#if there's something that strikes anyone as unfair please let me know

[sheyfu]

yappologist degree holder ༊*·˚

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗩𝗢𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 about you.

feat. dan heng, aventurine, luocha, jing yuan, gepard, jiaoqiu, argenti and moze (gn!reader)

cw. ooc (very); jiaoqiu talks a lot; [slight] sexual innuendos

note. TRYING SOMETHING NEW GRAHHHHHH i dont think i captured their personalities correctly but 🙏🙏 WE BALL LAMSDOASDI i hope you guys enjoy it >:DD reader is identified as [name] and uses they/them prns (GANG I TRIED MY BEST LAMSDOAMSD) if you see me use fem prns in this piece please tell me <3 lmk if you'd like a pt. 2 w other chars (WOMEN ASHDUASHDUH)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ DAN HENG

about [name] [name]? what about them?

chat: significant other  [name] is my significant other. aside from the express, they’re one of the only ones keeping me grounded whenever i become… “emo”. their words, not mine.

chat: sleep sleep is something i found hard to come by; everytime i closed my eyes, visions of my past appeared. but now that [name] is by my side, it has become easier to fall to a peaceful rest.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ AVENTURINE

about [name] through a game of life or death is how [name] and i met. hm? unconventional you say? well, it’s one of the reasons why i fell for them.

chat: bet betting has become an integral part of [name] and i’s life. while it’s not a common way of expressing your love for someone, it’s how we do things. whether those bets entail having to have the other run errands or even give your own life up, it sends spikes of adrenaline up our bones resulting in a very fun game of cat and mouse.

chat: loss there are seldom games i lose — and most of the time, i still somehow come out as, partially, a winner. but for some reason, whenever i offer a game of chance against [name], i seem to lose every game we have. i can’t lie, i get somewhat annoyed at how i can’t seem to win a game against them. but then again, life would be dull if it were just an unending series of wins.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ LUOCHA

about [name] [name] is a travelling merchant i’ve come to know over the past years of my journeys as one myself. if i didn't have anyone to rely on before, i've got my dearest to thank now. 

chat: bargain as a merchant, it is important for me to know how to bargain, especially when deals presented to me are severely unfair for me. i must admit, i wasn’t very good at striking fair deals when i was starting off my path as a travelling merchant. but over the years, [name] has taught me a lot about this art. by observing their ways of negotiating, i am now able to attain very fair and valuable trades. 

chat: aromatherapy with [name]’s upbringing as an herb specialist, i get to experience their family’s aromatherapy service. with every scent i am presented with, i am able to clear my mind and slip in the embrace of solitude and calm. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JING YUAN

about [name] [name] is someone who can ease my troubled mind with an embrace; the calm in my storm, the light of my life, and the heart of my soul.

chat: birds when little birds flock to my head, my spouse wonders if im this character called… snow white… *sigh* i am not sure as to who that is due to my upbringing as a military leader — i had no time for these trivial tales. but whenever they tell tales about this... gizney? no.. bizney? not quite right either.. ah yes, disney princess, the intent of me being dressed with robes of royalty are reflected in their eyes.

chat: mimi what was once a kitten, has now grown into a ferocious little lion. i remember when i first got her, [name] was all over the poor thing — smothering it with their love and words of praise — mimi didn’t complain though, she let herself get spoiled. and even up until now, she’s still that same, little spoiled lion she is. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ GEPARD

about [name] [name] is my significant other – how i was able to catch their eye? i don’t know. sometimes, i doubt my ability to love, especially with my role as the captain of the silvermane guards. but whenever those thoughts appear in my mind, [name] is there to quell my uneasy mind.

chat: family the way [name] treats lynx makes me feel… funny. i can’t really describe it but my heart beats whenever they entertain my little sister. oh, and don’t even get me started with how serval treats them. *sigh* what should i do to ease this beating heart of mine?

chat: de-stress ways on how to de-stress? well, after a long day i am usually greeted with the embrace of my beloved once i step into our abode… then after that i’m littered with- o-oh.. apologies. i was supposed to give advice. let’s start over again, shall we?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JIAOQIU

about [name] [name]? you want to now about them? well you see, as general feixiao’s doctor, it is important for me to have assistants whenever patients visit the clinic in a time when i am tending to duties involving her – this is where my dear [name] comes in. they’ve been with me from the start; us being classmates in the medicinal school we attended and all that. they’re easily one of the very dearest people in my life. most people only know them as my assistant due to their preference of upholding a “low-profile”; of course, i am very much alright with it. but when time comes and they’re ready to reveal our bond to the world, i’ll be the happiest man in the whole entire cosmos.

chat: sweets  oh? you liked the sweets i gave you? well, you have my dear [name] to thank. they’re quite the connoisseur when it comes to making them. speaking of sweets, i forgot to mention we have a pastry shop in aurum alley. if you’re able to drop by, i’ll consider giving you a bundle of sweets, and probably other pastries, free of charge.

chat: coriander whatever you do, please do not hand me a bunch of coriander. i will absolutely lose my mind having to deal with a coriander-obsessed lover. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ARGENTI

about [name] my love for [name] transcends even the distant stars of the cosmos. my heart, my soul, and my own being belong to them. 

chat: roses roses are my beloved’s favourite flowers, as they are mine. every morning, i wake from my peaceful slumber to see my dear tending to the beds of flowers with a gentle smile on their face that makes me fall in love all over again. *sigh* i miss them so much, trailblazer.. please bring me back to my ship. i would like to sink into my lover’s embrace at this moment. 

chat: baking my beloved takes time to make my preference for thick baguettes each and every morning. while it warms me to receive such a valuable gift, i am not sure if i am deserving of their unconditional love for i am just a mere knight of beauty, idiotically searching for the goddess i’ve devoted myself to.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ MOZE

about [name] i am [name]’s lover. i am bound to them by fate and affection which is why you shouldn’t come close to them — unless you’d like to request an audience with the weapon in my hand.

chat: shadow [name] gets frightened whenever i appear randomly — jiaoqiu tells me it’s a normal reaction as he too, gets startled whenever i show my face to him. although.. im not quite sure how my sudden appearance has them stunned...

chat: cleaning [name] and i share the same hobby of cleaning. whenever i am relieved of my duties assigned by the general, i watch them- no. they tell me of the rather… unconventional ways of cleaning our abode.

tagging: @ayrastv, @whatisnerotypical, @lia-loves

🐈‍⬛: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!

if you'd like to be part of my taglist, please access the gform below! thank you and hope to see you <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[afterdarkprincess]

The Devil's In the Details (But You got a Friend in Me)-Part 1

Surprise I'm back :)

This started from a very cute prompt, which I haven't even gotten to the meat of yet, but it sent my brain down so many fun rabbit holes that this little oneshot I had in my mind has grown.

SO- I've gotten what I think is about a third of what this will be written, and I wanted to go ahead and share.

If anyone would like to be tagged in the rest of the parts please let me know, this will also go up on AO3 when it's completed.

Samijey Endgame AU from the Royal Rumble :)

---

Jey Uso is tired and stressed. Even more than usual. The tag titles are heavy on his and Jimmy’s shoulders, with attacks coming from the whole roster and without any back up, the constant barrage is wearing on them both.

Solo hasn’t been around his brothers much, mostly spending one on one time with the Tribal Chief, doing god knows what. Both Roman and Paul keep assuring him that he’s still the Right Hand Man, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.

Jey trusts his gut, and his gut is saying something’s not right with his little brother, but there’s not much he can do about it with Roman involved.

And it’s not like Roman’s there to back them up either. Not so much as one appearance to strike fear into their opponents.

As for their other backup, the Honorary Uce?

--

Sami put his body on the line for their family week in and week out for months, proving his loyalty over and over again. Finally it caught up with him.

Roman put the man on trial just for him to get his knee blown out taking a hit meant for Jey.

The match was over, with Roman victorious again over Kevin Owens, but of course that wasn’t good enough, parading the rest of them out to deal devastating chair shots to the strung up man.

Roman handed a chair to Sami, a final test, but Sami saw what the rest of them didn’t.

The redhead pushed the tribal chief out of the way before grappling with Drew McIntyre, who’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Sami took a brutal fist to the face and was down, Jimmy took his opportunity to go after Drew but suddenly there were more bodies in the ring.

The brawling brutes had joined the fray, seemingly for revenge from the WarGames match.

Jey was distracted with Butch, trying to keep his fingers away from the mangy man and didn’t see Ridge Holland creeping behind him with a fucking bat of all things.

Before he knew it, Sami was pushing him back into the corner, and all he could do was watch as the bat connected with Sami’s knee with a sickening crack.

Jimmy and Solo ran Butch and Ridge back, and Roman took McIntyre out with a spear, but the damage had already been done.

Jey finally got to put a lei on Sami, to welcome him into the family where he belonged. But he had to do it while Sami lay on a stretcher, unable to walk, a smile on his face despite the pain he was clearly in.

It was beyond unfair.

He waited outside of medical with his brothers, anxiously pacing as they checked Sami out. Solo was stone faced as usual, but even Jimmy seemed unsettled.

Finally the verdict came- surgery and at least 6-9 months of rehab. Devastating to a career and similar to the injury that took Jimmy out a few years before. It felt just as gutting as it did then.

He only saw Sami for a brief moment before they transferred him into the ambulance to take him off to the closest hospital qualified to perform the surgery. He looked out of it, eyes bleary and heavy, but Jey grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Thanks, Uce,”

There was more he should have said then. But it would take time to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of his feelings, scrambled and jumbled as they were.

He would find more words, later.

As Jey stood in the ring, mic in hand, the friday after the Royal Rumble. The Bloodline had been given a reprieve for Raw due to the injury to one of their own, but even the tribal chief could only get them so much.

He talked about Sami’s bravery, his loyalty and love for their family. How he’d been tested and passed with flying colors. And ultimately, the price he paid for it.

The news of his injury was already known to the WWE universe, the devil moved fast but twitter was faster. Jey reassured the crowd that Sami Uso was a permanent member of their stable, no question about it, his spot on the island of relevancy assured for his return.

The crowd roared, chants of “Ucey” rang throughout the arena. If there were tears in his eyes that was no one’s business but his own.

He and Jimmy fought a match against the Street Profits after that. Jey ended the match with a Helluva Kick to Montez with thunderous applause.

The ride back to their hotel for the night was quiet and solemn, Jey’s eyes never leaving his phone for long. Sami’s surgery had been successful, but he was still resting up in the hospital in Texas while the rest of them were miles and miles away, and it made him antsy to not be there.

There were unknowns. Sami’s home was ultimately Montreal, and since he was out of action for the foreseeable future, there was no reason for him not to return there for his rehabilitation. And Jey wouldn’t have any explicit reason to go visit more than a handful of times when his schedule would allow.

After all, he hadn’t had much cause to pester Jimmy during his recovery from surgery, leaving the tending to of his whiny ass brother to his saint of a wife.

But Sami would be alone, without any family to speak of.

Surely it was the guilt that was eating at Jey, the knowledge that the bat had been intended for him, that made him feel so uncomfortable at the thought of Sami dealing with this alone.

A resolution comes later, when his cousin graced them with his presence on Raw the following week, seemingly there for a promo for the upcoming Wrestlemania match against the winner of the rumble, the newly returned Cody Rhodes.

Roman gave them their marching order for the evening as per usual, before dismissing Jimmy and Solo to address Jey.

His face was impassive as he spoke, “Sami has been released from the Hospital,”

Jey nodded, trying to keep his face neutral. He had to learn the hard way to keep his true feelings from Roman.

“Wiseman has arranged for a house back home in Florida, where he can recover before rejoining us. As my Right Hand Man, I expect you to keep an eye on things.”

It was a gift, an apology and repayment for his behavior at the trial, and maybe even before that. But of course Roman would not admit that outright.

Relief washed over Jey like a wave, but he just grinned. “Consider it done, Uce.”

He had a few days break after that night, so he would see Sami the next day.

Jey woke at the crack of dawn to catch his flight, filled with nervous energy. He’d received the address for the house from Paul, and had been sent with well wishes from the rest of them.

Solo, who’d looked sheepish as he handed over a stuffed bear with the words “Get Well Soon” emblazoned on a heart in it’s hands.

He grunted, “Gonna miss ‘im”

Jimmy laughed, “Me too, Uce. But we can go down, huh? Can’ let this idiot monopolize Sami’s time!”

The silence, so often filled by Sami’s jokes and rambling, was glaring. These months couldn’t go by quick enough. His family is better together, despite their differences.

—

Jey arrived to the house after a trip to the store, getting everything he might need for himself for a few days and a whole bunch of things for Sami.

He was laden with bags as he knocked on the door, trying to carry way too much as usual.

When there wasn’t an answer right away, Jey felt like a huge idiot. Sami just had knee surgery, how the hell was he gonna get the damn door? He started putting down bags, cussing at himself under his breath and feeling around in his pocket for his keys.

The door opened.

Sami stood there, or rather leaned, since his knee was up on a contraption with wheels.

“Hey man, is all this for me?” The ginger joked.

Jey’s frustration melted away at the sound, and he could feel a smile spread across his face as the rest of the grocery bags fell out of his hands. He enveloped Sami in his arms, letting his fingers cling to the back of Sami’s shirt.

They’ve hugged before, several times now, but this was different; more cautious with no rush of adrenaline to fuel it. Jey hung on for what was probably too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

When he finally let go, Jey tried to laugh it off. “Yeah man, gonna get you all fixed up!” Sami moved to help Jey with the bags, but Jey shooed him off. “Got this’-what you doin’ outta bed anyway, fool?”

Sami laughed, “I got a busted knee, M’not dead.”

“You gonna wish you was dead if you ever pull some stunt like that again, Uce! What was you thinkin’ out there?” Jey put the bags down in the kitchen, passing Sami again to grab the rest of the groceries. There was no real heat in his words, but he needed answers.

The ginger looked sheepish, “Look, Jey- the knee sucks, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t change a thing about what I did at the Rumble.”

Jey looked up from where he knelt, eyes fixated on the other man. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and he was trying his best to ignore it.

“Why?”

Sami shook his head, “I saw Holland with that bat- he may have hit my knee, but he was aiming for your head! No way was I letting you take that.”

Jey bristled, “Man Uce, you’ve taken ‘nough hits for me! Know I said you was bulletproof n’all but obviously you ain’t!”

Its an uncomfortable feeling, after the months of giving Sami a hard time about not bleeding for his family, that now he was so upset at Sami throwing himself in harm’s way again. But Jey supposed that came with seeing the man as a brother now. Like Family. Obviously he doesn’t wanna see his family hurt and injured.

Jey had busied himself with putting the items he brought in away, but when he looked up at Sami’s face, it was soft, his expression unreadable.

“Thanks, Jey,” He replied, his mouth curling into a soft smile.

Jey’s damn heart fluttered again, but he played it off.

“Don’ thank me yet, Uce- you ain’t had Chef Uce-ardee’s famous chicken yet! Just you get comfy somewheres’ n’ let me take care of things, right?”

Sami laughed, but carefully set himself down on the couch, turning the tv on.

The sounds of canned laughter filled the small house as Jey got to work prepping the ingredients for dinner. Putting the marinade together for the chicken and setting it up in the fridge to soak in the flavors.

With the prep work done, he started on a light lunch for himself and Sami, nothing show stopping, just some grilled cheeses with some extra protein. (Turkey for Sami and Spam for himself) A staple of his childhood, and an easy meal on the road.

He plated both their sandwiches, and walked back into the living room to be greeted to the sound of Sami’s soft snoring.

Jey knew he probably should just let Sami nap, after all sleep is the best medicine to recover from injuries and stuff, but something in him just wanted a little peek, just to make sure he was okay.

He stuffed half of his own sandwich into his mouth to keep any noises he might make from waking the sleeping man up, but slowly looked over the top of the couch.

Sure enough, Sami lay on his back, stretched out on the couch despite the bulky black brace on his knee. His hands held his phone, clasped together on his stomach as if he put it down for just a moment before nodding off.

His face was relaxed in sleep, his usually expressive face soft and passive, his light eyelashes just barely noticeable against the pale skin of his cheek.

Jey felt an ache in his chest. That brace was there because of him. Sami was here instead of preparing for Smackdown because of him.

Sami might not have any regrets about the Rumble, but Jey sure did. And he would do anything he could to keep Sami safe from harm going forward.

He sat the plate for Sami on the coffee table in front of the couch in case the other man woke up, and pulled himself away to let him sleep.

Jey kept himself busy for the next few hours, getting his bag inside and settled into the second bedroom in the house. Paul had done a decent job picking the place out, it had everything Sami would need, including a small gym in the basement. It wasn’t large, just the two bedrooms and a bathroom with a bath and shower, plus the living room and kitchen.

It was cosy and homey and just right, light streaming in the windows in the hear of the day.

