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rosepetalgold · 7 months

Text

the art of saying goodbye

Summary: Remus expects a lot of things from the Queen Anne Victorian house he’s just purchased—a restoration project to occupy his time, some peace and quiet from nosy neighbors, a chance to brag about being a homeowner before his goody two-shoes brother.

What he doesn’t expect is for the property to come with a very real, very curious ghost. But what is he supposed to do, just ignore the spirit? That'd be nothing short of rude, especially considering that the specter's fascination with modern science and penchant for hijacking Remus' technology proves unfairly endearing.

But even as their unlikely friendship grows, so too do the questions swirling in Remus’ mind: Why is Logan still haunting the place he used to live? Who is the mysterious Janus he refuses to talk about? And what will it take for the ghost to finally find peace with the life and the love that were stolen from him so long ago?

Relationships: Platonic Intrulogical, past romantic Loceit, background romantic Prinxiety

Warnings for this chapter: None!

Word Count: 7000

Notes: My fic for this year's @sandersidesbigbang, aka another angsty tale that inexplicably grew out of a single fluffy scene, aka a prime excuse to procrastinate by poring through countless photos of beautiful Queen Anne houses my beloved. I hope you enjoy this ghostie story as much I enjoyed writing it! A big shoutout to my wonderful beta reader @dragonsaphirareads for all their feedback on this fic, and don't miss the amazing art by the incredible @casart and @onthevirgeofdestruction—you can check out their pieces here and here! (Seriously, even if you don't read the fic, go feast your eyes on their work because it is straight-up stunning. Go look, you'll see.)

Read on Ao3 Masterpost

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“This place is definitely haunted.”

Remus snorts, giving his brother a friendly sock in the arm.

“Oh come on, Ro, you scared of a few ghosties now? Afraid a floating white sheet is gonna jump out and yell boo?”

Roman doesn’t answer, just eyes the Queen Anne Victorian home in front of them with the amount of trepidation he usually reserved for any time Remus started a sentence with ‘I have an idea.’ The house does give off distinctly spooky vibes, Remus has to admit, what with its boards in desperate need of a new coat of paint and its broken window in the attic, not to mention the porch that looks liable to send someone plummeting to the ground if they take a single wrong step, but what was wrong with any of that? It all just added to the building’s character, and the risk of falling through the veranda was a delightful way to keep visitors on their toes, in his superior opinion.

And besides, he couldn’t turn his nose up at the property’s many flaws when they made it dirt-cheap. He wasn’t exactly a millionaire.

He grabs Roman’s arm, tugging him forward.

“C’mon, there’s some wicked spindlework on the back you gotta check out.”

His brother makes a sound of protest, dragging his feet as Remus hauls him onward.

“Aren’t we going to go inside?”

“Nah, I don’t have the keys yet. Everything’s still pending or whatever.”

Roman shifts his incredulous gaze from the house to Remus.

“You made me come all this way just to look at the outside of a house you haven’t even officially bought yet?”

Why yes, he had. He was such a good brother.

“Don’t act like it’s such a burden to drive twenty minutes out of the way to get here, especially when it means you’re twenty minutes closer to a booty call with Virgil.”

Roman splutters, face flushing a splendidly scandalized shade of crimson, and Remus cackles. That was more like it.

“Now c’mon c’mon c’mon, the sooner you ooh and aah over all my cool house shit, the sooner you can get some of that good di—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Roman interrupts, slapping his hands over his ears, but he doesn’t protest as Remus pulls him around to the back of the house and points out the expansive if overgrown backyard, the plethora of decorative elements adorning the home, the leaded glass windows that have survived well over a century.

“I don’t get it, though,” Roman says as he eyes the tower gracing the corner of the house, something Remus would swear is a hint of jealousy in his gaze. Made sense. He knows for a fact his brother would sell his soul to be Rapunzel. “If this is such a nice place, why has it sat empty for so long?”

“Dunno. The realtor just said it stayed in the family of the guy who built it for a while before changing hands a bunch. Apparently every time it’s been on the market it’s taken ages to find a buyer, but she didn’t really say why no one wanted to live here for too long.” Probably just her trying not to scare him away from what was clearly a substantial restoration project so she wouldn’t lose her commission. Either that or there was some kind of toxic fungus in the walls that had taken over all the previous residents’ brains and turned them into zombies and Remus was about to become its next victim.

What a delightful gamble to find out which one it was.

“Can we please go now before some serial killer comes charging out of this place and we both end up on the news?” Roman asks, already edging back towards the front of the house.

“Sure, if you really want to give up your one shot of having your fifteen minutes of fame in the media,” Remus replies, dancing away with a grin as Roman aims a kick at his shins. “Fine, fine, we’ll go. I wouldn’t want to keep you from a hot date and some—”

Something catches his attention, a flash of movement out of the very corner of his eye, and he pauses mid-stride, doing a double-take at the second-story balcony overlooking the backyard.

Nothing. Not even a curtain blowing in the non-existent breeze.

“What?” Roman questions from where he’s also stopped a few yards ahead of him.

Remus looks a moment longer, searching for anything out of place, but all is still.

“Nothing. Probably just a bat or something. Wouldn’t that be cool as shit, to have bats as roommates? Hey, maybe they have rabies if they’re out in the daytime. Did you know…”

He launches into a spiel of the most gruesome and fascinating facts he knows about the disease, joyfully watching his brother’s face grow increasingly horrified with each one as they make their way back across the yard, and by the time they reach the driveway, the flicker of movement is barely a blip on his mental radar.

Just a trick of his eyes, surely.

It wasn’t like houses could actually be haunted, after all.

---

Home sweet home.

Or home rundown-and-slightly-musty-smelling home, as the case may be, but who was Remus to nitpick?

He fits his shiny new key into the lock and steps inside, letting the door click shut solidly behind him as he pauses just over the threshold, taking a moment to survey the foyer. His foyer now, in his very own home. The sale had been endless offers and counteroffers and a mountain of paperwork so large he’s positive he could have buried himself beneath it and never been seen again, but the place is finally his.

Him, a homeowner. Who’d have thunk it. He’ll be rubbing this in Roman’s apartment-renting face every chance he can get, thank you very much. It’s the least he can do, really.

He unceremoniously deposits the cardboard box in his arms on the floor and wanders further inside, trailing his hand along the smooth wood of the stair banister as he passes. He’s supposed to be meeting some of his friends back at his old place shortly—or now, actually, but that was wholly irrelevant—to start moving all of his worldly possessions into his fancy new abode, but he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of taking the first load of boxes alone just to have the place to himself for a bit; he could use a few minutes to enjoy the space in peace before it’s filled with Roman and Virgil squabbling about the worst Disney movie heroes or whatever argument they were bound to get into.

Despite its well-worn exterior, the house is in surprisingly good condition inside, he muses as he roams through the empty rooms. There’s clearly extensive work that needs to be done if he wants to restore the place to its Victorian glory, an ambitious undertaking he knows will be neither cheap nor easy, but the bones of the structure are all solid, especially considering how many years it’s stood empty.

He finishes his meandering loop around the first floor and heads up the stairs, the tread of his steps entirely too loud for the pervasive quiet as he continues his exploratory wandering through the second story rooms. He pauses as he reaches what is clearly the master bedroom, surveying the original fireplace, the century-old hardwood, the attached balcony that was just begging to be used to pour water onto his unsuspecting brother’s head. Shit, his new house was cool as fuck.

It’d make the most sense to start hauling his load of boxes here, considering that’s where most of his crap is going to end up eventually, but the longer he hovers in the doorway, the more something feels … off. Just the slightest tingle prickling down his spine, and not the good kind. He steps inside and the temperature drops noticeably, a chill raising the hair on his arms.

“The fuck?” he mutters, raking his gaze over the windows in search of damaged panes letting in a breeze, but everything is intact.

He advances another step on impulse and the pinpricks dancing along his vertebrae only grow stronger, now accompanied by the distinct feeling he’s being watched. He scans the room again, slower this time, but there’s no furniture, no closet, not so much as a nook or cranny for anyone or anything to hide. Even the ceiling is empty when he turns his gaze upwards on the off chance he really does have some bats hanging around that he’s somehow missed on his numerous pre-sale walk-throughs.

Nary a beady eye to be found and still the sensation of being in someone’s sights doesn’t lessen. Not that it’s a threatening feeling, exactly, just distinctly unsettling, like there’s someone behind him no matter how many times he glances over his shoulder and finds nothing but empty air.

But that was crazy. He’d read the final sale documents until his eyes had been about to start bleeding and he’s absolutely positive that the house hadn’t come with any roommates. He’s probably just imagining the feeling, the result of watching one too many horror movies in the last week or his brain making things up in an attempt to liven up the empty space.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, yanking him out of his thoughts, and he rolls his eyes without even looking at the screen, already able to see the text from Roman in his mind’s eye: where you at?? i’m not packing up all your crap for you followed by an absurdly long string of emojis that basically constituted their own Roman-specific hieroglyphic language.

Time to face the moving-day music before Roman got annoyed enough with waiting that he rescinded his promise of free manual labor, then. Any investigations of potential invisible voyeurs would have to wait, no matter how titillating such a prospect sounded when he put it like that.

“You win for now, house,” he says into the quiet as he turns to leave, an edge of coldness still dancing along the goosebumps on his skin. “Keep your secrets. I’ll figure ‘em out eventually.”

---

The afternoon passes in a blur of hauling entirely too many heavy boxes and unwieldy pieces of furniture to the new house, and by the time night settles onto the horizon, Remus is utterly exhausted. He flops back on the couch, too tired to even think about putting his bedframe together, and he’s out in minutes.

He wakes disoriented, mind scrabbling blankly for a moment before the darkness coalesces into the still-unfamiliar contours of his sitting room. He just lies there for a moment, trying to figure out what’s roused him, but all is still. Just his brain deciding to deprive him of some tantalizingly horrifying nightmares, unfortunately—

Tap tap tap.

Remus bolts upright at the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the hardwood upstairs, adrenaline surging in a dizzying rush. There hadn’t been any signs of a squatter all day, and surely he’d remembered to lock the doors so no one could steal all the crap he’d just spent a whole day of his life lugging around. He waits for a moment, holding his breath as silence falls, and just when he’s about to pass the whole thing off as his imagination playing tricks on him, the steps start up again, slow and rhythmic like someone is pacing on the upper level.

Fuck his luck. If someone is secretly living in the attic of his fancy new home, he’s not going to be pleased.

He rolls off the couch and snatches his phone off of one of the plethora of boxes waiting to be unpacked, debating whether to risk turning on the flashlight before deciding for it; he might give away any element of surprise with the beam, but he’s certain to give it away if he starts banging face-first into walls or cracking his skull open falling down the stairs. His eye catches on a glass paperweight on the coffee table, a characteristically pretentious housewarming present from Roman, who apparently thought Remus had so many papers flying about that he needed to corral them with a glorified rock, and he seizes it on a whim.

Makeshift weapon was a much more useful purpose for the thing than its intended function anyways.

He edges around the scattered boxes towards the stairs, careful to keep his steps light and his hand shielding the light from his phone as the footfalls continue overhead, and makes it all the way up the steps without so much as a creak to give him away.

Flawless. He knew all those times sneaking up behind Roman to scare the shit out of him as kids would pay off someday.

He pauses on the landing to triangulate the noise, then creeps down the hall towards the footsteps as the sound grows even more distinct. The master bedroom again? What the actual fuck was going on with that room? Had he really managed to miss someone in there when he’d investigated earlier in the day? No, he couldn’t have, but then how had someone managed to get past where he’d been sleeping on the couch? Unless he really did have somebody living in the walls—

A floorboard squeaks underneath his foot, deafeningly loud in the quiet of the night, and the footsteps abruptly stop. Remus swears under his breath. Traitorous piece of wood. Now or never, then.

He lunges forward into the doorway of the master bedroom, raising the paperweight and howling a war cry as he swings his light across the room to reveal—

Nothing. The space is as entirely and utterly empty as it had been that morning.

Well, shit. There went any element of surprise he had left.

He darts back into the hall, racing to search through the rest of the rooms on the upper level one by one, but they’re all just as vacant as the first. He even hauls himself into the attic, bracing himself to be clubbed over the head by whoever is lurking, but with the exception of innumerable shadows billowing away from his flashlight, the space proves equally empty as the rest.

Unease stirs in his gut, creeping in alongside the lingering adrenaline as he makes his way back down the precariously rickety ladder into the main house. Surely there’s no way someone could have gotten past him, not when he would have heard them in the hall or going down the stairs.

And yet, as far as he can tell, besides a few mice tucked away in the attic, there isn’t another living soul in the house.

He stops in the doorway of the master bedroom again, staring inside. He’s positive this is where the footsteps had been emanating from, lack of proof be damned. Something weird was going on with this house.

Good thing Remus had just made the biggest financial commitment of his life to buy it.

Nothing for it now but to hope some elusive, wall-dwelling ax murderer doesn’t give him the chop in his sleep, he supposes, although he has to admit that’d be a badass way to go.

He reluctantly makes his way back downstairs and shoves a pile of boxes at the foot of the stairs to trip any nefarious intruders coming down, then retreats back to the couch, all the while keeping his ears primed for so much as a whisper of sound above him.

But even though it takes him a long time to drift back to sleep, the house around him remains as silent as a grave.

---

The whole thing must have been an impressively lucid dream, Remus decides the next morning. A second investigation in the light of day doesn’t reveal anything out of place: no shoe prints on the floor, no critters, certainly no people. It was probably nothing then, he tries to convince himself, just his overactive imagination needing an outlet after being a bit too jittery from all the excitement of moving.

But he finds himself pausing in the master bedroom again, something drawing him back to the space. First the chill and the strange feeling of being watched, then the mysterious footsteps? Two separate coincidences, or something more?

God, he sounded about as paranoid as Virgil. Next thing he knew he was going to be inventing his very own conspiracy theory to explain a few bumps in the night.

It really was nothing, he tells himself, shaking off any lingering unease as he tromps back down the stairs. If he starts jumping at every little noise in his old-as-shit house, he’ll be long dead before he gets the property restored. If he starts seeing glowing red eyes in the dark, he’ll start to worry. Until then, he has a mountain of boxes to unpack.

Unfortunately, said mountain does not pull a Beauty and the Beast and begin unpacking itself, leaving Remus to spend a dreadfully dull afternoon doing it instead, only the allure of building a fort out of all the empty boxes keeping him from living out of cardboard for the rest of his life.

By the time he’s finally finished unboxing most of the downstairs and getting the tv and wifi set up, most of the day has passed him by, afternoon sunlight splaying golden fingers across the hardwood.

Break time, then. He’s earned it, if he does say so himself.

He collapses onto the couch, flipping on the tv and surfing through the channels until he finds a rerun of some low-budget horror film from the eighties. Perfect. Nothing like a bit of mindless tv to rot his brain just that much more. Settling back more comfortably into the cushions, he pops open the bag of chips he’s snagged from the kitchen and pulls out his phone, beginning to scroll through his notifications.

Modern multitasking at its finest, truly.

But he’s barely a minute into atrophying his mind via social media before the tv starts flickering, volume dropping precipitously before ratcheting back up, the picture jumping to the weather channel, then a British cooking show, then the news with Spanish subtitles flashing in and out at the bottom of the screen.

Remus freezes with a chip halfway to his mouth, staring at the remote where it’s very definitely out of his reach on the coffee table, all by its lonesome. He’s no expert, but he’s pretty sure technology was not, in fact, supposed to suddenly start functioning by itself without any human input. Was his new house secretly sitting over some freaky radioactive waste? That would certainly explain why no one had wanted to buy it. Or was this some EMP disaster? Had someone decided to take out the whole country’s power grid, starting with Remus’ shitty tv?

He sits up, reaching for the rogue remote, only to pause as a chill moves over him, then past him like it’s heading for the tv, and the screen crackles, static beginning to fuzz both the video and the audio as the picture continues to leap wildly between programs.

Fuck the remote, then. Whatever freak accident has descended upon his living room, it’s time to go straight to the source.

Abandoning his snack, he stands, striding to the outlet and yanking the plug out of the wall. Silence falls immediately, the screen fading to black, but there still lingers a noticeable chill in the air, cold energy palpable against his skin and all too reminiscent of the feeling he remembers from being in the master bedroom.

“What the hell,” he mutters under his breath, casting his gaze around the room. Empty, just as upstairs had been the last three times he’d checked. He takes a step backwards, then another, and the strange chill decreases. On a whim, he pulls out his phone, scrolling through several apps without even paying attention to them, and sure enough, the hair on his arms raises as the temperature falls again, that sparking feeling of energy growing more intense as his phone begins to flicker on its own.

“What the actual hell,” he whispers again. Roman can’t have been right—this place can’t actually be haunted. There’s absolutely no way there’s a real, live—or dead, technically, he supposes—ghost in his living room right now playing fuck-up-the-electronics.

But if there is…

“Hello?” he calls, and the flickering abruptly stops, chill retreating once more. Shit. One word in and apparently Remus has already fucked things up. “Hello?” he tries again. Did this maybe-possible-potential ghostie even speak English? “I’m Remus,” he says, feeling more than a little crazy for introducing himself to his empty living room. If Roman ever knew of this, he’d die laughing and then Remus really would have a ghost haunting his ass.

He wracks his brain for something to say. If he were a ghost and a stranger started moving all of their shit into his home, what would he want to hear from them?

“Um, cool house you have here. I’m not gonna like, fuck it up or anything.”

Silence.

“I’m planning on restoring it bit by bit as I have money so if you could tell me the original paint color or wallpaper patterns, that’d be dope.”

Still nothing. Apparently the ghost is not amused. Time for a different tactic, then.

“What’s your name?”

Not even a cricket chirping. Jesus fucking christ, Remus is really blowing this.

“That’s the tv—the television,” he explains, gesturing towards the device that had seemingly either fascinated or enraged his new housemate, he can’t quite tell which. “It works by… well, I don’t really know how it works. Something with waves and frequencies or some shit? But you can watch recordings, people acting or baking or doing dumb reality dating shows or whatever, so if there’s something that you wanna see…”

He trails off, surreptitiously scanning the room for any ethereal presences, but the house is quiet, the ghostly feeling fading bit by bit. Great. An actual paranormal experience and he’s gone and shoved his foot so far in his mouth he can practically feel his toes wiggling in his small intestine.

“Alright, that’s cool, no worries. Just lemme know if you change your mind.”

He waits a moment more, hoping for a disembodied voice to speak or an object to start moving on its own or his body to suddenly become possessed, but there’s nothing. Snagging his leather jacket off the back of the couch, he beelines for the door, forcing himself not to run as excitement begins to grow with every step, bubbling up around his bones. He has a ghost. A ghost, an actual fucking ghost, and he hadn’t even had to pay extra for it. No way he’s not going to take advantage of the universe handing him the sickest housewarming present in the world, never mind the fact that he might end up a walking meat suit for the spirit.

He pauses as he reaches the edge of the yard, then thinks better of it and pivots, heading for his car instead. Who knew how far ghost range was, and he doesn’t want his new roomie overhearing. He’s practically vibrating with energy as he makes his way down the long, winding drive, and he only makes it a few miles down the road before he’s pulling over onto the shoulder, hopefully well out of spirit range.

His first call rings through to voicemail, but Remus doesn’t bother leaving a message, just hangs up and tries again, only to be met with the same result. The third time, though, proves to be the charm.

“What,” the voice on the other end spits, cheerful as ever. “Fuck you, Remus, I’m in the middle of—”

“You’re still into all that weird stuff, right? Like the cryptids and the creepies and the ghouls and ghosties and all that?” Remus interrupts. He can deal with Virgil’s wrath another time—he has information he needs and he needs it pronto.

A pause, so long he’s sure Virgil has hung up on him and he’s going to have to keep calling until the emo answers his question.

“Yeah?” the distrustful reply finally comes, anger blunted by obvious wariness. “Why—”

“I need to pick your brain,” Remus cuts in again. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

---

Plan Contact The Resident Possibly Unfriendly Ghost Who Might Possess Him, or CTRPUGWMPH to be short and snappy about it, is officially a go.

Unfortunately, it isn’t off to a promising start.

Virgil’s knowledge had turned out to be more spirit lore than specifics about how to get a ghost to actually appear, although he’d been infinitely more helpful than Roman, who’d just stared at him and asked if he’d had the house checked for carbon monoxide poisoning. Remus had soundly ignored him and had left Virgil’s apartment with his head swimming with theories about why ghosts haunt particular places and an extensive lecture from Virgil about how to find any potential objects or reasons tying a ghost to the house that might provide a potential talking point to engage said ghost in conversation.

But despite digging into every crack and crevice on the internet, emailing the local historical society, even calling his realtor to ask again about the history of the property, Remus comes up with precious little. The house had originally been built in the 1880s by a local merchant, everyone seems to agree, and had been inherited by his nephew soon after, but beyond that there’s frustratingly scant information available, and he can’t find so much as a whisper about anyone dying in the home. His ghostie could be anyone, then: A Victorian builder who’d taken a tumble, a flapper girl who’d partied a tad too hard, a hapless victim of some modern serial killer who’d taken advantage of the place sitting abandoned for years to do a bit of light murdering.

With precisely zero context clues as to his new housemate’s identity, then, Remus embraces his remarkable talent of keeping up an entirely one-sided conversation as he works around the house the next few days, rambling about anything and everything related to the property he can think of, hoping something will pique the ghost’s interest. But besides a few more cold spots and flickering screens, the house remains stubbornly quiet. Maybe his ghost just needed a bit of help in communicating, though; drifting around an empty building with no one to talk to for the past god-knew-how-many years can’t have done good things to their incorporeal vocal cords.

Which brings him to Plan B: The infamous Ouija board, favorite tool of grifters and bullshit paranormalists everywhere.

And yet despite the makeshift, very high-budget seance he conducts with the two dollar board and the zero dollar candles he’s lovingly stolen from his brother, there’s once again no reply from beyond the veil besides a chill in the room that somehow radiates disapproval. Apparently his ghost isn’t a fan of pseudoscientific games any more than he is. At least they had standards, whoever they were.

But Remus is a stubborn bastard if he does say so himself, so on to Plan C it is. The used EMF meter he snags off of ebay has definitely seen better days, given the prominent crack across its screen, but the thing had been cheap and still seemed to work, so Remus wasn’t complaining. Fancy equipment was for fancy people, after all, and of all the things he’s ever been called, he’s positive fancy isn’t one of them. He sets up the device behind the tv, which still seems to intrigue his ghost every time it’s turned on, puts on the first show he can find, and forces himself to walk away. His little trap is set. Now all he has to do is bide his time pretending to busy himself unpacking a box of books in the next room—

He barely has the chance to register the tv screen flickering out of the corner of his eye before an ear-splitting shriek is rending the air, startling him so violently that he promptly drops a hefty tome on his foot.

“Shit,” he breathes, surging back into the living room, but the noise has already stopped just as suddenly as it began, replaced by a frigid chill permeating the room. Maybe he should have thought twice about scaring the resident phantom without first hiding any of his valuables. Hopefully he won’t wake up tomorrow to find his tv shattered. “It won’t hurt you,” he calls, though the EMF meter indicates a distinct lack of any supernatural presences. “It just makes noise to let me know when you’re nearby, yeah? Totally harmless.”

No response, but for once he doesn’t mind, not when there’s excitement dancing white-hot across his nerves. There really is a ghost or spirit or demon or something here, and he hasn’t just been imagining things.

Fuck, this house is single-handedly the coolest thing that’s ever happened to him, even if he does now have to worry about his haunting buddy getting a bit of revenge on him in the middle of the night.

But Remus survives safe and sound into the next day without so much as a supernatural scratch on his skin. Bloody payback didn’t seem like his ghost’s style anyways, not when their favorite activity seemed to be pressing as many buttons as possible on the tv remote at once. Curiosity is still nipping impatiently at his heels though, urging him to explore this latest avenue of potential communication more, so he sets up the EMF meter again, this time in the master bedroom where the spirit seems most inclined to spend time if the continued pacing in the middle of the night is anything to go by.

A brilliant plan, only minorly ruined by the fact that the device is nowhere to be found when he goes searching for it the next morning.

“Are you disappearing things, ghostie?” he asks the empty bedroom. “Gonna zap me into another dimension next?”

He’s joking, but as his hunt through the house reveals neither hide nor hair of the EMF meter, he can’t help but wonder. Had the ghost really just yeeted the thing into the ether? Or maybe it was right where he’d left it in the middle of the bedroom, but had been turned invisible like the spirit themself? What kind of ghostly superpowers did he even have, if any—

He comes to an abrupt halt as he emerges out the back door onto the porch, a laugh spilling past his lips as he surveys the myriad bits of metal and broken plastic strewn around him. Looks like he’s found his EMF meter. Apparently his ghost wasn’t nearly as endeared to this technology as he was anything with a screen. He glances up to the master bedroom window over his head, shading his eyes from the sun.

“Fair enough,” he calls, still fighting down amusement despite himself, and there’s the faintest shimmer in the air above the balcony, reminiscent of a heat mirage despite the cool morning air. “No more screeching little boxes.”

Left with zero information about his ghost’s identity, a useless Ouija board better repurposed as a doorstop, and the remains of his one piece of official ghost-hunting equipment, Remus concludes his only option is to embark on Plan D. Said plan isn’t so much an strategic approach as it is a wild hail mary to find any way to communicate with his ghost that didn’t involved hurling objects from balconies, as much fun as such an activity was, but then again, Plan D did sound delightfully dirty, so he’ll take the trade-off.

The internet, of course, is the place to turn to for highly questionable ghost advice, and it only takes a single google search to find message boards teeming with it. Half of it is clearly bullshit, he quickly discovers as he trawls through post after useless post, and the other half is baseless theories without any semblance of evidence to back them up, but just as he’s about to call it quits and move on to whatever the hell Plan E is, an old thread catches his eye.

‘Old Ghost Caught By Photography?’ the title reads, and Remus skims through the post, intrigued despite himself at the detailed claims the author had been able to capture the image of a Victorian spirit by using an antique camera and photography methods from the end of the nineteenth century. He pores over the attached images, searching for the slightest hint of photoshop or manipulation, but everything seems legit. And it made sense in some weird, probably illogical way, he supposes, that ghosts might only be spotted by using technology from their day and age—historical continuity in the metaphysical realm or some shit.

It’s the best lead he has after hours of searching, and really, he’s just spent a very hefty chunk of change buying a whole-ass house; what was the harm in dropping a few more dollars on some vintage photography equipment?

Which is precisely how he finds himself crammed into his makeshift darkroom in the tiny closet under the stairs several weeks later, holding his breath as he carefully begins to look through the latest batch of negatives he’s just finished processing. It had taken an obscene amount of research, a healthy dose of trial-and-error, and more than a few failures to figure out the intricacies of the dry plate photography process, but he’d gotten there in the end, even if the most he has to show for it is a few suspicious blurs in a couple of images.

Maybe this whole idea of capturing ghosts in photos was just as bullshit as the others, he muses as he examines yet another empty picture of the dining room, or maybe his ghost wasn’t from the same era as the camera he’d bought. Maybe his ghost simply didn’t want to have his photo taken, or maybe—

His train of thought abruptly derails as he picks up the next plate.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

The image is still a negative, the reversed colors lending a certain eeriness to the picture under the red darkroom lights, but there, right smack in the middle of the photo—a figure. An actual human figure, clear as day, looking right at the camera. Remus whoops, nearly knocking over a vial of chemicals with his elbow as he dances backwards in pure giddiness. Oh fuck yes , there is a ghost haunting the place. His ghost, now that he owns the house. His ghost who is…

He pauses, forcing himself to focus on the figure in the photo even as he feels like he’s about to vibrate right off of his bones with excitement. Spectacles, clean-shaven, dark hair neatly styled. Neat trousers, white shirt, trim waistcoat, and a decidedly fancy ascot, the whole ensemble distinctly old-fashioned. Victorian, then? Or Edwardian? Or some historical reenactor who’d met an untimely demise in costume? And it does seem to be an untimely demise; the man looks to be in his mid- to late-twenties, unless he’d found some ability to look whatever age he wanted in the afterlife.

Regardless, he can’t make himself focus on fashion for long. He has a ghost to talk to. Fighting his way out of the cramped closet, he bounds up the stairs, forcing himself to slow to a respectable jog as he darts into the master bedroom. He stops in the middle of the still-bare room, trying and utterly failing to keep his hopes in check.

“Hello? Ghostie?”

No response.

“Mr. Glasses and White Shirt?”

His skin prickles, the hair on the back of his neck raising. Aha. There he was.

“Hey, what’s up?” He turns in a slow circle, searching for any sign of his specter, any flicker of light off a spectacle lens or a flash of a shirtsleeve, but the room is as empty as ever.

“I have a photo if you’d like to see it.” Could ghosts not see themselves in mirrors or was that only vampire lore? And if he couldn’t see his own reflection, did the ghost even remember what he looked like?

He raises the picture, proferring the negative to the vacant room, and holds his breath. Nothing, for several long moments, and then the chill edges closer. Remus bites his lip, barely able to keep himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet at the prospect of a ghost being within arm’s reach.

“I wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything, I just wanted to see if you were real or if I needed to go check myself into a padded room, you know? I’m Remus, if I haven’t said that. What’s your name?”

Several more excruciatingly long moments that Remus is sure has to be the longest span of silence in history, then—

“Hello.”

