuko says, writing something on the form. Katara tries to sneak a peek, leaning close. Zuko chuckles, tucking the clipboard close to his chest. Katara looks up at him and smiles. Their faces were a few inches apart, and Zuko holds his breath. 

“Sorry. Just got curious.” She says, leaning away. Zuko smiles, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

“It’s alright. Now that I’m done with the history taking, it’s time for the physical exam.” Zuko says, and Appa barks. 

“It’ll be okay, Appa. Doctor Zuko is gonna take good care of you” She says in a soothing tone and Zuko smiles. Her voice was always nice to listen to. Zuko puts the clipboard on the table, and places his pen in the pocket of his lab coat. Zuko reaches over behind Katara, to grab some gloves. Katara freezes when she notices that Zuko is close to her - very close; Zuko’s lips almost touch Katara’s ear, his free hand lightly brushing against hers. He chuckles as he leans away and puts on his gloves. Katara lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and Zuko glances at her, smirking.

“I don’t mean to sound rude or unprofessional, but you two look like a couple.” One of the restrainers says, and his partner nudges him. “I-I mean, you two look good together.” He says and his partner shakes his head in embarrassment. Katara blushes and Zuko smiles.

“Well, we actually dated back in highschool.” Zuko says, starting the physical exam on Appa by examining his mouth and teeth.

“I-It was a long time ago.” Katara says, staring at the ground. She would be lying if she said that Zuko wasn’t a great boyfriend. Because he was. The best, in fact. “We, uh, we dated for 3 years.” Katara says and Zuko nods, checking Appa’s ears.

“We were together from sophomore year to senior year.” Zuko continues, grabbing his stethoscope. “Hold him steady.” He tells the restrainers, placing the diaphragm of the stethoscope on Appa’s chest. There’s a short silence in the room as Zuko counts Appa’s respiratory rate. Zuko nods and removes his stethoscope, placing it around his neck. He grabs his pen, writing down the information on the form.

“Were you guys the perfect couple?” The other restrainer asks, her interest piqued. Zuko smiles, looking at Katara - who was now blushing. “A-And why did you guys break up?”

“Well, there’s no perfect couple.” Katara says, looking up at Zuko. Familiar blue eyes meet brown ones, a twinkle in both their eyes.

“We fought, sure.” Zuko says, looking away as he continued examining Appa. Katara looks at the restrainers, both of them intently looking at Zuko. “But who doesn’t fight, right? So yeah, we fought. And we made up. That’s life. That’s how a relationship goes. And well, we broke up because we both wanted different things in life. But we ended things on good terms. We just, uh, never made it a point to contact each other after that.” Zuko says.

“You’re a love guru now, Doctor Zuko?” Katara asks, teasing. The restrainers laugh while Zuko shakes his head, chuckling.

“I have a degree in veterinary medicine, Katara. I don’t know anything about love, only animals.” Zuko says, grabbing a thermometer from the drawer. “Could you make him stand up.” Zuko says to the restrainers. Zuko lubricates the thermometer, as one restrainer carefully holds Appa’s head and upper half of his body, the other the lower half of his body. “Okay, buddy. This might be a little cold.” He says, rubbing Appa’s neck to distract him. “Hold him still, okay? He hates when I take his temperature.” Zuko says as he inserts the thermometer into Appa. Appa moves and tries to get out of the restrainers’ grips. 

“I-Is he usually like that?” Katara asks, arms folded across her chest. Zuko nods.

“Yeah, he can get a bit aggressive during this part. Other dogs may yelp, sure. But Appa is different.” Zuko explains, holding the thermometer. “But then again, I wouldn’t want a thermometer up my butt either.” He jokes and Katara laughs. The thermometer beeps a few seconds later, and Zuko takes it out, disinfecting it and wiping it as he records Appa’s temperature.

“Well, everything seems great. Appa is-” Zuko talks, but is cut off by the door opening to reveal Appa’s owner, Jet. Appa gets excited, barking and wagging his tail. The restrainers hold him carefully, so he doesn’t fall off the table.

“Ah, hello Doctor. Hello, my love.” Jet greets as he walks in the room, giving Katara a peck on the cheek. 

“Jet! I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Katara says, putting on a fake smile. Zuko grits his teeth when Jet wraps his arm around Katara.

“Well, my meeting ended early. And I thought that we could have lunch at the park after this.” Jet says and Katara looks at Zuko, silently asking for help. He nods, coughing.

“As I was saying,” Zuko says, and Katara smiles. “Appa is healthy. However, he needs to go on a diet. How many times do you feed him in one day?”

“Three times.” The couple answers in unison and Zuko nods.

“Make it two times a day. Breakfast and dinner. He can have treats, but don’t overdo it.” Zuko says, writing something into the form.

“Two times a day? That’s rough, buddy.” Katara says, petting Appa. Zuko smiles.

“Other than him having to go on a diet, he seems healthy. His next deworming will be… three weeks from now.” Zuko says, checking Appa’s old form. Jet sighs, clearly bored. This is why Zuko hated Jet. “You guys can put him down now.” Zuko tells the restrainers, and they do. Appa walks to Jet, and he gives the dog a quick scratch. Zuko nods to the restrainers, and they take that as their cue to leave.

“I-Is that it, Doctor?” Katara asks, and Zuko nods.

“Yes. You may also give him vitamins, which are available at the front desk.” Zuko says. 

“Babe, why don’t you take Appa and pay at the front?” Katara tells Jet and he nods.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll wait for you. Thanks, Doc.” Jet says as he grabs Appa’s leash and walks out the door. There’s an awkward silence between the old lovers.

“So… just a friend, huh?” Zuko says, raising an eyebrow and Katara shrugs.

“No, not a friend. We’re dating.” Katara says, sitting down. Zuko looks at her, leaning on a wall.

“And are you happy?” Zuko asks, concern in his voice.

“Y-Yes, I am. Just… Oh my god, this is gonna be so embarrassing.” Katara says, avoiding Zuko’s gaze.

“What? You can tell me, Kat.” Zuko says.

“I was happier when I was with you. All the guys I’ve dated ever since we broke up… None of them compare to you.” Katara says, scoffing. “See? Embarrassing.” Zuko crouches down in front of Katara, looking at her. Her eyes resembled the ocean, that’s what Zuko always thought of. Zuko places his hands on her thighs, giving them a small squeeze.

“It’s not embarrassing. Thank you, for telling me.” Zuko’s voice was calm and gentle. “Who would have thought that we’d reunite here at work?” He jokes and Katara giggles.

“I miss you, Zuko.” Katara confesses, her voice almost a whisper. Zuko sighs, standing up. “I’m so pathetic. One look at you and suddenly I forget that I have a boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry, every client seems to forget they have a boyfriend when they see me.” Zuko says, lightening the mood.

“Your girlfriend must get jealous, huh?” Katara asks and Zuko shakes his head.

“I’m single, Kat.” Zuko admits and Katara widens her eyes.

“No way, you’re joking! You’re too hot to be single!” Katara says and Zuko chuckles. “Okay, forget the last part. But seriously, are you still single?”

“Yes, I really am still single.” There’s a moment of silence, neither of them knowing what to say next.

“I should get going.” Katara says, standing up. Zuko nods. She looks up at him, smiling. “We should grab a coffee sometime. You know, catch up. How does that sound?”

“I normally don’t go out with clients. But technically, you aren’t my client, your boyfriend is. So, that sounds wonderful, Katara. I’m free on Friday.” Zuko smiles. Katara nods and grabs a pen and paper from her bag, quickly writing her number. She slips the paper into the pocket of Zuko’s lab coat, earning a chuckle from the doctor. “Before you go, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes, Doctor?” Katara asks. Zuko takes a deep breath.

“You were my first love. And you always will be. And you’re also the one that got away. I know you have a boyfriend, but if there’s even the slightest chance that we can start over, I would really like that. Because not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, Katara.” Zuko says, his voice sincere. Katara smiles, putting her hand on his cheek.

“Coffee first?” She asks and Zuko chuckles.

“Yes, coffee first.” Zuko says, smiling. Katara nods as she walks towards the door. “Wait, Katara.” Zuko says, his back facing the door.

“Yeah?” She asks, looking back.

“I miss you too.” Zuko says. Katara smiles as she opens the door and walks out. Friday couldn’t come faster.

-

masterlist

ao3: zukoskataraa 

[peachiikawa]

Fly | Route Selected: S. Daichi

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me. finally, here is the long awaited daichi route. hope you all enjoy!

genre: mafia au

warnings: blood, reader getting hurt, guns, violence

word count: 2.3k

Fly Masterlist

“I choose you”

Your eyes locked with daichi

And daichi stared into yours trying to figure you out

“Are you sure?”

You nodded your head and held your ground

“Im sure”

He felt his eyes soften for a moment at the determination in your eyes before hardening again

“Fine. Everyone else, go home. Youre with me then. Lets go”

Daichi called for a car and drove you home

The silence between the two of you was only filled with the soft sound of a piano playing on the radio

The ride was finally over after about twenty minutes

“I’ll come get you tomorrow morning. Youll be working as an intern now so dress accordingly”

With that he left and you felt like you could breathe again

Just what had you gotten yourself into?

As he said he was at your house in the morning in a car that looked just a tad too expensive

You gulped before taking your first step towards him

“Good morning, Daichi”

He just nodded at you as you got into the car

The drive was once again silent

You looked over at the man behind the wheel and noticed how...formal he looked

Suit, straight back, both hands on the wheel

You felt yourself naturally adjusting yourself to mirror his mannerisms

He stole some glances at you without you noticing and felt his eyes soften upon seeing how nervous you looked

As soon as you stepped into the building you could feel the professional atmosphere

The endless windows and white walls gave off a chilling feeling

You only came back to reality when Daichi gently nudged your back

“I dont have all day. Hurry up and move”

The harshness of his words were the opposite of his touch but they still hurt nonetheless

You nodded your head and kept walking, trying to keep up with his quick stride

You followed him into an office as he took a seat behind the wooden desk

“This will be brief so don’t feel the need to sit”

Your eyes followed his every move as he organized his desk that was already pretty organized with stacks of papers

Daichi went on about your duties here but you honestly werent listening

You were a bit overwhelmed from the unfamiliar building you were in that you forgot about the man in front of you

Up until your eyes landed on the nameplate that sat on his desk

Sawamura Daichi, CEO

Without even knowing it, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion

Just who did you get yourself involved with?

Daichi finally noticed that his conversation with you wasnt going anywhere

“Hey. Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of it and shook your head

“Im listening!”

He just sighed and repeated everything he just said again

“Whatever. Just listen because this will be the last time i say this. Youll be working here at Sawamura Inc from now on as an intern. Your fellow interns are Hinata and Kageyama so feel free to ask them questions if you have any. You can leave now. I’ll come get you at the end of the day”

You nodded your head and started your day

Kageyama helped you the most in learning the ropes, you didnt see much of hinata. it was almost as if he was avoiding you

“Ok...so these files go here?”

He nodded his head

“Yeah i think you got it down now. If you need me ill be organizing some things for suga”

The rest of the day went on slowly until finally seven oclock hit

You could hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching you

“Lets go”

Daichi wasted no time in leaving

You quickly put down the rest of the papers you needed to organize and followed him out

The next couple weeks were like clockwork

Almost exactly the same as the day before

And no matter how hard you tried to get to know the man who took you to and from work he wouldnt budge

The only thing you ever got out of him were short replies and head nods

Did he really not like you that much?

But something you noticed every morning and every evening was the light sound of a piano playing from the radio

“Do you like the piano daichi?”

You werent even sure youd get an answer out of him

But he must if he listened to it everyday

You saw his hands lightly grip the steering wheel tighter before loosening, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips

Your eyes widened when you saw it

In your two weeks together...youd never seen him give a look like this

Like he...enjoyed life

Like he was happy

“Yeah...its okay”

But just as fast as it appeared on his face, it quickly disappeared

Who knew that the stoic man next to you could make expressions like that

Almost made your heart race

“Do you play?”

Silence fell upon the both of you before you heard him let out a sigh

“No”

And now we’re back to stage one when you finally though you were getting more than one word answers

What could you do to make him see you?

This question played in your head as you filed away some papers for Asahi with Hinata

It was the first time youd done something with him but from what youve seen kageyama just calls him an idiot all the time and hits him

Also from what youve heard hinatas been with the sawamuras for a while so maybe he has some insight

“Hey hinata, can i ask you a question?”

He kept quiet so you took that as permission

“Do you know why daichi likes listening to the piano so much?”

That caused him to stop

“If he hasnt told you then dont ask me”

Youd be lying if you said that didnt make you more intrigued so naturally you did some digging

And eventually you stumbled upon an article from no more than five years ago

It told the tale of a young piano prodigy that had chosen to study music at the university of music and performing arts in vienna

And that piano prodigy was the now the distant leader of the Karasuno Mafia

You wonder what happened to him, what the story was behind his change in career path

The next day you decided that if you wanted to learn more about him then asking the questions would help

“Good afternoon daichi!”

You smiled at him as you delivered some paperwork to him

“Morning…”

You set the small stack down on his desk in front of him

“These are the papers for the closing on the Inarizaki deal”

He picked them up and quickly skimmed it

“Okay, thank you. You may go now”

When you didnt move he looked back up

“Do you have something else for me?”

He saw the way you fidgeted with the tips of your fingers and his eyes softened for just a moment

“Would you like to have lunch with me?”

He knew that he should say no

That he shouldnt let you in

“Sure”

How harmful could one lunch possibly be

Little did daichi know he was about to be interrogated

“--no i dont know who my favorite superhero is”

This was probably the tenth question youve asked and he wished you would stop

But he didnt know how to tell you no

Not when you were asking genuine questions

He thought it was kind of nice to be talking to someone normal again

Not someone who was involved with the mafia

But someone who was just...ordinary

“Ok ok..one last question”

He smiled softly

You felt your breath hitch after him showing you that gentle smile

“Go ahead”

The way you talked to him with no filter was refreshing

So he wasnt expecting the next question really at all

“I came across an article the other day about this boy who loved playing the piano,”

Daichis heart almost stopped

“Why did you stop playing daichi?”

‘Because my father made me’

He clenched his fist, crumpling the napkin inside of it

“I just got bored of it”

His reply came out through gritted teeth and you knew he was lying

You gently laid your hand on top of his until you felt it relaxing under you

“Well, no matter the reason, I hope that someday ill be lucky enough to hear you play”

His heart melted

The thought of playing again is something hes always wanted

But his father wouldnt let him

And left a permanent reminder on him about it

“That probably wont ever happen so dont get your hopes up. Let’s get back to the office, lunch is over”

And just like that he was back to being cold towards you just when you thought you were making progress

A couple weeks go by and it seems like daichis pushed you out of his life all over again

So much so that suga was the one giving you assignments from daichi where daichi used to just tell you himself

“Hey, hinata, kageyama and y/n! Daichi wants you guys to go make some copies from the store around the corner. Printer is jammed here and we need to get those documents ASAP”

You all nodded your heads and headed out

You were really too caught up in your own thoughts to be thinking about your surroundings

Had you really crossed a line that day?

You just wanted to figure out the real daichi

Because to you, the real daichi had his walls up 24/7 but behind those walls was a gentle smile and just a guy who wanted nothing more than to just live a normal life

So you didnt notice when hinata and kageyama stopped causing you to run into their backs

“Why did you guys-”

Hinata held a protective arm out in front of you

“What are you doing here, mad dog?”

