#anyway its fun to have fun with a game like this without my ex running the show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ppersonna · 3 years

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swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily.

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.

“You call Jimin a prince?”

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.

He just matched with YOU.

His best friend.

His secret, lifelong crush.

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff.

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.

“It’s nothing!”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off.

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.

“What’s up?” He asks curiously.

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.

“And I promise to never run away from you again.”

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.

“Still dreaming?”

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.

“I plan to find out everything.”

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

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evienyx · 3 years

Text

DSMP Citizens POV- Part 1

I've seen a lot of the memes going around, but I'm not funny enough to write that, so here's my addition to the trend :p

This is part one, because I had a lot of fun with this and want to do it more.

- - -

DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

Sometimes, it was odd for the residents of the Dream SMP to be reminded of the fact that the constant state of chaos that their server was in was not, in fact, reflective of every server.

"Why did we move here?" One woman in Snowchester whispers to another as the sirens go off for yet another nuke test and they duck down into their bunker.

The other shrugs. She doesn't have an answer. No one does.

Things started out all right, the people supposed. There weren't any wars, at least. Some of those who lived on the server before the Revolution could remember back far enough to tell you about the first true conflict, between Dream, the creator of their home, and TommyInnit, a sixteen-year-old who could yell shockingly loud, even for a teenager. Dream fought against Tommy and Tubbo (yet another teenager), and it seemed to all be in good fun.

Some will tell you now, though, that the signs of tension were already there, and when Wilbur Soot joined, those tensions only escalated.

One moment, things on the server were normal, the next, there was a Revolution.

"Did anyone else hear Dream shouting about 'white flags' this morning?" One person would ask their friends, and receive nods in return. "Anyone know what it's about?"

"A Revolution," one would respond. "Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are starting a new country."

"Oh," the first would hum. "How long until they get completely crushed?"

"Eh, I give 'em a week."

It was only a week, but it did not end the way anyone thought it would. Instead, L'Manburg gained its independence after TommyInnit gave up his discs once he lost a duel with Dream.

"Is the L'Manburg cabinet missing someone?"

"No, I don't think so. Anyway, did you hear that Dream just declared that Eret is to be crowned king?"

"...Can he do that?"

"He's Dream. He can do whatever he wants."

After the Revolution, when the server finally had more than one ruling faction, more than one place to live, things seemed to pick up a bit. President Soot, with Vice President Innit (VP Tommy, the people called him), ruled over L'Manburg, and called it a place of freedom. When word spread to other servers, people came to see for themselves.

And often, they stayed.

It was peaceful, for a while.

"President Soot announced he's holding an election," one man said to his wife one day.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Said it was for democracy." The man snorted. "He and Innit are the only party running, though. Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me."

"Darling, I know you're still salty about losing the war, but there's no reason to talk bad about a child," his wife said.

The man wrinkled his nose. "Still."

It was peaceful during the campaign.

For a while.

Then, though, Quackity announced that he was running for president, with GeorgeNotFound, best friend of Dream himself, as his running mate.

"This feels like a sitcom," one girl says as she watches the debate reruns with her friends.

"At least it's entertaining," her friend replies, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

And, for the people of the Dream SMP, from both L'Manburg and the Greater SMP, it was entertaining.

Until the election results came in, Schlatt was declared the winner, and President Soot and VP Tommy were banished.

"Dude, dude!" One teen says to their friends, running up to meet them on the Prime Path.

"What is it?"

"I just saw Technoblade join the server!"

The arrival of the Blood God shifted something in the people of the Dream SMP. When he joined Pogtopia, the rebellion being led by the two ex-leaders of the country, the people felt something settle within themselves.

All of a sudden, choosing sides wasn't as simple as where you live.

It was what you care about.

As the son of the ex-president burned down the old flag, the people of the Dream SMP, of (L')Manburg and of the Greater SMP, realized suddenly that they had to make a choice.

Without even wanting to, without doing anything to deserve it, they would have to fight.

Some people went to Pogtopia, some stayed in Manburg, some in the Greater SMP. Those in the latter two stayed where they were because they wanted to stay out of it.

It didn't change anything, in the end.

In Manburg, they watched their president (Emperor) fall further and further into alcohol, yelling at his cabinet and talking of expanding into territory that they had no right to.

In the Greater SMP, murmurs of King Eret's attempts to assist the Pogtopia rebels filled the alleyways.

In Pogtopia, people sat and watched the decline of the man that they had all once believed in. As Wilbur Soot slowly devolved until he was no longer recognizable as the man who had once led people to freedom, the residents of Pogtopia ate potatoes farmed by a man famous for his bloodlust and pretended that they were sleeping somewhere warm.

The day of the Manburg Festival, though, things felt better. Other than ex-president Soot and ex-VP Tommy (Wilbur and Tommy, the two insisted. No one listened), everyone, even the rebels in Pogtopia, were invited to attend. The people wandered through the stalls playing games, watching as Soot's son attempted (in vain) to drown Technoblade, buying food, and chatting with people from other factions, friends and family that they hadn't spoken to in weeks.

When the time came for the speeches, before the true festivities were set to begin, everyone was feeling good about the day. People congratulated Secretary Tubbo for a successful event, and offered him small words of encouragement for his speech coming up. The teenager would grin at all who spoke to him, and looked (rightfully) proud of how well he organized and decorated the festival.

Secretary Tubbo gave his speech, and people clapped, and then fell silent as President (Emperor) Schlatt laughed, asked for his Vice-President's assistance, and encased the teenager in a cage of concrete.

And then he called Technoblade to the stage.

And then, in front of the people of the Dream SMP, a teenager was executed in a spray of color that shot toward the sky.

Fireworks rained down on the people in the stands, then, and, regardless of where they were from, the people of the Dream SMP ran.

The Pogtopia ranks grew that day, and a nineteen-year-old who claimed to be a doctor without showing any credentials forced four other people to help her heal VP Tommy after he fought Technoblade in a pit, egged on by a man who once might have called himself his brother.

"How is this kid not dead yet?" One of the helpers asked, looking at the unconscious teenager's face.

"Pure spite?"

The first hummed. "Sounds about right."

One day, a bit after the festival, the people of Pogtopia woke to find Vice President Quackity walking through the ravine as if he owned the place.

One resident was noted to rub his eyes, blink three times, and then say, "It's too early for this shit," before heading back to bed.

A surprising number of people followed his lead.

Finally, the day of November 16th came, when Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit vowed to take their country back.

"I heard President Soot is planning to blow up L'Manburg," one Pogtopian woman mentioned to her friend as they suited up and prepared to fight, as they had signed up to be part of the forces.

"That's stupid," her friend replied.

"Bet you ten diamonds he blows something up."

"Fine."

As the country of L'Manburg blew sky-high, one woman was seen following another, screaming that she wanted her diamonds.

When Pogtopia won the war, the forces from both sides sat outside of the remains of the van as President Soot, VP Tommy, Secretary Tubbo, Dream, Technoblade, and many more, all piled inside to confront Emperor Schlatt.

They emerged fifteen minutes later, and Dream announced to the crowd that Schlatt was dead.

There was no time for the news to sink in, as they played hot potato with the presidency, going from VP Tommy to Wilbur Soot to Secretary Tubbo.

"President Soot is leaving, do you see that?"

"Probably going to the river to celebrate the win, if you know what I mean."

"Literally shut up. Never speak again. I hate you."

As the newly-inaugurated President Tubbo finished his speech, the people felt a wave of relief wash over them. Maybe the server could finally be peaceful once more.

Then, there was the tell-tale hiss of explosives under their feet, and the people ran as the ground beneath them fell away.

Stories of what happened next are conflicting, to say the least.

Words of President Soot dying in the explosion, of him turning the blade on himself, of another man killing him.

"He had wings," people who saw the man said. "Blonde hair, a green hat and robes. He stabbed Soot with the guy's own sword."

Technoblade apparently gave an incredible speech, and anyone who was there to witness it lamented that they hadn't recorded it.

Then, two Withers flew through the sky, and blood ran down the newly-exposed stones, and people who had never experienced death on the server before finally knew what it was like to die.

Afterward, though, when the anarchist had fled and the ex-President lay dead, President Tubbo, with VP Tommy by his side, stood and addressed the people, and made promises of a brighter future, and the hope and determination in his eyes was enough for the people to hope that maybe he was right.

("Whoa, cool wings, dude," a resident of L'Manburg said to their newest neighbor, a man in green with wings, burned across all the feathers, sprouting from his back. "Wait, what happened to them?"

"Oh, I was protecting my son from the explosion," the new resident replied.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Is your son all right at least?"

"No, he died just a few minutes afterward. His last life, too." The man sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, he probably deserved it."

A beat. "What did he do?"

"Well, you may have heard of him. Wilbur Soot? He was the president here before Schlatt, I believe."

"...Holy shit, you're the bird man that killed President Soot!"

"Yeah, mate, that's me."

"...He was your son?"

"...Yeah."

"...What the fuck is wrong with your family?")

#dsmp citizen pov #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp citizen memes #these memes have been the funniest thing stg #theyre bringing some good laughs to me at the least #anyway this one was a little angsty and a little long-winded #i wanna do one soon that is more direct #like from the pov of one particular person #when i have time i will bc this was really fun #mcyt #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dsmp citizens #tubbo #dream

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soobmint · 3 years

Text

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest.

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together.

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood.

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck.

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure.

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face.

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back.

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

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thedeadhandofseldon · 3 years

Text

The Anti-Mercer Effect

On the Accessibility of D&D, Why Unprepared Casters is so Fun, and Why Haley Whipjack is possibly the greatest DM of our generation.

(Apologies to my mutuals who aren’t in this fandom for the length of this, but as you all know I have never in my life shut up about anything so… we’ll call it even for the number of posts about Destiel I see every day.

To fellow UC fans - I haven’t listened to arc 4 yet, I started drafting this in early August, and I promise I will write a nice post about how great Gus the Bard is once I get the chance to listen to more of his DMing).

Structure - Or, “This is not the finale, there will be more podding cast”

So, first of all, let’s just talk about how Unprepared Casters works. Because it’s kind of unusual! Most of the other big-name D&D podcasts favor this long, grand arcs; UC has about 10 hours of podcast per each arc. And that’s a major strength in a lot of ways: it makes it really accessible to new listeners, because you can just start with the current arc and understand what’s going on!

And by starting new arcs every six or seven episodes, they can explore lots of ways to play D&D! Classic dungeon delve arc! Heist arc! Epic heroes save the world arc! Sportsball arc! They can touch on all sorts of things!

And while I’m talking about that: Dragons in Dungeons, the first arc, makes it incredibly accessible as a show - because it lets the unfamiliar listener get a sense of what D&D actually is. (It’s about telling stories and making your friends feel heroic and laugh and cry, for the record). If I had to pick a way to introduce someone to the game without actually playing it with them, that arc would definitely be it.

And I’d be remise not to note one very important thing: Haley Whipjack and Gus the Bard are just very funny, very charismatic people. Look. Episode 0s tend to be about 50%(?) those two just talking to each other about their own podcast. It shouldn’t work. And yet it DOES, its one of my favorite parts, because Haley and Gus are just cool.

And a side note that doesn’t fit anywhere else: I throw my soul at him! I throw a scone at him - that’s it, that’s the vibe. The whole podcast alternates between laughing with your friends and brooding alone in a dark tavern corner - but the laughs never forced and the dark corner is never too dark for too long.

Whipjack the Great - Or, the DM is Also a Player!

I think Haley Whipjack is one of the greatest Dungeon Masters alive. The plots and characters! The mechanical shenanigans! The descriptions!