The voice is thin and slightly hoarse, quiet enough that Remus has to strain to make it out, but it’s as unmistakably real as the form that flickers into existence right in front of his eyes, identical to the man in the photo. He’s distinctly transparent, the edges of him not quite defined, fuzzing out around the edges like the ambient glow of neon signs, but he’s here and he’s real and this is so fucking cool that Remus could keel over right here and now from excitement and join the ghost in wandering around the house for all eternity.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, because if there was ever a time for swearing, by god this is fucking it, and the spirit withdraws slightly, already guarded expression closing in further. “No no no, it’s good,” he rushes to assure him, resisting the urge to reach out and try to touch him. “Good holy shit. Complimentary holy shit.”

The ghost doesn’t seem entirely appeased, but he tilts his head slightly, something like curiosity sparking in his eyes as he evaluates Remus.

“Why are you not frightened of me?” he finally asks, and Remus has to fight back the absurd laugh bubbling up in his chest. He’s being questioned by a century-old ghost in the middle of his haunted home. Life really was delightfully freaky.

“No offense, man, but you’re not exactly terrifying. I mean, I’ve been here what? A solid month? And you haven’t even tried to pluck my eyeballs out or anything.”

Another unreadable pause. Is he just giving the spirit ideas? Were his eyes about to be forcibly unmarried from his skull à la eagles tearing out Prometheus’ liver?

“Do you want me to be afraid of you?” he asks after a further absolutely unbearable five seconds of silence.

“No,” the ghost admits after a moment of clear hesitation, “but previous residents certainly have not appreciated my presence here.”

Remus scoffs. “That’s their problem. Some of us are smarter than that.”

The other man’s head tilt deepens, something akin to puzzlement furrowing his brow, as if he can’t fathom why having a ghost is actually the most badass shit on the face of the planet.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Remus asks, exhilaration still racing along the underside of his skin so intensely that he can barely stand it. “You can ask me whatever you want, too.”

The ghost nods, although he still seems cautious as one hand fiddles absently with his ascot. “I suppose that would be alright.”

Twenty questions with an undead spirit. Remus’ life really was getting better by the minute.

“Did you used to live here?”

“I did, many years ago.”

“Did you own the place?”

“At one point in time, yes. It was truly a beautiful house in its day, and a wonderful place to reside.”

Oh fuck yes. If having an old-timey ghost who can give him historically accurate advice about restoring the house isn’t the coolest fucking thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t sure what is. He has half a mind to start grilling him on paint colors and wallpaper prints and the original hardwood, but—

“Did you die here?”

The words are blurting out of his mouth without even bothering to detour through his brain on the way out, burning curiosity eclipsing any thought that perhaps asking about death isn’t exactly acceptable ghost etiquette. He barely has time to register the change in the spirit’s expression, the visceral upset written across his features clear as day, before he’s gone in between one breath and the next, vanishing back into whatever thin air he’d come from and leaving nothing but a biting chill in his wake.

Shit shit shit. He’s finally gotten the ghost to trust him enough to show up and talk and then he’s gone and ruined it within the span of two minutes all because he had all the self-control of a sieve trying to retain water.

“Wait,” he calls, casting about in vain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Well, apparently his subconscious had, but that hadn’t been his intention. “Please come back. You can ask me as many invasive questions as you like.” Nothing. “You can haunt me for revenge, if you want.” Utter silence. “Are you gonna hurl me off the balcony like my EMF meter?”

There he goes again, giving the specter ideas, although really, being yeeted out of a window by a ghost would be a damn cool end if he does say so himself. He lingers in the room for several long minutes, forcing himself to keep quiet lest he miss the spirit’s hushed voice, but there’s nothing but the faint sound of a bird twittering outside.

“Alright,” he finally relents, disappointment pooling in his stomach as he glances down at the photography plate still in his hand, the negative serving as indisputable evidence that the encounter hadn’t just been a fever dream. He’ll find a way to make things right with the ghost somehow, one way or another. He has to. “Just come spook me if you change your mind.”

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!): @darth-does-stuff

#thomas sanders sides big bang 2023 #tssbb2023 #sanders sides #ts remus #remus sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #intrulogical #loceit #ts fanfic #the art of saying goodbye #my fic #rosepetal writes

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torubeth · 2 years

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suna rintarou headcanons

why, you ask…cuz i miss him. and i’m not doing so well after dat one shot. honestly idek wat dis is, jus stuff which i wholeheartedly believe ig ? :>

love language : physical touch. his hands are always hanging around your waist or thighs. subtle touches and small kisses from him are everybody’s essentials.

favorite places to kiss : literally everywhere but mostly on the neck, nose, lips, thighs, shoulder and did i say neck ?

nicknames he’d call you : angel, princess, baby, babe and he’s definitely the type to call you cringe names just to piss you off.

his type : he’d go for anyone. that’s it. all he needs is someone who’ll match his vibe, someone who’ll understand him. the quirky, cocky, sarcastic, daredevil personality is his top tier. although he finds the quiet ones cute. at the end of the day, anyone. (cuz y’all are jus *chefs kiss*!!)

you’re gonna tell me the guy’s a smoker ? yeah no. he’s the cool guy who declines it whenever he’s offered.

the type of person to think that making cereal is a talent. and honestly, i agree with him.

his camera roll is full of pictures and videos. of you. the storage definitely exceeded its limit, and he has to upgrade it but he just believes that no storage can contain all the stuff because he’ll just keep on taking them. with no regrets.

his playlist : the type of playlist that gets you hooked from song one. he’d have banger songs. mostly underrated ones. slowed version ? yes, slowed version. it’s his thing. and your playlist is on repeat and oh, y’all’s spotify blend ? constantly played it’s illegal.

he’s a tsundere. not that he isn’t all olaf around the team and your friends. as soon as it’s just the two of you, he’s putty in your hands. absolutely, devastatingly adorable. so very soft, and he sleep mumbles, not sleep talk. every time you thread your fingers through his hair, your voice nothing more than a whisper, his thoughts pour out like rain. it ranges from ‘i’m so lucky to have you baby’ ; ‘fuck, you’re beautiful you know that ?’ ; ‘you have really soft hands’ ; ‘i could stare at you all day- no, forever and never get bored’ to ‘for some odd ass reason, i ship our history teacher and chemistry teacher. do you ?’ ; ‘baby, dick has so many synonyms, i’m jealous’ ; ‘atsumu and osamu fighting is like two gorillas competing for a rotten ass banana’. he’s a talker only around you, and you could listen to him all day, everyday.

if you’re the type to throw on mismatched socks, don’t worry, he does too, we don’t judge here. ‘socks is socks right ?’ he quotes.

sneaky kisses are his favorite. skipping practice to go make out with you ? sign him up.

kisses with him aren’t rushed. it’s the one where each kiss has a very deep meaning to it. like he wants you to know what he’s thinking.

is such a fucking tease, it’s frustrating. but is also the one who’s very needy for your attention. see how the tables turn ?

bullying atsumu about him being single is something you’ve both found amusement in.

midnight drives ? midnight drives. he’ll text you around the wee hours of the morning and ask you to join him for a drive, which you obviously don’t decline. playlist blasting in the back, your head hanging out the rolled down window, screaming the lyrics to your favorite song. cheap store candy wrappers are everywhere, a bottle of water, for which the cap’s already missing and you’re both arguing on who has lost it, the small engine sounds in the background. one more memory added to the album in his storage.

walking home from school, he likes to take the long route so he could be with you just a bit longer. hands intertwined, kicking small rocks and pebbles which is in his path, ears on alert, always listening to you, the quietness of the evening is all something he wouldn’t trade for the world.

conclusion : an amazing boyfriend, amazing human being, who i’m very pissed isn’t existing in this world.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader fluff #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna fluff #suna rintarou fluff #suna headcanons #suna rinatro #suna x y/n

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buymobilenz · 2 years

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#best wireless earbuds #wireless earbuds

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lys1 · 3 years

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Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words.

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

#the arcana game #asra alnazar #the arcana #asra lemon #asra smut #asra x reader #asra x female reader #writing #fanfic #arcana smut #arcana #arcana fanfic #asra fanfic

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pradaksj · 3 years

Text

Safety Net || part one. (m.)

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together.

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader

❧ genre⟶ enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, fluff, angst, pining, eventual smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series.

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ mentions of oral and sex but nothing explicit or descriptive. fight scene that involves drunk man. mentions of bullying (in the past).

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n (please read) ⟶ this story switches a lot from past & present, I color coded borders to make it easier to tell :) dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple= present, also this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes 😭 ill come back to edit a lot of things soon.

01 | 02

“Oh perfect, y/n!” Hobi stops you dead in your tracks before you could completely make your way onto the living room, “You don’t mind grabbing some more firewood from my car while I finish these up,” he says, currently too busy melting the chocolate for the s’mores he was making.

You see tonight was New Year’s Eve, and you and a couple of other close friends had decided to rent out a cabin in celebration of the new year instead of going out to some end of the year party, choosing comfort over a night of wild drinking. In the end it didn’t make much of a difference, because the moment you saw Jimin and Taehyung walk in with a pack of soju and other cheap liquor in their hands, you knew that by the end of the night someone, if not everyone, was going to end up completely wasted.

And of course, you were right. After hours of being outside in the cold, with the boys drinking as if there was no tomorrow, everyone had now made their way back inside, complaining that it was too cold outside and that the cabin came with an indoor fireplace for a reason.

Never one to drink too heavy, you had kept your drinking at a moderate pace, only allowing yourself to reach a relaxed kind of buzz. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand were currently debating on whether the US’s landing of the moon was nothing more than a fake ploy to beat Russia and was instead filmed on some movie set.

Jin and his girlfriend acted as measly facilitators between the two men who had been bickering back and forth for the past hour, their slurred speeches making it difficult to take either one seriously.

Jimin, for his part, had attempted to keep his drinking at a minimal but with Taehyung acting as his partner in crime, the two were now playing an unbalanced game of ping-pong, both of them looking as if at any moment they were going to knock out on the table. And Jungkook was— well where the hell was Jungkook?

But before you could dwell too much on the thought, Hobi’s voice snaps you back to reality, “pleaseeee, I’ll even add an extra chocolate square to your s’more, just like how always like em,” he flashes you a smile, your roommate of 3, going on 4, years knowing just what to say to convince you, not that you needed much of it.

Minus Hobi, you were probably the person closest to being sober, and you did not want to imagine the different disastrous scenarios that would happen if he sent anyone who wasn’t yourself out there. You also highly doubted any of them would even be up for it, and so with that you just let out a small groan, mumbling, “Where are your keys?”

Excitedly he points to the kitchen island, where his Hyundai’s keys laid across, “I parked right near the lake,” he says, immediately causing you to look back at him, brows furrowed in confusion, “No one wanted to carry the wood from here to the bonfire earlier, so I just parked near the lake to save our energy,” you roll your eyes, “Come on, it’s just a 2 minute walk at most, and I’m sure there’s still people celebrating across the lake as well so you don’t feel so scared, but if you want I can ask Jungkook to go wi—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—” you interrupt, grabbing the keys and beginning to make your way out, quickly putting on your coat because God knew how cold it was outside. “He’s probably asleep already, knowing him,” you chuckle, the boy who Hobi had introduced you to in the last year and had been living with you two as well, had habit’s that were all too predictable by now. And though you knew he’d be more than glad to get up from bed and help, for now at least, you wanted him to rest as he, himself, was probably tired from carrying things back and forth all day in the help of preparing everything. “I’ll be quick,” you say.

“Make sure that no wooden splinter cuts you,” he shouts out before the wooden door closes, having been the victim to such cuts all day, “and call me if you find it too heavy!”

Beep. Beep.

Double clicking the lock button, you grunt as you try to simultaneously carry the uneven pieces of firewood and place Hobi’s keys back into your jacket’s pocket.

“Oh my God—” you mumble to yourself, frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the keys. The wood was now slipping from your hands, its gritty texture eager to leave you a cut and as predicted it does.

Wincing in pain, you uncaringly drop the pieces of wood, worried more about the cut on your hand than what had fallen on the ground below. Luckily the cut wasn’t too bad, nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix, but the tingly sting in your hand meant that you’d have to wait a while before picking the wooden pieces back up.

Around you, you could hear the sound of different groups of friends and family celebrating with their own events, spotting different bonfires all around the lake. Glancing at the time on your phone, it currently read 11:00, only one more hour until the new year. A part of you was tempted to walk further down the path that led to the lake’s shore. Maybe even secretly wait so that you could watch the fireworks these groups of people most likely had shoot up into the sky at 12. Especially because you knew going back to the cabin, no one would want to come back out with you to watch. Honestly, how bad did they need their wood?

And so by convincing yourself, you begin to walk further towards the lake, careful not to trip on any of the scattered rocks that surround you. By the time you made it down, you were surprised to see just how far you were from other families, most, if not all, of them being directly across the lake. Honestly you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way.

You didn’t want to seem creepy, but the sight was somewhat comforting, the kids running around in their winter gear while their parents and friends all surrounded their bonfire, sticks and marshmallows in hand.

Not to mention that tonight was a full moon, the milky glow from the moonlight reflecting against the ripples of the lake, and the tiny stars which surrounded the magnet that was the moon only adding to the grand scenery in front of you. Usually you weren’t a sucker for these kinds of things, but wow did it look amazing. The person who’d really enjoy something like this was probably—

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, confused if you were seeing things because there he was, not too far from where you stood, sitting on a giant rock with his feet dangling, careful to not touch the freezing water. His right hand throwing the small pebbles that were near him to the lake. Not too hard, and not too soft. Clearly in his own world.

A small smile graces your lips, as you watch him continue, the lake not being the only thing the moonlight was hitting. His glimmering doe shaped eyes focused on the view in front of him, and you could only wonder what had him in such deep thought, but instead not wanting to bother, you slowly began to walk back, careful to not to make any loud noises.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

Mentally, you groan at the sound of the branch breaking, hoping that it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

“Y/N?” he says unsurely, his attention snapping towards the sound, squinting while trying to make out your figure from afar. Your tensed shoulders drop in response. Deciding that there wasn’t much you could do, you turn around and walk towards him, feeling a little guilty that you’ve probably interrupted his time alone.

He watches as you make your way towards him, scooting to his left in order to make space for you because unbeknown to you, he was not at all bothered by your presence. In fact, he had just been thinking about you along with a question that had been looming over his head for quite some time. And the fact that you somehow managed to appear in this exact moment, almost as if it was fate, only left him in further awe.

“I thought you were asleep,” you chuckle, gently sitting down on the empty spot next to him, slowly rubbing your slightly cut hands together in an attempt to stay warm.

“I was going to sleep, but,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “and well why waste such a good view by being in bed, am I right?,” he laughs before quickly noticing the fresh scar on your hand, “What happened?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I came to grab some more firewood from Hobi’s car and well long story short, I dropped them and well I got left with this,” you laugh, not taking your tiny injury too seriously.

Opening up your hand to further show him, he carefully examines the pinkish-red scar which was now slightly swollen, sighing in disappointment, “Mm you should’ve gone to go get it disinfected,” he mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he decides that he wasn’t going to lecture you any further, for in the past year he’s learned that even someone as sweet as you, has their own buttons capable of being pushed.

Having pushed them many, many times before, tonight he just wanted you to feel relaxed and not have to worry about whether he’d say the wrong thing or not. Tonight… well tonight he just wanted for you to seek comfort in his presence, the same way he’d found comfort in yours along the way.

“It doesn’t hurt too much if I’m being honest,” you give him a small reassuring smile, if anything your hands felt more clammy than they did pain. The warm feeling in your chest only expanding to the point where you swore you could feel it at the bottom of your toes.

Honestly, it was a feeling you found yourself all too familiar with these days, and though you knew what it was, you were also unsure on how to act on it, fearful of ruining the friendship with Jungkook that had gone through several ups and downs this year. And so for you the easiest thing to do was to just avoid thinking about it and avoid talking about it.

But there was no denying that the rush of emotions you’d feel whenever you managed to crack a laugh out of Jungkook to the point where his nose would scrunch so high up that you were sure that those happy days would last forever, or the ticklish butterflies you’d feel in your stomach on movie nights where he’d randomly begin to twirl your hair with his fingers, and the rapid heartbeat you’d feel hitting against your chest after an argument over something so trivial, until of course after several days of the silent treatment, one of you would get over themselves and stubbornly apologize whether it be through words or actions, were nothing but love.

Because even in the good and bad of your friendship, the arguments and the laughs, the tears and the smiles, somehow along the way you had found yourself falling in love with the boy who was nothing more than a stranger a year ago today.

“50 more minutes,” he says under his breath, bringing you back to reality.

Awkwardly you smile, “Yeah…” you breathe, the cold crisp weather causing vapor to come out of your mouth, a sign that you were freezing despite having such a thick sweater on. Jungkook is quick to take notice, offering his own puffy jacket for you to wear, to which you quickly refuse, “Take it, I have a sweater underneath anyway,” he pressures. You find it doubtful that his black cotton turtleneck was going to be sufficient enough for him in this weather.

You giggle at his sweet gesture, finding it all too endearing, “I’m telling you I’m good,” you laugh, your shivering fingers telling a different story, “Until the clock strikes twelve at least,” you bargain, pushing the sweater in his hand away back towards him, “then I’ll go back to the warm cabin.”

He looks at you as if unconvinced, but decides to drop it and take your word for it. And if you somehow managed to weasel into staying any longer past 12, then he’d just have to forcefully carry you back to the cabin.

Soon a comfortable silence fills the air, the two of you appreciating not only the view but each other’s presence. How fitting was it that the person you met on New Year’s day last year was going to be the person you ended it with, and begin a whole ‘nother year with.

“Can you believe it’s been one whole year since we’ve met,” he suddenly breaks the silence, almost as if reading your mind. To that you let out a small breathy chuckle, in disbelief yourself. Time had gone both so slow and fast this year, it was fascinating really, how you could be both so aware and unaware that someone’s very own existence was beginning to take such a special place in your heart.

“It feels like,” you pause momentarily, a small gentle smile appearing on your face as you remembered your first encounter with Jungkook, not knowing that it’d only be the beginning to the originally rocky relationship you had with him, “It feels like it was only yesterday.”

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

“Only one hour left until the new year everybody!” the DJ shouts onto his mic and over the blasting music of the party you were currently at, “Make sure you grab that special somebody before the clock strikes 12!”

“You heard him y/n, go grab a special somebody,” Hobi teases, the two of you currently sitting at the bar acting as mere spectators to the group of partygoers that were currently having the time of their life on the dance floor.

For both you and Hobi, this type of setting was a little… how could you describe it … out of place for the two of you, but after weeks of begging from both Jimin and Taehyung and a little added pressure from Namjoon and Yoongi, the two of you now found yourselves here drinking the final night of 2018 away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you playfully roll your eyes, grabbing the shot glass full of tequila and downing the surprisingly smooth liquor. Hobi follows suit and chugs down his own. A squirmful look on his face following soon after. “Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll find myself dancing just like them,” you laugh, glancing at your group of friends who were currently acting as the life of the party, Jimin busting out what he calls his most “exclusive” moves.

Hobi, unlike him, remains silent which catches your attention. His attention was now on his phone, his face now appearing both red and stressed out. Nosily, you stretch your neck and attempt to peak at what could possibly have your roommate so worried, but Hobi’s quick to catch you. Immediately he pulls his phone towards his chest.

You gasp in dramatic fashion because one, your roommate wasn’t one to keep secrets from you, and two, well you were beginning to feel a little tipsy. “Now what could Jung Hoseok be hiding,” your words come out slightly slurred, a sign that the only thing you should be drinking from this point onward was some water.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he’s quick to respond, back on his phone but this time keeping it out of your reach, his fingers quickly tapping against the glass screen. You could only wonder who it was that had him typing as if his life depended on it.

“Come onnnnn,” you sing, playfully pushing his shoulder, “It can’t be that interesting, considering you don’t do much,” you pout. He looks up from his phone for a moment, but only to shoot you a glare, excusing your teasing with the fact that you were barely holding onto the state of being tipsy and on the brink of being considered drunk.

Hobi’s eyes quickly read the most recent text he’s received, rolling his eyes at whatever it was before sighing in distress, “You really wanna know?” eagerly you nod your head yes, “Well I was hoping he would be here so I could introduce you to him,” he gently shakes his head, clearly disappointed by tonight’s outcome.

“Ooooo who's the special person,” you quirk your brows up and down, but Hobi’s quick to shoot the idea down.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that,” he laughs, “this person is a..” he pauses, trying to look for the best word to describe his relationship with said person, “Mm I guess we can call him a childhood friend,” he hums, “and well he’s been going through a bit of a tough time right now and well long before me and you ever met, he went out of his way to help me and well I think this time it’s only right that I’m there for him.” you tilt your head, slightly confused as to where this was going, “And sooo,” he sings, “I was hoping that by bringing you here and having you in a fun mood, that I could ask if he could stay at our place for a couple of months…”

You remain silent, Hobi’s words processing through your head one by one, an effect of the alcohol currently running through your system, “Only until he gets used to being in Seoul again, and finds some kind of solid ground here of course,” Hobi throws it in, worried that your silence meant rejection.

“Oh…” you mumble, thinking to yourself for a moment. Hobi’s friend huh? Well you and Hobi were like two peas in a pod, meaning whoever was a friend of his, was a friend of yours, point blank. You trusted that whoever this friend was, and whatever predicament they were in, chose to go to Hobi for the sole reason that Hobi was one of, if not the kindest person you’ve ever met, and was one of the very rare kind of people who made sure that whatever it was a person was going through, that they found a way to overcome it. And well you also assume that Hobi was going to take care of this person’s expenses … right?

You smile once you reach a decision, “Of course they can stay Hobi,” you laugh, a little offended that he thought you’d say no, but glad that he asked anyway.

Immediately Hobi breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he got that out of the way, “But he’s using your bathroom, make sure you tell him that!” you throw in, not wanting the order in which you had your things arranged to be touched with.

Hobi laughs in response, “I’ll make sure to tell Jungkook that,” so that was his name, Jungkook. Not too much of a common name in Korea, interesting, you think.

“So when do I get to meet our new temporary roommate?” you ask in eagerness, curiosity a driving force.

Hobi sighs recalling his text from not too long ago, “Well he was supposed to come here and celebrate tonight, giving you two a chance to meet beforehand, but,” he rereads the message on his phone, hoping the three bubbles would pop up at some point before scoffing and ultimately giving up, locking the screen, “I’m not entirely too sure if he’s going to make it.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from the bar stool and stretch out your arms, yawning in turn, “Mm well I guess I’ll just meet him on move in day,” you joke around, glancing at the time on your phone, “but for now I need to go pee before the countdown, there’s only like 10 minutes left,” you exclaim, surprised by how fast the hour had gone by. Hobi nods in response, getting up himself and making his way to the dance floor, joining your group of friends.

And so you begin to walk towards the ladies’ room, humming yourself a tune over the EDM music that was currently close to rupturing your eardrum. How people liked this kind of music was something you’d never understand, but to each their own right? Luckily you weren’t as drunk as you thought you were, the effects of the tequila only acting as something quick and not long lasting. Now in more of a buzzed state than “drunk”.

“MmmMmmMmm,” you hum, pushing the door of the ladies room and making your way into one of the stalls. But what you saw once you opened the restroom stall was … um …. it was safe to say that you were shocked at the sight in front of you. Shocked to the point where you couldn’t even properly react, not even a shriek coming out of your mouth.

Instead you just stood there, wide eyed, at the sight of a brown haired woman on her knees, with her hair in a messy ponytail giving um … oral … on what you could only describe as a very very handsome man.

Now if you were to ask if he was really all that into it? Well it seemed a bit unclear considering how the two of you were now having a complete stare down, a shocked expression on your face while he had a stoic one on his, until slowly a small smirk began to appear on his face.

He scoffs before saying, “Enjoying the view?” and with that you finally shriek and quickly close the stall dorm, practically running out the door because not only were you embarrassed by the situation that just happened but still in complete shock.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, leaning your head against the wall in an attempt to process what just happened. And once you did, you facepalmed yourself in frustration, mad at the reaction you had because God was that embarrassing.

You had acted as if you’d never seen, hell, as if you’d never done the dirty with someone, but for some reason walking in on someone receiving their um... pleasure… had you feeling like a kid who didn’t know about the birds and the bees. And his little comment only added salt to the wound, he probably thought you were enjoying the view with how long you had stayed there standing like an idiot!

“Start grabbing your partners everyone because the countdown is happening in exactly three minutes everybody! Three minutes till we enter 2019!” Three minutes?! You had to find your friends quick! Pushing off what happened to the back of your mind, you speed walk back to the main sector of the club, looking through the crowd of people in hopes of finding at least one of your friends.

“Where could he b—Ah!” you impulsively squeal once you spot Hobi along with the rest of your friends, quickly making your way towards them, Hobi spotting you as well.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Hobi asks, but just as you’re about to answer, a voice from behind interrupts.

“I caught traffic, and well parking was a bitch,” the voice, all too familiar, sends a feeling of panic through your body because turning to face the owner of said voice, was just as surprising as the scene you walked in on only moments ago.

“Y/N! This is Jungkook, Jungkook this is Y/N, my roommate I was telling you about,” Hobi shouts over the music, and all you can do is stare at the man in front of you wide eyed. Your mouth slightly agape in shock, while Jungkook on the other hand has a teasing grin on his face, as only the two of you knew what had transpired in the ladies’ restroom. He sticks his hand out for you to shake and you notice the small number of tattoos that cover his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got one minute on the clock! Start saying your goodbyes to 2018, and get ready to say hello to 2019!” The DJ shouts excitedly, lowering the music for the countdown that’s about to begin.

“Earth to Y/N?” Hobi says waving his hand in front of you, having left Jungkook with his hand open for quite some time now.

“Oh,” you say, bringing yourself back to reality and shaking his hand in return, but the moment you do he brings you in for a small friendly hug, “What a small world,” he whispers into your ear, winking at you as he pulls away.

Hobi, unaware of how you two originally met, rolls his eyes, “Hey, hey hey, she’s our roommate not some girl you can go messing around with,” Hobi says, “Now come on you two, there’s only 15 seconds left!” gently he shoves the two of you towards your groups of friends who were now wearing their New Year’s props which included giant sunglasses, feathered boa’s, and more.

“In 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6…” everyone begins to scream the numbers of the countdown, 2018 clearly leaving with a bang, “5,4,3!” you suddenly feel an arm wrap over your shoulder, and like in the movies a part of you expected it to be the man you just met, but thankfully enough it was Jimin who was clearly drunk, excited, and in clear need of catching his balance. But of course that didn’t mean someone didn’t have their eyes on you from afar…

“2, 1! Happy New Year!” The fog machine erupts and the strings of golden confetti begin to fall from the club’s ceiling. Cheers to the New Year.

Clutching your stomachs in laughter, the two of you poke fun at the recollection of that fatal first encounter, “I really walked in on you getting,” you heave in such a way that you’re incapable of completing the sentence, genuine laughter filling the air.

“Hey, you were the one who stood there like you’d never seen a—” playfully you push his shoulder before even he gets the chance to finish his own sentence.

“Like what you see?” you exaggeratingly mimic his voice from that night, lowering your voice by several octaves. He cries out in laughter, tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling cringe at his choice of words from a year ago today. Who did he think he was? “The woman didn’t even bother to look up! Clearly you had her enamored in what she was doing!” you tease, and in response he wraps his arms around you in a playful manner, telling you that he didn’t want to hear any more.

“What even happened when I left?” you ask, curious to know the answer considering you only knew what you did afterwards.

“Well I overheard the DJ yell about the countdown so I had to cut it short, and well we exchanged numbers. I mean it wasn’t at all a drunk hookup or anything, I was sober, she was sober. I think I went out with her once afterward, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “It was just meant to be a one time thing I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head in slight shame and embarrassment. See a year ago, hookups like that were the norm for him, but a year ago he was also nothing like the person he was now. Was it for the better? He’d like to think so.

Shaking your head, you mumble, “To think our relationship would only get worse,” you stare at him accusingly, “no thanks to you!” He stays silent, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“Hey you didn’t make it any easier!” he huffs, “Do you need help with that? What’s that? I don’t think that should be placed there,” he mocks your questions from that day many months ago, move in day.

“I was just trying to be nice! Make things less awkward, you know?” you feel your cheeks get red, now seeing how pushy you had probably been.

He scoffs, “No you just didn’t want your things invaded with mine,” it was now your turn to stay silent.

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

“I don’t think that should go there,” you whisper to Hobi, watching Jungkook place more of his things around your apartment, secretly hoping it was the last batch.

This had to at least be your 15th complaint today, but what bothered Jungkook more was that not only wouldn’t you tell it to his face, but they’d be said in such a superficial tone. He didn’t care if you were trying to be “nice”, it sounded fake and prissy and he’d prefer it if you could just shut up for one moment. People like you were just so… annoying, and to think he thought you were cute.

“Do you need help?” your voice interrupts his train of thought, your figure now looming over his shoulder, and attempting to look at the content of his cardboard boxes. Harshly, he closes the flaps, momentarily scowling at you before taking a deep breath and putting on his best face.

“No it’s fine, I’m almost done but thank you though,” he says, now his turn to be superficial.