The boy you assumed was ‘mad dog’ pushed himself off of wall he was leaning against

“Boss wanted me to fetch something”

His eyes locked onto your form

“And im here to collect”

This sent chills down your back

What was he going to do for you?

Who was his boss?

Your mind was running a mile a minute

“y/n you need to run”

Hinata’s voice brought you back to reality

“What?”

Hinata’s eyes never left the man in front of him

“Kageyama and i will take care of him. You need to get back to the office. Now!”

You sprinted as soon as hinata yelled for you to leave

‘Theyll be alright, right? They handle stuff like this all the time’

But you came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a gun going off

‘Fuck my life’

You turned back around help in any way you could

Only to come upon an unconscious kageyama and bleeding hinata

“You fucking idiot! Whyd you come back?!”

Meanwhile mad dog approached you and placed his hand under your chin

“You just made my job a whole lot easier”

Before you could even scream a piece of cloth was placed over your mouth and your vision went black

“Give your boss a message for me, carrot top. Tell him that if he wants his intern back he has to come get them himself”

Hinata gritted his teeth before passing out himself

Suga found them not too long after that

And after hinata told daichi what had happened...he was livid

He was supposed to protect you

To make sure that you stayed safe

And he was too weak to do it

Too afraid of what his father would have done if he found out that he was fond of a random person they picked up from the streets that had no ties to them

Afraid of what his father would have done to you

He clenched his jaw and let out a grunt as he punched the wall next to him

But fuck that

He knew that in this moment he needed to get you back right now

The thought of you being injured due to his own incompetence scared him more than what his father might ever do to him

So he was off

“When will they wake up?”

“Theyve been out forever”

“Dude its only been like three hours of course theyre still out”

The voices around you became clear as you regained consciousness

“Oh~ looks like theyre finally awake”

“Yeah probably because you wouldnt shut up”

Standing in front of you was a group of men you had only seen in brief pictures from the reports you made for daichi

‘Seijoh’

From what you remember their boss is a major flirt and his right hand man keeps him humble

Mad dog was sitting off in the corner next to a brown haired man who just kept staring at you…’creepy’

You flinched as the one you recognized as their boss reached a hand out towards you

“Aww dont be scared! I promise i wont hurt you”

He bent down to your level with a hand on your shoulder and leaned in to the point that his breath tickled your ear

“Though im not too sure that some of the others here wont. So be good for me, okay y/n?”

You were scared out of your mind

But you were not going to let this guy get into your head

So you did what any reasonable person would do

You pulled your head back and headbutted him in the forehead

He stumbled back a bit

“Stay the fuck away from me”

Oikawa held his head and gave you a nasty glare

“Iwa take care of them”

Everyone filed out till it was just you and the spiky hair man in front of you

“Nothing against you, just doing what the boss said. Plus you could have just laid low but you had to provoke him”

Daichi wasted no time in getting to seijohs building

And as soon as oikawa heard he was in the building he sent for him

“Welcome daichi! What an unexpected surprise!”

Daichi always hated the sound of oikawas jovial voice

How fake it sounded

“Just give me y/n back”

Oikawa just shook his head 

“Never were a fan of small talk were you daichi? Okay, since youre just dying to see them ill bring them in now”

Daichi turned around and reeled at what he saw

Bruised and battered as you were set down onto the ground

“You fucking bastard”

Daichi clenched his jaw

He was at a loss of words for the sight in front of him

But he knew he had to get you out of here

So he scooped you up into his arms and headed for the door

But before leaving he stopped and spoke into his earpiece

“Get them”

And with that he left as a war ensued between the two gangs

Beep beep

The sound of your heart monitor brought you back to the land of the living

And next to you was a passed out daichi

You slowly felt around your bed before hitting the call button for your nurse

And as soon as you did daichi jumped up from his seat at the sound of footsteps approaching

You reached out and put your hand on his to get his attention and smiled at him

He sat back down and let the nurses tend to you, his gaze never leaving your body

“You should be able to leave within the next day or two. Rest up mx. l/n”

The nurse then left your room and left the two of you alone

You locked eyes with him before looking down at his hand and seeing how discolored it was

He noticed your eyes widen and tried to hide his hand once he realized what you were looking at

“Daichi! You need to take better care of yourself!”

You sat up from your bed and called a nurse to get a basic first aid kit

“Im fine y/n. You need to rest”

“Like hell youre fine! Daichi your hand is hurt. Please just let me fix it for you”

But before you could apply the bandages you hand your hand in his

“It cant be fixed y/n. This hand doesnt feel anything”

You looked up at him with confused eyes

“Its the reason i dont play anymore. My father crushed it a few years back so i wouldnt even think about playing. Said it was time i stopped playing with useless things”

The grip on your hand tightened a bit before slowly loosening

But you just gently squeezed it

“Well, even if your hand is ‘useless’ id still feel better if youd let me wrap it. Your hand is still a part of you and it can still bring so much joy into your life as well as those around you. You just have to have the courage to seize what you want.”

‘The courage to seize what I want’

Your words played out in his head over and over again

He made a promise to himself that day

That one day, you two would be happily together

No matter how hard this path may be

He was going to seize his happiness

Tag List:

@the-ironic-me​ @multisun​ @my-mass-hysteria​ @sugawsites @youbloodylegendyoudidit @sinthxy​ @celamoon​ @tinymouth @fait-de-fleurs​ @tsukifanbase​ @69owo​ @laglyssage​ @hearteyeskags​ @ntngann​ @shnnn​ @fukuro-dani-ace​

[lupin72]

What could have been

Anon asked for a fic where ‘Lucy figured out that she was about to be drugged and arrests Caleb and comes to work traumatised that she would have been kidnapped or something and Tim noticed that’. I changed the details a bit but I hope you like it!

Lucy sat in her favorite bar, with an attractive man in front of her, conversation flowing well as they waited to be served. And yet she couldn’t relax. It had been a while since she had found herself on a date. Lucy told herself that was why she had a feeling of unease when she regarded the man before her. Caleb was nice, friendly and he seemed to like her. A lot, if him showing up at the precinct was anything to go by. She had no reason for fear or tension, no reason to doubt his intentions at all. And yet she couldn’t get the voice in the back of her mind to shut up.

Even before she was an officer, Lucy had always been careful on nights out. Her parents had experience with enough patients to feel that it was important to drill into Lucy that she should never leave a drink unattended, never drink anything unless she had seen the bar staff pour it and to always let someone know where she was going. They were rules she had followed throughout her life. She didn’t know how many times such choices could have saved her life.

But this was different, Lucy reminded herself. She was on a date. They were supposed to be alone. But she hadn’t told Jackson where she was going.

The thought struck a pang of panic inside her and Lucy reached for her phone. As she did so, she heard Caleb order his drink and ask her what she wanted. Lucy looked up and tried to mask her uncertainty with a smile and ordered a glass of the house red. She wasn’t fussy after a day like she had had.

That was what it was, she told herself. Leftover unease from being around a serial killer all day. There was nothing wrong with Caleb. Lucy noticed the man in question was frowning at her and realized how silly she must have looked urgently trying to dig her phone out of her pocket.

“I’m not doing that bad am I?” Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was. “Trying to call for help already?”

Lucy laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt, “Not at all. I just realised I never told my flat mate where I was going.”

“Oh,” Caleb paused, “it’s alright, I’m a gentleman, I’ll have you home by ten, promise.”

Lucy frowned. Her hands froze. Was that a red flag?

She shook herself, cursing her overactive mind and placed her hands back on the bar. She was a full grown woman, she didn’t need anyone’s permission and, despite the fact Caleb was obviously joking, she didn’t like the insinuation that she was acting like a child who was out after curfew.

Thankfully, their drinks arrived and prevented any award silence.

But then the world seemed to slow down. Caleb reached out to pay for their drinks and then smoothly grabbed both their glasses, pushing Lucy’s towards her and dragging his towards himself. It had looked causal, and it was all over in a second, but the movement of his hand had caught Lucy’s eye. There had been no need for him to touch her glass, no need for him to slide it toward her when it was already in comfortable reaching distance. And, had she imagined it, or had he spent a bit too long searching for his wallet? Long enough perhaps to lift something else along with it?

The voice, the feeling of unease, was suddenly too much and Lucy felt herself standing.

Caleb looked shocked.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy apologized, grabbing her jacket and moving away. “I’m not feeling too great tonight. I’ve had a bit of a terrible shift and I should have cancelled sooner. This wasn’t fair on you. You seem like a really nice guy, but I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry-”

She turned to leave when she felt Caleb grab her arm. Tight.

“Wait.” His smile no longer reached his eyes and Lucy detected a hint of anger in his gaze. “Can’t we just have this one drink? I know I’m not the most attractive guy and I think I might have come across a bit strong when I showed up at your work, but I do really like you Lucy.”

Lucy paused, regarding his demeanor. There was something about the desperation in his tone that she didn’t like. Her gaze flicked back to their glasses on the bar behind them.

The date was over anyway. There was nothing more to lose. Lucy squared her shoulders and said, “If I asked you to down my drink would you do it?”

Caleb looked taken aback. “What?”

“If I asked you to drink it, would you do it?”

The anger on his face grew to the point he looked enraged.

“I thought so.” Lucy broke free of his grip and turned for the door.

Thankfully, a group of girls stumbled into the bar just as Lucy reached the entrance. One stopped and pulled the door back open for her, smiling as Lucy passed through. With a sigh of relief Lucy noticed that their uber driver was still waiting by the door and, upon the driver’s request, jumped in their car.

 Lucy never got much sleep. She had tossed and turned for hours thinking about what could have happened. She knew in her heart that Caleb had been attempting to spike her. Should she have told the barman? Hell, should she have arrested him? No, she once again reminded herself. Her evidence was based on a hunch, on suspicion and nothing more. Still, pushing herself from the bed, she decided she would call her mother later to thank her for her annoying persistence in reminding her to be safe growing up. For now, she had to get to work.

Lucy bumped into Tim just as she was entering the bullpen. “Told you to unwind last night Chen, not stay up the whole night, you look like you haven’t slept at all.”

It was disguised as a reprimand, but Lucy could tell that it came from a place of concern. “Had a rough night,” she replied. “I’ll tell you about it in the shop if you promise not to boast.”

Lucy knew that promise wouldn’t be kept. Tim had sensed something was wrong with Caleb. He had made all those jibes about the photos and tried to steal Caleb’s number from Lucy’s hand. But even if she did have to listen to him boast, part of her also wanted some reassurance that she had done the right thing. Caleb, after all, might have been innocent. It could all have been in her head.

They were in the shop for two minutes before Tim spoke, “So, Boot what did you want to tell me? I’m ready to gloat.”

Lucy explained what had happened on the date, her words tumbling into each other at such a speed that she wasn’t sure Tim would know what she was saying at all. Thankfully, he seemed to follow well enough and he didn’t interrupt.

“I knew there was something wrong with that guy,” Tim said when she was finished. Lucy rolled her eyes at that predictably being his first take away.

“Are you alright?”

The look of concern on his face took Lucy by surprise.

“Yes sir,” she answered.

“You did the right thing. Even if he was innocent it’s better to be safe than sorry. And with this new serial killer on the lose too, you can never be too sure.”

Lucy hadn’t thought about it that way. What were the odds that the new killer would target her? She knew that the number of men that turned to date rape drugs was scarcely high enough in the city of LA that it was extremely unlikely to be related at all.

Still, the thought was enough to send her head spinning.

“Don’t go there Chen,” Tim interrupted her spiral, bringing her back to the present. “You were switched on enough to notice what he was playing at. Not many would have. It shows you have good instincts.”

Just as Lucy was about to point out that Tim had just given her a compliment, he froze.

“Fire!”

Lucy jumped, her hand automatically going to her weapon, whilst she scanned the horizon.

“That house is on fire, what do we do Officer Chen?”

Lucy quickly looked to the house Tim had gestured to and found no sign of smoke or flames. She realized immediately what he was doing, and her heart swelled in response, even if it had just stopped beating seconds before.

Lucy rattled off the protocol as Tim drove on, her nightmare of a night long forgotten.

 An hour later a call came in from Grey directly. A rare occurrence so that they both knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. Tim drove them to the address in a tense silence.

They joined a swarm of vehicles pulling up outside an abandoned farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. In sync, they climbed out of the car and turned to where Grey stood at the porch, towering over the crowd of officers.

“Rosalind’s partner has struck again,” Grey announced. “A video was sent to the precinct half an hour ago of a woman in a barrel, we presume she is underground. Detectives were able to track the signal here. From the footage we believe this to be a recovery. I want you all to spread out, we’ve got dogs and metal detectors on hand. Let’s bring this girl home to her family and with any luck we will find something to put the bastard who did this behind bars.”

With sharp orders from the detectives, they broke out into their routine search formation: a line forming a grid that seemed far too small to cover the vast desert plane surrounding them. Lucy’s stomach churned as she walked in line next to Tim, a sniffer dog team to her other side. What sort of end the woman must have met? Alone, underground, in a barrel in this heat? It didn’t bare thinking about.

After almost an hour of nothing, the dog to Lucy’s right gave a loud bark and began clawing at the ground. The handler gave a shout and within minutes a flurry of officers began to dig. Dirt flew carelessly around them as they shoveled it clear. The only sound panting and the scraping of the sand. And then they hit metal.

The barrel exposed; they removed the lid. The sight that met them made more than one officer gasp, including Lucy.

They had found her.

Tim pulled the young woman up and laid her body out.

Grey was right. She was already gone.

She looked young, a few years younger than Lucy. Her long dark hair covered half of her face and Tim carefully pulled it back to lay her more peacefully on the sand.

Lucy jumped. The sight of the young woman’s face sent her stumbling backwards. Her hand flew to her mouth to try to stop the feeling of nausea that had overtaken her.

Tim, seemingly the only officer to notice, spun to face Lucy and immediately rose to his feet when he saw the look on her face.

“Chen?” He said, in the same soft tone he had used with her in the shop earlier, a tone she had heard him use so rarely. Lucy felt him reach out and clasp her elbow when she still didn’t respond.

“She was there,” Lucy stammered, forcing the words out between her loud gasping breaths, “She was there, at the bar…last night.” Lucy recognized the victim as the young woman who had held the door open for her.

It was clear the second Tim realized what she was saying. His other hand rose to catch her by the shoulder. “Chen are you telling me that-?”

“It’s Caleb. It has to be.”

They were gathering an audience from their fellow officers, both those who had helped to dig and those that were only now just reaching the scene. Lucy barely noticed them. All she could see was Tim. The fear in his eyes, his strong hands the only reason she hadn’t fallen to the floor.

Lucy choked, unable to hold back her tears any longer, they began to slip down her cheek. The terrible realization hitting them both.

“It should have been me.”

 Hope you enjoyed reading this! A reminder that I am still open for prompts!

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Date Night - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Damian Wayne,  Pairing: timkon Summary: It was date night. The first in over a year. At least, it was supposed to be. A/N: For patreon supporter and overall hella person, @mayleebaby28!! Thank you for all your support and kindness over all the years. You’re positively amazing! Happy birthday! Amelia was adopted as a baby, probably through some case they were working. Jon was covering Tim and Conner’s patrols for them. Damian stayed the night, just because, and either slept on the couch or in a guest room. One of them definitely snored, and Damian definitely sent a picture of them passed out in the tent to at least Jon, and probably Dick and Cass too. Amelia was, of course, not sick in the slightest, haha.

~~

Conner whistled while he dried off after his shower. It was nothing fancy – an early dinner, a drive-in movie, and maybe a bar or nightclub for a drink or two afterwards if they were feeling really wild.

