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teaberrii · 10 months

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Chapter 9: Dinner for Two

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Chapter notes: Mention of suicide

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

You’re sitting in a chair in front of a mirror in a room at the back of Jingliu’s gym. She’s leaning close to you, meticulously doing your makeup in a way that you’ve never thought to do before. You usually stick with one style: natural. But this time, you have a slightly bolder look that makes you look like a princess who just stepped out of a novel. You look at Jingliu’s reflection, and your eyes meet hers when she also looks in the mirror.

Then, with a little smile, she says, “Are you curious? It’s okay to ask.”

“Well, um, your eye…”

Jingliu puts the brush on the vanity table and stands behind you, her hands on the back of your chair. “I was in an accident after the Global Games.”

“No…! No! What do you mean she’s blind? That can’t be! That—”

“Please, calm down.” A nurse tried to pry a distraught middle-aged woman away from the doctor.

The angry woman rudely shrugged the nurse away. “Answer me! She—”

“She’s only partially blind,” the doctor said as calmly as he could. “...She’s lucky that she’s alive.”

Jingliu, dressed in a hospital gown, had half of her head wrapped in bandages, including over one of her eyes. She was disoriented and confused when she woke up. It wasn’t until minutes later that she realized she was in a hospital. But she could still see it, still hear it. The sudden car that ran a red light. The sound of tires screeching, loud honking, and nearby screams.

It’d been painful, but she got out of bed and heard her mother outside. So, Jingliu slowly opened the door and limped out to hear what was going on.

“We’ll do more tests once she’s awake.”

“...Mom.”

Everyone turned, and Jingliu’s mother immediately walked up to her. “Jingliu! How… How are you feeling? When did you wake up?”

But, Jingliu only had one person on her mind. “...Where is he?” She said her boyfriend’s name. “Is he okay? I want to see him.”

Her mother looked down, and her face turned a little pale. “...He’s…”

That’s a moment Jingliu can never forget. Having won Gold at the Global Games in Wushu, her longtime boyfriend, one of her biggest supporters, had taken her out to celebrate. But the day turned tragic, and her road to recovery got worse when the rescue team found a ring in the crash.

Jingliu had gone unexpectedly quiet after she told you she’d been in an accident. You guess she’s reminded of that terrible day, and you’re about to change the subject when she says, “It’s been nearly over a decade since then, but it’s how I came back to Xianzhou. I grew up here, and… it was a safe place for me.”

“It's very different from the city. That’s to be expected, of course, but I do feel a strong sense of community. Everyone knows each other, it seems.”

“There are pros and cons. I’m sure the reason why you’re curious about my situation is because you heard someone talk about it.”

“You got me there.”

“Good news. Bad news. Whatever news… It travels fast.” Jingliu has a kind look in her eyes. “Just be careful of what you want people to be talking about.”

Her phone buzzes, and you watch her take it out. Her eyes scan whatever is on the screen before she puts it back into her pocket.

“Jing Yuan should be here any minute,” she says. Somehow, you doubt that message was from Jing Yuan. “Ready to go?”

As soon as you open the door and turn the corner, you see Jing Yuan talking with the brothers. His eyes immediately land on you. The brothers also turn, and Dan Feng lets out a low whistle.

“Not bad, not bad,” the older brother says.

Dan Heng nods. “You look good.”

Jingliu comes up behind you. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Jing Yuan walks up just as Jingilu leans against the counter. He leans over and whispers in your ear, “You look beautiful, as always.”

Your eyes meet his just as Jing Yuan leans upright. You keep your eyes on him and with a confident, little smile, you say, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“I guess we don’t get any compliments.”

Dan Heng gives his brother a deadpan look. “...Did you have to ruin the moment?”

“All right. Now, I’m going to have to kick all of you out,” Jingliu says. “It’s closing time, after all.”

You and Jing Yuan are alone in the car as it weaves through the town. The brothers, likely out of courtesy, are walking back to the bed and breakfast after grabbing takeout.

“Is Yanqing joining us for dinner?” you ask.

“Blade’s looking after him tonight.”

“O-oh, is he?”

Jing Yuan gives you a mischievous look. “Are you nervous?”

“About what?”

Suddenly, he takes your hand, and you immediately turn to him. “You tell me.”

You quietly scoff. “Hands on the wheel, General.” Yet, you don’t pull back.

The thought of his hands roaming your body sits in the back of Jing Yuan’s mind, but he refuses to entertain that.

“All right.” Jing Yuan puts both his hands on the wheel.

You chuckle. “Didn’t think you’d be that obedient.”

Then, before he can stop himself, he asks, “Should I not be?”

It’s for a second that your eyes meet, and you have to face forward as you feel your face warm. Jing Yuan pulls up to a small, cozy house that combines modern and traditional elements. There’s a single light at the end of the driveway, helping you see that the outside of the house is a warm colour mix of beige and brown.

After Jing Yuan parks the car in the garage, he opens the door for you leading into the house. You step in, and you smell freshly cooked food mixed with a little cedar.

“Is that chicken I smell?” you ask.

“Good guess.”

You follow Jing Yuan into the living room where you immediately notice the minimalistic design. There are a couple of ink paintings on the cream-coloured walls, a fireplace in a corner, two couches adjacent to each other, and a large light in the shape of a ball hanging from the ceiling. Once you’re in the dining room, you see two plates and utensils placed across from each other on a small, marble dining table.

“Would you like some wine?” Jing Yuan asks.

You sit at the table. “Sure.” When he comes back with a large bottle of red wine, you say, “I thought you were more of a beer kind of guy.”

Jing Yuan effortlessly opens the bottle with a corkscrew and fills your glass. “Wine is for special occasions.”

You look outside and see a little garden in the back. Jing Yuan brings in the food, and you immediately turn upon smelling something fresh out of the oven. There’s baked chicken breast sprinkled with basil, Salmon Bread, fried rice, and more.

“You prepared all of this in one day?” you ask in disbelief.

“I cook almost every day for Yanqing.” Jing Yuan sits across from you. “So, I’m usually prepared. I already had some of this prepared before I invited you over.”

You put a chicken breast on your plate and slice off a piece. After taking a bite, you nod in approval. “Not bad, General.”

“There’s also dessert,” Jing Yuan says. “So… Save some room.”

“Ooh, what’re we having for dessert?”

Jing Yuan puts an elbow on the table and slightly leans closer. “That’s a surprise.”

“Keepin’ secrets now, are we?”

“It’s a Xianzhou delicacy.”

“My expectations are even higher."

“You won’t be disappointed.”

You and Jing Yuan continue working away at the food, talking about whatever comes to mind. You learn that his parents are frequently overseas and he was raised by his grandmother until she passed when he was in high school.

“Was she the one who encouraged you to learn Wushu?” you ask.

“No, actually. I went to Jingliu myself.” You reach for the Salmon Bread, and Jing Yuan brings the plate closer to you.

"She told me that you showed up in scars and bruises..."

"I can still remember the look on her face when I did. That was right after I got jumped."

A young Jing Yuan was walking home with his nose in a book when he heard footsteps. He looked up and saw his bigger, male classmate step out from behind a building. Upon hearing something behind him, Jing Yuan turned and saw three more classmates walk up.

“...Would you leave her alone?”

Jing Yuan turned. “What are you talking about?”

Then, his classmate said a girl’s name. Jing Yuan knew her as the outgoing, popular girl in the other class. A lot of the guys liked her, but she only paid special attention to Jing Yuan.

“Stop trying to show off in front of her.” The kid walked until he was in front of him. “You’re an eyesore.”

Jing Yuan sighed. “Taking your jealousy out on me won’t do you any good. Rather, it makes you—” His eyes went wide as a hard punch to his gut caught him off guard. He doubled over and felt someone knock him to the ground from behind.

“Did they get punished?” you ask.

“I should’ve reported them. That would’ve been the logical thing to do. But…”

“You wanted to get back at them.”

“...That’s right."

Then, with an intrigued look, you ask, “Did you win the next time?”

“You aren't going to scold me?”

You shrug. “I agree you should’ve reported them, but… a little revenge doesn’t hurt.”

“Encouraging violence, are we?”

“Hey, stop twisting my words.”

Clink!

After taking a sip of your wine, you put your glass down. Jing Yuan does the same and says, “I did get my revenge, but everyone got hurt that day. That’s to be expected. After that, we never messed with each other again.”

“I’d say that’s a win.”

“...And what about you?”

“Me?” You chuckle. “Are you asking if I ever got into a fight at school? Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

Your lips form a neat line. “It was in university… when my ex and I just started dating.”

“You told me you two were just friends.”

You were sitting across from your friend, a girl whom you hadn’t spoken to since high school. You weren’t exactly close, but back then, you talked with her enough to consider her a friend. She’d ended up going to a different university in the city, so you two didn’t talk as much as much as you did. She texted you the night before, asking to have coffee and catch up as the semester was coming to an end.

“Well, we were,” you said.

“...But, you knew I liked him.”

That was true. You did. But nothing happened.

“That’s—”

“I thought we were friends.”

You frowned. “Did you tell him about how you felt?”

“...Not yet.”

“...Then, I don’t see what the problem is.”

She glared at you. “I didn’t even get a chance.”

You really didn’t want to say it, but… “If he did like you, we wouldn’t have happened.”

“A lot of drama started happening after that,” you say.

“...Do you mind if I ask why you two broke up?”

You finish the rest of the food on your plate. “We weren’t working anymore. Might be a little cliché, but we weren’t the same people anymore. We tried to make things work, but it wasn’t happening.” You glance at him. “...Do you mind if I ask what happened between you and your ex-wife?”

“Long story short… I wanted to do something different, but she wanted me to stay at my job. And… she also wanted another child when I didn’t.”

His wife came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a dress for bed. Yanqing was staying with his grandmother that weekend, leaving Jing Yuan and his wife to have some quality time together. His wife walked up and put her arms on his shoulders.

“...What're we doing tonight, Handsome?"

Jing Yuan took her wrists and put them at her side. "Getting a good night's sleep."

Her shoulders fell. "Yanqing would love a sibling, you know."

"We've talked about this. Yanqing would love a sibling? Or, would you love to give him a sibling?”

She sighed. “Don’t you want to grow our family, Jing Yuan?”

He didn’t.

“...Let’s get some sleep.”

His wife stepped in front of him when he tried to turn off the lights. “Something is bothering you. Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I did.”

She crossed her arms. “It’s about that bed and breakfast fantasy of yours, isn’t it?”

Jing Yuan hated the way she put it. Fantasy? It was like she was mocking him.

“It’s not a fantasy,” Jing Yuan said flatly.

“You have a family.” She scoffed and sat on the bed. “It’s time to come back to reality, Jing Yuan.”

“I asked if you could give me a year. If nothing happens or I’m not successful, I’ll find a new job. You agreed. But now it seems like you’re going back on your word.”

"I'm not! I just... I still don't think it's a good idea. It's not safe, Jing Yuan. Do you understand?"

"I understand the risks. That's why I'm meeting you halfway." Jing Yuan sat next to her. “You wanted a child, and I agreed.”

She turned and put her hand on his cheek. “And now we have Yanqing. He’s our everything. Don’t you want to give him more?”

“What about your word?" When she said nothing, Jing Yuan continued, "You agreed, so I already put in my resignation letter.”

“...Already?!”

“My last day is the end of the month.”

“...She was livid,” Jing Yuan says.

“I’ve been curious… What made you want to open a bed and breakfast anyway? You were a Director at an IT company… That’s… I mean… That’s a position some people can only dream of.”

“There were questionable practices that I found out about when I was promoted. I was expected to be a part of that or else I’d lose my position.”

“Yikes…”

Jing Yuan nods. “I’ve always wanted to start a business. And since I didn’t want to stay there, I wanted to take a chance.”

“...Did your wife want you to stay? Even after you found out about the shady practices?”

“I told her about what I knew, and she encouraged me to stay.” Jing Yuan looks you in the eyes. “That was when she was still working at Star Rails.”

“...You shouldn’t leave.”

Jing Yuan was sitting on the couch adjacent to his wife. He’d just finished telling her about some of the questionable practices that he recently discovered and reasoned that a company wouldn’t last if they continued with their shady ways. Of course, Jing Yuan also didn’t want to end up in the crossfire, considering he was now in management.

“At least not until you find something else,” his wife continued.

"This is an opportunity. I want to open a bed and breakfast.”

It was written all over her face. Annoyance. Frustration. Anger. Every time he brought this up, she made it clear she wasn’t happy.

“Every company has some corruption going on,” his wife finally said. “It’s normal. It’s… It’s just how it is.”

“...Is something wrong?”

His wife looked at him, and he saw her fidget. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s a hunch.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Is something happening at work?”

She sighed. “No… It’s… It’s just that the project failed.” She turned to him. “Have you… heard anything from Caelus?”

“No. Why?”

“I figured he’d talked to you.” She picked up her tea. “After the project fell through, I thought he’d tell you about it.”

“I plan on meeting him in Xianzhou next month. I’m heading back to visit.”

She looked away again. “I see.” Then, she stood and walked into the kitchen.

“I… never saw Caelus,” Jing Yuan says. You look up from your soup. “By the time I got here, he… was gone.”

Gone? As in…

“The empty lot you saw,” Jing Yuan continues. “That was where his hotel used to be.”

“...What happened?”

Jing Yuan looks down. “He took his own life.” You almost drop your spoon. “After a full investigation, they ruled out any foul play.”

It takes you a moment to process this, but you finally say, “...I’m so sorry.”

A short pause.

“A year after that, my wife and I divorced.”

“That must’ve been a huge shock of... everything to the community.”

"It was. Rumours and speculations were flying everywhere, but there were quite a few people who were convinced Star Rails had something to do with what happened to Caelus."

“...Did your wife ever bring this up?”

“No. She was just as shocked as I was when she found out what happened.” The pause and the slight narrowing of his eyes make you think Jing Yuan has something more to say. “She stopped talking to me about her work after that. Eventually, she left and found a new job.”

A short silence followed as you and Jing Yuan finished the rest of the food. You and Jing Yuan are stacking the empty plates together when you say, "...This explains why everyone seems so hostile."

You help carry the empty dishes to the kitchen. You’re standing next to Jing Yuan as he says, “This is what I wanted to tell you this morning.” After washing his hands, he looks at you. “You’re suspicious that Star Rails is hiding something. I'm not sure whether it’s related to Caelus, but I suspect there's another reason why they sent you here.”

You sigh. “In other words… things aren’t as simple as they seem.” A short silence later, you ask, “What about you? Do you think Star Rails had something to do with what happened to Caelus?”

“I do.” You look him in the eyes, a little surprised at the honesty. He holds your gaze and says, “As I said, you aren’t the first person to visit.” You get a whiff of his cologne when he steps closer. He leans down until he’s at eye level with you. “...But you’re the first to question them.”

You put a hand on the counter beside you. “...But maybe the others did, you just didn’t know it.”

“On the contrary. One of them tried to convince me to enter a partnership with them. Another tried to poach some of my employees.”

“Looks like they all failed.”

“...So, I’m trying to keep my wits about me.” Your eyes land on his lips, and your breath catches in your throat. “And it looks like you’re trying to do the same.” Your eyes meet his, and you allow him to slowly cage you in against the counter. Then, in a low voice, he asks, “Do you still think I’m pretending?”

You could’ve kissed him. You wanted to, in fact. But, instead, you slightly lean forward, your hand underneath his chin. “And how do I know I’m not falling into one of your traps? Trying to seduce me… Helping me… Saying all of these sweet things.” You dare to lean closer. “What secrets are you after?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me.”

And then he kisses you.

His lips are softer than you imagined, needier than anything you’ve ever experienced. One of your hands finds his chest while the other snakes around him. Jing Yuan pulls you close with one hand in your hair and the other on the small of your back. Slow. Sensual. The way he takes your breath away and gives it back, teasing you with the sweet caresses of his tongue until you make it clear you’re ready for more.

Seconds pass. Minutes feel like hours. When your lips finally leave his, you have no sense of time or space. Your mind’s in a daze and your eyes can’t leave his. It’s then you realize that you’re sitting on the counter, and Jing Yuan is standing between your legs. It’s a blur how or when you got into this position, but you aren’t complaining.

“I never expected a kiss like that on a first date,” you say breathlessly.

“...Would you like more?”

“What about dessert?”

He unexpectedly claims your lips again. Then, with a small smile, he says, “I already had mine.” His voice goes slightly lower. “...Although I’m satisfied, I can always go for more.”

This time, it’s you who kisses him. But you pull back before he kisses you back. “...I still want my dessert, General.”

He helps you off the counter. “How can I say no?”

◆◆◆

Wearing a tank top and shorts, Dan Feng has a towel draped over his damp hair as he enters the living room. Dan Heng and Welt are watching a movie with a bowl of popcorn on the table.

“Where’s March?” Dan Feng asks.

“In her room,” Welt answers.

As the movie goes on, Dan Feng heads upstairs and gently knocks on March’s door. When there's no response, Dan Feng tries opening the door. It’s unlocked.

“March?”

He opens the door a little wider and sees March on the bed with her laptop. She has her earphones in and Dan Feng guesses she’s watching something by how intently she’s staring at her screen. As soon as she sees him, she pulls out her earphones and pushes her laptop screen downwards.

“Did you knock?”

“Yeah,” Dan Feng deadpans. “What are you doing up here? We’re watching a movie.”

“...I know. I said I didn’t want to join.”

“Why?”

March puts her laptop aside. “Why are you suddenly so curious?”

Dan Feng enters her room and sits in an empty chair. “Why are you suddenly so defensive?”

“Me? Defensive?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re jealous that your man, Jing Yuan, is going on a real date.” March throws a pillow at him, but Dan Feng catches it with ease. “Did I hit the mark?”

“I wish I had that much time on my hands to be concerned about his love life,” she deadpans.

“Then, what’s wrong?” Dan Feng tosses the pillow on the bed. “It’s not like you to miss out on movie night wherever we are.”

“I’m… I’ve been thinking about things.”

“Really? Shocking.” March shoots him a look, and Dan Feng returns it with a smile. “What about?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

Dan Feng scoots the chair a little closer. “Seriously, March. What’s up?”

March gives him another look but sighs in defeat. “My old manager contacted me a few days ago.”

“...What did he want?”

“...He asked if I had any interest in coming back to the entertainment scene.”

Dan Feng narrows his eyes. “Why would he suddenly contact you?”

“I asked him the same question,” March says quietly. “Apparently, they’re creating an idol group.”

“And he wants you to be a part of it?”

“He said I fit with the image.”

Dan Feng crosses one leg over the other. “Now, that’s suspicious. Surely, there are other girls to pick from.” When March stays silent, Dan Feng leans closer. “...You’re thinking of doing it?”

“...You mean to become an idol? Not… exactly. But, I’ve been thinking of going back.”

“I’m sure you have your reasons, but you’d be going back to the same industry that destroyed you.”

March sighs. “Let’s not talk about it.”

“Listen…” She turns to Dan Feng as he awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “You know we’d want you to be happy”—he looks at her—“with whatever decision you make. We’re on your side.”

March holds his gaze before chuckling. Then, she puts Dan Feng in a headlock and says, “Trying to act cool, are you?”

“What?” Dan Feng gently pushes her away. Then, with a small huff, he stands and turns away. “That is the last time I'm trying to make you feel better.”

She laughs and gets off the bed. “Hey.” The serious tone makes Dan Feng turn to look at her. “...I appreciate it.”

Dan Feng puts a hand inside his pocket. “C’mon. Let’s go before they eat all the popcorn.”

◆◆◆

You’re looking at the paintings and photos in Jing Yuan’s living room as the man went to change. Halfway through having dessert, you’d somehow flustered him and the cream ended up on his shirt and pants.

There are quite a few photos of him and Yanqing. In one of them, Yanqing is wearing a soccer jersey and Jing Yuan has his arm around him while they’re smiling at the camera. Another is one of him and Yanqing camping at a lake. There are also photos with Blade, Luocha, and the other friends you’ve met at Xianzhou. However, there are two people who you don’t recognize: a man and a woman who can pass as twins.

They’re wearing similar clothing, and there’s a photo of them with Yanqing when he was very young. You’re about to look closer when a phone goes off. It’s not yours, and you quickly realize it’s Jing Yuan that’s on the living room table. You ignore it, but when it continues and doesn’t stop, you can’t help but be curious who it is that seems desperate to get a hold of him. Eventually, you walk over and glance at the name on the screen.

It’s a woman’s name.

Then, you hear footsteps, and you turn and see Jing Yuan in a white and brown sweater and black pants coming down the stairs. “Is someone calling?” he asks.

“Yeah… They seem pretty persistent.” Jing Yuan walks over and picks up his phone from the table. His expression visibly changes, so you ask, “Who is it?”

After a small sigh, he says, “It’s my ex-wife.”

Chapter 10

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#jingyuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x y/n #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #honkai jing yuan

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avatarmerida · 2 years

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Wallflowers

For the first day of @huntlowweek Prompt: Date

(In case it’s not clear, this is prior to them meeting in canon and before Luz comes to the demon realm)

Date (noun): a social engagement between two persons that often has a romantic character

———

Hunter didn’t want to go.

“Why should I waste my time conversing with stupid children? I have more important things to be doing!” He insisted as Darius carefully laid out the outfit he had selected for him on his bed.

“Little prince, I hate to be the barrier of bad new but you are a ‘stupid children,’” Darius sighed as he inspected the suit for lint. “These are your peers.”

“No, they’re students,” griped Hunter, slouching in his chair. “All they do is gossip and read magazines or whatever. I have nothing in common with them.”

“You’ve never even spoken to witches your own age, how could you possibly know that?”

“Because I just do, okay?” He whined. “The Titan has big plans for me and I’m pretty sure they don’t involve drinking warm punch surrounded by tacky streamers a-and photo booths.”

“Look, I was a lot like you when I was your age,” began Darius “I too once thought I was above it all, and to be honest I was and still am, but I can’t deny the importance of attempting to socialize. The children at this event will be joining covens soon enough, and next year you’ll be taking Lillith’s place at Con con seeking out recruits for the Emperor. You don’t want to seem out of touch and embarrass the Emperor’s Coven, do you?”

“Of course not,” Hunter said, hanging his head.

“Good, now I’ll make you a deal: all you have to do is stay at the party for one hour and talk to at least one person and then you can leave.”

“What if there’s not anyone there worth talking to?”

“Well how can you hope to know if you don’t try?” Darius retorted smugly. “Now get changed, I won’t have the Golden Guard’s first social appearance be tarnished by you arriving in the same clothes you’ve been wearing all day.”

“What’s wrong with the clothes I wear?”

“Now that’s a conversation for a later time, we can’t have you being late.”

———

Willow REALLY didn’t want to go.

“You were invited sweetie, it would be rude not to go,” said Gilbert.

“But dad no one wants me there!” Willow insisted.

“Well then why would they invite you?” asked Harvey.

“They invite the whole school, but Gus can’t go this year and without him I’ll have no one to talk to!”

“Well, maybe you’ll meet a new student, have a fresh start,” offered Gilbert. “Besides, you look so wonderful in your new dress it would be a shame if no one got to see you in it.”

“And hiding never accomplished anything sweetpea,” added his husband. “Do you really want to start the new school year shut up in your room?”

“But dad-!”

“Tell you what honey, stay for one hour. If after an hour you’re not having even a little bit of fun, we’ll come pick you up and get eye-scream, no questions asked.”

“Okay, fine,” Willow sighed as she headed upstairs to start getting ready. “But I’m telling you, no one is gonna wanna talk to me.”

———

The Blight manor was a sight to behold. They held the lavish event every year; celebrating the start of the school year and allowing everyone at Hexside to share their summer stories and make sure they were in an established clique for the new semester. It was second only to Grom in popularity, but the Blights elected to use abominations in place of chaperones so in terms of drama it was second to none.

Every year there was a new theme, a tradition started by Ed and Em who used it as a chance to show off their unmatched ability to commit to a bit. Last year had been a black and white gala where they had arrived dressed as chess pieces (Emira the black nigh, Edric the white, and Amity the board) and the year before that the theme had simply been ‘glitter’ and the clean up for the glitter bombs the twins placed nearly everywhere was barely finished in time for the following party. Which brings us to this year’s theme: a masquerade ball.

Hunter appreciated the ability to leave his mask on without it bringing him too much attention. The outfit Darius had selected for him did help him blend in, black pants with a signature golden colored vest and matching tie from his personal collection. He wore one of his satin white shirts and a new pair of gloves, an addition a Hunter had insisted upon. Hunter had wanted a cape, but Darius had deemed it “overkill” and they had settled on a black suit jacket that he draped on his shoulders for the same effect. He lingered outside the door as long as he could, hoping to eat away at his time, but soon people starting asking him where to leave their coats and he retreated inside to find another place to hide. He walked around, picking up pieces of conversations to try and convince Darius he had made an effort to engage. But it was just as he expected: pointless gossip with nothing of value.

He watched as everyone else walked around trying to guess who was behind the mask and they revealed themselves with little hesitation. Hunter couldn’t help but feel it defeated the point of wearing a mask. He noticed though, that he was the only one who elected to cover the entirety of his face as the rest of the attendees donned masks that merely covered their eyes.

He stood at the punch bowl, relatively thirsty but then realized he would have to remove his mask to drink from the cup he had filled. He didn’t want to do that, he knew people were always trying to see his face and he wanted to keep his anonymity. So he just stood at the table and held his punch awkwardly, continuing counting down the hour.

“Oh, I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” said a small voice suddenly from beside him. “One of the Blight twins usually spikes the punch by now.”

“They put spikes in it?!” He said, looking at the contents of the cup closer.

“No, no,” the girl laughed. “They usually put a truth potion in it when no ones looking to cause drama; everyone starts confessing to crushes or confronting people or admitting embarrassing secrets. One year they didn’t spike it but told everyone that they did, it was chaos.”

Hunter looked at the girl a bit closer, she wore a simple emerald green dress with puffy sleeves that hung off her shoulders and a skirt that fell just past her knees and poofed out with a light yellow petticoat underneath it. It complimented the light green of her eyes that shined even behind her mask which she had decorated with intricate vines and tiny yellow flowers. Her short black hair had a gentle curl to it and was pinned back by a yellow hair clip shaped like a flower. She was pretty, he would do no more than think and she was the only one to approach him... casually. He knew the rest of the party was abuzz with whispers about him, he was used to whispers, but now they made him feel even more out of place. No one stood near him too long or complimented the outfit Darius had selected or asked him how he was. It was clear he came alone and knew no one there, but no one sought to change that. He suspected one of the Blight children would see him off when the time came, for appearances, but no one could be convinced to sacrifice a whole evening to him.