“Oh well just let me know if you need anything,” you smile, as unbeknownst to Jungkook, you really were just this nice of a person. Yeah, things may still be a little awkward on your part because of what happened on New Years Eve, you of course having to pep talk yourself several times in the mirror this morning, but to you it was important you established some kind of friendship with your new roommate. Even if he wasn’t going to be here for long.

“I’m gonna go get us takeout,” Hobi announces, not only tired but hungry from having helped Jungkook carry his stuff upstairs to the apartment floor all day, because out of all days in the year, today the elevator just had to be out of service. “I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and making his way out. Leaving you and Jungkook to yourselves.

An awkward silence fills the living room air, Jungkook currently taking a small break on the long couch, while you sit on the short one, fidgeting with your fingers. Maybe you should make conversation? It wouldn’t hurt right?

“So Jungkook,” you begin nervously, he looks up from his phone and places his attention on you, a stoic expression on his face, “um..”, you mentally scold yourself for not already having a question prepared before speaking, “where are you from?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scoffs, “Korea?” he says, as if stating the obvious.

Feeling flustered, you reiterate your question, “No I mean like where did you move from, you know…” your voice lowers at the end.

He sighs before responding, his attention now back on his phone, “I was in the states for a while, but I’m originally from Busan.”

Immediately you light up, seeing this as an opportunity to further the conversation, “Oh I have a friend from there, I don’t know if you met him on New Years, but his name is Jimin!” you excitedly ramble, “He was the one with the dirty blonde hair, black turtleneck, sparkly jac—”

“Yeah I know,” Jungkook rudely interrupts, now getting up from the couch and walking towards his new room, “Let me know when Hobi’s back, yeah? I’m freaking starving,” and with that he enters his room and shuts the door, leaving you slightly taken back.

“Will do,” you quietly mumble to yourself, a little hurt to say the least by his cold action. Shrugging it off, you excuse it by assuming he was just grumpy. You were sure that he'd be more open to having conversation after settling his things in.

That night after cleaning a couple of your own things, and eating the food Hobi had brought, you remained in bed and on your laptop, Youtube surfing the rest of the night away. That was of course until you heard the sound of your restroom door opening and closing. Right away you get up, already knowing what transpired, but wanting to see the mess that was most likely made with your own two eyes.

Walking into your restroom, you’re immediately hit with the scent of your strawberry shampoo and lavender body wash mixed in with the foggy steam that was created, a result of an extremely hot shower. The sink, a travesty to look at, was spilled with water all over and you did not even want to get started on the “manly” products that were now side to side with yours behind the mirror’s cabinet. Meanwhile, your hair brush was covered in strands of dark brown hair that clearly weren’t yours. But the final straw? Finding the cap of your $100 dollar serum halfly screwed closed with remnants dripping down the bottle.

Shutting the cabinet, you practically stomp out of your restroom and immediately towards Jungkook’s door. Raising your hand to knock, you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. Maybe Hobi didn’t tell him anything about using your restroom. This was only going to be a one time thing until you cleared it out with him.

Gently, you knock on his door, patiently awaiting his response. You could hear the sound of muffled music playing in the background, meaning it was probably much louder inside the room than out. Raising your hand to knock again, the door swings open just as you’re about to tap against the black wooden door. A shirtless Jungkook with your baby blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes?” he smugly says, your cheeks almost an embarrassing shade of crimson. It’s hard to not look at what’s in front of you, but you manage.

“Oh um—” you fluster your words, “um —” you gulp before finding your words again, “I was hoping Hobi had told you about the bathroom situation…but um..I guess he didn’t so um yeah, my bathroom is only for me to us—”

“He did,” he cuts you off, huffing a small laugh.

“He what?” you asked, unsure of what he was referring to, or at least acting dense about it because you did not want to believe that the shirtless boy in front of you completely disregarded the simple rule he was supposed to follow.

“He told me about the whole bathroom rearrangement, buuuuttt,” he teases, “your restroom has the bigger shower and well add strawberry scented shampoo and lavender body wash into the mix and honestly it was a done deal for me,” he stretches his arms above himself, dramatically yawning, his abdomen stretching out in such a way that the towel on his waist was barely clinging onto its dear life.

“But—But—”

“But what?” he cocks his head to the side, amused by your panicked behavior, “It’s also the closest one to me so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “Well if that’s all you came here for then, goodnight,” he winks at you before turning around and slamming the door once again.

You stand there bewildered by what just happened, your mouth agape in shock. Did that really just happen or? Because if it did then he practically just told you that he didn’t give one single fuck.

Making your way back to your room, you’re unsure on how to feel about everything that just happened because sure you’ve encountered your fair share of rude people before but to live with one was a completely different story. And Jungkook wasn’t only rude, he was the smug kind, the “I know I’m good looking, so I can treat anyone the way I want to because my good looks will let me get away with it,” type of rude. Was it a little specific? Yes. But it’s true. Honestly, it was the type of person you thought only existed in rom-coms but clearly they exist in real life. Jungkook being a prime example of such an attitude.

“Just a couple of months,” you breathe out, throwing yourself onto your bed in exasperation, “until he gets settled down in Seoul,” you repeat Hobi’s words from New Years Eve to yourself, sighing before allowing slumber to sweep over you.

“So much for a couple of months,” you tease Jungkook, nudging his shoulder a little bit because a year later and he was still your roommate, and ironically it was you and Hobi who practically begged him to stay.

He scrunches his nose, “ I don’t see you complaining.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I’m just kiddinnn,” you sing, “What would I do without your buttermilk pancakes huh?” you grin at him, his eyes rolling playfully in return.

“Is that all you want from me? Pancakes!” he chuckles, “Ah I should’ve known,” he shakes his head. The two of you giggle at each other’s banter, his high pitched laugh truly infectious.

“What do you think y/n and Jungkook from the beginning of 2019 would think of this scene right now?” you ask, knowing the answer.

Jungkook ponders at the question for a moment before letting out a deep breath and answering, “Mm I think they’d have a hard time believing what’s in front of them, at least I would. I think you would be happy to see that your goal in becoming friends with your new roommate worked out just fine. It just took a bit of time was all…”

February 2019.

To say that you were struggling to live with Jungkook would probably be the biggest understatement of the year. From the constant use of your things without permission, to the blatant rude remarks he’d constantly throw at you, to the days where he’d be completely cold to you and the rest of the world, and don’t even let you get started on the constant women he’d bring over. You’d have to invest in some ear plugs soon if it kept going at the rate it was because at this point you knew Jungkook liked it um … rough … so to speak.

You found yourself asking Hobi, “Has he settled down yet?” wayyyy too often. Sometimes it felt like Jungkook was purposely baiting you to stoop to his level, like as if he was itching to play a game of cat and mouse. And so for you to continuously suck it up and put on a fake smile for him, only made him do more things to bother you.

He was like a mosquito pestering you at the back of your neck. He wouldn’t stop until he got his fangs, or whatever it was that mosquitos used to bite, into you. For what reason? You truly did not know, for you have been nothing but nice to him since the day he moved in.

You often wondered how Hobi could put up with it, you mean Jungkook wasn’t exactly mean to Hobi, but he did throw remarks and eye rolls here and there. The best way to describe it was that Jungkook was treating you two like punching bags, and a part of you wanted to know why? Not only why, but where? Where is Jungkook from? Why was he in the states? What made him come back? Why can’t he go back to Busan? Does he have family? How does Hobi even know the dude? Why does Jungkook wake up with a stick up his ass every morning? Why was Jungkook angry at the world and when did he decide that he was going to take it out on you two, especially you. Honestly you were unsure if you’d ever get answers to your questions, but it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks when he was gone, right?

Luckily though the only times you really did see Jungkook was on weekends, and even then if you weren’t out doing some nightly festivities then he was. Or while you went grocery shopping he was working out or something, Not to mention that weekdays you worked AM shifts at your job while Jungkook, who had been hooked up with a job at one of the coffee shop’s Hobi managed, worked afternoon to night shifts.

This meant that whenever you were going to work, Jungkook was catching up on his sleep and vice versa. But occasionally when you two did bump paths, let’s say going to your restroom, he definitely used those opportunities to try and get under your skin. Each and every time, failing to do so.

But today something was different. You weren’t sure if it was because as you were driving to work, coffee spilled onto your shirt at a speed bump because someone stole your favorite coffee thermo which had a securable lid. This then caused you to be 30 minutes late which then resulted in you receiving your first ever official warning. Or maybe it was because you had to not only stay an extra 30 minutes, but an extra hour because someone’s late night hook up the night prior kept you up and completely unfocused. You personally had chosen to go to sleep than stay up and listen to some girl screaming about how much deeper she wanted it while trying to type up your monthly report. And then of course who could forget the cherry on top? Coming back home to that same certain someone, and having to deal with the accusations that you stole his banana milk.

“I didn’t steal anything,” you mumble, warming up the japchae Hobi had left for you on the stove. Jungkook gets up and opens the fridge door, dramatically showing you the empty spot where his banana milk was usually at.

“Well someone did, and Hobi says it wasn’t him and well I trust Hobi so,” Jungkook shrugs, looking at you with a deadpan look on his face. Sadly, Hobi probably asleep already, tired from what you assumed was a long day of work and the thing about Hobi was once he went to sleep there was no waking him up. That boy could sleep through the world ending, “I don’t exactly think it’s beneath you to steal my things…” he says, each one of his words dripping with venom.

You?! Stealing his things?! When he’s the one who's been taking your things left and right?? If he had caught you on any other day, you probably would’ve shrugged his accusations off, hell you might’ve even taken the blame and offer to buy him a new pack. But right now, you could feel your blood almost boiling. How dare he!

“I,” your voice rises, completely ready to go off on the boy, until you hear a door slam, Hobi coming out completely groggy and clearly annoyed.

“Will you two just,” his voice is heavy, sighing in frustration, “Y/N just go and eat in your room,” he says, feeling like a parent to two fighting siblings.

“But—” you’re about to fight your case, until Hobi interrupts.

“Y/N…” he looks at you in despair, his tone a clear indicator that he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t annoyed, he was just tired. You grab your food from the stove, having to pass by Jungkook as you leave the kitchen.

“Was little miss saccharine finally going to pop?” he scoffs, the two of you momentarily having a stare down, until quickly you compose yourself, the fake smile he knew all too well back on your face.

“Goodnight Jungkook,” you say, before making your way back into your room, peeved that Hobi scolded you and not Jungkook, that was until you heard the sound of muffled voices through your closed door.

If you wanted to get a better listen you were going to have to crack open the door without making a single sound, something that would be embarrassing if you managed to fail. Deciding that you were too nosy for your own good, you thankfully succeed in doing so, their voices sounding much clearer to your ears.

“You know she’s having a bad day, and yet—” you hear the sound of Hobi flapping his arms in despair, “and yet you still make her your target of the day,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, his voice telling you that he was ready to go on the defense.

“Jungkook let’s not act dense,” Hobi says, “What are we in preschool? You have some crush, and think being mean will get you your way with her?” Hobi accuses, which Jungkook immediately denies.

“She wishes,” he mumbles in return, “I treat her like I treat everyone,” he clarifies, almost sounding proud.

“No you treat her worse,” Hobi adds, “if you’re not giving her some backhanded compliment then you’re completely giving her the cold shoulder. I probably only get half of what she does, and even I’m getting fed up with it, so I could only imagine how she feels,” he sighs, “but Y/N is a very very nice person, and since that first day I met her in till even today, I have never seen her get mad at anyone, but you my friend are,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe it, “well you’re pushing buttons that I’ve never seen pushed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah because her whole act of “I’m miss goody two shoes and can never even hurt a fly” act is such bullshit,” he drops his air quotes, “a grown ass woman acting like telling someone off will add some kind of dent to the image I’m sure has taken her a very long time to build.”

With every word he says, you could feel your stomach drop further and further down. The lump in your throat desperate to be let out. “She probably has you and the rest of the world fooled, but I can see right through it. It’s people like her who will lie to your face, and tell you everything you want to hear because they don’t want to be painted out as some bad guy. And let me tell you people like that are much worse than me because at least I have the balls to tell it like it is to someone’s face rather than protect my own ego, ” he finishes his rant, the veins on his neck faintly popping.

Hobi remains silent for a moment, taking in everything Jungkook said, then pushing his hair back with his hand, an indicator that he was stressed, “Look man, I’m letting you stay here so you can get back on your feet, and because you didn’t want go back to Busan,” he sighs, knowing he’s stepping on broken glass, “I don’t know what happened over there in the states, and I’m not gonna ask about it because I’m sure you’ll talk about it the day you’re ready to,” he pauses, “But what I do know is that you’re right, Y/N does fake her persona from time to time…” you feel your heart drop, while Jungkook’s face goes smug. That is until Hobi continued with what he was saying, “But the same way I’m not gonna ask you about why you came back to Korea a completely cold person, I’m not gonna question why she acts the way it does, especially because it's not hurting anyone.”

“Of course you wo—”

Hobi cuts him off before he can continue, “Let me finish,” he sternly says, his brows knitted, “But as long she keeps letting her feelings build up the way I’m assuming they are, and you keep acting the way you are now then—” he sighs, “There’s going to be a day where the water in the pot is going to boil over and well I don’t wanna be here when it happens,” his presses his lips together, shaking his head at the mere idea, “All I ask for Jungkook is that you try to be a little nicer to her, just for once. I think the two of you would actually be pleasantly surprised at how much in common you have,” Jungkook tries his best to bite his tongue, seeing just how tired his friend looked, “Maybe not even nice to her, just decent. Can you do me that favor?”

Jungkooks lets out a huff of air before silently nodding his head yes, Hobi giving him a small smile in return, “Thanks Jungkook, now I can actually go to sleep instead of hearing you two bicker,” he says before tapping on his shoulder and going back into his room. You, on the other hand, quickly wipe any droplets that fall from your eyes, closing the door before Hobi could notice the crack that was there.

Jungkook sits in the kitchen chair for a while, reflecting on the lecture Hobi just gave him. Hating that the feeling of guilt was beginning to seep in because unlike Hobi, before his little lecture, Jungkook knew that there had been a pair of ears listening in and he knew you could hear every word that came out of his mouth as your little attempt to crack open the door wasn’t as slick as you thought it was ….he just hadn’t cared.

“Just be decent,” Jungkook whispers to himself before turning off the kitchen lights and heading to bed. The two of you lying in your own beds at night, a lot on each other's mind.

“And to think Hobi ended up predicting everything that was going to happen,” Jungkook shakes his head, remembering his friend’s warning to him.

“That’s our Hobi,” you laugh, “always one step ahead, well when he wants to be of course,” you add, a small chuckle coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in response.

“You think he knew what he was doing the whole time?” Jungkook asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in terms of allowing everything to play out, you know? Because if he wanted to he could’ve kicked me out from the beginning…” you ponder on his question for a bit, thinking back to Hobi’s role in this whole tale.

“Mm I think he knew but was probably unsure the whole time, you know? Unsure if things would work out the way he set em up to be, I don’t know if he’ll ever tell us but…” you pause, “I think he knew what he was doing from the moment he told you that you could live with us, and I definitely think it was bullshit on his part when he said that he didn’t know what happened to you in the states,” you laugh because you could picture Hobi doing his own research on Google late at night, “So I guess he just knew that there were two people in his life in desperate need of a…” you look for the right word to describe it.

“Reality check?” Jungkook fills in for you, but you shake your head no.

“Mm,” you hum, “No, I dont think thats the way to put it, hmm, how about this…” you pause one last time before continuing, wanting to make sure you said everything correctly, “Hobi had two pieces to a puzzle that needed to connect together in order to complete said puzzle, but after lots of tosses and turns in their box well the two pieces just didn’t fit together anymore. In fact they refused to even try and fit with another, deciding that they were going to live with their new flaps and dents, and ignoring the fact that in order to complete the puzzle they needed to come together,” you let out a small laugh, “and so Hobi took a gamble, and decided to leave the pieces alone for the time being, in hopes that maybe, just maybe with a little bit more tosses and turns they’d realize that by coming together they’d be left with nothing but a beautiful image to show,” a warm smile appears on your face, “Yeah I think I like how that sounds, what do you think?” you turn to face Jungkook who was staring at you with his doe-eyed expression, completely speechless.

“Or was I too wordy?” you laugh, “I reached didn’t I?” you begin to ramble, “Ah I really need to—” suddenly you feel a cold finger pressed against your lips, Jungkook sounding a tiny “shh” soon after.

“I think it was perfect,” Jungkook softly whispers, what could only be described as a loving smile on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling your cold face get warmed up due to the heat that was rising from your cheeks. Reminding you of a memory from only months ago…

March 2019.

“Remind me why I’m going again?” you walk out of the hallway and into the living room, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Because you are tonight’s designated driver,” Hobi reminds you, “and well we all don’t fit in Seokjin’s mini cooper so there’s that,” he laughs. You sigh in return, looking at your reflection for the 100th time tonight. “Jungkook, you almost ready?” Hobi shouts from the living room, not keen on his friend’s habit of always getting ready at the last minute.

Tonight was one of, if not the only, rare occasions that both you and Jungkook would be at an outing together, and even then Hobi was always with you two, acting as the facilitator. Jungkook and you usually parted your separate ways the moment you’d arrive somewhere, especially at parties. And so today you didn’t really expect anything different.

It had been about a month since Hobi’s little lecture to Jungkook, and in a way it did have some kind of positive effect on Jungkook. These days he was now much more quiet and reserved, and honestly you preferred the cold shoulder over the constant attitude so you were definitely not complaining.

You were even surprised this morning when you found your bathroom products to be completely replaced by new bottles, including your serum! Of course they had been slightly used, meaning Jungkook wasn’t going to let go of his grip on them just yet, but at least it meant that he had the decency to realize that if he was going to be using them all the time, then it was only right that he occasionally paid for them.

Even last week when you heard him mumble a small, “that was good, thank you,” after making gyeran-mari’s for breakfast, you had to look at Hobi for confirmation that it really happened. Hell, he had even stopped constantly bringing women over, instead beginning to work out more often as you would now hear his grunts come from doing sit ups than from doing um… yeah. It looked like he even had a knack for boxing because you soon noticed how he’d come back home with hands wrapped in bandages or his gloves stringing along his duffel bag. Honestly, it was a little hot, but you’d rather die before admitting that to anyone.

“Ah I’m done, I’m done,” a voice comes out the hallway, Jungkook balancing on his right foot in a rush to put on his left shoe. Tonight he was dressed a little differently than his usual self, replacing his usual black attire and black combat boots for a more club friendly look of ripped blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a black fitted t-shirt. Of course not straying too far from his personal style. The new tattoo he had gotten recently was also in clear view tonight, his sleeve coming along quite nice in your opinion. He had recently even gotten his hair permed, allowing it to grow out longer than what you were used to seeing. It was crazy what a difference hair could make because it definitely made him look … better, in your eyes at least.

All this change on his part, honestly made you feel a little dull, but that’d be something to dwell on for another day. For now, you just wanted to get tonight over with. The faster you got there, the quicker you could leave, and the earlier you could be in bed.

“You took a whole ass hour for this?” Hobi eyes Jungkook up and down. Jungkook is quick to shoot him an offended look, while you on the other hand are struggling to suppress a laugh, “I’m not saying you look bad, in fact you look amazing, but this should not take you an hour!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, combing a hand through his hair.

“Are we going to get going or what?” he says, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

Once you all arrived, you were quick to meet up with the rest of your friends, everyone having pitched in for bottle service. Jungkook, who had become pretty cool with the rest of everyone, sat between Yoongi and Namjoon, all three of them laughing at God knows what. The bottle they had bought almost halfway done.

You on the other hand, were just watching everyone, the only person besides yourself who wasn’t drunk was Seokjin, and even then he was too busy with his new girlfriend to pay you any attention. Not that you really minded considering she really was a kind person and well who could blame Seokjin for being head over heels. They even shared the same humor, something that was quite rare to find.

You weren’t sure if it was because tonight the club seemed extra packed, or maybe the dress you were wearing was feeling a little too tight or maybe it was the stench of all alcohol getting to you but something definitely fell off. And you did not like it one bit.

“Hey I’m gonna go out back and get some fresh air outside,” you tell Hobi over the music, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement, the boy was clearly very drunk. The moment you stepped out, you definitely did feel better, the crispy fresh air outside almost making you feel as if you were breathing for the first time. That was until you heard the sound of someone arguing.

“I saw you dancing with her! Stop trying to gaslight me into thinking you weren’t!” a woman screams, very much in distress by who you assumed was her boyfriend, “God, I knew I should’ve listened to my mom, you are a pig! And I deserve a man who's going to—

“What did you just say?” he grabs her by the arm, his atrocious grip surely going to cause her a bruise later on.

“Let go of me!” she cries, as he then grabs her by the hair, ready to toss her to the floor and do whatever else he wanted to do with her. You feel your breathing become heavier, watching the scene unfold in front of you, unsure of what to do. You were scared and you didn’t know how to defend yourself, let alone someone else. But you also knew that God forbid you were ever in that situation, you wouldn't want someone turning a blind eye on you, so you did what was only right.

“Hey!” you scream while walking towards the couple, catching the man’s attention, “Let go of her before I—”

“Before you what?” he lets go of her hair, now walking towards you as well. The woman watches you with shaky eyes, having never guessed that her savior would be a woman in black string heels and a face that for the most part was not at all intimidating.

You reach into your purse, hoping to get a feel for either your taser or pocket knife, but of course, of fucking course, on all days of the year it was no where to be found. Nonetheless, you muster up your courage and respond, “Before I call security,” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

He laughs, dramatically looking around to show you that no one around was here to help, “Anyone ever teach you to mind your fucking business, like how a woman should,” you gulp, almost losing balance while taking a step back as he only gets closer, “Huh?! Anyone every fucking teach you that?” he closes in on you, your back soon hitting the wall that was behind you.

“Just leave her alone!” the woman screams in hysteria.

“You stay the fuck out of it! You’re the whole reason she’s in this mess,” he mutters, his words completely slurred and his breath reeking like alcohol. You almost feel like vomiting at the accidental whiff you take because wow was this man just disgusting.

“See maybe if you would’ve just gone about your day, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he makes a ticking sound with his mouth, mocking you, “but” he sighs, “I guess whores just have to stick with each other, huh?” he grabs you by the scalp of your hair, this time not hesitating to throw you to the ground.

“Oh my—” the woman screams, panic flowing through her veins.

“Go!” you yell at her, giving her the chance to escape even if it meant sacrificing your own wellbeing. She hesitates for a moment before running, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement was one of the last things you could hear before the ringing in your ears became all too much.

You look at your hands for a moment, the stinging feeling almost unbearable as they had taken most of the impact of the fall, along with your knees. A part of you hoped he had left, that he had somehow magically disappeared or that you’d wake up to find that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t until you felt the grip of his hand on your hair again, that you’d come to realize the reality of your situation and that there was absolutely no one to help you.

The man lifts up his free hand, building power for the punch he was preparing to throw, as you could only throw your arms in front yourself in an attempt to minimize the impact of the punch. By now tears were falling from freely your eyes, small whimpers and sniffles coming out of fear. The final words you hear being spat from his mouth were, “you stupid bitch,” and in your head you count to three, waiting for the feeling of his fist against your face. But it never came.

Instead you feel the release of his hand on your scalp, and when you open your eyes you find him on the ground, not completely knocked out but he might as well be with just how out of it he looked. And though you weren’t drunk, you almost felt as if you were because absolutely everything around you was overlapping, hardly able to see anything in clear focus. But what you could make out was that there was a figure, and by the build you assume was a man, now sitting over the drunkard, throwing several punches at him. His goal was either to knock the man out or make sure he suffered every way possible before knocking him out.

You stand there for a moment in shock as you hear the person’s voice, a voice that was all too familiar, “I dare you to fucking lay a hand on her again, I fucking dare you!” Jungkook yells, throwing another punch at the man, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” slowly your vision becomes clearer as you wipe away the tears that had been blocking your vision, and soon you realize if Jungkook kept going at the rate he was, the man was going to be killed.

Quickly you run towards Jungkook, attempting to grab his right arm before he swings again, “Jungkook stop!” you yell, but instead he pushes your arm away, too caught up in his rage to think straight. The drunk man looked as if he was barely holding on, blood now all over his face. “I said stop!” you yell at the top of your lungs, the veins on your neck popping. Jungkook, panting, looks up at you, momentarily stopping. “Just stop,” you cry, wanting this nightmare to be over.

Jungkook looks at the barely conscious man one more time, pulling him by the collar of his shirt so that he’d get a good look of him, “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Jungkook,” you stop him from finishing his sentence.

He sighs, “Just be glad she’s here because scum like you deserve to fucking rot,” he says, letting go of the man’s collar and allowing his head to hit the pavement. He gets up from his position and begins to pat his black shirt of any dirt, catching his breath along the way. “You okay?” he asks, intensely staring at you.

But before you could respond, a voice screams, “Hey!” the two of you look up at said voice, only to find a security guard with a flashlight in his hand and his walky talky on the other.

Jungkook quickly grabs you by the hand, causing you to wince at the sudden touch, “Come on,” he says, pulling you to follow him.

He leads you back to the parking lot, confusion evidently on your face. It wasn’t until you turned back to find several security guards following after you that everything began to click together, panic now flowing through your veins. Hurriedly, you grab Hobi’s keys from your purse and unlock the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

Jungkook quickly hops in the passenger seat, his head throbbing from the amount of drinks he’s had, watching as you struggle to put the key in the ignition, clearly in a state of anxiousness. He yanks the keys from your hands and places them in himself, “Now drive!” he shouts, causing you to step ferociously on the gas pedal. Burning tire as you race off the parking lot.

“God my head is fucking killing me,” Jungkook complains, his blood stained hands resting on his temple. By now the two of you were heading back home, Jungkook having texted Hobi through your phone that he was going to have to get a ride from Seokjin. For the situation you two were just in had required an immediate escape.

You on the other hand were driving in complete silence, still in a state of shock of what just happened. Jungkook having to constantly remind you that you were driving, several instances of you zoning out at a stop light happening way too often for his liking.

“I am way too drunk for this shit,” he mutters under his breath, the reality of what just happened beginning to kick in. The queasy feeling in his stomach became more and more unbearable with every turn you took. And don’t even get him started on his throat, which was currently as dry as the Sahara Desert. “Is there some kind of water in this car?” he asks, beginning to look through the car console and glove compartment.

“I don’t,” you pause and sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

“Pull over,” he repeats, his patience running out.

Not questioning him a second time, you do exactly that, pulling over at the side of some park near your apartment. Jungkook takes in a deep breath before opening the door and sticking his head out, seconds later the sound of him vomiting making you feel as queasy as he did.

“Oh God,” you mumble to yourself, just wanting to be in bed already. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because soon enough Jungkook was getting out of the car and going to God knows where. “Where are you going?” you shout, as he walks towards the park.

“I need water,” he says, “You coming or what?” you contemplate on whether to follow him or not, before ultimately exiting the car and locking it. With the way he was stumbling his footsteps, it was better safe than sorry to follow him.

“BogoShipda!” Jungkook sings loudly to the trees in the park, all of the alcohol he drank at the club still running through his system. You stare at him in surprise, having never seen him act like this before, as he continues to sing.

“Now where’s a water fountain when you need one,” he mumbles, the darkness of the night sky making it hard for him to scan his surrounding area. You found yourself feeling a little scared in fact. The silhouette of the trees and the sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches only making the atmosphere more scary.

“Ah there it is!” Jungkook slurs his words, sounding like a kid at a carnival. Once he’s in front of the fountain, he pushes against the button, the water sprouting out of the fountainhead. You stare at him in silence as he hadn’t crouched down to drink yet, thus confusing you.

It wasn’t until you felt a tug at your hand and the sting of the water hitting against your scrapes that you felt like punching him. “What are you doing?” you ask, trying your best not to sound too peeved.

He looks at you before rolling his eyes, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cleaning your hands,” he signals for you to give him your other hand, and without thinking you comply.

“I could’ve done this at home,” you say.

“I know, but the longer we wait the higher chance it'll end up getting infected by dirt so,” he looks at you with a know it all expression, and you mumble a small “I guess,” under your breath, the stinging sensation soon enough replaced by a cool one, your hands no longer feeling as rusty.

It isn’t until he’s finished that he takes a sip of water, exhaling a small “ahh” sound after downing several gulps. “Come on,” he grabs your hand again, leading you to a park bench with a small lamppost right next to it, providing a smooth yellow dim light.

“Why are we—”

“I just want to sit for a moment without the movement of a car, just for a bit,” he exhales a heavy breath, manspreading on the bench and throwing his head back, “just for a bit,” he repeats, his voice soft.

The two of you sit there in silence, “Why are you staring at me?” he asks with his eyes closed, feeling your intense stare.

“I’m not—I’m not staring,” you stutter, he hums in response. Silence fills the air again, until Jungkook mumbles something that at first is inaudible.

“What?” you ask.

“I said I’m ˢᵒʳʳʸ,” you look at him confused, were you hearing him correctly?

“Wait what?” you ask again, it wasn’t your intention to come off as pushy nor pretentious but you were just seriously surprised as to what you were hearing.

He grumbles before repeating himself, “I said,” he drops his shoulders, “I said I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to look at you, his usual smug behavior nowhere to be found on his face, he was being completely serious.

“Oh…” you pause for a moment before continuing, “Can I ask for what? I’m not trying to be mean or anything or act dense. I seriously just don’t know why,” you make sure you add those claims at the end, feeling as if you were walking on eggshells.