But hey, a date was a date, and this was the first one they’d had in over a year.

So to say he was excited was a bit of an understatement. Because when was the last time it was just them? Titans, friends, family – it seemed like they were always surrounded. Always with someone. Never the two of them. Never husband and husband.

Never just Conner and Tim.

Giddiness led his movements as he brushed his teeth and combed through his closet. Tim had reminded him all day that it was casual, that he could wear sweatpants and a hoodie if he really wanted to. But Conner was feeling kind of mischievous, feeling the need to be downright sexy. Conner wanted to see the gleam in Tim’s eye when he was absolutely turned on, when he wanted to do nothing but rip Conner’s clothes off.

So he bypassed the sweatpants, digging for the jeans Tim claimed were his favorite.

He was just pulling a button-up shirt around his shoulders when he heard a whine in another part of the house. The other bedroom, their daughter’s bedroom.

He was already on his way over there when he heard Tim respond to her, murmuring softly. She – Amelia – whined again, adding an extra haughty pout this time too.

Conner smiled.

But when he ducked his head into the room, he felt his smile falter, just a little. Amelia was cocooned in Tim’s arms, leaning her cheek pathetically against his collarbone. Tim was gently rocking her back and forth, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

That was the face of a man clearly not thinking about getting ready for a date.

“What’s wrong?” Conner asked anyway, stepping into the room. Amelia glanced up at him and sniffed, lifting her hand to curl her fingers up and down in a wave.

Tim turned towards him a little bit. “She’s warm.”

Conner smirked. “She’s always run warm.” He ran his hand down her hair. “But also, you always run cold, so you kind of think everything is warm.”

“This is different.” Tim countered. “I don’t think she feels good.”

Conner glanced down. “Don’t feel good, princess?”

Amelia pursed her lips. Shook her head. And Conner had to hold in his laugh.

Because Amelia had Tim wrapped around her finger, and even at four years old, she absolutely knew that. She knew she had Conner too, of course, but Tim was absolute putty in her hands, every time.

And the one thing she knew even more surely than that was that she hated – hated – being away from her dads, for even a moment.

“We should stay.” Tim whispered immediately. Amelia squeezed his shirt in her fist.

“I think she’s alright.” Conner pressed the back of his hand to Amelia’s forehead. “She doesn’t feel warm to me.”

She sniffed loudly.

“I don’t know…” Tim sighed, rocking her again.

“Damian’s babysitting tonight, and, as he likes to remind us, he’s practically a doctor himself anyway. So if anything really was wrong, it’d be better she’s under his care anyway, and then we’d just be in the way.” Conner tried. He stroked Amelia’s hair again. “Don’t you want to see Uncle Damian?”

Amelia twisted her lips. As much as she loved her dads, she adored her aunts and uncles even more. Damian especially, because he always brought one of his pets with him.

“If anything, it’s just a little cold.” Conner continued. “What do you always say when you get a cold? You just have to sleep it off.”

Tim scowled. “I think there’s a difference between me and Amelia.”

“I mean, there’s not, healthwise, but thanks for proving my point that you’re a workaholic and purposefully don’t take care of yourself anyway.” He half sang. Tim rolled his eyes as Conner laughed. “…Do you really want to stay?”

Tim sighed, sheepishly shrugged his free shoulder. “I mean…”

As if on cue, there was a knock on the front door. Conner let out a longsuffering sigh, ruffled Amelia’s hair, and left the room to answer it.

It, of course, was Damian.

“You may have come all this way for nothing.” Conner drawled, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t buttoned his shirt yet. He winced as a silent apology, quickly wrapping the two sides around his chest.

“Oh?” Damian hummed, stepping into the house anyway, good old Titus right behind him. “Is Amelia playing him like a fiddle again?”

“Unfortunately.” Conner nodded. “She’s convincing him she’s sick.”

Damian politely took off his shoes. Titus, less politely, gave a whole body shake. “Is she?”

“Not that I can tell. She doesn’t feel any warmer than normal, and her sniffing I’m pretty sure is from crying.” Conner listed. “Mind taking a look while you’re here anyway?”

Damian nodded and smiled, glancing over as Tim appeared from the hallway.

“Hey.” Tim said, almost shyly. Damian nodded as Titus trotted over, licking at Amelia’s bare toes.

“Hand her over.” Damian ordered, holding his hands out. Amelia, finally, unlatched from Tim’s shirt to reach out herself. Damian cooed as he took her, and he almost instantly disappeared further into the house, Titus happily trotting along with him.

As they heard Damian start speaking, Tim looked back at Conner with an apologetic grimace.

“Do you want to stay?” Conner asked again with a smile. Tim leaned against his chest and sighed.

“Just in case.” Tim admitted. “Just this once.”

Conner laughed, because Tim always said that.

Tim closed his eyes, hid his face against Conner’s chest as he snaked his arms under his unbuttoned shirt. “…She got me again, didn’t she?”

“Maybe.” Conner offered, holding Tim back. “But that just means you love her.”

“It means I spoil her.”

“It means you’re a good dad. A great dad.” He put his finger under Tim’s chin and lifted it. “And that just makes me love you more.”

Tim smiled sadly, tiredly. “I really was looking forward to a night out.”

“I know.” Conner promised.

“You’re wearing my favorite pants and everything.” Tim almost whined.

“I am.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Tim swore. “I promise.”

“You know you don’t have to.” Conner smiled, kissed Tim’s forehead. “Any time I get to spend with you, even with other people, is good enough for me.”

Tim closed his eyes, and leaned deeper into his space. They stood there for a moment, listening to the sounds coming from the other room. Voices, mostly, but then the sound of a few closets being opened, and…moving furniture?

But before they could ask, Amelia reappeared in the mouth of the living room, hand clutched to Titus’s collar.

“Daddies.” She hummed, moving forward. Titus, awkwardly crouching, walked kindly next to her. “I’m sorry I ruined your day.”

She meant date, they knew that, but that didn’t stop them from smiling anyway.

“You didn’t ruin anything, princess, it’s okay.” Conner promised.

“But!” She cried. “Uncle Dami and I made you sumthin.” She spun away, dragging Titus with her. “Come on!”

She ran down the hall, but Conner and Tim both saw her run her snotty nose along her sleeve anyway. They glanced at each other, and did as they were told.

And they were both surprised into silence when they entered the living room. Because suddenly, there was a blanket fort set up in the middle of the floor that had not been there ten minutes ago. Damian was walking around it, gently hanging Christmas lights from the garage along its triangular roof.

“For your day.” Amelia promised. “You guys stay in the tent, and Uncle Dami and I will stay on the couch and not bother you.” She nodded confidently. “It’ll be like we ain’t even here.”

Conner raised an eyebrow, glancing at Damian. “Her idea.” He admitted with a smirk.

“You…okay with that?” Conner asked. “I mean…you don’t have to stay, since we aren’t going out anymore.”

“It’s fine.” Damian waved off. “Though I do ask if you will be doing anything…dirty, to please not do it in the tent, or at least give me enough time to take Amelia and leave the area.”

Both their faces lit up in embarrassment.

“Also, I am not Pennyworth.” Damian reminded. “While I will expertly design and build you a tent in your own home, I am not preparing your food. Get your own.”

Conner laughed, even as he leaned down and picked Amelia up, throwing her gently in the air. “You’re amazing, sweetheart.”

“I won’t bother you.” She said again, bowing her head in guilt. “Even when I want something. I’ll get Uncle Dami to get it.”

“It’s fine. You can bother us.” Tim said. “Thank you for being so thoughtful though.”

She nodded and pointed towards the TV that the tent faced. “I picked out a movie for you.”

“And I left alternate options by the player.” Damian called, implying without saying so that Amelia probably picked one of her own movies, about cartoon pigs or clue-finding dogs.

“Thank you, baby.” Tim kissed her cheek, but frowned a little. He caught Conner’s eye and shrugged. “…I still think she’s warm.”

Conner laughed and rolled his eyes, even as Amelia pointed towards the tent and demanded they go to it.

So they did, and Amelia waited patiently as the two crawled awkwardly in through the opened flap. They both flopped onto the pillows and blankets that had been laid out inside, and stared at each other in the dim glow of the Christmas lights.

“Okay, have fun, Daddies, goodnight!” Amelia screamed, vanishing around the side. There was a second of feet noisily slapping along the floor, then a grunt from Damian as Amelia tackled him onto the couch, and let out a fit of giggles.

Conner and Tim smiled at each other. Tim slowly rolled towards Conner, flopping an arm across his chest.

“I love you.” He whispered. Conner smiled, tucked some loose hairs behind Tim’s ear.

“Love you too.” He promised, leaning down to meet Tim in a kiss. The kiss instantly dissolved into multiple, adoring, but quiet, Damian’s request at the forefront of both their minds.

After a few moments, though, they settled, leaning into each other as they listened to Amelia entertain her uncle. Then, they went through the movie suggestions Damian had left, picked one, and set it up to play.

It was lame, and Damian would tell them that for weeks to come, but they both fell asleep before the movie ended. Before the movie really even got started.

But that was alright. Because they were together. Because, in a way, they still got their date.

Because when they woke up the next morning, they found Titus guarding the front of the tent, and their daughter snuggled between them, fast asleep and holding both of their hands.

Conner smiled as he rolled deeper into the embrace of his family. “You know what?” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss Tim good morning. Tim hummed in response. “I think this is better than any date night could have been.”

Tim yawned a smile, and burrowed himself and his daughter even deeper into the blankets, and his husband’s space.

[angelruel]

vintage pt.2

      summary: the reader gets into an accident which causes her to lose her memory. as Ruel begins to rebuild their relationship and recall the good memories between them, some bad ones are restored as well and might threaten their future. 

masterlist

Word Count: 4.4 k (kind of long, oops)

       “Soooo what’s my favorite color?”

       “Easy. Blue,” he retorted while reaching over to fill in a space on the tic tac toe board that Y/N had drawn on her empty lap desk. He was the x’s and she played the o’s. It was a bit difficult for Ruel to pretend to not know all of her tricks she played in this game, but he was a very convincing loser. She had also taken the opportunity of his return to test him on some trivia of her personal likes and dislikes. 

       “Okay, here’s a good one,” she said as she filled the left hand corner on the board with a perfect circle. Ruel learned a long time ago that her strategy was to fill two corners and the center spot of the board in order to have an upper hand on winning. He watched her play the same way over again. Ruel admired her predictability and he almost felt confident enough that her tic tac toe skills returning would somehow correlate to her feelings for him to return as well.

       “Well finally a good one. Lay it on me.” He gave her his signature soft smile that he always grants her when he’s being his sweetest version of a boyfriend.

       “What’s my favorite song? Or, at least one of my favorite songs.”

       Ruel scrunches up his nose in thought, “hmmm. I’m gonna need a little more context, bub.”

       “Okay so maybe my favorite song I like to hear on a road trip. Something that gets me energized.” Ruel found it funny that she was reaching for more and more clues to jog her memory. They both knew that couldn’t she remember the last road trip she’d been on, or any of them for that matter. He was proud that she was at least in a more positive mood about not remembering things. 

       “Wait a Minute! by Willow Smith. There’s one.”

       Y/N’s happy expression dropped to a confused one. 

       “Huh? I don’t listen to Willow Smith.”

       They both just sat there for a while. There was still an apparent wall that Y/N had built up to secure herself from being hurt by Ruel since she barely knew him. 

       But the truth was that she barely knew herself.

       “Well, I guess I did listen to her music,” she dropped her head down. “I guess I just can’t remember it.” 

       Ruel used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe off the marker drawings on Y/N’s desk tray so that he could lean over it to hold her hands.

       “Hey, how about we do something else? I brought back some stuff like you asked me for.” She looked up and gave him a soft smile when he let go of her hands to grab a blue shoebox from the floor.

       “Oh, you brought gifts! Yay!” she exclaimed while clapping her dainty hands over and over. He sat the box in front of her lap on the hospital tray and she stared at it for a minute. One of the things she did remember was that blue was her favorite color. And after having a few conversations with Ruel, she discovered that his was brown. So, she assumed that the color of the box was a little nod to her. She thought that was really sweet.

       “You can go ahead,” he encouraged her. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

       She hesitated to lift the flimsy lid from the top. Partly because she was afraid that seeing the contents wouldn’t help jog her memories at all, and also because she was still pretty weak from the constant dosage of pain meds she’d grown accustomed to. 

       The first things to come out of the box were some polaroids and a bunch of little papers she grabbed that were grouped together. One of the polaroids showed a group photo in front of a campfire with little writing at the bottom that said ‘new years 2020.’ There were some post-it notes with little messages written on them in pencil. They were fading but Y/N could still make out what they said. It was a girl’s handwriting, and there was a little drawing of a pond? Or maybe a lake. 

i drew you a pond since you wanna act like a silly goose all the time. bitch.

               -y/n

       There was another one filled with words instead of a cute drawing, and she assumed this one was a serious matter.

hi, love. i left to go watch the sunrise with coco around 4 am-ish. you probably would’ve wanted to join us, but you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. and coco said that you’ve been smothering me lately and encouraged me to sneak out. anyways, i’ll probably be back before you see this, but just in case i’m not, don’t call the cops. okay that’s all. in case i never return, i love you. 

                -y/n (under the heavy influence of stella)

       Ruel chimed in to explain. “Yeah, you used to leave me little notes like that sometimes instead of texting like a normal person.” 

       “And you kept them?”

       “Of course I did. I’m not a monster.” He joked and she playfully hit his chest with the stack of notes. Ruel scooted his chair closer to the side of Y/N’s bed and leaned in. “Lets see what else we got in here.”

       There were movie tickets, receipts from restaurants, and even old wristbands from festivals. 

       “Is this what you meant when you said I grow attached to material things?” She laughed on the outside but in reality, Y/N was so infatuated in the idea that a boy would keep a box of things that reminded him of her and their relationship. 

       “Ha yeah, I guess it kind of rubbed off on me after a while.” Ruel reached his hand into the box as well and pulled out a little beaded bracelet. It had a simple pattern of ocean blue and brown wooden beads. He played with it in between his fingers.

       “I remember this. Your cousin made it for us when you brought me to Thanksgiving. She kept running back and forth asking us what our favorite colors were. It was so cute. And she said we had to share it,” he reminisced. 

       He gave her the bracelet which she carefully placed on the wrist that wasn’t connected to an IV. There were mostly pictures in the box. Pictures of Y/N and Ruel in different settings: kissing, posing next to venue signs with his name on it, cooking, etc. She picked up one of the pictures and examined it carefully. 

       “I remember this,” she said in a nonchalant matter. Ruel looked up at her, then back at the picture in her hand.

       “You do?” 

       “Yeah, I remember that whole trip. That was a fun trip. Hmm.” She hummed to herself in bliss with a grin on her face. 

       “Tell me about it,” he grinned back at her. “What do you remember?” She looked down for a while. It was almost like the times they spent together were in secret, and too precious to share with anyone else. She felt a deep connection to someone-whoever it was to make her feel such strong emotions in just the echos of the times they spent together. Y/N began longing for the person who made her experience this type of fondness. The person she was looking for was right in front of her. Why was she holding back?

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       “Okay, how do I say this,” Y/N’s hand snaked up to her head to rake through her hair as she paced in deep thought. She took in a deep breath and turned around to look at him sitting in the hospital chair across the room.