As the sun began to recede in the sky, Sami finally awoke, groaning as he repositioned himself on the rolleraid.

Jey heard him from the kitchen and came in, hands coming up to steady Sami’s shoulders.

“Still not, ugh- used to this damn thing.” Sami grumbled, “M’okay- what time is it?”

“Okay my ass, Uce. S’almost dinner time! Hope you’re hungry.” Jey helped Sami over to the table and adjusted to sit before returning to the kitchen to get the chicken out of the oven.

It wasn’t the same as grilling them obviously, but without a grill here it would do.

He loaded some plates up with the marinated chicken and rice in a big heap, and brought them out to Sami with a big grin on his face.

“Ta-daaaa! Bone appetite!”

Sami laughed at his poor attempt at french, but immediately dug into the plate and groaned.

“Jey-this is good!”

“Damn straight s’good! You got good taste unlike Jimmy.” Jey puffed his chest out with pride, grinning from ear to ear.

He knows his cooking’s good, obviously. But it’s nice to hear it from Sami.

They talk between mouthfuls, Sami catching him up on everything that happened in the hospital during his stay before asking about what happened on the shows he’d missed.

He got a particularly good laugh out of Sami describing how Montez had sold his signature move in their fight the night before.

When they were both done, Jey cleared the plates away, not letting Sami move a muscle. He was here to take care of Sami damn it, he was gonna even their scoreboards.

Jey tidied up the kitchen efficiently before returning to the table, where Sami has laid out some uno cards, clearly set up for a game.

“What we got here, huh?” Jey laughed, sitting down.

Sami shrugged, “Honestly was kinda worried if I sit back down on that couch I’ll fall asleep, and if I can’t beat someone in the ring, might as well beat you at Uno.”

“Oh, them’s fightin’ words, Uce!”

It felt easy to slip into a familiar card game, a typical pastime on the road in their “hurry up and wait” business. Both of their competitive natures coming out, yelling and slapping at each others hands when they both try to lie and cheat to win.

Jey had more fun playing uno with Sami for those hours than he could remember having in a long time. The stress of the business, Roman, all melted away under the soft light in the house and the sound of Sami’s unrestrained laughter.

When finally both of them started yawning and Jey was down to two cards (without cheating this time), Sami caught him off guard by gently covering Jey’s free hand with his own.

“Uce, I just wanted to say thanks. For tonight, for coming here, for the trial, just for being you.” Sami stared into Jey’s eyes, expression earnest. “It means a lot to me, and I just wanted you to know, yeah?”

“Man…” Jey sighed, dropping his gaze to where their hands were joined. “I should be thankin’ you.”

“Jey-“

“Nah- lemme get this out.” Jey swallowed thickly with the emotion that was creeping up. “You done more for my family, for me, than anybody else. You believed in me even when I was actin’ a fool. You don’ gotta thank me for this, I wanna be here for you, Uce. That’s what family do.”

Sami’s smile made Jey’s chest ache. “Family…”

“Yeah, Uce. I know Roman was probably jokin’ back then, but you really Sami Uso now. You stuck with us.”

That earned a laugh, “Can’t say I’m complaining.”

“Damn straight,” Jey grinned. “And you don’t have to prove nothin’ to nobody.”

Sami’s eyes glistened as he nodded. “I like that, ‘Sami Uso’”

“Me too.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Sami burst into giggles.

“Guess we really ucey now, huh?” Sami teased.

Jey laughed until he could barely breathe.

—

The next few days passed in much the same way, Jey cooking big meals for them to eat (and storing the rest for Sami to eat later) and fussing over Sami in the house as they binge watched TV or played games.

Before Jey knew it, it was Thursday night, the hour way too late for how early his flight was in the morning, but he didn’t want this bubble of time to end.

“You can come back, you know?” Sami teased as Jey yawned for the 5th time in a half hour. “You should get some rest, you’ve got a fight tomorrow!”

“‘Course m’coming back, Sami- Not tired yet.” It was clearly a lie, but he’d rather give Sami a white lie than face the truth that he just wanted more time here with him.

“Sure Uce, and I’m Brock Lesnar.” Sami laughed, and the sound was music to Jey’s ears. “Seriously though, I can’t exactly carry you to bed like this, you’re gonna have to go to bed.”

Jey felt his face heat up as he thought about Sami carrying him to bed bridal style, laying him down softly in bed before lightly kissing-

“-Uce? Hello- earth to Jey?”

Jey was full on blushing, embarrassed at the thoughts he’d gotten lost in.

He stood quickly, “Yeah, you- uh. You right, uce. Yeah, gonna go to bed now.”

Sami looked at him with a curious expression, but didn’t press the issue. “Finally, I’m gonna hit the hey too. What time are you heading out again?”

Jey stumbled out his flight time and said he’d probably be up and leaving around 6.

“Alright, I’ll be up to send you off.”

“You don’t gotta-“

“I do, Jey. I’ll be up.” Sami’s smile was surely meant to be reassuring but it made his heart beat faster.

“Okay,” Jey backed himself up towards the bedroom door. “Uh- Night, Sami.”

“Goodnight, Jey.” Sami pushed himself up to stand and get on his rolleraid to get back to his room, but Jey turned and shut the door.

6am came sooner than he would have liked, but sure enough as he rolled his suitcase out of the bedroom, Sami was there at the table with a cup of coffee and a smile.

They exchanged a quick hug for goodbyes, Jey struggling not to linger in the other man’s arms for too long. He headed out to his rental car, sparing one last glance at the house that felt entirely too much like home for just spending a few days there, before getting in to head off to the airport.

—

More coming soon!

[princesskairi]

Potentially minor, nitpicky criticism to a small section of the Sleeping Realm Theory Doc. Note: This criticism has nothing to do with ship wars (at least that’s the intention!) as the doc has nothing to do with ship wars too.

This is referring to the doc’s analysis of the scene where Kairi and Sora reunite in the light tunnel under the section Riku is Light -> Light in the Darkness. Read more underneath.

————————–

My biggest criticism in this analysis is how it presents Kairi and her importance to Sora in conjunction with Riku. This criticism also calls into question some of the claims used to debunk Kairi as being the light in the tunnel.

To start off, it’s not that I dislike the suggestion that Riku is the light in that scene, it’s that to then follow up and say that Kairi is off to the side then moves and “eclipses” that light from Sora’s view is risky framing whether intentional or not. 

While it might not be the writers’ intentions, it’s dangerous to paint that scene that way without further warning/clarification as it can easily fall into the toxic rhetoric that Kairi is in the way of Sora’s realization about Riku (unfortunately, something that is not uncommon in fanon). It takes a scene that is largely meant to display Kairi’s strength and resolve to protect Sora and shifts its focal point to Sora’s thoughts about Riku, which I feel is rather unfair to one of Kairi’s few spotlights in KH3.

The light can very well be Riku’s in that scene (considering the whole “Riku! Answer me!” analysis), but to present Kairi as “eclipsing” that light, leading readers to pick up a double meaning, and then to say that it is never Sora himself that figures she is his light severely downplays Kairi’s real significance to Sora and how he views her. If it is the case that Nomura intended to have double meaning in Kairi eclipsing the light and mislead the audience to think that she is the light by having Sora claim that she is, then of course my anger would be directed towards him alone. 

The part where the writers bring up a screenshot of Namine telling Sora that Kairi’s his light to emphasize that Sora does not figure it out himself is out of fair play. It’s taken out of context. Namine explicitly tells Sora that because she’s been messing with his memories up to that point. She guides and allows Sora to remember for himself that important connection before putting him to sleep to fix his faulty memories. Even if Namine doesn’t tell Sora that, there is no doubt Sora believes it himself. In fact, Sora has already since equated Kairi to light in KH1 (before Namine reinforces it to him) in his speech with Kairi in Traverse Town. He tells Kairi that it was her voice that saved him from the darkness. When Kairi responds that she didn’t want to forget about him, it is Sora that goes “That’s it! Our hearts are connected and the light from our hearts broke through the darkness. I saw that light.” With the prior context, that’s basically Sora figuring out for himself that “that light” was Kairi’s and the same concepts can be applied to reach and save Riku too. Also, Sora does explicitly conclude on his own in KH3 to Kairi that, “The light in the darkness. It is you”. It’s strange why the narrative that Sora is being misled to think Kairi’s his light (i.e. simply told by others) has to be included to further emphasize the idea that Riku is Sora’s light (esp. when there’s plenty of evidence that Riku is Sora’s light without needing to reevaluate Kairi-centric scenes and call to question Sora’s own revelations about her)? 

————————–

Quote from the doc:

“And so ask yourself this, how is Kairi supposed to be following her own light back?”

Following the same logic, in KH1, how does Kairi, who at the time resides in Sora, also follow the light back to her flashback of her grandmother? Not only that, after her heart is restored to her own body, she tells Sora in Traverse Town, “A light at the end of the tunnel” to which he responds “Oh, your grandma's story right?” and she responds back, “That’s right, we were together”. This shows that Kairi too can in essence “follow her own light back” or at the very least experience that light from an outside perspective. But to leave it open, perhaps this ability is due to the weird oddities from her being in Sora’s body? Or a bolder take is that the light is actually Kairi’s grandmother’s light this entire time! lol! (I highly doubt that this was the intent but who knows! Unless past interviews/Ultimanias can shed some light.) In any case, before one can disprove Kairi being the light on this basis, one needs to also explain this contradiction (considering the doc makes a point that this kh1 scene is meant to be Kairi’s light).

Passage from the doc:

“And if this scene were truly meant to be taken at face value, why do we get these specific visions, inexplicably in the middle of it. Sudden visions of self sacrifice, both referred to as True Love and the reviving power it has. Except, neither Kairi or Sora had sacrificed themselves for just each other at this point, Sora tries to shield her (an act that read as surprisingly desperate and hopeless for the first sign of danger she faced, like he—his heart, remembered she was going to die in this battle no matter what) but Goofy blocked the attack and nothing came of it. And most importantly for all the danger she’s in, none of Kairi’s scenes read as self sacrificial, they read as resigned.”

As for the Disney visions, I do believe that the general takeaway was meant for Sora equating feelings of self-sacrifice, love, and care to his own situation. I do not believe it is exclusively meant for Riku and I do not believe that Kairi can not be equated to these scenes just on the merit that there is no direct self-sacrificial parallel of them in KH3 up to that point. One can argue that even if Goofy came to protect them, that doesn’t lessen the impact that Sora was ready to sacrifice his own danger for Kairi.

In any case, if self-sacrifice is a needed component to link these Disney scenes to someone then Kairi and Sora also have their share as do Sora and Riku. In KH1, Sora sacrifices himself to revive Kairi because of his love for her like how Eugene sacrifices himself for Rapunzel and Anna sacrifices herself for Elsa. Elsa and Rapunzel bring Anna and Eugene back due to their love for them. Same thing happens on Kairi’s end. While Kairi is made of pure light and has no immediate danger in getting pummeled by heartless when she hugs heartless Sora, she herself doesn’t know that she wouldn’t be in danger. That scene could be still interpreted as sacrificial to an extent. Kairi sacrifices her own danger to revive Sora with the power of her light and love for him. Same with Riku, he’s sacrificed himself plenty times for Sora out of his love for him throughout the franchise. These actions are still seen as sacrificial in nature despite Riku not actually dying at the end of it. Riku’s sacrifice (i.e. demon tide) is more recent, so these visions may better equate to Riku esp. with Sora remembering Riku when talking to Anna and others, but considering that this scene is about Sora and Kairi reuniting and Sora showing gratitude towards Kairi, it’s not fair to write Kairi off as not a trigger for these Disney scenes as well.

“This light, that Sora assumes is Kairi, but which she never confirms or denies, a light that led him to Riku’s heart originally. This light begins showing him these scenes of self sacrifice, and Sora makes a confused, jerking motion. And in reaction, Kairi is also confused. Which is weird considering if she’s the light, she would be the one showing him these visions in the first place, right?“

This isn’t quite a fair take. It’s impossible for Kairi to show these visions to Sora as she was not present when those scenes occurred. The same logic should apply to Riku. He was not present when those scenes occurred; he would not be able to show these visions either. So what gives? I don’t believe these visions are being shown to Sora rather Sora is literally remembering these scenes himself and equating them to what he feels right now in his own situation. He jerks up, which causes Kairi to be confused bc she simply can’t know what’s up with Sora’s reaction even if she is able to somehow show these visions herself. She checks to see if Sora’s okay and when she sees that he is, she states, “I told you Sora. You’re safe with me”. 

If what was really meant was that “Riku is the light in the tunnel -> Riku’s light embodies Riku’s self sacrifice, which in turn causes Sora to connect it with his own memories in the Disney worlds” then that’s a different thing and totally valid but was not presented that way in the doc. I also feel that Sora isn’t confused rather in a state of realization and coming back to reality after these visions, which explains why he’s a bit shaken up/disoriented at first with his “Ooh”. Regardless of whose light it is, I firmly believe it is Sora making these connections for himself and not the light showing them for him. Bc of this interpretation, the theory that “Kairi is the light” or “Riku is the light” is not necessarily disproven or illogical on the basis that neither one has been there to experience these Disney scenes. This is different from when the light shows Kairi’s Radiant Garden memories to Sora and is not a perfect parallel but does not need to be.

All in all, Riku’s love for Sora is integral to understand the sacrifices made to facilitate the “drops” and bring everyone to a new worldline, but I personally feel that this specific analysis of Kairi and Sora’s scene does not need to be presented in a way that makes Kairi seem like a misleading device for both Sora and the audience to realize Riku’s love/light. There is no need to disregard Kairi and Sora’s potential connection with the Disney scenes rather than simply show that these scenes are strongly attributed to Riku. There is no need to treat Sora as if he cannot or doesn’t accurately conclude what light means for himself.

I hope my criticism for this specific section does not come off as mean-spirited and I do not want this to be a playground to incite s/hipping wars either bc it’s not even about ships. To make it extremely clear, my criticism does not have to do with ships NOR do I think the theory doc is trying to force a ship onto people either. The word “love” can be interpreted however way you want: romantic, platonic, whatever. I do think that the writers were a bit too quick to dismiss Kairi as the light in this scene and that there was an over emphasis towards Riku in a scene meant to establish Kairi’s importance and I wanted to address that. If it is misreading on my part, feel free to discuss! I don’t want to put words into other people’s mouths. I am open to critique too. This one criticism doesn’t negate all the other interesting insights the doc makes. The doc as a whole is an interesting read and I offer nothing but support and thanks to those involved in the process. 

And who knows, maybe Nomura will come out and confirm that this portion of the doc is right! Then jokes on me but until then, I believe this criticism holds fair.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

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.

[dragonsareourfuture]

Thank you for answering! Could I just have some short head canons on how the Wammy house boys (specifically Near and L) would cheer up their s/o after a hard/tiring day? I just had some money stolen which kinda sucks so it would mean a lot! Thank you again!! I love your writing for both Obey Me and Death Note!

Wammy Boys When Their s/o Has A Bad Day

OH NO DUDE I’m sorry that happened to you!! These are a bit late but of course I can whip up some headcanons! Thanks so much!

Near

- Probably doesn’t even realize you’re upset at first.

- But he’s honestly just very soft when you come home in general so it doesn’t really matter. You have his comfort either way.

- It will probably be later into the evening when he asks you to do something and you have to explain to him that you’ve just had a tough day and would appreciate if you could get some time to just lay around and not worry about anything.

- “Alright. When do you think you’ll get to it, then?”

- Explain to him again that you need to relax. Please don’t snap at him though, he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He’s just trying to plan ahead.

- Once he understands that you relaxing means you actually don’t want to do anything at all, he’ll propose that you put on a movie and play a board game together.

- if you start to lose he’ll make up fake rules that switch everything around so you win or, if that feels unfair to you, he’ll straight up just let you win and not tell you.

- Ugh that little smile he gives you. ‘S too cute. You instantly start to feel better when he sends it your way. That dumb goofy lil grin thing he does. Wow.

- It gets you calmed down/comfortable enough to talk about your shitty day and Near will listen to every single word. He’s the type to offer advice afterwards and recap the story to make sure you know he listened attentively. He wants to make sure you feel heard.

L

- L’s like Near in the way that he struggles to tell that there is something wrong unless you make it incredibly obvious or outright say that you’ve had a rough day.

- When he figures it out he’s just like “Oh. That’s unfortunate. Is there anything you need?”

- He may seem like he doesn’t care but please know that’s not the case. He genuinely wants to know if you need something so that you can feel better and, believe me, if there is he will get it for you.

- Asks Watari to make you “cheer up cake”, which is basically just your favorite flavor. If you’re not a cake fan (how dare) Watari will bring you whatever strikes your fancy.

- L tries to be more empathetic by thinking of times when he felt stuck during a case. Remembering the anguish he felt during those times helps when he’s trying to comfort you.