Actually, let’s start there: with the descriptions. (Both Haley and Gus do this really fucking well). As we know, Episode 0 of each arc sees the DM reading a description - of a small town, or the Up North, or the recent history of a great party. And Haley always strikes this tricky balance - one I think a lot of us who DM struggle with - between giving too much description and worldbuilding, and not telling us anything at all. She describes people and events in just enough detail to imagine them, but never so much they seem static and unreal - just clear enough to envision, but with enough vagueness left to let your imagination begin to run wild.

While I’m thinking about arc 3’s party, let’s talk about a really bold move she made in that arc: letting the players have ongoing control of their history. Loser Lars! She didn’t try to spell out every detail of this high-level party’s history, or restrict their past to only what she decided to allow - she gave them the broad outlines, and let them embellish it. And that made for a much more alive story than any attempt to create it by herself would have - but I think it takes a lot of courage to let your players have that agency. Most Dungeon Masters (myself included) tend to struggle with being control freaks.

And the plots! Yeah, arc one is built of classic tropes - but she actually uses them, she doesn’t get caught up in subverting everything or laughing at the cliches. And it’s fun! In arc 3, there really isn’t a straight line for the players to follow, either - which makes the game much more interesting and much trickier to run. And her NPCs are fantastic and I will talk about them in the next section.

Above all, though, I think what is really impressive is how Haley balances mechanics, and rules as written, with the narrative and rule of cool - and puts both rules and story in the service of playing a fun game. And the secret to that? She’s the DM, but the DM is a player, and the DM is clearly having fun. Hope Lovejoy mechanically shouldn’t get that spellslot back, but she does, and it’s fun. The changeling merchant in Thymore doesn’t really make some Grand Artistic Narrative better, but wow is it fun. And she never tries to force it one way or the other - the story might be more dramatic if Annie didn’t manage to banish the demon from the vault, but it’s a lot cooler and a lot more fun for the players if Annie gets to be a badass instead - and the rules and the dice say that Annie managed it.

Settings feel like places, NPCs feel like people, and the narrative plot feels like a real villainous plot.

Anyway. I could go on about the various ways in which Whipjack is awesome for quite a while - she’s right, first place in D&D is when your friends laugh and super first place is when they cry - but I’m going to stop here and just. Make another post about it some other time. For now, for the record I hold her opinions about the game in higher esteem than I do several official sourcebooks; that is all.

Characters - Or, Bombyx Mori Is Not an Asshole, And That Matters

Okay, I said I would talk about characters! And I will!

Just a general place to start: the party! All of the first three parties are interesting to me, because they all care about each other. Not even necessarily in a Found Family Trope sort of way, though often that too. But they generally aren’t assholes to each other. The players create characters that actually work together, that are interesting; even when there’s internal divisions like SK-73 v. Sir Mr. Person, they aren’t just unpleasant and antagonistic all the time. Listening to the podcast, we’re “with” these people for a couple hours - and it isn’t unpleasant. That matters a lot. (To take a counter-example: I love Critical Role, but the episode when Vox Machina pranked Scanlan after he died and was resurrected wasn’t fun to listen to, it was just uncomfortable and angering and vaguely cruel).

All of the PCs are amazing, and the players in each arc did a great job. If you disagree with me about that, well, you have the right to be incorrect and I am sorry for your loss. Annie Wintersummer, for one example: tragic and sad and I want to give her a hug, but also Fuck Yeah Wintersummer, and also her familiar Charles the Owl is the cutest and funniest and I love him. And we understand what’s going on with Annie, she isn’t some infinite pool of hidden depths because this arc is 7 episodes and we don’t have time for that, but she also has enough complexity to be interesting. Same with Fey Moss: yeah, a lot of her is a silly pun about fame that carries into how she behaves, but a lot of how she behaves is also down to some good classic half-elven angst about parenthood and wanting to be known and seen and important. (Side note: if your half-elf character doesn’t have angst, well, that’s impressive and also I don’t think I believe you).

There are multiple lesbian cat-people in a 4-person party and they both have requited romantic interests who aren’t each other. This is the future liberals want and I am glad for it.

Sir Mister Person, the human fighter! Thavius, the edge lord! Even when a character is “simple,” they’re interesting, because of how they’re played as people and not action-figures. And that matters a lot.

In the same way: the NPCs. There really aren’t a lot of them! And some of them come from Patreon submissions, so uh good work gang, you’re part of the awesomeness and I’m proud of you! The point being, the NPCs work because enough of them are interesting to matter. It’s not just a servant who opens Count Michael’s door, it’s a character with a name (Oleandra!) and a personality and history. They’re interesting. Penny Lovejoy didn’t need to be interesting, the merchant outside the Laughing Mausoleum didn’t need to be interesting, but they ARE! And Haley and Gus EXCEL at making the NPCs matter, not just to the story but to us as viewers. I agree with Sir Mister Person, actually, I would die for the princesses of the kingdom. I actually care about Gem Lovejoy of all people - that wouldn’t happen in an ordinary campaign! That’s the thing that makes Unprepared Casters spectacular - and, frankly, it’s especially impressive because D&D does not tend to be good at making a lot of interesting compared to a lot of other sorts of stories.

And, just as an exemplar of all this: Bombyx Mori. Immortal, reincarnating(?), and described as the incarnation of the player’s ADHD. I expected to hate Bombyx, because as the mom friend both in and out of my friend-group’s campaigns, the chaos-causer is always exhausting to me. And yeah, Bombyx causes problems on purpose! But! She is not an asshole.

And that’s important. Bombyx goes and sits with the queen and comforts her. Bombyx gives Annie emotional support. Bombyx isn’t just a vehicle to jerk around the DM and other players; Bombyx really is a character we can care about. To compare with another case - in the first couple episodes of The Adventure Zone, the PCs are just dicks. Funny, but dicks. Bombyx holds out an arm “covered in larva” to shake with a count, and robs him of magical items, but she also cares about her friends and other people! She uses a powerful magical gem to save her fertilizer guy from death! Yeah, Bombyx is ridiculous, but she’s not just an asshole the party has to keep around for plot reasons; you can see why her party would keep her around. And one layer of meta up, she’s the perfect example of how to make a chaotic character like that while still being fun for everyone you’re playing with, which is often not the case. And I love her.

The Anti-Mercer Effect - Or, “I think we proved it can be fun, you can have a good time with your friends. And it doesn’t have to be scary, you can just work with what you know”

The Mercer Effect basically constitutes this: Matthew Mercer, Dungeon Master of Critical Role, is incredible (as are all of his players). They’re all professional story-tellers in a way, remember, and so Critical Role treats D&D like a narrative art-form, and it’s inspiring. Seeing that on Critical Role sets impossible standards - and people go into their own home games imagining that their campaigns will be like Critical Role, and the burden of that expectation tends to fall disproportionately on the DM. And the end result, I think, of the Mercer Effect is that we get discouraged or intimidated, because our game isn’t “as good as” theirs. (And I should note - Matt certainly doesn’t want that to be our reaction).

So the Anti-Mercer Effect is two things: it’s D&D treated like a game, and it’s inspiring but not intimidating. And Unprepared Casters manages both of those really freaking well. Because they play it like a game! A UC arc looks just like a good campaign in anyone’s home game. They have the vibes of 20-somethings and college students playing D&D for fun because that’s who they are (as a 20-something college student who plays a lot of D&D, watching it felt like watching my friends play an especially good campaign). They’re trying to tell a good story, sure, and they always do. But first and foremost, they’re trying to have fun, and it shows, and I love the UC cast for it.

And that’s the other half of it: it’s inspiring! It’s approachable; you can see that Haley and Gus put plenty of work into preparing the game but it also doesn’t make you feel like you need hundreds of pages of worldbuilding to run a game. Sometimes a cleric makes Haley cry and she gives them back a spell-slot from their deity! That’s fantastic! It’s just inspiring - listening to this over the summer, when my last campaign had fallen apart under the strain of graduation, is why I decided to plan and run my new one!

That quote from Haley Whipjack that I used as the title for this section? That’s the whole core of this idea, and really, I think, the core of the podcast.

The Mercer Effect is when you go “that’s really cool, I could never do that.” But Unprepared Casters makes you look at D&D and go “wow, that looks really fun. I bet I can do that!” And I love the show for it.

And I bet a lot of you do too.

#unprepared casters #bombyx mori #haley whipjack #long post #this is really rough but I don't have time to keep working on it and it's already a month later than intended

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Blind mistake

Rowaelin month - day 8

So, this fic was fighting me at the beginning. as I started, deleted and restarted a million times.

Then slowly the idea came and here it is. What I was not expecting was to write a A Little Braver AU.

Aelin and Rowan meet under different circumstances and are two different people from thee actual story. Aelin is still the captain at east station and Rowan still the airforce captain.

Yes, this is a happier fic but as Aelin said in KoA... she loved Rowan because it was him, the man who had known pain as deep as hers.

IN order to enjoy this fic you do not need to have read ALB. A part from Pete popping up for a brief second at the end, this is a complete stand alone story and no knowledge of ALB is needed.

Rowan sighed. His love life sucked so much that he ended up using a dating app. Since Lyria dumped him a year before he had been struggling to go back in the game. He had been on a few dates but so far none of the women he met had sparked his curiosity. Far too bland and with almost no personality or far too bothered by looks. Some of them had been downright stupid and he had been a gentleman and played along when all he wanted to do was run away screaming. The last nightmare had been a woman called Remelle who Lorcan had recommended to him. He had to feign food poisoning and pay the chef to let him escape from the back of the restaurant to flee the monster. He had paid the bill sneakily, and once home he had insulted Lorcan and his poor taste in women.

Now he was again in a restaurant, ready for probably another fiasco. He and the woman had chatted a bit and she had seemed interesting so he had dared to ask her out and she had accepted. On the paper it was all good. In reality he was getting ready for another crazy escape. Maybe he should just give up and live alone and become a grumpy old man.

He had a kingsflame on the table near him, their code to recognise each other at the restaurant. The fact that they knew very little about each other made him nervous. It was a recipe for disaster. He knew she was a personal shopper and that she liked movies and music. He was really dreading the encounter now, and started to realise that perhaps it had been a mistake. She could have lied.

Until he raised his head and he noticed the woman who had just entered the restaurant. He then spotted the flower pinned on her green dress as they had agreed. Gods, the woman was way too hot for him. There was a catch somewhere. His heart raced when realisation dawned on her face and she waved and started to walk to him. The smile. Damn, the smile could stop a man’s heart. The woman walking toward him was a goddess. He was expecting her to turn away for another table until she sat down in front of him at his table. Rowan was speechless.

“Sorry, I am late. Accident on the ring road. I stopped to give a hand to west station.” She used her hand to brush off the smudge of grease he had only just noticed she had.

“You stopped?”

“Yes,” she looked at him with a strange light in her eyes “I am a firefighter. I am the captain at east station.”

Rowan blinked twice. Shit. She was the wrong woman. She was not here for him. Of course. It was too good to be true. She had sat at the wrong table and a part of him was sad.

“I am Aelin.” she said and he knew that it had dawned on her as well that he was not her date “You are not Chaol.”

Rowan shook his head “I am Rowan.”

“Holy shit. I saw the kingsflame. The restaurant. And you smiled at me when I came in. I just assumed...” He did not want her to go.

“Ach, I was having second thoughts anyway.” He shrugged.

In that moment the waiter came and they were hesitant for a moment then Aelin grabbed the menu and started ordering, surprising him. Rowan got some wine for both and they placed as well their order.

“Our dates are late anyway. Maybe stuck in the horrendous traffic out there.”

“You will not hear me complain.” Said Rowan with a smile “so, you stopped and helped?”

Aelin nodded, sipping a bit of her wine “I couldn’t resist it. West station was there but there were so many cars involved that I had to something. The traffic wasn’t moving anyway.”