But then, out of nowhere, she came and lingered at his side and made him feel included for a brief moment. And a Hunter didn’t hate it.

“So... you’ve been to a lot of these things then, huh?”

“Yeah I guess,” she sighed. “It’s kind of a tradition, but I usually end up leaving early ever since...”

“Ever since... what?”

“Well, uh I used to come with my friend and we would hang out and dance but then she... found better friends.”

“Well, it seems like her loss, not yours,” said Hunter, dumping his punch back into the bowl. “You don’t seem... entirely unpleasant.”

“Thank you?” Willow laughed. “Well, um I can leave you alone if you want. I’m sure you probably wanna get back to your friends.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said. But some part of him didn’t want her to leave. “Well I would... but it’s my first time at one of these and my friends... aren’t here yet.”

“Oh, well maybe I can show you around until they get here,” offered Willow. “If you want.”

“I think...I’d like that,” said Hunter. “You wouldn’t happen to know where to get an unspikey beverage would you? My throat is a little dry.”

“I think I can arrange something,” she said. “But it might be hard for you to drink with that kind of mask. If you want, I can get you a more beverage friendly option.”

Willow made a circle with her finger to summon a golden flower into her hand, the petals wide and long each with a hole in the middle. She carefully folded the petals so the holes lined up and used a vine to make a strap and hold it all together as she presented it to him. “Here, try this.”

“Is that a wallflower?” he asked.

“What?”

“My... guardian said that I should avoid being a wallflower at a social event,” he said. “It’s a lovely flower but I’m just not familiar with it so I just wanted to make sure-.”

“Oh, no it’s not,” said Willow, understanding. “Uh, a wall flower is like a person who doesn’t really participate a party I guess. But personally I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being one.”

“Oh, I see,” he said as he took it, not fully understanding the definition but trusting her authority as she seemed like an expert in everything the term contained. He wasn’t used to receiving gifts without strings attached, and he looked at her face to see if there was a condition coming. But she just looked happy to help him. He quickly ducked down as he made the switch, noticing the pleasant smell her gift emitted and tucked his Golden Guard mask into the pocket of his coat. He rose to show her the updated feature. “Well, how does it look?”

“Hmm,” she said standing closer to see better. It was dim and a tad blurry but Willow couldn’t help but notice he had a very nice jawline. He smiled nervously at her closeness and she thought he had a charming smile, the gap in his teeth added a touch of character Willow found endearing. She noticed he seemed rathe taken back by her proximity and chuckled as she took a step back. “Sorry, I usually wear glasses but there wasn’t a good way to wear them with the mask so I’m a liiiittle blind.”

“Oh, well... you can wear my original mask if you want,” he said before he realized what he was saying. “It’s a little roomier and should let you wear your glasses with it. But it’s actually kind of hard to see out of normally and it might be kind of sweaty... sorry that’s probably weird.”

“That’s not weird,” she laughed. “That’s sweet of you to offer, thank you. I should be okay, I just might need a little help showing you to the kitchen since it’s kind of dark in here.”

“Well, I would be honored to be your guide,” he offered, offering his arm to her in a very noble manner.

“Sure, I mean if you’re sure...”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well... you know how I said my friend got better friends?”

He did remember and he didn’t believe her. “Yeah?”

“Well, this is her party,” admitted Willow. “Ever since we... grew apart, my status at school hasn’t been the best. I’m only here because my dads made me come. I usually don’t walk around too much or do anything to draw attention to myself. If you’re looking to avoid wallflowers, I’m kind of the textbook definition. If people saw you hanging out with me it would ruin your reputation at Hexside before it even started.”

“Well... everyone is wearing masks, how could they even tell it’s you?”

“That’s... actually a really good point,” she said with a smile as she took his arm. “Okay then, why not?”

She guided him to the kitchen and they snuck him a glass of water, the staff paying them no mind as they worked on replenishing the plates. Refreshed, Hunter allowed the girl to lead him around the vast room and Hunter narrated everything he saw to Willow who did her best to explain the meaning.

“... and now there’s a few people in the middle of the room dancing but they’re not on beat at all,” he said, his tone flat as though he was doing his normal status report. “The song is upbeat but they’re dancing fairly slow? It’s... weird.”

“Oh, they do that every year,” laughed Willow. “They’re on the bard track and Amity never lets the band play their requests so that’s their way of like protesting I guess. It’s nice though, it makes me feel less self conscious about my own dancing.”

“Oh, uh... did you wanna dance?”

“Oh, no!” laughed Willow. “I just meant like, if I did. Nothing draws more attention than dancing by yourself.”

“But you’re not by yourself.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Willow, shyly. “Would you... wanna dance with me?”

Hunter wasn’t sure if she was asking him or if she was asking him if he was asking but regardless, as he looked around the room it was clear that dancing was one of the events social norms. In his report to Darius, surely having a detailed first hand account of dancing would convince him he had competed the evening successfully. And it didn’t seem all that hard.

“Sure,” he said, knowing little about dancing except that it required music. The song changed to a slower song and the rebel bards adjusted accordingly, jumping wildly now as everyone else had been doing prior. Hunter looked around and saw the majority seemed to be doing what he assumed to be the appropriate motions to the song and finding a partner to sway with. It hardly seemed like ‘dancing’ and more like ‘barely moving’ but who was he to argue? “I mean, we don’t want to be wallflowers do we? Am I using that word right?”

“Yeah,” she giggled.

“So um... is this okay?” Hunter asked as he placed his hand on the girl’s waist as the taller person seemed to be doing in all the pairs that surrounded him.

“Oh, uh yeah,” she said as she stepped closer so he could place his other hand to her side as well. She hesitated for a moment and then brought her arms up towards his neck, hovering for a second before she rested them on his chest. “Is this okay?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” he said trying to sound casual and confident when for some reason he felt dizzy. He didn’t know where to look. He felt looking away would be rude but looking into her eyes seemed... scary but in a good way and he didn’t know why exactly. She looked down at their feet, as though she was concentrating and Hunter took the opportunity to look at her. He wondered how so many people here could think so little of her when she was so witty and wonderful. True, perhaps she was on her best behavior seeing as she was with the Golden Guard, but apart of him hoped his status would rub off on her just a little and people would think twice before treating her unkindly.

“This is nice,” she said quietly after awhile.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Ya know, I really didn’t wanna come tonight but I’m actually having a really nice time with you.”

“Uh, yeah me too.” Hunter said, surprised that he meant it. She was nice to talk to and even the silences with her seemed filed with... something.

“Sorry I’ve been hogging you all night,” she said sheepishly. “I’m sure your friends must be here by now and are wondering where you are.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” he said, almost forgetting it was a part of his cover story. “I think I’d rather spend the rest of the night with you anyway.”

“Oh,” said Willow praying her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “I’d like that too. I guess this night wasn’t a total waste after all.”

“Actually, would you maybe... wanna see each other again?”

“What?”

“Uh never mind it’s stupid,” Hunter quickly sputtered, averting his eyes to the ground in embarrassment. “I mean I’m busy and you’re probably busy too and it’s not like-.”

“Wait, hey!” she said, placing her hand on his cheek to turn his eyes back to her. “I didn’t mean ‘no,’ I just didn’t hear what you said. It’s kinda loud in here.”

“Oh, yeah you’re right,” he said, breathing a little easier. “Here, why don’t we go outside?”

Willow instinctively grabbed back onto his arm as Hunter lead her onto the balcony. The music faded behind them but could still be faintly heard as it mixed with the gentle sound of the wind blowing.

“Ah, much better,” sighed Willow as she rested her elbows on the ledge, squinting at the night sky. As blurry as it was, she could tell it was a beautiful night and the sky was full of stars.

Hunter also thought it was a beautiful night, but for different reasons.

“So how’re you liking your first Blight Bash?” Willow asked brightly.

“Ew, is that seriously what they call it?” He asked.

“Yeah, but I think their energy goes more into the theme than the name,” she laughed. “I swear, it gets bigger and fancier every year. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Emperor himself shows up to one eventually. I mean, I heard the Golden Guard was supposed to come this year.” Hunter turned to her, rightfully surprised thinking that she was must joking or doing a bit. But no, she truthfully had no idea she had spent the whole night with the Golden Guard. How? She had seen his mask when he-

But she hadn’t seen his mask. Because she couldn’t see anything without her glasses. He was a blur to her, not a member of the Emperor’s coven or an authority figure, but a blur of a boy who she thought was new to her school. She wasn’t treating him nicely out of fear or respect for his status, she was testing him nicely because she was nice.

“Oh wow,” said Hunter, trying to not to show his reaction in his voice. “Is that so? That would be... good?” How did she feel about the idea?

“I’m sure Mrs. Blight would love the photo op,” she said with a light chuckle. “And I bet everybody would wanna dance with him.”

She’d lose that bet. “And why is that?”

“Well, I dunno, he’s kind of a like a prince isn’t he?” Said Willow, rocking on her heels. “It would be kinda like a fairy tale, I bet he’s very polite and he’d probably get overwhelmed with all the dance requests.”

“You don’t think he’s... scary?”

“Well, I’ve never met him but I think he’s probably more mysterious than scary,” she said. “This would be the perfect theme for him though, because between you and me I don’t think he wears the mask because he’s unattractive if ya now what I mean.” Willow grinned, nudging his ribs with her elbow.

Hunter wished he was wearing his full mask as he could feel his face getting warm in response to the indirect compliment. Thank the Titan she couldn’t see him very well. “I, uh, think I do. Ha.”!

“I bet he’d probably be working thought huh? He probably wouldn’t get a chance to have much fun being on the clock.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Hunter as he watched her look out at the night sky, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I didn’t think I was gonna have fun and then I met you. Stranger things have happened.”

“Thanks,” she said with a smile, enjoying his company as well. But Willow had learned the hard way how fleeting friendship could be. “Hey, um, it’s okay if you don’t talk to me when school starts, by the way. I mean, like I would understand. No hard feelings or anything.”

“Why wouldn’t I talk to you? I like talking to you.” Hunter said. “I’ll even drink the spikey punch and say it again if you don’t believe me.”

“Well it’s just... I know how hard it can be, trying to fit in.” Willow said. “And you’re really nice and cool and I would hate if I was the reason people didn’t see that.”

“Well if they can’t see those things in you then there’s no way they could see them in me,” he said so softly she almost didn’t hear it. But she did. “And frankly, I wouldn’t give much value to the opinion of people who get fooled into drinking contaminated punch every year.”

“You’re funny.” She said with an airy laugh that made Hunter’s chest feel tight.

“Me?” he asked, certain he had misheard her.

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh and Hunter thought she was going to add ‘looking’ at the end as Kikimora often did, but she didn’t. Hunter wondered what she would think of how he looked. He wondered why he cared.

“So, what do you like to-.”

He was interrupted by a sound from her pocket. She looked down as saw it was her scroll receiving a call. “Oh, sorry it’s my dads,” she said, realizing it had been an hour and they were calling to check on her. “I think they’re here to pick me up. Let me see what’s up, I’ll be right back.”

As she stepped away to have some privacy, Hunter realized his hour was up as well and saw Darius approaching below to pick him up. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself but he also didn’t know how to say goodbye to her. He knew he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to say that he actually wouldn’t see her at school and he didn’t know how to say why. He didn’t want to lie again or possibly embarrass her with the truth. He didn’t want to see her peridot eyes lose their light so did the only thing he could think to do and teleported away.

“So they’re on their way to come get me and we’re going out for eye scream and they said you could come if you wanted to, no pressure it could be fun, but it’s so funny when I told them about you I realized I never asked you your-.” Willow returned back to their spot, placing her scroll back in her pocket and looked up to find her escort had vanished. “-name.”

On the railing, he had left the flower mask she had crafted him, carefully balanced so she would find it and it would not fall.

———

“So did you have an absolutely horrid time, little prince?” Darius asked with candor as he met Hunter outside, boarding him into the ship.

“It actually wasn’t that bad,” Hunter said faintly as he passed him.

Darius blinked, genuinely surprised by Hunter’s lack of sarcasm. “So, did you meet anyone worthy of your time?”

“I think... I did.” He said, looking down into his hand as delicately held the small yellow flower that he had picked off the ground as he left. It had fallen from her hair at some point and Hunter had picked it up, knowing that returning it to her would the perfect excuse to see her again. A part of him secretly hoped she had dropped in on purpose.

“And what’s that you have there?”

“Um it’s nothing,” he said, quickly putting the trinket in his pocket. “It’s just uh, a flower that I found that I wanted to hold onto.”

#huntlow #huntlow week #@huntlowweek #huntlowweek #huntlowweek2022 #winter toh #toh #willow park #Hunter toh

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parcequecestnotreprojeeeet · 2 years

Note

Hi. It’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. I’m so glad everyone has enjoyed the series so far. I’ve been really nervous about it (as I’m sure you could tell by some of my comments). So reading everyone’s lovely comments has meant the world. On a personal note, writing these fics has been such a joyful outlet for me (this has been a very stressful period of my life, not to get too personal, ha ha) and so I’m so glad that something that has meant a lot to me has brought some of that same joy to some of you. I feel like I am repeating myself too, but thank you EMT for all your support and everything you do for this little community you’ve created. ❤️

Couple of quick things. First, in response to the Anon who asked about Laurence’s separation, I have no clue what caused it. That’s why I gave the disclaimer that I wasn’t implying he was the bad guy (sometimes no matter how hard both people try it just doesn’t work out), but rather, I feel like Brigitte and Emmanuel would immediately side with their kids against anyone, no matter what. Hence him threatening to send the armed forces after him. Ha ha.

Second, since there seems to be some popular demand for more (especially from you EMT), I have come up with one final installment with all three of them and Emmanuel. (That will have to wait a bit though, since I have something inspired by the upcoming State Visit I’ll be submitting first). I will include the kids more in pieces as I go (like I said, I have a Christmas story coming up, and it features them) but I probably won’t write anymore focused on them one-on-one like this. Although never say never. If someone has a specific story idea they’d want to see, I’d be happy to try and write it.

So this is Tiphaine. Tiphaine’s is based on a quote attributed to Brigitte about the fact that she and Emmanuel were both in the delivery room when her daughters had their babies. (Again. Don’t know if it’s true, but it’s what inspired this). Hope everyone enjoys this next one.

III. Tiphaine

While his wife and his son-in-law stepped out after the nurse to follow the sweet, innocent newborn as she underwent her first tests, he stayed behind with the exhausted new mother, slowly walking over to gently press a kiss to her forehead.

“You did great. I’m so proud of you,” he told her, his eyes still shining from the tears he isn’t afraid to admit he shed only a few minutes ago when he first set eyes on his beautiful new granddaughter for the first time.

“Thank you, but shouldn’t you be with everyone else? Don’t you want to see them get her footprint, or whatever it is they do?”

“Someone needs to stay with you.”

“I’d be fine,” she protested slightly, the strength of her argument under cut by her yawn.

Raising his eyebrow a little at that he replied, “Sure you would. You’re very good at taking care of yourself. But it doesn’t mean that there aren’t those of us who want to take care of you too.”

“How do you say no to that?” She asked, smiling up at him, fighting the need for sleep until she could see her daughter again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was just hit by a train. But happy. Blissfully happy, I don’t think I have the words to describe it.”

“You want to try?”

“I don’t know. It’s like suddenly there’s this whole extra chamber of my heart that I never knew existed. I never knew I could love someone so much -“

“Being a parent is the most amazing thing,” he replied, a little wistfulness in his voice.

“Do you ever regret it?” She asked, finally putting into words a question that had often lingered at the back of her mind.

“Regret what?”

“Not having children.”

“I do have children,” he answered seriously.

“I meant biological children,” the eye roll almost audible.

“No.” He answered firmly, quickly.

“Really?”

“Do I sometimes think about what it would be to have had a little girl running around that was a perfect mix between your mother and me or a little boy with her smile and my nose? Sure. But as I’ve always said, there’s more than one kind of family. And just because ours isn’t traditional doesn’t mean there is any less love in it. In fact, I would be willing to bet there’s more love in this family than there is in a lot of traditional families. In fact, I can name a few off the top of my head who certainly meet that criteria.

“I have children. Children by love, not by blood, sure, but I know that love is what makes a family. The way that you’re feeling right now? That feeling you’re describing of your heart physically growing two sizes? That’s exactly what I felt the first time you hugged me. In every single way that matters you are my daughter, just like your sister, and just like your brother is my son.”

“You’re going to make me cry.”

“That would be the hormones.”

She let out a soft, wet chuckle at that. “They don’t help, but no, it’s you.” She reached out to grab his hand in hers, squeezing lightly, aware it might be hurting from her iron grip less than an hour earlier, “for what it’s worth, you are my second father.”

“It’s worth an awful lot.”

Neither of them noticed through the little moment they were sharing that their missing partners had now returned, carrying a happy, sleeping bundle with them.

“Someone’s back to see her maman,” Brigitte said softly to pop the bubble, drawing the attention towards them, and gently depositing the little one safely into Tiphaine’s arms. Letting her daughter have a moment with her newborn and her partner, she walked over to Emmanuel, whispering, “are you ok? Things looked pretty intense when we walked in.”

“I’m more than ok, chérie,” he consoled her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and slipping his hand into hers.

“Our baby girl is all grown up,” Brigitte sighed.

“You raised a remarkable woman.”

“We raised,” she corrected softly, squeezing the hand she was holding in emphasis.

He just smiled.

Hellooooo fanfic anon #2! ❤️

You really have nothing to worry about. This series with the kids were simply amazing and I cannot thank you enough ❤️

I feel you. Not the easiest of times for me either but while reading and talking to you guys, it distracts my mind and warms my heart ❤️

Oh thank you! Thank you, for giving us one last piece with Emmanuel and the kids! I will wait the time that it takes and I have no doubts that it will be worth it! 😍

Just how sweet of Emmanuel to stay behind with Tiphaine and waiting to take care of her 🥺🥰

The all conversation about Emmanuel not having his own biological kids, fitted so well in here. It gave me a mixed of feelings (because in reality it makes me feel like that too) but absolutely loved the words you wrote about it. Yes. I think that’s exactly how he feels. He loves them as his own family and they love him back as part of their own family too 🤧🥰😍

Thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #fanfic anon 2

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after-witch · 2 years

Note

since the smiling man really loves food, could we please get him with a baker reader? possibly one with a magical bakery of sorts

Title: Even Doubt Can Be Delicious [Smiling Man x Reader]

Synopsis: You run the most popular bakery in town. It’s not unusual for you to get regulars. Seth, your newest regular, quickly becomes your favorite... but is there more to him and his smiles than meets the eye?

Word count: 5297

notes: yandere-ish themes, mentions of fertility

“I’m telling you, the stuff here is like, magical.”

The tail-end of the conversation you hear as a pair of friends enters your bakery is not all that surprising, though the compliment still gives you a rush.

Now, you wouldn’t call your baked goods magical. But you would call them delicious. Delicious enough that you have the most successful bakery in town, that you never have to worry about paying your bills, and that you have a host of regulars who stop in every day to buy the goodies you carefully craft every morning.

The next customer who comes in after the pair of friends is not one of those regulars. He’s someone you’ve never seen before, in fact.

A young man, maybe about your age, with fair hair and striking light eyes that demand notice even from across the room. He’s... cute.

You don’t really care about that, though, and your gaze snatches away from him as quickly as it landed. You have customers to attend to, after all.

When it’s finally his turn at the register, you can see he’s having difficulty deciding. He’s scanning your menus, scanning the cases, even glancing around to see what everyone else has ordered. You’re about to offer him a suggestion, when he takes a step back and gestures to the woman behind him , who is carrying a heavy looking backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Why don’t you go ahead,” he says. “I still haven’t decided.”

You decide in that moment that you think you’ll like this new customer.

When he finally comes up to the register, a smile on his face, you can’t help but smile back at him.

“What can I get for you?”

His eyes are piercing. You think, briefly, that he must never want for romantic partners. And he’d be great at sealing business deals.

“I think I’ll try a piece of your pistachio cake, please. And one of your cherry chocolate cupcakes. Everyone seems to be ordering those.”

You beam. “They’re a specialty! I get the cherries from a local farm, and the pistachio cake is an old family recipe.”

You hustle and bustle and pack up his order to go, just like he requested. You’re a bit disappointed that you won’t get to see him take that first bite--it’s a bit of an indulgence for you to watch new customers and see how they react. So far, no one has ever had anything bad to say… except, sometimes, to complain about how much your treats have added to their waistline.

The young man comes back the next day. It doesn’t surprise you. Maybe it wasn’t humble to think things like that, but your bakery had no shortage of people who came back day after day to indulge themselves in your cakes and cookies and other baked goods. It was simply that popular. It was simply that good.

This time, however, he sits down on the table and you watch him out of the corner of your eye to see how he likes it. He ordered a fudge brownie, a black coffee (to which he added several little containers of creamer and a rather hefty lump of sugar) and a slice of honey crepe cake. You’re ringing up a customer when he takes a bite of the crepe cake, and you lip quirks up at the side when you see his reaction. He closes his eyes. He chews slowly. He savors.

It makes you feel good, to see people enjoy your food. Why shouldn’t it?

He comes back again and again, and before you know it, you consider him one of your regulars. Eventually, you ask his name, a habit you stick to for anyone that comes in every day or just about. His name is Seth, and he’s staying in town for a while on a work project. He has a sweet tooth, he tells you once, and you can believe it by the way he savors each bite of your food every time he stops in.

And then comes a day when you're--oddly, but not impossibly--alone in the bakery together for the first time.

“It’s quiet in here,” he remarks from his place at one of the tables, a half-finished piece of cake on his plate. He seems surprised. He came in later this morning, so the morning rush was now over, and it was one of those strange lulls in the day when you rarely got any customers.

You smile from behind the counter, where you’re simultaneously rearranging a case, planning on what items you should make more of tomorrow based on today’s sales, wiping off from stray crumbs that found their way onto the glass, and debating what to pick up for dinner on the way home.

“Right?” You shut the case and wipe your fingers on your apron. “Definitely a lot quieter than it is in the morning.” You shrug easily. “But I can’t exactly complain about that, can I?”

You see him smile from behind his coffee cup as he takes a sip. You wonder how much sugar he put in this time, and then shake the thought away. You found yourself wondering a little too much about what he ate, and why he chose the treats he did, and sometimes you even felt a little twinge of disappointment when he simply took his order to go instead of sitting in. You shouldn’t wonder those things, or feel those things, and so you try to shake them off.

He’s just another customer. That’s all.

So you give him a little smile and head over to the nearby tables where people have left their plates and napkins and--you cringe--a child’s bandaid.

“Why did you open this bakery?”

It’s a sudden question. It doesn’t feel intrusive, the way it might have with a different customer. Somehow, Seth knows just the right way to ask things so that they don’t seem rude or imposing. It feels like you’ve known him for years, even though it’s only been a few weeks at most.

“Well,” you say, dropping some collected trash in the bin. “I love baking. Obviously.” He makes a low noise at that, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. “But…” You stick your hands in the pocket of your apron. “More than that, I love sharing with others. Sharing what I bake, what I create... it’s like sharing a piece of myself every time.” You shrug. “Sorry, that sounds kind of weird, I guess.”

“Not at all.”

You look at him, then, and you’re overwhelmed with the sensation that you really do like being in his company. His smile is warm. His gaze is understanding. Above all, his presence feels familiar. Like you’re old friends.

Yet there’s something else too, something on the edge of your inner knowledge that you can’t quite pinpoint. It makes you feel like you’ll get goosebumps.

Isn’t that strange?

Unusually enough, you find yourself alone with him in the bakery more and more often. He used to come in in the morning, with the hustle and bustle of the morning commute, but lately he comes in just before your lunchtime. Which is, of course, after the actual lunch rush of office workers ordering in trays of sweets for their post-lunch meetings.

Of course, being alone would be awkward if you were totally silent, so you talk. And he talks. You talk about books and movies--he’s woefully behind on seeing many of the classics, you tell him--and other little things. What cakes you’ll be making next week. What part of town he enjoys taking walks in. What your plans are for the future.

You don’t mind it. It’s nice to talk to someone now and then, you don’t really get much time for conversation when you’re running a busy bakery. One day, you’re about to close for lunch, gesturing for him to walk ahead of you so that you can lock the door… when it starts to rain. Suddenly. A huge squall, seemingly out of nowhere. You jerk back from the door and then laugh at yourself. Who would get so startled by a little rain?

You look back at Seth, and realize that neither of you have any umbrellas.

“Guess we’re stuck inside,” you say.

“I suppose,” he answers, peering around you. You think he might just go outside anyway, but then he sits back down at his table, which he’d just cleared off for you. Another reason why he’s slowly becoming your favorite customer.

“Do you mind if I eat lunch here?” You ask. You normally went to the local park and ate your packed lunch on the benches. But you’d rather not eat a sandwich soaked and soggy with rainwater.

“Not at all,” he replies, in his charming way. If there was one word you could use to describe Seth, it was that: charming. You’re about to take a seat at another table, but he smiles at you and you sit down across from him. It would be rather strange to sit at a completely new table while he sat there watching you eat in silence .

The conversation is banal enough at first. You talk about the sudden rain squall. And how surprising it was, especially for the season. You ask him how his day has been.

“Unorthodox,” he says, and you’re about to ask him to elaborate when he suddenly leans down a little on his elbow, cupping his chin in his hand.

“I have been wondering something.”

You chew a bite of your sandwich. “Oh?” You ask, covering your mouth with one hand. “What?”

“What is your secret?”

You make a little noise around your bite, then finish chewing so that you’re not showing off masticated ham, cheese and bread.

“Secret?”

He chuckles, and you feel a little flutter in your stomach that you push down. It’s not right to feel things like that about Seth. That doesn’t mean you don’t feel them, though. Something about him is so inviting and calming, especially right now, in the quiet bakery with nothing but a soft drizzle for background noise.

“The secret to your success. The success of the bakery, of course.”

“Ohhh,” you say, and you get another nibble of your sandwich before you decide to answer.

“If you believe the locals,” you begin, voice laced with just a dash of bitterness. “I’m a witch.”

You expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead he merely raises his eyebrows a little.

“Are you?” His lips are pressed together, and his expression is unusually somber. You realize, suddenly, that his question is entirely serious.

And then you laugh, grinning, baring your teeth in all their I-hope-there’s-no-sandwich-bits-in-them glory.