- “It feels bad now, I know. But you’ll make it out of this. And when you do, you won’t have to feel the hardships of today ever again. Of course, you’ll have to feel the burdens of other hardships later on in life, but that’s later.”

- Turns off the lights if you have a headache so the room is easier on your eyes. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, he’s worked in the dark before.

- Before he even thinks about starting on his work again he makes sure you’re comfy and relaxed.

Mello

- He completely understands the feeling of coming home and thinking “wow what a shitstorm of a day”. He empathizes with you a ton.

- He can’t really verbalize that though. He doesn’t like getting all mushy and talking about feelings (as much as it would benefit him).

- So when Mello senses that you’re angry, bummed, or just plain exhausted, he’ll say the first thing that comes to mind, “Who do I have to fight to make you feel better?”

- Give him someone to fight and he’ll actually start putting on his jacket but will immediately stop and wrap it around you instead if you say you were kidding (If you weren’t he’d actually go beat the shit out of someone like he wasn’t joking either).

- He pulls you over to the nearest couch or bed so you can get comfortable, turns the fan on/off to make it the temperature you prefer, and insists you keep his jacket since you like it so much. If you comment about how attentive and caring he’s being he’ll just say “I know” and move on. Truly does show how he’s more of an actions than words kinda guy, though.

- He then asks if you want to talk about it. If you do, he is the most attentive listener and hype man, it’s unbelievable. if you start ranting, he’s there to agree with your points, listen to your worries, and trash talk anyone who treated you poorly.

Matt

- The moment you walk through the door he’s asking you to sit in his lap and watch him play games/play games with him. He’s hoping the relaxing atmosphere of watching him or the amusement of playing will distract you from whatever’s going on.

- He’ll make casual conversation with you that slowly turns to questions about what happened. You barely see the change, so you answer him honestly.

- He might cook you some food. If heating up frozen food counts as “cooking”. He’s trying. It’s the thought that counts.

- Or if you want some distractions he’ll take you out to get food. He likes to people watch, so he’ll tell you the storylines he makes up for everyone at the restaurant.

- If staying inside is your jam, Matt will pick out a movie you both like and can quote by heart, hoping that the familiarity will ease you from your out of control day.

- His chill attitude really helps you relax from all the stress of the day.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XIX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, attempted assault, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader finds herself at an impasse.

Note: Things are heating up and we're starting to go full force over here <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Days passed in idle anticipation. You kept Elina locked up with you and she grew more restless by the hour. When Lord Zemo came at night, she was happier but your sense of dread and impatience only grew. When the retinue arrived, you only wanted them to leave, but knowing who was roaming just floors below, you were anxious to strike first.

The baron was ever the voice of sense. Zemo was no beacon of morality, you knew that, but his honesty made him respectable. You considered how blatant he was in his intentions as compared to those other noblemen who painted their bad deeds as gifts. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely trustworthy but he didn’t trying to make you think otherwise.

You did your best to keep your daughter occupied with her many toys and quiet songs hummed out of tune. You bounced her on your hip as best you could with your cane in your other hand and crawled around with her like a dog. She was only calm when she slept as she longed for the sunlight that taunted her through the window.

You began to wonder how long the men would stay; how long you would be expected to stay hidden. Zemo mentioned vengeance and you dreamt of it every night. It was the only thing that kept you from quaking in fear and panic.

Tess brought your dinner and you placed it on the low table and sat on the floor with Elina and ate. You gave her tiny morsels to chew on or toss back at you. She was an energetic kid, stubborn and strong, and seemed to find fun in even the most dull tasks. You hoped she would grow up to be happier than you. Surely, she’d be more bold and more blessed.

As you chewed on some chicken, you heard that familiar knock on the door. Tess always gave a tiny tap and called through the wood but Zemo always gave that rhythmic beating. It was the latter, he was early that day. It made you worry as you left Elina to squeeze a piece of sweet potato and stood with your can dug into the wood.

You crossed to the door and turned the latch slowly. You opened the door and leaned heavily on the wooden stick, “well, you are earl--” your voice hung in the air as you stared at the familiar face, though it wasn’t Zemo.

You pushed the door but the man caught it and kept it two inches from the frame as he came closer. Peter’s hand trembled as he clung to the wood and gaped at you. He shook his head and blinked dumbly. The two years had given his face character and his shoulders a little more width.

“You’re alive?” he breathed.

“You can’t-- you have to go,” you pushed the door with a grunt, “please, go.”

“I thought… I thought you were dead,” he croaked, “I thought I--”

“Go away. Please!” you begged, “I can’t talk to you.”

“Or you won’t talk to me?” he challenged as he shoved his foot between the door and the frame, “how--”

“How did you find me?” you gasped.

He lowered his eyes and guiltily and clamped his lips shut. He sniffed and looked at you again, “I thought Zemo was hiding something from us. I followed him last night and listened… I couldn’t hear anything, I only saw him come here and knock.”

“No one else can know,” you said, “you can’t-- please go and don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t but-- I want to talk to you,” he insisted.

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous,” you argued, “you must go. If Zemo discovers you--”

“I don’t care if he does. Don’t you understand, I--I-- I thought I killed you.”

You were silent as you stared into his face. You saw the pain in his eyes, the shock laced with relief. But it was all tinted with the guilt he’d carried since that day. The false guilt you’d given him.

“I’m sorry, Peter, it was the only way out--”

“My aunt cried everyday for you and she never let me forget what you said to me. I never could forget,” he hissed.

“I know, but you have to--” Elina made a noise as she came over and clung to your leg, smearing food down your skirt. Peter looked at her and his lips parted in surprise, “no one can know about her.”

He nodded and gulped. He looked up and down the corridor. “I wouldn’t tell but I can’t go until we talk, I…” his voice cracked, “I need to tell you I was wrong. I lied.”

“El,” you bent to wipe her face and lifted her, “please, stay here,” you bid Peter as you turned and hobbled across the room.

You placed her in her cot, thought she only began to fuss, but you shoved a stuffed caribou into her hands and left her to poke its eyes. You went back to the door and found Peter staring at your cane.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that’s my fault,” he nodded to the cane, “and that,” he looked to the scar down your face, “I saw it. I tried to follow you that day but I wasn’t fast enough and you were--”

“No, it wasn’t you. I said it was because I could. I couldn’t tell the man who made me do this so I told you instead. That was unfair and unkind,” you blinked away tears, “and I hurt more than just myself.”

He mulled your words and picked at his sleeve. He dressed finer than the last you’d met, “I didn’t mean what I said to Barnes. You were sweet to me and my aunt told me what you were, he told me you were worse, but I didn’t truly care. I only knew he was hurting you and I was making that worse so I thought if I stayed away, he’d stop.”

“No one can stop him. No one. Those men, they cannot be stopped. They are evil in the flesh, they are borne to greed and cruelty. They only see what they can get, not what they can give because they won’t ever be denied--”

You heard a clamor, the pounding of footsteps from the stairway, and the frantic breathing of whoever was approaching. You opened the door further and pulled Peter inside. You shut the door and leaned against it with him as you listened and watched through the crack.

“Away, away,” you heard Melinda’s airy pleas as she swept past your door, “please, sir, away!”

“I just want to play a little game,” the deep voice made your blood curdle then the realisation of what he was doing made it boil even hotter. You gripped your cane as Peter frowned at you, “come here, pet, I don’t bite.”

Melinda squeaked as Lord Rogers’ footsteps slowed and you heard the struggle that followed. The muffled collision of her body against the wall, the small girl’s broken breath as it was knocked from her, and his lewd growl as he pounced.

You pushed Peter away from you and tore open the door. They were closer than you thought. Just against the wall opposite your room. Lord Rogers’ body shielded the girl’s body almost entirely. You raised your cane without a second thought and brought it down on his shoulders.

As he exclaimed and staggered, you hit him again, the time in the back of the head. You swooped your cane down and banged his knees so that he fell onto the stone. You hit him again in the side as he wheezed and you stood over him.

“Bastard! Bastard!” you hit him as the young maid and the other lord watched in shock, “how dare you? You beast!”

Peter grabbed your arm and stopped you as Rogers rolled onto his back and coughed. He groaned as he reached to his head and you were pulled away from him. You struggled with Peter as you wanted badly to hit him again.

“Melinda,” you said as you struggled, “go fetch the baron. Now!”

She skittered off like a mouse, careful to tiptoe around Rogers as he sat up and gripped his right shoulder where you’d hit him. He chuckled as he looked up at you. He grinned beneath the trickle of blood on his lips.

“Oh, well, what a treat this is,” he mocked, “the whore lives.”

“You’re vile,” you snarled, “I should bash you like the snake you are.”

“Parker,” he spoke to the man at your side, “hold her for me.” He grunted as he pushed himself up and stumbled a little on his feet, “let us remind her of who she is… oh, Barnes might come out of his rooms for this.”

He reached to his belt but Peter let you go. You looked over at him and he crossed his arms and shrugged. You gripped your cane tight and swung it again. The strike caught Lord Rogers across his chin and the next in the tender flesh of his side. You jabbed his chest so he was again on his back but he could barely get his arms up to keep away the storm of blows.

When he was limp and prone before you, you slowly lowered the cane. You quivered as you stared down at what you’d done. His breaths came in rattles. You leaned on your right leg as your left shook and you lifted the carefully carved stick.

You pulled the silver topper until it dislodged and revealed the long silver blade. Peter caught your wrist as you raised the dagger.

“Don’t, it’ll change you. It’ll make you as bad as him,” he whispered.

You looked at him and your hand shook. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks and you heard Elina murmuring, louder and louder as she wondered where you were. You sheathed the knife and plunked your cane down on the stone.

Footsteps drew you back to the end of the corridor as Zemo appeared from the stairwell. His face dropped as he saw you standing over Rogers. He took a breath but did not look angry.

“Well, I did hope to delay this a little longer,” he said as he approached, “but that Rogers was ever the petulant pest.”

“I’m sorry, he--”

“Oh, I can guess at it,” he nodded to Melinda as she followed meekly behind him, “I’d have done it myself if I had the displeasure of witnessing his lechery.” He came up to Peter and stopped, “but I will do what I must.”

“He won’t hurt us,” you said, “Peter… isn’t like them.”

“But he is loyal to his kingdom,” he pointed at Peter’s chest harshly.

“I am a viscount. Not a duke or earl even. I serve men like that on the floor because I have to, not because I want to,” Peter countered, “I have no lealty to the men who leave women like this.” He looked at you and bowed his head, “but I will admit I am not innocent of it.”

Zemo looked at you and stilled your hand as it was still shaking. "Do you vouch for him, lady?"

"He is a good man. If anything, I have drawn him unjustly into this mess," you said, "I knew you wanted to wait longer--"

"No use in apologies," Zemo grasped your shoulder and squeezed, "this stalemate would not have lasted forever. I am not entirely unprepared."

Elina began to bawl and Zemo brushed past you. He returned with her in his arms, rocking her until she quieted. He cradled her cheek with a mournful gaze and his lips curved for just a moment.

"Be quick, we must leave before the moon. We will move the lord out of the corridor and be away before they can discover him," he said, "by the morning, the castle should be empty but for our foreign visitors and it will take them some time to return to their home with news of such catastrophe."

"Is he dead?" you asked as you looked at Rogers' boots.

"An ox like him? Not yet, just annoyingly on the precipice," Zemo replied, "if we're fortunate, he'll have some lingering detriment but we cannot kill him. That would be an unforgivable mistake."

You heard a grumble and a croaky chuckle. Zemo turned and you looked down on the dazed duke.

"That is a beautiful girl," Lord Rogers rasped, "looks like her father."

Zemo's pupils turned to pinpoints and he handed you Elina. He bent and knocked Rogers across the cheek so that his head bounced off the stone. The baron shook out his hand as he stood straight and his nostrils flared.

"Lord Parker, was it?" He looked to Peter, "help me move him. We haven't time to spare."

[poetrusicperry]

the poets and their first summer jobs

i’ve seen some discourse about how rich all the boys/their families are, and of course there would be like very little reason for them to work, but i couldn’t help wondering who would do what for their first jobs (summer jobs bc they couldn’t work while they’re at school). andddd that led me to writing this lol

neil: so neil would have like absolutely zero time for a job between all his normal coursework/extracurriculars and his summer classes (”you know me, always taking on too much”), but i guarantee you he would still take the time to get a job and have his own money to do with whatever he chose. mr. perry wouldn’t care much because it showed neil “taking initiative” or whatever. neil would likely work at a diner as either a bus boy or a waiter. he’s super personable, so he’d always strike up conversations with people sitting at the counter, and he’d get loads of tips bc he’s cute (: he’d bring his summer school work with him to do during lulls in business, which his boss didn’t mind because it’s neil and everyone knows how responsible he is. the poets would come visit him pretty much every day (to eat, see neil, and escape the heat in the air conditioning), likely taking up a whole booth, and making an absolute mess of the area. charlie would be making spitballs, aiming at cameron and knox every time (earning a “charlie, knock it off, i told you three times already! so mature of you, really.” from cameron) and meeks/pitts would try to see how many straws they could connect to make “ultra straw.” todd would come hang out at the counter when neil was closing, admiring his pretty bf as he worked (’: neil would always make todd a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and rainbow jimmies on the house, claiming, “we have to empty out the ice cream machine anyway” (but really he’d take the cost out of his paycheck, just wanting to make todd happy). his boss would hire him back every summer, loving how much business neil drove in (even if the poets made a mess every time they hung out and ate) and absolutely adoring how much effort neil put into what anyone else would seemingly call a “meaningless” job.

todd: you can’t tell me that todd wouldn’t look forward to working. especially during the summers, it would get him out of the house and away from his parents judging his every move. being the shy introvert he is, he’d likely do things like mowing lawns or gardening for people around his neighborhood. minimal interactions, but still decent pay (as all the people in his neighborhood were likely super rich and could afford to pay him well). the poets’ parents would hire him, after much convincing from their sons (”todd’s just trying to make some money, dad. please?”) and todd would appreciate this more than they ever knew. he’d become super familiar with flower types and he’d become a lot more nurturing after taking care of plants and grass for multiple summers. he’d keep a little journal or notebook with drawings or sketches of the flowers he’d taken care of, complete with descriptions and magazine/newspaper clippings from his mom’s better homes and garden subscription (a lot of his poetry would become nature-related as well). it would be his late night project, or something he’d do if he couldn't sleep (which was pretty common for todd). he’d call neil on the phone some nights and just gush about all kinds of flowers or tell neil how he accidentally got stung by a bee and cried about it because he knew the bee would die (all the while, neil would be listening so intently, taking note about which flowers were todd’s favorites for future use (’: the calls would have to be pretty planned, bc if neil wasn’t working, he was doing school work, or his parents were keeping an annoyingly close watch on him. but sometimes neil would call him impromptu and that made todd just the happiest little camper ever). todd’s nails would be really short (he’d cut them really often because he doesn’t like the feeling of dirt under his nails), which means he couldn’t bite his nails anymore, causing him to pick up a new anxious habit of biting the inside of his bottom lip ): overall, though, todd would like his job, and even find pleasure in being surrounded by little flowers all day. also if/when neil ever got the chance, he’d absolutely tag along to see his sweaty boyfriend in action (come on, neil would go absolutely nuts for todd in a cutoff shirt, 5″ inseam shorts, and converse mowing a lawn looking all manly and tough). 

charlie: obviously, charlie wouldn’t need to work because of his financial situation, but his mom would 110% make him get a job just so he wouldn’t be around the house causing trouble/bothering his siblings for fun (”i’m hosting a lot of book club meetings for the country club this summer, i can’t have you putting spiders in the ladies’ hats again, charles”). similar to neil, mr. charlie dalton would work his summers at an ice cream/custard stand. he’d have to wear a white, short sleeve button up, a red and white striped apron, and one of those white, rectangular hats (his least favorite part HAHA, stating, “my hair is one of my best features and this just takes it all away. it’s unfair.”). the poets would visit often, both for ice cream, but primarily to give him a hard time about his uniform (”i’ll give you twenty bucks to wear this on our first day of classes” meeks would tease, completely gobsmacked when charlie showed up to their first chemistry class in his uniform, earning lots of demerits, but also twenty dollars). charlie would hate it at first, but obviously he’d adjust, being the extroverted/personable person, not taking himself too seriously and being one of the best ice cream slingers anyone had ever seen. he’d give the cute girls (and boys) extra scoops of ice cream for free, winking as he handed them their orders. like neil’s boss, charlie’s boss was even more thankful for charlie’s presence because they’d likely be raking in at least triple the income they would in a summer without him. he’d become a sundae expert, spending many dead poets meeting making them for his friends while they read poems and stories. that being said, he’d come to hate eating ice cream, publishing an article in welton’s honor demanding that they remove ice cream from their dessert menu (yes, almost exactly like the “girls at welton” prank, but he’d make the call collect this time. mr. nolan would be fed up to the point where he wouldn’t even punish charlie physically, just suspend him from rowing [which charlie wouldn’t mind at all HAHA]).