       “I-I want this to be special. I mean, you’ve been so patient and considerate with me. You haven’t tried to rush me into anything at all. But I see the way you look when you think I’m not paying attention. You’re hurting, and I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to finally give in. Well not, finally give in, but. You know, you know what I’m trying to say right?” She used every ounce of energy she had to walk across the room to face him. She picked him up and brought his face close to hers. 

       “I’m trying to tell you that I love you,” she whispered and smiled softly. Before she could say anything else, Y/N heard the doorknob rattle in desperation to open it. 

       She quickly threw the teddy bear back into the chair and tried to pretend that she was doing anything else. 

       Ruel leaned into the door frame and struggled to keep his balance as he carried a Taco Bell bag and two drinks in his hands. 

       “Oh, let me help you with that,” Y/N rushed over to him to grab the drinks and his eyes grew in shock.

       “Well, it’s nice to see you up and moving so much. The doctor was right, you really have been getting stronger every day.” Y/N smiled up at him with pride as they both settled the food onto her desk. “So, have you heard anything yet?” 

       “Anything about what,” Y/N mumbled in between taking bites of her soft taco. She knew exactly what he was referring to, though.

       “Oh, you know. Like when are you gonna get out of this place? I mean, with the way you’re up and walking now,” he brought his free hand up to rest on the back of her neck as he examined her face with concerned eyes. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? They said four to six weeks, but by the looks of it, you’re healing up really well. You’ve done so good lately.”

       She mouthed ‘thank you’ and gave him another wide smile. Y/N was happy that he was proud of her progress. He played a big part of her growth, though. Through the discomfort and the multiple procedures she had to undergo, Ruel was always there at the side of her bed to rely on. Whether she was up at 4 am crying because she couldn’t remember the names of her dogs or freaking out in excitement after being able to stand up on her own, he was there for it all.

       And as her strength developed each day, so did her trust and love for him. She assumed that it wasn’t the same as their previous relationship, but it was more than enough to keep them happy. He would always tell her that he loved her, but she didn’t say it back. He told her it was fine, that he knew she didn’t really know who he was and he wouldn’t hold it against her. But in return, he needed for her to accept that he still loved her as much as he did before the accident and to be okay with him loving her even if it meant that she couldn’t love him equally back for a while. 

       But after spending so much time with him, Ruel was hardly a stranger to Y/N anymore. He was a friend, a very understanding and attractive friend. She couldn’t ignore the burning sensation she felt deep in her stomach when he would cuddle up close to her on the bed during their movie nights. She couldn’t ignore the desire or the comfort she felt for him any time that he was around (which was very often because Ruel was always around). He told her that he would wait for her, that she should take her time to decide if she wanted to continue their relationship whenever she was ready. He told her that she’d just gone through a major trauma and that she needed to focus on getting better. He said he would wait for her, but a part of her feared that he was only saying this to make her feel better. She feared that he had already accepted that they were just friends, that maybe he’d already began a new romance with some skinny long-haired girl in Sydney and he was just waiting for Y/N to get her strength back so that he could go home to her. 

       “Okay, well I have to tell you something,” she finally came out with. Ruel sat up straight in his chair to give her his full attention. His eyes were fixated on her face and his hands rested in his lap. She found herself lost in thought trying to remember what she wanted to tell him but she couldn’t focus on anything but his beauty. 

       “Did they already tell you whether you’re going home or not?” he laughed a little as he went to grab his drink off of the desk. “Did I miss it when I went to get lunch?” He used the side of his jeans to wipe the water that got on his hand from the cup. His huge hand. The same huge hand that he then used to move the long strands of hair out of his face. He’d previously told her that she did not like the long hair look on him and always encouraged him to get haircuts and shave. In the moment, Y/N couldn’t figure out why the hell anyone would ever encourage him to change his appearance when he looked like that. The long hair and mustache gave him a much more mature look in comparison to the old pictures and videos she would look at of him. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to cut the hair that she so desperately wanted to run her fingers through. She quickly snapped out of it and shut her eyes so she couldn’t look at the beautiful boy in front of her.

       “I really do have to tell you something,” she started and stopped because she was nervous. With her eyes still closed, she felt Ruel’s hand grab hers.

       “What’s going on, why are you acting so weird?” he let out a nervous laugh and Y/N realized that he was probably feeling the same anxiety as her in the moment. She knew that someone had to be the confident one in this scenario, and she decided that it would be her. She took one last deep breath and let go of it.

       “Do you remember what I told you when I first told you I loved you?”

       “Yes,” he laughed again, “Do you want me to tell you the story again?” She nodded quickly in a child-like manner and looked at him in adoration.

       “It was a little after a month of us dating and I’d just taken you home after we went out driving and just hanging out. I was almost back in the car when I saw you run out of the house, barefoot, yelling at me to wait.” Y/N laughed a little and felt the tension between the two of them begin to melt away. 

       “And then what did I do?”

       “You went into this whole speech about how you felt and how you were very scared to be vulnerable because you were afraid of being hurt. And then you said something that I’d never forget,” he looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were written on the tiles, “you told me that the fear you felt only grew as you fell more in love with me. You said you thought that it would never go away, but you didn’t want it to stop you from embracing the happiness you felt when you were with me. And then you told me you loved me, and that you were scared of me. You said that I made you wanna jump into the fear rather than run away from it. You said you knew that you loved me as soon as you felt scared. Because you knew you had found something worth cherishing. And if it ever went away, you didn’t think you’d survive it.” He looked down. After saying all of that, it still seemed like there was something he was missing. He looked as if he didn’t manage to not break her heart. He was scared too.

       “Ruel?” Y/N let her hands relax and gripped onto his tighter. 

       “Yeah?”

       “I’m scared.” She began to fiddle with his long digits and almost felt hesitation to do anything next.

       “What are you afraid of-” he began, but was interrupted by the connection of her lips onto his. He freed his hand and rose it up to the back of her neck so he could deepen the kiss. They kissed again, and again. They kissed until their faces were red and she broke away for a moment to catch her breath. She smiled at him and he looked back at her in disbelief. 

       “I love you. I really do, Ruel. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long but I don’t want to be just friends. I want you in my life like you used to be,” her eyes dropped to her lap and her expression changed, “before everything got so fucked up.”

       He grabbed her face again and began to pepper it with kisses. At this point, Ruel was halfway onto her bed. She brought up her dainty hands to cup his face and she gently pulled away again. Ruel hitched a rushed breath out as he pouted in confusion as to why she pulled away. 

       “Oh yeah, I’m going home today.” She smiled with her teeth and he laughed in pure bliss before grabbing her face again.

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       The boxes piled in the middle of the living room all started to disappear one by one. Y/N watched in awe as Ruel picked up every box and placed it in its proper area. Her legs swung back and forth in boredom while she waited on top of the kitchen counter where Ruel had placed her since she refused to wear shoes on the trip to her apartment.

       “You’re such a good slave,” she told him in a sweet tone as her eyes followed him across the area. He shook his head, barely giving her an ounce of the attention she practically begged for, and continued moving things around. 

        “Honey are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own like this? You can stay back home a little longer if you’d like,” Y/N’s mother remarked. She looked at her daughter with concern.

        “I’m not alone, I have Ruel. And besides, I’ve already left the nest once before. I should be fine.”

        “Well I guess I’ll be on my way home now. Call me if you need anything. Anything.” Y/N pecked a kiss on her cheek and guided her mom outside.

        By the time she got back into the apartment, the living room was clear of boxes and she moved down the hall in search of her boyfriend. She found Ruel in her bedroom on the edge of the bed hunched over his phone. 

        “What’s so interesting?” She sat down beside him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Once she realized what he was watching, she pulled out one of his airpods so she could listen in. It was from her Youtube channel she started a few months ago. She had faint memories of vlogging herself doing normal things like grocery shopping or going to her brother’s football games. She’d only looked at a few of her storytime videos, including the one where she details how she met Ruel. This was a video she hadn’t seen before, though. It was of her and Ruel together in some resort. It looked like they were on vacation and he explained to her that they were in Amsterdam for some music festival and had decided to make an entire trip out of it since it was so close to their anniversary. They’d coordinated matching outfits for the first weekend and were posing in front of the bathroom mirror together like lovesick idiots.

        “Damn, I’m so jealous of us.”

        Ruel let out a low chuckle at her and skipped through the parts she’d recorded of his performance.

        “Yeah, most people are.” He fast forwarded to a portion of the video after they returned to the hotel. Ruel was in the shower and Y/N was laying on the bed, recently showered, detailing all of the ways she was proud of her boyfriend. He laughed when she poked fun of how he forgot his own lyrics on stage.

        “Well that was almost cute,” he added and locked the phone.

        “Hey, it’s still pretty cute,” she laughed, “You can’t be mad at me for telling the truth, babe.”

        “Babe, huh?” he questioned as he turned to face her.

        “What, is that weird? Or too soon? I mean, you call me ‘bubs’ and ‘love’ all the time,” she looked down and played with the details of her jeans.

        “It’s adorable. I love it. And I love you,” he reassured her as he cupped her face and pulled it in for a puffy kiss. She kissed him back, this time with more dominance. Y/N kissed Ruel like there was a pot of gold hidden somewhere in his mouth that she was determined to get.

        Ruel matched her energy right away. He kissed her back and gripped the back of her neck to guide her face closer into his. They adorned each other with open mouths and full hearts. As they continued, Y/N felt the urge to go further and further with him, exploring his body and getting to know him on a more intimate level. They were so good at making out, it seemed like they’d done it a thousand times before. It felt like she was kissing a lover from a different lifetime, like she’d replayed scenarios over and over which all ended with her loving him. She couldn’t remember ever doing this with him before, but her body remembered. Everything with Ruel came with such ease. Every time he touched her body, she was overcome with euphoria and only craved more. She craved being closer to him, kissing him deeper.

        “Mmm, take this off please,” she tugged on his shirt and he quickly pulled it off before resuming his actions. Y/N felt herself falling into an intoxicated state as she moaned against his mouth. He responded to her by wrapping his hand around her thigh and pulling it closer against him. They both began to move in sync with each other, both giving and taking as their bodies danced a routine they knew too well. Y/N was so distracted by Ruel that she didn’t even hear her mother walk back in through the front door. She only whined when he pulled his face away from hers.

        “Why’dyoustop,” she breathed out. She was out of breath and watched him with puppy dog eyes as he stood up.

        “Your mom is back,” he stated flatly. He was clearly out of breath too and he was trying to calm himself down so he could see what was going on in the front.

       “...so?” she gave him a blank stare and patted on his side of the bed to join her again, “she can let herself out.”

       “Don’t worry, bubs. We’ve got time,” he chuckled to himself and pulled his shirt back on over his head. Y/N sighed and jumped from her side of the bed to join Ruel in the living room.

       “I’m sorry, hun. I forgot the most important box: your things from the hospital.” Y/N’s mother placed a small box on the counter and tapped the top of it lightly, “This is what you had on you when the crash happened. There’s not much in there, just the clothes you were wearing, your wallet, your phone,”

       “My phone?” Her eyes perked up. So did Ruel’s. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I bet there’s a bunch of clues in there to help jog my memory,” she picked up the box and skipped down the hallway to drop it off. 

       “I’m pretty sure it’s dead, so you’ll have to find a charger for it. You probably have the same kind.” Her mom gestured towards Ruel, who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes were fixated in thought, emotionless and dazed in a trance.

        “Huh? Oh yeah, probably. Sure.” He snapped out of his guilty state quickly and turned to see Y/N coming back from her bedroom.       

        “Was that it, Mom? Cause we were just about to go out and get some food before it gets dark.” They both said goodbye and hugged Y/N’s mother. Once the door was shut behind her, Y/N grabbed Ruel’s hand with a quickness. His worries were suddenly gone as she led him down the hall. 

        It wasn’t long before they’d continued right where they left off. Y/N was still indulging herself in him and embracing the comfort she felt in his arms. She gripped the fabric of his shirt into her fists to deepen the kiss and felt the vibration from his mouth into hers as he let out muffled moans. With each kiss, she found herself thinking about all of the things she couldn’t wait to do with him before another thought popped into her mind and snapped her out of the daydream. She pulled away from him and turned her head towards the box.

        “I’ve been wondering what was left on my phone,” she gestured to the dresser. “I need to plug it up so I can see what was going on before I lost my memory. It would be cool to see who I last talked to right before my life was ruined, right?” She laughed and began to sit up. Ruel grabbed her hand and lightly pulled it so she could come back down to him.

        “I thought you wanted to do this, yeah? I mean hey, this is our first official night together alone. We can look into the phone later, right?”

        Y/N nodded and laid back down next to him. “Hmmm, you’re right. This first, phone later,” she declared before connecting their lips once more. As Ruel rolled his lanky body on top of hers, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why Ruel was so against her looking at her phone. Was there a dirty secret in there that he didn’t want her to find? She dismissed her paranoid thoughts and continued.

a/n: okay, so that’s that on that. ugh what is on that phone that he doesn’t want her to see???? i hope this makes sense, i’ve reread it so many times and it seems like crap but i’m still going to post it. thank you for the support of my page, and please send me asks with what fics you would like to see next ;)

[booklover41802]

Could you do a Jurdan fanfic where they reunite post During Jude’s banishment but pre-queen of nothing but Jude is on a date, or Cardan thinks some guy is courting Jude and he jealously glamours the guy to leave her alone. And it leads to angst?

Of course, lovely! Thank you for the request! It turned out a bit longer than I had anticipated, and I tweaked it a bit, but I’m happy with the result. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I loved writing it.

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Jude Durate, High Queen of Elfhame, Wife to Cardan Greenbriar, was on her seventh date with a human boy. The boy was sweet, the complete opposite of the folk in Faerie. The kind of boy you fell for slowly over time until you looked at him one day and realized that you were wholly and utterly in love with him. 

Jude was terrified of him. Vivi had set them up, wanting Jude to heal from the scars of Faerie, and during the month and a half she’d been in the mortal lands, she learned what people meant when they said your heart could be divided in two. Though she loved Cardan, he seemed like a dream, like she could never truly have him. Lucas was more real, more than a daydream. 

Attempting to be discreet, Jude slanted her eyes to study the boy walking next to her, chattering on about mundane things. He was averagely tall with sandy blonde hair and striking emerald eyes. He looked nothing like Cardan. In her eyes, that was all that mattered. He was a distraction, a bit of fun during her banishment. After all, her delightful husband was surely doing the same.

They were walking along the pier near a beach Jude had discovered during the month away from Faerie. It was a quiet spot, away from the worrying gaze of Vivi. The boy, Lucas, suddenly smiled at her shyly, a flush reddening his cheeks to a brilliant flame. “Would it be okay if I held your hand?”

Jude’s heart hammered in her chest, wondering what she was getting herself into. If she said no, his disappointment would simmer awkwardly between them. If she said yes… would it be a betrayal to her vows? She swallowed the phlegm in her throat, trying to shove away all thoughts of what this small gesture meant. Without giving herself a moment to second guess what she was doing, Jude forced her lips to upturn at the corners, as though she was pleased he asked. “I would like nothing more.” She stretched out her hand and laced his fingers with hers, secretly enjoying the feel of his smooth palm against her calloused one. Lucas’s eyes widened imperceptibly at her move. 

Wonderment filling his gaze, Lucas studied her scarred palm. “Where did you get this scar from?” He traced the scar she had received when she pledged her loyalty to Dain with reverence.

What was she to tell him? She couldn’t very well say that she had cut open her own palm in order to gain the protection of the Prince of Elfhame. He would think her mad, and then who knows what would happen to her. She would have to lie, as she did about most things. Her mortal ability to skirt around the truth came in handy once more. “Childhood accident. You know how kids are. Magnets for disaster!”