“No! Of course not.” You fiddle with the wrapper of your sandwich, tucking it back into your lunchbag to take care of later. If anything, Seth’s expression looks disappointed. Like he was expecting you to confess to being some sort of bakery witch, and you threw him for a loop with your easy denial. Maybe he’d heard the local gossip and found the reality wanting.

“But,” you add, after a few moments of pause, and you can’t help grinning and shooting him a mischievous look. “I do have a secret ingredient.”

Seth smiles, just a little, just a crack.

“I take it that the secret ingredient isn’t a magic potion that makes customers fall in love with your cupcakes.”

You scoff, laughing, and shake your head.

“It’s love.”

He regards you thoughtfully. It’s a cliché, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, you feel like he’s taking your answer just as seriously as his question about your alleged dabbling in witchcraft.

“I opened the bakery because of my boyfriend,” you continue, clarifying the details. You see his expression fall, just a little, before it smooths itself out. “I would sell cupcakes online or take orders from mom’s looking for kid’s birthday cakes, things like that. And one day, I realized that he was the love of my life, and I wanted to really settle down in this town with him and… well.” You gesture to the bakery. “He supported me the whole way. He even helped me get the loan for this place, and I’ve been baking here ever since.”

You smile, fondly. “I guess you could say he made my dreams come true.”

The rain seems to let up as your conversation wanes. He’s gone quieter than he was before. There’s something a bit disappointed in him, a little sour. Maybe he was hoping for a more exciting answer.

Maybe he was hoping you were single, a voice inside you says, and you mentally hush it. But, as you give Seth a wave that he returns rather somberly, you wonder if that voice wasn’t on the right track.

You don’t see Seth the next day. Or the next. It’s strange, at firs. Until it isn’t. Regulars come and go, after all. Maybe he moved. Maybe his doctor told him to take it easy on the sweets. Maybe that last conversation proved your little voice right, and he was simply trying to ask you out on a date, and left, dejected, when he realized you were seeing someone.

It doesn’t matter. Life changes.

Though not always for the better.

The day your boyfriend breaks up with you, you feel like the ground might cave in underneath you. No, you feel like it should cave in, like you want it to cave in. You want to be swallowed whole until you’re eating dirt, drowning in it, buried in the ground where you can’t feel anything but suffocation.

That tense feeling doesn’t last. But the pain continues. The sorrow continues. Especially when he seems someone else. Especially when she…you don’t want to think about that, though. Never again.

And little by little, other things change, too. You begin to lose some regulars. You start getting complaints about the food. Cakes that are stale, cupcakes that are underdone, and even a brownie with a piece of foil stuck in the middle. You can’t blame people for complaining. Your heart just isn’t in it anymore.

Maybe love was a magical ingredient after all, and now that yours was gone, you had nothing to put into your treats but sorrow and self pity.

Sorrow and self pity don’t pay the bills. And neither does a bakery that’s losing customers by the day. Eventually, it’s too much, and you’re forced to make the toughest decision of your life. You have to close. Some customers return for that last week, bittersweet smiles and cooing sounds coming out of their mouth. You don’t really care. You know the cakes they buy out of pity will probably get tossed out or fed to their toddlers who don’t care about anything but a sweet, sugary taste.

It’s the last day that your bakery will be open, and you’re glad that you decided to only stay open through the morning, closing before what used to be the lunch rush. It gives you time to enjoy the place in solitude. The decorations have already been packed up. All of the cases but one have been emptied and cleaned and locked up. You only kept two tables out front, not that you needed them--no one wanted to sit there this morning, with the gloomy atmosphere and the awkward tension in the air.

Now that you’re alone, you finally let yourself cry. Hot, humiliated, horrible tears that aren’t just for your bakery but for the life you had with your boyfriend that was cut down and ended . You thought you were going to get married. You thought you would have children with him. You thought you would grow old and sit together on the porch and rocking chairs , watching the sunset and all that crap. But no. None of that will happen, your bakery is closing, and you’re all alone.

You’re about to lock up for good and eat something for lunch that you probably won’t even taste through your sorrow, when you hear the door open and the bell above the door clatter and ring.

It startles you, because you thought you took that out this morning. Didn't you? You spin around, and there he is.

Seth.

It feels like a cruel joke. Familiar feelings rush back in, memories blinking in and out. The conversations you shared, sometimes surprisingly deep, often light, kind, funny. The way his eyes sometimes made you feel giddy, and then guilty, because you shouldn’t have been thinking about him like that. Not that it mattered now. Now, you were alone.

“Oh, Seth,” you say, voice thick with your tears, which you start rapidly wiping away with the back of your hands. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else, since… we’re closing.” Your voice is so tight the last words barely come out.

There’s a pinched sort of sympathy on his face. It looks unnatural there.

“Yes, I saw the sign.” He gazes around at the empty shell that was once a bustling bakery. “I thought business had been going well?”

“It was,” you say. “Great big emphasis on was.”

Your smile is bitter and tight and upset.

Seth clucks, a soft sound against the roof of his mouth. “Care to tell me what happened?’

And although it’s been more than a year since you’ve seen him, it’s like your mind and body slide into the old routine that the two of you shared before. Easy conversations, words that seem to spill out of your mouth even though you had only just met him. You’re tired, you’re sad, you feel numb and you want someone to share your pain with.

You search for the words. What did happen? What made you go from the top of the world to here, wiping away tears and mascara on your hands in front of a lonely cake display stand?

And then it comes to you. The perfect words. You don’t sigh them out, romantic and wistful. Instead they come short, clipped, bitter. And painfully true.

“I lost my secret ingredient.”

His eyes widen and you almost feel bad for being so short, so open, so honest.

But then he regards you with those eyes, eyes that you remember thinking about now and then while you were on the bakery floor. They were so deep, so thoughtful. You could get lost in them. Fall into them. Like leaning over a pond.

And then you remember where you are, and where he is, and you want to leave. You want to lock this place up and never think about it again. Dashed dreams and ruined futures--you want to be rid of it.

“I was just locking up,” you tell him, gathering your purse and your courage all in one go.

He nods, understanding, walking behind you as you step up to the door for the last time. You glance up and there are no bells--but then how--but you don’t have time to think anymore because there is a sudden, pouring rain outside that obscures everything in front of you. A cold rain. A misty rain. A terrible squall.

“You’re kidding,” you mutter. You don’t have your umbrella. You glance behind and of course, neither does Seth.

What he does have is a bag in his hand from a local takeout place.

“Lunch? For old time’s sake?”

You don’t answer and he gestures with his chin towards the rain.

“Unless you want to brave it.”

You glance outside. It looks freezing unpleasant and foggy. You may be feeling sorry for yourself, but you’d feel even worse if you were soaked to the bone. And there’s something else about it that makes you second guess stepping outside. The mist, it’s… you shake your head. It doesn’t matter.

“Sure,” you say, turning around to face him, forcing a smile, because you do suddenly feel like an asshole for being so short and cold with him. It’s not his fault your business failed. It’s not his fault your life is a mess.

This time it doesn’t feel charming to be stuck inside during the rain, eating lunch with a regular customer. You feel like you’re trapped in a tomb. You feel like you’re a ghost, pretending to live some place that had long since gone to rot.

This time, there is no jovial conversation between you. Only silence and the sound of wrappers, of chewing.

And then--

“What if I could help you get your business back on track?”

It’s not something you expected him to say, and you’re surprised by how much it hurt your heart to hear it. You didn’t think you could say such mundanely cruel things with ease.

“Please don’t start that.” You chew your food with renewed bitterness, barely tasting it. “I’ve already been down that road with finance managers and all sorts of people promising they knew how to fix things. None of it worked.” You lick your lips. You scoff, sighing, almost laughing a little. “Unless you have a magic wand…”

He smiles when you say this. But it’s not a mocking smile. It’s like he knows something. Like you told a joke, but didn’t even realize it.

“No need for a magic wand.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, you fight down the urge to snark. You shouldn’t. This is Seth. You weren’t friends, exactly, but as close as it could have been, considering that he was a customer of your shop for so long. He doesn’t mean any harm, you repeat to yourself. He’s just trying to help.

“So, what? Business plan?” You raise your voice, teasing darkly. “Money laundering?”

His smile seems more serious. And there’s something in his eyes that gives you pause. Even before he talks and takes your breath away with his words.

“Did you ever tell Mrs. Wolcott that you were the one who picked her husband’s last flowers from her garden? Or did you keep that secret to her grave?”

You’ve never felt such a sudden, horrible lack of air before. It’s like you’ve been punched in the stomach and can no longer breathe. You barely heard the sound of the rain pounding outside. You heard only silence, and your heartbeat, pounding so loud it made you feel sick.

Mrs. Wolcott was your neighbor when your family lived in a different town, in a different state. Back when you were a child. She had known you since birth, and doted on you in the way that neighborhood women sometimes did. Her husband was an avid gardener and when he died, she kept up his garden as a way to remember him.

You don’t know why you did it. It wasn’t out of malice or revenge or anything like that. But one day, you waltzed into her garden when you knew she wasn’t home, and picked every single flower. You didn’t even take them home. You just left them on the ground, scattered memories, plucked like they were nothing. Later, when you saw how upset she was, you cried yourself to sleep for two weeks straight. You even gave her flowers from your garden, a pitiful offering. She smiled and blubbered and held you close before offering you old candy from a dish.

But you would never admit to what you’d done. And you never did. She died, not knowing who had done such a terrible thing to her husband’s memory period to her precious garden.

“No,” you answer, voice hoarse, as if you’ve been talking for hours. It feels like you have, suddenly--like you’ve been here with Seth for an eternity.

“How… how did you know that?” Clarity returns slow and sluggish. He heard it from someone in town. Or he’s some kind of stalker. Or he found your childhood diary at a landfill and tracked you down just to mess with you. Yes. Maybe. Sure. There had to be some explanation. Right?

“I know lots of things.” He pauses. “About everyone. Everything. Not just you.” He doesn’t smile, exactly, but his expression contains a casual lightness that hurts as his next words leave his lips. “It was cruel of your boyfriend to leave you for the reason he did, you know.”

Don’t say it, you think. Don’t you dare say it out loud.

If he says it, you know, you just know that you’ll shatter into a million pieces. Christ, you don’t care if he knows--but how does he know? No one else knew, not even your mom, not even your friends--so long as he doesn’t say it out loud. So long as he doesn’t bring it to life syllable by syllable.

“How did he put it…” Seth’s head tilts a little to the side, as if he’s remembering a conversation he wasn’t there for, a conversation he shouldn’t be able to reference at all. Yet he does. With his next words… he does. “Ah, yes. ‘I want to be with someone that can give the family I want. Give me children.’”

His words bring you back to that evening, when you came home from work to find his bags packed, to find him waiting in the kitchen with a serious expression. It had only been two weeks since you’d gotten the confirmation of your infertility. Two weeks. He couldn’t wait any longer than that?

And Seth knew. Seth knew every word, down to the syllable, down to the way your boyfriend--ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself--said it.

You want to throw up. You want to leave. Neither happens.

“You’re just… you’re just a stalker,” you say, sputtering and desperate. Because it’s the only thing that makes sense. Even if it doesn’t. A stalker wouldn’t know that childhood secret. A stalker couldn’t know why your boyfriend left, or what he said to you. Or what happened next, the very thing that turned your heart to ash.

His expression turns softer, pitying. As if he might actually hate to say what comes out of his mouth next. “And that other woman becoming pregnant so soon after they started dating. Terrible, really.”

The sound of the rain outside stops so abruptly that you jump in your chair and turn your head to look. Outside, the rain is gone, but a thick fog is in its place. So thick you can’t really see beyond the glass storefront of your bakery. What was happening? What in the world was happening to you?

Slowly, you turn your head back to face Seth. And in that moment, you see his eyes now clearer than you ever have before--see them for what they are. Limitless and knowing and old, so very old.

“Who are you?” It comes out in a hoarse whisper. Some primal fear keeps your throat thick and your breath short.

“What’s a name?” His fingers fiddle with the edge of his coffee cup, and it’s now that you notice, abruptly, that his first two fingers are the exact same length. Maybe you saw it before and brushed it off as a trick of the light, but now it seems strange and terrible.

“You call me Seth, anyway,” he continues. “You can continue to do that. But that’s not what’s important, is it?” He meets your gaze, and you can’t look away. “I told you, I can get your bakery back into top shape.”

You shake your head without thinking. You don’t want his help. You want him to leave. You want the rain to let up and to leave this bakery and this town forever.

“I didn’t take you for being so hasty,” he chides. “I thought you would know a good deal when you saw one.”

“A deal?”

The question seems to engage him, because he leans forward now, chin in hand.

“Yes, a deal. That’s why I came back. To offer my assistance.” He gestures around him, at the empty hull that was once your biggest dream. “It’s a shame to waste your talent. To waste your generosity.” He smiles, a little, and it’s such an empathetic smile that you almost feel like crying. When was the last time someone showed you empathy, not just cloying pity?

“You put your heart and soul into this bakery, didn’t you? Your love.” The last word is said in nostalgia, as if he’s reliving a memory. “You gave it to others so freely. Yet as soon as you were struggling, the customers you’d been so generous with… well.” He doesn’t need to say the rest.

There’s a few moments of pause. And you realize he wants you to speak.

“You…” Your words come out slow, measured. You feel like you’re floating, and you’re desperately trying to gain some purchase on the ground. Seth… what was he? He knew things he couldn’t. And in his eyes, there was something--something you couldn’t exactly explain. But his eyes told you everything (and yet nothing) about him. He wasn’t human. He was… something else.

Something that was offering you an impossible dream. A deal?

“You could make my bakery popular again,” you say finally, voice slow and disbelieving.

“Yes,” he replies, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I could make it so no one remembers your recent failures, and it’s as busy as it ever was. Busier, if you want. Or,” and there’s something kind in his voice now. “If the memories would be too much for you, you can start a bakery somewhere else. Or any type of business, really. All that matters is that it’s a success, right? All that matters is that you’re happy.”

You snort through your nose.

“Why do you care if I’m happy or not?”

An odd expression crosses his face. Then it’s gone, replaced with a placid smile. Yet underneath it, there’s still something, a hint, a inch of… what, exactly? You feel like you’ve seen that expression on him before. On that last day before he left.

But he smooths it out entirely until you’re left with nothing but his calm expression and his words.

“You could say I’m in the business of granting people their deepest wish. And that’s yours, isn’t it? To be happy again?”

And it is. Oh God, it is. You want so badly to feel happy like you used to--to wake up in the morning, giddy and bright, dreaming of the future and kneading it with your own flour-dusted hands. You want to feel anything but the empty, aching loneliness and sorrow that you’ve felt over these past months. You want to feel whole… so whole that you can once again start giving away pieces of yourself, your heart, to others.

Seth could make that happen.

But at what price?

“What…” you begin, feeling very small and very young in the face of all this. “What would you want in return?”

“Not much.” His voice is level and calm and reasonable. Like you’re doing business in a regular bakery, and not making some sort of otherworldly deal involving magic for what you thought were impossible things. “Only one thing, really.”

Your fingers grip the edge of the table until your knuckles hurt.

“What thing?”

He reaches towards you, and his hand is warm as it covers your own, tight-knuckled, trembling. You don’t want him to touch you--what will he feel like?--but when he does, there’s only warmth, ordinary and mundane.

A million possibilities run through your mind. His fingers tighten on yours, which slacken. He takes up your hand, lifting it from its death-grip on the table, and your heart hammers.

Does he want your soul? Your life? A sacrifice? Something worse, something you can’t even comprehend?

Your gaze goes from his hand on yours to his face, and you recognize the serious expression on it as one he wore on the last day you saw him before your life turned sideways.

Seth smiles. His eyes light up, all blue and green and you think again of the sensation of falling into them, of being lost in them, drowned in them, unable to pull away from them forever.

“In return, what I want is…” he says, pausing, letting his words sink in before he delivers the finishing blow. “Your secret ingredient.”

The mist outside is unrelenting.

#smiling man #small spaces #afterwitch writes #katherine arden #'non you activated my I Ship It with the smiling man here #really hard

144 notes · View notes

father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years

Note

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

#eren yeager x reader #bully eren yeager #toxic eren #eren yeager x you #yandere eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dubcon tw #tw noncon #tw abuse #tw drinking #tw drunk driving #eren yeager fanfiction #dark content #dark fic #tw trauma #tw depr

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wonda-cat · 4 years

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Misconceptions About Tommyinnit’s Character That Genuinely INFURIATE Me

Since the recent events following the second L’Manburg Festival and subsequent war, I’ve seen many, many hot takes surrounding the nature of Tommyinnit’s character on the SMP. Some of which annoyed me to the point where I felt compelled to sit down and actually write this. I’m going to only be highlighting the most common complaints or questions I’ve seen, one by one, in hopes of providing a better understanding of Tommy’s character for anyone interested. (I also briefly discuss Techno and Tubbo’s characters as well.)

If you’ve said similar things to what I’m going to be discussing below, please know that it’s perfectly understandable how you’d come to these conclusions. Some of these aspects of Tommy’s character are not always obvious; especially if being watched from another streamer’s POV. This may become quite lengthy, so bear with me for now.

“Tommy’s motives are all over the place. He can’t decide whether he wants the discs back or not.”

Tommy is actually one of the most motivationally consistent characters on the entire Dream SMP. Even Techno, someone completely confident in their ideals, does more motivational flipping than Tommy. From the very start of the story, Tommy has always cared for three things; L’Manburg, Tubbo, and his music discs. However, him caring for something is not itself a motivation.

Surprisingly enough, his motivation isn’t even just, ‘Get my discs back,’ like many assume it is. Tommy’s one true motivation, since the end of the Independence War, has always been, ‘Keep things the way they are now.’

Tommy’s one fatal flaw is that he is resistant to change and refuses to let go of the past. This is seen through all of his actions and words; in all conflicts involving him. This flaw is the drive to all of Tommy’s mistakes. Burning down George’s house, an action which resulted in him getting exiled, was done out of a desire to pull pranks the way he used to before the first war. His friendship with Ranboo started because Tommy said he reminded him of Tubbo, back before he was President.

Tommy still talks highly of Wilbur because he chooses to remember him as the wise, kind mentor who cared for him. This motive is the reason he defends L’Manburg so fiercely; it’s his memory of a better past. This is why he holds grudges more often than any other character; especially refusing to forgive Techno after he killed Tubbo during the Manburg Massacre.

It’s why Tommy falls under extreme distress whenever Tubbo or Quackity tell him that something will never be the same again. This motivation is entirely formed from an underlying desire for peace and comfort, something Tommy has been denied since being forced into a life wrought with war and death. To accept change, to Tommy, is painful and terrifying. But he will only ever truly be happy when he finally learns to let go.

“Why do the discs matter so much to Tommy? They’re not actually worth anything.”

Tommy’s discs are much more than just any ordinary pair of music discs. They were never important for their material worth, but for what Tommy was willing to sacrifice in order to keep them. Tommy is entirely what gives the discs their value.

Tommy also commonly operates under the Sunk-Cost Fallacy, wherein he’s invested too much of himself into something to just abandon it, even if it’s causing him problems. This mentality is a huge piece of what keeps him tied to both L’Manburg and to his discs. He’s sacrificed too much at this point to simply let them go. If he admits the discs are worthless, then he’s admitting that he wasted all this time and effort, just to keep them.

The discs also act as a constant source of hope for Tommy because they are directly tied with his motivations as a character. They’re something he’s had since the very beginning. They’re something he used to listen to with Tubbo on their shared bench.

To Tommy, they symbolize a life before war, filled with comfort and peace. They are a love letter to his country and his late mentor Wilbur. They are a physical representation of Tubbo’s companionship. They are the only thing, besides L’Manburg and his best friend, that gives him the hope that he can one day return things to the way they used to be.

This ideal, paired with Tommy’s refusal to let go, has left him ruthlessly pursuing the things he’s lost. Not his music discs, but his peace and comfort, his friendship, his country, his mentor Wilbur, and his life before war.

In his desperation to hold onto his prized possession, it has only hurt and pushed away the people that love him. If Tommy continues to ignore this reality, while still refusing to resolve his major flaw entwined with it, he will lose all that the discs had once stood for. He will lose his country, then his friend Tubbo, and then he will lose himself.

“Tommy never grows or learns from his mistakes. This makes him a badly written character.”

Characters do not have to constantly learn from their actions to be well-written. Tommy is one of the best examples of this. The fact that his growth is infrequent is the entire point of his character; it’s completely stemmed from his fatal flaw.

By addressing himself, he would be accepting change, something that terrifies him; something he stubbornly resists until he is absolutely forced to confront it. Contrary to popular belief, Tommy knows when he makes mistakes, but he pretends to be ignorant as to avoid facing reality. He digs his head in the sand despite knowing better, puppeteering the person he used to be during happier times, now gone.

In spite of his infrequent growth, the idea that Tommy still hasn’t learned anything isn’t quite correct either. Tommy, as of the last three plot streams, has shown incredible character development. By giving up his discs again, he had finally demonstrated that Tubbo is more important to him than his possessions. Speaking as a makeshift leader, he put aside his issues with others to rally them together against a common threat, something which Tommy had never been able to do before. He owned up to all of his mistakes openly, apologizing to everyone he’s ever hurt in one place.

He apologized to Tubbo after they were reunited and came to terms with the fact that Tubbo was forced to exile him without choice, finally forgiving him. He was kind to Sapnap and learned how to be his friend after months of bitter rivalry. And these are only a few examples. This isn’t to say Tommy has overcome/fixed everything because he clearly hasn’t. There are still major things Tommy needs to work through that remain unaddressed, the biggest being his complicated relationship with Technoblade.

“Tommy only cares about himself. He does everything in his power to be the hero, always putting himself in the center of attention, especially during Doomsday.”

Tommy, since the start of the L’Manburg War for Independence, has never set out to be a hero. Not once. He may fall into the role of the protagonist, but his identity as a hero was pushed onto him by others. Giving up the discs was his only option during the Independence War.

So when Wilbur called him a hero for it, Tommy said he didn’t feel like he was. During the November 16th War, Tommy again said he didn’t feel like a hero because he had lost what he thought was everything at the time. During exile, Tommy certainly knew he was no hero. And upon reuniting with Tubbo, he admitted to feeling like the farthest thing from it. That he’d hurt everyone and all he wanted to do now was fix it.

The day before Doomsday, Tommy only took a leadership position because no one else was willing to, filling the role for Tubbo, who was crumbling under pressure. He had no choice but to try to bring everyone together, or fight alone. Most viewers never saw this during Doomsday, but before the battle, almost everyone who had vowed to fight alongside L’Manburg had abandoned them the very next day. They were convinced it was going to be destroyed either way, no matter what they did, so they chose not to see it through to the end; ultimately leaving Tommy and those who remained to fight a losing battle, alone.

After about a third of the way through the battle, it became clear to everyone that they could do nothing to win. One by one, everyone stopped fighting and stood by to watch their country go up in smoke. Tommy was the only person on the battlefield who refused to stand down and give up. And so he took over the role as leader again, trying his best to keep them alive, to keep Tubbo hopeful; to keep fighting, no matter what.

However, what most people don’t realize, is that this isn’t Tommy trying to be a hero or force himself into the spotlight. This is Tommy trying to convince himself to keep going. Because whenever things start to look hopeless, Tommy simply chooses to ignore them. He puts on a happy face and soldiers through it because that’s all he knows how to do. Tommy, at his core, is someone who wants peace through stagnation. He doesn’t want to fight, although causing the occasional friendly conflict is how he finds fun. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt others.

Tommy may come across as self-centered, but this is because he is an extremely extroverted character. He finds energy and joy in the attention of others, both good and bad. It’s why he’s always seeking the approval of others and, oftentimes, will destructively insert himself into another person’s life in order to find it.

Out of every character in the story, Tommy is the most drawn to praise and positive reinforcement. He is constantly seeking out mentors and friends because Tommy needs someone else to help him feel confident in his own identity and abilities. It’s why Wilbur was such a positive influence on him. His boisterous confidence has always been a front because if anyone were to actually hurt him, he knows it will make his self-esteem crumble instantly.

This is part of why Dream’s manipulation was so effective against him. By isolating him, he’s left without energy and looking to another person’s guidance. Tommy outwardly may seem independent and rude, but just under the skin, he’s unconfident and lost when he’s by himself. Tommy will only grow from this flaw when he finds his own identity and inner confidence; when he finally learns to be okay with being alone.

“Tommy goes to the festival solely to get his disc back and then tells Tubbo to give it away immediately after. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Before the screaming match between the two friends during the second L’Manburg Festival, Tommy had been in exile, manipulated by Dream for long enough to lose his will to carry on. It is because of him that Tommy’s reality becomes distorted, long after fleeing from his abuser. This mangling of ideals leads Tommy to subconsciously believe that L’Manburg and Tubbo are unsalvageable.

Therefore, the only thing he has hopes of retrieving are his discs, which are easier to manage than the latter two things. And so Tommy does reprehensible things at the behest of Techno in a vain hope of getting them back, going so far as to kidnap and torture for them. This ultimately culminates in a confrontation between the ex-friends, quickly turning violent. It is in this violence that we see Tommy has sunk to his absolute lowest point in his journey.

Swinging his axe, he nearly kills his friend as he delivers a string of words that cause the room to silence instantly. He says the discs were always worth more than his friend. Within the quiet of the room, Tommy is forced to reflect on everything he’s done. How he kidnapped and tortured Connor. How he accidentally drowned Fundy. How he traumatized Ranboo.

And now he’s hurt Tubbo, the one person he has always sought to protect; someone he vowed to never hurt. This realization causes Tommy to break. He’s so ashamed of himself that he can’t look at anyone. Tommy knows now that he is worse than anyone he’s ever hated.

With pain in his voice, he tries and fails to apologize to Tubbo in the moment. The only way he knows to redeem himself now is to prove to Tubbo, after everything, that he can still put the discs aside. And so he does.

“The fact that Tommy is still trying to get his discs back after L’Manburg was destroyed is unreasonable and ridiculous.”

Tommy deals with grief in an interesting way, doing something very similar to Techno. His grief almost instantly becomes anger and a drive to prove himself. It morphs into a need for vengeance in response to injustice, always.

After the destruction of L’Manburg, Tommy saying he wants the discs back is a double-sided motivator. The obvious side being: Tommy still needs them to feel comfort. The subtle side beneath it: Tommy is using them as an excuse to find Dream and kill him. To make him pay for helping destroy their home, hurting his friends, and abusing him in exile.