Rowan could not believe the woman in front of him. Not only she was a goddess. She had even stopped to help her colleagues save people from a car crash on her way to a date. Where had she been all his life?

The waiter came with their order and smiled at the expression of joy when Aelin looked at the amount of food in front of her. Another point for her. She had an appetite. He had no need of another date ordering a boring salad. He was a healthy eater but loved a woman with an appetite, especially because he loved cooking.

“So Rowan, what do you do?” She asked him while tackling the gigantic prawn on her seafood tagliatelle.

“I am an airforce pilot. I am a captain.”

Her face lit up “as in the uniform and all? And the awesome planes?”

Rowan nodded.

Aelin was about to take another sip of her wine when two figures stopped at their table. A brown-haired man and a blonde woman. Both had a kingsflames pinned on their dresses.

“Excuse me but you are with my date.” Said the stranger.

Rowan looked up from his risotto “finders keepers.”

“And he is my date.” Said the woman in a shrill voice.

“What he said.” Added Aelin while eating another prawn.

“We got stuck in traffic. There is a massive road accident on the ring road.” Chaol complained, not letting it go.

“Yeah I know. I stopped to help and I still made it here before you.”

“So what does this mean?” Asked Chaol.

Aelin stared at Rowan. It was a no brainer. Chaol was cute but Rowan was sex on two legs. Between the silver hair and the green eyes he ticked all of the boxes. And he was a pilot. Chaol was an accountant.

“You two can go on a date together.” She suggested and hoped they took the hint.

“That is rude.”

“Oh shoot,” said Aelin covering her mouth in fake surprise “I must have left the fucks I have to give in my bunker gear.”

Chaol looked at her aghast. The blonde woman turned on her heels and left.

“You missed an opportunity.” He added before he left as well.

As soon as he left Rowan burst into laughter and she joined him “no fucks to give…” he said trying to catch his breath “I have to steal this when my CO drives me nuts.”

“Ansel, one of my firefighters, she taught me that.”

“It’s fucking perfect.”

And both resumed their dinner without the awkwardness of a blind date. No stupid questions like how many siblings do you have or what is your favourite colour. No, with Rowan there had been a connection from the start and the joke had been the final proof.

“Most guys would have left running at my joke. I have a big and foul mouth. Not very lady-like.” She apologised. “I work in a male dominated place. Apart from Ansel and my two paramedics, I am surrounded by guys and well, they are not easily scared.”

Rowan chuckled “I am in the military. My CO uses fuck you as a term of endearment and one of my lieutenants has the record for the most innuendos in a sentence.”

“How many?” Asked Aelin curios.

“Ten.”

“No friggin’ way.”

Rowan nodded solemnly. Then looked at her and he was glad she sat at his table mistaking him for another man. They had known each other only for twenty minutes but he was dumbstruck by the woman.

She was fierce, intelligent and with a wicked sense of humour.

The meal had been perfect. Aelin had polished every single plate in front of her and also ordered dessert. And when she offered to pay for half the bill he had smiled. He had plenty of dates where the woman didn’t even offer. She took it for granted that he, being the man, was the one paying. He had no issues with that, he was happy to pay, but the fact that Aelin offered made him realise that she was different.

They left the restaurant and he gasped when he saw a red pickup reading Terrasen fire department on its livery, parked just outside the restaurant.

“Way to scare the patrons away.” He joked.

“Sorry. Yesterday I took a lift to work from a colleague and I forgot for a moment that I had a set the date for tonight after my shift. So I grabbed my work pickup to get here. I need to go back to the firehouse and return it.”

“I’ll follow, you drop off the pickup and then I drive you home.”

“I can take a cab, you don’t have to come all the way to the station and back.”

“Humour me,” he said giving her a beautiful smile and she accepted.

Ten minutes later they were at east station and she parked the pickup in its corner at the side and out of the way.

She saw Rowan getting off the car.

“Welcome to east station.” She said extending her arms. She pushed a button and the rolling doors slid up and two big trucks appeared in front of him. He had always wanted to see one up close.

“Cap,” said a man at her back “what are you doing here? I thought you were on a date?” He smiled “that bad? I told you accountants were a bad idea.”

Aelin laughed “looks like I got myself an airforce pilot instead.” She winked at him and Rowan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll tell you next shift, Pete. I just brought back the pickup before Dorian kills me.”

She waved at her relief captain and followed Rowan in his car and told him her address.

While he drove she studied him. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a shirt and a black leather jacket. She should have guessed he was military. Aedion had the same posture and he was ex-army.

“Which house?” Asked Rowan, waking her up from her thoughts.

“The one with the blue door.”

He parked and walked with her up to the door “I had so much fun tonight,” she said to him, not wanting him to leave her.

“I am so glad that you sat at the wrong table. This was the best blind date ever.” He looked at her and wanted to kiss her so badly but they had just met and he did not want to pass a a pig.

She moved a step toward him “I am glad too.” And her lips brushed his cheek in a kiss “perhaps we could go on a proper date. One where we are actually meant to meet each other.”

Rowan sighed relieved “It would make me very happy.”

Aelin rummaged in her bag until she found a pen then grabbed his wrist and pulled up his cuff a bit and wrote down two numbers.

“The first one is my personal mobile number. The second one is the direct number to my office. I am known to leave my mobile in my bunker gear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know a date and if I am not free we can find a better one. Us firefighters have crazy long shifts so I need to be off.”

He took her pen and her wrist and wrote his number “then you text me. A day that you are off shift. I work regular hours. This makes more sense.”

He took a step down from the few step and she hated the idea of him leaving.

“Goodnight, Rowan.” She opened the door and looked at him one last time.

Rowan waited for her to disappear behind the door and then went back to his car and was grateful for the best blind mistake of his life.

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #fluff

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Seasons of PD: Season 1: Lonnie Rodiger (A Jay Halstead + Halstead! Sister Imagine)

Any quotes from season one that I put in here, credit obviously goes to the writers of PD. For the sake of my story, Ben Corson was killed when he was 11 so you would've been 10.

Trigger warning for mentions of rape and murder.

Jay's age: 27

Your age: 13

Jay walked up the steps of the front porch of his childhood home. With how crazy gangs have become the past few weeks, it was hard for him to get a good night's sleep without his phone going off, let alone keep track of what day it was. So, when he walked into the district this morning and learned that it was the day of what would've been Ben Corson's fourteenth birthday, he was crushed. He'd learned how to deal with the pain because it wasn't his best friend, it was the little brother of his ex-girlfriend. But, he was your best friend and, despite the saying that time heals all wounds, this day was still hard on you. It was a bit better than when the night he was killed rolled around each year, but it was hard nonetheless. It was also hard because Jay had to see his dad, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"Hey, Jay. How's work?" Pat Halstead asked as his youngest son entered the house. He was seated in the recliner in the living room, catching the highlights of the Blackhawks game from last night.

"Please don't do that," Jay stated.

"Do what?" Pat asked as he muted the tv.

"Pretend like you care. Pretend like you were there for me when I was Y/N's age because we both know you weren't. Remember that fight I got--"

"Jay? Are we going to the Corsons?" you asked, popping into the living room and stopping your dad and Jay's conversation in its tracks.

"Uh, yeah, c'mon let's go," Jay faltered.

You smiled, but it was more of just tipping one side of your lips upward. Today was a day that didn't warrant full smiles, only half-smiles and maybe a few quiet giggles like when you, Jay, Gail, Danny, and occasionally Allie if she was home, told stories about yours and Ben's escapades when you were younger...when Ben was alive.

"Thanks. I made a card, too." You turned to your dad before you left. "Bye, Dad. See you tonight."

"Bye, don't let her eat too much cake, Jay," your dad replied.

"And just for that, you're getting two pieces," Jay whispered in your ear as soon as you were out on the front porch. You rolled your eyes. "Hey, don't use that teenage sass with me, missy."

"Shut up," you joked. "It's just funny because every time Dad tells you not to do something, you do it anyway. It's probably because it's more fun when you're not allowed to do it."

"Okay, fine, I guess you're right about that."

"Ha, you're wrong about something!"

"Technically, I wasn't wrong. I just said you were right. But, do not tell Will."

"No promises."

You walked up the porch steps and Jay rapped on the door of the Corson's. You took a deep breath, trying to forget the many afternoons after school that you'd do the same exact thing, impatiently waiting for Ben to emerge so that you could both play in the backyard together until one of you got called inside for dinner, not without promises to play with each other the next day.

"You okay?" Jay asked, noticing your change in demeanor from joking with him to solemn in a matter of seconds.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"Jay, Y/N," Gail Corson said as she answered the door after you and Jay had each given her a hug.

You walked inside to the kitchen table, where Ben's dad, Danny, was just sitting, staring into space. "Hey, Danny," Jay said.

"Hi, Jay. Y/N," he replied.

You never knew what to say when it came to this day, so you just handed Danny the envelope. "I, uh, I made a card for Ben," you said. "I don't know if you want to open it and read it or just put it somewhere, I just--"

"I'll open it, sweetheart," Gail interrupted and then took the card from her husband.

You had made the card out of light blue construction paper and had used a navy blue pen to write in your best cursive handwriting, Happy 14th birthday, Ben!, since blue was Ben's favorite color. You hadn't known what else to write, because, what else could you write? Tell him what he was missing out on with being gone and cry so hard while making the card that that marker smudged and bled through the other side of the construction paper? No, you couldn't do that. So, you had resorted to printing out some pictures of you and Ben (some with you, Ben, Jay, Allie, and the occasional one with Will) on computer paper, cut them out, and glued them inside the card. You wanted the card to be filled with happy, funny memories, not sad, sappy writing.

Gail let out a sad laugh. "When was this one taken?"

You looked at the picture she was pointing at. It was a selfie no doubt taken on Allie's old flip phone. In it, Jay and Allie were making funny faces and you and Ben were both smiling proudly because of the work you had done.

Jay was supposed to be babysitting you and Allie was supposed to be babysitting Ben since your parents and his parents had gone out for dinner together. You both should have been in bed in your own separate houses since there was a rule about Allie and Jay not hanging out alone together at home when there were no parents around, but you had lost count of how many times they had broken that rule.

It was around 11 at night when Ben had woken you up with two black, Crayola markers in his hand and had told you that both Jay and Allie were asleep on the couch. So, as quiet as you could, you both tip-toed into the living room, uncapped your markers, and got to work.

You knew they had seen the trouble you two had gotten into when you heard running. You and Ben giggled to yourselves as you heard the water running from the bathroom.

Soon enough, Jay flung your door open. And, you guys just couldn't help yourselves and started to laugh even harder.

Then, to get you back, Jay had tickled you and Allie tickled Ben. Once you had all calmed down, Allie suggested that the four of you take a picture. And, the next time Allie and Ben came over when Jay was babysitting, he was sure to hide all the markers on the top shelf of his bookshelf in his bedroom where there was no way either of you would be able to find them, let alone reach them.

"So, you and Allie did hang out together with no parental supervision," Danny chirped. "Don't do stupid things like your brother here, Y/N."

"Hey," Jay started to defend himself. "We learned our lesson...to hide the markers."

"Do you remember when he got in trouble for pushing some kid on the playground, Gail?" Danny asked his wife.

"Oh, how could I forget that! I got a call from the school saying that Ben was in trouble and I knew on my way over there that he'd be grounded from the tv for weeks. But, then in the car on the ride home, he explained to me that some kid in his grade was telling Y/N she couldn't play with them since she was a grade below them. Then, he pushed him down and said that, yes, she could play."

"You never told me the full story of that, Y/N. What's this kid's name?" Jay asked.

"Jay, it was years ago! Give the overprotective big brother thing a rest, would you?"