Lucas chuckled, the fading light of the sun hitting the golden flecks of his eyes as he turned his head towards her. “I know exactly what you mean!” His fingers danced over her scar lightly, lovingly while his other hand traced circles in the sand. “When I was six years old, and learning how to ride a bike, I lost control and crashed right into a big old maple tree! Cut open my arm horribly. My grandma almost had a heart attack with the amount of blood that was on me.” When he mentioned his grandma, his face took on a softened look, his full lips fondly turning up as he reminisced on the past. 

“Both of us are covered in scars, as the two accident prone children we were.” She was deflecting, she knew, from the truth. But it was the only way to keep him safe from her past. 

From the corner of her eye, Jude saw a Golden Retriever huddled up against a building, with the faint shimmer of wings hovering in her peripheral vision. Jude’s pace slowed down as the pixie tormenting the dog smirked at her, taunting her. Even now, far away from Court, her past continued to haunt her, reminding her how she did not fit into the mortal world. She would never be safe here.

Lucas, oblivious to the pixie and her racing thoughts, pointed out a landmark on the far side of the coast. “That lighthouse over there is where I lost my first tooth. I was so excited by the ships, I wiggled my loose tooth a little too hard. Blood gushed all over me, staining my favorite shirt. My parents fussed over me for days. I even had the tooth fairy visit me for the first time. Found a whole dollar underneath my pillow the next morning.”

The tooth fairy. Such a human tradition. Jude had never experienced it, as her parents had been murdered before her teeth fell out. 

A few people moved around the two of them on the sidewalk, not wanting to interfere with the moment they were having. Jude, not aware they would be seen by anybody, blushed fiercely. She looked away from the fond looks people threw her way, and pulled Lucas to a stop. She dragged him over to the sand, far away from the pixie, and made to sit down. Mercifully, he didn’t question it. “What are your parents like?” She asked, trying, and failing, to calm her nerves.

 “They were wonderful people from what I can remember. Every Saturday night they took me to the lighthouse to look at the ships docking in the harbor. My father worked there, and rarely left his post. The sea called to him, as it does to me.” Ships now were now pulling in, guided by the beam of light pouring out from the top of the lighthouse. Lucas watched the boats, a fascinated look taking over his features.

As the sun set over the horizon, glowing softly with pinks, purples, and oranges, gulls crying out in the distance, waves crashing against the beach, Jude felt a sense of peace settle over her, despite the pixie. With Lucas it was easy to feel safe, to let her mind drift away. In another life, she pictured herself with him. Forcing the words out around the memories of Cardan, she softly asked, “Have your parents died?”

With a rueful smile, Lucas looked up at the sky watching the seagulls circle overhead, his eyes far away. “Yeah. They died in a fire when I was eight. My grandparents raised me after that. It was hard to accept that they were gone for a while. I couldn’t even go to the lighthouse without thinking of them, of having the memories crash over me like the waves against the shore.” He was becoming detached, distant.

Jude did something she never expected herself to do. Gently, she took his hand out of hers, pulling his face towards her, so that they were eye to eye. “My parents died when I was seven. I guess we’re both orphans. I was raised by an… uncle after that with my two sisters. You’re not alone. Orphans always find each other, searching for a home in one another, hoping they will finally belong somewhere.”

The sea rocked against the sand, splashing the two of them with little droplets. Neither noticed, too lost in the depthless ache they felt deep in their chests. 

Reaching out a shaky hand, Lucas brushed away a stray strand of hair that was stuck against her cheek. “I think I’ve found my home.”

Knowing she was already damned, Jude leaned forward and drew Lucas into her arms, resting her chin on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He smelled of cedar, the sea, with faint undercurrents of spices. She shut her eyes, relishing the feel of safety in his arms.

His breath tickled her ear as he moved towards her. “What was your childhood like? You never talk about it.” Immediately she stiffened, memories flashing by of a gentry member biting off the tip of her ring finger, another yanking her out from under a table at a revel and being tormented and glamoured, wearing rowan berries everywhere to avoid her mortality betraying her.

A childhood that was no childhood at all. 

“It was a childhood like no other,” she choked out. 

He pulled back, grasping her forearms and looking into her eyes, brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry if I hit a sore subject, I only wish to know you more.”

Before she could answer she was hit with the scent of roses, citrus and the overwhelming smell of wine. There was only one being with that aroma that she knew. Cardan.

Sure enough, there he glided behind her on the sand, his black eyes boring into her, burning her like a brand. His tail peeked out from his trousers, gently swaying in the wind. A cruel grin bedecked his face, as he narrowed in on the boy who held her in his arms. 

“Jude?” Lucas asked, drawing her gaze away from her husband. Gods. Her husband. The King of Elfhame was here. In the mortal lands. And here she was, on a date.

“Sorry, I-I think I’m getting tired.” Behind Lucas’s back, Cardan snickered.

Lucas nodded, eyes roving over her too bright eyes, the fake smile adorning her lips. “Before we turn in, I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. Just a moment.” Reaching in the back pocket of his pants, Lucas drew out a necklace with a sterling silver ring hung on the chain. The ring twisted around a small pearl, edged with small gems placed around the base. The ring was simple, beautiful. Perfect. 

She was speechless. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” But just as she said it, the raven haired boy from her past crept into her vision, patiently waiting for her to go over to him. Lucas didn’t notice, too lost in Jude to see anything beyond. 

Lucas gently swung the necklace around Jude’s throat, carefully securing the latch. He lifted up the hair that was trapped by the chain. Jude smiled softly at the gift, and at the boy who had given it to her without a second thought, attempting to block out Cardan so she could remember this moment without the stain of Faerie. “I found the pearl when I was out at sea a few weeks ago, and I thought of you. I made it myself last night. It’s a promise necklace, since I didn’t know what size ring you wore. A promise that, one day, we’ll be married.”

Jude’s smile slipped off her face. “Marriage?” Unbeknownst to him, she was already married to another, her heart belonged to another. In another life, perhaps, this could have worked, but things being the way they were, it wouldn’t last. She had duties and promises to fulfill.

Behind them, Cardan had gone stone-still, his tail twitching back and forth. A strange light filled his eyes, the golden ring around his pupil disappearing, his mouth set in a hard line. It was an odd sight to see. Cardan standing on the sand on a mortal beach with his extravagant clothing studded with gems and jewels, his crown perched haphazardly on his head. Of course he brought his crown, as though he was reminding Jude of who he was. If any mortals noticed him, they didn’t let on. He must have been glamoured, for everyone casually flowed around him as though he wasn’t even there.

Lucas twisted around to see why Jude kept looking over his shoulder, and found nothing, for he couldn’t see the ghost from her past. “What do you keep looking at? Have I moved too fast?” He turned to look at her once more, a heartbreaking expression on his face. The confusion hurt Jude as she could never tell him the truth. Never let him know who she really was, and where she had come from.

“Just-Just a dog. I like dogs, that’s all.”

Carefully Lucas reached for her forearms and pulled her towards him until they were mere feet apart. Cardan moved closer.

“Jude. I’m sorry if I’ve startled you with my declarations. It’s just that I know you’re what I want. I know I’ve only known you for a little over a month, but with each passing day I fall in love with you a little bit more. Your wit, your intellect, your dimples, that look you get when you think no one is looking, when you look happy and relaxed, your guard let down. I love you, Jude. If you don’t feel as strongly as me, I understand, I do. I’m prepared to wait a thousand years.” He nestled his face into her neck, his sandy hair tickling her skin.

Unconsciously she began to run her fingers through his soft hair, wondering if he could feel her racing heart. “Lucas-” She started, about to break his heart, to let him down easy, but suddenly, he jerked under her touch, as if he were a puppet and a puppet master had pulled his strings.

He pulled back as if in a trance, his limbs rigid, rose to his full height and began to walk away. Jude scrambled to her feet and attempted to pull him around. Oblivious to her, he kept marching forwards towards Cardan, never looking back. She hurried in front of him, to see his face. A glazed look had overtaken his features, a blissful expression on his peaceful face. “Lucas?”

There was no answer, no matter how hard she willed him to stop, no matter how many times she shouted his name, there was nothing. No sign of the boy who had given her his heart. So, defeated, she stopped trying to get him to halt and followed him towards the boy who had shattered her life.

Cardan was smirking at her, his hands placed casually in his pockets. “Hello, my darling Jude. How are the mortal lands treating you?” He purred, as soon as Jude was within range. He held out his arms to her, wanting to draw her into a hug, but she crossed her arms, unwilling to give him what he desired.

When she saw Cardan again, she thought she’d be overjoyed, to leap at the chance to go back. But she was angry. So unbelievably angry she wanted to hurt him as he had hurt her. “After banishing me and betraying my trust, you ask how I am? You show up, unannounced, mind you, and expect me to embrace you with open arms? No. I shall not. And you glamoured my date.” Jude frowned, her lips curling downwards, looking at Lucas’s dazed expression next to the King of Elfhame.

He dropped his arms, a wounded expression on his face. “I come in peace, to offer you a chance to return. I thought after all my letters, you would understand my regret and how much I wish to see you home.”

Letters? There had been nothing but silence. “Is this another one of your tricks? To get to me to sympathize with you? I never received anything. And Faerie is not my home. I am mortal, as I am so often reminded, and replaceable. I have no home, not anymore, not after you banished me. I cannot return.”

Again, the small smile danced across his lips, as if this were a game. “Have I finally outwitted you, Jude Durate, master of tricks and wit?”

“What are you talking about?” The way he looked at her sent shivers down her spine. She had forgotten how he made her feel. Every touch, every look was as though a fire was exploding in her heart. Passion and desire warred over her common sense until she had given in to the whims of her deepest wants. Look how that had turned out.

Love was a fickle thing. It made you lose all sense until you were a love-stricken fool, incapable of seeing the ugly truth, wanting to believe the best of your partner. Love had turned her into the Court Jester. Playing tricks for them all until she had lost her balance and everything came crashing down around her while everyone laughed. A cascade of disaster.

Cardan took a step closer until they were sharing breath, every feeling she had forced down deep rose up again at the close proximity they were in. Cautiously, as if he didn’t want to startle her, he gently ran a finger down his face. “You could have returned any time you wanted. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown, let her not step one foot in Faerie or forfeit her life. Are you not Faerie’s Queen? Are you not my wife?”

Jude felt the world closing in on her as she realized just what this meant. She could have pardoned herself. She was a fool, blinded by her wounded feelings. “Wife in name only. Who banishes their wife the day after they are married? You could have warned me, at least. Instead you let me go off into the mortal world, thinking I’d never see you again. I thought I knew better than to get involved with a Faerie, a King at that.” Now Cardan turned his attention to Lucas, still looking for all the world a love-sick puppy. “Is this mortal the better option?” Cardan’s lip curled. “A mortal who doesn’t even have decent fashion sense.” Cardan eyed Lucas’s clothes seriously, as if his very existence was an affront to everything Cardan stood for.

“Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything except get mixed up with the wrong person.”

Cardan roughly got hold of Lucas’s shirt and pulled him close in an intimate embrace. “Faerie leaves scars to everyone who passes through. You cannot pass through the fire unburned. So he shall suffer the consequences of trying to marry my wife.”

“Cardan what are you-” Faster than she could follow, faster than she knew he could move, he whipped out a knife from the folds of his tunic and slashed Lucas’s forearm, cutting through fabric - with her own blade for that matter. Lucas didn’t even flinch, the glamour erasing any emotion he felt.

Cardan released the boy, his chest heaving, blade dripping in blood, staining the golden flecks of sand a brilliant red.

She lunged forwards trying to sop up the blood with the edge of her dress that had begun to drip down through the torn folds of his shirt. The only thing she accomplished was soaking the blood into her clothes and skin. 

“Now the remnants of Faerie will forever be etched upon his skin. He’ll always possess the fear of the land and the retaliation he’ll receive if he decides to chase after you again.” He looked proud of himself, as though he did something worthy or noble. “Come back with me, Jude. Let us return, as King and Queen, as Husband and Wife.” 

How dare Cardan believe he had the right to mark a mortal like so, and expect her to be okay with it? Expect her to return to him with open arms. “I will only return with you if you promise to leave Lucas alone. No assassin’s sent after him, no poison in his cup. No harm ever to come to him.” Her heart bled for the boy who had done nothing wrong other than fall in love with the wrong person.

Cardan’s tail twitched back and forth as he contemplated her offer. “If that is what you wish, I shall grant it.” He waved his hand and Lucas lumbered away, arm still bleeding profusely.

They watched the boy stumble his way back to his home, listened to the shrieks that accompanied his arrival. Jude hated it. Hated that she was the reason for his pain. 

“You have me back, but I swear to you I will hate you until I die for what you have done. You will never have me as you once did. I’ll be your Wife and Queen in name only.”

“I brought your sword, Nightfell, back from Vivi.” He held out the gleaming blade, as some sort of peace offering. Blood still dripped from the metal. She took it, only because the sword gave her comfort.

“Thank you,” she replied curtly. “Take me back, Cardan.”

“If that is what you wish.”

Jude reached up and fingered the necklace that lay on her collarbone, comforted by the pearl that slid smoothly through her fingers. 

When they reached the bright green fields of Faerie, Jude was welcomed back with open arms. She smiled politely, accepted the congratulations, but felt an emptiness, as though she was missing a limb.

Faerie would never be her home again, nor would the Mortal Lands. She had been cursed to be a wanderer, never to have a place to feel safe. Once she had thought it was Cardan, but she was wrong. She was alone, just as she always was.

Cardan

As Cardan took hold of Jude’s arm to transport her back to Faerie, he wondered if he had done the right thing by glamouring her date and cutting him on the arm with Jude’s blade. He had thought she’d be proud of what he did, as she often resorted to more violent methods at Court. Perhaps he made an error, acted too rashly. Cardan did not know how he could make it up to her. 

Although he had achieved his goal of bringing Jude home, the cost had been too high. Whatever love had been between them, was now squandered into the dirt, crushed beneath his crown. If he had simply been Cardan, and not Cardan, High King of Elfhame, would she still hate him as fiercely as she did? Was it the crown that made him act so impulsively? Or was it because he couldn’t bear to see Jude with someone else?

The awful feeling of jealousy was like a cancer, infecting his mind until he knew nothing else. All he saw was a boy courting his love, his Jude, and he had never wanted to kill a mortal so much before. He once swore to himself he would never spill blood by his own hand, but for Jude, he would do anything.

Yet now, as they were back at Court, Cardan noticed the distance now on Jude’s face as Oriana welcomed Jude back. Noticed how she kept touching the necklace at her throat.

When Jude looked at him, it was with a cold emptiness, a reserved impasse. He loved her still, but it seemed as though they were enemies once again.

Jude Durate, his wife, his Queen, hated him. He did not know if they could come back from it.

Tags: @webcraft4eveh, @illyrian-bookworm, @highladyofstoriesandmusic

[greekgrad12]

It Takes Two: percabeth!au

Mattie Jackson and Hayley Chase meet at the start of summer and discover that they are each other's identical clone. With a little more investigating, the two girls discover that they are, in fact, twins. Things only get crazier when they find out that their adoptive parents were once in love. Now, they have to work together to reunite Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase before Mattie’s dad ends up dating the new camp counselor and Hayley’s mom gets married to a kid hating, gold digger.