meeks & pitts: after their hi-fi success and the fact that they are seemingly inseparable, they both sought out jobs at the local radio station where they were hired as interns/assistants, running errands and picking up coffee or lunch for the station. but sometimes, when they worked pretty late, the night shift dj would let them pick the records and show them how everything worked (: after nights like that, meeks and pitts would go to one of their houses and add modifications to their hi-fi radio, staying up all night modifying and researching (by the end of the summer, they had made another hi-fi (portable) and their og hi-fi would have been morphed into a huge nationally reaching radio that they keep in the cave (since it would be disallowed in their room at welton). another job that the two of them would have would be answering calls for the station about song requests. with this knowledge, charlie and the other poets would hang out at someone’s house, calling and requesting the same songs over and over and over again. their biggest task for the summer would be organizing the shelves with all the records into alphabetical order (”duh, we should go by first name, meeks. which other way would it be” pitts would argue, only to find out that after they had spent about three weeks alphabetizing by first name, they were supposed to go by last name. “now who’s the idiot?” meeks would jeer, beginning to pull the records off the shelves). they’d also learn a lot about music from their night shift coworker, which would help in their quest to woo some ladies the following school year.

cameron: cameron liked spending his summers doing research projects for fun and just reading a whole lot, so you can imagine his displeasure at when his parents asked him to get a job (presumably to help with paying for his schooling). while upset about it, he wouldn’t complain, and took it on the chin, understanding the reasoning. he’d apply to a couple places, but ultimately end up as a grocery store cashier/stock boy. much like charlie, he’d have the same kind of uniform, but with a green apron instead. he’d spend most of his shift ringing people up at the register, being friendly and personable (something no one ever really realized about him !!). the poets’ moms would always see him and choose his register on purpose, using it as a chance to catch up or tell him to tell his parents that “the overstreets say hello!” or “mrs. anderson says hi!” pitts, meeks, and charlie would utilize cameron’s position at the supermarket to buy nudie magazines unembarrassed/slightly illegally HAHA (”come on, cameron! it’s not like you won’t be included in seeing them next year, too. we bring them to the meetings, you know that!” charlie would say, leaving cameron at a loss, reluctantly scanning the magazines and bagging them as pitts and meeks sniggered). charlie would wave, blow him a kiss, and wink as they left, “love you, richardddd.” sure enough, the magazines would make an appearance during the following school year and cameron was glad he had decided to let them buy the magazines lol. 

knox: out of all the poets, i feel like our knoxious would be the least inclined to work (yes, even less inclined than charlie). his parents wouldn’t even make him get a job because he simply didn’t need to, but to everyone’s surprise, he would volunteer at the animal shelter. the poets would later find out that it was a great way to meet girls (which is why he did it lmfao so they endlessly goaded him about it). charlie would visit often, and even took a rescue puppy home, much to charlie’s younger sister’s delight. charlie even wanted to start volunteering at the shelter to also meet girls, but he was too busy at the ice cream stand (plus, he had really grown to like it there so he didn’t want to leave). another effect of volunteering made knox super interested in zoology and animals, which brought out a newer, more nurturing/caring side to him, and who knows, maybe he’d go vegetarian somehow. he’d want to pursue a career in animal science or becoming a veterinarian, but mr. overstreet was hellbent on knox taking over the firm, so it seemed like a pipe dream. knox would continue to volunteer at the animal shelter, well into his career as a lawyer, and would even go to veterinary school in his 30s (when he was a nationally famous, established lawyer) to get certification to work with animals in a broader way (: 

hope you guys liked these. it was pretty fun to write, and i'd pay such good money to see neil, charlie, and cameron in their uniforms (and todd, but that’s neither here nor there). happy thursday !! let me know what you guys think of these <3(:

[logicalbookthief]

Class Disparity and Narrative Framing

Since a bunch of people liked my tags on this post, I thought I’d expand on this this topic.

I’m hoping we delve more into this once we get a proper backstory for Mr. Compress / Oji Harima, as it seems to be the basis for Harima’s actions in his era.

This was originally going to be just an analysis of how similar characters of different classes are treated by the narrative (specifically in regards to Ch 299) but want to first establish the role that class plays in the story overall.

Let’s start with the Peerless Thief (Oji Harima) and what we know of his ideology.

And his criticism isn’t unfounded. Heroes make a lot of money.  And that’s in addition to the benefits they receive, such as medical care, education, internships. All free of charge. Once you become a hero, you’re pretty much set financially. That’s the main reason Ochako enrolls in UA, because she wants to help her struggling, working-class family.

But why did Harima find this system so unfair? If everyone has an equal opportunity to become a hero, where’s the harm in it being so profitable?

Except. Not everyone can become a hero. That is a fact Izuku had to contend with his entire childhood. For one thing, they need to have a quirk. So this eliminates the quirkless portion of the population automatically.

You need to also have a quirk that is useful in rescue & combat situations (eliminating more mundane quirks / quirks that have drawbacks that outweigh its ability) and a quirk that is marketable to the public (eliminating any quirks that are off-putting or unpalatable to people, such as Toga drinking blood or mutation quirks that aren’t “cute” or “aesthetically pleasing” enough to tolerate).

Essentially, you need to win the genetic lottery to get a quirk that qualifies you for heroism, an opportunity that offers a large degree of wealth and influence. And that’s where we get into the issue of class.

Class is defined as a group of people who share a socioeconomic status; and in BNHA, this is determined not only by birth, but also can be tied to quirks. The socio part is non-explanatory, as Izuku begins the manga showing how not having a quirk caused him to be treated differently by his peers.

The economic aspect of this is more subtle, but it’s started to come into focus with characters like Twice, Hawks and Compress.

Probably the reason Harima called for reform is this: Children inherit their quirks from their parents. Just as they inherit their socioeconomic status. Someone with a quirk that enables them to become a hero will not only pass on this wealth to their child, but also will likely pass on a quirk that would allow the child to pursue a hero career. This is why you see legacy heroes like Tenya, Shouto, etc.

This ensures that wealth remains in the family, generation after generation. Likewise, it can ensure that another family remains in poverty without any chance for mobility. In a sense, it’s the rich get richer while the poor get poorer.

Obviously, you have examples of mobility — Hawks and Ochako are the first that come to mind — but they had/have this opportunity because of their quirks.

Yes, you can still be a hero without the permission of the Hero Commission. Without a license, though, you will a) not be paid and b) be labeled a vigilante, which is the same as a criminal.

As an side-note, because I’m a nerd for words and history— in English, the origin for villain comes from the Medieval Latin villanus, or villa, a dwelling where poor farmers in the village would live. Yeah, that’s right: Villain used to just refer to a person of lower class. If you look at the etymology, many words with these connotations began as words associated with the poor. And in the hands of the aristocracy, they were effectively used to criminalize the poor.

And with that, we’ve circled back to the analysis of characters I promised at the beginning: Thief Takami and Enji Todoroki. Many have pointed out their similarity since Ch 299 was released. Rightfully so!

Both abused their children.

Both isolated their children.

Both of their wives (idk if it’s confirmed Tomie was married to Takami but that’s essentially how they lived) viewed their children through the lens of their fathers due to the unhealthy relationships they had with their husbands.

Both of the mothers were driven to a point where they couldn’t take care of their children, due to either the father’s presence/absence in the family.

What strikes me most in this comparison is how you can’t separate these characters from the issue of class. It permeates every panel and informs our understanding of their situations.

Takami is a piece of shit who blames his child for existing, something this poor kid had no control over. He views Keigo as a burden to him and his freedom and resents him for it. 

The glimpses we get of the house show they live in squalor. A child is an extra mouth to feed, an extra person to provide for. You can’t examine the abuse without acknowledging the role of their nonexistent finances: Thief Takami was literally a criminal so he could get money.

Meanwhile, you have Endeavor, who is also a piece of shit, wrapped in a shinier package. He bought his wife with the intention of making children -- as many as needed -- so he could create the perfect combination quirk. Money was no object. 

Expenses for Rei’s decade-long hospital stay, the nanny/housekeeper to care for the neglected kids, the fact he can so casually decide to build a new house for his family... It is never addressed by anyone in the story, because it doesn’t need to be. Money is no object.

I’m curious as to what class Rei’s family was (and I’m not exactly hopeful we’ll get this info, based on she’s been treated so far) that they agreed to this arrangement. If they were poor, the idea that their daughter would be taken care of financially might’ve enticed them. Hell, the idea that her family would be taken care of financially might’ve enticed Rei. 

Through this analysis, I’ve also realized just how paranoid / concerned the Takamis act in comparison. Thief Takami isolates his whole family out of fear they will sell him out. Tomie is afraid she will be criminalized by mere association and chooses a life on the streets over the risk of going to the police.

Contrast this to how Shouto has revealed his father’s abuse to classmates he barely knew. How Fuyumi mentions in front of his friends who are interning under Endeavor that Natsuo blames their father for Touya’s death; later, Enji admits he is responsible. Remember when Endeavor flat-out told All Might, who was the most influential hero in the country at the time, that he created his son for the sole purpose of surpassing the Number One??

Yet the narrative gives this none of the weight it deserves. Because there are no stakes for Endeavor and everybody knows he will face no consequences for his crimes. The difference is that Takami & Tomie were well-aware that they would be punished if they were caught; while Endeavor & the Torodorkis are well-aware that he would not.

Suffice to say, it is telling that while the narrative has no qualms with condemning Thief Takami for his crimes and abuse of his family -- as it should -- it gives Endeavor the benefit of the doubt and chance after chance to prove he is “worthy” of redemption, even though his victims have never once denied his guilt and they certainly hold him accountable. And the only difference is that one man is from poverty while the other is from privilege.

Anyway, I could say more on this subject -- I would like to touch on how Ochako fits into the class discussion but this got longer than anticipated, so I may have to make a separate post for her -- but I’ll leave it at that for now.

[dreamkidddream]

Hello sunshine, would it be possible for you to write me some headcanons for my beloved Chuuya, Dazai and Atsushi? I was thinking about them having a fragil health s/o? Maybe they work an office job in the ada/pm and they somehow fall for the s/o? I hope this is no trouble and you have inspiration to write this. If you don't like this you can just ignore it. Thank you very much :)

Hi anon! Thank you for the request! So I’m assuming that when you say fragile health s/o is that the reader can get sick easily/overall very weak? I hope that I got the interpretation right, and I didn’t please feel free to send it in again so I can do it over for you. Reader is gender neutral, and hope you enjoy!

TW: Suicide (Dazai’s part, nothing heavy is mentioned, and it’s only in one line) and Abuse (Atsushi’s, nothing heavy is mentioned)

Easily Sick/Weak S/O with: Chuuya, Dazai, and Atsushi

Chuuya

Oh man, he hated this feeling. He already hated you even working in the Port Mafia (even though he was there too), but he hated it even more since you were weak physically

Don’t get him wrong, Chuuya knows that you’re a strong person through and through, but it was so easy for you to get hurt or sick working on the field, it honestly made him worried

What also made him worried was how he was falling for you and quickly. He’s an executive! He doesn’t have the time for romance, and what if (really when if because he wants you so bad you have no idea) someone decides to come after you because of your ties with him? It was already so easy for him to lose you now, he didn’t want to chance things and speed up the process

But, you were just...a really great person. You were determined, always kept your head up, didn’t take anything from anyone (you backtalked Mori once and still walked away with your throat intact, so that was a sign), and it didn’t help that you were really easy on the eyes (he couldn’t help it, you were already attractive, and those things were just icing on the cake for him)

Chuuya didn’t know how you could stand being in a stuffy office all day, so he always stopped by to check on some “information” for some “case he’s working on). It started out genuine, but then it became a daily occurrence, even on his rare days off. 

One thing about him is that he’s a true gentleman, he knows how to treat his partner right. Bringing lunch to you, flowers sitting on your desk for no reason with a random note (”Hope you have a good day”, “Saw these when I was out, made me think about you”, “These don’t even compare to how beautiful you are, inside and out”, etc.), driving you home no questions asked, even offering you his favorite bottle of wine to share

He knows that he’s being cheesy but he was pulling out all the stops just for you

He knew it was risky for you to be out all the time, so whenever he did finally ask you on an “official” date (you thought sharing his wine was a date but he said that he wanted to show you off, not just in the office), you guys were either in a fully reserved restaurant or at his place. Seriously the way his place looks was like luxury! Damn you knew his job paid good money but wow! This was better than going out honestly

He confessed when you went over to his house one night. It was a particularly rough day for you both, and you just needed some reassurance which Chuuya was happy to give. It seemed like he went on for hours, but really it wasn’t too long, and you were in tears by the end of it. When he ended it with, “anyone would be beyond lucky to have you (Y/N), and I wish it were me. I wish I would have the chance to show you how much I really do love you, words aren’t enough for me. I’ll take the chance if you let me, and I swear you won’t regret it. Be mine, (Y/N), I’ll treat you like you deserve, and you deserve more than the world.”

You both understood the risks that came with dating you, but he swore that he would protect you with his life. If you did get sick, he couldn’t be there for you during the day because of his work, but he made sure to text you every hour on the hour to check on you and as soon as he got home, it was caretaker mode until you both went to bed

He bought you your medicine, the fluffiest pillows ever known to man, I mean did everything and anything. The dude was loaded, money was not an issue obviously

Chuuya is a great boyfriend, and will honestly do anything it takes to keep you safe and happy. He loves you after all, and he doesn’t mind all the extra work that comes with it (he doesn’t even see it as work, just precautions, which still isn’t a problem)

Dazai

He was not only worried about your health and safety, but also the fact that he was falling for you. Dazai was a very secretive person who didn’t like to show his true feelings, and he was scared of what he’s feeling for you. Him being attached and actually caring about people never paid off for him, as his past would tell you...

But here you were, being a bright, shining light in his cruel, bleak, dark world. He tried to keep his distance at first, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. You were so fun to be around, despite your condition! You always helped as much as you could in the office, being the first one to pick up on his work when he was too lazy busy to complete it and having reports ready for any meetings, even on short notice. You looked out for him, both as a coworker and as a caring friend, and he could tell

You even helped him annoy Kunikida sometimes, which just made you even more stunning in his eyes

He felt himself falling for you more and more everyday, finding excuses to stay in the office just to be next to you. “(Y/N), please don’t strain yourself my dear! Let me handle this for you, I would be a terrible suitor if I didn’t.” “Dazai, I just have to staple these- nevermind, thank you my knight wrapped in bandages!” 

Kunikida would of course hate this and drag him out every time, but all that it concluded in was Dazai whining and complaining about how it was so unfair that he was being kept from his “precious (Y/N)” and how they must be so lonely without him. It got to a point where Kunikida made a compromise with him: if he actually does some work and help on the field missions, then he can spend more time with you in the office

I feel like they forget that Dazai is actually crazy smart and most likely already knows the culprits to whatever cases that they are handling, and he was definitely waiting for this outcome. No extra work for him and more time with you. It’s a win-win!

When he does eventually accept that he was in too deep, he started to take his advances in a more serious manner (I mean he was always being serious but he was not going to hold back anymore). He’s a great listener, so anything that said wanted that was said in passing conversation, expect it to be on your desk with a little sticky note. You had a strong craving for something? What do you know, Dazai brought just enough for both of you to share (and he gave you the bigger portion of it). You want to go see the stars? Sounds like the perfect date night for you two!

That’s how he actually confessed to you, right underneath the stars. It was perfect, you guys were away from everyone, having an amazing time just stargazing. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this at peace, and you were to thank for that. He knew that while he was risking his life on a daily basis, but you were constantly fighting for yours. You couldn’t even go on a mission with how easy it was for you to get an injury you couldn’t recover from. But he had faith in you and in himself, that he wouldn’t let another person that he cares for perish in front of him. He made that promise to you, and that he would do everything in his power to keep it. He will not fail you

After that night, your dates were usually held at your place, and it ranged from cooking together to having movie nights. You didn’t have to spend money really, you were both fine in the house in each other’s arms. And if you did get sick, you thought he was clingy before, WHEW did it get more intense

You had to push him off of you too many times to count. What part of NO HUGS did this man not get?! You were already suffering, he didn’t need to either. He did try to make this a double suicide opportunity though, and you were not very happy

Was banned from cuddles for 3 weeks straight, it was pure torture for him

You were Dazai’s distraction from this horrible joke he called a life, and he was welcoming of you. He embraced you, never complained about your weakness or anything. You were someone that he can proudly say that he loves, and that won’t ever change

Atsushi

He was so nervous, so scared. He doesn’t even know how to look everyone in the eye, how was he suppose to admit that he started to like you more than a friend?!