Upon the loss of his home, I’d also argue the discs have only grown more important to Tommy in the aftermath. Typically, in grief, people hold onto things that survive devastation far more than if the tragic event never occurred. If your eldest child dies, one may hold their surviving children tighter. If your house burns down, one may deeply treasure a box of items that survived the flames. Tommy’s desperation after losing so much is entirely understandable.

On top of this, the discs are still the core to Tommy’s fatal flaw. They are what keeps him from achieving total happiness, so him getting over this intrinsic part of himself so easily would make for an unsatisfying character arc. He still has to work for his happiness in order to change for the better.

To add, I’ve seen a lot of people complaining that Tommy is still prioritizing the discs over Tubbo, especially in that moment. And while I mostly agree, there are some interactions that stand out to me as being different between the pair that may imply otherwise. Tommy says a few times that despite L’Manburg being destroyed, he still has something left to lose; each time, turning to look at Tubbo.

This subtly implies that losing Tubbo would be as devastating as losing his home. Tubbo also never voices disagreement over Tommy’s continued pursuit of the item. However, Tubbo frequently does what he thinks will make others happy, so this doesn’t implicitly mean support for Tommy either. Besides these two things, this is still Tommy’s fatal flaw shining through, continuing to hurt others around him.

I only hope Tubbo can learn to stand up for himself and voice his real thoughts to Tommy now, after everything. It would provide at least some desperately-needed closure for Tubbo’s character.

“How could Tommy betray Techno like that? Techno told him upfront what he was going to do.”

While it’s true that Techno was obvious about his plans, Tommy was also just as upfront with Techno about what he thought of it. In fact, maybe even more so, considering Techno attempted to hide them from Tommy for a good portion of their partnership. Whenever Techno brought up the idea of destroying L’Manburg or hurting Tubbo, Tommy would always remind Techno that he didn’t want to hurt anyone. And that if Techno ever did, Tommy would be there to stand in his way. He never once stopped saying this.

Tommy’s two major positive character traits have always been his undying loyalty and his strength to never give up, even in the face of death. Two classically heroic qualities, both of which, ironically, reinforce his fatal flaw. His refusal to change makes him stubborn; stubbornness being the only quality that makes unwavering loyalty and extreme persistence feasible.

Because of these two traits, it was impossible from the start for Dream to completely break Tommy’s spirit and for Techno to get him to agree to anything too extreme. Despite this, Techno already had no hope of keeping Tommy on his side after the events of the day before the Festival. During it, Tommy had asked multiple times for Techno to give his word not to hurt anyone. That they’d only threaten to spawn a wither, get Techno’s remaining weapons in exchange, then leave. That’s it.

Techno avoided directly promising Tommy but still agreed not to regardless. So when Techno chose to spawn the wither anyway, despite Tommy urging them to leave multiple times, whatever trust Tommy had with him went completely out the window. Thus, when the threat was finally real, that Techno would make due on his promise to burn his home country to the ground and slaughter his friends, Tommy intervened. It would be unreasonable to expect Tommy not to stand against him in that moment, especially after his mental breakdown which ensued as a result of him nearly killing his best friend.

Adding salt to the wound on Tommy’s end, Techno decided to also align himself with Dream, someone Techno knew Tommy was afraid of. This might have been a way to purposely hurt Tommy. More likely, it was because Dream and him shared a common goal in the moment and Techno desperately needed allies.

However, the implication of Techno siding with Tommy’s abuser most certainly hurt him, regardless of its original intentions. This is possibly why Tommy kept insisting through Doomsday that Techno betrayed him, avoiding actually telling anyone the reason as to why. If he couldn’t find the words to describe what Dream did to him, even to Tubbo, he certainly wouldn’t be able to tell Techno either.

“Techno gave Tommy everything, only to be repaid with betrayal.”

This statement regarding Tommy is the one I see most often. (It is also the one I get the most heated about.)

Dream’s character is well known for his manipulation tactics against other characters; pitting them against each other, crushing them under his heel, bending their will to conform to his own. It’s what makes him an interesting villain. It’s something fun to discuss.

But is it still fun to discuss manipulation tactics if they’re so subtle, almost no one notices them? This is the paradigm Technoblade’s character falls into. While people know Techno for his laid-back personality, dry humor, and complex motivations, many fail to recognize him as a manipulator. The reason why this is so hard to spot is because it is mostly unintentional on behalf of the character. Dream performs his craft with intention, Techno does it without realizing.

As well as this being unwitting, it is sandwiched between Techno’s actual attempts to connect with Tommy and care for him. Thus, making the manipulation feel less damaging. The only problem is, this still hurts Tommy just as much, regardless of the intentions behind it. Especially after just escaping Dream, Tommy’s reality and sense of identity are horribly distorted. In this vulnerable state, he desperately needs healing and someone to help ground him. This is what makes him even more susceptible to Techno’s influence.

And because it is much subtler, it is harder to notice, and much harder to break free from. Despite Tommy claiming to hate Techno for what he did on November 16th, he still chose to flee to his house because it was the only place he could think of going, as well as being the safest area possible. After the failed execution, Techno mentioned potentially hurting Tubbo through a vengeance plot. Tommy voiced extreme distress over this, to which Techno threatened to kick him out of his house.

Tommy then says he’s fine being homeless because he doesn’t want anything to do with someone who would hurt his friend. This is when Techno decides to weaponize Tommy’s own trauma against him. To be fair to Techno again, Tommy never told him the extent of the abuse he suffered in exile. But Techno isn’t stupid. He knows Tommy is extremely afraid of Dream, and for good reason.

So he tells Tommy that if he were kicked out, he’d be defenseless. That if he were out there all alone, Dream would find him very easily. That Dream would drag him right back to Logstedshire in an instant. He notices the way Tommy reacts to this, how quickly he changes his mind about being kicked out. He continues to use this trauma repeatedly in order to keep Tommy under his roof, no matter how disagreeable he gets about Techno’s plans. He knows he can’t retrieve his weapons alone because he has no leverage.

Therefore, using Tommy like a wild card was a major side strategy. Techno knows it will hurt Tubbo by doing this and may make the President more willing to compromise. In addition to this, many of the strategies Techno utilizes are Narcissistic manipulation tactics, categorized by their intent to keep the victim in a position below the abuser in terms of worth. This includes Techno using the silent treatment as a punishment, something which hurts Tommy since he craves affection from others.

He also attempts to isolate Tommy by telling him he doesn’t need anyone else; that everyone abandoned him during exile (something which Dream has also said.) He tells Tommy that he’s only alive because Techno is there to defend him and supply for him, as well as constantly reminding Tommy to not let any compliments he receives get to his head. These are both meant to make Tommy depend more on Techno and doubt his own abilities. Techno also occasionally engages in subtle gaslighting, attempting to sow doubt in Tommy’s mind about his relationships with Tubbo, Quackity, Ranboo, and Fundy.

It’s also vital to keep in mind what exactly separates Dream and Techno in this regard. The most important thing being that Techno actually does care about Tommy. He trusts him and wants to earnestly help him. He knows Tommy has been traumatized and abused in some way, but he doesn’t know how to help because he’s not that great with people. It also doesn’t help that Tommy is unable to tell anyone what happened.

In the end, Techno really does want to be a shield for Tommy. Despite debating handing Tommy over to Dream, it’s more likely Techno was using this as bait for Dream to waste his favor on something useless. After all, he could always save Tommy, should he ask for him to. Techno’s warnings about Tubbo and L’Manburg also come from a place of love, as Techno was personally hurt by them and wants to protect Tommy by telling him to leave it behind. However, just because something is done out of love, doesn’t mean it’s automatically helpful or good for someone.

There’s no better example of this than in Techno’s most damaging and frequently used tactic: ‘Buy Their Love,’ a technique commonly used on children by narcissistic parents. At first glance, nothing seems wrong. Techno gives Tommy most things he asks for; providing him with food, gifts, protection, and a place to sleep. The manipulation within this arises when the act of kindness is counted as a debt against the person who receives it. That by receiving so many good things, they would be ungrateful to go against their abuser. Doesn’t matter if they emotionally or physically hurt you, they gave you gifts, so you should shut your mouth and allow the abuse to continue.

Whenever Tommy speaks out against Techno’s violent actions or his plans to hurt his friends, Techno would frequently bring up all his ‘good deeds.’ He consistently reminds Tommy that he could’ve just thrown him back to Dream, but he was too kind. That he went out of his way to give him gear, food, and a roof over his head. That he was kind so Tommy should be quiet and let Techno plot to hurt the people he loves. Or else he’s selfish and ungrateful. Or else Techno will take all of his gifts back and leave him with nothing.

Knowing this, it is horrifying seeing people justifying this behavior by mocking Tommy’s character and calling him ungrateful using this very same fallacy. (Especially for those who grew up being controlled by this very tactic.)

It is through knowing Techno’s use of the ‘Buy Their Love,’ method that makes Tommy’s, ‘I am worthy,’ response, not one of betrayal, but one of triumph. This moment is a major positive character change for Tommy for many reasons. When Tommy decides to stand against Techno, this causes him to fall back on his most reliable tactic. He insults Tommy and then asks for the Axe of Peace back. Instead of caving, Tommy refuses.

By keeping the Axe of Peace, Techno’s final gift to him, he is not only rejecting the destruction of all he loves, but he is breaking free from Techno’s manipulation. He says, ‘I am worthy,’ because now he knows his own self-worth. He doesn’t need Techno or Dream to decide it for him. This moment is Tommy finally breaking free from not just Techno, but Dream as well. He is finally free.

“Tommy was only using Techno and never thought of him as a friend.”

Tommy and Techno’s relationship is complicated, which is why pretending only one side was in the wrong isn’t entirely accurate. Their friendship, in summary, is tragic when fully examined; being doomed from the start. Techno and Tommy are brought into conflict often because they are simultaneously so similar and so different. Techno and Tommy both deal with grief in the same way. They both long for a life of peace and comfort. They each long for companionship, hold their ideals in kind, and are both naturally resilient in the face of adversity.

Yet, their personalities and courses of action are polar opposites. What makes this friendship one of tragedy is the fact that not just Techno, not just Tommy, but both of them, actually thought the other was their friend. They had each wanted to be the other’s friend since the day they’d met. Tommy never stopped wanting to impress Techno and get on his good side, even if his methods annoyed the target of his affections. Him calling Techno ‘The Blade’ was never meant to dehumanize him; it was a title of adoration.

Along the same spectrum, Techno is a character who generally longs for friendship, but pretends not to after a lifetime of hurt. He’s been burned too many times, and so he chooses to stay alone. Techno is generally very reclusive and awkward around others, so when he likes someone or cares for them, it’s noticeable from a mile away. Their friendship has a very brotherly dynamic, and the fact that Techno allowed him to stay in his house, implies Tommy is a step above pretty much everyone else but Phil. Putting up with Tommy’s shenanigans is itself a sign of affection.

However, when their goals come into conflict and the two start to drift apart, they deal with this in massively different ways. With Tommy devastated and enraged, and with Techno withdrawn and hurt, once more burned by someone he slowly learned to trust. They were once both friends, neither one was pretending. Yet, both of them thought their companionship was unreciprocated.

On top of this, both Techno and Tommy were using each other. Techno used Tommy to get his weapons back by manipulating and lying to him. Tommy used Techno to protect him from Dream and get his discs back. They each hurt the other and refused to listen, both shouting valid complaints at the other that they refused to hear.

Their relationship is also deeply affected by the themes of vengeance in the current arc, which is something I haven’t seen many people talk about. Most of the current conflicts this past month have resulted from characters being unable to forgive, resorting to revenge as a way to cope with loss. L’Manburg was the first to initiate this, through the influence of Quackity. The Butcher Army was formed to punish Techno for a war crime he committed. And while this is perfectly reasonable, what isn’t is the way the incident was orchestrated. It was an unchecked abuse of power to execute someone without a fair trial, as well as punishing Phil, who was not involved whatsoever.

This was also particularly unfair to Techno, as many projected their anger at Wilbur onto him. Even Tommy did this, finding himself unable to blame his late mentor, so Techno was the next best option for him. However, it was Techno’s response to this that was interesting. He chose a path of vengeance, the same way L’Manburg did, after vowing to live his life as a pacifist. By doing this and following through, he hurt everyone, not just the people he claimed needed to pay for their actions.

Instead of just picking the weed in the garden, he set the entire flower bed on fire. Through L’Manburg’s destruction, he gets what he wants. He destroys their government, but he also scars the earth and shatters the sky. He leaves uninvolved people homeless, deeply hurting Ranboo, Eret, and especially Ghostbur. Philza turns to vengeance as well, taking his anger at the death of his son out on people who do not deserve it.

Tubbo, a day before the second Festival, was given another chance to seek revenge when Techno had spawned a wither on their land. Instead, all Tubbo could say was, ‘We do nothing … It’s pointless, vengeance. It’s poisonous.’ By doing this, he has managed to be a bigger person than even Techno was, with the strength and maturity to turn the other cheek. And now with Tommy’s plan to kill Dream, the conflict continues to escalate; only ending where forgiveness begins.

It’s sad to think, if Techno didn’t choose a path of vengeance and Tommy was strong enough to tell Techno how he really felt, the two might have remained friends. Who knows? Maybe they still can.

“Tommy was the one in the wrong. Techno was right to destroy L’Manburg.”

Techno is a lovely character. He’s well-written, engaging, funny. He has many values and quirks that are generally relatable and interesting. His motives are deeply understandable and sympathetic. And yet, he is perfectly capable of being evil, in just the same way that Tommy can be deeply flawed despite being the protagonist.

I’m sure most people already know that Technoblade is a villain. Or more accurately, a tragic antagonist. Techno (the streamer) knows he is and he’s having fun playing that part. Just because a character is morally in the wrong doesn’t mean their values and ideology don’t have merit. The best character I could compare Techno to is Thanos.

They have completely valid concerns and points, but it is the way in which they go about achieving their goals that makes them into evil people. And despite this, many will still agree with them, even after they do something reprehensible. Contrary to popular belief, Technoblade’s tendency towards violence isn’t a good thing, no matter how you look at it. Even Techno himself knows this, that’s why he decided to reform and become a pacifist with Phil. He was not a good influence on Tommy, on top of also manipulating him.

Techno caving to hatred and vengeance makes him no different to the resolve of the Butcher Army that pursued him. It is precisely the fact that he went on to destroy the home of not just Tommy, but also Ranboo and Ghostbur, that puts him in the wrong. He is allowed to despise all government and remove himself from it, but the moment he decided to insert himself into someone else’s country and take their home from them in order to destroy it, he abandoned an integral principle to his own values.

This principle being: ‘Choice.’ The act of letting others be free to decide what they want for themselves. It is a huge component to the concept of anarchy, the freedom to choose. And yet Techno robbed this from, not just the ruling powers that hurt him, but individuals who were not even involved in the first place. He justifies this by saying it’s for their own good, that he’s helping; while acting in a self-serving manner.

In his anger, he became the punisher, stooping lower than L’Manburg has ever gone. There is also the issue of Dream weaponizing Techno to destroy the one thing that has been a thorn in his side since the very start, manipulating Techno’s grief to achieve his goals. Tommy’s biggest sin in the Doomsday War was standing up to Techno and getting in the way of him hurting his friends and destroying his home.

This isn’t to say Tommy is perfect, because he still hurt everyone he ever loved. But the only way he knew to redeem himself was to fight for what he knew was right. And so he chose to fight alongside his best friend, Tubbo. However, just because Techno is in the wrong doesn’t mean others are wrong for wanting to side with him, or by finding joy in his ruthlessness. The biggest appeal of Techno is the fact that he opposes people like Tommy.

He knows how to put people in their place and it’s satisfying to watch. Some people love rooting for villains and it’s entertaining to see a being with so much power crush everyone else down so effortlessly. Especially because it’s so easy to sympathize with Technoblade. Sympathetic villains are the best kind; where they have understandable motivations, relatable flaws, people they love, and something they can lose. Dream is a villain you love to hate. Technoblade is a villain you hate to love. Simple as.

Despite the destruction of L’Manburg being either devastating or fantastic depending on who you are, there is one major good it has done. It has pushed Tommy more towards the completion of his character arc. By losing one of the three things he loves, it will be impossible for him to pretend any longer. He will be forced to confront reality very soon. It all depends on whether Tubbo will have to die first for him to finally see it.

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dickwheelie · 3 years

Text

sooooooo I wrote a sequel to that love entities jmart post that got pretty popular. all you really need to know is that post mag 200 jon becomes a local cryptid and listens to people's stories about encounters with the entities to help unburden them of some of their fear. please enjoy!

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Just inside the entryway of Old Fishmarket Close, hidden just out of sight of the street, there stands a shrine. It is not an old shrine of weathered stone, nor is it carefully crafted with intricate religious symbols, nor is it static, weighed down by years of collected dust. It is in many ways a living shrine; flowers bloom and wilt at its feet, while above it, against the wall of the Close, piles of paper, photographs, and keepsakes are haphazardly stacked and stuck. The shrine seems to breathe as each day passes, as innumerable and unsung hands replace its flowers and let their offerings crawl up its wall like vines.

The shrine is not marked, but everyone who looks for it, in the shadows of the entryway, knows precisely who it is for.

You arrive that day with only a piece of notebook paper in your hand. Upon it is written a short message, and not an uncommon one to see at the shrine: Thank You. A substitute, of sorts, for the flowers and other gifts that people often leave. You, like many others, are not well off, and you hope that a small note can make up for your lack of material offerings.

As you approach the shrine, a gust of wind whistles through the alleyway and rustles the pages plastered across the length of the wall. You’ve brought no adhesive, so you slip the piece of paper partially beneath a bouquet lying on the stone walkway. It’s relatively fresh, so you hope it won’t be moved anytime soon. You’ve no idea who replaces the flowers, but you suspect it’s never the same person twice. The locals all know about the shrine and the person it’s meant for, and they’ve grown protective of them both.

Dozens of other people have had the same idea before you; the ground is littered with short notes of gratitude. Thank you for listening, says one, transcribed in loving calligraphy, the i’s dotted with hearts. Thank You For Finding Me, Whoever You Are, says another. I rely lik yor hat, says one written in crayon. Another says, You’ll probably never read this, but thank you for hearing my story. There must be hundreds of them, and there are more each time you visit.

You had spent the better part of the morning trying to come up with something more eloquent to write, but you’ve never been great with words. Telling the mysterious person your story had been the only time you’d ever felt as though your words matched your thoughts, that what came out of your mouth was exactly how you felt, and that the person you were talking to understood you fully.

You suppose a thank you is better than nothing, and after one last fond look at the shrine, you turn to go.

A footstep that is not your own echoes down the alleyway. You turn, half-alarmed, but relax at once when you see who it is.

You have only ever seen him once before, about a month ago when you told him your story, but he is difficult to forget; his figure tall and thin, his posture horrendous, his features hidden entirely by a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He stands now at the far end of the alleyway, hands clutched before his hunched torso, giving you the distinct impression he’s staring directly at you.

“Um, hello,” you say, haltingly. You’re not quite sure how to address him, but you figure a polite greeting is universal. You gesture at the shrine. “I don’t have, uh, another story or anything. I was just leaving a note for you.”

His hat tips curiously to the side, and he shuffles forward with his cautious gait, peering closer at the shrine. The dark brim of his hat swivels towards you, as though asking a question.

“The shrine,” you say. “I just left a short note. It’s no big thing, I just—I wanted to leave something.”

The words seem to mean nothing to him. He looks at the shrine, then at you, then back at the shrine. He steps a bit closer to it, and reaches out a long-fingered, gloved hand to touch the petals from a bouquet of daffodils. After the briefest of moments, he pulls away again, hands resuming their wringing.

A thought occurs to you. “Do you . . . do you not know what this is?”

He shakes the hat once.

“This is . . . this is for you,” you say, spreading your arms to encompass the garden on the ground and the sea of pages above. “The flowers, the little trinkets, the thank-you letters—it’s for you. From . . . from all of us, who’ve told you our stories. You’ve helped us so much, we wanted to let you know how much we appreciated it. How grateful we are.”

He doesn’t react, and so you reach out and pick out a card, one that says, Talking to you about how scared I was of the dark made me less afraid of it. I sleep better at night because of what you did for me. Thank you, mysterious stranger. Much love, E.M.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him, and he takes it with a shaky glove. The brim of his hat lowers as he reads. "That’s just one of them. There are loads more just like that.” You survey the pile and pick out another. “This one’s from a kid, thanking you for helping their mom . . . And this one’s just a simple thank you note but they did cover it in glitter glue, so, there’s that . . . And this person wanted you to know that their anxiety improved after talking to you . . .”

He takes note after note from you, reading them all, silent and unexpressive as always, but there’s something in his posture that is unbearably human. Somehow it reminds you of how people stand when they hold a baby chick in their hands.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” you say, not unkindly. You’re both sitting on the ground now, amidst the bouquets and piles of thank-yous. “Who else would this all be for?”

As he picks up yet another note, a tremor runs through his body. He raises a gloved hand to the shadows beneath the hat, and you watch as two drops of water stain the page in his hand. His chest convulses as more tears fall, his hand moving under the hat to wipe them away, but they keep coming. Still he makes no sound.

You didn’t know he could cry. You don’t know why you’re surprised; he’s strange, certainly, and perhaps not entirely human . . . but he has heard so many horrible things, and human or not, he deserves a chance to cry.

“Are you—are you okay?” you say, not sure what to do.

The hat nods once, and then shakes.

“I . . . I know it’s probably a lot, all at once,” you say, and you reach out to touch his arm. The movement comes naturally, without much thought; you would have done the same for a friend.

He flinches at your touch, and you immediately pull away, but then he relaxes again, and nods. Tears are still falling from the shadows down onto his coat.

You touch his arm again, gently, and he doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry if it’s overwhelming. But we really are grateful, and you have a bad habit of not accepting thanks. This was one of the only ways we could think to . . . to show you.” You take a deep breath, and gaze into the shadows of where his face might be, doing your best to look him in the eye. “We don’t really know who you are, or why you came here, or why you choose to listen to us. But somehow, we know you mean well. I think everyone who’s told their story knows that, me included. That you’re trying to help us, that you want to do good. And you do. We . . . we want you to know that you’ve done good.”

His chest rises and falls shakily, and though he still makes no sound you swear you can hear a sob. He reaches out and grasps your arm in turn, and suddenly you realize what he needs.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask.

The hat nods, again and again, and you open your arms, and he falls forward. You would have done the same for a friend.

You almost expect the hug to be gentle, but it is not; it is tight and desperate, and feels so human you do not think twice about hugging him back just as tightly. He is not terribly warm, but you can feel a heart beating beneath his coat. A few tears fall on the back of your jacket. You know that if you just looked up, you would be able to see his face beneath the hat, but you keep your eyes shut tight.

When you move apart, a few moments later, he seems a little more composed, and no more tears fall from beneath the hat. He straightens his back a bit, growing taller even in a sitting position, and you can see just the barest hint of a mouth, which is smiling a delicate, wobbly sort of smile. He brings a gloved hand up to his chin, placing his fingertips against it, and moves them towards you, once, twice.

You are by no means fluent in sign language, but you recognize the sign for Thank you when you see it.

You smile back at him. “You’re welcome,” you say.

He looks back at the shrine, at the piles and piles of notes he has yet to read. You watch as he picks up a handful more, seemingly at random, shuffling them in his hands and pressing them close to his chest. After a pause, he reaches out and slowly picks up one of the bouquets, overflowing with small blue flowers. You’re not entirely sure, but you think they might be forget-me-nots. He pulls a single flower from the bunch and tucks it, carefully, into the collar of his coat, as though for safekeeping.

He nods once, satisfactorily, and stands slowly, giving a small bow in your direction before he turns and shuffles back down the alleyway, the bushel of blue flowers peeking over his shoulder, rustling in the breeze.

Just before he is swallowed by the shadows at the far end of the Close, you call out, “Thank you! Again. For . . . for everything.”

It’s certainly just a trick of the light, but when he turns back to look at you, just before the shadows overtake him, you swear you can see the light catch on a single, twinkling eye, crinkled in one corner by what must be a smile.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes

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kiribaku-queen · 3 years

Note

Hiii congratulation for 1000 followers! U deserve it! So i was thinking of bakugou!prohero a reader where he's always busy and always hv this photoshoot with these hot models or hot pro hero that made reader feel left out. And the last straw was when a newly magazine publish of him kissing other girls cheek (or mouth) (u do u;)) and thats when they had a bad fight that caused reader to run away. I would like it to be heavy angst with a happy ending. I love angst but after a heavy angst i like a happy ending to soothe my heart 😂 if u do choose this, gudluck!

Blinded by the Fame

Angst

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Thank you so so much for this request! I was actually so excited to do this piece because I already had an idea I wanted to use and this scenario was PERFECTO~! So painful yet so good!

Thank you for the congratulations and I hope this request met your needs! Please let me know your thoughts!

Who said dating an upcoming hero was going to be easy? It certainly wasn’t easy, not in the slightest. You definitely had hard days. There were times when it got so difficult that you wanted to quit. But was loving the hero worth it and fulfilling? Absolutely.

Bakugou Katsuki was the love of your life. Relationships were never easy. Couples always have obstacles and challenges they have to overcome. Even when you were in tears, screaming at each other at the top of your lungs, even if you gave each other the cold shoulder the entire week, nothing could replace the warmth that was Bakugou’s arms. You would never much refuse his touch every tine, but that wouldn’t stop Bakugou from having you in his arms every night, whispering sweet nothings in your ears despite all the things he said prior. And you would forgive him. Of course you would. How could you not?

But being with a rising hero came with bearing a lot of burden that you had to keep to yourself. You didn’t like how he was working all the time. You didn’t like how he came home bruised up, sometimes not even going to the hospital if it means not being able to see you for the night. You couldn’t bare seeing him like that. But that was part of his job and that was never going to change. So no matter how much you absolutely hated the sight, you let him do his hero work because that was what he loved to do. You couldn’t interfere with his dreams of becoming the number one hero.

But the thing that itched you the most was when Bakugou was forced to promotional shoots to get his name out there. The memory of when he first started made you laugh. Being the Bakugou that he was, he flat-out refused to do it. He didn’t like getting his picture taken. He’ll dress up once in a while, and when he does it’s real clean, but he wasn’t a fan of constantly dressing up. But when he finally let go and tried it once, he saw how much fan votes and popularity he was getting and eventually, would do more here and there.