"Would you kids like some cake?" Gail asked.

You swallowed. Chocolate on chocolate cake, Ben's favorite and yours. But, now on your birthday, you'd switched to marble just so that you wouldn't be reminded of how Ben would never see you on your birthday again.

Jay noticed your discomfort and how you probably didn't want to start bawling your eyes out just because you didn't want Gail and Danny to start crying, as well. Even though they'd probably done enough crying today as it was.

"Actually, we gotta run. I have to get Y/N home because she has homework to do and I have some police business to tend to," Jay answered, sensing your discomfort as the good detective he was.

"At least let me give you a slice to go," Gail suggested.

Abruptly, Danny stood up and shoved his chair under the table, and left the kitchen. You heard a door slam.

You widened your eyes for a split second and then quickly regained your composure. His son was dead and his killer was still on the loose; he had every right to lash out.

"This is always a tough day for him," Gail started. "He won't eat it. I just end up throwing it out."

Jay nodded. "Small slice." He turned to look at you. "And an even bigger slice for her."

Gail went over to a cupboard and pulled out two Tupperware containers and then two plastic forks from a drawer. Then, she cut two slices of cake and placed them inside the containers, handing you the one that contained the bigger slice.

"Thank you," you said.

"Yes, thank you," Jay agreed. "And, if there's anything either you or Danny need, please don't hesitate to call me."

Gail nodded and the two of you left the Corson's house, cake in hand.

"Happy birthday, Ben," you whispered when you were walking down the steps.

Then, when you got back to your house, Jay pulled out his keys and unlocked his car. "Hop in," he told you.

"Where are we going?" you asked. "I thought you had some police stuff to do?"

"You know how on Mom's birthday, we always go to the cemetery and plant flowers?" he asked. You nodded. That day was always full of crying despite how old you got. Hell, even Jay cried. It was one of the only times that he'd let his guard down and let his emotions take over in full force. "Look in the backseat."

There, sitting on the backseat on a towel so that dirt wouldn't get everywhere, was a carton full of Morning Glories. "Blue. Ben's favorite color."

"Yeah," Jay said, the volume of his voice almost a whisper. "We just have to make a quick pitstop first and then we'll go and plant them." You both buckled up and then Jay actually realized that he might have overlooked something. "You don't actually have a ton of homework to get done, do you?"

"No, even if I did, I wouldn't be able to focus on it." You took a bite of the birthday cake. "Does it get any easier?"

"Does what get any easier?" he asked, while still keeping his eyes on the road, his cake forgotten.

"You know, losing people. I know it'll be hard every year for Mom because she was our mom--"

"First of all, she's still our mom, Y/N. No one is going to replace her. Second of all, continue."

"Sorry, I know you got more time with her and knew her better than I did--"

"Listen, if you ever want to hear stories about Mom or Mom and Dad or anything like that, just ask me. I know you were just a kid, hell you are still just a kid, but you can always ask me about her. Always, okay?"

You nodded, feeling grateful that you at least had one brother who looked out for you. Lord knows Will didn't since he was barely home. You didn't hold a grudge against him or anything like Jay did, you just felt like he wasn't there. And, you knew that him not being there had hurt Jay, so it was hard for the three of you to all act like siblings when you felt like you'd need to jump in and stop a fight between your brothers at any moment. If it was just you and Will or just you and Jay, your relationship was great. But, when it was the three of you together, you could practically feel the tension between Will and Jay.

"So, does it get easier? Losing friends I mean. Like, when their birthdays come around or the day they died, does your heart feel like it isn't being ripped out of your chest every second of those days?"

You assumed that Jay had lost friends when he was overseas, which was why he came home from his second tour a year earlier than scheduled. That and your mom was sick.

"That's how you're feeling with Ben? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"I knew you had your own stuff going on with being a detective and all and I know you think you know who did it and I don't want you going to prison."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. My job will never be more important than you." It might be more important than Will, he thought to himself. But, you didn't need to know that piece of information. "But, to answer your question, no it doesn't get any easier. I mean it kinda does, because the pain of losing them isn't as fresh as the years go by, but the day still sucks no matter how many years it's been."

"Then how do you deal with? When those days of the year roll around?"

"Distract yourself to try and forget. But, pretend I didn't tell you that. Go talk to someone instead."

"That's not what you do though, is it? Talk to someone?"

"Do as I say, kid. Do as I say, not as I do."

"Will you ever stop calling me kid? I'm thirteen, Jay!"

"Nope, in my head you're still that four-year-old with the Build-A-Bear."

He pulled the car up to the curb. You looked up as Jay put it in the park. "Why are we here?"

"Just, stay in the car, okay? I'm gonna be right outside, but I just have something I need to take care of."

"Okay."

You knew this house. You weren't going to tell Jay, but you walked past it every day when going to school because it was shorter than taking the route your parents had taught you to take. Jay was the one who actually taught you to take this route three years ago when he had walked you to school after Ben's death. But, he told you never to take this way to or from school when you were alone. But, seeing as it was five minutes faster and you were a teenager and cherished every second of sleep, you didn't listen and took this way every single school day.

Jay got out of the car and leaned up against it. Then, he opened his container of chocolate on chocolate birthday cake and began to eat it. You knew what he was doing. It was the reason he had taken this route to school with you. He told you it was because it was faster, but you knew it was because he wanted to tail Lonnie Rodiger...which you assumed was the reason why he didn't want you walking here alone. Because a pedophile lived here. Well, technically he wasn't a pedophile yet because he wasn't convicted, but you had heard enough conversations between Jay, Gail, and Danny when they all thought you were out of earshot to know that Lonnie was the one who killed your childhood best friend.

You saw Lonnie peak out through the curtains of one of the windows. And, if it weren't for Jay's water bottle that was sitting in the cupholder that you quickly took a swig of, you would've choked on your bite of cake.

A patrol car pulled up across the street and a uniformed cop came out. It was the same kind of uniform that Jay had been wearing the night you ran over to the Corson's house when it became a crime scene. You quickly wiped the few tears away at the memory of that night. If Jay got arrested, you knew you'd have to go with him because you couldn't drive. And, you didn't want to be crying in the back of a cop car while Jay was trying to talk his way out of an arrest.

Jay resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, they called the cops! Of course, they did! They'd call the cops and arrest him for harassing a pedophile and a killer, but they wouldn't arrest Lonnie for being a pedophile and a killer.

"Can I see your driver's license?" the patrolman asked.

Jay lifted his shirt, revealing his badge and gun. Despite being off duty, he had it. He always had it when he came around the Rodiger house. If Lonnie struck first, then he'd have him on assaulting an officer...and have an excuse to kill the son of a bitch. It would be in self-defense after all. He feared serious bodily harm.

But, of course, that wasn't going to happen, not today anyway.

"Halstead. Intelligence," Jay answered.

"This is harassment!" Phil Rodiger yelled as marched outside and pointed at Jay, Lonnie right behind him.

"Just eating some birthday cake," Jay said, poking the cake with his plastic fork. "Today would've been a birthday."

You felt your lip begin to tremble.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you kept telling yourself.

But, it was no use. It was just those three words: would have been.

It would have been Ben's fourteenth birthday if he was still here and if he wasn't buried in the ground in the cemetery, a high collared shirt on to hide the strangulation marks that Lonnie gave him when he wrapped a rope around his neck and pulled, choking him to death.

If he were still here, he would've had a birthday party. It might have been small with only a few people. You might not even have been invited because you're in middle school and middle schoolers like to talk. And, maybe, if you had been invited, people would have said that he had a crush on you and teased him about it.

Maybe, the early stages of puberty would have hit Ben by now and he would have become what you deemed to be cute. Maybe, he would've had a crush on you and you would've had a crush on him if he was still around. But, he would forever be stuck in your head as your best friend, no romantic feelings whatsoever, since he only lived to be eleven years old.

"Arrest him!" Phil Rodiger yelled, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Get him out of here!"

This was it. Maybe the patrolman wouldn't notice you were in the car and you could sneak back home in a few minutes and call Erin, get her to talk to Voight about getting your brother out of lockup. (Yes, you had Erin's number because you needed questions answered that would make your dad and Jay uncomfortable. Even though Will was a doctor, there was no way you would ask him about girl stuff, even though you were pretty sure he had heard and seen it all in New York.)

"Sorry, pal," the patrolman said.

Okay, so you wouldn't be dragged into the back of a patrol car and also wouldn't have to help Jay beat a charge. Thank god your brother was a part of Chicago's famous Intelligence Unit.

You set your cake on the dashboard. You couldn't take it anymore. If Jay wasn't going to say it, you would.

Jay heard the passenger side door open and whipped his head around. "Y/N," he warned. "Get back in the car."

"He killed my best friend, Jay!" you yelled, tears running down your cheeks. "What do you want me to do? Sit in the car and watch him just get away with it?"

The patrolman's eyes grew wide. Seeing that made you realize what you had just said.

You just accused Lonnie of murder.

"Y/N!" Jay yelled. You looked up to see that he had thrown his cake on the ground. "Get back in the car!"

Okay, so Jay's scary when he's angry, noted.

You made your way around the car and into the passenger seat. Then, you just watched as Jay talked to the patrolman, trying to sort this all out.

You didn't mean to do it. It just came out.

You fucked up. Maybe you were going to be the one arrested this time. And, since you weren't a cop, there'd be no way to easily get out of those handcuffs.

You put your head in your hands and changed the radio station, trying your best to make sure you didn't hear the conversation between Jay and the patrolman.

Soon, the patrolman sped off. You were safe. But, Lonnie and Phil were still standing across the street, outside, watching Jay, watching you.

"Get outta here!" Phil yelled.

Jay was almost to the car when he turned around, rage painted on his freckled face. "Three years ago today, Lonnie! Three years! He would've been fourteen! Fourteen!"

"I'm gonna call my lawyer! I'm getting a restraining order!" Phil promised.

"Yeah? Well, I'm gonna give you a reason to need one someday! You and your sick-ass son!"

He slammed the door shut, but you didn't look at him, just kept your gaze on the world outside the passenger side. Jay turned the key and his car roared to life. You heard him sigh, but didn't say a word.

"Look, I'm sorry," he began as he started driving.

"So you get to confront him but when I try it's all get back in the car, Y/N?" you quoted his words from earlier using a mocking tone.

"Lonnie's fu- he's messed up in the head, okay? I don't want him to have any reason to come after you. We both know what he did to Ben and I wish we could nail him on that, but right now, with the evidence that there is, it just can't happen. I'm sorry, I just wanted to keep you safe. I couldn't live with myself if that psycho did anything to you."

"I guess you have a point."

"I always have a point."

Ten minutes later you pulled up to the cemetery. Jay grabbed the small bag of tools and you carried the flowers, not without being warned every thirty seconds not to tip them at all so that they didn't fall out. It was the same thing as when you'd plant them at your mom's grave: you'd always be the one to carry the flowers, but they'd always warn you to be careful with them and then say that you weren't carrying them next year...and then they'd forget they'd said that and the process would repeat itself.

"I'll dig up the first bit of dirt and then you can help me. The top part's always the hardest," Jay said once you had made it to Ben's grave and he started rummaging through the tools.

"Okay." You didn't know what else to say. You just stared at the headstone. You wished he'd just come back to as a ghost or spirit or something for a minute--literally just sixty seconds--so that he could tell you that Lonnie did it.

Twenty minutes later, you and Jay stood up and admired your work. There were flowers there already from the Corson family, but the blue gave even more color to the normally dismal place.

"I'm gonna go find a trash can," Jay said as he picked up the empty plastic pots that the flowers came in. "Give you some time alone."