And what better way to do that than to switch places?

or

i rewatched It Takes Two and decided to make it percabeth :)

read on ao3 

*******************************************************

Percy Jackson had just finished packing his last duffel bag when he heard a very familiar voice yelling outside his apartment window. A voice that belonged to someone who was supposed to be in the next room over packing her own bags. A frustrated sigh left his lips as he opened the bedroom window looking down towards the street. Just as he suspected, a crowd of children were scattered on the road, some taking up the spaces around the chalk-drawn diamond, others sitting on the sidelines. And right there on the makeshift home plate stood none other than...

"Matilda Sally Jackson!" Percy yelled down from the fourth floor to his daughter, "If I were to walk into your room right now, would your suitcases be packed?"

The ten-year-old girl turned and gave her dad an exasperated look, "Ah come on, dad! Ten bucks say you only just got done!"

"Thankfully, I'm not raising you to be like me," He teased, leaning on the windowsill. He was very much aware of the red tint on his daughter's olive cheeks, even from the distance between the two, "I'm hopefully raising you to be better. Now come finish packing, we're leaving in two hours!"

Percy and his daughter had a great relationship, unlike Percy and his bio-dad or first stepfather. Yeah, he didn't have the best luck in the fatherhood department, but that was why he wanted to do better for his daughter. And he was. Percy spent every day trying to be a good dad to Mattie. He taught her his mother's famous cookie recipe, braided her hair every morning before school, and attended every single swim match she had. Granted he was also the coach, but still.

Mattie didn't have a mom. Well, not one that she remembered anyway. Percy and his ex-wife, Lydia, were on thin ice for a long time. One of their main arguments being, Percy wanted kids, she didn't. Percy knew from a young age that he wanted a family, so there was no use trying to argue that. Somewhere along the way, they had reached an agreement and Mattie was on the way. Halfway through the whole process, Lydia changed her mind. This lead to the fifth argument of the month and to their inevitable divorce.

This also lead to the decision that would change the rest of Percy's life. Would he still adopt baby Mattie?

Yep, adopt. Lydia didn't want to go through the whole pregnancy ordeal and Percy was more than happy to adopt. He knew what it was like to grow up in a tough home and if he could prevent that from happening to another kid, he wouldn't hesitate. Mattie’s birth mother was a 19-year-old girl who was apparently going through a hard time. Truthfully, Percy didn’t know much about her, but it wasn’t due to a lack of effort. When bio-mom picked Percy and Lydia to be the parents of her unborn child, she was in the final stages of her pregnancy and she didn’t want to meet them. The only thing Percy heard about her was that she moved out west somewhere only a week after Mattie was born.

As a social worker employed at Goode Middle School, Percy had the advantage of being college friends with many of the adoption agents. This helped speed up the adoption process tremendously. At first, he saw that as a blessing, but after the divorce, it seemed that Percy was under even more pressure to make his decision.

It took some long talks with his mom to convince Percy that he could still do this; be a single dad. But it was his little sister, Estelle, who convinced him he would be great at it. After all, he had partially helped raise her and she turned out okay. She ate all of their mom's blue cookies, but she was okay. Plus, his family would be right by his side. So, Percy went along with the adoption. He hasn't regretted it once.

Yes, Mattie was adopted, but two you could never really tell. Mattie was daddy's little girl from the very beginning. From their beach days together to their daddy-daughter dates to get cheeseburgers at the local diner, the two were inseparable. By some twist of fate, the baby girl had even grown up to have a shade of green eyes like her dad's.

And that wasn't where the similarities stopped. Mattie was a rambunctious and sarcastic kid. There are times when Percy isn't sure what to expect from her, but more often than not, Mattie was the most helpful and patient kid a single dad could ask for. Still, as easygoing as she could be, Percy knew how proud his daughter was. After being embarrassed in front of her friends, Mattie Jackson had something to prove.

"Just let me hit this ball downtown! Grand slam, home run, guaranteed," Mattie was a lot like her father, but she had ambition. She was a tough girl. A smart girl. She reminded Percy of-

"Okay, fine," He started, "but if it's anything less, you're making me a mug at camp."

The girl shuddered at the idea of having to participate in her least favorite camp activity but nodded nonetheless. She stepped back up to the plate. Mattie was athletic. She hopped around from sport to sport, mainly just for the experience, but there was nothing she loved more than swimming. Her father's love for the water was one of the many things the girl had picked up from him.

But right now, Mattie's focus wasn't on the water. Percy watched as she scrunched her nose up, waiting for the pitch. The boy at the pitchers' mound, one of Mattie's friends, Cody, was taking his sweet time with the ball. Right when it looked like he was about to throw the pitch, he instead turned to his team and signaled for them to back up.

Percy couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips. He wanted a World's Best Dad mug, but at that moment, he wanted his daughter to show those kids who's boss more.

The ball was pitched and the next thing Percy knew, he was hearing the sweet sound of a crack made from the balls' contact with the bat. He cheered as his daughter took first, and again when she rounded the corner for second. The ball had landed somewhere far down the street and the rest of Mattie's team were assuring her it was safe. She made it to third and right when Percy was sure he wouldn't be getting his mug, a car pulled up and parked right over home plate.

Mattie slowed down and stopped right in front of the old car. A confused look was shared between the other kids, but she knew exactly who the vehicle belonged to. And while she was happy to see it, Mattie was pissed that she couldn't reach home from under the car.

"Mattie, your dad called me half an hour ago telling me that you two were just now starting to pack. What are you doing out here?"

Before the girl could answer, Cody's voice rang out at her side.

"Loosing," The boy mocked as he tagged the girl out with the ball.

Mattie turned towards him and glared, "There is no way this counts!"

***

"I want my mug to be blue," Percy teased his daughter as she walked back into their apartment, "with World's Best Dad written in big letters."

"You and I both know that you don't need a mug to know you're the best dad. Plus, I suck at clay molding," The girl complained, "Not to mention that it's the most boring activity at camp."

Her father smirked, "Well you should have thought of that before you agreed to the bet."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mattie grumbled, "Can I just pay Rachel to do it for me?"

"No," He laughed, "and don't even try to go behind my back and do it anyway, because I will find out.”

"Okay, you two, settle down," Sally Jackson-Blofis' laughter rang out in the small apartment. As much as Mattie was a daddy's girl, Percy was a bigger mama's boy, "I came by to see you before you leave and drop off some cookies for the trip."

Mattie's eyes couldn't have bulged out of their sockets more when her grandmother pulled out the plastic tub of blue cookies. Just as she went to grab the box, it was pulled out of reach by her father, "Oh, no you don't."

"Oh, come on, dad!" Giving the best puppy dog look she could muster, Mattie looked up at Percy, "Just one?"

Percy had to look at his mother for support. There was little that his daughter couldn't get away with when that look was thrown his way, "Nope. Not until you're done packing."

"Seriously?" His daughter whined, "Wasn't calling me Matilda in front of all my friend's punishment enough?"

"You know, I was this close to naming you Janet," He mocked, holding his pointer finger and thumb so close they were barely touching.

Mattie's big eyes narrowed into a glare as she stuck her tongue out at her father, "Fine, but don't be surprised if your mug doesn't have a handle."

"I think you're just doing that to make the sculpting easier for you."

A small grin appeared on her face and she shrugged, "Maybe."

Percy rolled his eyes at the girl and chuckled as she walked back to her room. He turned back to his mom and saw her wearing the same endearing look she always has when she watches the interactions between her son and granddaughter.

"You've definitely raised a little you," Sally laughed.

"Well, in that case," Percy grinned and opened the Tupperware container holding the cookies, "I'm sorry for hogging the shower as a kid."

Sally took the container out of his hands before he got the chance to pick out a cookie, "And I'm sorry for not allowing you to be a hypocrite."

"What? I'm done with my packing!" Percy promised as he reached for the container.

"Even the extra blankets? You know how cold the bunks can get at night."

Percy was quiet for a moment before letting out a defeated groan, "You know, I was really proud of myself for a moment there."

"You should still be proud of yourself, honey," Sally grinned, "You're a great dad, and you and Mattie are going to have a great time at camp this year, just like you always do."

Camp Half-Blood was a summer camp that Percy had been attending since he was nine years old. His bio dad had attended the camp in his youth and it was one of the few things that Percy had left of the man after he died. When his mother remarried, it was a safe place away from his first stepfather, Smelly Gabe, a man that Sally Jackson only married because, at the time, she didn't have the funds to properly provide for her son. The camp had a big influence on the man Percy became. The experiences he had, the friends he made, the place where he felt closest to his father.

The girl he fell in love with.

Even years after he grew too old to be a camper, Percy found himself volunteering every summer as a camp counselor. A few years later, he was offered a paid position as an official counselor and the camp social worker. Chiron, the camp activities director, was more than happy to have him back. Especially, when he started bringing his daughter with him.

He couldn't help but smile at that, "Thanks, mom. I'm really excited about this year. You know, Camp Half-Blood was remodeled this past fall. Everything has been upgraded, I can't wait to see it."

"I'm sure it will look great. You've been complaining about the faulty flooring in the pavilion for years."

"There's been a giant crack going down the center of that thing ever since the earthquake back when I was still a camper. That's completely dangerous!"

His mother laughed and raised her arms in defeat, "Trust me, I agree. Still, with all the changes, I'm surprised that the camp could afford all the modifications."

"Yeah, I think the head of the architect company in charge is an old friend of Chiron's. Apparently, they will be coming down and checking out the camp, you know, to see how their work panned out, I guess."

"Well, you'll have to thank whoever they are for fixing your pavilion," Sally teased him as she grabbed a cookie out of the container and took a bite. Percy's mouth fell open as he stared at his mother with a look of betrayal, "What? I don't have to pack anything. Plus, a made them, I don't need justification."

"You are a cruel woman."

***

An hour and a half later, Percy and his daughter were packing their bags -and the extra blankets- into the car and heading towards Long Island Sound. With barely thirty minutes into the trip, half of Sally's cookies had been devoured and they had played a very enthusiastic game of Eye Spy.

"So," Mattie started as she reached for her fourth cookie, "is this the year you finally tell me who A.C. is?”

When Mattie was seven, during her first year at camp, Percy was adamant about showing her everything from his time at camp. Including all his favorite spots and activities from his time there. They visited the horse stables, where Percy told his daughter stories about his favorite horses and how he was one of the best riders. He took her to the strawberry field where they picked strawberries with her uncle Grover, just like the two had done when they were boys. But he was most excited about taking her to the dock and swimming in the water. Some of his most precious memories were made at that beach, on the dock. It was a special place for him. A place where he used to sit with her and escape from the world. A place where a first kiss was perfect under the Fourth of July fireworks. A place where carved initials still stood to this day.

When Mattie first found the letters carved at the end of the dock, she knew immediately that they weren't new. The marks had faded with time. When she realized that the first set of letters in P.J. + A.C. looked familiar, she decided to ask her father, Percy Jackson, if he knew who made the marks. Percy had never been a good liar. That was the day Mattie found out everything about her father's days at Camp Half-Blood. Everything, except who A.C. was.

"Mattie," Percy sighed, eyes staying on the road, "I've told you a thousand times, she's just an old friend. I haven't spoken to her in years, since before you were even born. I don't understand why you're so interested in this."

"Because friends don't carve their initials together on a dock for the world to see," The young girl persisted, blue crumbs falling from the side of her mouth, "That's what couples do in movies and stuff."

"Well, that explains it then. This isn't a movie, T," Truthfully, Percy wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself more, "Besides, the camp went under construction this year, I'm sure the old dock was torn down and rebuilt. It was old."

Although, he would never admit this to his daughter, Percy was hoping, and wishing, and praying to anyone who would listen that the dock stayed the same. Percy would be lying if he said that he wasn't anxious about seeing it again. The thing was old, and he knew that the safety of the campers outweighed the feeling he still got in his stomach when he saw their initials carved together.

Maybe he could have called Chiron. Asked him if the new camp architect would spare that last plank of wood at the very edge of the water. Asked if he could keep it. One last memory of the childhood love he would never admit to never getting over.

What a ridiculous idea, he thought. Still, he always got like this in the summer, especially at camp.

Despite the fact that he was avoiding eye contact and staring towards the road, Percy could feel Mattie's frustrated gaze staring him down, but he held his ground. He was never going to see her again. The last time he saw her gray eyes staring back at him was at eighteen years old, their last summer as campers. She lived in San Francisco, California and would be going to UC Berkeley in the fall. He wasn't surprised, she was a genius. But Percy? He would stay in Manhattan and go to college on a swimming scholarship. They would try and stay in touch like how they did growing up. Busy schedules and adulthood would cause them to fail. Percy would still think of her, but he'd still get married to another woman. Percy would try to make it work, but he would still find himself wishing Lydia were her, and hating himself for it. So he tried to stop, but he couldn't help wondering. Wondering what she was doing. Wondering what could have been. But they hadn't spoken in years.

There was no point in telling his daughter how wonderful she was, because he knew Mattie would fall in love with her, just as he did. And they would never meet.

So, no. Percy would not tell his daughter about the girl he spent every summer with. He would not tell her about the girl who made fun of him for drooling in his sleep. He would not tell her about the girl who would sit with him at the dock and draw building structures while they talked about nothing and everything all at once. He would not tell her about the girl who's comfort book was Matilda, and that she made him read it, and that him joking about how she probably had superpowers like the character, because she too was a genius, made her blush. Percy would not tell his daughter because it would hurt too much.

Percy would not tell his daughter about his first love, Annabeth Chase.

*********

part two :)

[candythemew]

OkLach headcanons?

Now you’re speaking my language! (Oh! And if anyone wants to ask me about headcanons about them with their skekling please send your asks my way! This is just gonna be main canon HC’s)

𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤?

✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

     First off, when the Skeksis were young still finding the specific role, niche, and place that they fit into as they asserted their authority over Thra, SkekOk and SkekLach absolutely HATED each other.     SkekLach saw SkekOk as a pathetic weakling who used his silver tongue and quick wit to charm the gelfling and other skeksis to do his bidding, and to buy into his way of thinking. Convincing people to do things they wouldn’t do normally through flattery and shallow promises. She didn’t like his pompous attitude and held more respect for the beings of Thra who put their thoughts into action like her. Ones who thought tactically, but weren’t afraid to take risks. She didn’t see what anyone saw in him. All she saw was just another one of the Emperor’s lapdogs. Spitting lies and weaving tall tales to uplift himself above the rest.

     SkekOk however saw her as a brutish barbarian! Her avarice knowing no bounds as she raged and pillaged all those who stood in her way. Nothing befitting of a Lord of the Crystal. The gelfling worshiped her like a goddess, no doubt like they did the rest of his peers. But he saw the fear in their eyes. If the skeksis were going to rule properly, they must first create a level of relationship and trust between their subjects. Not fear. Although he himself was prone to flights of fancy, he found her ambitions foolish at best, and dangerously compromising to the empire at worst. Be it her insistence on the thrill of a good raid, or trying her hand at taming one of the most fearsome of beasts of Thra; The Arduff. He couldn’t stand it. Her amazonian demeanor made The Scroll-Keeper see her as nothing more than a ruthless brute. But at the same time, there was a tad bit of jealousy there. As many of his peers saw her as incredibly desirable and beautiful. As well as incredibly wealthy… Some had even attempted at winning her hand; only to be quickly shot down and berated by her. If he was being completely honest, he craved the attention that she received. She was always center of attention. At the time, she was the Emperor’s favorite. This jealousy led him to talk poorly of her behind her back. He stayed far from her as he spread rumors about The Collector in hopes to ruin her reputation.      Although ironically over time, as they were forced to work with each other and face various trials with one another they developed a mutual trust after proving themselves to one another. And even saving each other’s lives a few times! If either of them were to be told at this point that they were going to eventually fall for each other, they would have laughed straight in your face! What a foolish thought? Why would I love them?! ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

Their relationship went in an order similar to this:

Hatred ➺ Reluctant Respect ➺ Acquaintances ➺ Friends ➺ Mutual feelings ➺ Lovers ➺ Mates. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰:

     SkekOk tries to give SkekLach little reasons to keep her chin up. He reminds her to take care of herself and gives her little bits of advice to improve her life. Sometimes he’ll ask for her help for small tasks so she has something to do since she dosn’t have the same motivation she used to before her illness took over most aspects of her life.