And you didn’t mind if the shoots were by himself, but most of the time, they were with other pro-heroes or very attractive models. And that you feel insecure. How could it not? Your boyfriend getting close to other women while you looked nothing like these women? You didn’t have the body, the face, the money, or the fame these women brought to the table. You would never admit it, but you hated when other women were in the picture. And you hated when one of the women would be touching him. It left a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. You were so sure that he was going to leave you for one of them. But he proved his love by dropping down on one knee with the most gorgeous ring.

“Come with me to the shoot,” Bakugou proposed but you hesitated.

“I can just meet you at the restaurant,” you decided. The mention of being on set for one of his photoshoots seemed like a bad idea.

“I want to go together. It won’t even take long. One hour tops,” he swore and brought you by the waist, your body flushed against him. He takes your face in his hands and gently puts your foreheads together.

“I know you’ve been wanting to go to this restaurant forever. Let’s go together,” he whispers and you couldn’t help but fall for that voice over and over again.

“Okay,” you whispered back. He smiles at you, places a small kiss to your forehead, then your lips, before taking your hand to lead you to the car.

The set of the shoot was intimidating. People were running around everywhere, cameras were set in all positions, lights were blinding and hot, the space just looked so busy. And you felt like you didn’t belong. But Bakugou was so used to this kind of scene. He leads you to where the photographer and the director were talking.

“Ah, Pro-Hero Dynamite, you made it!” the director greeted your boyfriend. “Your stylist is in the next room. Go ahead and get changed and we’ll get started.” Bakugou nodded and turned to you.

“I’ll be right back,” Bakugou said and kissed you on the forehead. You watched as your boyfriend disappeared in the sea of people and then you were left all alone.

This was fine. You would just wait in the back patiently for him to be done. And then you two could enjoy a nice evening out at that fancy restaurant you’ve always been wanting to try. Just relax. You closed your eyes and took deep, but slow breaths. There was nothing to get worked up over. Afterall, it looked like Bakugou was doing this shoot by himself.

But you spoke too soon. Bakugou had appeared from the dressing room, looking all dashing and handsome. You felt your heart skip again. He was wearing a red shirt that was unbuttoned to the third button, exposing his broad and muscular chest. Over, he wore a black jacket with leather gloves and pants. His hair was styled slightly back, forehead showing. He was mesmerizing to look at. But shortly after his appearance, two women walked out behind him. Two gorgeous, fit, and slim women who wore skin tight, elegant dresses were doing the shoot with him. And for some reason, your heart began to hurt. The pang in your heart was constant that you had to beat at your chest to calm yourself down.

They were beautiful. And you had recognized one of the women: Pro-hero Miruko. You knew their history together. Bakugou had worked under Miruko during his school days and eventually worked along side with her after he graduated. You knew she was a flirt. She flirted with everybody. And that was fine, until she got alittle too touchy with your boyfriend. And that bothered you. But Bakugou was so used to her behavior that he didn’t even notice.

You couldn’t say anything. They are old time friends and co-workers. What? Are you supposed to say that he can’t be friends with her anymore just because you didn’t like it? And then you would look like the possessive girlfriend? You were fine with him being friends with other women, but they did make you nervous. Nervous because all the women he’s surrounded by are so unbelievably good looking, it put you to shame. Why would he want to be with you when he could have all these women to choose from?

But you tried to shake these negative thoughts away and playfully tugged at the ring on your ringer. There was a reason why he chose you. There was a reason why he gave you this ring. You shouldn’t think this way. But you couldn’t help it. You tried not to let it bother you, but in the end, it did. It really did. It bothered you so much that you couldn’t stop fidgeting.

You watched at Bakugou sat on the couch with both women on each side of him. His arms were lounging on the back of the couch while one girl sat next to him and Miruko stood behind him. Looking at his facial expressions, he didn’t seem interested in any of the girls. Which is a good sign?

And so the shoot started. Nothing else could be heard besides music playing in the background and the loud click of the camera. Everyone else was watching the shoot take place. Everything looked okay so far. Their outfits were scandalous but nothing scandalous was happening. The only directions the models were given was to look sexily at the camera. Bakugou delivered that perfectly with his go-to signature look. But now the photographer wanted more.

“Can the two women get a little closer, please?” the photographer asked and put his camera up to his face once more. The girls did what they were told and Bakugou didn’t even flinch. But you were growing nervous. There was more skin happening, more touching and it was making you uncomfortable. You gasped when you saw Miruko grab Bakugou by his chin to lift to towards her direction. Then she leans in, her lips ghosting over his ever so slightly, like they were about to kiss. Tears were spilling out and your cheeks heated up in anger until you finally exploded.

“Stop!” you yelled, stopping all production. Heads from all around turned to you. Mirko looked at you shocked and Bakugou was wide eyed with curiosity and concern. You gripped the handle of the purse that was slung around your shoulder, feeling anxious now that everyone was looking at you.

“Sorry, give me one moment,” Bakugou apologized to the staff. He got up, rushing towards you. He takes your hand and brings you in the dressing room. The door slammed shut and Bakugou turns to you in a huff.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hissed. With tears streaming down your face, you were shocked by his reaction. But you were going to stand your ground.

“I don’t like how she was touching you,” you say.

“It’s my job,” he sighs in exasperation.

“Well she should learn her boundaries, whether it’s a job or not. And if you respected me at all, you would tell her no,” you stated firmly. But all Bakugou did was roll his eyes.

“You’re overreacting.” You scoff and it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m overreacting? Is it wrong that I don’t like when other women are touching you?” you started to raise your voice and talk back.

“Do I have to say it again? It’s my job. If I’m going to make it big, I have to do it. What? You think I like her? You think I was going to let her kiss me? It’s just for the pictures. Geez, how sensitive can you get?” he stabbed you right in a sensitive topic. You stayed silent because you weren’t expecting him to say that. The moment you think he’s going to stop there, he keeps going.

“I might need to save lots of women who are in danger. What? You don’t want me touching them? You’re going to get jealous because I’ll have some stranger in my arms? You’re afraid that she’s going to cling to me for dear life because I’m saving her? You don’t like that?!” he was practically screaming now.

“No! I don’t like that!” you screamed right back, giving back the same amount of energy. The tension in the air was so thick, anyone could feel it. Hell, they were all listening from outside and they felt uncomfortable with the ambiance of the situation. Both parties’ chests were heaving up and down from the labored breathing. And you just glared at each other. Bakugou turns away from you, breaking the ice.

“Fine. If you’re going to be this jealous, then maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together,” he said. That was it. That was when your heart broke into a million pieces. You felt like if you stood there any longer, you would have suffocated.

“Fine,” you whisper. He doesn’t even spare you a glance. With teary eyes and a heavy heart, you tighten your jaw as you take off your engagement ring, wiggling it off your finger and then setting it down on the counter beside you. The sound of the metal hitting the hard desk was loud enough for Bakugou to hear, but he still chose not to turn to you. You thought that maybe, just maybe, if he turned around and said he didn’t mean it, then you would have been okay. You would have forgave him for those mean things he said. And then you would have apologized to him. But he looked set on his decision.

Without another word, you turned around and sped out of that building, tears never stopping. Everyone saw you go. Miruko laid her sad eyes on you and her broke for you. Shortly after, Bakugou walks back to the couch, plopping down with a huff.

“Let’s continue,” he says begrudgingly. But nobody moves, still shell-shocked about yousr argument. But this causes Bakugou to explode.

“Are you not going to start? Let’s get on with it!!” he hollers and everyone rushes like mice to get back to production. Bakugou lets out a long sigh, face in a permanent frown.

Miruko sits on the back of the couch and looks down at her old friend. She could tell that he was hurting just as much as you, if not more.

“Idiot~” Miruko sang.

“Ha?” Bakugou glared up at his past mentor. Mirko looked at her nails, not paying mind to the hot head who was on the verge of exploding.

“You need to go apologize,” she told him, more like ordered him to.

“Like it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t take her feelings into consideration,” Miruko pointed out, silencing Bakugou on the spot. “If she was feeling a little jealous, then her feelings are totally valid. You need to do something about it and make her feel like she doesn’t need to worry about anything.” Bakugou was only getting more annoyed.

“Whatever. It’s just business. If she can’t understand that, then we don’t need to be together,” he tried to convince himself. But that only hurt himself more.

“Whatever my ass. Then if you can’t be a good boyfriend and comfort her instead of making her feel insecure, then she doesn’t need you. She can find a better man who treats her good.”

“I do treat her good,” Right?

“Oh yes, I can tell,” Miruko said sarcastically. But in all seriousness, she knew he was hurting and she was trying to give advice from a woman’s perspective, but he is so stubborn and hard-headed that he doesn’t want to admit that he was in the wrong.

“Look, you let her go home like that right now, you’re not going to get her back. Go after her,” she advices on a serious note. Bakugou takes a moment to think but it’s all too much. He ruffles his hair and shoots up from the couch.

“Fuck this shit. I’m not doing this anymore,” he announces and storms out of the building. But not before shoving the metal jewelry in his pant pocket.

You didn’t know where you were going. You just walked and walked until you wind up somewhere. And god, you were so hungry. But you couldn’t go to that fancy restaurant that Bakugou had already made reservations for. God forbid he walks in while you were eating. And with another woman? How embarrassing. You couldn’t use his name or his fame anymore. You didn’t want to go back home. What if he shows up at your place? It probably wasn’t likely. He said he was done with you. You left the ring back with him. You guys were over. He wouldn’t show up uninvited. He has no reason to. You didn’t have money on you. You didn’t have any mode of transportation. The only think you had was your phone but the battery can only last so long. So you continued on walking until you hit a park and sat down on one of the benches. You were left alone to bathe in your thoughts until the set sun.

“Where the fuck did she go?” Bakugou mumbled to himself. He checked all the alleyways, in between streets, high and low, but he couldn’t spot you. No matter how he was frustrated he was feeling, he started to get nervous. He wondered if you were okay and safe right now. You hadn’t eaten all day. Wait. There’s no way…

“Hi. Reservation for 2. Under Bakugou,” Bakugou told the hostess. He arrived at the restaurant, in hopes that you came in. But when the hostess said that you hadn’t shown up, his shoulders deflated. Back to square one. So if you weren’t here, then where were you? Had you eaten yet?

Trying his luck, he went to your apartment, but after many attempts, you didn’t open the door. You could either by ignoring him or you weren’t home yet. Knowing you, you probably weren’t home. Then he was going to wait until you came home. Taking a seat next to your door, Bakugou waited. And he was going to wait until he could see your face.

You watched as happy couples and families walked by you, having the time of their lives. You smiled sadly seeing all their smiles and laughter. How you wish you could be like that. But now you don’t even know if or when that was going to be possible. That was all you wanted. Was to be happy. You didn’t want to be in this rabbit hole of sadness. You didn’t want anybody to pity you just because you were crying. But you did long for somebody to listen to you. For somebody to tell you that it was going to be okay and that you are loved. Love… You wanted someone to love you. He just wasn’t the one for you. Then who is? Will you ever find it? Was this your only chance and you ruined it all just because you couldn’t help but feel jealous?

Stupid.

Stupid (y/n).

You always ruin everything in your life. The one time you got something good, it’s gone in an instant. You knew it was too good to be true. But there’s no going back now. It already happened and now you have to move on.

By the time you noticed, the sun had already set and darkness fell upon you. You wanted to stay longer. You debated whether or not you were going to sleep on the park bench. But after recalling new articles of kidnappings happening around the country recently, you decided to go home.

It took you a while to go home. You walked as slow as you could, taking your sweet time returning back to your apartment. All you want to do is snuggle up in bed and go to sleep. You were so exhausted. Mentally, physically and emotionally. You just needed some rest and then you can worry more in the morning. You were coming up to your apartment and saw a person sitting on the floor what looked like in front of your apartment door. No. But there’s no way.

Blonde hair.

That was all it took for you to turn back, go down those stairs and back to the park. You couldn’t face him right now. You were already broken up so why was he there? He said all he needed to say so why was he there?

You thought you were being sneaky but Bakugou caught you. He saw you going back down those stairs and he immediately got up and chased after you.

“(y/n)!” he called out to you but you ignored him. The sound of his voice made your heart clench.

“(y/n)!” he called again, but louder. Again, you continued to ignore him.

“(y/n)!” he called for the last time, this time grabbing your arm. But you shook him as fast as he grabbed you.

“No, leave me alone,” you managed to say. Just keep on walking. Maybe if you walk long and far enough, he’ll give up. But he wasn’t giving up.

“(y/n), stop!” he grabbed you again, yet this time tighter so you couldn’t escape. Then he traps you in between him and the wall, forcing you to face him.

“Stop! Let me go! Leave me alone!” you cry. Your tear stained face and puffy eyes broke Bakugou’s heart. He did this to you. Fuck. He was the worst. You thrashed around, forcing him to let go, hitting him to push him away. Anything so he could get away from you.

Bakugou let you hit him. He deserved it. Every hit that you take at him, he deserved. Slowly but surely, he pulled you in for a hug. You were so drained that you let him. And as soon as you were in his embrace and your cheek hit his chest, you cried. You let it all out and didn’t stop. Bakugou didn’t say anything. He just held you, patting your head until you calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He kissed the top of your head and rested his head there. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He continued to say. Your cries were muffled by being buried in his chest.

You held onto him tight, continuing to cry your heart out. You thought you were never going to see him again. You thought you were never going to hold him again. Or smell him. You world was crashing down on you but was slowly being put together again.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asks you softly. Your voice was too hoarse and sore from all the crying, so you nodded your head, not letting go of him. Bakugou got the hint and picked you up princess style and led you into the house. There was going to be a lot of talking happening soon in that tiny apartment. It was going to be a long night.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou imagine #bnha imagine #bakugou angst #1000+ follower event

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sukisdeliveryservice · 3 years

Note

hello!! could i kindly request for a student campus crush! wonwoo hehe and you’re best friends and have unrequited feelings but u dont know if he feels the same so over a sleepover u tried confessing and you can continue from there hehe -🐼

let me hear you say | j. ww

✎ pairing: best friend!wonwoo x female reader

✎ genre: collegel!au, friends to lovers!au, mostly fluff

✎ warnings: none!

✎ wc: 2.40 k words

✎ notes: hi 🐼 anon! i got a little carried away with this one because soft, cuddly wonwoo makes my stomach do flips but i hope you like it! i'm not sure how i feel about my portrayal of yn here because i wanted them to be really supportive of wonwoo but kind of having a hard time because of their feelings towards him. i hope i was able to express that without portraying them as kind of eh :/

“Don’t you ever get tired?” You take a quick glance at your best friend as he folds up another piece of paper with a phone number written on it.

“Of what?”

“Of everyone in this school falling head over heels for you,” You say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, proceeding to look back down at your notes. In reality, you were trying to prevent yourself from looking at the cute (albeit, confused) way your best friend was staring at you over your abrupt question.

“Well I can’t say I’m not flattered, but there aren’t really that many people yn,”

A total lie, you think to yourself. Every time you two walked around campus, your best friend attracted the adoring stares of all your classmates like some hotshot celebrity. Yes, he was popular, and yes, he totally deserved it, but if everyone knew how dorky he was, maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to hand him their number after a single conversation.

Another lie, if everyone knew what a nerd Jeon Wonwoo actually was, they’d probably fall for him harder. You would know of course, first hand experience taught you a lot of things.

It taught you how endearing it was when Wonwoo wore oversized clothing, so that he could pull the sleeves over his palms when sipping on a hot drink at the local campus cafe. It made you realize his habit of pushing his glasses up his nose, because he was too stubborn to get the bridge adjusted. It made your insides melt whenever he was nervous because he had a habit of fiddling with his fingers. You were certain that if anyone was completely head over heels and absolutely smitten by him, it was definitely you.

“Not many people my ass,” you scoffed, “you spoke to her once, just once! And now you are holding her number.” Wonwoo laughs at your poor attempt at hiding your annoyance, “For your information, we were talking about a group project, and exchanging contact information. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

You gave a little huff before going back to pretend-studying, you definitely couldn’t focus when he was sitting right across from you. You knew you were more prone to jumping to conclusions nowadays, and you hoped that Wonwoo didn’t notice your shift in behaviour. In reality, you couldn’t help but feel a little pang of worry whenever your best friend was asked out on another date. And while he rejected the offer every time, you worried that one day he might say yes and you could lose him forever.

Not that you were against Wonwoo falling in love someday. If he found a good person that he wanted to be with for the rest of his life, you would support him in a heartbeat. It was just the selfish feeling that blossomed in your chest that prevented you from feeling any true happiness for these kinds of situations, and you hated it.

You knew that he would never abandon you completely, because Wonwoo was the best friend you could ever ask for. But you also knew that it would kill you inside to see him sweep someone else off their feet.

You’ve known Wonwoo since high school, and you definitely harboured a puppy crush on him all of first year. This was back when he was still trading pokemon cards in the gym stairwell and poking at you to buy him something from the milk vending machine. The crush went away eventually and you found yourself enjoying the rest of your high school career with your closest confidant by your side.

Once you both entered university, Wonwoo had a sudden growth spurt that now put him a total head taller than you. He no longer lurked at the stairwells during lunch and instead made lots of new friends that he went out for coffee with. He started dressing nicer, and once he exchanged his old glasses for a pair of round silver ones that rested on his nose so perfectly, he instantly transformed into someone straight out of a kdrama.

Now, you have caught feelings again. And you’re scared to admit that this time a puppy crush doesn’t even encapsulate everything you’ve been feeling lately. Of course Wonwoo’s sudden change in appearance didn’t spark anything new in your feelings towards him. It was the fact that he had a new air around him that was just completely different.

Wonwoo in high school was shy, and you loved him for who he was. You two had your own small circle of friends and you would spend all your time reading or playing games in his bedroom. Wonwoo in college however, was breaking out of his shell and being the first to approach people and make new friends. He was still introverted of course, shyness and introvertedness were two different things after all. But you were proud to see Wonwoo take the initiative to make plans more often and reach out.

Wonwoo has also gotten a lot more comfortable around you. He’s grown fond of resting his head on your shoulder after a long day of classes, and wrapping you in his sweaters whenever you came by his flat. In conclusion, everything about university student Wonwoo, was driving you, (and probably the entire campus) crazy.

“Hello? yn? Don’t you have a class soon?”

You swat away the hand that was waving in front of your face to meet the eyes of the cause of all your heart troubles. One smile from Wonwoo and you were in shambles. You had it really, really bad. “Right, right, sorry I was just...distracted.”

“We’re still on for tonight right? You can just head straight to my dorm after your last class.”

“Of course Won, did you really think I was going to miss out on another rewatch of Extraordinary You?”

“Of course not,” Wonwoo chuckled. You were met with another one of those soft gazes from him, and you immediately tried to break your stare. Something in your heart tells you that you should just confess right now, and that Wonwoo was a sensible individual who wouldn’t let go of your friendship if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Hey Won, can I tell you something after class later?”

“Of course.” There was that smile again. If you weren’t so busy trying to slow your heart rate down, you would have caught the way his eyes brightened at hearing your question, and the way he looked down to twindle with his fingers.

You give Wonwoo your own smile before heading off to your last detour of the day.

Sleepovers with Wonwoo always consisted of a mountain of blankets, a never ending pile of snacks and a show to watch before eventually both of you fell asleep. When you arrived at his flat just as he was adding the finishing touches to a home cooked dinner, you realized that sleepovers with Wonwoo also consisted of another thing: Your tragic inability to keep your heart rate down.

“Dinner will be ready in a bit, you can just wash up and get changed for now,” Wonwoo turns to greet you before adding some pepper to the tteokbokki.

You nod and head over to his bathroom, where you already find your change of clothes resting on the counter. Any outsider would have been under the impression that you and Wonwoo lived together, considering that pieces of you were scattered all over his apartment. From the matching toothbrushes that were kept by the sink, to the drawer reserved only for your clothes in his bedroom.

The only reason that you and Wonwoo didn’t room together upon entering university, was the fact that your parents were wary of you rooming with a boy you weren’t even dating. Not that it mattered now, considering that you at least spent two nights at his place away from your own dorm.

After you showered and changed into your pajamas, you realized that Wonwoo had given you one of his sweaters to wear, instead of the usual shirts you slept in. Usually you would have raided his bedroom after dinner to steal one (you slept much better when you wore his clothing) but this time it appeared that he had taken the initiative for you.

Once you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw that Wonwoo was already sitting at the dining table and was on his phone. It looked like he was texting someone, and you felt your heart sink a little when he laughed at a message. No, you are not going to be jealous. You are going to be happy for your friend because he deserves all the happiness in the world.

“Is that the girl from your group project?” You sat down across from him and started piling the tteokbokki and rice onto your plate. “Yeah, she said that the professor just sent out a mass email to our class, saying that we were going to be given an extension. Turns out that email was meant for another course, but everyone is already celebrating the new deadline.”

Wonwoo shuts off his phone and turns to you, “Was there something you wanted to tell me today?”

Right. You were going to confess your feelings. It was now or never, and you weren’t sure if you could hold it in much longer. “I can just tell you after dinner, I’m starving.”

Tragic. Tragic. Tragic. Why couldn’t you just say the words, “Hey Won, I have feelings for you, do you feel the same way?” Must you be in a spiraling paradox of questioning the presence of unrequited love in the relationship you had with your best friend? Yes, most definitely yes. Since the world likes to make everything difficult for those in love.

Dinner was eaten in a comfortable silence for the most part. You liked that you never felt the need to fill the air with more conversation whenever you were with Wonwoo. There were days where you would just sit in each other’s presence and do your own thing, and those days left you with lots of time to ponder on your feelings for him. Tonight was the night that you were going to say these feelings aloud for the first time...you just needed a bit more time to procrastinate.

After you both finished your food, you relocated yourselves to the couch. You fidgeted with the end of your (his) sweater while Wonwoo searched for the show on Netflix. You figured that you would let him know in the morning, since there was a chance that you two would fall asleep before the episode ended. And you didn’t want to confess beforehand either, in fear of having to endure a brutal one hour of awkward tension if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Who would have thought that out of all the days the wifi could have chosen to bail on us, they chose the day where we were going to find out whether Haru belonged to Dan-oh’s story or not,” Wonwoo fiddles with the remote some more, while you panic in silence at the thought of spending the night with no distractions from your feelings.

“It’s not like we don’t already know how it ends,” You take deep quiet breaths to calm yourself down, you can definitely make it through the night, “We can just do other things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

You couldn’t answer him right away. The only thing you had on your mind was the fact that Wonwoo’s hand was now resting on your knee and that it was baffling how good he could look in pajamas. Wonwoo, sensing your inability to form words nervously glanced up at you before moving the conversation in a different direction, “Look, I know you had something to tell me today yn, but I realized that I wanted to share something with you too. I am in love-”

“I am in love with you Jeon Wonwoo!”

There. You blurted out a long-awaited confession before the anticipation consumed you whole. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your hands in fear of seeing the look on Wonwoo’s face.

“Let me hear you say it again.”

“What?” You turn to Wonwoo, who no longer looked nervous. Instead, he wore the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that made you want to both kiss and strangle him. “Say it again.”

“Not when you look like you just won the lottery you nerd, you didn’t even say-”

“I am in love with you too yn.”

Well, you were never one to complain about the fact that your feelings were returned. But the way Wonwoo was cooing at your adorable expression of shock only made you want to shove him off the couch.

Which you proceeded to do.

“Hey! Aren’t you happy that I like you too?”

“Of course I’m happy! You didn’t have to try to beat me to my confession though, tonight was going to be my night!”

“You didn’t seem like you were going to say anything for the rest of the evening! You were going to wait until the next day weren’t you?”

Absolutely yes. “No!”

Any remaining tension in the atmosphere washed away as you and Wonwoo made fun of each other on the living room floor. You were beyond relieved and a little giddy that your best friend in the whole wide world saw you in the way that you saw him.

“But on a more serious note Won, were you also going to confess tonight too?”

“Actually no, but once you came out of the washroom wearing my sweater, I just had to say it before I tackled you with cuddles or something.”

“You gave me your sweater instead of my clothes to wear!”

“I know!” Wonwoo was holding your hand now and rubbing circles into your palm. The idea of cuddling the entire night didn’t sound so bad. “But you looked all nervous and shy and I was hoping that you were going to be the one to say something first.”

“Can we just agree that we confessed at the same time?” As the adrenaline from the confession began to slip away you suddenly became very tired, and you were hoping to just spend the night in the arms of your favourite person.

“Deal. So can we cuddle now?”