You nodded, not knowing what to say. Even when Jay left you had no idea what to say. It had been three years, so you didn't feel like you needed to talk to Ben. After all, if he was in heaven, he was looking down on you and knew what was going on in your life, so there was no reason to tell him about it. And, he was a kid, so he had to have gone to heaven, right?

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

You heard thunder rumble from above, which drowned out the sound of your choked sobs. The grass beside you started to get wet from the drizzle that had just started, but by how many seconds there were between each clap of thunder, you knew a downpour was just a matter of minutes away.

So many things could have gone differently that night. If Ben had come over to your house to spend the night, he'd still be here. You knew you couldn't change anything. Hell, you didn't even talk about having a sleepover that night, that week, or even that weekend. And, the night he was murdered was a school night, so your dad wouldn't have let Ben spend the night anyway. There was nothing you could have done.

Despite how many years passed, you wondered if you wouldn't have fallen asleep so fast that night if you would have been able to hear screams and called 911 for help. Maybe he'd still be alive if you couldn't fall asleep that night. Maybe, if Jay was off-duty that day and if there was a Blackhawks game on that night, he would've come over and you would've insisted on staying up late and ended up falling asleep on the couch. But, because of Jay being very observant, maybe he would've seen something, heard something, or even just felt that something was very wrong and could've stopped it and arrested Lonnie before it ended tragically.

You felt something wrap around your arms and looked up to see that Jay was back. You felt goosebumps on your body and that's when you realized your hair was sopping wet and water was dripping down the side of your face and was soaking your jeans and shirt.

You heard the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the large umbrella that Jay usually stowed in his trunk and pulled Jay's jean jacket that he just laid over your shoulders tighter around yourself.

He picked up his tools and turned to you. "You ready? Can't have you getting sick."

"How long have I just been crouched here?" you asked. You knew your thoughts sometimes got the best of you and before you knew it, an hour could've passed when your mind was focused on one subject.

"Until I thought you were going to freeze to death and get sick. And, it's only been about fifteen minutes. I ran to the bathroom and then grabbed the umbrella out of the car. You ready?" he repeated.

You wiped your eyes, not knowing if it was dried tears or dried raindrops on your cheeks. "Uh, yeah."

Jay picked up the bag of tools and you walked back to the car, the umbrella being big enough for both of you to fit underneath.

Once in the car, you slipped off Jay's jean jacket and tried to hand it back to him. "No, at least wear it until we get home. Dad'll kill me if he sees that you're sopping wet and then he'll think that I just left you out in the rain."

"Brother of the year." And, despite the circumstances, both of you laughed.

***

Math homework is due tomorrow...why does math have letters anyway? I'm never gonna need this in life. Snap out of it, Y/N. You can focus on that later. Just focus on the walk home. You have to be careful now since you're walking by their house.

You tried to turn your attention to the world ahead of you, or more accurately, the road and houses in front of you. You needed to be on high alert since you were about to walk past the Rodiger house. And, they saw you now...hopefully, they hadn't filed a restraining order against you, too. As far as you knew, it was just Jay, but you didn't need to have Jay get you out of trouble today.

Your eyes darted across the street to the house, while you tried to make sure you didn't cast your glance there too long as to be suspicious. It was Jay's job to be suspicious while walking past this house. It was your job to get to and from school safely when walking past this house. You'd leave the detective/spying/surveillance stuff to Jay.

You tried to focus on the road straight ahead of you, but it was no use when you saw movement out of the left side of your peripheral vision.

You turned and gasped. They turned too, and now you were frozen in place.

He widened his creepy eyes and stared back at you, like a deer caught in the headlights, like a criminal caught in the act because right now, that's what you assumed he was.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, neither of you breaking eye contact.

Then, you took off running. No way in hell were you telling your dad what just happened. One time he caught you walking home this way and said if he found out that you walked to or from school this way again that you'd be grounded for an undisclosed amount of time.

No one needed to know that you had just seen Lonnie Rodiger with duct tape and rope, the two things everyone assumed he had used to kill Ben Corson. No one needed to know. Just shut your mouth and don't tell anyone and everything would be fine. You would be fine.

***

Jay was sitting across from Antonio at Molly's, slowly sipping on the bit of whiskey left in his glass. "You knew the family?" Antonio asked him.

"He's the younger brother of a girl I dated in high school. Was Y/N's best friend, too. And his parents, Danny and Gail, they came to my graduation from the academy." When my dad wouldn't because he hates all my life choices. Probably hates me, too, Jay wanted to add but stopped himself. "I still see 'em on what would be Ben's birthday. Y/N comes too and god, you know what she asked me this year, Antonio?" Antonio shook his head. "She asked me if their birthdays or the day they died gets easier when it rolls around every year. She's thirteen! She shouldn't have to remember his birthday. Ben should be alive and Y/N should be seeing him on his birthday. But now all she probably remembers on his birthday is seeing his lifeless body lying in the grass...that's probably what she remembers." He took another sip of whiskey.

"Wait, you're saying your little sister saw the body at the crime scene?" Antonio asked.

"Uh, yeah. Me and my partner were first on scene. And...I see a shoe. I push the reeds back because Gail used to have this huge garden with really nice grass, reeds, flowers, other things. And, now she doesn't because it reminds her too much of that night.

"But uh, anyway, I pushed those reeds back..." He swallowed and tried to keep the tears at bay. He couldn't cry. Not in front of his mentor; not in front of the detective who got him into Intelligence in the first place, even if it was only because he caught a bullet in the process of trying to help Gabby and everyone's favorite after-shift hangout spot, Molly's. "And there he is. I still see his face."

Antonio took a swig of his beer. "How'd your sister find him?"

"My dad told me later that she had heard and seen the sirens and went to wake him up and then they came over to see what was going on. She was only nine, hell, she even had her teddy bear with her when they came outside. She was small and easy to miss. Before anyone could stop her...she, uh, she ducked under the crime scene tape and she saw him. I will never forget how she screamed out Ben's name.

"Then, I ran over to her and tried to block him from view, but you know as well as I do, Antonio, that seeing a body like that, well the damage is already done. So, then I just took her home and my partner explained the situation to my sergeant so that I didn't get in trouble for just leaving a crime scene. I never told her about the rape, just that he was dead. She probably put the pieces together that he was raped since she's gotten older, but I didn't heave the heart to tell her."

Antonio nodded. If he was in the same position as Jay was and Gabby was in your position, he knew he'd do the same exact thing. "I remember his dad alibied him out," Antonio stated. "But, they never had anything on Lonnie. Nothing?"

"No," Jay scoffed. "They caught him jerkin' it outside an elementary school a week prior to finding Ben. They found fucking kiddie porn on his computer. A-And secret pictures that he'd taken of Ben."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Nuh-uh. We all knew Lonnie did it. But, you know, his dad lied." Jay shrugged. "And, uh, they got a good lawyer for that sick of a bitch."

Jay took a sip of his whiskey, blinking back tears. Antonio sighed and looked at the young detective. "Hey, be careful. You hear me?"

"I know, I just--" Jay was cut off by his phone ringing. He looked at it. Why's Dad calling at 11 o'clock at night? Why is Dad calling me at all?

He declined the call.

"Who was that?" Antonio asked.

"Not important. Anyway, I'll be care--" His phone started ringing again. "Dammit," he muttered and then pressed the answer icon. "Yeah?"

"J-Jay?"

"Y/N? What are you still doing up? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"I didn't want to tell you because you and Dad always tell me not to walk there by myself, but I saw him and he saw me and I thought I'd be fine but now I can't sleep and--"

"Whoa, whoa. Take a breath, okay?"

You took a deep, shaky breath as few tears slipped down your face. You tried not to think about your encounter with Lonnie earlier today, but as you tried to sleep and the darkness took over the world, you couldn't stop your thoughts from running rampant. What if he was going to use that duct tape and rope on you now because he had seen you? Kill all the witnesses so that there wouldn't be a trial and he wouldn't get convicted?

"Now, tell me again what happened," Jay said calmly, all his cop instincts taking over and talking to as if you were a victim for the time being. "This time slower."

"I took the way home from school that you taught me to take and tell me to never take alone--"

"Y/N," Jay wiped a hand over his face. "Me and Dad told you not to go that way by yourself."

"I know, but I saw Lonnie and he had supplies and he saw me. I thought it was fine but now I can't sleep and--"

"Y/N," Jay started again. "Slow. Down. You saw Lonnie?"

At the mention of that name, Antonio looked up.

"Yeah," you answered, trying to slow your rate of speaking. "He had- he had rope and duct tape. And- and he saw me. I'm scared. I'm so scared, Jay. What if he comes after me now?" You covered your mouth with your hand to stop your dad from hearing your sobs. You assumed he was sleeping, and if he wasn't you hoped he didn't notice that you were on the phone. All he had to do was pick it up and see line in use and then you'd be in trouble for walking that way.

"Y/N, listen to me. I'm not gonna let that happen. I'm gonna leave Molly's right now and then be over there. Are you in your room?"

"Yeah."

"Is Dad still up?" Jay asked.

"I-I don't know."

"Okay, just stay put and I'll be there as soon as I can. And, we can explain it to Dad together, alright?"

"Okay. You promise you'll be here soon?"

"I promise. I'm leaving Molly's right now."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"Okay, bye Jay."

Jay ended the call and started putting on his jacket. "What was that all about?" Antonio asked.

"Y/N took the fastest route home from school today, which goes by the Rodiger place. She said she saw Lonnie and he had duct tape and rope with him. He saw her, Antonio."

"Shit." Antonio pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table. "I got it. I'll be right behind you."

"Thanks, man."

***

Jay slowly turned the key in the lock and opened the door, Antonio following him. "Dad?" Jay asked.

"Jay?" he answered from the living room, sounding as if he had just woken up from falling asleep in front of the tv. "What are you doing here?"

"I can explain if you wanna go check on Y/N, Jay," Antonio suggested.

"Yeah, yeah that'd be great. Thanks, man."

You heard knocking at your door, causing you to draw in a deep breath. "Y/N? Open up, it's Jay."

You set Beary down--yes when you were scared you still liked to have your Build-A-Bear in your hand because it gave you comfort--and then stood up from your bed to open the door.

"Jay." You launched yourself into his arms before he could even comprehend what was happening. "I'm so scared. What if he comes after me?"

Jay wrapped his arms around you and ran his hand up and down your back, just like he had done a few years ago when he had brought you back home after you had seen Ben's lifeless body lying in the grass. "Shhh, shhh it's okay. You're okay." Now he was most definitely using the tone he used when talking to child victims.

"What if he- what if he comes after me though, Jay?" you asked, soaking his shirt with tears of fright.

"Hey," he pulled away. "Look at me." You looked up at your older brother. "I will not let that happen. Ever. You understand me?" You nodded. "Now, how about you pack a bag, and then you can stay at my place until this all blows over."

"Why?"

Jay sighed. "Just, please do it."

You pulled out a peach-colored duffle from your closet.

"I'll be right downstairs if you need me."

He walked downstairs to see your dad still sitting on the living room couch with Antonio sitting in the chair across from him. "I'm taking Y/N to my place for a few days until this whole thing gets sorted out," Jay announced.

"She was walking that way because you taught her how to take it!" Pat Halstead bellowed as he stood up off the couch and pointed an accusing finger at his youngest son. "If you had never walked that way when you took her to school, then we would never be in this position!"

"We?" Jay asked rhetorically. "I don't recall Y/N telling me that you were with her when she saw that sick son of bitch walking home with his weapons of choice! It's Y/N that's in this position! Not me, not you, not us, Y/N."

"She's my daughter!"