He looks at you momentarily before placing his view on the trees in front of you, “For not getting there earlier,” he mutters, as if disappointed with himself, “I went out because Hobi had told me to go check up on you, but,” he stays silent for a moment before continuing, clenching his jaw, “at first I sorta shrugged him off when he asked me, it wasn’t until he asked me second time that I actually went outside,” his voice shakes a bit and you notice that his eyes become slightly glossy, “and then a woman came running up to me rambling about someone about to get beaten up, but the last person I thought she was talking about was you,” he exhales loudly before continuing, trying his best to maintain his composure, “but either way I ran towards wherever she was pointing at, and that’s when I saw you on the floor,” his voice cracks, “and I just keep replaying everything in my head, and I just—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m just sorry and I felt like you deserved to know that,” he concludes, a tear falling from his face.

And maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe he just really did feel bad, but to see Jungkook this vulnerable was different to say the least. It was almost humanizing in some aspects.

Jungkook expected you to scream at him, to tell him that it was his fault you were put in that situation. That he could’ve prevented it from happening, that because of him you almost got beat to a bloody pulp.

No, in fact he doesn't expect you to, he wants you to. It’s what he deserves to hear from you. Had it not been for him and his ego, he would’ve gone out there the moment Hobi had asked him to, and you would’ve never had to deal with that drunk excuse of a human being to begin with. Or was the alcohol in his system just seriously getting to him because God did he feel sick.

“Jungkook it’s not your fault,” you begin, but Jungkook who's still looking at the trees, refuses to make eye contact. “Hey look at me,” you demand, tugging his hand in an effort to get him to look at you. When he does so, you continue, “That man was going to attack me whether you came or not because a weak man like that will attack the easiest target,” you state, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “It was no one’s fault but his, you hear me?” you squeeze his hand, “Not yours, not mine, not Hobi’s, not the lady, no one. Absolutely no one.”

More tears begin to fall from his bloodshot eyes, “You don’t get it y/n,” he shakes his head, “You don’t what that man could’ve done to you in that time I wasn’t there, you could’ve been killed for God’s sake,” he attempts to say it firmly, but his voice betrays him by whimpering in the end.

“But he didn’t!” you say, and without thinking you place his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here look! All because of you! Yeah you didn’t get there as early as you wished you could’ve, but you got there nonetheless! And if you hadn’t I probably would be sporting a big old black eye on my face and have one cheek bigger than the other right now. I’d look like one of those chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks!” you laugh at your own joke, and for the first time ever, Jungkook laughs with you. His last first starting off as a small chuckle but the harder you laughed, the harder he did. The beginning to what would be you always hearing his high pitched laugh around the apartment, but let’s not get too far ahead right now.

They say when a human is drunk, they muster up the courage to do something they’d never do sober, but have always thought of doing in the back of their mind. It was often why people would blame a bold text to an ex on being “drunk” despite not taking one sip of their tequila shot, or why some people would excuse cheating on being “drunk” despite knowing it was something they wanted to do for a very long time. They were looking for an excuse to finally do it. And so now sitting here, with his hand caressed across your face, goofy grins plastered on your faces, he felt tempted to just kiss you.

It was weird really, yeah he thought you were cute, in fact there were days he’d found you hot, but anything past physical attraction had never really crossed his mind. To him, you’d always been and currently were his roommate who he found both superficial and performative.

The one who once attempted to hide her strawberry scented shampoo in her room during work, in hopes that he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it. The one who liked her jjolmyeon more on the sour side than the sweet. The one who occasionally made him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, despite him being asleep after a long night of work of barristering. The one who for some odd reason almost never watched Netflix on the TV, but instead would watch it on her laptop on the couch, thus rendering the TV completely useless.

And so to be here, finally appreciating the person that you were after what could’ve been a near-death experience was a bit of a wake up call. And yeah like you said, maybe he didn’t get here as early as he should’ve been, but he got here nonetheless. He smiles to himself, your words having a double meaning behind them.

But for now he wanted to preserve this feeling, because he knew he was drunk. He was so drunk that the tree behind you was beginning to look like it was moving towards him. And so rather than kiss you, he instead decides to simply tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, deciding that if he felt like this tomorrow morning when he was sober then it’d be something worth looking into.

“I’m telling you, if I ever see that man again—”

“It was like,” you count on your fingers, “9 months ago Jungkook, I doubt you even remember his face,” you cut off, patting his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, “you’d be surprised how good I am at remembering faces, so when I tell you I’m still waiting for the day I come across him again, I mean it!” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you sing, “Hey at least something good came out of it,” you smile.

Jungkook looks at you with uncertainty, “Which is?”

Your small smile then becomes a toothy grin, “We became friends!” you exclaim excitedly, “temporarily at least,” you laugh.

April 2019.

It had been about two weeks since the incident at the club. Jungkook having completely avoided you since, and no you weren’t paranoid because originally you thought you were. It first started off with you not seeing him at all around the apartment, which you excused with you two having different work schedules like always. But then you’d notice he wouldn’t even drink the coffee you would make for him in the morning, it being left there on the counter for the entire day.

And in the very rare moments you did manage to get a glimpse of him in the hallway either entering or exiting his room, the boy would completely avoid eye contact with you! But the final confirmation that told you he was avoiding you? He had bought his own shampoo and body wash for himself! Not just any kind, he bought an extra lather version of your own with exfoliating properties. And you didn’t if you could use it or not because, well because he was avoiding you!

It wasn’t like you two kissed or anything! The most that happened was that you two shared a laugh! So then why was he avoiding you like the freaking plague? After a week of thinking about every possible reason he could be, you had given up. You’d accepted that you were back at square one with him, but it wasn’t like you were ever at square two to begin with. And so that’s why yesterday when Hobi told you he’d be going on a morning/afternoon hike trip on Saturday with Namjoon, you were skeptical on how Jungkook would manage to avoid you.

It was also why this morning in bed, when you heard what sounded like furniture being moved at 7 in the freaking morning, you were unsure about getting up and saying something or remaining in bed. Luckily you didn’t have to think about it for too long because you soon heard the sound footsteps coming closer to your bedroom door. As a result, you quickly threw yourself under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

It definitely had to be Jungkook who had just entered your room, the heavy footsteps acting as a signal to you that it was. Your eyes widen when you hear the sound of your drawer being pulled open, “What the hell did he think he was doing? Should you turn around and scare him? Hmm. No,” you think to yourself because soon enough you felt a hand gently shake your body.

“Y/N,” he whispers, clearly in belief that you were asleep. You let him shake you around a little more, just to make your little “I’m just waking up” act a little more believable, “Y/N,” he repeats, and this time you begin to make groggy sounds. Actress of the Year Award : Check.

“Mm,” you hum, but you’re quickly jolted awake when you feel your covers get pulled off of you, “What are you—” you look up at Jungkook, who was dressed in complete workout gear. But what really had you concerned, was the workout clothing he had folded in his hands because well they were yours.

He tosses the matching pair of black leggings and sports bra, “Go change,” he sternly says, only causing you to look at him in further confusion.

“B-b-but-” Jungkook knows you’re about to not only complain, but ask many many questions. Because that’s just the type of person you are.

“Hobi told me you like buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, but that since yours always come out burnt and his come out too dull, that the only time you get to eat them is if you go to a breakfast restaurant,” you narrow your eyes at him, confused as to where this was leading to, “Well at the coffee shop I work at, we have a weekly Pancake Tuesday and well let’s just say a certain someone has been rated top pancake maker for 2 months now,” you quirk your brow in interest, continuing to listen, a smirk now on his face, “and let’s also say this certain someone has a stack of warm pancakes sitting there on the kitchen island, untouched and certainly uneaten.”

You quickly smile at what he was insinuating, “BUT you can only eat them if you get up, get ready and change in 5 minutes,” he looks at the clock, “starting now.” And in the blink of an eye you were up and running towards your restroom because certainly if that didn’t get you up and out of bed, he wasn’t sure what would.

Quickly you brush your teeth and fix up your hair a bit, curious to know what Jungkook had planned out. To think you thought he was avoiding you! Well he was … but that doesn’t matter anymore! Placing your shoes on you begin to make your way towards the living room, the thought of eating those buttermilk pancakes almost making your mouth drool. That was until you stepped into the living room, stopping dead in your tracks.

Your eyes glaze over everything, blinking veryyy slowly, in order to make sure you were seeing things correctly. Jungkook had transformed your living room into some kind of um … workout center? For boxing? He had everything from the red punching bag, the reflex bag, the speed ball, jump rope, mini dumbbells, and most importantly boxing mitts for some one-on-one training. Everything was an adequate enough size to fit in all into the living room, but not too big in a way that it couldn’t be stored in the extra closet you had in the hallway.

“Why did you—” Jungkook hands you a pair of shiny black boxing gloves, along with bandages.

“I’m going to teach you the basics of boxing,” he presses his lips together, “whether you like it or not,” he says.

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

“You don’t think what?” he looks at you in a way that tells you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m not really cut out for this kind of stuff,” you try to make an excuse for yourself anyway, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Because you have no experience, which is exactly why I’m going to teach you,” his brows draw together, a stern look on his face as he now makes eye contact with you, “You can’t just always expect someone to pop out of thin air and come to your rescue y/n, what happened two weeks ago was a mix of both good timing and sheer luck,” he sighs while pulling out a taser and pocket knife from his pocket, “and though this is helpful in many situations, you seem to forget to take these with you,” he scolds, “guess where they were the night at the club?” You stay silent, “the kitchen island,” he answers for you.

“Okay I get it, I get it,” you say, “I need to learn how to protect myself without using those,” you point to the items in his hand.

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he playfully pats your head, “so we’ll be doing this every weekend for the next eight weeks, from 7AM till 2PM. We might even throw an occasional weekday night in there if I don’t get out of work too late.”

“7AM?!” you shriek, “Oh no no no, you sir are crazy,” you protest, shaking your head in denial, “No amount of pancakes will have me waking up that early every weekend.”

“Oh come on! The more hours you do, the better you’ll get!” he bargains with you, catching you off guard by throwing his arm around your shoulder, your cheeks going red as a result.

“Jungkook,” you dramatically cry out, ready to stomp your feet on the floor like a little kid, the only thing preventing you was you not wanting the downstairs neighbors to come up and complain.

He tightens his grip on you, “Come onnnnn,” he sings, “I’ll let you use my new body wash with the exfoliating properties,” he teases you, having heard you complain to Hobi one morning about being unsure of whether or not you could use it. You truly were too kind for your own good, cause if the situations were reversed, Jungkook would’ve just gone ahead and used it.

You narrow your eyes at him once again, “More like you’re buying me one of my own!” you demand and he nods in agreement, “Also, where did you even manage to get all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as to how he managed to buy all this.

“Um let’s just say I have a buddy at the boxing gym who didn’t really need these anymore,” you stare at him suspiciously, but decide to shrug it off. You’d ask him more questions some other day, but for now all you wanted was to eat those pancakes!

Hobi opens the door to his shared apartment, exhausted from the hike he just had this morning and honestly ready to just hop into bed and sleep. That was until he saw the transformation of his living room in front of his very own eyes, his skin paling and mouth gaping in shock.

“What the—” he whispers, preparing to scream out your names like a parent walking in their house only to find it destroyed by their teenagers, but before he could the sound of something stops him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of soft snores.

Walking towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the long couch, a smile immediately appears on his face when he comes to see the view in front of him. You were on one side of the couch while Jungkook was on the other, both of your feet stretched out and touching in the middle, napping away. Hobi personally thought he was dreaming, this being a view he never thought he’d see.

Wanting to preserve the memory, he grabs his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app, snapping the photo in silence, tempted to edit and post the photo with little clouds above each other's heads and make up some witty caption. But he’d save it for some other day. For now, he was just happy you two were finally getting along.

“Ah I had forgotten how that photo came to be,” Jungkook laughs, looking at the photo on your Iphone screen, “you were tired from working out, while I was tired from having to watch you continuously mess around with the equipment,” he pokes fun at you. Not like it wasn’t true, that day you kept going back to the speed ball, aimlessly hitting it in hopes that at some point you’d magically become fast at hitting it like in the movies.

“Hey, I’m pretty decent at doing everything now,” you flash him a cheesy smile. After several weeks of consistent training and long hours, you were definitely at a point where you could adequately defend yourself from someone ranging from a small petite woman to around a medium sized man. Luckily, you haven't come across a situation that has required you to to do so nor do you ever hope to, but it was comforting to know that if something ever did happen, then you were ready. But, your taser and pocket knife would always be your first go to, no matter what.

“You’re…” Jungkook pauses, “okay,” he breathes, huffing a quiet laugh. Out of impulse you flash him the finger, showing off your freshly manicured fingers. “Aren’t you rude,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

You roll your eyes, “You’re the one who taught me,” you laugh, and Jungkook places his hand on his chest, looking at you with a dramatic offended look on his face.

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

“Yes you! How could I forget,” you look at him accusingly.

“No I taught you how to stop faking a smile, and to start putting a foot down people’s neck,” he shrugs, “not to go sticking out the middle finger,” he jokes, and you only roll your eyes again, grumbling a small “Mm.”

May 2019.

To your surprise, you had been managing to consistently wake up and work out every weekend with Jungkook, with him even being able to up your usual workout plan at a drastic rate. You’d shed a couple of pounds and to your surprise could even see some muscle beginning to form, but today, well today was your monthly lazy day.

Lazy day was the one day of the month where you and Hobi would push everything off your schedule, from calling off of work, to making sure everything in the apartment was clean, and buying snacks the night before in order to make sure you wouldn’t have to step out of the apartment. It was usually picked the month before by either you or Hobi closing your eyes and randomly pointing somewhere on the calendar, and whatever day your index finger managed to land on would be the day. And well today was that day.

But when Hobi told you yesterday night that a family emergency was going to have to bring lazy day to a temporary halt because he had to drive back to Busan, which in itself was a three hour trip from Seoul, you had already called the day off weeks prior as your job wasn’t as lenient on last minute call offs. The contract you signed stating in small print, “any day off must be requested, sent in, and approved 2 weeks prior to the date said employee is asking for.”

And so this morning when Jungkook entered your room to find you completely knocked out with drool coming out of your mouth, he was surprised to say the least. On weekday mornings, he would almost always wake up to find himself alone in the apartment considering both you and Hobi have day jobs, so hearing snores come out of your room had definitely caught him off guard.

He debated on whether he should be annoying and wake you up and then force you to work out or be a nice roommate and make you breakfast. Let’s just say he didn’t choose the latter. Grabbing one of the stuffed animals that you weren’t hugging, he throws it at your head, a grunt coming out of your mouth after.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, morning voice in full effect, “let me sleep please,” you say, switching to the other side, in hopes that he’d leave.

“No, you need to work out,” he says, beginning to nag.

Turning around again, this time to face him, you look at him with your eyes half-way open, “Today’s lazy day,” you deadpan, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What the hell is, quote on quote, lazy day?” he asks, lifting a brow. Rubbing your eyes along with eye boogers in the corners, you begin to stretch your arms and legs, not caring if he was staring.

Sighing once you were ready to respond, you then answer, “Lazy day is the one day of the month that me and Hobi take a day off of work to well … be lazy,” he stares at you with an innocent look on his face, “butttttt,” a mischievous smile appears on your face, “since Hobi cancelled on me, now you’re going to be lazy partner for the day.” His face twists in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, go call the café, and tell em you’re taking the day off,” you smile, now getting up from bed.

“And why would I do that?” Jungkook asks, the question coming off a little harsher than intended, but you were quick to shrug it off, already accustomed to the occasional attitude.

“Becauseeeeee,” you sing, “When was the last time you’ve taken a day off, I mean look at you right now! You’re already dressed comfortably,” you eye him up and down, he was currently in work out clothing which for him consisted of an oversized grey sweater and joggers, “do you really wanna get all sweaty and then have to shower, change, and go to work… cause I don’t think you do,” you raise your eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner as he avoids eye contact with you.

His eyes look around your room, clearly thinking to himself. A lazy day huh? Hmm you did make a point, he really couldn’t remember the last time he’s just lounged around and done nothing, as he was always doing something whether it be working out, working, going out, etc.

He looks back at you once he’s made his decision, letting out a huff of air, “Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial the coffee shop, a tiny squeal coming from you.

“I thought lazy day meant no going out,” Jungkook complains while pushing the grocery cart around, following you and your need to go up and down each and every aisle at the store.

“It does, but since Hobi and I couldn’t go grocery shopping the night before,” you grab some strawberry lemonade from the freezer and place it in the cart, “someone has to help carry the groceries up the stairs,” you catch him rolling his eyes, “your eyes will get stuck up there if you keep doing that,” you comment, grabbing packaged ramen from the counter beside you.

“Yeah, Yeah—” Jungkook stares at what’s in your hands wide eyed, “No, no, no! What are you doing?” You jump in surprise, dropping the package on the floor.

“Wh-what?” your face flushes in surprise, his outburst completely catching you off guard.

“Shin Ramyun?! What happened to getting Paldo Bibimmyeon?! Do you have no loyalty?” he scrunches his face up, in clear distress at what he just caught you doing. At first you don’t think he’s serious, this being some stupid joke he was making, but once you got a glimpse of the stare he was giving you, you’d soon come to realize that he was not playing around at all.

“It’s be-be-because,” you begin to stutter under his scrutiny, “these are buy three, get two free,” you lopsidedly smile, an awkward laugh feigning from your lips. He shakes his head, snatching the ramen from your hands and placing it on its original spot before then grabbing his Paldo Bibimmyeon.

“Choosing price over quality, are you crazy?” he mutters under his breath before pushing the cart past you and making his way to the checkout line, leaving you there momentarily flabbergasted.

Once you caught up to him you were ready to tell him something until you heard the sound of someone calling your name, “Y/N?” you turn around, surprised to see Jimin in the line next to you.

“Oh Jimin!” you smile, softly waving at the newly blonde-haired boy, his roots telling you that the hair job was recent. Jimin offers his hand out to Jungkook. Jungkook, at first hesitant, shakes it in return, “You remember Jimin, right? He was with us on New Years, he was supposed to come partying with us last time, but he flaked last minute,” Jungkook slowly nods remembering the boy wrapping his arm around you during the countdown while Jimin on the other hand raises his hands to his defense.

“Even a person like me can get burnt out every here and then,” he laughs, “but next time I’ll be sure to be on the dance floor,” he winks at you, his natural flirty personality making its appearance. Jungkook awkwardly coughs, pushing the cart forward to get your attention back in the moving line.

You feel your hands get a bit clammy, Jimin always being someone you did have a bit of a crush on, never pursuing anything because of your long-term friendship with him. But of course that didn’t mean he didn’t get an occasional blush out of you here and there. “So how have you been since the last time I saw you? It’s been quite a while—”

And just as you’re about to answer, Jungkook interrupts, “Y/N,” he says, nudging you to tell you that it was time to pay.

“Ah I guess I’ll just see you around then,” Jimin chuckles, waving a small goodbye.

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

“Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, unbeknownst to you, the green eyed monster was beginning to make its appearance. Any longer and horns would probably start sprouting out his ears.

Once you two finish paying and bagging everything, you walk towards Jungkook’s new black Hyundai which he had bought only a couple of weeks ago after months of what he calls “busting his ass” off and using most of his savings up for. You hum a tiny tune while helping him place all the bags in the trunk.

“So…” Jungkook awkwardly begins, second guessing whether he should continue asking the question he had in his mind before deciding to just do it anyway, “Is that like your boyfriend or something?”

Immediately you stop humming, staring at Jungkook wide-eyed, “Oh no, no!” you quickly deny, “No, No, no,” you repeat, shaking your head. The redness of your cheeks tell another story.

“Hm,” Jungkook mumbles, “sorta looked like it,” he deadpans before going to put the cart in its designated spot, leaving you there confused as to what that meant.

After a couple of hours of lounging around in the apartment and binging Narcos: Mexico on the TV rather than your laptop because of Jungkook’s complaints, the two of you were now eating your ramen on the kitchen island, quietly seated on the tall chairs. The sound of Jungkook slurping his noodles filling the room.

“What did you mean by Jimin being my boyfriend or something?” you suddenly ask out of nowhere, the question having been on your mind for a majority of the day.

Jungkook takes a final gulp of his food before responding, “I don’t know,” he nonchalantly shrugs, “you were gawking at him like a schoolgirl seeing her crush in the hallway,” he says, “thought you two had something going on, or at least on your part,” he reiterates.

“I did not stare at him like some schoolgirl!” you deny, taking offense to his analogy, “He’s j-jus—”

“J-just someone you clearly have a crush on,” he mocks your flusteredness, “I see and here a part of me thought it thought it was two-sided,” he smirks.

“It’s not sided on either way,” you protest, “Jimin is just a friend,” you clarify, putting your foot down.

“How do you even know the dude?” he asks. He knew you and Hobi met during college, and that Hobi was in some club with Yoongi and Namjoon which explains how you met them. He also knew that Seokjin and Taehyung came into the picture after some college frat party, but Jimin, well he didn’t know too much about Jimin. Just that he clearly felt comfortable enough to have his arm around you during New Years.

“I met him during my first year of performing at Busan Arts College, that was before I transferred to Seoul National where I’d then meet Hobi,” Jungkook’s ears perk up, several questions now running through his head.

“An arts college? In Busan?”

“Yeah, like a school for dance majors, drawing, theatre, music, film, modelling, sports, interior design, animation, and et cetera,” you smile softly while explaining, “I was an art major, painting to be specific, and along the scopes of watercolors and abstractness.”

Jungkook hums, his curiosity still not completely fulfilled, “So why’d you transfer?” he asks the big question.

“Oh..” you know you shouldn’t be, but for some reason you are slightly taken back by his blunt question, “because..” you sigh, “um something happened that well um I just thought it’d be best to transfer, and well my math skills weren’t too rusty for the entrance exam and my credits were exceptional for transferring and so I just took the leap and left. Met Hobi, we became roommates, decided to stay roommates even after graduating and well now I’m an accountant.”

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, surprised that there was more to you than meets the eye. He would’ve never guessed that you were into painting, “I stayed in touch with Jimin, introduced him to my new group of friends and well yeah, that’s that,” you finish explaining, “He was a dance major, just in case you were curious,” you add, “He now works at a contemporary dance company here in Seoul, very deep with connections in the arts industry,” So that’s who Jimin was huh? Cool... but now Jungkook was much more curious about you.

“Do you ever paint?” he asks another question, completely finished with his meal and at this point only staying for the conversation. It was weird, had it been anyone else asking you these questions you wouldn't have dared entertain it any further, probably finding some way to maneuver out of it. But for Jungkook to ask whether it be from a place of nosiness or simple curiosity, hell maybe even boredom, for some reason you just didn’t mind.

“Um not really, not anymore at least, especially these days that work is beginning to pile up but,” you hesitate for a moment before continuing, “I still have some of my old work somewhere under my bed, probably in a storage box knowing me.”

“Can I see them?”

And just as you’re about to answer, your phone’s ringing sound goes off. The person calling? Jimin. You hesitate to answer, glancing at Jungkook who was staring at your phone, presumably reading the name. Once he does, he looks at you in a way that was asking, “Are you going to pick up?”

You click the green button to accept, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, unsure if it was you.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Um so I was actually meaning to call for quite a while,” Jungkook tries his best not to make it obvious that he’s listening in, “and so when I ran into you and your friend at the market it served as a complete reminder.”

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

“Well I was hoping we could catch up over some dinner, and then I could tell you something very important that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” From Jimin? “I was thinking this Saturday like at 7? I’ll pick you up.”

“Oh um..” for some reason you look at Jungkook for advice, but he just stares at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah sure, why not?” you awkwardly laugh.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then! Byeeeee,” he sings before clicking, leaving you on the line. Did that call really just happen? Or were just imagining things?

“I think—” you gulp, “I think I have a date this Saturday?” you say unsurely, a small dumbfounded smile beginning to appear on your face.

He notices the goofy smile beginning to appear on your face, before letting out a large exasperated breath and feigning his best smile. The forced smile comes out quite awkward, “With Park Jimin?” Park Jimin your college friend. Park Jimin, the successful contemporary dancer. Park Jimin, the one who looked like he came straight out of a magazine cover. That Park Jimin? Jungkook on the other hand could feel his eyebrow impulsively twitch in response, the green eyed monster creeping from behind, ready to make its return.

You nod your head yes, Jungkook now getting up from the chair, a negative energy now around him. “So much for it being a zero sided thing,” he mutters before practically throwing his dish into the sink and stomping out the kitchen, leaving you completely by yourself.

“Weird,” you think to yourself before heading off to bed.

Saturday had surprisingly arrived in the blink of an eye despite the extra hours of working out Jungkook had thrown in the morning. It was almost as if the boy wanted you to be on your date exhausted and halfway knocked out. Out of nowhere, deciding that today was the best day to start working on more leg targeted exercises, as a result your legs now felt like jell-o with every step you took.

“I’m gonna get going you guys,” you announce to the boys in the living room, who were currently on the couch watching an episode of One Piece.

Hobi turns his attention from the screen to look at you, immediately smiling at your outfit, “Ahh look at you,” he compliments, Jungkook on the other hand or silently watches you as you grab your keys from the countertop. “Doesn’t she look pretty Jungkook?” Hobi asks, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook remains silent, which oddly enough resulted in a heavy feeling in your chest. “Now she’s sad!” Hobi scolds, “Tell her she looks pretty,” Hobi pushes Jungkook’s shoulder this time.

“You look…” Jungkook pauses, and for a moment both you and Hobi hold your breath, for Jungkook’s mouth was quite unpredictable sometimes, “You look more than pretty,” he says with a warm look on his face before catching himself and going back to his usual expressionless face and turning his attention back to the screen. Hobi who looks like he’s about to tease the hell out Jungkook once you leave, struggles to hide the big grin on his face. While you, well you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Well get going now! And don’t come back too late!” Hobi teases, loving the persona of acting like a parent a little too much.

Was thinking about your roommate regular for a date? Because that’s what you found yourself doing … a lot. From the moment you had stepped into Jimin’s car your immediate comparison was to Jungkook’s own car. Once he started driving, your mind went to how unlike Jimin who drove with both hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook liked driving with one. More specifically his left.

And of course being on a date you expect conversation to be flowing all around even when you’re waiting on the food, but for some reason you had become so used to Jungkook always being silent until he was nearly finished with his food, that when Jimin began to make conversation while waiting definitely felt … odd for you to say the least. And don’t even get you started on what he ended up ordering. Well done steak?! Jungkook hated well done steak, preferring medium rare over anything. And so to say your roommate had been constantly on your mind this whole time was a bit of an understatement.

Currently the two of you were walking on the bridge of a local park, the several number of lampposts and people all around you making it less scary than compared to that night at the park with Jungkook. “So Y/N how’s your year been so far?” Jimin asks, a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s been,” you pause, thinking about the person who came into your life only months ago, “it’s been pretty good.”

“That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he repeats, the two of you now sitting on a bench, “So I know I told you I had some important news,” he begins, “and it’s something I’ve been really wanting to talk to you about for a very long time,” he insinuates, “and so if you could close your eyes for a moment that’d be great,” you do as follows, and close your eyes, Your heart begins to race but it wasn’t the same kind of racing you felt that night at the park with Jungkook. It was more of a “what am I doing here?” kind of nervousness so to speak. Nonetheless you shrug the feeling off.

Jimin, who was originally supposed to be getting an exhibition flyer out of his coat, notices that you have what looks to be a leaf in your hair. Deciding that it was bothering him too much he goes and reaches for it, surprised to be in contact with your lips seconds later. Quickly he pulls away, staring at you wide eyed. Both of your faces now tomato red, as he struggles to form words.

Eyes still widened, he pulls out the folded paper from jacket, once unfolded it reads, “Seoul City’s Annual Public Art Exhibition with a special performance by Seoul’s Contemporary Dance Academy choreographed by Park Jimin.”

“Oh my God—” you manage to breath out, coming to the realization that kissing you was not his attention.

He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, yeah, I’m this year’s choreographer for the city's art exhibition and well I managed to get you a slot so that you could have your very first art piece exhibited,” Jimin feigns an awkward smile, “You know since you’re a painter first before an accountant.” You, still hung up on what was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life, stare at him in complete silence. Everything barely registering in your head.

“Y/N…” he begins the dreadful pity speech by grabbing your hand, “I um,” he lets out an awkward chuckle before continuing, “I like you, I do, but not in that way…”

In the movies, this is where you’re supposed to feel as if your world was crashing down on you, the part where your heart is supposed to sink in complete sadness and you go home a complete crying mess. But rather than feel any of those things, you instead feel …. relief? Yeah, you kissing the boy was embarrassing, but it wasn’t something that was gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. Maybe for a week or two, but not definitely not the rest of your life.

Jimin wonders what’s going through your mind, the apparent smile that suddenly grew on your face telling him that things were going to be just fine, “I sorta um had my eyes on someone else in our friend group…” and with that he gets your attention because you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Taehyung,” you say, and Jimin silently nods, a laugh emitting from both of your lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, that Jungkook dude seemed like was going to lunge at me any second over there at the supermarket,” Jimin says, “I thought you two were a thing at first.”

You laugh in disbelief, “Me and Jungkook?” you say, scrunching your face.

“Um yeah, it’s not really something shocking,” Jimin laughs, “I mean you two definitely looked like a couple that day, very much doing um couple-like things. Maybe not affectionate wise but I don’t know there were definitely looks and glances being exchanged. But if you say there’s nothing between you two then who am I to argue?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly, who are you to argue,” you dramatically snarl, Jimin throwing his head back in laughter.