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #wonwoo #chanberriees request #chanberriees fic #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x male reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #bisexual steve harrington #bi steve harrington

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artzee-bee · 3 years

Text

Popularity is overrated anyways | Rory Keaner x gn!popular!reader

Fandom: My babysitter’s a vampire

Request: “ Hello! Your writing is so amazing, truly! Could you write Rory x Gn!Popular!Reader in which the reader falls hard and so they try flirting and try to impress him? I think that would be an interesting dynamic to explore cause I usually see things going the other way around. No need to take this request if you don't want to write it of course! Have a great day/night<33 “

Pronouns: none specified

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

~~~

The first time you saw Rory was in art class. It was your first day and you were somewhat nervous, but he walked in as if he owned the place. He yelled "Good morning gays, gals and pals" with this kind hearted smile and you couldn't help but laugh at how comfortable he was around here. How he seemed to be at home.

At the end of class, you decided to walk up to him, say hello. At the very least learn his name, except by the time you were done packing your things, he was gone. You felt a little lost looking at the empty seat he sat in just a moment ago but you were already dead set on getting to know the blonde kid better.

Since then, you've made lots of friends, partly due to you joining the photography club, which was pretty well known around the school. You were also best friends with the star of the football team which sure gave you a big boost on the popularity chart, not that you cared. Even with your newfound attention, you still felt like you were a little behind Rory. You'd see him every week in art class, always cracking a joke, making you and everyone else around him laugh. You often saw him hanging out with the same 2 brown haired boys and you couldn't help the jealousy you were feeling, so eventually you decided you've had enough. You were going to get closer to Rory!

The perfect opportunity snuck up on you one Friday, when you saw Rory eating lunch in the cafeteria alone. You excused yourself from your friends, making your way instead towards the blonde

"Is this seat open?" you said motioning to the seat right in front of him

"Yeah!" he replied with a bright smile, as if he was more than excited that you wanted to sit with him "I'm Rory!"

You sat down and gave him your name in return. From where you were sitting, you could see your friends.They were sitting around their usual table, glaring at you as if they couldn't understand what you could possibly be doing there, instead of by them. In fact, mostly everyone in the cafeteria was now watching you and Rory with judging looks. You knew Rory wasn't the most popular person in school, but you also didn't care. For what it's worth, he seemed to be a lot cooler than any other "popular" kid you knew.

"Is that a V for Vendetta pin on your shirt?" he asked, reaching over to touch the little handmade pin you had. You felt his fingertips press into your collarbone and sucked in a deep breath, suddenly shy at the unexpected contact

"Yeah! I made it myself out of an old coin a while back!"

"That's so cool! I used to make pins out of beer bottle caps when I was little! I didn't actually drink the beer, I would sneak the caps from my parents at family events!" you giggled. You barely knew the boy and yet this seemed like such a ‘him’ thing to do

"And how did you make them?"

For the entire lunch break, you sat next to Rory, listening to him talk about his pins and his favorite comic books, which just so happened to match a lot of your favorites. You were more than excited by finding out that you had a lot in common. You liked the same bands and the same movies. He was full of stories about the supernatural and you have always been passionate about that kind of stuff.

You always knew you kinda fancied the blonde boy and you weren’t ashamed of that, but now, actually being with him, talking to him, connecting with him, the feeling of butterflies in your stomach was almost insufferable.His mere presence was making you dizzy. He was so cute and his smile was worth millions. You loved listening to him talk and seeing his bright eyes sparkle with joy, but than the bell rang and you had to leave for your next class

"I had fun talking to you Rory!”

"Thank you, you're really cool, we should hang out more!" he said, making you blush

From that point on, you and Rory were much closer. You would hang out during school hours usually, which bummed you out, since you really saw Rory as more than a ‘convenience’ friend that you got along with simply because you saw each other almost everyday. You wished you could get closer to him, get to know him more intimately, but you didn’t want to push him into anything. The week after your first real interaction, Rory came to sit next to you in art. You were too engulfed in the video you were watching on your phone to notice when he walked in, but he made sure to make his presence known by wrapping his arms around you from behind

"Hi friend!" he said in a sing-song voice that made you giggle. He dragged his chair as close to you as he could, so you 2 could whisper to each other during class. Now, being so close to him, you could hear each of his sarcastic jokes and clueless questions better, each one making you laugh and smile. At times, he would lean into you to whisper something in your ear and you could feel his breath on your skin, sending shivers through your entire body.

One thing you learned about Rory during art class was just how competitive he was. Each class turned into a game of seeing who was the better artist. You weren't a huge fan of drawing, but you gave it your everything knowing that Rory was going to study your picture. He never said anything bad about it, he was too nice for that, but with each drawing you tried to impress him more and more.

Eventually, one day, you noticed Rory heading out of the school and decided to quickly followed him out

"Hey Rors! Wait up!!"

"Hey Y/N, wazzap?" he said in the funny voice he always made, making you smile

"All is good. I just had a question for you"

"Ok, shoot!"

"Are you free Saturday?" the boy looked at you with a confused smile

"I think so, yes. Why?"

"Would you like to go to the movies with me?"

"Yeah! That sounds awesome!! Who's coming?" his eyes were bright with excitement, only making you more nervous

"I mean...I was thinking it could be just the 2 of us..."

"Just us?"

"Yeah, you know. Like a date..."

"A date?"

"Yeah"

"With me?"

"I mean if you want to, I'm not..."

"I would love to!" he smiled

"You-You would?"

"Yeah, sounds awesome!"

"Ok, um, great! Can I get your number so I can text you the details?"

On your way home, you held the little piece of paper with Rory's number in your closed fist, your face hot from excitement and happiness. God, you could barely wait for Saturday!

#mbav #mbav x reader #rory keaner #rory keaner x reader #rory keaner fluff #rory keaner imagine

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 17.3k

Genre: College AU, strangers to lovers, slice of life, mostly fluff

Warnings & Tags: discussed insecurities, alcohol consumption, reader almost has a panic attack at some point, shy jungkook, jungkook is bad at Feelings, Reader is bad at feelings too, mutual pining kinda, Jungkook has long hair, sfw, New Year’s Day themed.

A/N: I don’t know how I would name my stories without Taylor Swift. Anyway, this is more or less centered around the New Year (it was supposed to be more and then... it didn’t happen), and I hope you’ll enjoy it! Happy New Year everyone!

The first time you hear Jungkook’s name, it’s in the sentence “Man, is there anything Jungkook can’t do?”. You look up at your friend Jin from the book you’re studying. You have no idea who Jungkook is, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jin is always complaining about how you don’t know anyone on the campus, which you think is quite unfair.

…but then you really don’t know that many people on the campus.

“What’s going on?” you ask him, because he sounds extremely annoyed, and he shows you his phone. On it, there is a score for a basketball game. You think.

Your college is famous for its basketball team… Right?

“Uh-uh,” you still say with a nod, trying to make it look like you have any idea what you’re talking about.

“This kid is crushing it at school, the girls love him, and now this!” Jin complains, a little too loud, and shushing noises come from a spot behind you. You turn around to give the group an apologetic look. “I really shouldn’t have bet against him.”

Ah, there you know what to say.

“You really need to stop making bets. You never win them.”

Jin glares at you.

“And you are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to comfort me!”

“I’ll comfort you when you stop making the worst choices imaginable,” you mutter, going back to your work. Jungkook’s name, his supposed excellence, and that basketball match — if it even is basketball — leave your mind as fast as they entered it, without leaving a trace behind.

“So the school’s won another basketball game, huh?”

You look up at Namjoon who’s just arriving to the table, holding his tray in his hands. You know he can’t possibly be talking to you about that, so you’re not surprised when Jin appears behind him. That doesn’t stop you from throwing Namjoon a disgusted look.

“Really, Joon? Sports?”

Namjoon shoots you an amused glance from behind his glasses. It’s notorious in your friends’ group that you despise conversations around that subject. You hate anything that involves objects flying around and anything that’s played in a team, and, apparently, those are the only sports that people care about. They could discuss athletics, or swimming, which you wouldn’t enjoy but you wouldn’t hate, but that never happens.

“You were right, Jin. That Jungkook guy really is impressive.”

You tune them out. You don’t care about basketball.

“You’re talking about yesterday’s game?” Yoongi asks, coming out of thin air, and you sigh. You had been hoping you would have at least one person to talk to during lunch.

“Jungkook’s friends with Hoseok,” Jin says, leaning forward conspiratorially, which does get your attention. If that’s true, then that Jungkook guy can’t be a completely terrible person. Hoseok is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

That being said, he might have very low standards for his friends. You know him enough to appreciate him, not to judge his tastes.

“So I’m going to become friends with him,” Jin announces triumphantly, only to be rewarded by a chorus of groans and protests.

“But why, Jin?” you ask. “Please don’t talk about popularity. This isn’t high school anymore.”

“And that stuff was already stupid back then,” Namjoon adds, and you nod. You can always count on Namjoon to support you.

“And I hate people,” Yoongi says.

“And Yoongi hates people!” Namjoon immediately picks up. “Do you really want to make him go through that?”

You grin at the question. Yoongi’s misanthropy always comes in handy. Jin, however, is not amused, but he just shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s used to the three of you teaming up against him by now. Usually, it’s on academical subjects, but he isn’t phased by it anymore regardless of that. Not that there’s much that can phase Jin anyway.

“First of all, I said I was going to be his friend, not you lowly peasants, and second, he seems like a nice guy! Do I need another reason to want to make friends?”

You tilt your head.

“He’s protesting too much,” you say.

“I agree,” Namjoon nods. “That’s suspicious.”

“Very suspicious.”

“Come on,” Jin rolls his eyes, “do you really think that little of me?”

“And now he’s trying to guilt-trip us. Joon, can’t you analyze that conversation and figure out what it all means?”

“You know that’s not how literary analysis works, right?” Jin asks you, but you ignore him.

“Actually, it is,” Namjoon says, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’d say you were right with your comment,” he adds, looking at you. “I’d say… this is about parties.”

“You’re not going to actually believe��”

“Thanks, Joon,” you say, and the two of you high-five without looking at each other. Yoongi lets out an appreciate whistle.

Even if Namjoon and you aren’t being serious about this, parties actually make sense. Jin… isn’t quite a social butterfly but, unlike the three of you, he does enjoy people’s company to some degree. You know first hand that he’s been to a few this year — you had accompanied him for moral support — but they were pretty tame, and you’re aware that he at least wants to try some more intense stuff. The problem was that those were harder to be invited to. Hoseok could probably do something about it, but he tends to avoid parties on campus.

“Okay, then you should go for it,” you nod.

Yoongi and Namjoon, sitting on either side of you, approve. Jin looks a little surprised at your reaction.

“That changed your mind?”

“You said you wanted ‘the full college experience’,” Namjoon explains with a shrug. “If you think that’s part of it, we wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“We will judge you for it, though,” Yoongi warns without batting an eyelid, pokerface perfect, and you laugh. You won’t be mean about it, of course. You just might tease him a little.

“Thank you,” Jin says. “I’ll do it, then.”

Good. If you’re lucky, it will be out of his system next time you all have lunch together.

Lady luck had never been on your side, for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t like you got the worst of things either, but usually, things that could go wrong, did go wrong. Because of that, you tried your best to remove those things from your path. Sometimes, though, you just didn’t manage to identify them.

And that’s why, when you hear Jin’s voice and look up from your food, being the first at the table as always, you see he’s accompanied by two people.

One of them has fluffy, dark brown hair, falling on either side of his face and in his eyes. He’s talking and laughing, and there’s something that you can’t help but identify as mischievous in his smile. The other is slightly taller, with jet black hair held up in a bun. He’s quiet, mouth opening for silent laughs when his friend jokes. Between them, there’s Jin, and you think that they look good together. All handsome, all holding themselves with confidence.

You had realized before that Jin felt out of place in your group, from an outside point of view at least, but it’s never been as striking as it is now, as he’s walking with people he clearly belongs with.

It makes you really thankful that he’s your friend.

“Hey,” Jin says, smiling widely, “these are—”

“You’re untying your hair before eating?” you say, looking at the guy with the bun who just sat opposite from you and took off his hair tie with a sigh. He looks up at you with wide round eyes, like you just caught him red-handed — doing what, you’re not quite sure.

That is the first thing you ever say to Jeon Jungkook.

“Um. Yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get hair in your food?”

You know people find you too blunt sometimes, think you come off as aggressive, but you almost never intend for that to happen. In that case, you just think the logic here is a bit surprising.

“That’s… a good point, actually.”

“(Y/N),” Jin sighs, “let me introduce you to Jungkook” (he points to the man who’s now tying his hair back up) “and Taehyung.” (he points to the other guy, who’s flashing you a smile.)

“Oh,” you say, looking back at Jungkook. “You play basketball.”

He lets out an awkward laugh and avoids your eyes. Instead, he grabs his fork and focuses on it, twirling it in his hand.

“Yeah, I do— I do that.”

Huh. It takes you a second to piece things together, and you think Namjoon will be of great help once he’ll be there, but for now, one conclusion comes to you.

Jungkook is shy.

“I play basketball too,” Taehyung says, leaning over the table, grinning at you, and you can tell that it’s his way of swooping in to save Jungkook. You can appreciate that.

“She hates basketball,” Jin warns.

“That’s a strong word,” you say, but only half-heartedly, because, well, you definitely don’t like it.

“I think it works.”

“You think what works?”

Jin’s face falls while you grin. If Taehyung is Jungkook’s savior, Namjoon is yours. Your friend sends you a questioning look as he sits next to you, facing Taehyung. He gives polite nods to the two basketball players, like they sit with you at lunch every week, but you notice that he doesn’t quite meet their eyes. Namjoon is not particularly shy, nor a misanthrope like Yoongi, he just isn’t too comfortable around people he’s just met.

You and Jin, well, you’re perhaps a little too comfortable. Not everyone likes it.

“He says I hate basketball.”

“But that would imply you care about basketball.”

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t.”

“I know.”

“Which means you don’t hate basketball. As always, you’re wrong, Jin.”

Jin looks extremely, extremely done with you, but when you and Namjoon high-five, Jungkook laughs quietly and Taehyung nods in appreciation — for the gesture, not the debate.

That is the moment when Yoongi drops his tray on the table and sends a weird glance towards Taehyung and Jungkook.

“What did I miss?” he asks. His tone is a bit dry, and you see Jin’s shoulders straightening. He knows Yoongi is going to be the most difficult one to win over. Not that you’ve been won over yet, but you’re not that difficult. Usually, people don’t like you, not the other way around. You don’t blame them. You’re not sure you’d like yourself very much if you were in their place.

“Oh,” Jungkook says spontaneously, “we had a class together last year! You’re majoring in engineering, right?”

Yoongi looks at him. His eyes are shining with suspicion, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Knowing him, he’s definitely wondering why Jungkook would even remember him.

“Right,” he finally confirms, slowly.

There’s a moment of silence, which Namjoon breaks.

“I’m a literature major, by the way.”

“That’s really cool,” Jungkook comments honestly, with the same spontaneity he displayed earlier.

“And I’m in mathematics,” you say.

“Wow. I thought you people existed only in legends,” Taehyung says while Jungkook avoids your eyes. You decide that, yeah, you like Kim Taehyung.

“Don’t say that, I like maths,” Jungkook protests, voice soft, much to your surprise — and, judging by his reaction, Taehyung’s.

You were right, you decide. Jungkook is not a completely terrible person.

You didn’t expect it to become a routine, for Jungkook and Taehyung to eat with you guys, but it does, and as time goes on, other people join your little table. You’re not sure you like that. It’s clear that those people are orbiting around Jungkook, which, good for them, but you don’t see why you need to be there for that.

You do see that Jungkook is not completely comfortable with all of it. He’s good at handling people, good at making jokes and at laughing at the right times, you notice, but there is a stiffness in his shoulders more often than not, and it looks like he’s well-trained at it rather than enjoying it. It kind of reminds you of Jin, except Jin is not as quiet the rest of the time. Taehyung obviously does his best not to let his friend deal with things alone, which is sweet, but he can’t do everything for him.

You barely exchange a word with Jungkook during that time period. You’re usually trying to be forgotten when the table is buzzing with noise, finding refuge in Namjoon and Yoongi’s company. You thought Yoongi would be an ally in reclaiming what’s always been your spot, but it quickly becomes obvious that he has a crush on Taehyung’s friend Jimin, so he never complains about the recent invasion of the table by strangers.

You hear a lot of basketball vocabulary. More than you care for, to be honest. That’s one of the few moments when Jungkook’s face lights up and he gets truly excited, with an almost childish happiness. His demeanor changes, from shy to confident, and the transformation never ceases to amaze you. As soon as the conversation ends, his shoulders fall, he smiles awkwardly, and focuses back on his food or his phone.

You’ve met his eyes a few times in those moments, because he often looks around him like he’s afraid someone’s noticed. He averts his very quickly, though, so you’ve never said anything about it.

So, really, there’s not much that changes. You still only speak to your three friends — you think Taehyung is a good person, and you don’t think he hates you, but you don’t have anything to say to each other —, and sure, you have a little less space when you eat and more noise around you, but aside from that, it’s pretty much the same. You think that’s a relief. You’re not too fond of change.

Usually, you’re pretty decent at spotting it coming. You did miss it when Jin said he was going to become Jungkook’s friend, but other than that you’re able to do your best to avoid it. You don’t see anything coming the day Taehyung calls out your name, though. You look up at him from the book Namjoon is showing you, surprised. He has an arm slung over Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook isn’t looking at you, of course.

“Do you think you could explain a maths-thing to Jungkook?”

You blink at him.

“What’s the ‘maths-thing’?”

“Does it matter?”

You raise an eyebrow, and Jungkook groans. You get the feeling that he didn’t really want Taehyung to ask you about it. He sends an annoyed glance to his friend, who is still smiling brightly at you, while pushing a lock of hair out of his face. His hair is tied, but this one traitorous lock always escapes.

“I’m struggling a little with probabilities,” he admits, glancing at you for half a second. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine once I can get my head back into it, I’ve just been training a lot recently and—”

“I can help you, if you want,” you say. “I’m not the most fond of probabilities, but it should be okay.”

“Great!” Taehyung says, patting his friend’s shoulder before Jungkook can answer. “You should do that then.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Jungkook asks, actually looking at you this time. You meet his eyes, notice that he looks worried about it. You can’t figure out why.

“I really don’t,” you shrug.

He smiles at you, a small, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless. Probably the first one he directs at you. It’s a nice sight, you decide, and you smile back.

Jin’s sentence “is there anything Jungkook can’t do” takes all its sense on the day you meet Jungkook at the library to study. You don’t know what you expected. You never thought Jungkook was dumb or anything, but since Taehyung asked you to help, you thought he would have some difficulties, at least. However, as it turns out, he either understands immediately when you explain something to him, or he’s already understood it. He asks for some clarifications here and there, but all in all, you feel kind of useless.

“You don’t need me at all,” you say after a little while, and Jungkook looks up from the book with the worried wide-eyed look you’ve gotten used to.

“No, no, you’re doing a great job,” he protests. “You’re really helping me out here.”

“No I’m not. It’s obvious that you could do that all on your own.”

He deflates a little at that, looks away from you.

“You help,” he mumbles. “I have a hard time focusing when I’m alone.”

Oh.

That makes a lot of sense to you, actually. You’re good at focusing all of your energy on one thing, perhaps even too good, to the point where you easily get obsessed and become unable to take care of anything else, but even you need the right conditions for that.

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

Jungkook gives you an anxious look.

“So you don’t mind helping me out?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that catches you, but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Maybe it’s the hope, or maybe it’s the fear. You don’t understand what he’d be afraid of. Worst case scenario, you would say no. That wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“We can work together,” you offer. “You can ask me if you need help for anything and I’ll just work on some other stuff.”

He seems relieved, and again, you just don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re his only option. There are plenty of people out there who could help him. Plenty of people who would jump at the opportunity of helping him. You know that, because he’s always surrounded by those people, and everybody in school seems to know him. Even when you walked into the library with him earlier, before you got to the table you’re sitting at now, a few students greeted him. You don’t see why he would attach any importance to you, specifically, helping him. You barely know each other.

“Thanks,” he says, and he gives you a small smile. For some reason, that makes you drop the subject. Instead of asking about it — which, knowing yourself, you probably would have — you shrug it off and reply with a nod.

The silence that follows feels comfortable, to you at least. You’ve never minded silence. Jin hates it, though. You get to work, watching absent-mindedly as Jungkook goes through the lesson he was working on. He does ask you a couple of questions, but it’s probably to make you feel like you’re doing something rather than because he actually needs it. You still answer them, and watch him grin, satisfied with himself, when he turns out to be right every single time.

“Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this week-end?” he asks out of the blue after about an hour.

You look up, surprised. The two of you haven’t exchanged much, and certainly have not talked about anything other than— well, other than maths. His eyes are on his notebook, as usual, and you don’t get any insight as to why he asked the question.

“I don’t know. Is Jin coming?”

“Uh, I guess? Taehyung’s probably talked to him about it.”

“Then I’m probably going.”

Jungkook mulls over your answer for a few seconds, twirling his pencil between his fingers, and you feel like you have to clarify, which is not an urge you have often. Usually, you let people decipher for themselves what you meant. That works very well with Namjoon, sometimes with Yoongi, not so great with the rest of the world. Including Jin, though Jin compensates with his impressive ability to interpret everything you say in his favor.

“We always go to parties with Jin. For moral support.”

For all that you tease him, you genuinely care for him. You know he wants you to go with him, so you do. It’s as simple as that.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, but he still smiles at what you say, and it’s— it’s interesting. There’s something about his behavior that makes you curious, like you are when you’re trying to solve a complicated equation.

“That’s nice,” he comments.

“So… you’ll be there?” you ask. It’s taken you a long time to come up with that simple question. It often takes you a long time to find things to say to keep a conversation going. You’re pretty bad at it.

“It’s at my fraternity,” Jungkook informs you, glancing at you briefly, and you smile. This is exactly the type of party Jin wanted to go to. He’s probably happy about it. “The entire basketball team should be there.”

Great. People.

“That’s nice,” you say, because you have no idea what to add at this point. Jungkook simply nods, and the conversation dies an awkward death.

It’s another half an hour until Jungkook looks at his watch and starts putting his stuff back in his bag.

“I have to go to practice,” he tells you, clearly in a hurry. “Can we— Would you mind if—”

“We can do this again. If that’s what you meant.”

He gives you a bright smile, and that actually surprises you. He looks relieved that you finished his sentence for him.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

And just like that, he’s gone, practically running out of the library. For someone who talks as little as he does, he sure leaves a void when he goes away, you think, looking at the empty chair.

But you quickly shrug it off. You’re used to being alone. You like being alone.

Jungkook isn’t going to change that.

You realize very quickly that, while accompanying Jin to parties was never something you particularly enjoyed, going to this one was downright a mistake.

You have this unspoken rule, with your friends, that you shouldn’t stick together the entire time. You’re supposed to wander off, find something to do for yourself, maybe talk to some people. Get that college experience. You’ve never had a problem to do that, even if you ended up quietly sipping soda in a corner more often than not.

Here, though, you simply cannot shake off the fact that you don’t belong here, that this is not your scene. The people here are loud, energetic, garish. They make you feel like a black and white picture, like a silent movie. You want to run away, but you can’t. You don’t want to leave Jin, Namjoon or Yoongi behind, even if you doubt they’re having the same kind of problems you do. You’re pretty sure you saw Yoongi talking with Jimin, and last time you saw Namjoon, you think a cheerleader was holding him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You don’t know what Jin’s doing, but you’re trusting that he’s okay.

You walk around aimlessly, find Jungkook and Taehyung playing beer-pong with some people. Maybe you should be happy to see people you know, but you’re not. If anything, it only drives the point home even more to see them so comfortable: you don’t belong here. Your chest tightens, and you turn around. You need a little peace and quiet. You need to get away.

“(Y/N)!”

You jump at the sound of your name. No one’s said it since you’ve entered the house. No one knows you here.

Except Jungkook, who’s right behind you.

He’s more confident than usual, and you guess, based on his slightly hazy eyes, that it has a lot to do with alcohol.

“Are you having fun? How long have you been here? It’s nice to see you!”

He’s speaking fast, excitedly, and as he does, he runs his fingers through his hair, which he’s let down. It looks good on him, you decide, even as you reply to him with a tense smile.

“Hey, you should join us, we’re—”

“Do you have a closet somewhere?”

Jungkook blinks.

“A closet?”

“Yeah.”

There are probably very few things that are less weird than asking a guy if he has a closet you can get into because you’re on the verge of having a panic attack and you can’t stay outside surrounded by people a second longer.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just leads you through the house and opens the door to a closet for you. You get inside without giving it much more thought, and he looks at you, puzzled. He’s actually looking at you, which you decide confirms that he is drunk.

“Do you— Are you waiting for someone?”

“No,” you say. “I just need a little break.”

He thinks about your answer for a while, probably longer than needed, and nods.

And then, he gets into the closet with you and closes the door.

Inside, it’s dark, with only a ray of light coming in. You can’t see his face, which doesn’t help you understand why he just did that. The space is cramped, and you can smell alcohol coming from his breath, can feel the heat radiating from his body, but it doesn’t bother you that much. It’s still better in here than outside.

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought I would keep you company. Like you’re here to keep company to Jin, you know?”

He’s drunk, definitely, and yet you feel genuinely touched by his words. You shouldn’t, because you doubt they hold that much meaning, but you can’t help it. You don’t need company, but that’s besides the point. His intentions are what matters.

“Thank you,” you say.

“It’s not a problem. You’re helping me with my maths.”

Your first reaction is to laugh at that, because it feels completely unprompted, but then the logic of the reasoning kind of appears to you.

“I mean it!” Jungkook protests. “You haven’t talked about how I’m good at everything or how I’m the one who should help you.”

You frown.

“You shouldn’t help me. You’re good at maths, but I’m better than you.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh, and just like his earlier smile, it takes you completely by surprise. It’s not one of those quiet laughs that he usually has. It’s light and pleasant, and you briefly wonder what his face looks like when he laughs like that. You kind of want to see it.

“You’re a scary person,” he tells you when he’s stopped laughing. “You always say those things directly. It’s like you don’t even care.”

You’ve heard that before. Well, you haven’t been called scary until now, but people have said that you were intimidating. You, personally, believe you’re the least threatening person to have ever walked this Earth. You couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to.

Jungkook makes some sense here, though. Your filter is very limited, and there are a lot of things you say that feel acceptable to you, and that other people… don’t think are acceptable. You don’t mean to do it. It just happens.

“I think you’re good at a lot of things, though,” you say slowly.

Jungkook lets out a long sigh and then you hear him sliding down to the ground. You hesitate for about half a second before joining him down there. You fold your legs, holding your knees against your chest while you wait for him to say something.

“People are always saying that,” he finally mumbles. “But what if I’m not that good? What if I fail one day?”

It’s strange. You understand what he’s saying, understand the feeling of pressure, but you don’t understand the emotions that should come with it. In your case, you know that no one holds you to a higher standard than you do. It can be unhealthy, the way you can torture yourself if you don’t meet the standards you’ve set for yourself, but at least you’re the only one you have to answer to. Obviously, it’s not Jungkook’s case.

“Then you’ll try again,” you say, because that’s what you do when you fail. “Or, if you think it’s not that important, you won’t.”

“But what will they say?” he insists. “What if we lose the next game? Or the one after that? What if I fail a class? I can’t get anything done these days.”

“You’ll be fine,” you say soothingly, half-wondering how you ended up here, comforting the college’s golden boy in a closet after fighting off a panic attack. “It’s not like you’re the only one in your team. People will understand.”