"Yeah, I gathered that," Jay scoffed. "At least you care about her...unlike how you weren't there for me and Will. Or, if my memory serves me correctly, it was when I was in my early teens when you stopped caring. So, I expect in the next two years that you'll stop taking good care of Y/N and stop showing up to her games, like you did for me and Will. Oh, and you'll start questioning her life choices, just like you did almost every damn day to both me and Will."

"It's not my fault that you made a stupid decision with your life and Will decided to leave and waste all his money and to do what? To go to Sudan and then to New York?"

"There you go again, same old same old. You want us to be here, but whenever we are, we just end up fighting."

"Okay, okay," Antonio butted in. "How about we all take a breath and then talk about what's gonna happen next."

Jay took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Your dad sat back down on the couch and crossed his arms in front of him.

"Good," Antonio began. "Y/N give you anything else about what she saw upstairs other than what she told you over the phone?"

"No," Jay answered. "She just told me that she's really scared that Lonnie's gonna come after her. Noting more about what she saw."

"Jay?" you asked as you poked your head into the living room, duffle bag slung over your shoulder. "I'm ready."

You said goodbye to your dad and then followed Jay to your car. He explained that Antonio was going to come to his apartment just for a little while so that they could discuss how they were going to proceed with the information you had given them. But, that you should go to sleep when you got to his apartment because it was a school night.

"Do I have to go to school tomorrow?" you whined as you set your bag down next to the couch...which would also be your bed until all this was cleared up.

"I know you're not going to get a lot of sleep, but yeah, as much as it sucks, you have to go to school tomorrow."

It was nearing 12:30 and you had to be up for school at 6:00 since school started before 7:30 in the morning. You'd be lucky if you managed five hours of sleep.

"Please, Jay," you begged. "My first two classes are just choir and gym, so I can miss those. And, I'm pretty sure if you called me in it'd count as an excused absence. Please?"

"Fine," Jay conceded. "But just because I think it's stupid how early school starts."

You heard a knock on the door. "Be right there, Antonio!" Jay said, trying to keep his yelling voice at somewhat of a normal level since people in the other apartments were sleeping.

"I'm gonna go grab a blanket," you told Jay.

You grabbed a blanket and threw it on the couch as Jay went to answer the door and let Antonio inside.

"Jay, I'm stealing one of your pillows," you told him as you entered his bedroom area.

"Actually, you can take my bed for tonight," he suggested.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. In all the nights you had spent at Jay's apartment in the past few years when your dad had to work late or went out, you had always slept on that couch. And, it was because it was actually comfortable. (Jay's reasoning was that he didn't want to get one of his nightmares that happened a handful of times per year and break his hand from hitting the coffee table in his sleep because he was thinking that it was an enemy because he thought he was back in Afghanistan. But, of course, you didn't know that.)

"It's just because I need to talk to Antonio and I don't need you having easy access to the conversation."

You nodded, tiredness overtaking you. "Alright." You yawned. "I'm going to bed. 'Night guys."

Jay and Antonio both said goodnight and then you walked into Jay's bedroom area and slid the sliding doors closed. During that time, the two detectives each took a seat at the kitchen table.

"We can put a patrol car out in front of Lonnie's house," Jay suggested.

"You know we can't do that," Antonio told him.

"Well, why not? You know he's gonna kill again!" Jay resisted the urge to slam his fist down on the table.

"You have no solid proof. I know you believe Y/N, and I do, too, but we don't have proof. If we had cam or pod footage, we might be able to do that. But, as far as we know, we don't have that. Nothing's been reported or called in. Hell, for all we know Lonnie's doing a DIY project."

"So get his credit card records and security footage from the store," Jay growled.

"You know as well as I do Halstead, that we can't do that without a warrant. And for a warrant, we're gonna need sufficient evidence. And, the word of your sister just isn't gonna cut it this time. Sorry, man."

Jay sighed and put his head in his hands, then looked back up at Antonio. "I just can't let him do it. I can't let him kill another kid."

"I know. Believe me, neither you nor me want that, but for now, we just need to wait until the right time. And you, need to get some sleep."

"I guess you're right. Maybe sleep would help me figure out how to solve this thing."

***

Jay had just dropped you off at school--he had called the school and excused your absences from your first two classes--and was walking out of a small coffee shop a few blocks away from the district when his phone rang.

"What do you got, Jin?" Jay asked. Benefits of working in Intelligence and having a tech guy for the unit: getting him to dig into things under the table.

"That Lonnie Rodiger credit card you wanted me to track," Jin started on the other end of the line, "Just got a hit from a toy store downtown."

"Text me the address."

A few seconds later, Jin had texted Jay the address and he jumped in his car and made his way into the heart of downtown Chicago.

Then, he sat in his car and stared at the store, waiting for the scrawny, creepy-ass pedophile slash murderer to make his way out of it.

When Lonnie walked out, Jay just stared at him. If he got made, so what? He was in his car. He could say he was doing surveillance for another case that he couldn't talk about right now because it was an open investigation. But, he wouldn't be able to blame surveillance of an ongoing investigation for strangling Lonnie to death, killing him the exact same way as he had killed Ben Corson three years ago.

Lonnie was carrying a bag full of what Jay assumed were toys. The toys, the rope, the duct tape, Lonnie was going to strike again. And, Jay had to act fast to ensure that another kid didn't get their life taken away just because this bastard had sick, twisted fantasies.

Jay was about to call Jin back, see what else he could pull up on him, anything that gave him an excuse to call Atwater and Burgess to arrest him. But, his phone rang.

"Go for Jay," he answered.

"Where you at?" Voight asked on the other end of the line. "I know you came in late because of your sister, but I need you now."

"I'm on my way in," he lied.

"Good. We're in Chinatown. I'll send you the address."

"Oh, Sarge?"

"Yes, Halstead?"

"Do you mind if I leave for a bit around 2:15ish? It's just, Y/N has a doctor's appointment and my dad's working and I don't want her taking the bus--"

"Jay," Voight interrupted, "Take your sister to her appointment. I'll just send the address of where we're gonna be if we aren't at the district. Just, keep your phone on."

"Thanks, Sarge."

Of course, that appointment was a lie; Jay just wanted to pick you up from school and then drop you off at his apartment while he went back to work so that you wouldn't be at home where Lonnie could find you. But, Jay had to push that out of his mind right now because he was on another case with his unit that needed solving, his side case on Lonnie Rodiger needed to be put on the backburner...at least for the next few hours.

***

"Lonnie Rodiger's credit card," Jin said as Jay entered the tech room.

"Yeah, I know, I'm working on a court order so I don't get my ass handed to me by Voight, I know," Jay replied.

"Okay...you deal with that. All I was gonna say was that another hit came up from his card at a Home Depot in Humboldt Park. He bought..." Jin clicked some keys on his computer until the list of things Lonnie purchased popped up. "A two-person tent, a kerosene lamp, and some bug spray. A rapist-murderer planning a camping trip? Not much you can get him on with just that."

"Any chance he purchased rope and duct tape?" Jay asked.

Jin scrolled through the list of items again. "Not that I see here. Why?"

"Not important. Thanks for the help, Jin."

Jay walked back into the bullpen, about to grab his jacket and head into the locker room when Voight emerged from his office at the same time. "Halstead, my office."

"I told you to let the Rodiger thing go months ago," Voight told Jay when the door was securely shut.

"I have...for the most part." I have...until my sister got involved and told me he bought duct tape and rope and now she's staying at my place so that I can protect her from that sick-ass son of a bitch.

"If you're not straight with me, I can't protect you."

"You? Protect me? I don't need protecting, Sarge, but thanks for the offer. I'll keep it in mind if I ever go off the rails and kill someone."

"Jay, listen to me! What the hell is going on with you? You got here later than usual today, which I know you said is because of your sister, but you look exhausted like you haven't slept in days. And don't think I didn't notice that you've been constantly checking your phone when we weren't out in the field."

Jay sighed. "I think Lonnie's gonna kill another kid."

"Jay, I know that kid's family was like your own. But, you gotta be careful. You've got eyes on you. And, it's not just me this time."

"Copy that." Then, Jay exited his sergeant's office, grabbed his jacket off his chair, and headed to the locker room. Damn, did he really want to go home after that conversation with his boss.

"You headin' to Molly's, Jay?" Adam asked as they grabbed their stuff from the locker room.

"Nah, man. I got some stuff I gotta take care of," Jay replied. "Maybe another night."

"If you say so."

***

You were sitting on the couch reading a book when you heard a knock at Jay's apartment door. "Y/N, it's Jay, open up."

You got up and unlocked the door, letting him into his own apartment. "Why didn't you just unlock it yourself? Or, did I get your only key?

"Nope, you got my spare. I have mine." He pulled his keyring out of the front pocket of his jeans and set it down on the counter. "Just didn't want to scare you is all."

"Thanks, greatly appreciated. What are you hiding behind your back? And what smells so good?" you asked, seeing as Jay hadn't moved his left hand from behind his back and was trying really hard to make sure you didn't see what was there. Even when he had walked inside the apartment from the hallway, he still somehow hid it behind his back and out of your view. And, the smell of greasy food was starting to waft around the apartment so you had a pretty good idea what he was hiding.

He pulled a takeout bag from behind his back. "I got us Arby's!"

"Really? Did you get me mozzarella sticks?" you asked trying to grab the bag from him, but he held it out of your reach.

Jay chuckled at your excitement. "Yes, I got you mozzarella sticks. Now, let me get this out of the bag and you can get the game set up?"

"Okay!" You sat on the couch and turned on the Blackhawks game that was going to start in five minutes. "It's ready!"

"Be right there!"

A minute later, Jay passed you a plate which contained an original roast beef and cheddar sandwich and of course, your precious mozzarella sticks and a few packs of Arby's and marinara sauce.

"Uh," Jay groaned as he lowered himself onto the couch.

"You're getting old," you laughed.

"I am not!" he protested.

"Yes, you are! Only old people sigh like that when they go to sit down!"

"Well, excuse me for having to chase psychos around the city for a living." You reached over and grabbed a few curly fries off his plate, hoping he was distracted enough by your old Jay comment that he didn't notice...he did. "Hey!"

"Oops." You squirted some Arby's sauce on your plate and dipped a curly fry in it. "Good." Jay just continued to stare at you. "Fine, here," you said as you handed him a mozzarella stick.

"You're not gonna offer me any marinara?"

You tossed him a pack. "Better?"

"Better." Both he and you turned your attention to the tv. "Remember, end of the second period, it's bedtime."

"Jay," you whined. "Please can I stay up and watch the entire game?"

"No, because I am not calling you in late tomorrow and getting to work later than usual because of it." Luckily today we didn't catch a case until around 10 o'clock this morning, so it didn't matter that I was late and tailing Lonnie anyway. "And, you're gonna be a grouch if you don't enough sleep."

"Jay! I am not grouchy!"

"Yes, Y/N, you are! Whoa, a fight!" And while your attention was quickly focused on the tv, Jay stole some of his curly fries back.

***

Jay walked into the district the next morning to be met with Erin and Alvin. "Did you guys catch the game last night?" he asked them as he slipped off his jacket and slung it over his desk chair. "Eighteen seconds into overtime, Kane scores a backhander. Guy's on fire this season."

Despite Jay telling you that you needed to go to bed after the end of the second period, the game was so good that he let you stay up to watch it all...the one caveat being that you had to get up in the morning with no complaint. And, you didn't complain one single time even though you almost fell asleep with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth when you were getting ready this morning.

Neither Erin nor Alvin had said anything, they just stared at Jay with worried looks on both their faces. "What's with you two?" Jay furrowed his eyebrows and walked closer to them.

"Halstead," Voight said after he opened his office door.

Jay's eyes widened. Shit, what'd I do now?

"Commander," Jay said as he saw Commander Perry standing in Voight's office. So, even when I'm a grown man, there's still a version of the principal's office. Who knew? Except, this principal controls my job...which means he controls my money. Whatever he thinks I did, it wasn't me.