“So y/n what do you say about participating in the art exhibition? You know you want toooo,” Jimin sings, pouting his lips. You had forgotten about that for a moment, the embarrassment of the kiss completely fazing you out.

“Oh I don’t know,” you nervously say, you hadn’t seriously painted in such a long time, that chapter in your life being a closed book for quite some time now.

“But y/n—” Jimin begs, “This could be the moment you’ve been waiting for, there’s going to be a lot of professional artists there along with buyers.”

“I just—” something was holding you back from saying yes. Was it fear? Maybe. All you knew was that you couldn't dive into something that you had long given up on, “I don’t think I can,” you ultimately say.

Jimin frowns, “You sure? I can’t hold the slot for too long, and well I was so sure you’d say yes..” You sigh before nodding, confirming that you were saying no.

“Ah okay,” Jimin says, completely understanding, “Come on let’s get you home,” to which you nod, a small sad smile on your face.

By the time you got back home, you wondered if the boys’ were asleep already, hoping at least one of them was awake to talk to, more specifically Hobi, for he always knew what to say when you needed comfort. And so when you opened the door to find the TV still on, but no one in the living room, you were confused to say the least.

You walk towards Hobi’s room, crack open the door, and peep your head in only to find him sound asleep. Did that mean Jungkook was up? Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the TV… with your curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to go Jungkook’s room and check if he was there. With your hand on the knob, you begin to twist it, slowly opening the door until a voice scares you from behind, “What are you doing?” he harshly whispers causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you whisper as well, closing his door immediately, “I-I-I thought you were,” you point at his door, unable to complete your sentence.

“I was peeing,” he says, “Did you not see the light on?”

Shaking your head no, you ask, “What are you even doing up this late?”

Jungkook awkwardly stammers, “I um, I just couldn’t sleep,” he says instead of admitting that secretly he was waiting for you to arrive, just to make sure you were safe. Nothing else of course, not like he wanted to know how your date went… “Why are you going into my room without my permission?” he questions.

You scoff, “You always go in mine!” you try your best to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake up a grumpy Hobi, “Why can’t I go in yours?”

“Because you’ve never told me anything against me going into yours,” he argues, “Just because we’re um,” he pauses, struggling to say the word that comes next, “friends… doesn’t mean you get to go snooping around.” What the hell was he hiding in there that you couldn’t go in?

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you complain, ready to cross your arms and complain like a kid, that is until he flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow,” you cry, “What was that for?” you groan, and he shrugs in response.

“I don’t know I just felt like doing it,” he smirks, “your forehead just looks so … flickable.” You narrow your eyes, quickly flicking his in return, garnering an “ow” from him as well.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that,” he says, and quickly but also softly because you didn’t want to stomp too hard on the floor, you run back to the living room, the two of you now chasing each other around, index fingers ready for some more flicking. Maniacal fits of giggles filling the room as you begin to throw pillows at each other, running around the kitchen island like little kids.

Jungkook, despite being the faster runner, was the one being chased. The closer you got to him, the further you began to reach your arm for his t-shirt, your fingertips always grazing the bottom. But once you finally did, something very unexpected happened. You tripped.

Soon enough, you were hands down on the floor, Jungkook below you, a casualty of your fall. The two of you now facing each other, chests heaving from your game of tag, laughing uncontrollably. Not exactly caring if Hobi, the neighbors, or the rest of the world could hear you.

Gradually, you get off him and instead lay on the kitchen floor right next him, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. A comfortable silence in the air. If someone would’ve told you at the beginning of the year that you and Jungkook would be playing tag in the apartment like little kids, you would’ve told them they were crazy. But yet here you were, heart pounding out of your chest, wanting this moment to remain for as long as it possibly could.

“So…” Jungkook continues to stare at the ceiling, “How’d your date go?”

“It was…” you use the only word that could properly describe it, “embarrassing,” you giggle, recalling what happened. Jungkook looks at you, eager to say the least, to know why.

“Let’s just say I ummm … took some signs completely wrong,” you awkwardly chuckle, “or long story short, I sorta kissed him and well let’s just say he has his eyes on someone else in our friend group.”

Was it wrong for Jungkook to feel happy? Happy that you two didn’t have insane chemistry, become boyfriend and girlfriend, and live happily ever after after like in the fairytales. Of course he wasn’t happy that it was you who went for the kiss, nor that it was who you got rejected, but it was better than you coming in here raving on about Park Jimin, no offense to Jimin.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s fine really,” you laugh, “what’s weird was that I didn’t really feel as heartbroken or as sad as I thought I’d be,” you shrug, “I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our friendship or anything. If anything I’m sad about what he offered... “

“What did he offer?” Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but you’re quick to shake your head and sigh.

“He offered me a spot at Seoul’s annual art exhibition, I guess since he choreographed a dance, he was able to talk them into giving him a spot and well I said no,” Jungkook frowns, wondering why you didn’t take the offer, “I just couldn’t see myself doing it… I haven’t painted in what feels like forever and to then have it be seen by thousands of people, yeah I can already feel the anxiety from that. One bad comment and I’m going to have to fake a smile the whole time and cry when I get home.”

Jungkook scoffs, “Who cares what others think? Screw them. I know that it’s rich coming from me, but if you think those people who may insult you or throw some sly comment to get under your skin are better than you in any way then let me tell you, they’re not. And who says you have to take their shit? Stop feeling as if you have to always put on some fake smile for people in order to spare their feelings and start looking out for your own,” Jungkook sits up, looking down on you. “So you know what you’re going to do?”

You stare at him in silence, murmuring a tiny “what?”

“You’re going to text Jimin right now and tell him you’re taking that spot,” Jungkook demands, “and if you don’t then I’ll call him myself and do it for you.” Now it’s your turn to sit yourself right up, waiting for a sign in his eyes that told you he was purely kidding. “Well what are you waiting for?” He eyes your pockets, waiting for you to reach for your phone.

“Jungko—”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you’re not feeling sad because you know you’re going to regret saying no to the opportunity,” Jungkook’s voice raises without meaning to, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I don’t have to see a single painting of yours to know that you’re talented, and if people can’t see that then honestly it’s their loss.” You feel your heart swell with every word, slowly pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook gets up from his position, offering his hand to help pull you up. Once he pulls you, he walks towards the fridge, and takes two pints of ice cream out the freezer. Your face lights up as you watch him get two spoons from the drawer, “Don’t hold it against me, but I bought these after you left just in case you came back a crying mess,” he avoids eye contact with you while handing you your pint, “But heartbreak or not, someone has to eat these. So come on, send that text so we can watch some One Piece.”

“Imagine you would’ve never convinced me to do the art exhibition,” you laugh, gently nudging Jungkook.

“Mm though it could’ve prevented a lot of things, the good definitely outweighed the bad so…” Jungkook pauses, “I guess it just goes to show you have to go through the downs in order to reap the rewards of the up.”

“Now look who's getting all wordy on me,” you tease.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me more than I’d like to admit,” he pretends to be annoyed by dramatically sighing but a laugh soon follows.

June 2019.

After texting Jimin that you had changed your mind, you began to work on the painting you had brainstormed for the art exhibition, first sketching it out and now well on your way to starting your quite large painting.

Honestly, pulling out your old art tools and portfolio from years ago was nostalgic, bringing you a genuine sense of completeness. To have a decent paying job, the best of friends, and now being able to practice the hobby you had once considered turning into a career was everything you could ask for. But what made you feel even warmer inside was just how supportive Jungkook was of the whole thing, always buying and bringing back art materials for you to use, including different colors of paint. Though most of the time they weren’t really what you considered the best quality, it was the thought that counted.

After your boxing lessons with him, you’d usually go straight to your room to begin working on it, for the first time since you stopped painting feeling actual motivation and creativity flowing through you. Life was good. Not good, amazing.

That was until today, when you noticed Jungkook hadn’t woken you up for your usual Saturday workout. “Maybe he overslept?” you think to yourself, probably had a tiresome night at work yesterday. Slowly you make your way outside his door, gently knocking on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing. Not a groan, not a “let me sleep”, absolutely nothing. You knock one more time just to make sure, your shoulders dropping once you realize he wasn’t going to open the door. Remembering what he said about entering his room, you decide that if he was having a bad day, it’d just be best to leave him be for the meanwhile.

Things didn’t really start getting alarming until you and Hobi both noticed that he skipped breakfast. His door remaining absolutely closed the whole morning and day, not a peep of sound coming out.

“Hobi, I’m starting to get worried,” your eyes glimmer with concern, “He hasn’t come out all day.”

“I know I am too, but—” Hobi sighs, “I don’t want to pressure him into—” the sound of a door opening quickly grabs your guys’ attention, the two of you silently watching Jungkook come out of his room. The time on the clock reading 6PM, the sun outside beginning to set. Carefully you watch Jungkook come into the kitchen, grabbing nothing more than a water bottle and a couple of snacks.

There’s a redness to his eyes that you’d never seen before, almost as if he had been sobbing. His under eyes were in the early stages of becoming puffy, and his skin seemed a lot paler than usual. You feel your heart sink when the two of you, for a mere second, make eye contact. Quietly he begins to make his way back to his room, but not before you offer him some food.

“Y/N—” Hobi tries to stop you, but you continue nonetheless.

“I made japchae,” you say, “I even added extra mushrooms like how you always like it,” he stares at you in silence, a cold look to his eyes before ignoring you and returning to his room. The door slamming shut once he does. If your heart was sunk already, then it was definitely stomped and ripped into pieces after that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, feeling Hobi’s stare from the side. Suddenly the volume of the TV is lowered and you already know what's coming, “Y/N…” you hear Hobi say, a sad tone behind his voice.

“Hobi don’t,” you cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to receive his pity, “I just don’t feel like hearing it right now.”

Hobi ignores you, knowing you were just putting up a wall as a defense mechanism, “You know he didn’t mean it,” he says, “he’s probably just having a rough day that’s all.”

“Even if he is, why does he still feel the need to just keep it to himself, why can’t he see that he can trust us, that he can trust me? Sometimes it feels like he knows a lot more about me than I know about him—” you rant, trying to keep your voice down so that Jungkook doesn’t hear you from his room.

Hobi sighs, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket and keys from the counter, “Put on your shoes,” he says, and you look at him confused before doing as he says and following him outside. The two of you then climb up the fire ladder of your apartment and onto the roof, the view of the stars sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay now sit—” he commands, which you do anyway.

“Why are we even out here?” you question, regretting not bringing your own sweater.

“Because I’m going to tell you a story, and well I don’t want Jungkook hearing us,” he says, making himself comfortable in the spot next to you, “You ready?”

Silently you nod your head yes, and so he continues.

“When I was a kid, I was what you could call ...nerdy … so to speak,” he chuckles, “I had those big ol glasses that made you look like you had fish eyes, I liked reading the Harry Potter books, I didn’t like playing sports like the rest of the boys in my elementary school did, and well in general I just wasn’t like a lot of them,” he pauses to look up at the sky, continuing once he was ready, “Now when you’re in elementary, kids won’t directly bully you, but instead they’ll make little teasing remarks because well ...we’re kids. We don’t know the big curse words yet or what we’re capable of physically. And so as a kid I’d let those jokes slide, I’d let their insults become the label put on me, not knowing the true maliciousness behind it.”

You feel your eyes become glossy, knowing where this was leading, “But the older you get, the more you begin to learn and well soon enough the teasing became full on bullying by middle school. The older kids would make these nicknames for me, and constantly call me them before, during, and after school. Occasionally even following me for a couple of blocks when walking home just to remind me that they had power over me,” Hobi’s voice begins to shake a little, “and well I didn’t know how to speak up for myself, let alone defend myself and so it just became a regular occurrence until on a certain day in middle school,” he pauses, taking a big breath.

“I had been walking home from school that day, and for some reason that day I decided I wanted to take a different route back home, probably because I was hoping the kids who would bully me would decide not to follow me. But boy was I was wrong,” he feigns a laugh, “The route I had taken was right next to the Suyeong River, and well I think it’s important to note that I didn’t know how to swim at the time. I think I personally choose not to remember too much, but one moment I was walking and the next I had my face being pulled in and out of the water, the sounds of laughter being the thing I remember the most from that day,” Hobi closes his eyes, his voice cracking as he continues, “And I just remember thinking how could kids my age be so viscous?” tears begin to silently fall from his eyes, his hands slightly shaking at the recollection of the memory, “I thought this was it, this is the end of the line for me.”

“It wasn’t until I felt the release of my hair and the touch of someone pulling back that the nightmare came to an end,” Hobi wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “When I finally managed to get some kind of focus on my vision, I’d come to see the boy who was pushing me into the water completely knocked out the floor while the rest of his buddies were running to who knows where,” The scene from the club begins to replay in your head, remembering the person who had gotten there just at the right time.

“And then there was Jungkook, the boy I’d never seen a day in my life , helping me fix myself along with looking for my glasses even after having knocked out that boy with his bare hands. After that me and Jungkook became the best of friends, like actual genuine friends and the bullying had completely stopped. I’d also come to find out that Jungkook was a boxer, and not a casual one, like an “I practice every weekday, weekend, day, and night.” kind of one. He was aiming to go pro, and so he had to put in the time for it. His parents were supportive of it as well, as I think his dad saw the most potential in it.”

Hobi takes a breather before continuing, finding yourself completely immersed in the story, “And so when our senior year came around and I had gotten accepted into SNU, I asked Jungkook what he was planning on doing now that we were graduating. And well that’s when he told me that had gotten an offer to train and compete in the states, where there’d be a lot more tougher competition and where he could really develop the natural talent he had. So on graduation day we had our teary farewell, and I remember telling him that if he ever needed anything and I truly meant anything, that he’d know where to find me.”

“So when years later I received a call at about 2 in the morning, asking if he could redeem the favor he had once done for me so long ago, I knew I couldn’t say no. I don’t know what happened in the states, and I don’t bother to ask him because I know that the day he’s ready to tell me or you, he will. Whatever did happen over there, changed him though. He came back a colder, more rude person, and honestly I thought he’d be like that forever until he started to get to know you,” Hobi smiles, “That’s when I began to see glimpses of the Jungkook I knew from high school again, the one who liked to mess around all the time, and never took himself too seriously.”

“You see y/n, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know that Jungkook isn’t like us in the way of opening up when he feels sad or mad. He’s used to being the one doing all the protecting and so when he finds himself in a place where he’s overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness or anger, he gives the cold shoulder or becomes someone who isn’t like him at all, in order to avoid talking about it. I think it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know the burden he carries. To sum it up y/n, Jungkook is the definition of when it rains, it pours … but when it shines, you’ll completely forget it ever rained to begin with,” Hobi pats you softly on the shoulder, “So the best thing you can do right now is let the storm play itself out, so that then you can be there when the rainbow comes back out.”

If only you had listened.

“Ahh so it was Hobi who told you everything,” Jungkook scrunches his face.

“No duhhhhh,” you sing, “Who else could have?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought you just magically figured it out on your own,” you’re unsure on whether he’s being sarcastic or not so all you is narrow your eyes at him, deciding to stay silent than make yourself look stupid.

“Mm either way Hobi made a BIG mistake telling me,” you laugh, “because he should've known my nosiness was only going to lead to problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Jungkook teases, resulting in a light smack to the shoulder.

July 2019.

It had been about a month since Jungkook’s change in behavior, his cold demeanor reminding you of when he first moved in months ago. The only time he’d ever leave his room was to go to work, use the restroom, or get his food to take to his room. You had been working on your painting whenever you got the chance, a distraction from the constant concern you felt for Jungkook. You know Hobi said to give it time, but how long would it be until Jungkook decided to finally open up? He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he?

You missed the Jungkook you had gotten to know in the last couple of months, the one who showed you that the tough wall he put up around him was nothing more than an act. That behind it, he was a complete sweetheart who liked drinking his banana milk and watching One Piece whenever he had the chance, the one who constantly liked to steal your things from your room and then replace them with an even better version, the one whose laugh sorta reminded you of Elmo but was still absolutely adorable, and lastly the one who you had found constantly by your side and falling further in love with every waking moment.

Not like, but love. You had come to realize it while you were in bed one night, your only thoughts being thunk all relating to Jungkook in some way. Remembering the number of times this month where you’d find yourself outside his bedroom door, inches away from knocking, knowing that all you needed was for him to open up the door at least once and you’d know everything was going to be okay. Sadly, you’d always find yourself chickening out, Hobi’s words always ringing in your head to serve as a reminder. Jungkook needed space. And as much as you wanted to run up to him and give him a tight hug, you knew you had to respect his boundaries.

So then why was it that today, when you found yourself painting and missing a certain color, a tiny voice in your head was telling you that maybe Jungkook had it… Realistically you knew it wasn’t possible, you had kept track of all your colors from the moment you started, but damn was that voice convincing.

Getting up from the floor, you walk out into the living room, checking around to see if it was there. Hobi, who was currently taking a nap on the couch, seemed completely at peace.

You check his room to see if he has it, but your efforts were to no avail. The only place it had to be was Jungkook’s room. It had to be. At least that’s what you were telling yourself so could finally have an excuse to knock on his door. Making your way to his room, you prepare to knock, your knuckles lightly tapping against the wooden door. But to your surprise the door creaks open, no one presumably in the room…

You could’ve sworn Jungkook was home? You double check the restroom, making sure it wasn’t going to be an incident like last time, but this time he really wasn’t there. The voice of reasoning versus temptation now had you completely torn. You remember the day Jungkook first moved in, and how secretive he got over you seeing whatever it was inside his boxes, and the night after your date and how stern he was about you not entering.

Slowly you push open the door of his room, completely forgetting Hobi’s words and deciding that it was either now or never. You knew you were a pushing boundary that you shouldn’t be, but a part of you also felt like it had to be done. Maybe if you found out what was bothering Jungkook so much, you could help him.

Honestly, you weren't too sure on what you expected when you first entered. Considering how secretive Jungkook was about it, you sorta assumed the room would be all black and have a whole bunch of weird things hanging across the walls, but surprisingly his room looked completely normal. The bed covers were a navy blue color that matched with some of the artwork he had hung across the beige colored apartment walls. The drawers were plain and boring while his desk looked like any other ordinary desk: stacked with random sketches, pens, One piece manga, and printed webtoons. If this is all he was hiding, then it really no made sense because there was literally nothing to hide….

That was until you saw the closed closet door, and once you opened it, you were blown away. For what was behind those closet doors was an entire memorabilia of awards, belts, photos, and trophies which you assumed were all Jungkook’s, newspapers from the states with headlines that spoke of how amazing Jungkook was. Many of them include the words “rising”, “prodigy”, and “the next big thing”. Your eyes try to take everything in all in one go, but it was just so much. There were papers that were written about him even when he was a kid, pictures of his with several belts around his waist amazed you. This was insane.

But it wasn’t until you noticed the newspaper headline of the paper hung right in the center of the practical shrine that the smile from your face fell, as it read, “Prodigy Jeon Jungkook, K.O’d in Round 12 against Brandon Star.” You look at the date, and everything begins to start making sense. The date which read December 1, 2018, only a couple of weeks prior to your first meeting with him at New Years, the churning feeling in your stomach only becoming heavier as you read the newspaper next to it. “Rising Star, Jeon Jungkook, disappears. Where is he now?” it reads, and as you skim through the different articles, the whole memorabilia shrine begins to make sense. Jungkook didn’t have this here for the purpose of maintaining old memories, but for the purpose of constantly reminding himself of what he once was and how he ended up failing, torturing himself to say the least. It’d explain his pent up anger when you first met him, the scar was still fresh.

Grabbing one of the trophies from the memorabilia desk, you observe the glass material and admire its fine detail, Jungkook’s name written in cursive underneath the title. Slowly your fingers graze over it, whispering his name to yourself, “Jeon Ju—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice harshly interrupts, scaring you and causing you to jump. The slippery trophy in your hands falling to floors, several pieces of glass now shattered onto the floor. Turning to face the owner of the voice, your heart stops when you find Jungkook staring at the floor, an expressionless look on his face.

“I—” your brain completely freezes, only staring at his balled up fist which was becoming more red with every passing second.

“I told you—” he closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room,” he finally snaps, his enraged voice echoing across the walls of the room, “So then why, why the fuck are you in here right now!” he moves towards you, his face now becoming red in anger. Not caring whether he was stepping on glass or not.

“I know but—”

He cuts you off, “But fucking what? There’s no reason you should even be in here right now y/n! None!” he screams, his rage only furthering with every word. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you stammer to defend yourself. “How would you feel like if I barged into your room and destroyed something personal of yours, huh?”

All you can do is stare at him, never seeing him this enraged before, the sight definitely a scary one, “Answer me goddamit!” he yells, his fist still balled up, holding himself back from punching anything. He looks down at the broken glass one more time, his chest now heaving in anger before storming out the room.

Quickly you follow him, chills going down your spine when you see him turn to your room.

“What are you—” you begin, but it’s too late. Everything happens in slow motion, from the fist being thrown to the sound of the canvas you’d been working so long on cracking, several holes and rips appearing soon after. You look at the scene in front of you in silence, shock running through your veins, and the need to vomit stronger than ever before. Jungkook breathes heavily, staring at what he’s just done, not feeling a single ounce of remorse.

The closing feeling in your throat is one that’s too overwhelming, but the anger you were now feeling was even stronger, “What is wrong with you,” you whisper, tears falling down from your eyes, a look of terror overtaking your face, “What is wrong with you!” you scream, lips trembling as your voice breaks at just how loud you were. Jungkook feels his blood run cold, taken back by your sudden outburst.

“I have been nothing but kind to you since the day we’ve met, nothing but!” you yell, hot tears uncontrollably falling from your hysteria.

Jungkook scoffs, yelling right in return, “Do you want some kind of reward for that? Is that it? Is that all this is? Another ego booster for you so you can pat yourself on the back and say you’re a good person!”

“I don’t need anything from anyone! Especially not from someone like you,” you spit, Jungkook’s jaw clenching at your response.

“Ah I knew that nice ol princess act was nothing more than mere bullshit,” he bitterly laughs, “finally had enough of your whole little treat everyone with kindness moral?” he mocks you.

“It’s not a fucking act, I’m just not a miserable person like you!” you grit your teeth, the temptation to throw something at him at an all time high.

“No you just live in this big old fantasy bubble that’s got you believing that kindness solves all the world's problems!”

“Yeah well it’s better than thinking that being a fucking prick to the rest of the world gets you anywhere, I mean look at where you’re at now!” you yell, knowing you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t care at all anymore. The ice was shattered the moment he destroyed your painting, “I understand that I made a mistake going into your room, but you don’t have to take the rest of your miserable life out on me! You think everyone around you wants to be some kind of punching bag all the time for you?” the veins in your neck begin to pop out, and you almost feel as if your chest was going to physically explode at any moment, “How dare you come in here and treat everyone around you like complete shit all because you’re living a sad tragic life!”

“That’s not true,” he snarls, a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t it?” you scoff, “You’ve done it since the first day you got here, and so let me do the favor of telling you the truth and giving you a goddamn reality check! We’re all sick and tired of it! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you get to make everyone around you as well! And let me tell you, I’ll be damned if I let someone like you make me just as rotten as yourself,” and for a small second you see the hurt across Jungkook’s face, and you think maybe you’ve gone too far.

Maybe this could’ve all been prevented had you never entered his room. But then you think to yourself that no, this was bound to happen. This was always going to happen whether you liked it or not. The questions had always just been: when was it going to happen and what was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? By now both of your chests are heaving, and there’s a silence that fills the room. Time acts as nothing more than an illusion.

“Is that what you really think?” he says, a cold hardened expression on his face again, “That I make you miserable?” You look at the destroyed painting on the floor, a symbol that despite building and making something so beautiful, all it took was one slip of the finger for it all to go down the drain. Without saying anything, you slowly nod to him, the emptiness in your heart acting as a driving force.

“What the—” Hobi walks in the room, dazed and confused, “What the fuck is going on in here?” He asks, but the two of you remain silent, continuing to stare at one another.

That is until Jungkook breaks away from the stare, muttering a small “nothing,” under his breath, walking out of the room and going back to his own, the door loudly slamming shut.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance, a tiresome expression on your face.

“Hobi,” you shake your head, “Just leave me alone!,” you snap at him, but it comes out more as a plea than a demand, voice completely weary. Hobi stares at you for a moment before doing so, gently closing the door when making his way out. Once you hear the sound of the door close, you squat down to the floor, fingers grazing the painting you’d work so hard on, a muffled sob finally escaping from your lips.

a/n: whew! originally this was supposed to be nothing more than a small drabble, but as i kept writing it just ended becoming this monstrous of a fic that i had to split into two lmao. hopefully i didn’t make the switches between present day and the past too confusing for y’all. part two will probably be up by next friday, once my finals week is over :)) any messages, anons, comments, reblogs, and like are appreciated! see y’all next time! 💞

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aitaikimochi · 4 years

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The BNHA Season 4 BluRay/DVD Vol. 1-6 Box Set comes with a special bonus light novel called the "Cultural Festival Wrap-Up Party" about Class A's after-party they had the day after the Cultural Festival, written by Anri-sensei. Here's the summary! Enjoy~

Boku No Hero Academia Cultural Festival Wrap Up Party

The story starts off with All Might greeting Aizawa as he enters the faculty office, a day after the Cultural Festival. He says good work to Aizawa and asks how the clean-up went for the Cultural Festival. Aizawa says that everything has been put away properly and recalls how it was a bit of a risky Cultural Festival this year with the whole fiasco that almost caused them to stop the festival, referring to the incident with Gentle and La Brava.

Aizawa mentions that the students are now preparing for an after-party. He says, “too bad they can’t put this amount of effort that they did in the Cultural Festival towards their studies instead,” and All Might laughs and says, “Well, they’re still just kids after all.” He also tells All Might that a little while ago, Sero stopped by the office to ask him something. Aizawa says, “What?” and All Might explains, “Well…you see…”

Next scene is at a nearby discount variety store (**note: basically a Don Quihote department store in Japan that sells a variety of things including food at really cheap prices). The Class A band team, consisting of Jirou, Kaminari, Bakugou, Yaoyorozu, and Tokoyami, are buying snacks and drinks for the after-party. However, Jirou seems to be the only one who’s actually taking this seriously as she can’t find where everyone else ran off to. She bumps into Yaoyorozu, who excitedly says, “Jirou-san, look at these super cheap drinks! They’re only 10yen each! If we buy 20 of them that’s only 200yen!”

Jirou looks at the bottles and notices that they’re only on sale because the drinks had already expired. She tells Yaoyorozu to put away the items. She then continues to search for the other band members and finds Kaminari. He tells her that he wants to add these cool snacks into their pile of food, which come with bonus cards or toys. He says, “Look at these! Doesn’t it take you back? Man, when I was a kid I used to collect these all the time!”

Jirou looks at the items and says “put it back,” and Kaminari whines but does so anyway. Yaoyorozu keeps getting distracted by all the things in the store since she’s very rich, she seldom has the opportunity to visit these discount stores that people go to. Jirou finds Tokoyami, and Dark Shadow dumps a whole bunch of sweets into their shopping cart. Jirou says that they don’t need that many sweets and to put things back. Tokoyami then gives Jirou a snack with packaging that says “The Witch of Darkness’ Apple Pie.” Dark Shadow says, “Fumikage used to love these sweets when he was younger!” and Tokoyami gets flustered. Jirou then pats Dark Shadow on his head, and Bakugou comes up behind her.

He says, “What the hell are you guys even buying!?”

Kaminari cries out, “Whattya mean!?”

Bakugou says, “If we’re gonna eat this at the after-party, then we need several big bags of food! And why the hell am I even here shopping with you guys right now!? This is so annoying!”

As he says that, he fills the shopping cart with bags of potato chips, sweets, paper plates, and trash bags. Jirou sighs in relief and says, “Yeah! I was thinking of getting paper plates too so clean-up would be easier!” They then agree to buy some more bottles of juice and soda, and Bakugou says they only need a maximum 5 bottles to which Jirou agrees.

Bakugou then says, “Well then let’s just get the hell out of here!” and Kaminari regrettably puts all of the sweets that he added to the shopping cart back on the shelves. Jirou looks at Bakugou and says, “Bakugou, you’re…kinda like a very capable Mom.”

Bakugou gets mad and says, “WHAT!? Stop saying such stupid crap!”

While the Band members are buying stuff at the discount store, the Dance Team members and Stage members are back in the Class A dormitory preparing food and decorating the common room. The Dance Team is in charge of the food and the Stage team is in charge of decorations.

Satou is the one who is cooking most of the food, but the other Dance Team members are helping him with the food preparation. Iida is in charge of chopping the vegetables, and although he is known for his speed, he’s not used to handling knives, so he chops them at a slower pace. Hagakure is in charge of prepping the oil and oil absorbent sheets to fry the chicken and place it on the sheets. Ochako and Ashido are in charge of stirring the pot, which contains beschamel and bolognese sauces.

Ojiro checks up on the oven to make sure that it’s the right temperature. Satou tells Ochako and Ashido to add the sauce for the lasagna and to not forget to put olive oil on top. Shouji says that he’s done making the dressing for the salad, and Satou samples it. The kitchen is full of lively sounds, and everyone is excited for Ojiro’s delicious cooking.