You think they will. You hope they will. They should.

“You would understand.”

It’s true, but then, you really do not care for basketball, and it’s not like you have that sort of expectations for Jungkook. You wouldn’t think much of it, if he failed at something tomorrow. If it was the maths test you’ve helped him with, you would be surprised, but that’s because you saw him studying and it was obvious he had understood everything, not because you think he can inherently succeed at everything he does.

Which you guess might be the heart of the problem here.

You reach out to put your hand on his shoulder. It’s not that easy in the dark, and you wonder for a second if you’ve grabbed something else, until you feel hair tickling your skin. Yup, you were right.

“You have the right not to be good at something every once in a while,” you say softly. “No one can be on top of their game all of the time.”

You hear what sounds like a choked sob.

“I like that they’re counting on me, you know? I like that I’m helping them out by playing. I just— I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

He said when, not if, and that breaks your heart.

Without thinking about it, you slide your hand down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it in yours, gently, and then you inch closer to put your head on his shoulder. You remember reading that physical touch was good for people who were in emotional pain. You hope it helps him.

“You locked yourself in here with me because you thought I needed company,” you whisper. “There’s so much more to you than just being good at sports or having good grades. And if people don’t see that, it’s their loss. Because you’re a great person.”

He hums, but the sound is quiet, and it’s then that you realize how tense he is.

Shit. You must have crossed a boundary. You start to remove your hand, but he closes his fingers around yours, keeping you in place. He’s still tense, you can feel it everywhere his body touches yours. But he doesn’t let go.

“You mean that,” he says. There are so many emotions in his voice that you can’t identify them all. Relief, happiness, amusement… You don’t know where to start.

“I usually mean what I say.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and you can hear the smile that’s dancing on his lips.

He’s still not letting go of your hand, but you don’t mind. Staying here, with Jungkook, in this small closet is as good a way of spending your evening as anything else you could do out there.

So you stay.

“Where did you all vanish Saturday?” Jin asks, and Namjoon, Yoongi and yourself immediately find your food a lot more interesting. You exchange panicked glances that mean ‘did none of you stay around? This was poorly coordinated’ before finally daring to look up.

“I talked to Jimin,” Yoongi says, face as inexpressive as always.

“I played some beer-pong with Taehyung,” Namjoon says.

That leaves only you.

“I talked to Jungkook,” you tell Jin. That is technically true. It omits the part where the two of you were together in a closet, but if you said that, there would be a lot of questions you don’t really want to answer to. Somehow, you think you would be more embarrassed to tell them that there was nothing going on there than if you told them you hooked up with him. You’re not sure why.

“Jungkook disappeared for a long time,” Jin says, narrowing his eyes at you.

You do your best to keep a straight face while you poke at your salad. You don’t want anyone here to have the wrong idea, and you finally manage to put your finger on what you’re afraid of. Humiliation. You’d feel humiliated at having to tell them that nothing happened and that there is nothing Jungkook could possibly see in you. They would be nice to you, of course they would, but you don’t want to see the look in their eyes.

“Did he? Maybe that was after I left. I didn’t stay that long.”

That’s a lie.

“Really?” Jin asks, clearly skeptical. “I think I saw you there pretty late.”

Maybe when you went down to get some snacks and drinks to bring back to the closet. Damn Jungkook and his stomach.

“Well, that depends what you mean by ‘late’ and ‘long’,” you say.

That’s you calling Namjoon for help, and he recognizes your SOS for what it is. From the way Jin’s face falls, so does he.

“She’s right,” Namjoon comments, so nonchalant you would almost believe he’s doing it naturally. “What is ‘late’, really? Isn’t it always—”

“Please stop,” Jin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just because you’re a literature major doesn’t mean you’re the only one who understands words.”

“Actually it does,” you say with a nod. “That’s exactly what it means.”

You start lifting your hand for a high-five, relieved Jin’s attention is off you, but he sends the two of you a dark glare.

“You two are unbearable. Don’t do that.”

“We have to,” you protest. You would hate to miss a chance to high-five Namjoon.

“No you don’t, you—”

“Actually they do,” Yoongi says, and your jaw drops. Yoongi never intervenes, and you had always thought that if he did, it wouldn’t be in your favor. “That’s exactly how gravity works.”

Jin looks like his soul has left his body. He only comes back to himself after you, Yoongi and Namjoon have all exchanged high-fives.

“I hate you,” he says, sounding terribly tired. “I hate every single one of you.”

“Sorry Jin,” you smile warmly.

“No you’re not. You’re the worst.”

Except he sounds fond, affectionate, and you laugh before going back to your salad. You miss the quick glances your three friends exchange after that. They’ve all noticed you eluding and changing the subject. They don’t want to rush you, know you would hate it and that it’s better to drop it.

But they’ve noticed.

Working with Jungkook on Wednesday afternoons easily becomes a habit, so easily you don’t even notice it until it’s something you look forward to during the week. It adds to the time you already spend eating with him and Taehyung. Jungkook is, slowly, starting to become a part of your life. It’s a thought you refuse to dwell on, because it sounds so strange.

The Wednesdays afternoons are something special, though. You and Jungkook don’t really talk at lunch, even if he’s clearly more relaxed around you now, which you suspect is the reason why you’re ‘Taehyung-approved’. On Wednesdays, you— Well, you don’t talk much, either, but it’s different. It’s a time that only belongs to the two of you. You like that.

You slowly find out things about him, his family, his life. It’s never the main subject of conversation, but it makes you feel like you’re solving a puzzle.

“My father wanted me to focus on my classes and forget about basketball,” he comments once. “But I could do both.”

It makes you laugh, because he says it with obvious satisfaction, but it also makes you wonder if there’s more to it. Jungkook doesn’t add anything, though, and you don’t want to probe into his life, so you don’t ask. After that, small pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place.

“My high school coach told me I could train more if I didn’t work so hard for school.” But he could do both.

“My friends said I never hung out with them anymore and that I shouldn’t work so hard.” So he did both.

It’s always the same story. People telling him things, giving him opinions on what the should and shouldn’t do, and him stretching himself thinner and thinner. It’s almost a miracle he’s still doing as well as he is, honestly.

But his tone changes when he talks about his former relationships. He’s usually light and genuine, sharing with you just because. It’s clear that, as much as the stories make you frown, he doesn’t have an issue with them, and you guess that’s all that matters. The first time he says something about an ex-girlfriend of his, though, he’s guarded, almost careful. He sounds like he doesn’t want to tell you.

“My ex said I worked too much.”

He doesn’t add anything. Whatever it was she wanted, he couldn’t do it and work. Didn’t manage to do both. After that, he doesn’t look at you for the rest of the day, like he did when you first met.

You never get a name for the girlfriend. He talks about relationships again, but you don’t even know if he’s always talking about the same one. You doubt it, though, and it only makes things worse.

“My ex wanted me to attend fewer practices.”

“My ex said I didn’t care enough to make time for her.”

“My ex dumped me after I lost a game.”

That last one hurts you, because you remember him crying in the closet because of that exact fear. You want to take his hand again, but you can’t dare to.

“She’s stupid for that,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks surprised first, because you never comment on what he’s telling you, then a smile slowly forms on his lips.

“If the only reason she was with you was because you won a lot of games, you’re better off without her,” you add.

“That’s what Taehyung said.”

“Taehyung’s right.”

Jungkook goes quiet for a little while after that, to the point that you look up, worried that you might have offended him. When you do, he’s looking at you, something you can’t identify shining in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

He blinks like he’d just woken up for a dream, then nods. He doesn’t tell you that he hadn’t believed what Taehyung said — until you said it and he looked at you and thought that yeah, maybe he was better off without her indeed.

You’re surprised to run into Jungkook late one night, as you’re walking back to your dorm. It shouldn’t shock you — you do go to the same college — but you’re so used to only ever seeing him in the library or the cafeteria that meeting him outside is almost confusing. At least he seems taken aback as well, if the way his already round eyes widen is anything to go by.

Then, his surprised face morphs into a smile, and a wave of warmth hits you without a warning. You don’t get any time to think about it before he waves at you. His shyness is not completely gone, and you see him waver, hesitate, even as he’s walking up to you. You’re quick to close the gap between you, meeting him in the middle. Just in case.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little raspy. He has what you identify as a sports bag, slung over his shoulder, and you wonder what he was doing out so late. You were working at the library until it closed, which is far from being rare for you, but that obviously wasn’t his case.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back. “Were you— training?”

Amusement flashes in his eyes at the careful way you chose your words, afraid to get it wrong. As he grew more comfortable around you, he also started making fun of you for not knowing the first thing about basketball. Strangely, you don’t mind that much.

“I was at the gym,” he says. “Practice was earlier today.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Should you ask what he was doing at the gym? The answer would only leave you with more questions, you’re sure.

You’re still debating it when Jungkook clears his throat. He reaches for his ponytail and undoes it, shaking his head so the hair fall back into place. The sight is— interesting. Pretty. You’re not sure why you’re so fascinated by it.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” he asks, slight concern in his voice. “It’s late.”

“Is it on your way back?” you question, frowning. You would hate to be a bother.

“No, but—”

“I’m fine, then. I do that several times a week, I’ve never had a problem.”

That was, apparently, not the thing to say. Jungkook only looks more worried now.

“Several times a week? That’s really not careful.”

“I don’t see a problem, there’s no one around.”

“That’s exactly my p—” He stops and shakes his head, but gives a look you’ve seen before. A lot. It’s a look that says ‘I can’t believe someone as smart as you can also be so stupid’, in those exact terms. “Expected value,” he then says, and your eyes widen a little. Maths! Great. You can do maths. “Let’s say there’s a 99% chance nothing happens. Your gain is still minimal.”

Well, you get to study late and enjoy a walk home alone at night, but you’re willing to humor him.

“But in the one per-cent where something bad happens…”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. You know exactly where this is going, and you let out a sigh. He’s not wrong. On that aspect, at least.

“Fine.”

He grins widely.

“I just beat you at maths.”

“You didn’t beat me, I—”

“I just beat you at maths!”

You roll your eyes, choose to let him have that. It’s not going to change anything to your behavior after tonight, because the day has not come where you’ll let probabilities rule your life, but, after all, you don’t mind sharing your night walk with him.

Jungkook starts showing up to walk you home whenever he can. It’s not every time, which you’re kind of thankful for — you like his company, but you like being alone just as much, and you need a healthy dose of that every week —, but it does happen regularly. You find him sitting in front of the library, freezing cold, and you take pity on him, buying him a coffee from the vending machine inside, seconds before they lock the building.

That’s how you find out he likes his coffee tasting as little like coffee as possible.

Sometimes, he joins you later, and you hear him jogging to catch up with you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that that defeats the purpose of everything he’s doing, because it’s absolutely terrifying.

As the days turn into weeks, the air becomes colder, and you start seeing Christmas decorations appearing over the campus. You don’t know who is in charge of doing that, but they must be excited about it, because tinsel and few strings of fairy lights start appearing around the campus at the end of November. Jungkook is delighted by it, and you enjoy watching his reactions. You’re not big on Christmas, personally. You enjoy the tradition, the gift-giving, spending time with your family — you’re visiting them briefly this year — but you mostly see Christmas as an excuse for all of that. Jungkook loves it, though, and you decide that his excitement makes you like the season a little more.

“Hey, we should make a stop,” he tells you one night.

You look at him like he’s crazy. It’s the middle of December and it’s already half past nine. You’re cold, it’s dark outside, and you want to go home.

“A stop?” you repeat.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, and he has that wide, childish grin that you’ve seen only a handful of times. You haven’t learned how to resist it yet. “C’mon!”

You sigh. But you follow.

As it turns out, he takes you just a little way off your usual trajectory. Behind a building you’ve never really paid attention to, Jungkook leads you to a small basketball court. You eye the place suspiciously. It’s empty, well lit, but you never know. A ball might come out of nowhere to hit you in the face, as they had a tendency to do when you were in high school and playing for a team that had picked you last.

By the time you turn around to tell Jungkook that, okay, you’ve seen it, let’s go home now, he’s taken off his coat and pulled a basketball out of his bag. You don’t even want to ask. His grin is even wider than earlier.

“C’mon,” he says.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me show you, okay?”

You want to say no but— It can’t hurt, right? And Jungkook loves basketball, and you’re his— friend or something, so you should try to take some interest in it.

You take off your coat and let him lead you onto the court. There, you watch him as he dribbles in what you guess is an effective way (you can’t know for sure, you’re barely able to catch the ball after it’s bounced once so your standards are incredibly low), and then demonstrates his ability to score a handful of times. It’s not that you’re not impressed — again, you can’t do anything with this unpredictable, devilish round thing — but you also can’t say this is a quality you think much of.

You liked it a lot better when he convinced you to let him walk you home by talking about the expected value.

“You want to try?” he offers, holding the ball out for you.

You would rather die.

But you take the ball from his hand and eye the basket like it’s personally offended you. That makes Jungkook laugh.

“You can get closer than that,” he says.

You hold back a groan, aim and, of course, fail. It’s almost a relief. You can cross that off your list, again, just like you did as a kid first, then as a teenager. You’re bad at sports, always have been and, considering the effort you’re putting into it those days, always will be. That’s something you can count on.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook’s caught the ball and is running back towards you.

“Okay, let me show you.”

Is he going to— No, he’s just demonstrating it. You’re kind of disappointed not to get your typical ‘guy teaching girl anything sports related’ moment, disappointed that he doesn’t come to stand behind you to show you like they do in movies, but you can’t unpack that right now. You do watch with some degree of interest as he shows you how to position yourself.

“So you really aim for the line above the basket, not the basket, okay?”

“If you think that just because I aim for something I hit it…”

He chuckles, then gives the ball back to you, and you sigh. This. This is why you hate sports. It’s not the one-off failure, that would be fine on its own. It’s the constant humiliation whenever you even try it. You’re going to fail this attempt, and the next one, and the one after that. You’re a lost cause. You’re fine with it, too, but you don’t particularly want to go through that again.

You do your best, though. Not because you think it will change something, but because you kind of want to prove that this isn’t all you. That, even if you’re trying your hardest, there’s just something that refuses to let you score or do it right.

“Wait!” Jungkook walks over to you, puts his hand on your back, and you freeze. “You need to straighten yourself a little,” he says, placing his hand between your shoulder blades, and you nod. His hand is warm and large, you can feel it even over your sweatshirt. “There.”

He removes the hand, and you’re left a little off balance without him by your side. You shake your head quickly, shoot, and, without any surprise, miss.

Jungkook is on the ball just as fast as before, but you’re as quick as him to grab your coat and put it back on. You’re already feeling warm all over, though.

“You don’t want to try again?” he asks, sounding genuinely disappointed.

Of course, you take pity on him.

“Maybe next time,” you say.

He gives you a bright smile, so genuinely happy, and you know that you won’t be able to deny him next time either.

Jin is the reason you’re here, and that is the version you will stick with. No, you didn’t want to go see a basketball game, even if Jungkook is playing. No, you didn’t feel the slightest bit curious about it. No, you would not be there if Jin hadn’t asked. It’s Jin’s fault if you’re here on a Friday night instead of being, well, at your place, likely doing something equally as unproductive.

You don’t even understand what is going on in the field. There’s a lot of running and throwing the ball, that’s for sure, but then, you’ve just learned that scoring from different places in the field and at different moments will not earn the players the same amount of points.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friends look at you with such consternation as when they had to explain it to you.

In that situation, you can’t say that you get much from looking at the field. You definitely follow Jungkook with your eyes, cheer and clap when he scores, and let out cries of disappointment with the rest of the crowd when he doesn’t, but truly, the only way you have any idea what’s going on is by looking at the score board. And the truth is, that score is a little too close for comfort.

You hate that it has that much of an impact on you, but it stresses you out. Your leg bounces on the floor, an habit of yours Jin hates, but he’s too focused to notice, which is only more stressful. Jin always notices, and if it doesn’t, it must mean that the situation is dire.

The remaining seconds are slowly ticking down. Jungkook’s team is ahead by only one point, which means that if the other team scores, they will win. You think. You’re not entirely sure, but for your defense, you’ve just heard about it. Jungkook seems to be everywhere on the field. Taehyung is his shadow, perhaps not as noticeable or as spectacular in his actions, but certainly effective.

Again, you have no knowledge of basketball whatsoever.

Jin grabs your thigh, and only then do you realize that something’s happened. The action was so quick, so smooth, that you missed it entirely — but maybe you were also kind of thinking of something else.

Someone from the other team — you don’t even know your school’s team’s players, you’re not going to learn the other ones — just made a break for it. Based on what you can tell, Taehyung blocked his path, pushing him straight into Jungkook’s arms. In a movement you cannot begin to comprehend, Jungkook takes the ball from him, without ever stopping his run.

After that, he’s unstoppable.

He crosses the field, looking almost like he’s dancing in the way he avoids his opponents, and, of course, scores.

The time falls to zero. The crowd stands up like one man, screaming and shouting, and you yourself find yourself jumping up to hug Jin. He hugs you back, but the two of you quickly separate, patting each other’s backs awkwardly.

Jin starts talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, but you tune them out — it’s not like you understand what they’re saying anyway — to look at the field. The players have lifted Jungkook on their shoulders and he’s laughing, holding on to them so he doesn’t fall, and you grin.

“Come on,” Jin says, “let’s go congratulate him!”

That sounds like a terrible idea, you think. You won’t be the only ones, as the crowd has already invaded the field, and you doubt you’ll be able to get very close.

You still follow him. You alternate between clinging to his arm and to his shoulders so you don’t lose him, and trust him to elbow his way through the crowd. You hear him apologizing profusely in front of you, but he does not stop. Slowly, you make it down. Once you’re off the stairs, people are not as compactly gathered, and you can just walk between them. Jin grins at you, and you give him a thumbs up. Yeah, he did good here. You can give him that.

“Hey, Jungkook!” he calls out.

Jungkook was talking with some girls, but he looks up at the sound of his name, excuses himself, and jogs towards the two of you.

And it is then, in the few seconds it takes him to get to you, that it hits you. Like a ton of bricks.

You had known that Jungkook was objectively attractive, of course. There was no ignoring that. But Jin was objectively attractive, too, and that had never changed anything between the two of you. With Jungkook, right now, it does. His skin is glistening with sweat, and he wipes his chin with his shirt, and oh no, you can see his well-defined biceps and the line of his abs, and some hair is escaping from his ponytail, and he’s grinning with a happy, proud smile, and his eyes are shining and—

Jungkook is hot. That’s your realization. You had been aware of it, technically, but it’s like it only clicks for you at that exact moment.

“You came,” he tells you with a bright smile, and you can feel your entire face heating up. You pray that it’s not visible.

“Yeah,” you squeak out. “Great, um, great game?”

It sounds like an interrogation because you have no idea if it was one. It looked difficult, but maybe that was because they played terribly today. You don’t know that.

Jungkook’s smile widens a little, and you know that he has you all figured out. He knows you don’t understand the first thing about this whole thing.

“Thanks,” he still says.

His chest is still heaving quickly, and it draws your attention to his— his everything. The way he’s leaning towards you as he’s trying to catch his breath doesn’t help either. You wait for Jin to say something, to save you, but when you look around, you realize the traitor has abandoned you completely.

Okay, he hasn’t technically abandoned you, he’s just gone to congratulate Taehyung, but it’s the same difference.

You hear someone else calling Jungkook’s name before you’ve figured out what to say. He looks around, then gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I—”

“No problem, you should— I have to go anyway.”

This is not like you. You’re an awkward person, and you struggle in social situations, but you don’t usually trip over your words like that. You kind of hate it.

“Okay, so, um, I’ll see you…?”

“Wednesday, yeah. Or— before. At lunch. If you’re there.”

This is terrible.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you one last smile, and then he’s off, and you’re standing alone in the middle of a crowd. Your chest is heavy and it feels painful.

You hate this.

It’s only after that that you start realizing how big of a part Jungkook now plays in your life. He walks you home at night sometimes. You eat with him once or twice a week. You study together for an entire afternoon on Wednesdays. He’s just— everywhere. And it’s not that it’s a bad thing, because the feeling you get when you see him is a pleasant one, but it is disconcerting. It’s something that you have no control over whatsoever and that’s not— that’s not good for you.

You realize how much attention you were already paying to him, too, which is even more annoying. The signs were there. You should have understood this sooner. If you had, maybe you could have prevented it.

Because that’s the thing. You know the situation is ridiculous. You believe Jungkook sees you as a friend, and you’re happy with that, but there is no way he thinks of you as anything else. That is not an idea you should even begin to entertain. You can handle rejection, you’re used to it in so many aspects, though it’s rarely romantic, but you cannot take getting your hopes up only for them to be crushed.

The thing is, you can’t help it at this point, can’t force your feelings back in. There is so much to like about him. The way he plays with his hair, the quiet laughs when he’s in public, the loud ones when he’s walking you home, the sparkle in his eyes when he asks you a question in maths and it turns out he already had it right, the look on his face when he talks about basketball,… There’s so much.

You briefly consider avoiding him, but that’s not really an option. You like being his friend. You see your feelings as annoying, pesky little things that have no business being there in the first place. You don’t even hate the rush that goes through you when you see him, the way just looking at him brings a smile to your lips that you simply can’t hold back.

But you really, really hate the wishful thinking. The hope.

The feelings are fine, as long as you don’t think too hard about it. As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Because that would break your heart.

And it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

You really considered declining when Jin asked you to come to this New Year’s party. Your last experience had effectively convinced you that those new parties he was getting invited to were not for you. That was fine, to each their own, but that did mean you didn’t really want to go. He clearly didn’t need you there anyway. You didn’t even know why he asked.

But he did, and he insisted, and he gave you his best puppy eyes, and that’s the thing about Jin: he’s very, very good at giving puppy eyes.

So that’s why you’re there, wearing a red dress that’s way too flashy for you, leaning against a wall and staring into the void. You feel empty and, though you’re not alone, lonely. You’re surrounded by strangers, and there are people everywhere in the house, but you don’t know them, and you can’t just start a conversation with them. It’s not something you do, it’s not even something you want.

You haven’t felt the urge to lock yourself inside a closet yet, though, so you guess that’s an improvement compared to last time.

Looking around, you can see Jimin, perched on the counter, listening to Yoongi talk with a smile on his face. Jin is somewhere else in the room and, though you can’t see him, you sometimes hear him, so you know he has his flirting voice on. Namjoon is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably a good sign. He always get lucky at those parties. You don’t know how he does it. It’s impressive, honestly. Hoseok showed up earlier, and everyone greeted him like he was a star — which is kind of accurate, actually, at the campus’ scale.

You know, of course, that Jungkook and Taehyung, as inseparable as ever, are by the pool table. You also hate that you know it, because now your mind is constantly wondering if it’s weird that you haven’t been there yet, or if it would be weird to show up. Neither, probably, because exactly no one cares except for you, but you’re the master of torturing yourself with useless considerations.

God, you hate having a crush. It’s just so— unpractical. You also hate that you didn’t see that one coming, and that you didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. Usually, you’re pretty good at nipping those kinds of feelings in the bud. Now, you can only wait it out.

With a sigh, you push yourself away from the wall to wander aimlessly around the house. You promised Jin you’d stay until midnight, and you intend to keep that promise. It’s not like there’s anything for you to do, but still, that way you can look like you’re doing something and look a little less weird. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Passing in front of the room with the pool table, you realize that Jungkook is gone. Taehyung is still there, playing with Hoseok, both looking pretty wasted, but Jungkook has vanished. That’s not good. You don’t want him to spring up on you out of nowhere like he did last time. You won’t know how to react if that happens, probably fumble for words, and it will be very unpleasant and very embarrassing for everyone.

You consider finding another closet, then decides against it. There’s just fifteen minutes left until midnight, anyway. That’s not too long. You can just wait it out.

You slowly make your way through the house. No sign of Jungkook anywhere. Maybe he left. Maybe he’s already back to the pool table and you missed him completely. Maybe he’s locked himself in a room with a girl and—

Oh you hate this. You hate feeling jealous. You hate that you have no control over it, you hate that it makes you sad, you hate that you have no right to feel like that. Jungkook isn’t yours. He’s probably even considered you for anything. You should consider yourself lucky you’re even friends with him in the first place.

You do your best to push everything out of your mind. Alcohol has never looked more tempting, but you don’t want the hangover with the morning, so you ignore the inviting bottles of beer and walk out.

It’s freezing — of course it’s freezing, it’s December you idiot, is there anything you can do right tonight — and you shiver, but you stay there. The cold is both numbing and soothing, and while you’re mentally complaining about it, you’re not thinking about anything else, so that’s good.

The door opens and closes behind you, and you guess someone is coming out to smoke. You move over to give them some space, but just as you do that, a jacket falls over your shoulders. You jump at first, and then the warmth makes you sigh in relief.

“You shouldn’t go out without a coat,” Jungkook says, because of course it’s him.

“I feel that you’ve been scolding me a lot recently,” you chuckle, glancing up at him.

He pouts, buries his hands in his pockets. He’s obviously cold as well, but at least his shirt covers his arms.

It also hugs his muscles real nice, but that’s besides the point.

“That’s because you make very poor decisions,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “You have to realize that.”

“You’re right. I could have taken my coat outside.”

“You know that walking back all alone in the middle of the night is way worse,” he protests, and then you laugh, because that’s exactly what you wanted, and he goes quiet for a second. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, looking away from you again.

“I’m not,” you say, and you take a step in his direction so you can bump your shoulder against his. “You shouldn’t worry that much, but I think it’s nice that you do. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“That worked really well,” he says, and he sounds surprised about it. You wonder if it’s because he usually doesn’t get angry for stuff, but you can’t tell for sure. “Hey, you—”

People start shouting numbers inside, and you turn around to look at them.

“It’s midnight,” you say.

“Five!”

You look up at Jungkook. He’s significantly taller than you. Not as much as Namjoon, but still.

“Four!”

Jungkook looks back at you, smiles, and it takes your breath away. His hair looks very good like that, you think absent-mindedly, with the way it falls on either side of his face.

“Three!”

It’s too late to go back inside now. It would definitely be a weird thing to do. Which means you’re here, alone, with Jungkook.

“Two!”

Your eyes flicker to his lips. You wonder what it would be like to kiss them. You haven’t let yourself even consider it before, but right now your brain isn’t functioning all that well. Probably because of how loud your heart is beating in your chest.

“One!”

You look back up and his eyes are wide and focused on you. There’s that same tension in his shoulders as when you first met him, except, back then, he couldn’t look at you, and now it seems that he can’t look away.

“Happy new year!”

You decide you shouldn’t think about your next move. You get on your tiptoes to plant a kiss at the corner of his lips, right at the border between friends and something else, but he leans forward right at that moment, and his hands cup your face, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s like an explosion. You don’t know what you should focus on. How warm he is, how soft and large his hands are, how his lips move against yours, how he tastes, or simply the fact that he’s kissing you, Jungkook is kissing you!

The door slams open, and the two of you move away in a jump.

“Happy new year Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, obviously drunk, soon joined by several other members of the basketball team. If he’s seen what happened, he doesn’t say anything, and you doubt Taehyung would have that kind of control over himself.