"Halstead. Have a seat," Commander Perry told the detective.

"I'll stand." Jay placed his hands on his hips.

"Okay then. Where were you last night after shift?"

"Home. Why?"

"So, you're telling me you didn't go out at all last night?"

"I started to drive home from work, but then I turned around because I thought my little sister might want Arby's for dinner. If you want to count a drive-thru as going out, then yes I went out."

"And after that?" Commander Perry prodded.

"Me and my sister watched the Hawks game and I was in bed by midnight."

Commander Perry picked up some black and white photos that were taken from traffic cam footage and held them out to Jay, pointing at specific a specific car. "This was taken last night, right as you pulled into that Arby's. That's Rodiger and that's you, right behind him."

"Okay, so I happened to be getting my takeout behind a pedophile. Maybe he just wanted some curly fries, Lord knows Y/N did when she stole some of mine last night."

"Halstead!" Voight barked. "This isn't a laughing matter! Now shut up and listen!"

Jay clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well, Detective, your alleged pedophile was found dead this morning."

"What?"

"So until this is straightened out, I suggest you find a better excuse than just watching a hockey game and eating fries with your impressionable little sister. Until then, you are officially stripped. Expect a call from Internal Affairs. They'll want to interview you as soon as possible."

"You mean they'll want to interrogate me as soon as possible."

"Jay!" Voight's voice boomed off the walls of the small office.

"I'm the one who wanted to stop that freak! And now I'm the target? Unbelievable!"

Jay flung open the door and was about to storm out when the Commander stopped him. "Halstead!"

"What? I tried to save my sister from this psycho because she saw him buy duct tape and rope and he knows that she saw him! So, excuse me for trying to make sure that my sister stays safe and doesn't end up like Ben Corson!"

"Y/N saw something?" Voight asked. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you."

"I told Antonio, but that's only because we were at Molly's when Y/N called me freaking out. And that's why she's staying with me because Lonnie knows where we live and I didn't want to get a call saying that my sister was murdered and--"

"Halstead, if that's the truth then this isn't just based on your word. We have a witness now. So, I'll talk to Detective Dawson and you go pick up your sister from school. We need her here for questioning. But, you are still stripped until we get this all sorted out."

***

"Can you please send Y/N Halstead to the office please?" the office secretary's voice came over your classroom intercom. "She'll be leaving for the rest of the day."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Leaving for the rest of the day? What? The last time you had to leave for the rest of the day unexpectedly was when your mom died.

"I'll send her down," your teacher replied.

"Alright, thank you." Then, she turned to you. "I'll have your missed work ready for you on Monday, Y/N, and I can email the other teachers you have today that you'll be missing their classes as well if you'd like?"

"That'd be great. Thank you."

"Have a great weekend, Y/N."

"Thank you. You too."

Then, you grabbed your books and made your way to your locker. Once you put everything you needed into your backpack, you made your way to the office. At least you were missing math and science class...you hated both of those subjects. Will got the brains when it came to those two.

But, your relief was short-lived when you saw Kim Burgess and Kevin Atwater standing in the office. You frantically pulled the door open. "Did something happen to Jay? Is he okay? Did he get hurt?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Kim quickly reassured you. "We just need to bring you down to the district is all."

"Why?" you asked, drawing out the word.

"It's better if your brother and Voight explain this to you. But, you are not in any trouble, Jay's not in any trouble, and he's fine," Kevin answered.

"Okay..."

They quickly signed you out and the three of you made your way to the parking lot where their squad car was parked. "Ever been in a patrol car, Y/N?" Kevin asked.

"No," you answered, opening the door to the backseat and throwing your backpack in.

"Well, today's your lucky day. We'll even let you control the music." The three of you got in and Kevin turned on the car and started fiddling with the controls on the radio. "Just tell me to stop when you hear a song you like."

***

"Jay!" you yelled as you ran up the stairs to Intelligence, your backpack bouncing up and down with every step you took. Jay walked out of the break room. You ran to him, narrowly missing Commander Perry. "What's going on? I didn't know I'd need to leave school and then Kim and Kevin came to pick me up and I thought you might be hurt but they said you weren't and--"

"Whoa, whoa," Jay cut you off. "Y/N, slow down. I'm okay. Everything's okay. Voight and Commander Perry here just need to ask you a couple of questions."

"But, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You're not in trouble, kid," Voight said. "Like your brother said, we just need to ask you a few questions and Jay will be with you the whole time."

Since neither Jay nor Voight could get ahold of your dad to get permission to talk to you, they had allowed Jay to sign off on it. And, since you were a minor, the person who signed that paperwork had to be in the room with you the entire time they were talking to you.

"You hungry?" Commander Perry asked as you sat down and Jay stood behind you. "You can grab a snack from the vending machine before we start if you'd like."

It was only 9:00 am. "No thank you," you replied. "I had breakfast a few hours ago and I'm still full from that. Thank you, though."

"You're welcome." He and Voight sat down across from you. "Now, you're probably wondering why you're here," Commander Perry started. "Your brother mentioned that you saw Lonnie Rodiger buy rope and duct tape?"

Your eyes widened and you drew in a breath. "Is he after me? Did he try and break into mine and Dad's house, Jay, because he was looking for me?"

"No, it's nothing like that," the commander interjected before you got worked up even more. "We just wanted to ask you what you saw is all."

You looked to Jay and he nodded, giving you the go-ahead to tell the two men what you had seen when you were walking home from school a few days ago. So, you did just that. You told them about walking home from school and seeing Lonnie with rope and duct tape and him seeing you.

"And you told your brother this?" Commander Perry asked.

"Uh, yeah, I wasn't going to tell him because I didn't want him to freak out or anything, but he always told me that if I saw anything off with Lonnie to tell him. And, I couldn't sleep that night, so I called him really late and he and Antonio came over."

"And what happened next?"

"Jay said that he wanted me to stay at his house until this all blew over because Lonnie saw me. He saw me. And, he knows where I live."

"So, Jay was trying to keep you safe?"

You nodded. "He's even been picking me up from school because he doesn't want me going home--to mine and my dad's place that is--to wait for him to pick me up after he's done with work. He's worried about me."

"Did he do anything else? Take you anywhere in the two days you've been staying with him?"

"No, nowhere other than school."

"Do anything fun?"

"He brought home Arby's last night and he let me stay up late and finish the Blackhawks game! Dad never lets me do that! And, they even won in overtime! And, I stole some of his curly fries."

"Do you know if he left last night after you went to bed?" Commander Perry asked.

"No, he didn't."

"And how can you be so sure about that? You were sleeping weren't you?"

Jay clenched his fists at his sides. You were a kid and this wasn't a trial, it was just getting a statement from you, not putting you on the witness stand.

"Jay never leaves me when he watches me at night. Never has and probably never will. Even when his girlfriend called when he watched me when I was little, he'd either make her come over to our house or would tell her that he was playing with me."

Voight chuckled at how you were spilling bits and pieces of Jay's life before he became a cop and entered his unit. He knew that Jay would never tell him these things, so it was funny hearing how protective and soft the big-shot detective of one of the most elite units of Chicago was with his little sister.

"Okay, thank you," Commander Perry said. "Do you know why we're asking you these questions?"

You shook your head, no.

"Halstead, you want to explain this. We'll butt in if needed," he said. He didn't know how much you knew about this alleged pedophile and murderer, so he figured it would be best to hand Jay the lead on the explanation portion.

Jay sat down in the chair next to you. "Y/N, you're not in trouble. I promise you that."

"You already told me that," you pointed out.

"I know, but I wanted to tell you again."

You furrowed your eyebrows and cocked your head to the side. "Then, why are they asking me questions about Lonnie and about you? Did he kill someone again? Like he did to Ben?"

Jay swallowed. He wasn't about to tell you the details of how someone murdered Lonnie Rodiger. Despite knowing the details of Ben's murder, you didn't need more gruesome pictures of murder in your teenage mind. "Um, Lonnie was found dead last night."

"And they think you did it, don't they?"

Jay's jaw dropped, all his years of being a stone-faced Army ranger and detective flying out the window as you quickly put the pieces together of why you were being talked to by his sergeant and commander. "What? How- Why would you assume that?"

"Dad's not good with turning his Law and Order down when he watches it at night so sometimes when I can't fall asleep, I'll listen to it and I'll hear the interrogation or trial scenes." You shrugged. Then, you turned your attention to Sergeant Voight and Commander Perry. "If you think my brother did it, I can tell you that he didn't because he was home with me all night. I even woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and he was asleep on the couch with his mouth open and he was drooling." You scrunched up your nose in disgust at Jay's sleeping position last night.

"Alright, Sergeant, your unit can investigate this one. But, Halstead, not that I don't believe your sister, but you're still stripped until this gets all sorted out. Go home."

Jay nodded. "C'mon, Y/N. We can go grab lunch or something."

Jay ushered you out of the break room and you grabbed your backpack. "Halstead, what's going on?" Antonio asked, catching you and Jay on your way down the stairs.

"Just, give this case hell for me, Antonio, will you?"

***

"Is it wrong?" you asked Jay when you were driving away from the district. "That I'm glad Lonnie's dead that is?"

Jay sighed. "Listen, I know we shouldn't be glad about someone being dead, but in all honesty, kid, I'm glad he's dead, too."

"Because the world's a safer place?"

"Yeah." And because justice was served for the Corson family, but I'm not gonna talk to my little sister about killing someone for justice...I don't need her to turn into the female version of Hank Voight in twenty years.

"So, were you and Mouse glad when you killed the bad guys over in Afghanistan?"

Oh no, no, no, no, no. I am not about to have this conversation with her. I'm not about to have this conversation with anyone for that matter, much less with my very impressionable, middle-schooler, little sister. "What do you want for lunch? Mcdonalds? Burger King? Wendy's? Pizza Hut?"

"You never answered my question," you told him.

"And you never answered mine. So, what do you want for lunch?"

"Hmmm...I really like the chicken alfredo from Pizza Hut, so can we go there?"

"Pizza Hut it is."

"What are you gonna get? Wait, lemme guess...meat lover's pizza?"

"And, you would be correct."

You arrived at Pizza Hut, which was only half a block away from the Corson's. And, since it was also so close to your school, some high school seniors would come here for lunch...not that you had an open campus at school, but they'd dip out for lunch and then get back unnoticed before their next class. You wondered if you'd be brave enough to do that in high school. You didn't know and you had a few more years until you got to that grade anyway.

"Hey Detective Halstead," a woman greeted Jay.

"Oh, hey Rachelle," Jay said as you both walked up to the counter at Pizza Hut. "How's school going?"

"It's going great actually. And who's this?" she asked, motioning to you.

"This is my little sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is one of my best CIs, Rachelle."

"You're a CI? That's so cool! So you help my brother solve cases? He never tells me about anything he does, so what do you help him with?"

Jay placed a hand on your shoulder. "That's confidential information, kiddo. And don't go blabbing about her being a CI either, because she could get in trouble."

"Got it. She's just someone I know from coming here so much. I have no idea what you're talking about, Jay."

Jay laughed. "Alright, what can I get started for you two?" Rachelle asked.

"Actually, since you're here, I have a quick question for you."

"Okay, let's go around back," she replied, thinking he was going to ask her if she knew anything that might help them with a case.

"No, it's nothing like that. I was just wondering if you'd watch Y/N for a bit while I go run a quick errand? It'd be for twenty, thirty minutes tops."

She looked around the restaurant, it was practically empty. "Yeah, no problem. I can keep an eye on her."

"Awesome thanks. And, uh, she'll have the chicken alfredo and I'll have the meat lover's pizza."