Ochako, Ashido, and Hagakure then discuss how Christmas is around the corner too, so they should do this again and throw a Christmas party next time. While they think about having a potential Christmas party, Iida says, “Hey now! Christmas is a day that celebrates the Birth of Jesus Christ! You should be spending it with your families, so this Christmas we…”

Satou then says, “Iida, the knife, watch out the knife!” since Iida was talking while swinging the knife around in his hand. Iida apologizes. Ashido then says, “But wouldn’t a party be fun?” and Mineta appears in the kitchen holding some peaches while muttering, “Christmas…Christmas costumes…Santa Girl skirts…That’s awesome…”

However, they eventually convince Iida that Christmas is indeed a time to celebrate things together, and Iida gives in and says he will ask Aizawa for permission to throw a Christmas party much to everyone’s delight.

Mineta had been slacking off on his duties by looking at the peaches and stroking them gently, imagining something lewd, and Hagakure calls him out on his perverted thoughts and tells him to help out along with the others.

He is in charge of cutting the carrots, and while everyone is helping prepare the food, Ochako stares at the fried chicken that just came out of the fryer. She can’t help herself and pops one into her mouth only to find that it’s burning hot. Tsuyu says to be careful since they’re still hot, and Ochako apologizes as the fried chicken looked and smelled so delicious she moved without thinking.

Satou asks her how’s the flavor, and she says the fried chicken is really good while giving him a thumbs up.

Ojiro and Hagakure are washing the dishes, and Hagakure holds the plates, making them look like they’re floating in mid air. Ojiro then tells Hagakure that she should probably put some clothes on if she’s going to be in the kitchen where people use fire and knives, but she said she just wanted to see what people’s reactions were to her small pranks. Shouji then passes her an apron, and Mineta muses that it’s one of those tropes where girls wear aprons while naked, but Iida warns him to not go further.

Meanwhile, in the common room area, the Stage Team is preparing the decorations to be strung about the living room. Deku, Todoroki, and Koda are folding origami together to put on the walls as banners. Deku folds a cool All Might shaped origami, and Todoroki praises him, saying “Wow, All Might! That’s awesome!” Deku actually used to practice folding the All Might origami countless of times to perfect its shape, and he blushes a bit when he hears praise from someone.

He then sees that Todoroki folded a crane, and Todoroki says that his sister taught him how to fold the crane origami when he was a child.

Koda then says, “Oh um…I…made a camera origami!” and shows them a whimsical camera shaped origami that makes a shutter noise when pressed. Deku then notices that Koda actually had folded a ton of different origami flowers and animals, and Koda gets a bit embarrassed at the attention.

Koda says, “But the All Might origami is amazing…” and Todoroki agrees.

Todoroki then asks Deku to teach him how to fold the All Might origami. Deku is happy to oblige, and he says, “Okay first you fold a triangle and then…”

As he starts teaching Todoroki, Kirishima comes into the room and puts up his own dorm room’s fisherman banner on the wall of the common room. He says that this will make the place a bit flashier, and the others agree. Aoyama then comes in and also says that they need something sparkly and bright. Aoyama tells them that he’ll come back with something sparkly.

Kirishima then says, “Oh wait I’ll come help too!”

Todoroki then turns to Deku and says, “Midoriya, so how exactly do you fold the All Might origami?”

Deku realized that he was in the middle of teaching Todoroki before they got interrupted by the others, so he resumes his lesson by saying to first fold a triangle. Afterwards, he goes off on a tangent about how to perfect the folding process as well as making sure to accentuate the silhouette of All Might through the folds, and as he mumbles a bit, he accidentally folds the origami too quickly.

Todoroki is patient with him though and says again, “Um…can you please start from the beginning and teach me the steps a bit slower this time?”

Deku apologizes for folding the paper too fast and teaches Todoroki again, this time at a slower pace.

Kirishima then walks by and says, “Woah Todoroki, you also want to learn how to fold the All Might origami?” He leaves them to their folding and joins Aoyama and Koda in putting the finished origami and other decorations up on the walls.

After Todoroki successfully folds the All Might origami, Deku says, “You made your first All Might origami!” and Todoroki responds quietly, “I think this should be able to fit in the letter…”

Deku says, “Hmm?” and Todoroki says, “Ah, it’s nothing.”

Aoyama them brings a disco ball into the common room, and he, Kirishima, and Sero put up the other decorations.

Finally, the preparations are complete, and the Class A students gather in the common room surrounding a bunch of food that’s placed on the tables. Iida then makes a toast to a successful Cultural Festival, and everyone raises their glasses and says, “Cheers!”

Satou mentions that he also has prepared dessert, and they have two choices of either a chestnut and fig montblanc cake or an apple and peach jelly. Tsuyu chooses the jelly as jelly is apparently her favorite food. Tokoyami also chooses the jelly dessert while Ashido takes the montblanc.

Iida mentions that he and Mineta were in charge of chopping the cabbages and carrots for the cole slaw. Todoroki and Deku praise him and say that the coleslaw is delicious.

Bakugou watches irritably and decides to leave the party, but Kaminari says, “Hey hey hey, where do you think you’re going, Kacchan-kun!?” Bakugou says that seeing everyone making small talk is pissing him off, but Kaminari rebutts by saying, “But you looked excited when you were buying food!”

Kirishima then comes over and says, “Bakugou! I brought you some fried chicken! Let’s eat a ton!” and puts a bunch of fried chicken in front of Bakugou, to which he says he doesn’t want it. Kirishima doesn’t back down though and says, “Oh I got it! So you want lasagna instead!” and brings a slice of lasagna for him.

Satou noticed Kirishima carrying the food over and says, “Hey, you should put a bunch of tabasco on it before eating too!” and pours a bunch of tabasco onto the lasagna and force feeds Bakugou with it. Bakugou yells, “What the hell are you doing!?” but eventually pipes down after taking the lasagna from Kirishima as it seems like he does enjoy the food after all. Kirishima watches him and says, “See, I told you it’s good! I’ll bring you seconds!” and goes to bring Bakugou more food.

Sero then turns everyone’s attention towards the TV in the common room. He says, “Well then now that Bakugou’s calmed down, let’s watch the recap of our Cultural Festival performance!” He turns on the TV and everyone gathers around to watch the recorded performance.

Some of the members mention that Deku was late to the performance, and they thought that he might not even be able to perform. Deku apologizes for being late, but as the performance starts, they can hear the audience’s chatter as someone yells “YAOYOROZU!!!” Ashido and Kaminari tease her about having fans, and she gets flustered. Satou then whispers, “It’s starting…it’s starting…!” and the screen fills with the sound of Bakugou’s drums as well as a huge explosion.

The girls all fawn over how cool Jirou looks while singing, and this causes her to blush and say, “Please stop…” Koda also adds, “You were really cool, Jirou-san,” which makes her blush deepen.

Ashido exclaims, “Look look, the dance is all in line too!” and the class watches as Ojiro uses his tail to swing around. Everyone on the dance team mentions how it was thanks to Ashido being their teacher that they were able to have fun while dancing and making this possible. Next is Deku and Aoyama’s synchronized dance, and Shouji murmurs to Tsuyu, “Wow, they are so in sync!” to which she replies, “Midoriya-chan and Aoyama-chan practiced real hard, right?”

The students continue to watch as Aoyama becomes a disco ball and the stage team starts their part of the performance with Kirishima shaving the ice that Todoroki created while Sero uses his tape, and Kirishima says, “You guys’ timing was perfect, Seroroki!”

Sero mentions that they should try this move out while doing actual hero work next time, and Todoroki agrees. As Kaminari watches himself play the guitar, he says, “Woah there…I feel like I’m gonna be super popular after this with those slick guitar moves…!” and Mineta says, “But wait did you guys see my harem dance? That was the best…!”

Jirou says, “Tokoyami, you’ve gotten super good at guitar!” and Tokoyami mentions that it’s all thanks to her.

Kirishima and Bakugou are watching the performance from a spot a little away from the rest of the class, and Kirishima smiles at Bakugou, saying, “Man, you’re great at drumming after all!” and Bakugou replies casually, “it’s just average.”

Jirou overhears their conversation and says, “No way! Your drumming was phenomenal! Your rhythm is what allowed us all to stay in sync! Thank you for taking on this role!” and Bakugou scoffs and says, “Well, you’re the one who carried the whole performance though!”

Everyone is really impressed by Jirou’s bass skills as well as her singing, and they vote for her as the Class A Cultural Festival MVP. Everyone, aside from Bakugou, smiles at her, and she blushes, saying, “What…why…”

Yaoyorozu remarks, “Jirou-san, you were shining the brightest!” and Aoyama says, “Even more than me!?☆” But he agrees that Jirou indeed deserves the MVP title.

The class asks Jirou to make a small speech. She thanks everyone for making this performance a reality, and she’s really happy that they were able to perform together.

After everyone is done eating, Sero and Kaminari tells the class that they have some cool party games planned for everyone. Most of the class are excited for what they have in store, but Bakugou feels like it’s a waste of time and gets up to leave. Kirishima tries to stop him, but Sero taunts, “Oh, you’re leaving because you don’t think you can win, right? Well that’s fine, you can go back. Even though we have a quiz specifically tailored for you, but I guess you’d fail anyway.”

This gets Bakugou angry, and he agrees to participate in Sero’s dumb quiz challenge.

The games that Sero and Kaminari have planned are for one member of each Cultural Festival team to undergo a “Can you guess the __” type of challenge. Bakugou is first up, representing the Band Team. His challenge is to differentiate between three different types of pepper spice seasoning purely by taste (called 一味 ichimi).

Bakugou sits down in front of the table that has the seasonings, and Sero blindfolds him by putting on an eye mask that has a funny grinning face on it. Deku and the others snicker at how ridiculous Bakugou looks with that eye mask on, and Bakugou gets mad, yelling, “Damnit Deku, what the hell is so funny!?” Deku replies, “Well, anyone would laugh when they see…hahah!”

Bakugou roars, “You piece of shit!” but Todoroki says calmly, “Hey Bakugou, maybe you should consider wearing a hero suit that matches that mask.” Bakugou is furious and yells, “Shut the hell up, you half and half bastard!”

The challenge then begins, and Kaminari spoon feeds Bakugou the three different spices. He surprises everyone by correctly guessing each type of spice and goes even as far to explain which company manufactures them. Kaminari and Sero are speechless, but Deku says, “I thought that Kacchan would know the difference. He’s always had a very particular sense of taste. He could even tell when sweets expired and would never eat the expired food.”

Bakugou gets mad and says, “Don’t put on that stupid face as if you know it all!” and throws the eye mask at Deku.

The next challenge is Todoroki’s turn, representing the Stage Team. His task is to figure out among three cups of brown liquid which one is soba noodle soup. The cups contain either coffee, soba noodle soup, or throat medicine, and Todoroki cannot smell or taste them before picking his answer.

Iida mentions that Todoroki often eats soba during lunch, so there’s no way he would guess incorrectly for a food that he loves. Deku says, “Good luck, Todoroki!” as everyone watches him study the cups closely. The catch is that he also has to drink from whichever cup he chooses. Todoroki decides on a cup and drinks from it, only to spit it out and say, “That…wasn’t soba noodle soup…”

Kaminari chimes in by explaining that the cup he chose was actually throat medicine. Todoroki apologizes for spitting out the throat medicine, which splurted all over Iida and Deku. They tell him not to worry as more importantly, they need to get tissues to clean up the mess. Todoroki mutters, “I don’t think I want to eat soba anymore after this…”

The next challenge is for Tsuyu, where she has to differentiate from three different types of fluffy things: Koda’s bunny, Ojiro’s tail, and Deku’s hair by touch only. As she puts on the eye mask, Koda, Ojirou, and Deku stand in front of her. When Koda offers the bunny, Tsuyu says, “it’s fluffy.” When Ojiro offers his tail, she also says, “it’s fluffy.” When Deku offers his hair, Tsuyu says, “it’s…fuzzy?” She then correctly guesses which fluffiness was which.

Kaminari and Sero then round up the results of the various challenges, and the winner ends up being Bakugou!

Bakugou says, “Obviously I would win!” but the party’s not over yet! Next up is the Personality Quiz! Sero explains that since the class is with each other practically 24/7, they should all have picked up on small details of each other. This quiz will test how well they actually know each other after all.

The first question they ask is, “What did Iida answer on his Hero Test the other day to name the three most beautiful Heroes of the past?”

The class guesses incorrectly, and the answer was that he wrote on his test “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone has their own different types of beauty.”

Baffled, Iida asks Sero and Kaminari how they even knew what he wrote on a test paper, and they explained that their accomplice, Hagakure, has been doing a bit of spying on everyone in order for them to make this quiz a reality. Hagakure apologizes for doing so, but she says that she saw it as an opportunity to also test out her hero skills too.

The next question is “What has Yaoyorozu been obsessed about lately?” Jirou answers first, saying “Oh, is it furikake (rice seasoning)?” The answer turns out to be correct, and recently, Yaoyorozu has taken a strong liking to furikake to season her rice, which makes her blush a bit.

Sero then says, “All right Kaminari, what’s the next question?”

Kaminari answers, “Okay! For the next question, what made Ojirou disappointed recently!?”

Satou guesses, “Cementoss said his effort was average?”

Shouji says, “Tetsutetsu told him his strength was average?”

Aoyama ponders, “Recovery Girl said his health was average?☆”

The correct answer is actually Ojiro changed the conditioner for his tail recently, but no one noticed. However, Hagakure sidles up to him and says, “I actually saw you looking around near the bathroom area to see if anyone noticed, haha!” and Ojiro gets red, saying, “Well if you were watching me, why didn’t you say anything…!?”

The next question was, “What was hidden in Kirishima’s elementary school yearbook!?” Kirishima panics and says, “Huh!? How did you…!” but Sero grins and says, “That’s only for me to know. But I totally could not believe what was hidden there!”

Ashido guesses, “Maybe a love letter!?”

Mineta exclaims, “A porn magazine!!”

Todoroki says, “Failed test scores?”

All three of them were incorrect. The correct answer is “a photo of him dressed up as a girl!”

Bakugou says to him, “You’re actually into that kinda stuff?”

Kirishima gets flustered and says, “Wait, you’ve got it all wrong! It was during my elementary school’s festival stage play of Cinderella where I played the Stepmother! When I left the picture at home, my mommy kept showing it to other people, so I tried to hide it!!”

Kaminari then continues with the next question, saying “Okay, so next question. Before the Cultural Festival performance, what did Uraraka mess up on!?”

Deku says, “She accidentally made herself float!?”

Iida offers, “She was too nervous she threw up!?”

Tokoyami asks, “She ate too much mochi and threw up!?”

Kaminari says they all guessed wrong and the correct answer is “she was looking for Midoriya but tripped and accidentally went into a room where Class B’s Monoma was in the middle of changing clothes!”

Ochako gets red in the face and says, “I didn’t do it on purpose!!”

Mineta comments something lewd, but Tsuyu shuts him down.

The next question is “What was the reason why Jirou and Hagakure were arguing!?”

Koda says, “Because Hagakure-san was messing with Jirou-san’s earphone jack…?”

Yaoyorozu offers, “Jirou-san accidentally stepped on Hagakure-san’s naked body?”

Mineta exclaims, “Fighting over a guy!”

The correct answer is because Hagakure tried scaring Jirou after they watched a horror film together. Ashido asked whether they actually argued, and Jirou said she got mad because when she takes a shower alone, she’s usually scared of the bathroom area anyway. So when Hagakure messed with her by causing the lights to flicker on and off and the faucet to suddenly turn on by itself, she absoutely freaked out and felt like she almost had a heart attack. Naturally, she was livid, and Hagakure says, “Sorry Jirou, your reactions were just too good!”

The next question is about Deku, and Kaminari asks, “Recently, Deku has been leaving the dorm early to meet with someone. Who is that secret someone!?” (**Note: The word they use is ‘aibiki,” which means secret date/meeting).

Deku is surprised and says, “Wait, how do you know that…?”

Mineta and Satou ask if he was secretly meeting up with a girl, and Iida says, “Midoriya-kun! Are you actually in a relationship with a girl!? You should prioritize studies first!”

Ochako is confused as she says to herself, “Aibiki? Like the type of meat?” (**Note: Ochako isn’t familiar with the word, so she thinks it’s referring to ‘aibikiniku,’ which is a combination of different types of ground meat)

Deku gets nervous and says, “No, it’s not like that…” He thinks of ways to deflect the situation without making it known that he’s actually meeting up with All Might in the morning to train his quirk, but the other classmates continue to guess.

Kirishima says, “He’s meeting with someone from the General Class!?”

Ashido says, “No way…maybe he’s meeting with someone older, like Midnight…!?”

Mineta suggests, “Maybe he’s meeting with a living thing other than a girl…!!”

All three of their guesses were incorrect, and the correct answer was that he was meeting with the Support Department’s Hatsume Mei!

Deku is relieved to know that the others have not found out about his secret rendezvous with All Might early in the morning to do training.

Bakugou snorts and says, “There’s no way that dumb nerd would ever be popular!” but Sero says, “No, Midoriya is quite popular among the ladies. Like during the Provisional License Exam when that naked upper classman got all over him.”

Deku rebutts by saying, “But that was because she was attacking me!?”

Iida then recalls how Hatsume helped Deku out when they went to the department together earlier, and after an explosion, she was also all over him. Mineta then gets lewd thoughts again, but the conversation switches to Mineta using his mogimogi hair balls and puts it on Deku’s head. Iida notes that it looks like Deku’s wearing those infamous mouse ears from “Zoo Dreamland” (aka Disneyland). Ashido mentions that she used to go to Disneyla—…Zoo Dreamland all the time when she was younger. The class chatter switches to discussing their favorite rides, attractions, and food.

The class then asks Mineta to put mogimogi balls on their heads too so they can look like they’re wearing those infamous mouse ears as well. Mineta enjoys the attention and says, “All right I guess…”

Before the party wraps up, Sero mentions that there’s one more video that they want to show to everyone. As they gather around the TV to watch, they see Aizawa on screen with a cat. As the video starts, Aizawa suddenly appears in the common room and reprimands them, asking what are they doing up so late? The video pauses on the screen.

Aizawa stops the party and tells everyone to clean up and go to their rooms. Since the party’s over, he tells Sero, Kaminari, and Hagakure to stay behind. The three students prepare themselves for a scolding, but instead, Aizawa asks them where they got this footage.

It turns out that Present Mic gave it to them after he recorded it while hiding in sight. The footage was of Aizawa trying to befriend a cat, but the cat ignores him and goes to All Might instead. Sero actually came to the faculty department before the after-party to ask for permission to show the footage, and since Aizawa wasn’t there at the time, All Might said it was okay.

However, Aizawa says he will be collecting the footage and tells the three to never discuss the contents of the video to anyone. They agree, and he sends them off on their way.

It’s been a long day, and Aizawa sighs and wonders just when he got caught up in all of this student stuff. However, although adolescence is short, that never stops them from chasing their dreams forever. Happily, while young, without sadness, sweetly, harshly…youth is a precious thing.

The light novel ends with Aizawa saying, “Good luck, everyone” with the words “the festival had ended, but even so, their bright days continue onward.”

THE END

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aliensunflower-fics · 4 years

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The Liar Trap: A Lila Salt Prompt

You expect me to believe that after Lila gets Marinette expelled that Marinette would just leave that alone? Marinette the girl who made a tamper proof DIARY box?? Yeah I don't think so years of Chloe messing with her and her things, Lila proving to be the same kind of bully, and then of course the added paranoia of hiding Tikki and a secret identity everyday should mean that Marinette is some kind of bully prepper from hell. So I present to you my idea:

Lila’s first attacks were when Marinette was unprepared Chloe had been getting soft lately choosing words over playing dirty the change had been brought on partially by Adrien and partially because Chloe and Sabrina were tired of falling prey to Marinette’s traps. And with the threat of Chloe diminished Alya and others had been able to convince Marinette to disarm her many safety precautions. But then sure enough along came Lila to exploit those weaknesses and exploit them she had! Marinette had been EXPELLED and even if the issue was eventually cleared up Marinette was back on the warpath!

By next monday her old traps were back up and new ones were being drafted. Everything from her bag to her sketchbook to her special art room locker had been fortified and prepared. Marinette had no doubt Lila would lay low for a while but eventually she would coil herself to strike again and when she did she would be caught in Marinette’s traps. Until then all she had to do was prepare and take lessons on composure and remaining calm reacting harshly to Lila’s lies would serve only to bury her; she needed a cool head to deal with the liar. And luckily Kagami was an amazing teacher and a devious friend with many suggestions of her own on how to handle Lila effectively now all Marinette had to do was wait.

It took Lila 2 weeks to make her next move the plan was simple enough, the liar had snagged Alya’s phone and planned to wait until Alya was frantic before ‘helpfully’ pointing out she'd seen it in Marinette’s school bag hopefully the whole thing would build tension between the pair and distrust for Lila to feed on. Only that never happened, stage 1 acquiring the phone was easy but it was during stage 2 slipping it in Marinette’s bag during class that she hit failure as her thin thieving hands were suddenly met with a SNAP upon entering Marinette’s bag. The trap was simple, a design loosely based on your everyday mouse trap only softened so it didn’t hurt QUITE as much after all Marinette didn't need Lila actually getting hurt. But still it hurt enough and was shocking enough that the little liar screamed disrupting class.

Now it was time for Kagami’s lessons to come into play. As Lila revealed her hand and wailed about Marinette’s bag attacking her, the baker keeps a calm head amid the confusion and accusations and “what the heck Marinette!” She explains that after being framed for cheating on the last test and her PAST experiences (At that everyone glances at Chloe) she decided to make her bag tamper proof. Lila is quick to accuse Marinette of bias against her as she tries to save face but Marinette just hides a smirk as Alya and everyone are quick to assure Lila that it isn't her but someone else (Chloe) that Marinette is accusing with the class firmly on her side Marinette frees Lila’s hand and tells the italian that next time she needs to borrow a pencil she should simply ask first. Furious Lila reveals her last card, Alya’s phone! And how it was in Marinette’s bag! Instead of an uproar or Marinette scrambling to defend herself Alya hugs Marinette and thanks her, apparently the blogger losing her phone is a common occurrence and its standard protocol for someone in class to pick it up and give it to her later. Score One: Marinette.

In the following weeks similar incidents occur. Lila manages to break into Marinette’s locker thinking the flimsy looking lock was the only thing holding her back only to find herself covered head to toe in cheap sticky glitter paint! Lila throws a fit and Marinette feigns concern that the art supplies she brought were so precariously placed she apologizes and kindly offers to make Lila a new outfit and then makes a point to ask in an innocent and confused tone that EVERYONE can hear just what Lila was doing in her locker in the first place? Lila gets her paws on Marinette’s sketchbook dreaming of stealing the girls designs and framing her? Tough luck she opens the sketchbook to an artfully crafted pop-up mocking her failure and every other page is empty! She goes after Marinette’s precious designs in the school art room? This time it's latex paint that falls on her. Dump coffee on Marinette? Somehow everything important is in waterproof cases and now the cutest guy in school (yes even cuter than Agreste) is offering Marinette his sweater so she can finish up the school day without an emergency home visit and hey is she free for the school dance? Steal her purse? Strangely enough, she gets seemingly cursed with bad luck and ends up caught red handed by Alix and Max and getting a REAL sprained wrist!

And during every single incident Marinette is calm and forgiving and understanding and apologetic. She has answers for every accusation and is quick to turn whatever she can around after all why IS Lila looking in her locker? Why is she in the art room alone going through Marinette’s stuff!? Why does she clearly have one of Marinette’s sketchbooks in her bag? That’s the third thing she spilt on Marinette this month! The final piece is Marinette’s purse and the plague of bad luck it brings Lila the moment she snatches it suddenly everyone is a LOT more suspicious, because before? Well it could just be coincidence or bad luck or any of the other many excuses Lila had come up with but this time was different and Alix and Max were witnesses. Now everyone is keen to keep an eye on Lila, and with them paying closer attention they start to notice how easily and how often Lila is to blame Marinette for things, or how she casually and ‘helpfully’ (accuses) points out that Marinette of being a bad friend, or a ‘bully’.

Now how does Lila get exposed? There are options, maybe she gets caught red handed by the now observant classmates and this time she cant lie out of it. Maybe after all her failures to destroy her at school Lila tries to lie her way into the bakery only to learn the traps in Marinette’s room are worse. Maybe she gets careless in her frustration. Maybe Tikki’s residual bad luck from when Lila snagged the purse follows Lila ruining her. Or maybe now that everyone has a closer eye on Lila they realize how she targets Marinette how her friendly advice is needlessly harsh how her honey laced words don't sound QUITE right so eventually they all treat Lila like a friendly acquaintance but never trust her words eventually Lila snaps in frustration or maybe she just moves on. But no matter what happens the class apologize to Marinette and they work to be better friends the kind of friend Kagami turned out to be during the entire Lila ordeal, loyal trusting relying on honest communication to work through hardships.

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#my fic #ml salt prompt #ml salt #lila salt #lila salt prompt

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marvelettesassemble · 3 years

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Let’s Pretend (Charlie x Reader)

Summary: Charlie asked you to come with him when he visits his family to pretend to be his girlfriend so his mom would stop setting him up.

Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: I know nothing about Romania and I really tried my best. I tried to find a traditional Romanian dish but they were all with meat and I don’t eat meat for three years now so I couldn’t write that. If I googled it correctly draga mea means my love.

In all those years that you had known Charlie you had never seen him beg. So seeing him standing in front of you, holding your hands in his blistered ones and to hear him beg, you weren’t sure if you could refuse him.

„Why do you even need to bring a date? Why don’t you tell them that you are single and happy?“ You asked.

He sighed and let go of your hands. „Because my mum doesn’t believe me. And then she tells me all about the women she knew were still single. I guess she thinks that I'll move back if I just find the right woman. One time I was supposed to meet up with my mom but she wasn’t the one turning up. It was a blind date and an awkward one none the less.“

You had to admit that this didn’t sound like fun. „And you think that she would believe you when you tell her one month before your visit that you found yourself a girl?“ You took a glass from behind and started filling it with Zaguna.

„Of course not!“ Charlie scoffed. “But I already told her about a girl I met here and she wanted me to bring her along. And that is why I’m asking you to pretend to be my girlfriend. I swear my family is not as bad as I have pictured them. To be honest I think you’ll get along just fine with at least two of my brothers, if not more. You get food and shelter and I swear we only have to act a minimum.” You pushed the full glass in front of him.

“And why me? I know about your co-worker at the reservoir. Why not her? I bet your mother would like that more than someone working at the bar?”

“No, I think you would just work fine with my family. Think about it, please.” You nodded and then he left for the table where the other dragon keepers were enjoying their after-work beer. You saw him sneaking glances at you and before he left, you told him you’d go along with it. He hugged you and you heard some hollering behind him.

“You owe me, Weasley.” You had to laugh when you saw his relieved expression.

Time flew by and before you knew it you were standing at the ministry of magic in London and were questioned about your stay in England. You told them you were there for a vacation and after the inspection of your wand you were free to go. Charlies father Arthur would pick you up as he was working at the ministry. He run a little late, but that was okay with you. It just meant more time to inspect everything.

You recognized Charlies father immediately. He hugged his son and shook your hand and told you that Charlies mother was so excited and that you were already late and should hurry up. You changed a glance with Charlie and followed his father. He walked over to one of the chimneys and you went by floo powder to Charlies childhood home. He had told you stories of him growing up in this house with his many siblings.

The perks of working at a pub was that you get to know your customers. As it wasn’t a big pub and Charlie and his co-workers came in often you talked a lot with them. There wasn’t much to do out there so you saw them at least once a week to spend their wage. The pub wasn’t in the best shape, but the cosy atmosphere as candles stood everywhere (a nightmare when you had to change them) and the many lights filled it with warmth. The mismatched chairs and the old sofas added to that, but what brought the customers back was the cheap beer and your food.

“Oh Charlie, it's been so long,” you heard as soon the flames and the soot disappeared. “And you actually brought a girl over. To be honest I thought you would tell me a flimsy excuse.” The woman who talked let go of Charlie and turned towards you. “Come on in, dear. You have to tell me everything about you.” She tugged your hand and led you to another room. “I hope you’re hungry, I prepared dinner.”

Before you could blink you sat a table in the warm kitchen and food was shoved onto your plate. Charlie put his hand on your arm and squeezed softly and wanted to say something to you until he was interrupted by a tall man who walked into the kitchen. Based on his long hair and the scars on his face you assumed it must be Bill. Charlie stood up immediately and hugged his brother hard, before he turned around and introduced you.

“Oh, I heard so much about you. Did Mom already tell you, that the two of you will stay at our place? We prepared the guest room and I can’t wait to hear what my dear brother is up to.” Bill said with a nice voice when he shook your hand.

“I’m so sorry, but we’re full. It’s not that we don’t want you here, I assure you. But we thought it would be better if the two of you slept at Bills place rather than the younger ones.” She touched your shoulder shortly. “And now sit down, Bill. You need to get some meat on you,” she scolded her oldest son and he shot a wink at you before he sat down next to his brother.

You and Charlie were bombarded with questions and you were grateful when Bill said you should probably leave because you were exhausted from that day and need to rest. You said your goodbye and promised to come back tomorrow and left for the night.

The atmosphere when you entered shell cottage was completely different. Bill was one of the most laid down people you have met and when you met his wife you noticed that she calmed down more the more time she spent with her husband.