Soon, Jungkook is surrounded and they start to drag him back inside. He gives you a brief, apologetic look, then follows them, laughing. You remain there, frozen, unsure of what to do. You take a hesitant step towards the door, only to see a girl planting kisses on his cheeks while he blushes. What gets to you, though, is the arm he’s wrapped around her, the way he’s tracing circles on the naked skin of her shoulder. It makes the gesture look… intimate. Personal.

You let out a brief, bitter laugh, that there is fortunately no one to hear. You feel confused, but mostly, you feel stupid.

Fuck that.

It doesn’t take long for you to drop the jacket onto a chair and find your coat. You wish a happy new year to Namjoon, when you pass by him on your way out, and he looks a little surprised, like he hasn’t heard the shouting. You don’t want to know what he could have been up to.

You’ve kept your end of the bargain, you think as you leave. Jin won’t be able to complain to you. You feel some petty sort of satisfaction when you step outside and find yourself alone alone, finally. You like this. You like being alone. You’ve never asked for anything else.

You give one last look to the party, then vanish into the night. You’re better off on your own anyway.

“I don’t think I’ll be coming,” you say, nonchalantly, as everyone around the table is talking animatedly about a party for the next week-end.

You had hoped it would go unnoticed in the middle of the conversation, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t go as planned. Taehyung turns horrified eyes towards you, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi all look surprised, and Jungkook… You don’t know how to read him. There’s that surprise, as well, but then he looks down before you can tell anything else. Not that that changes much. He’s barely looked at you today.

You haven’t talked to him since New Year’s Eve. You had other things on your mind, and then he didn’t show up at the library last Wednesday.

“What do you mean, you won’t be coming?” Jin asks. “You always come to parties.”

You shrug. You don’t miss the alarmed looks your friends are exchanging, and you’re sure Namjoon can see through you. Because it’s not like you to do something like that, whatever reason you may give.

“I don’t like them. They’re too loud, and I can’t say that I really enjoy standing alone for half the night.”

“You could stay with us,” Namjoon offers.

“And watch you pick up a girl every time? No thank you,” you reply with a disgusted shiver.

“You could stay with me,” Yoongi says.

You give him a look, and he grimaces, backing down immediately. Okay. He can see why you wouldn’t want that either. Plus he’s pretty sure that Jimin and him are about to get it on after weeks of flirting, so it’s probably not a great idea.

“What about me?” Jin asks. He doesn’t sound as energetic as usual, his voice almost quiet, and you realize that he probably feels bad because of what you said. He knows you come to those parties because of him, so knowing you don’t have fun at all when you’re attending — you understand that he might feel responsible.

“I think I would bore you very quickly,” you chuckle. “You’re not going to get the fun you want with me. But it’s fine, really. I tried it, and now I know it’s not for me. I can just—”

“No,” Taehyung says.

You blink.

“No?”

“I’m taking this personally,” he tells you, looking you dead in the eye. “You’re coming to this party and I’m going to make you enjoy yourself.”

You’ve never seen him so serious, and you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

“Taehyung,” you say softly when you’re done. “I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, then winces and closes it. You’re not sure what happened there, but he gives Jungkook an offended look.

“I’m sorry,” you add. “I’m sure your parties can be great, but—”

“I get it,” he sighs. “But you owe me.”

You’re not sure why, but fine.

“And you can’t say anything bad about those parties, to anyone. Ever.” In that moment, he looks almost threatening, and you blink, confused. He can’t possibly take it that seriously, can he?

Then he yelps and rubs his leg. He gives Jungkook another annoyed look, but Jungkook doesn’t even look up from his food.

“Leave her alone,” he just mumbles.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t add anything. He does give you a long, pointed glance, though, before muttering under his breath something that sounds a lot like “I won’t let that slander stand,” and you think that’s hilarious too.

When you risk a glance at Jungkook, his arms are folded over his chest, and he looks deep in thought. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes focused on his meal, though he’s not touching it. It’s stupid, but the image of a child that has just been scolded flashes in your mind.

“Jungkook? Is everything alright?”

He jumps at your question, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes meet, but it’s extremely brief, and your chest tightens. This sucks. You thought the two of you had gotten past that now, and you hate that you lost what you had. It’s not like it’s your fault. He kissed you, and then he bailed on you first chance he got. Why would he do that, why would he risk it, if he was going to react like that afterwards?

“I’m fine,” he says with a tense smile, and you doubt it’s true, but you don’t know what you should ask him to confront him about it. You don’t want to talk about the kiss ever again. You certainly don’t want to do it in front of your friends.

So you jump on the first chance you get to leave the table. You don’t ask yourself if it’s a weird thing to do. It probably is, but fuck it, you’re weird, and everyone else can deal with it. You refuse to subject yourself to something unpleasant longer than absolutely necessary.

Except the looks you get are mostly concerned ones, from Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook does look up as you walk away, eyes following you almost longingly, and then he lets out a long sigh that catches Taehyung’s attention. He doesn’t say anything, but he narrows his eyes at him.

God. He really has to get everything done here, doesn’t he?

At first, you think that this is it. Your— your whatever it was that you had with Jungkook is over. You’ll see him around every now and then, and maybe he’ll give you a polite nod, though it doesn’t look like he would even do that right now, but there won’t be anything else. You’ll go back to being basically strangers, and it will be fine, because really, nothing happened there, right? You had a crush on him, he kissed you once, and then nothing. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

Sure, it makes you a little sad. Sure, you catch yourself looking at him while he’s surrounded by girls who are all so much better for him than you ever were, and it hurts a little. Sure, walking back home alone at night is a little more unpleasant than it used to be, but that’s the thing. It’s only a little. You would almost pat yourself on the back for it. Congrats, (Y/N). You made it out before you got too attached. You probably avoided a world of hurt.

Because you know. You know that if you had gotten in too deep, it would have hurt like hell to not have Jeon Jungkook. And sure, it hurts right now.

But only a little.

You’re good. You’re safe. You know that Namjoon and Yoongi would nod if you told them about it. They understand, in a way a lot of other people don’t. You don’t think that Jin would, for example. He would tell you to take the risk, not understanding that people like Jungkook used to pick you last for their teams when you were in high school, not understanding that as far as you’re concerned, you’ve handled more than enough rejection throughout your life. But Namjoon and Yoongi… They’re definitely more successful than you in matters of the heart, but they would still understand. Not that you’re going to tell them about it, because it’s a stupid story, because there never was anything there, and because you’d feel really dumb talking about how you thought, how you hoped that— You’re not going to tell them anything. At least everything’s okay now.

And then, Jungkook appears at your usual table at the library on a Wednesday afternoon. He drops his bag on the floor and takes a seat next to you. You’re surprised to see him when you look up, too focused on your studies to notice him approaching. He has big, wide doe eyes, and he watches your reaction carefully.

“You’re— This seat isn’t taken?”

You shake your head. No. People rarely come here, and you don’t really study with people. Well, didn’t, you suppose.

“Do you mind if I sit here?“

“The seat’s free. You can take it if you want.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You never considered that Jungkook would— That he would—

“I, um, I like studying with you. It helps me focus,” he says, eyes flickering away from you. “So, if you don’t mind I’ll— Can I come back here on Wednesdays?”

You want to tell him that you can’t stop him, that he can do whatever the hell he want, but even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, you don’t.

“Of course you can,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks up long enough to flash you a smile, and you know. This isn’t over, and you’re not going to be fine. You’re probably going to feel crushed, sooner than later, and you could have stopped it all right now.

You think about Yoongi and how not like him it is to be doing what he is with Jimin. How he’s taking a risk. How it could oh so easily not have paid off.

It’s going to, of course. You just need to look at Jimin’s eyes when he’s talking to Yoongi to know that. But Jungkook doesn’t look at you like that. Jungkook doesn’t look at you at all.

And yet here you are. Taking that exact same risk.

God. You can be so stupid some times.

Jungkook glances at you quickly while you’re deep in thought, tapping your pencil against your cheek, and a small smile forms on his lips. He’s quick to glance away, because he would hate it if you caught him, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade.

He couldn’t have forced it to do so if he tried.

“You have to come to the next game.”

“Taehyung, hey, nice to see you to, I’m doing fine, I—”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I know you hate basketball and everything that breathes, but—”

“I don’t hate you.”

“—this is really important and— Wait, really? Thank you. I feel that means a lot coming from you.”

“Is that how you see me? I don’t hate everyone, Taehyung.”

“Can you give me a list of people you don’t hate?”

“Well, you, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon…”

“Jungkook?”

“…Sure. Jungkook. Why do you want me to come to the next game?”

“Because we might lose.”

“And I’m supposed to change that how?”

“You owe me, remember?”

“I— Because of the parties? Seriously? I need to sit through hours of you guys running after a ball because I don’t like parties?”

“I would really appreciate it if you could avoid describing basketball as ‘guys running after a ball’.”

“I would really appreciate not having to go watch the game.”

“Don’t you want to support your friends on the team?”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be there. Just— stop that thing you’re doing with your eyebrows. Why are you even doing that?”

“You’re so slow. How are you so slow? I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Taehyung…”

“Just be there!”

“I will.”

“You better!”

“Or what, what will you— Taehyung! You can’t just run off like— Well. I guess he could.”

You hadn’t thought sitting through a basketball game could become a more painful experience to you than it already was. As it turns out, you were wrong. It was so much worse when the people you wanted to win were losing. Despite yourself, you found yourself getting invested, standing up and shouting encouragements along with Jin and Namjoon, and protesting loudly when things didn’t go your way.

You were not cut out for this. Not because you still didn’t understand half the rules — you could have by now if you had made the effort of memorizing them — but because of the stress. God, how did your friends handle that regularly? How did the players handle it? You kept looking at Jungkook. You could tell how unhappy he was with the situation, could see the disappointment settling in. He also seemed to get more nervous as time went by, which didn’t help his performance, and his words kept echoing in your mind.

”I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

You’re half way through the game and things are not looking good when Taehyung waves you over. You run to the railway, straining to hear him, and when you finally understand what he’s saying, you regret making any effort at all.

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

But he is.

“You owe me, (Y/N)!”

“I’m already— What’s it even going to do?”

“Trust me on that one, okay?”

You glare at him, but he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes, and there’s nothing you can do against that. You sigh deeply. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest just thinking about what he’s asking you to do. Maybe it’s not such a big deal for him, that sort of stuff, but for you— For you it’s downright insane to even consider.

“Kim Taehyung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “if this goes bad, I’ll kill you and plant your head on a stick outside of my door to warn my enemies not to underestimate me.”

He has the audacity to shrug at that.

“It won’t go bad.”

You look up. Take a deep breath. And call Jungkook’s name.

The gym is insanely loud, and it takes both you and Taehyung’s efforts, as well as a lot of waving, for Jungkook to notice you. When he does, though, he runs towards you, worry obvious on his face. He’s looking directly at you for once, and the intensity of his stare almost makes you shiver.

“Is everything alright?” he asks when he gets there, eyes scanning you quickly to make sure that you’re okay.

“It’s fine, I just—”

“What are you doing here? You hate basketball. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. You don’t know how you’re supposed to do this, especially when he’s looking so puzzled and when he’s questioning your sanity for showing up at one of his games. You glance over at Taehyung who gives you a decided nod.

Ah. Fuck it.

Leaning over about as far as you can go, you cup Jungkook’s face, and as his expression turns to one of surprise, you kiss him. If people around notice or have a reaction, you can’t tell, because Jungkook pushes himself against you and buries his hand in your hair as he holds you. There’s not much space left for thinking in your mind, instead entirely consumed by thoughts of him. He’s completely sober this time, and you don’t taste alcohol on his tongue. He’s also not going as slow, almost desperately kissing you back, one strong hand supporting you so you don’t fall over, and you just melt.

It takes everything in you to push yourself away. When you do, you’re breathless, and he’s staring at you with eyes even wider than usual. You’re pretty sure Taehyung would want you to give an encouraging speech right now, but you don’t want to do that right now.

“I really don’t care if you’re winning or losing games,” you say instead. “If you’re sad, I’ll be sad with you, but it’s never going to change anything in how I see you. But I’ll be here encouraging you.”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight.

“Promise?” he asks, almost childishly.

You’re not sure which part he’s referring to, but they’re all true, so you nod.

“I promise.”

He smiles, and then both him and Taehyung are running back across the field and getting yelled at by their coach, but even from where you’re standing, you can see their smiles.

You guess that means you’re not going to murder Taehyung.

“This is actually insane. How is Jungkook even doing that?” Yoongi asks in disbelief after Jungkook scored extremely impressively yet again, and you fidget in your seat. You’re very happy to see that, though you don’t how you feel about the smug looks Taehyung is sending you, but you don’t want—

“It’s the power of love,” Jin says, nodding like he just gave an essential truth to the meaning of life.

—this. You, very specifically, don’t want this.

“Jin,” you sigh, “there’s no such thing as—”

“Actually,” Namjoon interrupts you, “I think he’s right. The power of love is a thing, and I think this is a perfect demonstration of it.”

You gape at him, in shock. He betrayed you?

“Did you just—”

“Namjoon’s right,” Yoongi nods. “This is how the power of love works. You take love, and you turn it into strength.”

And then, him, Jin and Namjoon high five, and you gasp. Traitors. All of them.

But after that, Jimin says off-handedly “Maybe you should come and kiss me before my next competition” and Yoongi’s brain visibly stops functioning, so you consider yourself avenged.

After the match, you wait for Jungkook outside of the locker room. Jin insisted you should go celebrate on the field, but you had declined. It felt like the situation required something a little more private, so now you’re here, leaning against the wall, looking at your phone so you’ll seem busy, even if there’s nothing on there to occupy yourself.

You’re not the only one there, and that doesn’t help soothing your nerves. There are a lot of girls, all pretty and smiling. It makes you feel like a groupie, and you don’t like it. You’re relieved for a second when the door opens and the team comes out, but it doesn’t last long, because the girls are soon surrounding them. You remain where you were standing, watching the whole thing happen. It takes a few moments before you notice Jungkook’s bun standing out of the group, and it makes you smile.

You catch Taehyung’s eye first, and, after you’ve sent him a glare that you hope was threatening, he pushes Jungkook out of the group. At first, he seems confused, before he finally finds you. You wave at him hesitantly. He blinks a few times, his eyes wide, then walks towards you.

“Hey,” he says when he joins you. He’s towering over you. Usually, you don’t like that, and you’ve complained about having to look up at Namjoon more than once, but you don’t necessarily mind right now.

“Hey,” you reply.

Silence stretches between the two of you as you try to think of something to say. You should have prepared a speech, you know that, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to say it either.

“Taehyung told me he told you to kiss me,” Jungkook blurts out after a while, looking away from you, and you give him a surprised glance. “So, you don’t have to—”

“No, I wanted to kiss you,” you interrupt him, a puzzled frown forming on your face.

Jungkook’s head whips back towards you, and you just stare at him in confusion.

“Do you really think I would have kissed you just because Taehyung asked me to?”

“Well you— you came to the game because he asked you to, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“Jungkook!” someone from the team calls. “We’re going to grab a bite to celebrate, do you wanna come?”

Jungkook sighs, then gives you a sharp look.

“You wanted to kiss me,” he repeats.

You nod.

“Why?”

You bite your lower lip, and you’re not oblivious to the way his eyes fall to your mouth when you do.

“And I’m the blunt one,” you mumble.

“Sorry, I–”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just— I wanted to kiss you because I like you. Obviously.”

Jungkook swallows, and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looks over his shoulder at his friends.

“You can go without me!”

There are some protests, but he ignores them to give you his entire attention. It’s… not an unpleasant feeling.

“You disappeared after I kissed you the last time,” he says.

“You left,” you protest immediately. “You kissed me, and then the second your friends arrived, you acted like nothing happened and you left.”

“I didn’t want to— I just— They’re really annoying about that stuff, you know? I thought it would probably be better if I talked to you after— ‘m sorry. I didn’t— didn’t realize it—”

You look at Jungkook, watch him fumbling for words, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, how much you do like him. Those words really don’t do it justice, and maybe you’re not quite ready to talk about love just yet, but you like him so much, so much it makes your heart swell, so much you don’t think what what he’s trying to tell you would change anything to it, and yet what he’s trying to say is exactly what prompts your realization. He didn’t want to hurt you. Wanted this to be private, for just the two of you, wanted to see how you felt about it. And maybe he went the wrong way about it, but it means everything that he was trying.

“Walk me home?” you ask.

Jungkook finally stops his rambling.

“Are you sure?”

Of course, he has to ask that now, after weeks of trying to convince him to let you walk on your own. Still, you smile and nod, and when you start walking side by side, you grab his hand. He freezes temporarily before grinning and squeezing your hand, pulling it into his pocket so you won’t be too cold, because the air of January is chilling.

“Congratulations for the game,” you say after a long, comfortable silence. You had almost forgotten about it.

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I had some help.”

And then, he winks at you, and your heart misses a beat. That’s when you understand something you hadn’t even considered before: if Jungkook stops being shy around you, you’re done for. You’ll be the one constantly flustered.

“So,” you say, slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, “why did you kiss me?”

“Um. Same as you?” Jungkook’s confidence disappears, and he returns to his awkward self, and you see that, as much as you like it, you want him to be comfortable around you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask innocently.

He gives you a horrified look that soon turns to an offended one when he notices you grinning widely.

“You’re so mean,” he says, but he’s smiling too, “you’re the meanest person I know.”

You’re laughing at that point, as you stop in front of your dorm.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I kissed you because I like you.”

It’s funny. You knew that was what he was going to say, knew it was coming, and yet it gets to you all the same.

“With you, I don’t feel like I have to be the school’s star, you know? I can just be— Jungkook. You don’t expect me to be anything else.”

He’s right. You like Jungkook. With his insecurities and his flaws. You don’t want him to perform for you, and you don’t care what he’s doing right and wrong. Just studying maths in the library with him makes you happy.

He eyes your dorm and takes a deep breath.

“I should go,” he says.

You hum.

“Yes, it would be a really bad idea if you came up tonight.”

But you’re not letting go of his hand, and he’s close to you now, close enough that you can feel his breath catching in his throat. It makes you smile.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats.

This time, instead of laughing, you kiss him, and it’s completely different from the two previous times. There is no uncertainty in this kiss, no surprise, no pressure, no fear. It’s perfect. Jungkook’s hand comes to cup your cheek, his lips soft against your own. His long fingers gently stroke your jaw as he keeps the kiss chaste and sweet. It only makes you yearn for more and when he moves away, you can see in his eyes that he wants more as well.

You just don’t think he wants it now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” you ask.

“I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says solemnly, and it rings like a promise, which makes you smile.

When you move away, though, he doesn’t let go of you, and a pouty expression appears on his face before he releases you.

“I— Yeah. You should go.”

“You can come up if you want to, you know?”

He hesitates, rolls his lips together.

“I want to savor this,” he admits to you in a near whisper.

“Then I’ll go.”

“Yes. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You feel light and giddy as you walk through the door. It’s a nice and strange feeling, like you could just start floating any second.

You already can’t wait for the next day.

People are definitely weirded out by your relationship with Jungkook. Or, rather, by Jungkook’s relationship with you. You’re pretty sure most of the people who give you weird looks when you sit next to him and he wraps his arm around you, or when you walk hand in hand, wouldn’t pay attention to you if you went to class naked. But they all know who Jungkook is, and you guess it is weird to see you in conjunction with him.

They could ignore it and consider you mere part of the scenery when he ate with you, you suppose, but it is harder to do now. You’re not too fond of being the center of attention, to be honest. You don’t know how Jungkook does it.

What takes you by surprise the most is people being nice to you. That confuses you to no end, because you know for a fact they don’t care about you, not really, and you cannot fathom what they think they’re going to get out of this. You’re pretty sure there are a girl or two who are doing that to get closer to Jungkook, and some, you think, have decided to be nice to you because they think that if Jungkook likes you, you can’t be a total lost cause.

You don’t like that feeling. Not at all. You don’t like it when you’re going to class, you don’t like it during lunch, and you definitely, definitely do not like it when people rush towards you the second you get to a party.

Yeah, you’re giving Taehyung what he wanted, in the end. He said that both you and Jungkook owed him, because without him you wouldn’t be together, and you eventually gave in.

You thought it would be fine, now that you have someone to spend time with, but you understand with horror that your status has changed now. You’re not invisible anymore. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriendTM. Because of that, you spend much longer in the entrance making small talk than you would have wished to, and you’re stopped a couple of times while you’re desperately looking for your boyfriend to save you from this hell on earth.

You’re not surprised at all to find him playing beer pong with Taehyung and other guys from the team. He hasn’t gotten time to get drunk yet, so he’s quite impressive, but then again, they all are. That’s why they usually end up wasted.

The second he sees you, though, he abandons the game completely, and the smile on his face threatens to make your heart explode in your chest. Some of the guys turn around to look at you, give you a wave or a smile. Taehyung shouts a greeting.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips. He doesn’t like PDA all that much, but he never misses a chance to kiss you, and the thought makes you all giddy.

“Hey. Are you, um, having fun there?”

He shrugs.

“It’s not that bad. Wanna play?” He waits for your expression to turn to one of horror as you try to refuse politely before laughing. “Just kidding. Don’t worry about it.”

You let out a relieved breath. You know you and Jungkook are very different people, and you’re doing your best to take an interest in the things he likes. You’ve been learning the rules of basketball, for example, and though you still don’t believe you get the point, you like the way his eyes shine when you say something right about a game.

But you don’t take part in any of that stuff. Okay, you stop at that field that’s on your way home from the library every now and again, but that doesn’t count. It’s just you and him then, and you feel good and relaxed. You’ve even scored a couple of times now.

“Come on, I want to grab a drink,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, and you follow without protesting.

It’s probably your second mistake of the night: not realizing that getting a drink with and without Jungkook are two very different ordeals. On your way there, you get roped into several conversations. Those are fine. You can’t say you enjoy them, but they’re fine, and it’s not like those people are actually talking to you anyway.

What you genuinely dislike is that, when you’re by the table with the drinks, a girl starts openly flirting with your boyfriend. It’s not subtle, either, with the way she keeps touching his arm and how she laughs at his every word.

For a while, you just stare in disbelief. You know Jungkook is oblivious to that sort of things — probably one more reason why he likes how blunt you are — but you can’t believe her. You wouldn’t necessarily blame the girl for trying, either, if she didn’t know about you. Jungkook’s quite the catch after all, and you understand liking him better than anyone else.

No, it’s the fact that she’s doing it right in front of you, while Jungkook is holding your hand. It feels so— dismissive. So insulting. She’s not exactly saying to your face that she doesn’t take you seriously, but she might as well.

You watch incredulously when she puts her hand on his arm one more time. You don’t know how you’re supposed to handle that, so you just tug on Jungkook’s hand a little awkwardly. You’re pleased by how quickly his attention snaps to you, even while the girl is in the middle of her sentence. It’s a petty sentiment, for sure, but you can’t help it.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “Is it too loud in here?”

“Kind of, but—”

“Let’s find you a quieter place.”

He forgets about the drink he wanted to get, forgets about the girl, who he abandons there unceremoniously, gently pulling you through the room. Next thing you know, he’s carefully closing the doors of the closet he’s found for the two of you behind you.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Better?”

You chuckle at that and, guessing for him in the half-light, you pull him towards you for a kiss. You press your body against his, pushing him against the back of the closet, and a groan forms in his throat. His hands tighten around you, sending shivers through your entire being, and you only lean into him more. You run your fingers over his chest, just to feel him tremble under your touch and he does, hissing with pleasure at the contact.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth. “Was that— was that what you had in mind?”

You shake your head, and he’s close enough to feel it.

“That girl was flirting with you,” you tell him.

“Oh. Are you sure?”

You are.

“So… are you jealous? Because that’s kind of hot.”

You laugh softly. Truth is, you really, really don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend, but Jungkook actually sounds happy about the idea.

“You really didn’t notice?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I didn’t. Does that— Did it bother you, that she was doing that?”

“Kind of,” you shrug. “What about you? You’re— cool with that?”

“If it bothers you I don’t like it,” he replies simply, one of his hand leaving your waist to grab yours and squeeze it gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

That makes you chuckle.

“How didn’t you? She would have made it barely more obvious if she had started undressing herself.”

Jungkook has an awkward laugh, and you can feel his breath on your face. He starts fidgeting, but then you press a kiss right at the corner of his lips, and he calms down, if just a little.

“It’s— You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

He hesitates a second longer, as though he’s trying to judge your sincerity by looking at you — except, of course, he can barely see a thing in here. You kiss him again, following his jaw, and he finally gives in when you start making your way down his neck.

“When I’m with you, it’s like my vision narrows on you,” he says, voice low. “I know everything and everyone else is still there, but I just think about you. Sorry, it’s really stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say, shaking your head, wondering if he can feel your heart beating stupidly fast in your chest, all because his words make you feel like nothing else ever has before. “But I’m— I’m kind of boring. That can’t be fun.”

“You’re not boring,” he protests. “You listen to people, even when you don’t look like it. You always look like you have a thousand things on your mind but you always make time for your friends, and when you’re studying here, you play with your hair.” He twirls a lock of your hair around one of his fingers before releasing it, as if to demonstrate. “You’re a very, very interesting person to look at.”

The only thing you can do is stay there, frozen in his arms, after he’s said that. You may be blunt, but Jungkook is honest. Devastatingly so. His vulnerability always shatters the walls that you’ve built around yourself, and you still don’t know how to react when that happens.

So you push yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again, except this time it’s slow and gentle and you’re trying to put everything he means to you into it. The tip of your fingers are on his cheeks, your mouth barely moving against his, soft noises filling the closet. Jungkook remains still, letting you in complete control, like he’s afraid he could break you if he moved.

“Thank you,” you whisper when you pull away from him.

“For what?” he asks, breathless.

“For being here with me tonight, and for coming with me at that first party.”

“Of course. Any time.”

He lets himself fall to the floor, taking you down with him and keeping you into his lap once he’s done that. You rest your head against his chest. You hear the noises of the party still going on outside, but Jungkook is your island of peace in the middle of the chaos.

“I think I’m going to stop basketball,” Jungkook blurts out without a warning, and you look at him, surprised.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. Really. I just— I don’t want to be doing that anymore.”

You think about it for a few seconds, then nod.

“You probably should stop, in that case.”

“People are… not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m sure Taehyung won’t be mad at you. Well, not for too long.”

He laughs softly, but his hold on you doesn’t relax, and you know that this was hard for him to even consider. You know it’s a terrifying decision to take, too.

“Thank you,” he says. “For being here with me tonight, too.”

“Any time.”

The truth is, you wouldn’t give that moment away for anything in the world, and something tells you Jungkook wouldn’t either. It’s not ideal, it’s not perfect, but you don’t believe there is such a thing, and you’re happy to satisfy yourself with the imperfect.

But any moment you can spend in Jungkook is as close to perfect as can be.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, and you think that he might feels the same way, which almost makes you burst with happiness.

“And I love you,” you whisper back.

Not perfect, perhaps. But close enough.

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