     SkekLach is the reason why SkekOk isn’t a dog person. One word. ARDUFF!     SkekLach will intentionally follow SkekOk around his library and mess with his things if she feels like he hasn’t given her enough attention.

    SkekOk suffers from narcolepsy, So SkekLach is there for him to make sure he arrives to meetings on time, or carry him to another room if she finds him asleep somewhere.

     Insulting each other is a regular occurrence between them. Although neither of them have any ill intent towards each other when they do it. It’s like a game to them! Light hearted banter that calls back to their youth before they fell in love. Hence why SkekLach isn’t hurt when SkekOk says she was “NEVER BEAUTIFUL!” and then affirms is with a “Nevaaah~” if you pay attention to the scene, SkekLach can be seen laughing alongside him, even though she’s the butt of the joke. They’re both genuinely having fun bickering.     I also personally like to HC that most Skeksis find simple gestures of affection peculiar and strange. Like everything in a skeksis’s life, gestures of affection are showy and grandiose. But OkLach’s more subtle and slow approach confuses their peers.      They can make each other laugh very easily. They know how the other ticks. One of the things that made skekOk fall in love with hre was SkekLach’s ability to make him genuinely laugh his lungs out! His teasing can also cause a similar reaction. SkekOk’s laughs arranging from childish giggling, to incoherent teary eyed laughter!      Although not as strong as she used to be, the other skeksis are still wary of SkekLach due to her past reputation. Also because she’s not afraid to give you a disease if you REALLY tick her off. She acts as sort of a bodygaurd or wall for SkekOk when he shoots his mouth off or gets in trouble. Nobody’s going to get him except through her! ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔓𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩 𝓐𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫:

     Intertwining tails is a very very intimate thing in Skeksis culture. It shows that you genuinely care for your friend/partner and that you enjoy their presence. For a human it would be kind of like a really good hug. But sadly, SkekLach lost a part of her tail long ago. So doing this is near impossible for them to do unless they’re sitting right next to each other or laying down beside one another in bed. Instead, they have adapted to holding hands like the Gelfling do. Be it for comfort, taking a walk together, or just to feel close. Heck! They do it so frequently that sometimes they don’t even realize they’re doing it! It’s become somewhat of an involuntary habit for them.       When they sleep together, they like to cuddle. SkekLach is the big spoon. Sleeping is hard for her, (I personally HC that she has insomnia) but she sleeps better if she has something to hold on to. Thankfully SkekOk likes being held so this arrangement is perfect. It’s just comforting for both of them.

     They don’t “Kiss” often. I think you can imagine why. Pustules leak and it’s NASTY

     The Scroll-Keeper sometimes has the habit of resting his head on top of The Collector’s when he’s tired.      Neither of them have much hair to preen anymore, but sometimes when they’re alone, in their more intimate moments; skekLach will take off her cowl for skekOk to preen her mane. Her hair has a coarse texture. It’s color mostly grey with small streaks of a faded black. Salt and pepper if you will. It’s a small bit of beauty she still retains even in her disgusting, decrepit state. However, it’s only for his eyes as she’s very self-conscious. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖊~♪ ♫ ♩

     SkekOk and SkekLach are mates. And they have been a mated pair now for the past 400 years. If the Skeksis care to have any sort of marriage/mating ritual, they have done it. You bet your bottom dollar that it was extravagant! A true fairy tale... They can only see each other as life partners and want to make sure that everyone else knows it. Especially SkekLach. Who is known to be dreadfully greedy of her most valuable possessions...

     Much like how many birds mate for life, Skeksis do too. Although being a rather (for lack of a better word) promiscuous race, this is rare. If two develop a strong enough bond, they’ll stick together in an attempt to feel whole. Only sticking with said mate for the rest of their lifetime. However long that may be. Their much more steadfast and patient Mystic counterparts also share this trait.  (By “their” I just mean the race as a whole. Nobody specific.)    Ok and Lach have their own chambers made for themselves. But they also have a shared bedroom that they occasionally sleep in together from time to time.

    SkekOk is a hopeless romantic, and SkekLach couldn’t care less when it comes to flowery poetry. But she admires his passion to his interests. Something she lost desire for in her own life. The Scroll-Keeper will occasionally write her poetry and love letters expressing his feelings to her. Sometimes, in return, she will write him something back. Although riddled with intentional grammar mistakes and poor spelling. Sending him into a flustered angry mess as he corrects her. Only to find something even worse written down as he continues. He’ll read these aloud for all to hear. SkekLach likes to see the reactions he’ll have to her writing. What can she say? He makes her laugh.  ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝓢𝔞𝔡 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔱: ︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

     SkekLach’s death hit SkekOk harder than anyone will ever know. She was a part of him. She was his closest friend, and the love of his life. His mental health suffered immensely from her loss, and he was never truly able to grieve her properly and move on. Instead, over time he developed an unhealthy coping mechanism of talking to himself for hours on end. He pretended that she never left his side.  “No gelfling trick could have ever gotten the best of me!” She would boast...      Eventually he started to hear her voice in whispers... He could swear he could hear her voice from just beyond the hall... Down the corner in her chambers! Only to find an empty room devoid of anything but dusty old trinkets and bittersweet memories. Other times he would hear the distinct metal clang of her blades against her opponent’s weapons as he would wander the now garthim-filled training rooms. He could hear a younger, much more determined tone! Calculated and precise. Once again to wander in and find nothing but empty training grounds chock full of the dark arthropodan soldiers. But it was the nights that were the hardest. On cold starless nights, laying alone in his decadent yet lonely chambers, he would lie alone for hours on end, eyes closed as he tryed to let the soothing grasp of sleep claim him... In the uttermost difficult moments as he drifted off to sleep, He could swear that he could feel her arms wrapped around his scrawny frame. Tails intertwined as she softly whispered a tired “I love you.” Gently leaning her head on his shoulder, The Scroll-Keeper let out a sigh of relief as he fell sound asleep in the arms of his lover... Only to be greeted with an empty bed as he rose once again the next morning. Truly cementing the fact of how alone and incomplete he truly is. He only wishes for these delusions to stop and yet... He can’t bear to let her go... ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰       Sometimes these hallucinations can get so bad that he’ll fall into manic babbling fits where the voices of not only her, but all sorts of beings from his past will haunt him. After these spasms, he returns to his work or simply passes out due to exhaustion. He apologizes for his random outbursts should someone he cares about see him in this state. If he even remembers they were there at all. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

     Remember when I said that skeksis mate for life? Well that grief an animal or human might face hits just as hard to a stone-hearted, cold blooded skeksis as it would to any man. That sorrow that SkekOk faced upon SkekLach’s sudden death caused him immeasurable psychological and emotional damage. As the Skeksis are naturally selfish beings. Besides the support he would receive from his lifelong friend SkekEkt the Ornamentalist, not many were there to comfort him. If The Scroll-Keeper were able to relive one last day with The Collector, even for just a moment. He would do it in a heartbeat. Savoring every second like it was his last day on Thra. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

     Although she doesn’t admit it to anyone else, disguising her distaste of herself under a veil of irony and self deprecation, SkekLach has issues with loving herself. She constantly reminisces over “The glory days.” The skeksis are a dying race and she knows it. They can’t fool her. And on that topic, she’s the worst of them on that regard. Due to her hideous appearance and the immense emotional and physical pain she endures everyday, sometimes she wonders if SkekOk even loves her at all. Is he only staying with her because he has to? Out of obligation, or does he just pity her? Does he wish she were like the skeksis she was all those centuries ago? She struggles with this fear more than she’d like to admit.

     SkekLach feels extremely insecure about the fact that she can’t intertwine her tail with SkekOk’s due to her traumatic injury that left her with only half of her tail remaining. SkekOk, having a much longer flexible tail will often try to wrap it around her waist if they’re sitting right next to each other. The feeling is bittersweet, but much appreciated. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰      In the main timeline, SkekOk and SkekLach did attempt at having a baby. But since the skeksis are completely infertile in that universe, they yielded no results. They keep a small handmade doll in their shared bedchambers of what could’ve been the skekling that they had wanted so badly. Its not much, but it helped them cope and move on. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰  

𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫𝓀 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤! - ℭ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔐𝔢𝔴

[cloveroctobers]

ROBERT “BOBBY” MCKENZIE —

IG info/bio : @/returnofdamckenzie | 426k followers | @/mclitgs2 is my forever boo🤟🏽😍 while @/cardib is my WIFE! She just doesn’t know it yet ❤️ support my work & be part of my family: @/bobbymckcares

24 (25) years young

Born in Dundee, raised in Glasgow, Scotland

Jamaican father named Badrick who is a African studies professor

Caucasian/Scottish mother named Catriona who used to be a au pair but now works as a receptionist in senior living — one eye is honey hazel and the other a dark brown

It was difficult growing up in a school that didn’t accept Bobby being biracial, it resulted in bullying to the point where he needed to switch schools (A lawsuit was also in place) The next school was slightly better but Bobby slowly learned to accept himself as it was not something he could control and not something he would want to in the first place. He was proud of where he came from and never thought he was better or less than anyone else, that wasn’t how he was raised

He’s an only child, his parents thought about adopting (and fostering) but with Bobby they had their hands full and he was just enough for them

His family is very family-oriented so he would never have to feel lonely since they gave him a lot of attention, slightly making him spoiled but he was also around his cousins & spending time with them as well

He’s extremely close to his younger cousin (only by a few months) Femi who he views as his sister. They’ve been through a lot together and are always there for each other so it only makes sense

Most likely an active kid always up to some sort of shenanigans whether it’s by himself or with his group of friends, “why would you do that Bobby?” “Don’t ask why but ask, why not!?”

Definitely suffered some broken bones, concussions, & sprain injuries but would never show signs of pain...guys got a high pain tolerance that’s for sure

Fan of films/series “stand by me” & “the goonies” & “scooby doo” since he feels they relate to his life??

Hospital caterer and loves making those feel better with food that he’s created. If he can’t put a smile on patients face with words then he feels like he can show them with food

Food is an art to him. He went to school for culinary & it’s very important for him to show how much it is to him. He picked up the craft from of course his family, who always used food for numerous of things: to bring people together is one of them

Perfected Jerk haggis, it is now he favorite dish next to desert & breakfast!

I’m struggling to figure out what sign he maybe? He’s very playful which may come off as childish at times, which makes me think of Leo? (Maybe Gemini?) Only because they usually hold onto their childhood as best as they can, very generous, & give their energy to you but I also don’t see him being a fire sign at all? So maybe very little Leo in his chart. I also feel like he might be a bit of an empath? He knows when situations around him don’t feel right, knows how to read the room, and always wants to help others by lighting things up.

Idk but I’m feeling he’s libra sun + Gemini moon + Leo rising? Who knows

Probably lived in a 2 bed flat with his old uni mate. It was small and a bit shit but it was their shit and they made the best of it

Now lives in a stone cottage or farmhouse with MC that was built in the 1900’s & is slightly haunted. He’s decided to call them Duncan??? But he believes they’re a good spirit, maybe even a friendly ghost!? since he got comfortable with the bizarre happenings in the new flat & it doesn’t seem like they want to hurt them

Lottie offered to bring her ouija board next time she visited—Bobby declined

House is mostly neutral based but three of the rooms in the flat are covered in ridiculous patterned walls or furniture much to MC’s distaste but, “what’s yours is mine” right? No. But Gary approves!

Has two dogs: a terrier & a collie since MC wasn’t down for getting a sheep

They do have chickens to raise their own eggs tho!

Definitely the kind of significant other that will ride on the cart when they’re out grocery shopping, will make you breakfast in bed, & will send you memes while he’s at home and you’re out or even when he’s at work and you’re at home, let’s you put his arm to sleep when you’re laying on it in bed (big ass head gang!), definitely chooses the candles from bath & body works that smell like food items (majority of them suck let’s be honest)

Probably smells like cucumber, melons, lemons, and eucalyptus

Has your wedding date in his IG bio & is proud

Annoys Gary & Lottie with his food pics, “oh, Not this shit again! 😡 looks brilliant, but enough!”

Has zoom/FaceTime movie nights with Marisol & MC who stopped feeling like she was third-wheeling months ago

Talks to hope & Noah (in the background) as much as he can. Feels like they’re his inspiration for love, even tho he’s the only one married out of the villa

He values marriage just like his parents do and often has Sunday dinners with them & MC ofc

Probably has relationship guide books and only reads them out of boredom but finds fascinating facts/advice if he pays attention & tries to apply it to his relationship with mc. If it works, it works! & If it doesn’t, you can’t say he didn’t try!

Works long hours but will still come home to cook for MC or brings leftovers from the events he’s catered (most are for the hospital but occasionally he’ll do other events)

Has a separate IG for his work

When WAP dropped, he almost lost his shit. Even tried to get MC to do the challenge with him, he’s pretty bad but MC eventually learned it just for him 😜

Is thrilled that Cardi made the best decision EVER on divorcing offset, “are you thinking of leaving me now?” “... I might.” “BOBBY!” “Haha, I love you!

Absolutely loves Christmas!!! It’s his favorite holiday and he loves giving back to everyone in his life. Usually he’s working overtime for the holidays & it makes him emotional due to the stories he hears & he puts a little extra love in his food

Goes all out for Christmas. Tries to buy/make everyone something. Even if he doesn’t really care for them...he’ll at least send them a x-mas card, if they keep it or burn it it’s entirely up to them—if he knew about it he’d probably be a little sad not gonna lie...he’s a soft king

Once bought Lottie black crocs with spooky pins , “are you joking Bobby?!” He knows she secretly loved them

Uses salt and peppermint in his dark hot cocoa...

Rather make deserts for Christmas than the food, he feels like it’s his duty

King of giving the thumbs up, especially when situations have gone to shit. He’ll still shoot them up with a smile or a grimace

Always inviting someone somewhere. “Bobby, hun. You’re 4-6 hrs away and it’s 1 am.” Hope groaned after listening to his bright idea, thinking something bad happened. “Ah, you could still make it if you tried, lassie.” “I’m gonna hang up now. Good night, bonkers man.”

Needs constant reminding when to get his locs touched up & moisturized

Either has a trampoline or a funhouse jumper in his backyard (maybe both) “we’ve got the space and this is better than a pool, or almost!”

Wants children, a whole footie team! There’s no specific time frame for him, when it happens, it happens

Used to cool & wet temps & loves vacationing in Greenland. Sure the hot weather he experienced in the villa was awesome & something different than what he’s used to but you can’t take the scot out of the man. So he typically sticks to places that are similar in temps, that way he doesn’t have to change his clothing choices much

Loves a good bath. Bubble baths are better than bath bombs to him, PERIOD!