Atsushi was in love with you, I mean he was in deep. He couldn’t help it! You’re just so nice, so easy to talk to, always there to give him a pep talk and just keep him in high spirits. It just wasn’t fair what hand life had dealt you. He wanted to spend time with you outside of the office, but due to your delicate situation, he was so scared to. What if the Port Mafia tried to strike and he wasn’t strong enough or quick enough to protect you? He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you died because of him. He wouldn’t be able to live-

So he tried (keyword: tried) to spend time with you at work. But with Kunikida on his ass about work, and Dazai being Dazai making his life difficult for his own amusement, made it difficult. Every time he got a chance, before he could even speak a word, someone needed him for something. If he did somehow had the spare time to talk to you, he would either choke or say something that he really meant but chickened out last minute and tried to change it (which was kinda your fault, you like to tease him sometimes too)

“So, um, (Y/N). I remembered that you said you liked that one takeout spot, so if you want I can bring you some back?”

“You would do that for me, Atsushi? Wow, it’s almost like you’re like my boyfriend!”

“Yep, I don’t mind! It makes me happy when you’re hap-w-WAIT HU-“

But besides that, he always checked on your whenever he got back from his missions (even if he was the one injured and bleeding), brought you back small trinkets or food, and always walked you home, not caring if it was out of his way

He hated that you were confined to the office majority of your time working, but he was worried that literally anything could and would happen on his watch, and he didn’t want to risk it. With Kyoka tired of watching him in distress and even Dazai showing a sliver of compassion for him, they helped him set up an inside date

But first, he had to ask you. Dazai wanted him to do some elaborate, over the top, proposal for asking you out (which Atsushi was pretty sure that he just wanted him to panic and embarrass himself) and Kyoka suggested that he gets you tofu (which he was also convinced that she just wanted some again). He decided that he was just going to have to suck it up, and do it himself. He has been through Hell and back, and if he survived that, then he could ask you on a date damn it!

So he finally got some courage, and directly went up to your desk. When you looked up, you flinched back. What was with the intense look in his eyes?! But you realized soon enough when he bowed and asked you to come over for a date. And of course you said yes!

The date was marvelous, and the poor boy was sweating so much you thought he was going to pass out! Whatever Dazai and Kyoka did to the place blew his expectations out of the water. Latern lights strung up along the walls, your favorite meals readied, little messages stuck to the wall made just for you, and the biggest/most comfortable blanket fort that you had ever seen. It sounded so simple, but one look into your eyes and you were overjoyed. He really did mean it that it made him happy that you were happy

He confessed with you snuggled into his side, so anxious yet at ease. Despite everything that he has gone through, you were brave too. You were stuck in that stressful environment, had a body that could quit on you after one bad day, yet you still encouraged him every day, every time you spoke to him after he’s had a bad day, or an encounter with Akutagawa. He was so convinced that he didn’t you, that he didn’t deserve anything good in his life after the abuse he endured at the orphanage. But you didn’t let him believe that for a second, and he’s indebted to you for that

He poured his heart out to you that night, and ever since, he’s been a lot more confident, both in his ability and in himself. You gave him that push in the right direction to trust himself more, and everyone could see the change (Dazai was pretty proud to be honest)

Dates after that were spent at his apartment, relaxing. Once in a blue moon, you guys would go to the arcade where he won you guys matching Tiger phone charms (he was a little embarrassed but he loved you and the charms too much to let it affect him)

If you did become ill, he would panic so bad that you had to bring him back down to Earth while hacking up a lung (not literally but it felt like it). He tries his best, he’s a little shaken because of how distraught he would get due to your fragile body, but he does care for you pretty well. If you need anything, he was too scared to leave you so Kyoka would be his go-to (with the promise of tofu afterwards)

(But don’t worry she’s a little worried for you too)

Atsushi knew he could never forget the horrors that he experienced at the orphanage, but you reminded him of the strength he had to not let it hold him back. He was your hero without a doubt, but you were his in the sense of how strong you really are, and how you didn’t know or believe it when he told you. You became an overall positive influence on his life, and helped him see life a little brighter and more meaningful. He loves you more than you could imagine, and he would continue to prove it to you in everything that he does.

[wizkiddx]

...surprise part 3

{part1} {part 2}

I got there in the end!!!! sorry I felt like this dragged quite a lot but just quite happy to get it done ahah. Any feedback / advice would be greatly appreciated :)

TW: this is pretty heavy angst, miscarriages / thoughts of self harm / death pls don't read if this could strike a cord x 

Summary: Y/n has absolutely not a clue how to tell Tom and that only strains the both incredibly. 

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The drive home was deathly silent. Tom’s Audi seamlessly drove down the near-empty roads on a sleepy Sunday evening. The whole time Y/n sat with one leg curled up by her chest as she absently stared out of the passenger window. Honestly, though, she was not taking anything of the view in, all processing power in her brain was in overdrive. Souly focused on how the fuck she was going to tell Tom what she had done. She knew Tom kept glancing over at her, with the panicked hint to his eyes- no matter how comforting he was trying to appear. His grip on the steering wheel was every tightening, he felt as though right now that was the only control he had. Still with no idea what was going on - but this time his mum knew too. And his mum when she came to get him from the living was not calm either.

Something he always admired about his mum was how cool she was in a crisis. Even if Paddy likened her to the ’rage monster’ at times when she was pissed because he’d left the freezer door open, or something equally as stupid, when it came down to it, when there was a really serious issue… she was composed. Calm and collected. So when she came in and called Tom, taking him away from his brothers, he could tell something was wrong by the look in her eye. She was upset, that was clear to him, but there was something more. It wasn’t straight up panic (not like if Y/n had passed out or something) but it was… it was a quiet urgency.

It meant it was bad.

Without the need to ever consider it, Tom knew this wasn’t anything to do with Y/n being unfaithful. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. And that meant, something must've happened personally to Y/n - which maybe scared him even more. If it was a betrayal of him, that would principally hurt Tom himself - which would kill him, but he would deal with it. It was the fear of the unknown and the complete powerlessness in this situation that had Tom wishing the drive away so he’d finally understand.

The drive felt painstakingly long for Tom… yet far too short for Y/n to come up with a plan.

When the pair finally pulled into the driveway, they both didn’t even exchange glances before heading out the car and slamming the doors shut. The crunch of their shoes on the gravel path to the front door was deafeningly loud as Tom fished the keys out of his pocket - this time with a sense of dread that contrasted so strongly the excitement he’d felt less than 24 hours ago doing the exact same thing.

Tom held the door open for her, as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve; eyes still glued to the floor. He flicked on the light to illuminate the hall as she slipped off her shoes. He mirrored her action and then for the first time since his parents' house looked her in the eye. Just that action had him near spilling his guts about how worried he was about her, before Y/n beat him to it.

“I’m…I’m gonna take a shower.”

And it had him floored. How could she just ignore the bloody massive and luminous elephant in the room? He couldn’t even respond, his brain was so confused as to what the fuck was going on. So she just nodded smally and headed straight upstairs. Leaving him in a stupor by the doorway.

Meanwhile, Y/n was just about holding it together until she got behind the locked door of their ensuite. Then it broke. She broke.

She pulled the clothes that drowned her off frantically, scratching and grabbing until the garments ripped off her body and were thrown across the room in haste. In the mirror, the reflection of the person that stood there somewhat had her transfixed. Tilting her head to the side, Y/n took careful steps up toward it - her eyes transfixed on her exposed abdomen. She was hollow. So very empty and it had her hypnotised. How barely weeks ago she was growing a real human inside there - creating something that should’ve gone onto laugh and smile and grow and learn. And love.

Now she was empty.

The poor thing though had been so deprived by their own mother; so unwanted and hated. They had been starved of all love by the person who was supposed to love them the most. The person who was supposed to be half their world for the first few years at least.

It was her fault.

Y/n hated herself, heck she wanted to punish herself for what she’d done. And yet, there was something so pure about her stomach, about where that angel had been. She wanted to punch herself, to kick and hurt, to make her feel pain. Except for this little life force, or the remnants of them - had her respecting it. Instead, she gently rubbed her stomach, which was flat rather than full like it should’ve been, and yet it felt like a relief. At a snail's pace, she trailed the tips of her finger across her belly just drawing (what she thought were) random patterns - however to anyone else they would have noticed the silhouette of a small human.

She took her time int the shower, having the water close to blisteringly hot but not quite there - using it as an attempt to purge her body of the thoughts, of the guilt. Eventually, though she couldn’t drag out the bathroom routine any longer, she had to go and face him. In reality, Y/n was well aware of how unfair this was on Tom - he had been terrified on the way back here, she knew that. But the thought of admitting to him this truly abhorrent thing she’d done, selfishly she didn’t want to tell him tonight. Just one more night sharing a bed with him, one morning of seeing his puffy eyes and bed hair, one last time hearing his gruff morning voice. Before he found out the real her and before he left.

Thankfully, when she finally drew the courage to unlock the door and leave her sanctuary, their bedroom was empty and she took that opportunity. As fast as she possibly could, Y/n changed into an old nightshirt before huddling under the covers. Tom had been so careful with her feelings today, he might just leave her be. Delay the conversation till tomorrow. It was the dream.

And dreams don’t come true.

Tom walked in, she could hear the soft pad of his feet on the cream carpet as she tried to act fast asleep - regulating her breathing and relaxing every muscle she could. When in fact that the whole process was the opposite of relaxing, she was on such high alert, waiting for a sign of him leaving her alone for the evening. Quite expectedly though, it didn’t quite go down that way. She heard him sigh, felt him sit on his side of the bed as her body rippled with the dip on the bed, felt his eyes piercing her.

“Y/n…” the tone of his voice had her wincing internally, he was hurting. “Y/n please… just talk to me?” She was too scared to move. “ I know your awake Y/n we both know who’s the actor here” Y/n knew Tom was trying to lighten the mood, trying to make her feel a bit more comfortable but then he switched back to an underlying hint of desperation. “Please talk to me.” She didn’t have a choice, he wasn't going to let up - Y/n could tell. So she rolled over and opened her eyes facing him.

“I’m tired, Tom. Can we do this tomorrow?” His face completely morphed and she knew she fucked up. He wasn’t upset or worried or scared any more.

“I’m sorry but that is not fair.”

“Please just-“

“NO. ah” He sighed, as if disciplining himself for the instinctive angry tone. “Look- I-I’ve been going at your pace. I’ve been treading on eggshells all day. I didn’t want to push you but I’m bloody terrified! I mean you told my mum! And she’s worried so that means I’m even more stressed and-…. Just please Y/n. You know I’d never judge you I’m just worried because I care.”

And just like that, she didn’t have a choice. She was really hurting the man she loved.

As a result, Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, still hugging the duvet around her in a protective blanket as she looked into his glassy eyes. It tore her heart out.

“I’m really sorry” she pursed her lips blowing out an exhale, trying to collect all her thoughts, feelings and emotions together. “I’ve been trying to all day but-.. it’s just I’m finding this really hard to express in words.”

“I don’t mind if it takes all night, just I-I want to understand.” He was just too kind and she didn’t deserve it. So picking at the duvet while pulling her legs closer in protection she nodded.

“Okay, so-so I just take you through it chronologically? And-and then I can go to Y/f/n’s place so.”

“Why would you got to hers?” He asked, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in confusion. He knew you hadn’t been unfaithful - his mum most definitely wouldn’t have reacted in the way she did had Y/n betrayed Tom.

“Just… just listen first.” She didn’t want to answer that question, to speak it into existence. Him kicking her out, in a rage of fury and anger at how evil she could be. She thought he’d just reply and accept it, not feel the need to calm her.

“I could never ever hate you Y/n please, it’s a bit insulting to me that you think I would.”

His words had her a little shocked - she had definitely not expected that reaction. His offence.

“Umm okay just… just don’t promise till you hear.” He gave her a stern look, not enough to make her back down or change her mind from what she thought was inevitable. “So. So it was when you were away. You’d just gone to Atlanta I think and-and I woke up one morning and was sick and it was weird I don’t know… um so I took the day off but I was okay until the next morning and-and I was sick again. It was weird so I took the next day off because you know Elliot I work with? He’s-he's got some broken immune system or something so we really can’t go in if we are ill. But I was fine until the next morning again and-and then it kind of hit me. I hadn’t had a period in ages and-and yeah.”

“Your pregnant?” Tom asked, trying to wrap his head around the current situation and what she was saying.

“Was…” Her voice wavered and she paused a second “ I-I was. I was shocked you know? We…we weren’t ready.” Y/n shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself closer to the headboard. “You said you didn’t want kids now and I mean … we- we are barely adults ourself right? It-it was so stupid but I couldn’t tell you could I?… Phone you up and say by the way I’m pregnant with a kid you don’t want!...” She dared to look at him, only for a second, seeing the way he just stared at her as though transfixed. She couldn’t keep looking at him.

“So I was waiting till you would get back … er next week, well when you were supposed to be back anyway.” She scoffed lightly at that, how the whole entire situation had been completely flipped on its head. “I would have had the scan then. And-and I went and it so stupid because they were a blob but-shit. They were so beautiful.” She hadn’t even noticed, suddenly absorbed in what she was saying but Tom leant over to grab one of her hands because it was trembling so vigorously. It wasn’t that he wanted to comfort her, he needed to. Because really? When it mattered, he hadn’t and that was already eating away at him.

“And I stupidly…. So fucking stupidly… I thought what if? I got excited and in my head… I don’t fucking know I just thought that I-it, it might work. I really - really thought it could work.” She couldn’t feel it but Tom wormed his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her into his side. “But by that point, I’d already filled them with so much hate. I wanted them out for so long and…and then I just- well I got what I thought I wanted.”

For the first time since she started her speech, Y/n wasn’t absorbed in retelling the story. Noticing her position with Toms arms protectively wrapped around her, she dared to look up into his eyes. And they weren’t right. It was wrong. Because here he was still looking at her with these incredibly soft warm brown eyes, his thumb rubbing up and down on the back of her shoulder blade.

“Love, I’m so so sorry.”

She was bemused. What the hell was he doing? Was this just a double bluff, acting all soft before he was about to rip her heart out - even if it was what she deserved, that was exceptionally cruel?

“No Tom your not listening. I-I couldn’t keep your baby alive! I-I wished them away… I wanted them gone!” Now she was plainly hysterical, shouting and yelling at Tom as her hands shook.

It broke Tom’s heart. He knew this was his fault - at least a little. Clearly, she should never have been in a position to have to deal with this herself, that was obvious. And it made him guilty… but what hit harder? She had very clearly implied she was worried about his reaction, he should never have let her worry. Because Tom knew he loved Y/n unconditionally, at this point that should be a given - for all he cared there was nothing, within the limits of reason, she could do that would make him seriously reconsider his opinion of her. Even then, if his opinion were ever forced to change so dramatically... he still knew he wouldn’t be able to stop loving her. Loving isn't an option, it is not a choice. You helplessly surrender yourself to it. And yet she was apparently less sure of this fact.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this by yourself.” And he meant it. He truly meant it. However, Y/n was not having it at all - in her state, in her frame of mind, this was him just torturing her; acting it out only to break her heart. His words and her position wrapped protectively in his arms dawned on her. It had her leaping up from the bed, tears streaming down her face as she gestured wildly.

“Tom that’s not fair! Don’t you get it? I KILLED YOUR BABY! They were alive and then I wasn’t enough for them! IT’S MY FAULT!” To put it simply, she looked insane. Screaming, with tears streaming down her face, arms flailing about as she yelled at Tom, who was still sitting on the bed.

He’d never seen her like this- with so much anger. What was even more disturbing was the fact that it was targeted so inwardly at herself.

“This isn’t your-“

“BE ANGRY TOM. For fuck sake… I-“ She choked out a sob “I murdered your kid! RAGE AT ME SHOUT AT ME it’s-it’s what I deserve.” It was insane but the look in her eye was one that seemed to Tom as though she needed him to hate her. As if in some fucked up narrative that was how the story should end.

He was not having one bit of it, tearing his eyes away from her maniacally shaking frail frame and instead to the corner of the ceiling. There was no precedent, no guidebook on how to deal with this, no past experiences to rely on. Unlike if Y/n had had a shit day, Tom knew then to subtly keep her within reach, to silently be there so she could literally and figuratively lean on him when she was ready; unlike when she was angry at ignorant politicians, he knew not to argue but prompt her to explain more, give a more reasoned argument so anger became thought through intellect; unlike when her grandma had died, when she just needed his contact, she needed his thumb rubbing against her hip, needed to sleep listening to the rhythmical thumping of his heart. None of these were applicable - his touch seemed to make her worse; his words seemed to anger her more; his mere presence didn’t seem to be doing an awful lot of good.

And yet, he couldn’t leave her even if it seemed to be the most logical option. Because she was wild, not herself and not logical and he, for the first time, was terrified of the danger she could be to herself.