Rachelle rang it up and then told Jay the total. He pulled out his wallet and paid for their food, not without placing a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar. "You didn't have to do that," Rachelle said.

"You're watching Trouble here for a bit, so yeah, I do."

"I am not trouble!" you protested. "Where are you going anyway?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll be back soon."

"But--"

"Hey, Y/N. You want a chocolate chip cookie? I think they just came out of the oven." You frantically nodded your head up and down. "Well, c'mon back here and I'll grab it for you."

She opened the piece of the counter that flipped up and you walked through. Then, she motioned for Jay to leave before you pressed him for more answers on where he was going.

***

"To be honest, I don't feel any sympathy," Danny Corson told Jay as he sat at the kitchen table next to his wife with Jay across from him. "Do the police have any idea who did it?"

Jay had come to the Corson household to tell them the news that Lonnie Rodiger was dead...and to ask Danny some questions that would not go on record.

"We're still trying to piece that together." Jay turned to the red-haired woman. "Gail, do you have ay milk for this?" he asked, holding out his coffee cup."

"Oh, yeah. Let me get it for you," Gail answered.

"Thank you," Jay said to Gail's retreating back as she left the table. Jay turned back to Danny. "They suspended me. They think I did it. So, if you did something, Danny, I need you to tell me now so that we can figure this out together."

"Jay, I have been fantasizing about it for years, but I didn't do it. After all you've done for this family though, if you need me to confess, then I will."

"No, no you will not. I will not let you, or me for that matter, go down for something neither of us did."

"So, you have no idea who did it?"

"At the moment, no."

Jay's phone rang and he held up a finger to tell Danny he'd just be a second. But, then he looked at who was calling him and he practically froze.

"Jay, you okay?" Danny asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He accepted the call and placed his phone to his ear. "Rachelle? What's going on? Is Y/N okay?"

"Physically she's fine," she answered. "But, there's this guy yelling at her asking where you are and--"

"Tell me where he is! Your brother! My son is dead because of him!" Jay heard through the phone.

Phil Rodiger.

Jay drew in a breath. "I'm on my way."

He hung up and then turned to Danny and Gail. "I gotta go, I'm sorry. If I find out anything, you'll be the first to know." And then he ran out the door and ran as fast as he ever has to the Pizza Hut half a block away.

***

"He didn't do it!" you yelled. "He was home with me all night!"

"Yeah right! He probably told you to say that!"

"Y/N! Don't say another word!" Jay sprinted over to the booth where you were sitting, your pasta halfway eaten.

"You! You killed him!"

"Phil, we're in a public place. The cops can get called for a disturbance." Jay flicked his eyes to Rachelle and she nodded, picking up her phone.

"Fine! Then let them call the cops! I'll tell them that you killed him! You killed my son!"

He took a step closer to the side of the booth that you were sitting in and Jay quickly placed himself between you and Lonnie Rodiger's father. "You know what? I may have not killed him, but whoever did, did everyone in this world a real favor! Killing a pedophile and a murderer? I'd like to give the guy who killed your sick-ass bastard of a son a medal when they find him!"

"Jay!" you yelled, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it so that he would turn his attention back to you.

"Y/N, this is grown-up stuff. Butt out!" He turned back to Phil. "Lonnie brought this on himself and you know it!"

You saw a few people from the Intelligence Unit walking up to the building out of the corner of your eye. "Jay, shut the hell up!"

"You killed him!"

"For the last time, I didn't kill your sorry excuse for a son!"

"Police! Break it up!"

Jay was yanked away from you by none other than Antonio Dawson. Adam and Voight had each grabbed one of Phil's shoulders to keep him at bay. Erin knelt in front of you.

"Are you alright, Y/N?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"What the hell, Halstead?" Antonio yelled.

"Wre're taking you in," Voight told Phil Rodiger.

"Am I under arrest?"

"No, we just have some questions about last night we want to ask you is all. Why? Should you be under arrest?"

"No, but he should! I know you did it--"

"We'll talk to him," Voight said. "Don't you worry about that." He turned to Antonio. "You and Lindsay got this, bro?"

"Yeah, we got this," Antonio answered.

Voight nodded and then he and Ruzek escorted Phil Rodiger out of the building.

Antonio waited until Voight's car was safely out of the parking lot, before trying to lead Jay out of the building.

"Dude, I don't need a police escort. I can drive my car back home just fine," Jay protested.

"Jay, just come on. Or do I need to put you in cuffs?" He pulled his handcuffs out of his pocket and allowed them to dangle off his pointer finger.

"Tony, not here," Erin warned. "Not with Y/N watching."

You gasped. They weren't going to arrest Jay, were they? No, they wouldn't. They couldn't.

"Let's just go out to the car," Antonio said.

Once you were all in the car, Antonio driving, Erin in the passenger seat, and you and Jay in the back, did Jay finally address the elephant in the room...or, well, the elephant in the car. "Just so we're clear, I didn't kill Lonnie Rodiger. If I was gonna kill him, I would've done it the night he raped and murdered an eleven-year-old Ben Corson! I was this close, too!"

Your breath caught in your throat. You had assumed he had been raped, hell you had heard Jay talk about it with Gail and Danny, once with your dad, when they thought you were too far out of earshot to hear or thought that you were asleep. But, hearing Jay say it out loud, right in front of you, made it more real than hearing it when you weren't supposed to. And, hearing Jay say that had thoughts about killing Lonnie before...you didn't know how to feel about that. You had wanted him dead, just like Jay had (and how the Corson's probably did as well) but you never thought Jay would actually admit to wanting to kill him, much less say that he had been close to doing it.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm sorry I never told you about that," Jay said, his voice much quieter now. "I just, I didn't know how to tell you and you were ten, so you shouldn't have even known what rape was and I didn't want to explain it to you under those circumstances--"

"I knew," you told him.

"What?" he gasped as he furrowed his eyebrows. "How?"

"I heard you talking to the Corson's once when you thought I couldn't hear you and once when you were talking to Dad when you both thought that I was asleep."

"Well, either way, I'm sorry you had to hear it from me like this. And, I'm sorry he had to go through that."

"Me too," you whispered.

Erin leaned back and handed Jay a file folder. He raised an eyebrow.

"Lonnie Rodiger's homicide file," Antonio told him. "If anyone asks, no ones knows how you got that."

"That goes for you, too, Y/N. As far as you're concerned, you don't know what a homicide file is."

"What's homicide?" you joked. "I don't even know what that is."

"Works for me," Erin said as Jay flipped open the file.

***

"What'd he say? Jay asked, cornering Antonio in the locker room.

"Not here," Antonio told him and led him to the basement.

Once the two detectives were safely in the basement, Antonio let Jay in on the statement that Phil Rodiger had just given the Intelligence Unit about Lonnie Rodiger's murder.

"Can I run something by you?" Jay asked.

"Shoot."

"So, Phil Rodiger gives his statement, and he says...that his son never came home that night," Jay took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't going to get in trouble for saying this. "But I know he did. I may have not gone straight to my apartment after I got takeout for me and Y/N before we watched the Hawks game together."

"I'll talk to Voight. But, I think Y/N needs some help with homework, so go be the good big brother and do that." Antonio clapped Jay on the back and then started up the stairs.

***

"We're good to go," Antonio told him. "But, we got a problem."

"Which is?" Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They kicked him."

"The hell do you mean they kicked him?"

"I mean, they don't think he did it. But, Jin's getting a location on him." Antonio's phone binged. "And here is that location. Erin, you riding with me? Halstead will follow. I got the photos."

Erin picked up her coat. "Ruzek, watch the kid, okay?"

"You got it," he answered, walking over to the break room.

"Ruz, please do not corrupt my sister."

"I'm hurt Jay, really. That hurt, man," he joked.

The three detectives left the district and made their way to a bar where Phil Rodiger was sitting and drinking alone. The three had agreed that only Jay should go in so that he wouldn't get spooked and try to run off.

Jay entered the bar and took a seat next to Phil. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but started Jay on his reasoning anyway. "In the statement you gave the detectives, you said that you didn't see Lonnie after 10:00 pm, that he went for a drive and he never came back." Jay placed a photo on the bar in front of Phil. "I was following Lonnie that night, and not long after these pictures were taken, I watched him walk into your house. Lonnie got tired of hunting, so he went home. And according to the time of death, he was killed an hour after I took this photo." Phil Rodiger just stared at the photo as Jay turned his attention away from it and onto Phil. "Your son wasn't killed in the park, was he?"

Phil stood up and brought his face close to Jay's. "You got no idea what you're talking about."

Then, he started to walk away, but Jay got up and followed him. Jay was pretty sure his cop instincts were right once again. "Phil, where you going?" Jay paused and looked at him. Phil was looking at the floor and avoiding eye contact the way only a guilty man would. "You killed him."

"He was sick."

Yeah, we all knew that. Took you long enough, Jay thought to himself.

Then, Erin and Antonio rushed in and put Phil in cuffs.

***

Half an hour later, Jay was standing in front of the one-way window with Voight, watching Erin do her thing in the interrogation room.

"I found some pictures on his computer," Phil told Erin. "Boys, same age as the Corson kid. Then I- I confronted him."

"How did you kill Lonnie?" Erin asked, straight to the point. The faster this got straightened out, the faster Jay'd get his badge and gun back.

"We fought. I picked up a belt, and I just- I just kept choking him." Phil tried to keep the tears back, but he couldn't. What kind of father would kill their own son? But then again, most fathers didn't have sons who were monsters.

"And then you dropped his body in the park?"

"Yes."

Jay walked out of the interrogation room the minute he heard those words. He knew Voight had heard the same things he had. So, when Voight motioned for Jay to step into his office, this time, Jay didn't hesitate.

Voight pulled open a drawer and grabbed Jay's badge and gun. "Good to have you back."

"Thanks, Sarge."

"Now, go and get your sister out of here. I think she's bored out of her mind."

Jay chuckled and clipped his badge onto his jeans and holstered his gun. "His dad did it?" you asked, exiting the break room.

"How did you know that?"

"Ruzek told me!"

"Dude! I told you not to corrupt her!"

"Technically, I didn't corrupt her. I told her the truth," he defended.

"Fine, whatever. Mind giving us a ride so we can go get my car back from Pizza Hut?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"I call shotgun!" you yelled and started to race down the stairs.

"No fair!" Jay exclaimed as he chased after you.

***

You and Jay were crouched in front of Ben's grave, the flowers you had planted four days ago brightening the dismal place up a bit. "They got him, Ben, they got him," you explained. "Jay almost got in trouble for it, but it turns out that Lonnie's dad did it." You paused as if waiting for Ben's reaction. You knew he would be saying something along the lines of no way where he was. "I know, no way, right?"

"You okay?" Jay asked as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

You had stopped talking after you asked that rhetorical question. You had no idea what to say now. Ben was still gone.

"I guess it doesn't feel as good as I thought it would," you said, turning your attention to Jay. "It's as if I thought that finding who did this would bring Ben back. I feel relief, but that's it."

"Hey, no matter what you're feeling, it's okay. The way this went down today and the past few days don't matter. We got justice for Ben and that's all that matters. You got justice for Ben. You were the one who saw Lonnie with that rope and duct tape and told me. You were the reason this entire case got off the ground."

"Really?"

"Really," Jay confirmed.

"Well, at least it's justice."

"At least it's justice," Jay echoed.

A/N: Thank you for the amazing feedback on the first installment of this series I posted a few days ago! Your comments really got me motivated to write this one! But, I have some bad news, which is that since I have exams in a week and a half, I won't be posting for at least two weeks, probably closer to two and a half.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and please vote and comment! Reading your comments really gets me motivated to write...even though the next chapter will have to wait a while since I have exams.

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07

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