You were sitting at the table with drinks in front of you when Bill turned towards you. “I do have a question for you,” he said and you gulped. You hoped you wouldn’t mess up. You and Charlie weren’t constantly touching or anything like that and so far it didn’t raise suspicion from his family. “Charlie told me you make the best sweet bread and he talks about it for years. So, would you maybe make some?”

You let out your breath in relief and laughed a little bit. “Of course. You mean Cozonac. It does take time to make it, but sure. I mean you’re letting me stay here that is the least I can do.”

“Well, you’re Charlies girlfriend. We couldn’t let you sleep under the bridge,” he laughed and when he called you Charlies girlfriend something warm floated through your body. His hand found yours and squeezed it softly. You talked for a little while longer until you decided to call it a night. Bill showed you your bedroom and whished you a good night. You walked into the small room and stared at the bed in the middle of the room.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Charlie scratched his neck. “I assumed we would stay at the burrow and mom is very strict, so I hadn’t really thought we would have to share a bed. But I can take the couch in the living room and tell them I snore too loud and I didn’t want to disturb you. Actually, I do think that’s not a lie, though.”

You let out a little lough. It was cute that Charlie was so nervous that he started rambling. “Charlie, calm down. It is a pretty big bed. I think we’ll manage, unless you don’t want to share.”

“No, no!” he said suddenly with force. “If that’s okay for you, it's okay for me. I’ll go change in the bathroom. I’ll knock before I come back.” He left the room and you stared a second at your bag before you dove in and took out your clothes to sleep in. You changed quickly and waited for your turn in the bathroom.

“Do you mind if I read a little bit? I’m not used to sleeping early with me having most of the evening shifts,” you asked when you came back.

“No, of course not. That’s totally fine.” He was already in bed and ‘thankfully’ wore a shirt and you tried not to stare too long at his muscular arms which were covered in freckles and burns. It wasn’t as if you haven’t seen Charlie shirtless before. One evening his friends pestered him to show them his tattoo and after a while he had given in and pulled of his shirt, but you had been on the other side of the room then and hadn’t gotten a closer look.

You tried to stay as far to the side as you could and started reading until you noticed that Charlie had also a book in his hands.

“What are you reading?” you asked him.

“It’s actually a book about dragons. We have that new Peruvian Vipertooth and we have a lot of trouble with her and I’m trying to find some helpful tips here. She’s actually really dangerous but she’s so beautiful,” Charlie rambled.

“I think you have to take me with you some day,” you said and turned around to look at him.

“Excuse me?” he looked actually confused as if he didn’t understand what you just said.

“You’re always talking about dragons and you tell me these great stories and I think it's finally time that you take me to the reservoir to let me see them so I can finally understand why you are so obsessed with them.”

“I’m sorry if I talk to much about them. I know that it scares people away.” He looked almost a little bit sad.

“No, I don’t think you understand,” you put your hand on his warm arm. “I find it endearing that you love your job so much that you even do some research when you’re on vacation. You don’t have to be sorry for anything! I mean it, I finally want to see the creatures that amaze you so much.”

“Oh, okay. Well then I have to take you with me one day,” he said with a light smile on his face. You patted his arm and told him that you’d try to sleep now and that he should just kick you if you started to snore.

The next few days passed by quickly and you got used to be surrounded by Charlie 24/7 and you weren’t complaining. “Good morning,” you heard George say one morning and his twin followed him into the kitchen of shell cottage. “What are you doing?”

Fred took a cup from the cupboard and filled it while George studied you. “I'm making Cozonac. Bill asked me if I could make some. I'm making loads you can also have some when its ready,” you promised. You put away the bowl and washed your hands when you asked them what they were doing here.

“We thought we take you with us to Diagon Alley. Show you the shop and what London has to offer.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve been dying to see the shop and your products. Seriously I can’t wait to see them! And when we come back, I’m making dinner and we’ll eat the sweet bread for dessert,” you said excitingly.

“Well, who would have guessed that I had to ask my brother Charlie for girl advice, because I think he might have hit the jackpot,” George looked you up and down with a smirk on his lips. You told him to shut it and went to go changing.

When you came back you were carrying two bags full of WWW products. George had showed you around and pointed you to Diagon Alley where you spent a lot of your salary. You stopped by the twins to let them know that the offer for dinner still stands and then you made you way back to shell cottage.

“Are you preparing to feed an army?” Charlie asked when he stepped into the kitchen and took a look at all the pots and pans around you.

“Actually I am. George and Fred are coming over.” Just as you finished your sentence a loud noise was heard and said twins stood in the kitchen.

“This smells good, sweetness,” George didn’t miss a beat to stroll over to you, kiss your cheek and lift the lid to look inside one pot.

“Sweetness?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, you need to watch out, brother. I think you might have competition,” Fred laughed as he sat down at the table. Two seconds later Charlie slung one arm around your waist and pushed George out of the way.

“Bugger off,” he told his younger brother and although you were a bit confused about his quick acting you were comfortable in his arms and pressed yourself against his body. After that he didn’t leave your side and helped you preparing the food. Every time George made a comment about you, he threw something at him. You were glad that it was only peppers and not the knives. Bill really had a laugh when he came home and noticed the tension that was clearly building.

That evening you noticed that Charlie was always touching you: a hand on your thigh, your arms or knees touching when you sat next to each other over dinner, him kissing your cheek to thank you for the dinner. While George and Fred left right after dinner Charlie and Bill decided they’d do the dishes so you had a conversation with Fleur. When she asked you questions how you and Charlie got together you squirmed a bit and made an excuse to get to the kitchen.

The conversation between Charlie and Bill ended as soon as you stepped into the kitchen. You walked over to fill your glass with water and when your eyes fell at the bags you brought with you from Diagon Alley you remembered that you brought a book for him. You pulled it out and put it on the counter as Charlies hands were covered with dish water. “I brought this book for you. They had only two books about the Vipertooth and I recognized you had the other.”

You noticed the glance Bill shoot at Charlie before he turned around to put away the plates while Charlie came to you, put his soaking hands on your cheek and kissed the corner of your mouth. You didn’t mind the wetness there as a warmth spread through your body when he whispered the words: “Thank you, draga mea!” He wouldn’t tell you that he owned this book already, because he was so touched that you remembered the dragon he talked about and you went around searching for something that meant so much to him.

“You’re welcome,” you beamed at him and when he stepped back you giggled as you wiped away the water with the sleeve of your shirt. Bill had left the room without you noticing so you stepped in to finish the dishes with Charlie.

“I’m glad you asked me to come with you,” you said while you put away the cutlery. “I have a really good time and I’m a little bit sad that tomorrow is our last day here.”

“You can come with me the next time I’m visiting,” Charlie said while he dried off his hands and leant against the counter. “I like spending time with you and actually I wanted to ask, if you want to go on a date with me.” You noticed that every time Charlie got nervous he started scratching his neck. “Like a real one without pretending.”

“Oh Charlie, we don’t have to pretend anything. I love spending time with you and I would love to spend even more with you in Romania. And if I remember correctly you had already promised me a date. You wanted to show me your dragons, remember?”

Charlie was speechless. You considered him showing you dragons as a date? He didn’t know what to say, but he felt the need to say something back right now or you might go. And he wasn’t sure if he could let you go. He did the next best thing that came to his mind and with two steps he stood in front of you and pressed his lips against yours. You let out a light giggle and then you pressed your lips against his and slung your arms around his waist.

“So, it’s a date then?” you asked with a smirk on your face when you parted.

“Blimey, one or hundred or as many as you want,” he answered and gave you a peck.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley ff #weasley x reader #charlie weasley fanfiction #amwriting #fake dating #charlie weasley

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

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Taken Care Of (Derek x Reader)

A/N: I love a sick fic. It’s good, low-stakes hurt/comfort style fluff. The title was originally “Is it really love if he’s never seen you shoot snot rockets?” but since there was no actual said rockets, it seemed misleading.

Apparently, also my writing is prophetic because I’m finishing this under feverish duress of some sort of cold (its 81 degrees, I’m wearing a hoodie, and I'm freezing. This is bullshit.)

Word Count: 2437

Rating: G - descriptions of illness (mostly pain, dizziness), crying and self-deprecation

For what will soon become obvious reasons, this is set pre-movie.

“Derek? What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing the school lobby quickly to greet him, your friends trailing behind a little slowly.

“Hey Baby Girl,” he said with a grin. “You've been so busy, I feel like I don't ever see you. I missed you,” he gave you that pout he was frustratingly good at, the one that made you melt like butter no matter what else was going on, as he laced his fingers between yours.

“So you decided to visit me at school?” As glad as you were to see him, part of you wished he hadn’t just shown up. This hadn’t been how you planned for him to be added to this part of your life, and it wasn’t exactly good timing.

“I thought we could get lunch? I didn't know you'd be hangin out with your friends. Don't let me interrupt.”

His words nudged you, and you hastily made introductions.

“Oh, so you're the mysterious Derek. I always knew Y/N had good taste,” Alli hummed, looking over him with a flirtatious hunger.

You felt your stomach clench at the look she gave him. It wasn’t quite jealousy, trusting him far too much for concern to ever cross your mind, but something like fear settled over you. Or maybe it was just the nausea you’d felt all week, you tried to tell yourself. Derek seemed to sense the tension you held in every part of your body, and gave your hand an affirming squeeze.

“I don't know about mysterious,” he chuckled, “Y/N reads me like an open book.”

Jen laughed. “Perfect answer,” she slung an arm over your shoulder with a grin. “I like him. Definitely approve.”

“Ladies,” Alexi said, interrupting on their way past. “As curious as we all are to meet and drool over the boy Y/N’s been keeping to herself, let her have him to herself.”

They hooked their arms through the other two’s elbows who planted their feet and refused to be dragged away. You couldn’t help but laugh at your friends' antics, as tired and slightly embarrassed as you were. Derek was grinning at them, still holding your hand and keeping you tucked against him.

“Wait wait,” Jen protested. “Y/N. You’re taking him to Aida’s right? You have to.”

“I don’t know…” the smirk on Alli’s face continued to roil your stomach. “I’d just take him home.”

“What’s Aida’s?” Derek asked, hiding his face in your hair, surprising you that he was actually embarrassed by your friends’ comments.

“Only the best food ever,” Alexi answered with a smile. “Y/N can tell you all about it on the way. Just do that cute thing and share a milkshake with two straws, or I’ll hunt you. Byyyye.”

Giving up on pulling the others, they decided to push you two out the doors instead. Rather than dealing with more of their nonsense, you let yourselves leave, and stopped just out of range.

“Aida’s is a place around the corner. Cheap. Definitely knows how to cater to the student crowd. Good food, pretty amazing milkshakes. And coffee has unlimited free refills in a two hour window.”

“Sounds great. I wanted to take you to lunch. Do you want to?”

“It’s no big deal,” you shrugged. “I go there all the time. We should do something special, since you came all this way.”

“Y/N. You know I don’t care about that. I’m happy anywhere you decide. Besides,” he leaned closer to purr in your ear, words like honey sending a shiver down your spine, “I want to know all your places.”

“You’re terrible. Maybe another time. It’s a longer walk but...I’m feeling ramen?”

“Lead the way.”

You felt your steps dragging as you and Derek walked, trying your best to hide it from your boyfriend. Your lungs burned despite the walk normally being well within manageable, and several times you stumbled, doing your best to stay upright in the wake of a wave of exhaustion.

“I know you wanted to get lunch,” you said suddenly, pausing, “but can't we just get to-go and go back to my place? I’m pretty tired, and I really don't…I was just hoping for a nap before work tonight.”

He caught your hesitation and frowned. “Baby, what's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just...haven't been feeling myself for a couple of days. It's been a hard semester, that's all. The walk’s making it hit me a little.”

Derek stopped, turning to face you, eyes tracing over your face. No doubt he was taking in the deep, almost bruise-colored bags under your eyes that were only sort of hidden by your makeup. Or maybe it was the glossy sheen behind them. Once he had spotted one, the other signs started to jump at him: your fever-flushed cheeks and discolored skin, your dry, cracked lips, the slump of your shoulders, even your unusually loose and ill-fitted clothing.

You watched his jaw working as he struggled to contain whatever thought was on the tip of his tongue.

“Go ahead and say it,” you said with a sigh, throat burning with the exaggerated airflow.

“Say what?”

“Whatever you’re holding back.”

“Baby girl, you look awful,” his tone was flat and his face apologetic.

You tried to laugh, but it came out in more of a wet cough that made you wince, partially from the feeling, but mostly from the look he now wore.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I’m not. It’s just a little cold,” you protested, the argument weakened by another coughing fit, this one hitting harder and leaving you wheezing. The fit, or the way you swayed, dizzy and unsteady as the blood rushed back out of your head when it was over, seemed to be the last straw.

“That’s it,” he said, tone serious and sharp. “We’re going to my mom’s and she and I are gonna take care of you.”

“But--”

“Nope. You lost your protest privileges.” He was already steering you back in the opposite direction of where you were headed. “You can call Nino and tell him you won’t be in while I drive.”

“I don’t want to rob you of lunch,” you tried to fight anyway, voice weak and throat raw.

“I’ll eat somethin at home. I can’t believe you’re still tryin to...” he shook his head, muttering fondly about stubborn Irish pains in the ass.

After begrudgingly making the call to Nino, who sounded shocked but completely forgiving, you decided on one last ditch effort to escape admitting to and dealing with being sick.

‘Help I’m being held hostage!’ you texted Sean.

His response came only a moment later. ‘What??????!’

‘Your stupid bestfriend is making me admit I’m sick and keeping me from going to work.’

‘He’ A second text came through a moment later. ‘Good.’

‘WHAT? You’re my cousin, you’re supposed to be on my side. Rescue me. Before he sics his mother on me.’

There was a long pause, more than you thought Sean should need to respond. When the message finally came through, you couldn’t help glaring at the screen.

‘I’d rather fight an actual bear than Ma Sandoval.’

‘Ah. So you’re in on it. I see how it is. Your betrayal will not be forgotten.’

‘Feel better soon.’ He added a smile to the end, and you could practically see it as his signature smirk.

‘I hate you.’

You sighed, shoving your phone back in your pocket and slumped down in the seat. You closed your eyes, hoping that it would combat the movement of the car and the effect it was having on your headache. You were frustrated at Derek for making you admit something was wrong (even though you knew really that he was right to) and at the fact that it seemed like the minute you admitted it, the symptoms seemed to get immediately worse.

The next thing you knew, you were stirred from a light doze by a change in movement. Instead of the steady, rocking vibration of the car and the smooth, cool feeling of the glass under your cheek, you were pressed close against something warm and solid, bobbing in a more natural, if uneven, rhythm. Your mind was sluggish but after a moment, and a soft, familiar chuckle as you buried your face into him to escape the sun in your eyes, you realized that it was because Derek was carrying you, bridal-style across the lawn and into his house.

You suppressed an involuntary whine and the urge to cling to him as he settled you down in his bed. Heavy blankets that smelled like him were pulled up around your shoulders, the sudden warmth making you realize how cold you’d been.

“Not sick my ass,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Get some sleep baby girl.”

The door clicked quietly behind him and you let the comfortable darkness pull you back under.

Some unknown time later, there was a knock that pulled you out of strange, feverish dreams and you croaked something that you hoped sounded like come in, squinting against the light that poured through behind the person.

“Y/N, you should wake up for a little while,” Derek’s mother said, flicking on a bedside lamp. “I made you soup.”

You pushed yourself up into a seated position and smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you Mrs. Sandoval.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you are dating my son, you at least call me Ma. Just like everyone else.”

“Sorry,” you looked down bashfully, the word tasting foreign in your mouth. “Ma.”

“Why are you not taking care of yourself?” she tutted as she set the bowl down and sat on the edge of the bed. “You are so busy trying to be able to be a fancy lawyer and change the world but you can’t do that if you drop dead. And of a little cold?”

“I--”

“And you made Derek worry.” She placed a wrist against your forehead to check your temperature. “He’s going to fret over you forever, now. It’s how he shows his love. I hurt my back a few years ago, and still he is ‘Mami you shouldn’t reach so high, Mami let me get that for you, Mami don’t carry so many heavy groceries.’ Imagine when you have children. They won’t be able to scrape a knee. If your doctor doesn’t put you on bed rest, he will.”

Her words made you choke on the food you had just sipped into your mouth, sending you into a coughing fit that left you short of breath.

“See, you wouldn’t be doing that if you said you were sick to begin with.”

“I just...thought if I took some cold medicine, it would go away on its own. I’ve been so busy. And I didn’t...want anyone to worry, or think anyone would care?” you admitted sheepishly, looking down at the soup in your lap and the blanket over your legs and trying not to think too hard about what you were telling her.

“Mija, look at me,” she said firmly but kindly. When you didn’t follow her instruction, she used a hand to tilt your head up. “You have family now. You don’t have to do everything alone. Now eat your soup.”

The sentiment, and the matter-of-fact way she delivered it, broke down a dam inside you, and suddenly you were crying, and she was hugging you, rubbing small circles on your back with one hand while the other cradled your head against her. You wanted to attribute your overwhelmed feelings to being sick, but in your heart you knew: it was a kind of acceptance and love that you had never expected, especially from someone who didn’t even have to like you.

After sitting like that for several long minutes, letting you sob and offering you comfort, she shifted back to nurse-mode.

“You need more fluids, not letting them all out through your eyes. Eat your soup, and I’ll go make you tea,” she said, nudging you back to rest against the headboard and standing.

You laughed wetly and tried again to thank her, only to have it waved away.

“How is she?” Derek asked, almost as soon as he walked through the door a few hours later.

His mother laughed, shaking her head wryly. “She will survive. Just needs to rest for a few days. It’s a cold.”

“That’s like asking the tide to take a few days off,” he chuckled, until his mother fixed him with a glare.

“Maybe if you told her the truth about how you felt, and she didn’t feel like she was on her own trying to be everything, she would.”

“Ma that’s not--”

“Derek Michael Sandoval, do not argue with me,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “You have been telling me for weeks now how much you love this girl, and it is obvious to a blind saint. Yet she is sick and doesn’t tell anyone because she thinks it would be a burden no one would want. Now what would give her that idea?”

Derek felt his stomach twist guiltily. It was true that he hadn’t told you he loved you, even though he was completely certain he did. But he thought it was for your benefit, to not scare you off by pushing too hard. He had never considered that it might be making things worse. He opened his mouth, looking for an answer to give his mother and found that he couldn’t get any words out. Instead, he just looked at her helplessly.

She rolled her eyes. “You are both so stupid.”

You were fast asleep when he slipped through the door, and as he got ready for bed as quietly as possible, he kept finding himself stopping to look down at you. You were burrowed deep in the blankets, wrapped in one of his hoodies in addition as the fever made you shiver. You looked so small and fragile and vulnerable there in his bed, and his chest ached with a need to protect you, a desire for taking care of you and loving to be his entire purpose in life for the rest of his life and it nearly knocked him on his ass.

As he slid under the covers beside you, you seemed to cuddle closer instinctively, and he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “And I know you can’t hear me right now, but baby girl, I promise, I’m gonna make sure you know, soon.”

#it wouldn't be me if it wasn't a little angsty #but mostly it's cute I think?#and more than a little cheesy #also guest starring Ma Sandoval because Moms make everything better #sick fic #Derek Sandoval x reader #Bad Samaritan fic #this ended up in a different direction than I intended but one I really like #I'm gonna go die now. goodnight #(coincidentally posted on Carlito's and thus Derek's birthday)#so that's fun

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argumentl · 3 years

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The Freedom of Expression - Ep 36 The banning of snacks and sweet drinks displays from next to cash registers.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru with this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome. Ok, today lets get straight on with it. Joe could you please...

J: Yes, lets have a look at this news. Snack and sweet drinks displays next to cash registers banned in Berkeley, California, USA. In the university city of Berkeley, northern California, a law has been passed this week banning the sale of junk food next to cash registers in supermarkets. According to local media, this is the first of its kind in America. The law, unanimously voted for by Berkeley City council, targets cheap, unhealthy products next to cash registers which 'encourage impulse buying, and burden parents of children who want them', with the aim of promoting healthy lifestyles. Products with over 5g of added sugar or 250mg of added sodium, and drinks containg a lot of sugar or artificial sweetners have been banned from sale next to cash registers. The ban will come into effect from next March. In the city of 120,000 people it will be imposed in 25 large scale supermarkets. The progressive city Berkeley, on the outskirts of San Francisco has been taking health initiatives before now. In 2014 they imposed a tax on soft drinks, and according to a survey from last year, consumption of soft drinks had halved by 2017.

K: Its true though, the cash registers over there have so many snacks near them.

J: They do, don't they?! They are really colourful. But banning it by law is really stepping in, isn't it?

T: Yeah.

J: The supermarkets aren't stopping it through self-restraint, its been forbidden by law, so if they do it will they be penalised?

T: Yeah, wow.

J: I think this is a warning that in America this kind of health damage caused by excessive additives and sugar in food is becoming a serious problem.

K: Yeah, people just end up picking it up.

J: When im waiting in line at the supermarket, its the same in Japan...in the convenience store in Japan, I wait till the last moment and always end up picking up those little Tirol chocolate squares.

K: Oh yeh, they have those out, don't they?

J: They do! Don't those chocolates just call out to you at the last minute? I always end up buying a few.

T: I buy 'Bikkuriman'. For the sticker.

J: Oh yeh. Still?

T: I just sometimes get the feeling like I want to open it. I reminds me off old times, haha. I throw it away straight away though.

J: Kaoru, what about you?

K: I don't buy that stuff.

J: Oh, you don't?

K: No, I just buy what I was intending to buy before I went. If Im walking around the store and I see an interesting new product or something, I might buy it, but the stuff near the cash register seems more like left over produce to me.

J: Ah, close to expiring?

K: Yeh, it looks like they really want you to buy it, so they put it there. I don't really feel like picking it up.

T: Ah, I see.

K: But in supermarkets they have gum and stuff near the registers, don't they?

J: Yeah.

K: I do buy gum.

J: Ahh, yeh...Kami? What do you think?

Kami: I pick all of it up.

T: Nice, Kami.

Kami: I get tonnes. 1000yen worth.

T: Haha

Kami: Maybe 500yen, not 1000.

K: Do you like sweets, Kami?

Kami: Yeh, i do. I pick them up straight away. Um, there's often drinks on display too, right?

J: Yeah.

Kami: If there's cola or fanta, I will buy both.

T: Haha

Kami: If I go to buy tea, I will buy all that.

K: You like sweet stuff, right?

J: Yeah.

Kami: No, its not that. Its just that it all looks delicious. It makes you forget *1

T: I see, yeh.

J: In that sense, its part of the store's strategy.

T: Yeh, Kami seems like he would hate that kind of strategy, but he still falls for it.

J: Yeh, he seems like he would be opposed to it, but he still buys tonnes, right Kami?

Kami: Yeh, I really jump on the bandwagon.

K: This stuff must sell a lot.

J: Yeh, I think so. This kind of food looks visually fun, right? Colourful and stuff. Kids get pulled in by it. Like, 'I wanna eat this!'. Its pretty amazing to pass a law in this. That would be impossible in Japan, right?

T: I feel like Japan has more freedom. I had the image since I was small that America is the country of freedom, but recently if you look at America, there is ban after ban...it seems like life there is getting more restricted. And in Japan, even with covid we can still go outside, or go to restaurants and stuff. It made me think Japan is quite free. Its a weird feeling.

J: Ahh, the rules in America are stricter?

K: Overseas, they were quite strict about indoors. Japan is only just getting like that recently, right?

J: Yeh, America was a lot quicker to regulate indoor smoking.

T: Its like that with alcohol too. When one of my best friends was in America during his student days, he once wore a Budweiser tshirt and he was told, 'Its illegal', and he had to change it. I thought that was pretty strict when I heard.

K: You can't carry it around with you either, can you?

J: Yeah, you have to put it in a bag.

K: I stepped outside a venue without knowing this while I was holding a beer can once, and I was told that isn't allowed.

J: Yeh, yeh, yeh. Well, it does depend on how you look at it. Its often said that in Japan, rather than having rules...well, in America there is a kind of society that is governed by rules, but in Japan its more about community, so rather than having rules, peer presure is very strong. People worry about what others think. Its very Japanese, 'other people are saying this, so...', or 'other people are doing this, so...'. People adapt themselves to that first of all.

T: I wonder which style is better?

J: Yeah. They are both different.

T: Its not nice being told by the government to stop something, is it? I understand the reasons though.

K: Well, people do protest that kind of thing.

Kami: But I think this law is good.

J: It is good.

Kami: I think its really good, because you can finish up without buying stuff.

K: Well, it is good.

Kami: Its really good. I thoroughly agree with it.

K: Kids won't pine for sweets either.

J: Yeh.

Kami: I do think its good to buy sweets for kids though.

J: Oh really?

K: Yeh, but just not there, right?

Kami: I wanted sweets when I was a kid.

K: Me too.

T: Yeh, me too.

Kami: I really wanted all those sweets by the register when I was a kid, but I never got them.

K: There are those socks full of snacks at Christmas, right? I wanted one of those.

T: Yeh, me too.

J: If you think about what made you excited as a kid, basically its the sweet shop, right?

K: Yeh, I used to go there.

J: Whenever I ate sour plums and stuff from the sweet shop, my tongue went bright red *2

K: They were crunchy, right?

J: Yeh! I would drink up all the syrup.

K: Haha.

J: I bet that would be no good under that tax in Berkeley.

T: Yeah.

K: Ahh, sweet shops...

T:???

J:???*3

K: I still feel like eating those kind of sweets sometimes.

J: Yeah. There aren't many sweet shops around these days, in the Tokyo area.

T: Yeah, there aren't.

K: But there are sections in other shops that sell those kinds of sweets.

T: A long time ago there was an izakaya in Sangenjaya that only served sweets as beer snacks.

K: Oh, there was, wasn't there?!

T: Yeh. I went a couple of times, cause its unusual, but sweets...

K: You can't withstand it?

J: After you become an adult, right? At first you are like, 'Woah, so nostalgic', but ..

T: Yeh, it gets boring.

J: You start to think halfway, 'this needs to be more tasteful!' Uh, in the precincts of Kishibojin there is apparently Japan's oldest sweet shop or something still there. Its a famous old man, or old woman who runs it.

K: I recently went to Kawagoe.

T: Oh, Little Edo!

K: Yeh, there is a sweet shop street there. The people there were amazing. Well, I mean they were all wearing yukatas and stuff, and eating.

T: Its made me want to go to a sweet shop!

J: Ah, there is a tonne of good places to eat there, isn't there?

K: Oh, is there? In Kawagoe?

J: Yeh.

K: As for sweet shops, the ones that have a downtown feeling are the best.

J: Yeah.

K: Its nostalgic, going to the sweet shop in the evening, and getting those colourful squeezy things to drink...

J: Yeh!

K: And eating sweets at the same time.

J: Which was your favourite sweet, Kaoru? From the sweet shop?

K: From the sweet shop? I liked Curry rice-crackers, and 5yen chocolate, and those gummy type things in a box, that you pick up with a little stick.

J: Oh yeh.

K: I used to eat that kinda stuff.

T: What about you, Joe?

J: I liked plum jam, I sandwiched it between those kinda soft rice-crackers. And I liked the Castella.

T: Oh yeh, they had those small ones.

J: Yeh, they were on a skewer. I used to eat them a lot.

K: Tasai?

T: I used to get those squeezy things too. And wasn't there always like a 10yen game outside sweet shops? I would win more sweets with that.

K: You won?? More sweets came out of the game?

T: It was like a 30yen ticket, right?

J, K: Ehh?

J: I never saw that.

T: Didn't you? Like, where you try to get the ball in the hole for ten yen? And if you win, you get a ticket?

K: Ah, I remember something like that where you can win, but I don't remember tickets coming out. It was little freebies. Ah, its nostalgic. Should we try going to a sweet shop on this show?

J: A sweet shop?? Should we??

K: Yeh.

T: Thats a good idea. With 100yen in change.

K: Actually, that place in Kawagoe was closed.

J: Haha, really?

K: I went all the way there, but..

J: Just for that?

K: Yeh.

J: Really?

K: Well, lets go to one on this show.

J: Yeh, lets do it! Film on location!

K: Ok, lets plan something. Lets fill ourselves with unhealthy snacks.

J: Ah, but it won't be that much.

K: Well, yeh.

J: It'll be limited to what you can get at the sweet shop.

T: Sounds good.

K: Is this ok? Us ending up talking about this?

T: Its ok, it feels good to talk about it.

J: It does, haha.

K: Ok, well, we'll finish here. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

*1, 2 Difficult to hear, but i think its this.

*3 Couldn't catch.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #kaoru #薫

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topsytervy · 3 years

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Rented ~ Rafe Cameron

Part 2

Blurb: After getting rented out to Rafe for midsummers and falling for him, the next week seems like a fairytale...until its not.

Word Count: 6,418

Warnings: swearing, like one sexual line, mentions of drugs, mentions of drinking, canon Rafe (sorry), age gap (16 and 19), mention of injury (the arm burn that Rafe gets from Barry), poorly edited, not as well written as part 1 and a bit (okay a lot) all over the place, I think thats it

This definitely wasn’t written as well as part 1 and I feel like each little part is their own separate blurbs but hey, it happens.