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed, waiting for him to react. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down - readying his voice to scream at her. She saw his brown eyes collect a sheen of tears of rage - ready to bore holes into her skull as he degraded her to what she was worth. Which was very little. Then, as if in slow motion, his sharp jawline tilted back level and his eyes met her. He was frozen as if a statue, ready to rage at her.

“I love you both. So much and equally.”

Tom was pretty sure he could imagine Y/n’s runaway train in her head slam on the breaks. Her eyebrow twitched a little, as she stood completely still trying to analyse his words. Because to her, it didn’t make sense. So he took this moment of (at least surface level) calm to smoothly and slowly stand up, actions much like mirroring how someone approaches a spooked cat on the streets. Movements slow and preplanned, trying not to set off the fight or flight response on the women in front of him.

“That little baby you made… I didn’t know he ever existed till minutes ago but…but I know for a fact I love them.” He was trying to both figure out and decode his own emotions while explaining them in a way Y/n would accept and understand.

“I love them because… they are made by the love of my life. And that’s incredible and indescribable and just… just part of you, an extension of everything you and me together are… They would never have been perfect right?” Tom softly asked, though realistically knowing he wouldn’t get a response from a still motionless Y/n - besides a single tear, which appeared to have a mind of its own, escaping over her bottom lash lid. Tom watched it roll down her cheek as he composed his next words. “No they wouldn’t, no ones perfect… neither me nor you. But they would’ve been safe and have been loved. They were loved, you-you loved them right, even if you didn’t think you did or when you were terrified?” This time Y/n nodded minutely and Tom mirrored this, taking a small step a little closer to her. “And I did love them while they were in your stomach because they were part of you and I always always love you…. So they were so full of love okay? There's no rhyme or reason to why what happened happened but it’s… it’s definitely not because they were starved of love okay?” Y/n still didn’t have appeared to have released a single breath since Tom stood up, so he made a calculated and risked assessed movement to reach his hand out to touch her upper arm. In reaction, she sucked in a sharp shaky breath and then expelled it just as quickly - just like Tom knew she would. He physically felt a pull in his chest seeing the torment in her glassy eyes, now barely a rulers length from her.

“This, it’s an awful… awful situation. It’s sad and heartbreaking but I really need you to know that it changes nothing about how I feel about you. I need you to really understand how much I love-and always will-love you, and how I love them too.” Another tear escaped the same eye and Tom reached up with his other hand so his thumb could brush it away before the glassy orb met her pronounced jawline. To be honest he was quite grateful for the moment as he felt his voice getting a bit sticky in the back of his throat. She still wasn’t ready to speak yet and he was okay with that.

“We’ll never forget them and we will always love them, but I want to do that with you, as we get older together. They tie us closer and I refuse to disrespect them and force ourselves apart….a-assuming you don’t want to either?” Still cupping her cheek with his left hand Tom felt as well as saw her nod, this time more emphatically, her eyes darting between focusing on his left and then right eye - as though she was just checking they were saying the same things as his mouth.

“I’m sorry I-“ Finally feeling the connection between her brain and voice box, Y/n stated to jiltedly speak but was interrupted as Tom tentatively feathered his lips on hers. “You can be sorry for scaring the crap out of me today, you can be sorry for shouting and you can be sorry for not telling me at all… I don’t think you should, but if you’re staying sorry that’s all you can be sorry for.” He was barely speaking, more like just moving his lips against hers, yet they knew and understood each other completely Y/n got everything. So she sighed and repeated.

“I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for you not having the faith to know I’d be happy, that was my fault. I’m sorry for not being here and not noticing when you were struggling on the phone. I’m sorry I crept up on you last night. But I don’t think there’s anything else for either of us to apologise for.”

“Okay” Y/n then pressed her lips firmly and almost desperately against his, feeling his warmth wrap around her, as he literally wrapped his arm around her waist, from where it had been on her upper arm. And really she was very incredibly desperate since it was very very incredibly clear now with him pressed against her that he might’ve been all she needed this whole time. Tom went with it for a couple of moments, but then broke them both apart - it sounds odd but he sort of felt like he was taking advantage of her.

“Darling you’re grieving. We can tackle this together …. But your grieving so we need to look after you first. And, and we’ll remember them and face this. But we gotta look out for each other too and…”

“I’m ill aren’t I?” He was oh-so relieved that she could see it too.

“I’m not a doctor but I think so… think we need to get you eating properly.”Y/n nodded and Tom kissed her forehead, pulling her completely against his chest - only exacerbating and exaggerating his awareness of how boney she felt. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how she’d spent the whole of Sam’s dinner pushing the meat round on her fork - rearranging it numerous times- whilst picking at a few carrots. “We can do whatever you feel will help you this evening but you need to tell me what you want to eat.”

*

You agreed but you still felt incredibly nauseous, so managed to put off the whole snacking thing in lieu of cuddling up on the sofa with Tom. You were still incredibly confused, feeling slightly detached from reality if you were completely honest. And you knew Tom was a good actor, his career kind of speaks for himself yet, all the same, the sheer truth in his eyes, voice, heart. It had you feeling safe. He no longer felt a flight risk and although you still couldn’t understand why he was forgiving you so easily, you believed he was. In the softest voice, he kept just saying ‘your grieving’ when you tried to challenge his logic- admittedly proving difficult in your scattered and hazy mind.

So you found yourself lying almost completely on top of his right side, your head tucked underneath his chin, a fluffy blanket weighing down on your back to keep you nice and toasty. Silently Tom had trailed his fingertips tentatively, under the hem of your t-shirt, round over the top of your hip to his stomach. Initially, it had felt like the worst and most alien feeling in the world- but he told you to relax and you listened; he told you to take deep breaths and you listened; he told you he loved you and you listened.

It must’ve been incredibly boring for him, I mean the TV wasn’t on neither was the radio and you knew his phone was in a pocket you were currently lying on. He didn’t complain though, he just let you lie there. Just sort of being with him.

*

At some point Tom realised she’d drifted off, after a long time fighting exhaustion, as though she were worried about what Tom would do once she finally gave in to sleep. It wasn’t surprising though, considering her energy intake from food for today was limited to a couple of roasted carrot slices, Tom knew her falling asleep on his chest was inevitable. The time it took had also given him enough time to fully digest and process the whole day as well as for deciding what he needed to do. So once she appeared fully out of Tom dared to worm his hand between their bodies and, with a few muted grunts of effort, phish his phone out his back pocket.

‘Hi, I know this asking a lot but would you mind getting Sam to make that pasta bake Y/n likes and dropping it round? Just she’s asleep but I don’t want to leave her alone but could do with getting something in her?’

‘Sams already on it and it doesn’t take long. I’ll be at yours in about an hour, shall I just let myself in?’

Tom was so grateful for his family, and for how they’d taken Y/n in to. Although she’d never admit it, her tougher than average upbringing always had her feeling a bit isolated- she never had ‘her’ people. The people who completely accepted her for who she was and never judged her. But as soon as he’d introduced her to them, it was as if she'd always been there. He endlessly appreciated the talks Nikki and you had, the way his Dad would come over when she was home alone to help with the simple stuff like knowing what lightbulb to buy for the lamp that had blinked out.

She had a place in his family.

Quite impressively, Sam had managed to bake the dish and then Nikki had managed to drive round before barely three-quarters of an hour had passed. Y/n was still completely out, so when he heard his mum unlock the door with her spare key, he felt able to wiggle out from under her without disturbing at all. He met Nikki in the kitchen, leaning against the door frame as he watched his mother fly about the kitchen - preheating the oven on a low temp to keep it warm while pulling plates and cutlery out the drawers so it was easier for Y/n and Tom when you woke up.

“Thanks for all this” Tom announced his presence with a soft sigh as he padded further into the kitchen. Nikki instinctively threw her arms round her eldest’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

“You guys okay?” Tom replied with a rather uncertain hum, before recounting the evening to his mum in a low voice - as though Y/n could be disturbed from the other side of the house. Nikki was in two frame of minds at this point, clearly heartbroken for the pair; but also incredibly proud of her son because it appeared he’d reacted and said exactly the right things.

“And you?… it must’ve been a shock?” To be quite honest, Tom hadn't thought about his own emotions yet, he’d put himself on the back foot for the time being.

“I mean it’s just a bit surreal… I don’t know I didn’t really have anything to do with it but - I just know that it's made me so certain that one day we will... you know?” Nikki hugged her son again with a little nod.

“Well I won’t outstay my welcome but I do want you to give this to Y/n too.”’ With those words, she fished a square box out of her handbag - it was about the size of two matchboxes and Tom raised his brows in curiosity. “She’ll understand when she sees it.”

And with a brisk parting gesture, Nikki left, Tom tucking the box into his side pocket before getting the pasta ready.

////////

Waking you with a gentle rub on your upper arm, you mewled a groan and pushed your head hard into the sofa below you in an attempt to alleviate the tension that instantly rippled through your skull. With hazy eyes, you blinked heavily, slowly focusing on the pale yet soft skin of the boy crouched opposite you.

“Hey darling, nice nap?” Nodding gradually, you still tried to completely recollect and piece together everything that had happened today “… you need some grub before we head upstairs yeh?” Again you nodded in compliance because at this point, even having been asleep for the last however long, you really didn’t have the energy for any conflict or disagreement. With a little prompt and poke from Tom, you reluctantly sat up, grasping the plate he offered to you while still rubbing one of your eyes. Busying himself with running back to the kitchen and grabbing his own plate and drink, you had time to look at the food and notice what was served to you. Tom plopped himself next to you and turned his head with a small smile, meeting a bemused and slightly suspicious look from you.

“You didn’t cook this…?” Really it wasn’t a question. You knew for a fact Tom was not and would never be a good chef. No judgement though, since neither were you, meaning the pair of you heavily relied on the ingenious invention of uber eats most evenings. Tom chuckled at your perceptiveness and admitted defeat without even trying to feign it.

“Nah mum dropped it round. Though I think Sam cooked it so a joint effort.”

“-didnt have to-“ You hated feeling like a burden. You hated people worrying because you just felt bad. Not worth the attention and effort. And Tom hated you feeling like that - naturally then, he had the need to shut you down instantly.

“No, you’re right. But they did.”

The air was filled with the quiet clinks of ceramic against the silver or the cutlery as you forced mouthful after mouthful down your throat. He was trying to be subtle, and yet you could feel Tom’s concerned glance checking you were eating. Truthully, you really didn’t feel like eating at all (even if it was Sam’s gorgeous tomato and sausage pasta bake - an odd combination but it worked). However, what more crucial in that moment was not disappointing your incredibly sweet boyfriend.

After having consumed as much as you physically could - which Tom deemed suitable with a small nod- he took your plates away and came back to sit beside you. More and more silence.

“Are-are we okay?” Whispering quietly you felt Tom’s body seize up into a rigid state, his face whipping round to look at you. He chose to reply with actions first reaching up so that his hands cupped your cheeks, he turned your head and then slowly leaned into to press his lips softly against yours. Once retracted, he pressed his forehead onto yours.

“Of course. I bloody love you and we’re going to get through this together.” His eyes were almost intimidating, with the seriousness he placed in his gaze - just to make sure you knew he meant it.

What you had done to deserve this boy you’d never know. But you were so incredibly grateful for him.

It gave you the confidence to take the first move this time, pressing your lips against his, holding for a moment before arching away - a small yet real smile on your face.

“Oh… nearly forgot” He muttered, leaning forward and grabbing a black leather box that you’d failed to notice had been placed on the coffee table. For the second time this evening, you were caught off guard and bemused as to how he’d sourced this item within the time frame. “It’s from mum… she wouldn’t tell me what it is but said you’d understand.”

His words had you biting your lip, in a weird way eager to see, purely because you knew Nikki understood you. And understood what you were going through. With one last look to Tom, you reached out and grabbed the box, thumb running over the sleek leather exterior. Once your thumb reached the bottom you flicked the lid up, unveiling a simple silver chained bracelet. It had five dainty silver charms hanging off it, they looked a bit like leaves but were kind of too small to tell. Moreover, it looked a little worn and preloved but it didn’t stop your eyes from watering when you saw at the bottom another charm, not yet attached that looked newer and pristine.

5 charms already attached and 1 new one.

“Oh” Tom muttered, also clearly very much intrigued, hovering off you left shoulder to see properly. ”That’s mums bracelet. She never really takes it off… that’s nice I guess?” He was obviously confused and it had you chuckling wetly, at how oblivious he could be. You did love your dear idiot.

5 charms for her 5 pregnancies… and now one for yours. One to wear forever, to love, to keep close to your heart.

They were tears of happiness, you were certain of, however, Tom was not at all sure why your flood gates opened again and was worried.

“You-you don’t have to take- I mean if you don’t like it don’t worry-“

“I love it” You breathed, looking up at him with glassy eyes before hastily picking up the extra charm and with shaky fingers clasping it onto the chain next to it. Tom perked up, if still bemused, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know how you convinced her to take it off, I’ve been trying to buy her a new bracelet for years but she’s always stuck with this old thing.”

“Because it’s beautiful!” You yelped in argument, making him laugh at how suddenly you’d switched into a happy and overexcited mood. Though don’t get me wrong, he was loving it.

“You Holland women I will never understand.” He whispered into your ear whilst you looked back at the chain, fixing it round your wrist. His comment made you freeze up, as you felt his grip tightening on your waist as he realised exactly what he might have just let slip out. “No I er- I don’t mean… but-but one day maybe if-if you wanted.”

“I love you” You sighed, kissing him once again to save him the embarrassment of watching his cheeks flush and ears pink up.

“I’m serious though… one day because… because you’re my family and when it happens our family will grow too.”

He was right. And you would, one day,

But you would never forget the two little lives remembered on this bracelet.

tagging people that might be interested (sorry if u don't care ahah): @wayfaring----stranger @vanillanestor @333dolans @thevelvetseries @whitewolf51 

[organic-guacamole]

episode 209 spoilers below

I'm so late today but here it is

I love EJ, he's finally learning to be happy. I'm so proud.

Ms Jenn = every boomer during zoom calls, like jeez yes we can hear you stop shouting at me.

LOVE THE SUBTLE JOKE ABOUT QUARANTINE "these dark times" "you mean spring break?"

ah yes, remember when we thought covid was just gonna give us a longer spring break? good times

SEBLOS

damn the passive aggressiveness from Carlos and the absolutely over it tone from seb✋

CASWELL COUSINS!!!!! THEY'RE THE BEST!!!!

we needed more if this kind of goofiness for the first part of season 2 that only such an iconic duo can provide.

old old movies-

is it even that old, or is Nini being a gen alpha rn-

i choose to imagine EJ being scared of the movie and hiding in Ashlyn's shoulder while she keeps a straight face and then EJ pretending to be tough afterwards

aww redlyn are soulmates.... yknow, if gingers had souls

(please ignore me)

y'all saw how EJ's face *lit up* when Gina logged on? how dare you tell me he doesn't like her

ofc she's no damsel in distress, she's Gina porter, she's amazing.

so do we think she'd be the type to just glare at suspicious people? or bark at them

do they not know that Rini broke up? or is Ms Jenn just wanting Nini to suffer through her heartbreak to make her a better actress....

speaking of, why is Nini in the call? she's not in the show anymore. Unless she is, even after the rose and the song got cut, which would be so unfair to all those that auditioned properly before she even came back but whatever, she's the main character I get it 🙄

big red is a hero honestly, Nini better thank him for changing the subject like that

I can't-

i won't work you over the break-

this woman would 100% work her kids 24/7 if it was legal and idk how to feel about it.

YES GINA USE THAT CHARM

QUEEN

FRENCH QUEEN

SHE LEARNT FROM THE BEST (antoine obvi)

smh the airport lady, eavesdropping on Gina's call.

The way she was so happy to answer EJ's call, "eej"

I love them your honour.

EJ WITH PAINTED NAILS YES PLEASE

great now we need to see Gina, Ashlyn and EJ having a complete spa day and EJ getting really into it and Gina and Ashlyn take pictures of him when he's laying down in a robe with a mask and cucumbers on his eyes.

finally we get to see Gina's side of portwell

the way she considered it as flirting, this is the sign she asked for in episode 6 come onnnnn

no is Asher/jack really doing tiktok dances in an airport-

Ricky is me. I am burrito.

oh Lynne, sweetie, I'm sorry but the blonde hair is not it

is that even the same lady or-

THE BEAN

THE CHICAGO BEAN

THE BIG OLD METAL BEAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY 😭

jetlag is my go to excuse for anything... I haven't travelled in 2 years.

"welcome to the Lynne and Mike gossip show. where we talk about our depressed son that we both neglect in certain ways! And now a word from our sponsor, Nord VPN..."

SO MANY CANDLES

WHAT DEMON IS LYNNE TRYING TO SUMMON IN HIS ROOM-

is Nina becoming social media obsessed EJ from season 1? AND SHE LIED ABOUT HAVING SONGS TOO PLEASE WHY ARW THEY RECYCLING THE SAME PLOT-

Gina smiling at the picture of her family on Instagram makes me so happy, idek why.