Loves bubbles so much he put too much laundry detergent in the wash (does this on purpose now) and came back home to the dogs and room covered in it. Do you think he cleaned it up before MC came home? No. He decided to have a bubble party in the room with a Caribbean playlist playing in the background

MC definitely posted about it the first time & joined him for a bit, dreading the work that came with cleaning it all up. Now whenever Bobby needs a bubble party, he knows what to do. MC preferred him to have his little bubble party in the tub but 50% of the time he chooses not to listen & they leave him to pout & clean it himself

Likes to hold hands with fingers interlocked. When it’s cold and if you’re both wearing hoodies, he’ll slide his hand inside the arm of your hoodie to help keep you warm

Canon: His version of a snack is spaghetti hoops on toast & can eat that for the rest of his life & be content

If he didn’t end up marrying MC, probably finds his significant other working as a nurse at one of the hospitals he caters to or a volunteer at a old folks home

Never had a serious relationship, very few hookups, was either always placed in the friend zone or there was one person he wanted to be serious with but they rejected him and continued loving someone else who treated them like shit—so he kinda swore off of relationships and just flirted a bunch and kept his love life non-existent

Fav ice cream? Rocky road ice cream with one scoop of cotton candy & one scoop of cookie butter blue

Doesn’t believe in measuring when it comes to culinary. He uses his eyes as his measurement, could be a bad thing, could be a good thing, that’s up to you

If he’s up at night, he’s eating something sweet. A nice glass of single malt scotch whiskey + a splash of coconut milk (🤢) with a slice of angel food cake & he’s out like a light

Absolutely loves shopping for the kitchen, finds immense joy in doing so. If you lose him in a store, one of the places you’ll most likely find him is in the kitchen decor area

Owns a bagpipe & wants to get better at it, even tho he scared the living shit out of his dogs & chickens

Wears his shades quite a bit even tho the weather is hardly sunny and mainly windy & damp

Will hold the door for strangers even if they don’t say thank you

He’s open when it comes to music. Will listen to anything but feels like the music has to be a purpose for something...Everything he does in his day to day life has to feel like a soundtrack to him since in his mind he’s daydreaming about his life being made into a movie. Who isn’t?

He thinks wentworth Miller should play him in a film and that kid from blackish should play him when he was a wee lad, Marcus Scribner

Always keeps a positive attitude because he knows what it feels like to feel low and he doesn’t want anybody else in the world to feel like that so he wants to uplift and if he can try to be someone’s happiness he’ll gladly be that— which isn’t always the right move, he learned

Listens to: Rotimi, Shaggy, Sean Paul, Skip Marley, H.E.R., Jhene Aiko, Jorja Smith, UMI, The Kooks, The Killers, Cold War kids, Milky chance, Blood Orange, The 1975, Vampire Weekend, Bad Suns, BRYSON TILLER, Kilo Kish, & Ella Eyre (although he misses her old music)

Celeb crushes? Cardi B is his mfkin celeb wife okay?! Nobody else comes above her! He also thinks FKA twigs is pretty & super talented, sevdaliza!, Tia & Tamera, Iman, and brandy from the 90s makes him swoon

Anthem = jaden, “Boys and Girls”

[debbielouocean]

ask for nothing and that’s all you’ll get (this rule does not apply to jen harding) (2/2)

PART 1

jen harding/judy hale (also on ao3)

When Jen first started thinking about Judy like that, she could only keep reminding herself- 

“You’re not even gay,” Jen muttered, sinking down further into the bath and deliberately blocking out where she’d just had her hand and who she’d been thinking about. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s your best friend.” 

And that was pretty much the only thing stopping her. She could hide behind the facade of being straight all she wanted, but she really wasn’t that committed to it. What she was committed to was not hurting Judy, who was her best fucking friend. 

The worst part was, she’d promised Judy she would tell her. Judy had looked at her with those puppy dog eyes that barely worked when Henry tried it and she’d folded instantly. She probably would have signed over her car if Judy had asked for it. 

Actually, the worst part was that Jen was positive that Judy wouldn’t bring it up again. She’d wait. Patiently. Until Jen was ready to talk about it. Which meant it would hang over them for weeks, awkward and tense, until it bubbled over and threatened to ruin everything. As if it hadn’t already done so. 

A knock on the bathroom door interrupted her self-deprecation. 

“Jen? We’re gonna be late!” 

“I have never been late to one of the kids’ activities and I’m not gonna start tonight, Judy.” It was true. Hard to be late to things you had no intention of going to. But she was pulling herself up out of the tub anyway and grabbing a towel. 

Against all odds, it was a Charlie activity tonight. Pastor Wayne had somehow managed to convince him that an extracurricular activity would benefit him and he’d joined some sort of robotics club. The dismissive, off-hand tone he’d used when he’d told Jen about the robot fight club meant that she was absolutely gonna be going to every single robot battle and she’d fucking figure out what all of it meant. She’d even read a book about it if she had to. Because she hadn’t seen Charlie this invested in something that wasn’t a video game in years. 

They were going, non negotiable. And it was going to be a nice, normal evening focused on Charlie for fucking once and not on her. She was not going to make tonight about her.

So she waited by the bathroom door, towel wrapped tightly around her, until she could be sure she’d heard Judy leave her bedroom. 

-------

An hour and forty-two minutes later, she found herself squished beside Judy in an Applebee’s booth. Charlie’s team had done well, placing second overall and qualifying them for the next competition. So they’d come to his favorite chain restaurant to celebrate. Jen was proud of him; she couldn’t have imagined Charlie from a year ago being this invested in something for school. 

“Just think about how cool this is gonna look on your college applications,” Judy said, leaning across the table excitedly. She’d been way into the whole thing, screaming and cheering for Charlie the whole time. Charlie had claimed embarrassment but Jen could tell he loved the attention. “Extracurriculars are super important.”

Jen groaned, picking at the cheese fries in the middle of the table that everyone else had deemed too hot to eat. “Can we stop with all the college talk? I’m not emotionally ready for any of that.” 

“Agreed,” Charlie said, overwhelmed by the idea of college. “What’s really important is that I’m pretty sure I can make the toaster shoot fire.” 

“If you so much as look at the toaster funny, you’re gonna be grounded until you do go to college,” Jen said, shutting down that idea before her whole kitchen ended up in flames. 

Their waiter came back a few minutes later with their food, having hardly given them time to finish the appetizer. Henry chatted excitedly about his new favorite show and Charlie didn’t even give him any shit about it being for babies. Even though it totally, fully was. Overall, Jen was pretty sure it had been a very successful family evening. 

And then it was over. And she was tucking Henry in and kissing him goodnight and saying goodnight to Charlie. Reminding him one more time that she was proud of him and that he was making good choices for himself. She could have sworn he even smiled at her before closing his bedroom door. 

Judy was waiting for her in the kitchen, a smile of her own seeming to be permanently plastered on her face. She was sitting at the counter, staring out the window and barely seemed to notice Jen walk into the room. 

“I’m gonna have to start locking up all the appliances in the house that Charlie deems nonvital,” Jen said, eyeing the espresso machine she’d wasted too much money on. 

Judy jumped a bit, clearly having been thinking about something else. But the smile didn’t leave. “Oh, I’m sure he wasn’t being serious. He knows better.” 

“The boy got caught selling drugs. I’m not certain he knows anything,” Jen said with a little huff of laughter. It was weird how easy it felt to make jokes about her son, the former drug dealer. He’d really made a lot of progress in a very short amount of time. 

“Hey, be nice to him,” Judy said, fighting back a laugh of her own. “He’s doing so good.” 

“No, no, you’re right. He’s amazing,” Jen said, pulling herself up onto the bar stool beside her. Judy leaned over, dropping her head onto Jen’s shoulder. 

“Thank you for letting me come,” she said softly, her hand landing on Jen’s thigh. Jen let her eyes close, briefly letting herself pretend that everything was wonderful and fine and that Judy’s hand on her thigh didn’t cloud any of her thoughts. 

“The boys would have killed you if you hadn’t,” Jen said, eyes still closed. She tilted her own head to the side, letting herself bury her face in Judy’s hair. Which smelled like a whole fucking orange. “And then they would have killed me for not making you come.” 

“You will literally never have to make me come to anything,” Judy said. Her hand rubbed little circles on Jen’s leg, somehow both really nice and absolute torture. “You guys are like my family, you know. I love being a part of this.” 

Jen sucked in a deep breath, inhaling even more citrus. Judy was going to be the fucking death of her, she was certain of it. “You are family, Jude. There’s nothing ‘like’ about it.” 

Opening her eyes, she watched Judy discreetly trying to wipe her eyes. 

“Are you crying?” Jen asked in disbelief. They’d almost definitely been over this before. Like ten times at this point. But Jen still wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, squeezing her tight. “God, you’re such a sap.” 

Judy laughed, still a little teary. “You love it, don’t even try to deny it.” 

She was right. Jen couldn’t help but smile at the completely over the top emotions Judy had no problem expressing on a near constant basis. 

“I must be going soft,” Jen said, “I’m just gonna have to take a golf club to another car to balance things out again.” 

“I won’t take the blame for it this time.” 

“Which is unfair because this time it would actually be your fault.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments, comfortable and content. Jen’s arm around Judy’s shoulders and Judy’s hand on her thigh. Jen couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. And she was only a little bit disgusted with herself. 

Only a little bit disgusted with myself, Jen thought, immediately regretting even thinking that when she was hit with immense disgust at herself for the way she was brushing her fingers up Judy’s bare arm. Because there was no fucking way that would be allowed if Judy knew what she’d done with those same fingers in the bathtub that morning while thinking about her. 

Jen was sure Judy felt her freeze up. Because the hand that had been drawing circles on her leg froze, too. 

“I’m feeling pretty tired-” 

“What the hell has been going on with you?” Judy interrupted, pulling out of Jen’s arms and looking her in the eyes. Jen flinched back, drawing her hands up to her own chest. And then immediately dropping them because Jen Harding did not do vulnerable. “One minute you’re fine and we’re good and then it’s like the very next second…” 

Judy trailed off, waving her hands a bit like that clarified things. Not that Jen needed anything clarified. She knew exactly what Judy was talking about. And she didn’t even look mad about it. Just… sad. 

“Did I… do something?” Judy asked when Jen didn’t respond, her voice smaller than Jen had heard it in a while. 

Jen’s eyes went wide, quick to reach out and lay both of her hands back on Judy’s shoulders. 

“No, no, honey. I promise, it’s not…” Jen sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to get through this god forsaken conversation. She opened them again to make sure Judy was paying attention and knew she was serious. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Judy frowned, but nodded anyway. Jen could practically see the wheels turning in her head, doing the same fucking thing that Jen always did, too. Blaming herself and forcing things to fit together to tell that story regardless of how hard you had to push to make it happen. 

And she knew she had to tell her. Because this wasn’t a Judy problem. It was a Jen problem. And it wasn’t fair of her to make Judy think otherwise. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” poured out of her mouth way faster than her brain could keep up. Definitely wasn’t how she’d intended to phrase that one. “I.. I am in love with you. Pretty positive about it.” 

“Jen-” 

“No, just listen for a minute, Jude,” Jen said, trying to be gentle about it and trying her damn hardest not to cry. Because she wasn’t soft. “I know it’s a pretty shit excuse for acting like a cunt but I promise you, I am handling it. Just give me like, two weeks to readjust and we can forget about the whole thing-”

“You’re in love with me?” Judy said, her voice going all soft again. Jen could see the tears starting to well up in her eyes and was not feeling another round of ‘Judy cries and Jen awkwardly holds her while thinking about how nice her hair smells and then feeling guilty about it’. 

“I’m handing it. You don’t even really need to worry about it.” Jen wished she felt as confident about that as she hoped she sounded, because ‘handling it’ had not been going well so far. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Judy said, the softness that had been present before quickly replaced with confusion. She didn’t pull away from Jen, though, who still had her hands on her shoulders. “I’m supposed to just forget that you’re in love with me?” 

If Jen hadn’t been sure that she’d fucked everything up before, she certainly was now. Because Judy was right. Your best friend being in love with you wasn’t really something you just forgot about. 

“Well how else do you propose we handle this situation, then, Judy?” Jen knew she was almost yelling. She knew she was getting angry, but her self control was slipping. And she was more than a little defensive. “What’s the other option?” 

“You let me fucking love you, Jen!” Judy yelled right back, letting the tears fall as she said it. 

Jen froze again, speechless for the hundredth time since she’d met Judy. Who kept managing to surprise her, somehow. All she could think to do was to stand up, tug Judy closer and press her as tightly as she could against her chest. So she did. 

“You really want that?” Jen asked, disbelief coloring her voice. “You know what I’m like, Judy. I’m not an easy person to be with.” 

“And you think I am?” Judy asked, still a bit biting. Like she wasn’t going to let her off that easily. Judy was always the first person to defend Jen, even from herself. “Jen, I know you. You’re all intense and beautiful and magnificent. I don’t give a shit about easy.” 

“I am maybe a little bit intense,” Jen agreed, threading her fingers through Judy’s hair. She heard her sigh; a tiny sound of relief. Like Judy had been waiting for this conversation to happen, too. Like she’d wanted this, somehow. 

“And beautiful and magnificent,” she said. Jen could feel Judy’s fingers digging into her waist, holding her close. “You’re like the sun, Jen. You’re just… everything.” 

Jen laughed despite herself, pulling away from Judy for a moment, only to reach up and cup her cheeks. She brushed her thumb over the tear tracks that were barely visible in the dim light of the kitchen. “I feel like I’m always asking you for more, Judy.” 

“I like it when you ask me for things,” Judy said. She leaned into Jen’s hand, a soft smile on her face. Jen felt her lips brush against her palm, just barely ghosting over her skin. She was hit with desire; something she’d been pushing down for weeks now and felt like she was finally allowed to feel. 

“You never ask me for anything.” 

“I usually don’t have to ask. That’s one of your biggest secrets, Jen Harding. You’re generous. You gave me so fucking much and I’ve never once had to ask for any it.” Judy gestured around them with her hand. “You gave me your whole family, Jen. How could I ever possibly ask for anything else?” 

Jen knew she was crying. She knew it. But it didn’t really hit home until she felt Judy mirror her own movements, reaching up to wipe her tears away. 

“You could ask me for anything and I’d figure out a way to give it to you,” Jen said, knowing it was true. Judy could ask her for the fucking moon and Jen would invest in Space X. She sniffled a bit, trying to pull herself back together before things got really embarrassing. She was already soft, she didn’t need to be weepy, too. 

Judy was still looking at her like she was her whole world. And Jen was so certain that Judy had always looked at her like that. God, Jen thought, how the hell was I so self-absorbed that I didn’t see that before? 

“So,” Jen said, breaking the silence they’d fallen into, “what, uh, what now?” 

She watched Judy ponder the question for a moment, wishing she could hear her thoughts. Judy bit her lower lip, looking every bit like Jen’s wildest dreams. Finally, after what seemed like ages, something seemed to click in Judy’s mind and she smirked at Jen. 

“I get to ask you for something,” Judy declared, putting her hands on Jen’s hips. Jen’s brow furrowed in confusion, unsure where she was going with this. Judy leaned in closer, pushing up from the barstool to stand eye level with Jen. “Can I kiss you?” 

Jen let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of relief before she let herself fall forward and close the distance between them. And just like all the rest of her, Judy’s lips were so fucking soft. She felt bold, all of a sudden, confidence kicking back in now that she’d gotten confirmation that she wasn’t alone in her feelings. When Judy hummed into the kiss, Jen decided that soft might be nice, but she could do better. She parted her lips, pulling Judy in closer and letting her tongue trace across her lower lip. Judy quickly gave in, letting Jen take over and just falling into her. 

Because Judy was right. Jen really, really was a giver. And Judy wouldn’t even have to ask.