If you haven’t read Part 1, Here it is.

I just want to say that it’s not okay to rent out your friends or family members without their consent or just in general so…don’t be Barry. Also, google told me age of consent in North Carolina is 16 but THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. I DO NOT CONDONE A RELATIONSHIP WHERE ONE (OR MORE) OF THE PEOPLE IN A RELATIONSHIP IS A MINOR AND THE OTHER (OR OTHERS) IS AN ADULT. I DO NOT CONDONE IT AND DO NOT RECOMMEND IT. THIS IS PURELY FICTION AND FOR THE STORY.

~~~~~

Rafe held his arm as he walked up to the door of the chateau, tears pricking his eyes as he raised his fist to knock. He looked at the burn on his arm as he waited for the door to open.

"Please, Please, Please." He pleaded silently, holding back tears.

If you told him 3 months ago that he'd be pining after a pogue and then invite said pogue to midsummers, he would've laughed at you and told you to piss off.

If you then added that he would be dating the pogue he was pining after and now waiting on John B's porch, praying that she was in there, he would've had you in a padded room because you were clearly delusional.

But now, here he stood, a couple of days after midsummers, doing exactly that.

Kiara opened the door, looking Rafe up and down.

"So now you’re invading the chateau?" She asked him.

"Please tell me Y/N's here."

JJ rolled his eyes as you stood up from the couch, touching Kies’s shoulder and nodding that it was okay.

"What’s up, handsome?" You smiled.

"Y/N. I-I need some help...please." He whispered, showing you his arm.

You looked down at his arm and your eyes widened. "Shit Rafe." You whispered, grabbing his arm gingerly to get a better look at it before dragging him into the house and towards the bathroom.

JJ glared daggers at Rafe the entire way until you two disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind you.

"You're jealousy is showing." Pope sang, not even looking up from his book.

"What jealousy?" He asked, his voice low as he kept his eyes on the bathroom door.

Pope rolled his eyes before turning the page, ignoring the cluelessness of his friend.

You turned on the bathroom faucet, making sure it was cool before taking your boyfriend’s wrist in your hand before placing it under the water.

"Keep it there while I find the first aid kit okay?"

Rafe nodded as you rummaged through the bathroom, mentally cursing your friends for not putting the kit in the same place every time.

You finally found it underneath some towels and opened it up, finding some ointment and gauze. You pulled out the supplies before going to the medicine cabinet, Rafe moving so you could get in there. You pulled out the ibuprofen and grabbed a small dixie cup from the stack in the corner, filling it with water.

You turned off the faucet and handed him the pills and the cup. Rafe took it without complaint and you went to work on his arm.

"Rafe," you whispered as you applied some ointment to the burn and began wrapping his arm.

He looked up from your hands working on his wrist and into your eyes.

"Who did this?" You asked, concern lacing your words.

Rafe sighed, looking away from you in shame. "Barry." He muttered.

You paused your action as you looked at him. "Barry. Why the hell would he burn you unless…" You trailed off and his face gave him away. You tied off the gauze since you didn’t have any tape and sighed. "You said you quit."

"I said I’m trying to quit but it’s hard. You should know this, angel." Rafe whispered.

He seemed so broken.

"How many lines did you do?"

“Just half a line, I swear. The withdrawal was getting to me so I did half a line to ease it a bit. Then your brother came by asking for his money and I didn’t have it and-and-"

You placed your hands on his face. "It’s okay. It’s okay. C'mere." You slid your hands around his neck, standing on your toes as you hugged him.

His arms went around your waist and he buried his face into your neck, letting the tears fall. You stayed like that for a while until JJ banged on the door.

"I swear to God, you two better not be fucking in there! You wanna go to pound town, you go somewhere else!"

You rolled your eyes and Rafe pulled away from you. You wiped away Rafe’s tears before giving him a kiss.

"You wanna go somewhere else for a while, handsome."

Rafe smirked. "Why? Wanna go to pound town?"

You smacked him lightly. "No. I wanna make sure you're okay and I doubt you and JJ can be in the same room together for a couple of hours without one or both of you going to jail."

Rafe chuckled before grabbing your hand, nodding in agreement as he headed towards the door but you stopped him by not moving.

"Let’s go to the place you took me after midsummers. Get some food and we can hang out there for a while." You suggested.

Rafe grinned. "That sounds like an amazing idea, angel."

****

It was around 9 PM when Rafe dropped you off at home. You waved goodbye to Rafe before he pulled out of the driveway.

You walked into the trailer, closing the front door behind you quietly before leaning against the door. A smile adorned your lips as you touched your cheek where Rafe kissed you goodnight before touching the necklace that he gave you.

You heard a whistle and whipped your head towards the kitchen, your brother standing there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"I never thought I'd see the day where my sister would be all done up like a doll. Looking like a full kook now." He walked over.

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever Barry."

"No. Not whatever Barry. For someone who despises the kook life and looking like a kook, you're sure smiley after coming home looking like that and being surrounded by kooks." He observed.

"Yeah. I had good liquor, not cheap shit." You told him, rolling your eyes before walking towards your room.

"Nice necklace. Don’t leave it out or I’m trading it in." Barry hollered.

You slammed your door shut and sighed.

"Don't be slamming doors in my household!" You rolled your eyes at Barry’s words, too tired and on cloud 9 to deal with your brother.

You took off your jewelry, minus the necklace Rafe gave you, and kicked off your heels. You grabbed your pajamas before stalking off into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

While you waited for the water to heat up, you stripped out of your clothes before checking the waters temperature. You hopped in shortly after, doing your usual shower routine which took longer than usual thanks to your mind reminiscing on tonight’s event. It wasn’t until Barry started banging on the door that you were snapped from your thoughts.

"Come the hell on! It’s too late for this and I gotta piss!"

"Alright, alright!" You hollered back, turning off the water and grabbing the towel so you could dry yourself.

You pulled on your sweatpants and tank top before opening the door.

"God damn Y/N, taking 20 years," Barry muttered, rushing into the bathroom as you pushed past him.

You closed your bedroom door as you entered, immediately crawling into bed and under the covers. You touched the necklace once more, a small smile on your face before you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep for a few hours.

Rafe wasn't so lucky. He was so ecstatic that he couldn’t fall asleep. He was giddy as if he did four lines and drank two monsters right before bed.

He really did try to fall asleep but it wasn’t working. By 1 AM, he was still wide awake, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He pulled on his sweatshirt and grabbed his shoes before opening his bedroom door, making his way downstairs soundlessly

Once he was out the door and in his truck, he put on his shoes, starting the truck afterward, and driving towards your home. Rafe got out and pulled out his phone, sending you a quick text.

You walked back into your bedroom with a glass of water, yawning as you closed your bedroom door once again. Your phone vibrated on your nightstand and you grabbed it, seeing a text from Rafe.

You up angel?

You smiled at the message, immediately setting down your glass.

Yeah. What’s wrong?

Nothing. Can't sleep. Wanna join me on a little drive?

You looked around and grabbed a hoodie.

I'd be honored.

You pulled on your hoodie and opened up your window, climbing out of it with ease. You walked towards Rafe, who's hair was messy for once, and he smiled.

"You work fast. What is this in your head? Date number five. " you joked when you got close enough.

"I don't know if I’d consider driving around and getting a bunch of shit for midsummers a date." He responded.

You kissed his cheek as he opened the door for you, closing it before walking over to the driver’s side and getting in himself.

"What about the day we had that picnic on the dock?" You buckled your seatbelt before leaning against the center console, arms crossed and head resting on them as you stared at the blue-eyed boy next to you.

"I'd consider that me trying to swoon and win you over. You know? Try to get you to like me." Rafe told you.

"Okay. Then what would you consider earlier tonight?" You asked.

"Now that is what I'd consider the first date." Rafe grinned, looking over at you as he pulled put of the driveway.

"It is quite the event to have a first date."

"I know."

"And I'll admit that seeing you in that suit was the final nail in the coffin." You admitted.

Rafe looked over at you. "Oh, really? Maybe I should've tried wearing a suit sooner."

"Maybe you should've." You nudged his arm lightly. "Where are we going?"

"Good question. Do you have anywhere you wanna go?" He asked you, making a random turn.

You chewed on your lip, trying to think of someplace but couldn’t. You shook your head and Rafe laughed.

"Alright. I know a place."

"Do you now?"

He looked at you. "Oh, angel. Do I know a place that is gonna knock your socks off." Confidence lacing his words.

"Well, we will see, won’t we?"

Rafe smiled as you brought your legs up onto the seat and threw your hood over your head.

Within 10 minutes, you were in a wooded area, the road a little bumpy.

"There should be some blankets and a pillow in the back. Wanna grab them?" Rafe said as he made a turn.

You nodded, turning around in your seat to grab them before stopping. "What exactly have these blankets been exposed to?"

Rafe laughed. "They're freshly washed and they're the blankets I use whenever I need to get away from my dad for a night. I'll come out here and sleep in the bed of the truck."

"I never thought you’d be the camping type." You commented, reaching back and actually grabbing the blankets and the pillow this time.

"I wouldn’t call it camping. Just getting away from the crazy." He parked the truck and turned off the ignition, taking the keys and shoving them in his sweatpants pocket.

He grabbed some of the blankets from you before getting out of the truck, heading towards the bed. You followed Rafe’s actions, stopping when you got to the bed.

"How the hell did you find this place?" You asked, taking in the little clearing amongst all the trees. It was complete with a little pond and a nice view of the sky.

"Fight with Rose and Ward. Took a little drive. Made some random turns and the next thing I knew, I was here." Rafe took the blankets from your arm, leaving you with the pillow.

"It’s so peaceful." You breathed out.

"I know." He said, sitting on the bed of the truck as he took his shoes off.

He crawled over to the little window that led into the backseat and opened it, throwing his shoes through it. You tossed him the pillow before hopping onto the bed to take your own shoes off, doing the same thing as Rafe.

Your Y/E/C eyes met his blue ones and he opened his arms as he laid his head down on the pillow. You made your way over to him and rested your head on his chest as Rafe pulled a blanket over the two of you. He wrapped an arm around your waist as his other hand went to play with your hair.

You two stared at the stars for a while before you spoke.

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Shoot."

You reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "As much as I like the slicked-back greaser look, I like it a bit better this way. All messy and whatever."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. You don't look so stuck up this way."

Rafe laughed a bit, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"I bet."

You both ended up falling asleep like that. You with your head on his chest and curled into his side; Him with his arms around you and his cheek pressed against the top of your head.

*****

You sat in the bed of Rafe’s truck again, you leaning against the cab as Rafe leaned against you, his head against your chest. Your fingers played with his hair as you two basked in the silence.

Rafe could've fallen asleep like that but his mind was racing.

"Y/N, angel,"

You hummed in response, looking down at him.

"Can-can you try to convince Barry to give me until the weekend?"

You sighed. "You know Barry doesn't like me sticking my nose in his little drug empire. Chances are he won't even listen to me."

"Please," He whispered.

You stayed quiet for a few moments.

"I’ll try." You kissed the top of his head. "You have to promise me that you go to urgent care to get that burn checked out tonight though. Okay? It looks bad and I don't want it getting infected or anything."

"I promise,"

****

"Nah. Country club was late on a payment. He doesn’t get his bike back until it’s paid off." Barry told you, bringing his beer to his lips.

"Okay. I know that you had to take his bike since it was his collateral, but burning his wrist? Barry, that was horrible." You scolded him.

Barry shrugged. "Don't care."

"You should care! Rafe is trying to get his life back on track and for all I know, that might set him back. He might go a snort a couple of lines to deal with the pain!" You retorted.

Barry ignored you, setting his beer down and standing up. "It’s weird how you suddenly care about him and his well-being."

You scoffed as you rolled your eyes and Barry walked towards you. "You also haven't taken that necklace off since you got home from midsummers. JJ couldn't have bought it, he ain't got the money for it so that answer is off the table. So either you swiped it from some rich bitch or some rich dick bought it for you."

"You do know JJs a klepto, right? He still could've given it to me."

"And then, there's you saying Rafes trying to get his life together. Weird considering you don’t talk to his friends or his family. I'm pretty sure the last time you talked to him was midsummers and Rafe isn't the kind to have a little sit-down public pity party. He likes looking like he'll beat the shit out of you if you even breathe his way. He likes looking like the alpha."

"What are you? A fucking profiler?" You started backing up until you hit a wall.

"All this bullshit can only mean one thing," Barry cornered you, "you're messing around with Rafe Cameron."

You swallowed as you glared at him and Barry laughed.

"My little sister is getting it on with Rafe Cameron. Holy shit. That’s why he paid me so he could take you to his little kook event. Oh my god. Country club caught feelings for a pogue! I kinda wish you didn’t like him back cause maybe he'd keep paying me to take you out." Barry grinned.

"You're disgusting. You would pimp out your little sister so you can make a little money." You shook your head in disgust.

Barry narrowed his eyes before grabbing your wrist. "Don’t you ever say that ever again. I may have let it happen with Rafe but if Luke or someone else walked in and handed me money and told me that it was so they could have their way with you, I'd beat them bloody. So don’t you ever, ever, say I'd pimp you out. You should be thanking me considering you have a rich boy toy now."

You wrenched your wrist from his hand, rubbing it a bit. "Don't touch me, Barry."

You pushed Barry out of the way and walked out the front door, immediately calling JJ.

"Come pick me up. I can't stay here tonight.”

"Why?"

"JJ…"

"Okay. Okay. I got it. I'll be there in like 15. I'll steal the twinkie."

Within 20 minutes, you were seated in the passenger seat next to JJ.

"So...you gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to beat Barry up with the only defense being he sells coke to mt dad?" JJ broke the silence, glancing at you.

"He said he wishes I didn’t end up liking Rafe back cause then he probably would've made bank off of Rafe paying him to have a date with me or something like that." You sighed.

JJ looked at you in disgust. "Like pimp you out?"

"That’s what I said. That he was disgusting for that. All he said after that was that if it was anyone but Rafe, he'd beat them bloody. He even said I should be thanking him cause I have a rich boy toy now." You let your head rest against the glass.

"Well, I don’t thank him," JJ muttered.

You lifted your head to look at him. "What?"

"You and Rafe are kind of a thing now, right?" JJ glanced at you, turning on the blinker.

"I mean, I don’t think we're like...exclusive or whatever. I think it’s just we're seeing each other and seeing where it goes." You answered, feeling a bit shy all the sudden.

"Well, your brilliant brother Barry got you seeing a cokehead who has some slight anger issues when he's sober and they are possibly worse when he's high," JJ stated.

"J, I-"

"Don't J me, Y/N. I'm being straight with you, okay? Rafe doesn’t have the best track record. He can be a bit...unpredictable."

"He's trying to get himself off coke." You defended him.

"I get that but listen to me. There’s going to be some trip-ups. He’s going to relapse at some point and if you confront him while he’s high or do one thing that sets him off when he's high, he might hurt you." JJ looked at you before looking back at the road, "I don’t want you to get hurt."

You placed your hand on his forearm. "JJ, I have faith in him and I know it’s going to be a bumpy road. But you know me. I want to help people through their toughest times. I believe Rafe genuinely cares about me and that I can help get him through this."

JJ looked at you before holding up his pinky. "Promise me that if he lays a hand on you in any threatening way that you'll dump his ass and tell me."

You took your hand off his arm and linked your pinky with his. "Promise. "

****

After finding out that Ward had the gold now, you couldn’t help but tear up a little and there was one person who you knew could help cheer you up.

"I can't tell if your eyes are red cause your high or cause you've been crying," Rafe commented as he set the bong on the table in front of him.

"I only had a hit off JJs blunt so it’s gotta be the latter." You admitted, heading over to the little couch to sit on.

Rafe felt his jaw clench at JJs name but unclenched it within seconds and caught you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap.

"Awe angel. What’s wrong?" He cooed, giving your jaw a little kiss.

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. "Let’s say something my friends and I really looked forward to getting is now gone. And Barry tried robbing my friends but that’s a whole different story."

Rafe nodded, hearing about his sister’s break-in the day it happened so he focused on the first part. "May I ask what this something was?"

Rafe rubbed small circles on your back as you thought about it.

"Not really but if I had what we were going to get, I would be on my way to getting emancipated and getting the hell out of here." Rafe leaned back and you placed your head on his shoulder. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

You shot Rafe a look. "Don’t play the dumb card."

"I’m fine," Rafe told you.

"Don't lie to me. Barry has been raging to me ever since your dad beat him and Whe-"

Rafe’s eyes widened, grabbing your chin and lifting your head so you were looking at him. "He's not hurting you for what my dad did, right? Cause I'll- I'll fucking kill him if he is."

"No, no, no. He's just been bitching about it." You reassured him, seeing him visibly relax, "but Wheezie told me you were here and that Ward kicked you out."

Rafe sighed, throwing his head back. "Blabbermouth."

"Rafe, why didn’t you tell me?"

"It’s my problem, not yours. Unlike Sarah who can’t do any wrong, I do everything wrong. That’s probably why he's taking Sarah to the Bahamas."

"What are you talking about?" You sat up.

"He's taking an impromptu trip to the Bahamas with his favorite kid even though I know way more about business than her." Rafe fumed.

You kissed his temple and played with his hair before stopping.

"Rafe, I have to go. I-I just remembered I’m supposed to be helping JJ with his English homework." You told him as you got off of his lap.

"What? It’s summer." Rafe pointed out, a confused look on his face.

"Well, yeah. But it's JJ so summer school, ya know." You laughed lightly before giving him a peck on the lips. "I’ll text you later, okay?"

And with that you left, leaving Rafe alone. He felt jealousy course this his veins before sighing. If JJ wanted him out of the picture and to take his place, he would've made up some lie about Rafe already that would've had him out of your life already.

He had to get used to the fact that JJ and you were close, always looking out for each other, making sure each other didn't get into any trouble.

And as hard as it was for him to swallow, you wouldn't drop JJ. Rafe had to share you with others.

And if there’s one thing he wasn’t the best at, it was sharing.

*****

After Rafe had told you about Ward and Sarah’s trip to the Bahamas, you rushed to find your friends, running into Pope on the way, exchanging information as you guys made your way to your friends.

"So Ward killed Big John?" Disbelief laced your voice as you approached the dock.

Pope nodded his head, both of you panting as you came to a stop, the other three members of the group staring at you two.

You sat down on the ground as you placed your hands above your head and Pope stood, bent over with his hands on his knees.

JJ walked over to you and crouched down, rubbing your back as he looked between you and Pope.

"You guys okay?" Kie asked, eyebrows raised.

You both shook your heads.

"We ran all the way here." Pope panted.

"Why?" John B asked.

Pope pointed at you. "You first."

"Well...I-I went Tanneyhill to visit Rafe and um… Wheezie told me he wasn't there. Ward kicked him out after catching Rafe going through his safe to pay off Barry. Ward paid him off or whatever. He said some things about how Rafes a liar and a thief-"

"Wow. I'm so shocked." JJ deadpanned with an eye-roll.

You stared at him and he raised his hands in surrender, letting you continue. "So I went to check on him. See if he relapsed or anything. I asked him what was wrong and he-he said something about Ward and Sarah taking a trip to the Bahamas. Popcorning it to Pope."

"My dad said something about having to cut down some trees for Ward to extend the runway for his jet. Why would he need to extend his runway unless something heavy was in that plane?" Pope rushed out.

"We still have a chance." John B looked at everyone.

"To the twinkie!" Kie hopped up, taking off in a sprint.

JJ pulled you up and you groaned, running after them.

****

"He's hurting her." John B said.

"What?" JJ looked over at his best friend.

"You guys watched as John B stormed towards the van.

"John B! Hey, man!" JJ hollered.

He slid into the driver’s side before slamming the door shut.

"JB! Think about this" Kie tried.

The van started and he charged the fence. JJ grabbed you and pulled you off to the side as you all watched him take off towards the plane.

"Oh my god. What is he thinking?" You whispered.

"I don’t think he is." JJ breathed out.

It wasn’t long before you heard police sirens.

"Come on. We have to go." Kie told you guys.

"Are you kidding me? We have to help him!" JJ shouted.

"JJ, listen to me. You are on probation. You, and I can’t stress this enough, cannot be here right now especially when that gun is in your bag. And don't say it’s not because I know it is." You attested, holding JJs shoulders.

JJ sighed, grabbing his hat from the ground and pulling it on his head before you all took off running.

****

Rafe’s hand was running through his hair as his other held the gun. Sheriff Peterkin laid on the ground as Ward spoke to him, showing his son that he had the Sheriff's walkie talkie.

Rafe looked past his dad to see John B walking backward.

"Hey. Hey! Where do you think you're going?" He shouted, lifting the gun again.

"John B, run." Sarah told him.

John B took off as Sarah and Ward stopped Rafe from going after him. Only one thought ran through his head as the curly haired boy ran off.

John B was going to tell you, which meant Rafe might lose you.

****

"Who's blood is that John B?" Kiara asked.

You were sitting next to Pope before you were standing up.

"Sheriff Peterkins." He answered numbly.

"What? How did her blood get on you?" JJ asked.

"Rafe shot Peterkin."

Your eyes widened. "What?"

"Rafe shot Peterkin, Y/N. She was going to arrest Ward and he shot her trying to protect his dad."

Your fingers immediately went to your necklace and you shook your head, tears in your eyes. "He wouldn’t."

"Y/N. Listen to me. Why would I lie about something like this? Rafe shot Peterkin in the back. I swear to you, on god, he did." He crouched down looking at you.

Your arms wrapped around your waist. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Popes immediately put his hand on your back. "We're sorry, Y/N." He mumbled.

"I didn’t think he'd murder someone." You whispered.

"No one could've known. Okay. Don’t beat yourself up over." Pope reassured you.

"I should've stayed with him."

Pope looked up at JJ and nodded towards you. JJ sighed, walking over to you and sitting down, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

"Y/N listen to me. It’s over, okay. It’s done. Its happened. Do not blame yourself because he decided to do something irrational."

Your fingers ran over the word ‘angel’ as you spoke. "I’m a fool. Getting involved with him."

Kie immediately shook her head. "No, you're not. He's a charmer, okay. A smooth talker. It’s fine. He told you he was going to change his bad habits and instead, he ended up doing something way worse than what he usually does."

Silence hung in the air for a minute before John B spoke. "We have to go to the police."

The four of you nodded, JJ turning his attention to you. "When’s the last time you ate?"

You shrugged.

"Let’s stop somewhere quick and get her something to eat. Something to-go."

"I’m not really hungry, J." You mumbled.

"Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, you need to eat before you pass out or something. Even if it’s just chips."

JJ’s eyes bore into yours and you sighed, nodding, still messing with the necklace Rafe gave you.

"Can you drop me off at the beach on the way to the police station? And you can pick me up when you're done. I'll text one of you where I'm at." You asked.

Everyone looked at each other before nodding and heading towards the twinkie. Once in the van, you pulled out your phone and texted Rafe.

Beach. 15 minutes.

****

Rafe has been texting you since he got home and none of them had received an answer. Not even a read receipt which he would've taken at this point.

So when he finally got a text from you saying to be at the beach in 15 minutes, he wasted no time in throwing on some shoes and grabbing his car keys, practically sprinting to his car and speeding towards the beach.

When he got there and stepped out of the car, he sent you a text.

Where are you?

You were quick to reply.

Dock.

He made his way towards the dock and you sat on the edge, legs swinging as your hands gripped the wood.

"Hey, angel. You haven’t replied to any of my texts. I was getting worried that something happened to you." He greeted, the sight of you easing his nerves a little.

You stood up and ran a hand through your hair, looking out at the water. "I'm going to be blunt and ask you flat out... did you kill Sheriff Peterkin?"

Rafe hesitated for a second before letting out a light laugh. "What are you talking about, Y/N?"

You turned around, blinking back tears. "Did you kill Peterkin?" You asked slower. "And don't lie to me, Rafe. John B already told me but I want- no. I need to hear it from you. So, did you kill Peterkin?"

Rafe scratched the tip of his nose with his thumb, sighing. "I...I shot Peterkin. Yes."

You felt the tears threatening to spill so you dug the heel of your hands into your eyes. You gathered your thoughts before speaking once more. "Who did you and your father pin it on?"

"What?"

"Rafe. Don't play fucking dumb with me. I know you're not stupid. We both know Ward wouldn’t want his family name being dragged like that so who the hell did you pin it on." You seethed.

"John B." Rafe whispered after a minute.

You shook your head in disbelief as Rafe grabbed your hands. "Listen, Y/N, angel. The first week of a relationship is always a little rocky. We'll work through it.”

You snatched your hands away from him. "It’s one thing to be there for your partner when they're going through a problem like addiction or something and to work through those issues. It’s an entirely different thing when your partner commits a murder. There is no way to work through it, Rafe. You killed someone. I knew there'd be ups and downs but I didn't think this would be one of them."

"Y/N, listen to me. Okay? I need you to listen to me. It's going to be fine. I can get two tickets to wherever you want to go. Belgium, Argentina, Greenland, Canada, London, New Zealand, wherever. Just tell me where and we'll go. Leave. Start fresh. Only bring a bag and a carry-on and we'll fly the hell out of here. Yeah? How does that sound, angel?"

You stared at him, mouth agape. "I cannot in good conscience flee the country with you or even be with you unless you try and be a better person."

Rafe licked his lips. "What do you want me to do? Recycle. Give to the poor. What?"

"Rafe. Doing all that doesn’t make up for the life you took."

"She was going to kill my dad, Y/N. What did you want me to do? Stand there and watch!"

"Despite what you think Rafe, you're dad isn’t a saint. He wasn’t going to get shot unless he tried something stupid, he was going to be arrested! Sheriff Peterkin found out that your dad killed Big John and possibly some other dirt on him. You and I both know you probably wouldn't be this way of he didn’t treat you as if you were dog shit on the bottom of his new Italian shoes. What do you think is gonna happen if the truth comes out? Hmm? That John B didn’t kill Peterkin but you did. You think your father is still going to be there and picking up the pieces. No! He'll sit there and let you rot in prison as long as it’s not him. As long as he's in the clear, he's not going to do shit. All he cares about is his image and if you get thrown in jail, he’ll just disown you. Say you're not his son when they ask for a comment from him. He will find a way to avoid going to prison, even if it means throwing his own son under the bus. We both know this Rafe. I’m sorry but it's the truth."

Your Y/E/C eyes bore into his dull blue ones that were once bright. You reached behind your neck and unlatched the necklace as you saw headlights pull up.

"Here."

Rafe shook his head. "No."

"Take it, Rafe."

"I’m not taking it back Y/N."

"Rafe, just take the damn thing."

He shook his head as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I said no."

"Why not?" You asked trying to keep your voice from breaking.

"Because if I take it back then that means you're not mine anymore." He answered.

"Whether or not you take it back, I'm not yours until you right your wrongs cause this is a really big wrong that absolutely needs to be righted."

"Y/N!" You heard JJ call as footsteps made their way towards you.

"Please, Rafe." You whispered, taking his wrist and prying his fingers open, laying the necklace in his palm. "It was a fun week." You whispered once more before running towards JJ, the tears finally falling.

"Y/N! Please don't leave me! Y/N! "Y/N!" Rafe screamed after you, but it was too late.

Rafe fisted his hair as he walked off the dock before taking his hand and punching a nearby trashcan.

The one motivation he had to change for the better had run away from him.

****

You sat next to JJ, head on his shoulder as he had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, your phone vibrating every 2 minutes.

"You get that thing you needed to do done?" He asked.

You nodded.

JJ desperately wanted to ask what the thing was that you needed to do. However, between John B being on the run from the cops and Pope and Kie being in the van, he knew he shouldn't ask considering everyone would tell him its none of his business.

So, he used his eyes to try and figure out what it was that you needed to do. After all, he's watched some Criminal Minds with you so he should be able to do this.

His eyes trailed over your body to figure it out. When he got to your neck, he noticed that the angel necklace that once adorned it was gone, leaving your neck bare.

Between that and what seemed like constant messages and calls, JJ figured you broke things off with Rafe.

Your phone started vibrating again and he gave you a small smile as he reached over and grabbed your phone.

He saw Rafe’s name and picture flashing across the screen before it stopped, a number five next to his name for the missed calls and twenty next to texts.

And then Rafe’s picture was back on the screen, staring at JJ. The blonde sighed and rolled his eyes, turning off your phone before putting it in his pocket.

He looked down at you to see the tear stains on your cheeks and your eyes dull, half-open as you blankly stared ahead of you.

"Why don't you sleep for a bit, Y/N/N? You look like you’ve had a rough day." JJ whispered into your ear.

"Mkay." You mumbled closing your eyes as JJ rubbed your arm.

JJ moved around so you could be a bit more comfortable, laying your head on his chest as he played with your hair to help you fall asleep faster.

Kiara looked at JJ.

"She okay?" She mouthed.

He only shrugged as he turned his attention to you.

"It's a lot to process." He mouthed back to Kie as he glanced back at her.

The curly-haired girl nodded as she watched JJ's gaze return to you. Your eyes were slowly closing as you worked on falling asleep, only focusing on JJs heartbeat and his fingers running through your hair as you tried to forget the last week.

But it’s hard to forget the last week when it felt like you were living in a fairytale. And for pogues, it was a nice change to feel like you were.

But I guess this goes to show that not all fairytales have happy endings. And that not all handsome princes are knights on steeds ready to be a hero.

Sometimes, they're the worst villain in the story.

~~~~~~~~