EJ's nails are so pretty, we needed to see it more (unless he had it on for the rest of the episode and I just.... didn't notice🧍🏽‍♀️)

oh not the tiktok kid✋

yes ma'am end this strange mans whole tiktok career

sir take a hint and leave

GINA NO DONT SAY YOUR LAST NAME HE COULD BE A HUMAN TRAFFICKER

Ricky, walking in style✨

weird kid, ok then Lynne, can't you see he's this close to the edge?

not all your fault baby Ricky, Nini sucks a bit more

RICKY YOU DIDN'T COME DOWN HARD ON THE SONG-

YOU ASKED WHAT IT WAS ABOUT AND SHE SHUT YOU DOWN-

PLEASE DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF

ok but the deleting comment thing was very bad

still don't know if I like Jack honestly

hmmm so Nini's calling herself Nini instead of Nina in her little egg seat, while trying to write a song without inspiration.... Nini, honey, Ricky was your muse, he inspired you to write all those songs, even if it wasn't good for the relationship.

that doesn't mean you gotta get back with him, or that you can't write a song that not about him butttt it'll take some time

the rainbow sticker in her box and her rainbow shirt-

anyways wbk she's not totally straight

Jack are you a criminal?

quick, Gina, check his ankle for a tracker

THE YES AND PRACTICE STRIKES AGAIN

the way Gina wasn't into it in episode 6 but she's used the technique twice now

stole her grandma's Pomeranian-

Jack where the hell did you pull that out from-

the fake crying killed me, that looks like so much fun though

anyone wanna raid a first class lounge with me?

wait so is jack not gonna go in with her?

wouldn't he go in too? help look for the credit card? SO CONFUSED

the first class lounge guy was so into the drama though, watch his face when they start arguing 😭

sorry to break this to you Kourtney, but you haven't even blocked the second act yet soooo...

take that as you will

I love how all of them are totally dissing the dance off

that's the most realistic part of this show tbh

shouldn't Nini have asked how she knew....since the start? why is the fact that her best friend has knowledge of a North high secret now dawning on her...

Howie is sweet honestly, at least he's trying to help. but I stand with Kourtney, don't take him back just because he sang an amazing song, and is giving you a heads up on what's gonna happen...

KOURTNEY IS ME TRYING TO LEAVE AN ONLINE CLASS

I hate school

ooo Nini's writing a song about bad internet connection 🤩🤩🤩

I never lie, except when I do-

son that is the creepiest thing you could say to a stranger that you've been "helping"

2 truths and a lie👀

he's an Ariana fan 100%

called it.

OLDER BROTHER-

WHAT-

free spirit? damn so brother porter was in that horse movie

so has she been kissed or not?????????

I feel like she's moved more than 15 times though so possibly

but then if she's moved so much, and before east high she never opened up to anyone, she's never been kissed then?? damn

same though Gina so let's be besties please

heartbreak president is a great song title idea, give Nini a call rn

but wait

is the no strings attached feeling thing about her telling Ricky she liked him? she thought she was moving away so she thought it'd be no strings attached???

guys I think I figured it out insert the "I've connected two dots" meme

THE DUKE SWEATSHIRT

IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND'S

OMG I LOVE I LOVE

NOT THAT I KNOW OF???

ma'am did you just kill me

yes you did

Lynne and Ricky have such a weird relationship

YES IT DID SUCK

TODD SUCKS

LYNNE SUCKS

yeah I get that you wanted Ricky to like Todd BUT THAT WASN'T THE TIME

right so we already know that Ricky was so desperate to keep Nini cuz he didn't want to be like his parents, and now Lynne's talking about this-

Richard needs a long hug

yes Lynne, it is your fault. thank you for finally admitting it.

YES DYE YOUR HAIR

BLOND HIGHLIGHTS RICKY WILL RISE AGAIN

"sometimes the best, last thing you can do for someone you love, is let them go."

gotta admit I teared up at that point

not me thinking big red was calling ms Jenn cupcake for a hot second-

Carlos please omg, you're at the "beach" and they're leaving for the pool?

also, why not just do the call from the hotel room please omg

"don't ask me"

"Carlos"

OMG WHAT HAPPENED

big red wants the tea

O M G

SEB IS JEALOUS

JEALOUS SEBBY IS MY FAVOURITE THING IDC

I'm surprised ms Jenn knew how to give Nini permission to screenshare tbh

So lily's been stalking the East high kids and spending time editing this video while she's supposedly in an immersion trip.... right

EJ and Ashlyn's picture is so chaotic, what even is happening there

"slacking off" bestie its spring break, obviously they're confident enough that they'll get it done in time so why not focus on your own musical.

jealous seb = sassy seb

please what if those guys Carlos is posing with are his cousins or something and that's why he's so confused about Seb

6 YEAR OLD EJ I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

Nini saying she's obsessed with her ex, that's not weird at all 👍

I can just tell Matt had a blast harassing Julia with those puppets.

Jack please dont be like that, "yet"

chances are you'll never see eachother again 🥰

(honestly sometimes I really miss those friends I made on trips and stuff when we'd spend the day or week together, only to never see them again....those were the good days though)

Ashlyn and Nini should write more songs..... something better than this one at least

Nini: "im good"

cue the Tia Mowry (please I can't spell) crying gif

oh I forgot Ricky was in the show for a hot second

1. where did Gina get to film this without people being around

2. did she just... randomly change her clothes???

ok but the transition between Carlos and EJ

*chefs kiss*

now everyone shut up, EJ's singing

oh i think I'm pregnant

HIS MUSCLES

YES KOURTNEY

I love how big red and Kourtney went from being "the best friends™" to the couple in season 1, to kinda close themselves and having their own plots

sebby makes me so happy

props to biggies editing skills honestly

PORTWELL BEING SIDE TO SIDE I CANT

AND SEBLOS OMG

big red lives for the drama

"wow" so true Ricky

no he is not cute, stop it

"holding" ok that's kinda cute

yeah EJ's a lucky guy😌

jokes aside, it's not that hard to exchange numbers-

keep in touch if you want

ok I really like Jack now

if he comes back in season 3, maybe have him be LGBTQ+ ?

like the only out characters they have rn are Seb and Carlos and they're like the sterotypes, yk?

I'd love to see jack kinda break the mold

Ricky's breaking my heart

that song just hurts

the only thing

now I don't hate Lynne????????

HOW DARE THEY WRITE IN A PROPER REDEMPTION ARC FOR HER

UGH IM SUPPOSED TO HATE HER FOREVER

I mean I don't live her now but she's good

but honestly

"mom can I show you something"

IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL

THE PICTURE AND EVERYTHING OMG

I'm sobbing please help

Gina saying she's just waiting for the right guy and then EJ coming to the airport to pick her up late at night without her asking, offering to bring her back in the morning so she won't have to Uber, bringing her a granola bar (WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE FORGOT TO PACK) and without expecting anything in return???

ms ma'am you've got a keeper right there

her smile at the end was so heartwarming I really can't.

this episode was great.

it felt really short but I liked it, great character development for Ricky, Lynne and Gina.

Cant wait for next episode to see more of EJ being the ideal boyfriend /hj

[whythinktoomuch]

Something’s wrong. 

Kara can tell the moment she steps into Andrea’s office because Andrea’s avoiding her gaze. And pacing. And fidgeting, meticulously tugging at her own fingers before dropping her hands away altogether with a sharp exhale. 

Andrea was uncertain and nervous, her entire body riddled with unease, and something so clearly had to be wrong. 

“What is it? What happened?” Kara hisses, her shoulders already squaring, ready to be draped by a red cape at a moment’s notice. 

Andrea’s cheeks swiftly lose all color and her heart starts pattering just a tiny bit faster, but her scoff sounds just as natural as ever when she says, “Nothing happened, Kara.” 

“Okay...” Kara crosses her arms, her frown unassuming though unconvinced. “Why did you call me in here then?” 

A darkened scowl tugs at Andrea’s sharp features, her jaw clenching tight and determined. But the moment quickly passes without consequence, and Andrea’s shoulders eventually drop, and she draws back every so slightly. “Just... wanted to make sure you were working.” 

Kara stares, bewildered. “Well, I was.” 

“Good,” Andrea says flatly. “Get back to it then.” 

“All right,” Kara says, her abject curiosity thoroughly unsatisfied. “I’ll go do that.” 

She can feel Andrea’s stare burning a hole into her back as she leaves the office. 

—

Kara notices her right away. It’s impossible not to, even with her senses slightly dulled by the pleasant buzz that could only come from consuming an exorbitant amount of Chinese food in one sitting. 

The sight is unexpected, but not unwelcome, and there’s no point in trying to convince her heart otherwise. So, even though she shouldn’t, Kara can’t help herself as she bursts into Andrea’s office, her heart thundering and stuttering in her ears in equal measure. 

“What are you doing here?” she demands, the question cutting through the air, sharp and splintering.  

Lena barely looks up, hands still carelessly sifting through the various documents spread across Andrea’s desk, her expression somehow bored. As if she had any right to be there. To disrupt Kara’s entire life with a simple look. “What does it look like I’m doing?” 

“Andrea’s not here,” Kara informs her coldly, and Lena just rolls her eyes so heavily, never pausing in her task. And, well, it’s unfair. “Lena, you can’t just—”

“Really?” Andrea’s clipped tone rings out as she stomps into the room. “You’re just going to show up like you—what—own the place?” 

Lena flashes a smirk, her shrug small yet utterly self-satisfied. “Well, you weren’t exactly answering my calls, babe.” 

Andrea’s scowl deepens considerably. “Get out.” 

“Fine...” Lena sighs, tucking a small flashdrive into her pocket. “Already found what I came for anyway.” 

She saunters out, but not without throwing one last look over her shoulder. A frown, apparently, for Kara’s benefit. Her eyebrow raised in such a pointed fashion that it must mean something. 

It twists at Kara’s stomach, already swirling unhappily in the wake of Lena’s perfume. 

Kara quickly glances back at Andrea, who was now taking her seat at her desk with a weary sigh. “Was that something important? Do you need me to get it back for you?” 

“It’s fine,” Andrea says, waving her hand dismissively. “You can go too.” 

Kara blinks, taken aback. “Andrea, I work for you, so if you need me to—”

“Yes! You do,” Andrea all but snaps, cutting Kara off with an icy glare. “And I’m telling you to get out of my office.” 

After a prolonged, teetering moment of holding her tongue, Kara just shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re the boss,” she mutters, fastidiously reminding herself to not slam the door on her way out. 

//

It’s been a long day of putting out literal fires all over downtown for Supergirl, and Kara’s tired, covered head to toe in soot, and in desperate need of a hot shower and a warm bed. And so, it’s only natural that she hears a bona fide emergency unfolding on her way home. 

The unsavory combination of a distinct click of a hammer being pulled back and a panicked wait! has Kara hurtling straight for L-Corp without a second thought. Within seconds, she has her cape thrown up and over Andrea’s trembling form, bullets ricocheting uselessly off the heavy fabric. 

Tugging Andrea close to her chest, Kara throws her cape aside in a sharp flourish, and blows out a gust of freeze breath that scatters the gunmen like veritable dominoes. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kara can’t help but demand, her tone verging on the more exasperated side of incredulity. “Why are you snooping around Lena’s office?” 

Andrea snorts. “I wasn’t snooping,” she says in a slight sneer, and the wave of whiskey hits Kara as a solid wall of sickly sweet because, oh, Andrea was so very clearly and oh so thoroughly drunk. “I was just... well, it doesn’t matter. Just let go of me.” 

Kara backs off, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Lena right now, but whatever it is, you need to fix it. Fast. Because it almost got you killed tonight.” 

“They weren’t after me,” Andrea says, rolling her eyes. “They were after Lena. I just happened to be here, and well, collateral damage, I suppose.” 

“But you would have died just the same. How are you not getting that? You could have died, Andrea, and—” 

“Stop,” Andrea snaps, her eyes wild, yet terribly, terribly focused. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not some pathetic damsel in distress like your precious little Lena. I don’t need—”

The next thing Kara knew, Andrea’s staring up at her, mouth slightly agape, her delicate wrist somehow encased in Kara’s tight grasp. “Never... talk about Lena like that,” she gets out between painfully gritted teeth, and Andrea’s breath falters in a half-hearted scoff. “She’s a friend. Mine and yours, and she’s the most...” 

A pained whimper tumbles from Andrea’s lips and stops Kara cold, and she promptly snatches her hand back, cheeks burning furiously in realization and shame. 

Andrea rubs at her wrist, where Kara’s grip remains readily apparent, an inexcusable brand of angry pink and slight bruising. “A friend,” she repeats, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Right.” 

“I’m sorry...” Kara reaches out instinctively, her heart sinking with heavy regret, but Andrea flinches away from her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you...” She sighs and backs off even more with a ducked head. “Listen, just go home, okay? Take care of yourself.” 

With one last apologetic nod, Kara grabs the pair of still unconscious, would-be assassins by their shirt collars and takes off into the air, desperately fighting off the inevitable guilt still hanging over her as she flies over to the nearest police station. 

// 

When she hears the persistent knock at her door, Kara wastes no time super-speeding out of her bed and right to the door in question. Because it’s practically four in the morning, and anyone knocking at her door at four in the morning has to be having an emergency of some sort or another. 

But even so, it comes as a complete shock when Andrea ends up being the person standing on the other side of the door. 

“Andrea?” Kara blinks, the exhaustion slipping off her bones as bewilderment settles in its stead. But Andrea hardly seems to notice, shoving her way into Kara’s apartment like she belongs there. “... How did you know where I live?” 

“What the hell is your deal with Lena?” Andrea says, whirling around in a fury, and it’s immediately evident that she was somehow even drunker now than she had been at L-Corp. “Why are you so fucking obsessed with her anyway?” 

Kara’s jaw drops in outright disbelief. “I—ex-cuse me?” she sputters out. “You show up to my house in the middle of the night to interrogate me about Lena, and I’m the one obsessed with her?” 

“You’re changing the subject,” Andrea says, words sliding out of her mouth careless and slurred. “I’m just asking a simple little question, and all I need is a simple little answer, so if you would just please get—”

“It’s none of your business.” 

Andrea blinks. Then blinks again. Then stares. 

“It’s... none of your business how I feel about Lena,” Kara says with a defiant shrug. “Or anything about us really, okay? Just try to focus on your own issues with her, and stop making everything so messy and complicated.” She then shakes her head, sighing. “This is all highly inappropriate, by the way. You’re my boss, Andrea. You can’t be drunkenly berating me about personal matters like this. Like, at my apartment? This late?” 

“So, you meant it then?” Andrea asks softly. 

“Meant... what?” 

“What were you going to say?” Andrea asks instead, now tugging at her sleeve, rubbing insistently at the imprint that Kara’s hand had left around her wrist. “Before you stopped yourself, what were you going to say about Lena?” 

Kara’s stomach drops, the implications behind Andrea’s simple line of questioning striking her where she stands, where she lives. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She goes to adjust her glasses, but her hand closes around empty air, and Kara’s already made so many mistakes today since getting out of bed this morning, and yet somehow, it seems that she’s made even more just in the last five minutes. 

“Don’t be like that,” Andrea says, pressing closer, looking up at Kara so earnestly that Kara’s ears start to burn, as if in solidarity. “Just tell me.” 

Kara forces a laugh, eyes darting helplessly around her sparse living room. “She’s just... really important to me, okay? Happy now?” 

“Even with everything going on between you two?” 

“Well, yeah. Nothing’s ever going to change how I feel about—”

Kara’s cut off as Andrea’s lips crash against hers. 

All higher brain function snuffs out, and Kara freezes in place. She can barely process the firm press of Andrea’s mouth, soft lips moving against her own slowly yet insistently, the bittersweet taste of whiskey spreading across her tongue... 

Then Kara grabs Andrea’s shoulders, shoving her at arm’s length with a strangled gasp. “What are you doing? You can’t—Andrea, you’re drunk!” 

“I’m... not.” Andrea sighs, almost resigned, and Kara could almost laugh out of sheer incredulity. Or maybe hysteria. Perhaps both. 

“Um, yes, you are. I can literally taste the whiskey off your breath,” Kara says, before abruptly coughing and shaking her head. “I mean, smell. I can smell the... you know, the whiskey...” 

“No,” Andrea growls, her eyes growing sharp, alert. “I’m not... Andrea.” 

Kara takes a step back, her entire face scrunching into a deeply perplexed frown. 

She studies the face staring back at her. The sharp features, the pouting red lips and the jagged scar across the brow, all deeply familiar and completely at odds with the assertion that had just spilled forth from those very same lips. 

But Kara wills herself to look harder, to look past the obvious, and meets the insistent gaze before her head-on. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest, somehow recognizing the eyes before her brain can even catch up. 

They’re the wrong color, but it’s the very same softened expression that had accompanied the words that still drift into Kara’s awareness at the most inconvenient moments. 

I know you believe that everything is good...

Kara swallows hard.

And kind...

She blinks and shakes her head, but it clears up absolutely nothing for her. 

And that is one of the things I love about you. 

Kara holds her breath, and dares to venture, to believe, to hope. 

“... Lena?”

[shieldmaidenofgod]

Writing Our History––Part 1

“Arthur, my boy!” Dutch van der Linde called as he spotted the outlaw ride back into camp. “Where have you been?”

“In town,” Arthur replied. “Had to grab some things. Why? Did something happen?” The light from the setting sun illuminated the worry in the cowboy’s eyes.

Dutch chuckled and a glint of mischief twinkled in his eyes. “You could say that. Hitch up your horse and follow me.”

Arthur ended up sitting by the campfire with a bowl of Pearson’s stew. The other men surrounding the fire leaned forward as they listened intently to Dutch’s news.

“So,” he began, “I got tipped off at the saloon today by the barman. Said there’s an enormous mansion right in the middle of a huge plot of land ‘bout ten miles north of here.”

“So we’re just robbin’ some rich bastard?” Sean asked, taking a sip from his beer bottle.

“Not if you let me finish, MacGuire,” Dutch scolded, and the Irishman raised his hands defensively, causing the other men to laugh.

“I also found out that the man of that house, Hawthorn, owns a rather successful tailoring company. He has a location right in the middle of Valentine, so I headed over there to see if I could find out anything else, and I heard he has but one daughter.” Dutch stopped there and spread his hands, as if the conclusion were obvious.

There was a pause while the men tried to figure out what Dutch’s plan was.

Arthur swallowed a bite of stew before asking, “So what, we kidnap ‘er?”

“You always were the smart one,” Dutch commented. “I managed to get a tipoff from one of his servants, if you can believe it. French girl. Poor young lady was barely holdin’ it together, you could tell she’d been cryin’ for a good long while. Apparently, he’s gonna marry his girl off to one of his business partners in a few days.”

“A good reason to demand a bigger ransom,” Charles spoke up.

“Exactly,” Dutch declared, pointing to Charles. “And think of this, if a mere servant has that much of an attachment to her mistress, who’s to say her parents don’t adore her even more? So, who’s with me? I’ll need a handful of men to get this done right.”

All the other men around the campfire looked to Arthur, as if for his permission.

Arthur shrugged. “When you wantin’ to leave?” he asked Dutch.

“Tomorrow morning. Early. Least we can do is scope out the house from afar.”

Arthur nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Dutch grinned. “It’s settled, then. Are you all with me?” he asked the others, who all nodded (except for Sean, who gave a hearty cheer). “Good, very good. Well, we all better get some rest then, if we want to head out by dawn tomorrow.”

The next day, Dutch, Arthur, Charles, and Sean rode out of camp at the break of dawn for the northern end of Valentine and eventually arrived on the border of Mr. Hawthorn’s land by 7:30. They all managed to stay low while observing the house and its surroundings through their binoculars.

“See anything interesting?” Sean asked Arthur, who was using the pair of binoculars the two of them were sharing.

“Not much,” Arthur grunted, handing the binoculars over to Sean beside him. “Lot of windows, though. We’ll have to steer clear of those.”

“I see a carriage. They just pulled it up to the house,” Charles announced from his position, also looking through a pair of binoculars.

“Anyone gettin’ in or out?” Arthur asked, Sean still looking through his binoculars.

“Not yet.” Charles paused for a moment. “Wait. The front doors are opening. It looks like Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorn––I’m guessing it’s them, at least. Ah, that’s definitely their daughter.” He lowered his binoculars. “When do we move, Dutch?”

“Not yet,” their leader answered. “We wait until they’re far enough away from their property and not too close to town. Then we strike.”

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

Once the Hawthorns were seated in the carriage and their luggage strapped to the roof, the carriage was off to the nearest town: Saint Denis.

Mrs. Hawthorn looked down her nose at her daughter, who sat across from her and her husband and was engaged in reading her collection of E. B. B. poetry. “Put that accursed book away,” Mrs. Hawthorn snapped.

(Y/N) jerked in surprise at the sudden break in silence. She looked back down in dismay at the loss of her only entertainment, closed the book, and put it in her carpet bag beside her.

“Honestly––” her mother continued, “––it’s positively shameful, being a female author. As if any decent man would wish to marry one. It’s not a woman’s place.”

“No,” (Y/N) countered in a biting tone, a smug smirk on her pretty face. “But it must be a woman’s place to be married against her will to a man she’s never met.”

“You will marry whoever we choose for you and that is final!” Mrs. Hawthorn slammed her fan against her lap in emphasis.

(Y/N) slumped in her seat and crossed her arms, a difficult and uncomfortable position considering her garments and tightly-strung corset, but the action was worth the horrified looks on her parents’ faces.

“This is so unfair! Maybe I do wish to become an unmarried author! Why should you be the ones to stop me?”

“Stop that ugly slouching and sit up this instant!” her father exclaimed.

“Oh, I’ll slouch if I bloody want to!” (Y/N) shouted back.

“Now you listen here, young lady!” Mr. Hawthorn roared and pointed a shaking finger in (Y/N)’s direction. “We know far better what is best for you than you do. I’ll not have you vilifying our family name by running off and becoming some undignified, unmarried hooligan!” he spat, his eyes glinting with rage. His fat mustache continued to wag as he yammered on about what a disgrace she would be to the family name if she did not marry his business partner, but (Y/N) had stopped listening.

Everything about the whole situation was so unbelievably unfair. (Y/N)’s parents had always been rather controlling of her, but never to an extent as drastic as this. Or, perhaps, she had just never noticed how little control over her own life she had ever actually had.

What I wouldn’t give to just run away from all of this, (Y/N) thought to herself, completely unaware of how soon her wish would come true.

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

“Okay, move out! Come on! Go, go, go!” Dutch yelled, riding forward in a full gallop behind the carriage.

Charles, Arthur, and Sean, led by Dutch sped after the carriage, bandanas covering their lower faces to protect them from the kicked-up dust and from being recognized. Once they got closer to the carriage, Arthur whipped out a pistol and fired a warning shot at the carriage. The bullet zipped through the very top of the carriage wall right below the covered roof, signaling to those inside that they had company.

Terrified screams erupted from inside the carriage and the four horses pulling the car whinnied in fright. The driver desperately pulled on the reins, attempting to stop the beasts so that no more threatening shots would be fired in less-than-cosmetic directions. Once the carriage came to a stop, the driver threw his hands in the air.

“Pl-please don’t hurt me, sirs!” the driver exclaimed.

“Oh, we ain’t here for you, boy!” Dutch shouted as the other outlaws threw open the carriage doors.

Arthur and Charles reached into the carriage and pulled out a thrashing (Y/N). She clutched her carpet bag to her chest and screamed frantically but the men paid her no mind, throwing her in the front of Sean’s saddle.

“Take her home, boys!” Dutch shouted and he, Charles, Arthur, and Sean spurred their horses into a gallop back the way they’d come.

“Let me go!” (Y/N) screeched. “Let me go, you brutes!”

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, lassie,” Sean answered behind her. “We’re gonna be hangin’ onto you for now.”

Once the party arrived at camp, (Y/N) had calmed down, becoming rather apathetic. Sean lowered her off his horse and into the waiting arms of Miss Grimshaw.

“We don’t want to hurt you, miss,” Dutch called to (Y/N) in a slightly smug tone. “We just want some compensation from your family, that's all!”

“Come on now, dear,” Miss Grimshaw said gently. “Let’s get that dust out of your dress and a tent set up for you.” She led (Y/N), who only nodded, away from the horses.

[rainbowsky]

Another delicate thing about fake ships. (I'm not talking about our YiZhan. They are real. For better or worse certain (dangerous) evidence have reached public eyes. We all know it, many have seen it). But certain ppl new to c dramas might not know that actor CP is just part of the show. I didn't know when I started. Then those people invest a lot of time $ and emotion into that CP believing it's real. And get the rug pulled from under. It's unfair to those naive ppl and it harms certain ppl. Like it or not some get really invested. To hurt them is cruel and triggering. It can feel like rejection and I really wish actors wouldn't partake in this. To profit off ppl's beliefs is cruel. Again. NOT yizhan, two men in a very real situation.

These are in reference to a previous post. More under cut.

Discussion of fake ships, fandom rivalries and insecurities around whether BJYXSZD.

Anonymous asked:

Semi agree that I don't follow other CP. but when others do fake cp and claim "evidence" even when it is flimsy. It makes me question myself and I hate that. There's so much hard evidence for xz and web. When others have "evidence" too and it seems so forced and fake, not to mention copied from yizhan, idk it makes me feel bad. Like maybe we're all crazy. I wish other dramas didn't do that. Be real. Don't fake it. The other men have gf's. It's just derivative and I think that's why ppl get offended. Web and xz seem serious about their life together and for others to profit of their realness... It just makes me question it. If we have evidence and those fans truly believe they do too... Either we are all right, or maybe we are all wrong. And I hate to deny web and xz. So it's hurtful. I hope someone can understand my feelings.

Sorry for the grouping of messages but I don't want to give this too much airtime because it can lead to hurt feelings from people who support other ships, and because this isn't what my blog is about. It's about GG and DD.

I try not to judge anyone harshly when it comes to fan service and CP marketing. It's a cutthroat industry and I think we can all see that. But I feel that making a CP seem real just to profit off of people for a while and then breaking their hearts... it's not something I personally feel comfortable with. It strikes me as unnecessarily cruel.

However, we don't know what's in people's contracts so we should be careful about judging anyone or being nasty. In the end people are just doing their jobs, whether we like it or not. And some fans enjoy it. Live and let live.

As for other actors being 'derivative' of GGDD, I completely disagree. It's not like GG and DD invented the CP. The whole concept was there long before them, and will likely be there long after. Even in cases where there were similarities to what GG and DD did, I don't think it's something to get worked up about. We don't own GG and DD's interactions as some sort of IP we need to protect.

I said this back when people were fan fighting over the BL CPs, that it's ridiculous and awful to fight over something like this. We should all be on the same side. BL stories are not easy to create or air in China - we all know that more now than we did back then - and the more BL stories that get aired, the better for everyone. The better for the market, the better for fans, the better for queer people too.

History has shown that cultural shifts can lead to legislative shifts. As queer stories become more mainstream, the demand for rights - and the public's appetite for seeing those rights observed - becomes stronger, and positive change happens. It is, in fact, likely a big part of why these types of stories are being cracked down on. Some people don't want that change.

If we care about these issues we would do well to support all BL projects and everyone who is willing to stick their neck out and make those projects happen, not just our particular biases.

Not only that, but fan wars are harmful to GG and DD, harmful to any celebrity whose fans are 'out of control'. I have been preaching this for a couple of years now, but here we are in 2021 and what have we seen? Artists being cracked down on for the behavior of their fans. Rules coming out to clearly state this, hinting at harsh penalties.

So please, people - take it to heart. There is no war that you don't CHOOSE to create. This isn't a competition. There is room for everyone to have fun, be happy and enjoy their fandoms in whatever way they choose.

Everyone has the right to their perspective. I said this the other day. No one is obligated to believe BJYXSZD, and similarly, no one is obligated to disagree or debunk. If people are enjoying their CP, that's their right. Let's not get smug and dickish about things. We aren't in competition.

One other thing I want to add: We should be willing to question ourselves, question our evidence and re-evaluate things from time to time. It's just part of being a rational human. Insecurity about what is 'real' and what isn't - all of this is pointless and IMNSHO, unhealthy.

Bad feelings should never make us into bad people. Bad feelings should never make us do or say bad things.

Insecurity is understandable at times. We're all human. But I urge fans to try not to take everything so personally, and to not get our identities as human beings wrapped up in whether BJYXSZD.

Whether GG or DD are real or not - this doesn't make me crazy or stupid or naive. I believe based on the evidence I have. If I turn out to be wrong about it - ME, who has this blog and spends an enormous amount of time on GGDD - if it turns out to all be wrong, my life won't shatter. I won't curl up in an embarrassed ball and die.

I get a hell of a lot of enjoyment out of this fandom. That enjoyment is real. My love for GGDD is real. I am a person in the world. I don't live and die over whether BJYXSZD. Neither should any of you.

My love for GGDD doesn't come from them, it comes from me. It's not about them, it's about me. It's about my heart and my appetite for sweetness and connection. It's about my politics and what I stand for and support. It's about everything inside me.

If their relationship was proved to be fake, or if it was to end, that wouldn't change a thing for me. I would still be the same person with the same heart. I would still have the same values and drives. I might be sad, of course, or even hurt a bit depending on the circumstances, but it wouldn't change who I am or what I'm about.

I will never be ashamed of loving someone. I will never be ashamed of sharing my heart or letting something touch my heart.

I won't be taking any more asks on this subject unless they bring a substantially fresh perspective that hasn't already been expressed. I apologize in advance if you send me something that I don't reply to/post. This is just a boundary I have with asks like this.

[secretaryunpaid]

Losing Crown Princess Eleanor...

Word Count:1995

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): Emotional and physical trauma, spontaneous abortion, anxiety, abduction

~~~~~

~~~~~

~~~~Barren~~~

~~~~~  Losing Princess Eleanor… ~~~~~

Riley had learned that she was pregnant less than a month after returning from her honeymoon… She already felt it in her heart, but was afraid to test her theory… she didn’t want to take away from the magical memories she had shared with her loving husband…

Sex on the beach, then sex in the villa, to sex on the flight home… She could never have enough of her husband’s body, nor he hers… But she didn’t want to put him on an emotional rollercoaster with all of the scandalous press that had been published of their love escapades in the waters of the beautifully secluded private island he purchased for her as a wedding gift… one of many she would discover over time.

Liam wanted to spoil his Queen, knowing that she wouldn’t agree to his suggestions of her having property outside of his Valtoria estate that he gifted to her … He never spoke of his time there with Alina… it wouldn’t erase their history… it wouldn’t bring her back… When he found Riley, nothing from his past mattered anymore… or so he’d convinced himself. He went on to secretly purchase islands in the Maldives, along the Amalfi Coast, France, and Monterisso. His plans were to have purchased properties throughout the world for her to escape should she ever tire of her Queenly duties.

Little did he know that the Queen of Spies would be drawn to Cordonia for discussions of an alliance simply because he had purchased a lavish estate for his new bride in her country. He had also found the courage to visit property in Auvernal owned by his deceased mother. His father had hidden this from him, never wanting him to have anything to do with any parts of the country… blaming his refusal to form an alliance with them or implement Eleanor’s joint project requests as the cause for her assassination. 

It had been bequeathed to him in her will, but this information had not come to light until Riley uncovered the property deeds and project folder in Eleanor’s secret study. This also drew Queen Isabella and King Bradshaw to Cordonia seeking an alliance as well, especially since their spies had told them Monterisso was approaching for an alliance.

It was shortly after their marriage that the Queen would be abducted and held for the highest ransom Liam would ever have requested of him, his life in return for that of his Queen. He would tell no one of his decision to give his life freely over to his enemy, as he knew that she would probably lose her life in their feeble attempts to prevent his choice.  

He would receive a summons from none other than Anton Severus. The images sent with the request immediately caused Liam to vomit. His worst fears were realized before his eyes. Anton had severely beaten Riley, her clothes tattered … her face, filthy and swollen… Anton wasn’t without his own bruises, signifying that his Queen had put up a valiant effort to free herself from her captor. The dried blood stains throughout her torso were sending daggers through Liam’s heart. The last thing removed from the envelope was a flash drive…He opened his laptop, inserting it into the usb port… 

Clicking on the folder with much apprehension, it opens to show a video file. Fearing what he may see… Liam decided not to watch, unsure if it was cowardice or fearing that he may act irrationally, endangering Riley’s life even more… He arranges an unmarked car, and exits the castle through a secret passage. 

As he makes his way to the destination, Olivia enters his office, having just received word of Riley’s capture. In his haste, Liam failed to lock his desktop which worked to Olivia’s advantage. She saw the peculiar envelope on the desk, her usual curious nature taking control… she removed the contents and her heart wrenched at the sight of the photos… silently vowing to end her unwanted husband’s life.

Olivia places a quick call to the only person that has been able to keep their identity hidden while assisting her during multiple operations. She immediately recognized the former Nevrakis stronghold, amazed that Anton could be so absentminded… or did he wish to be found? Regrettably, she does something Liam didn’t have the courage to do… watch the video content … She immediately loses her footing, feeling immense empathy for Riley hearing her tormentous wailing and muttered cries for Liam… begging him to just let her die… No woman should have to endure this… friend or foe. She takes the drive and other items … not wanting anyone else to know this happened to their beloved Queen.

As she heads to assist in the rescue, the video plays on repeat in her mind… her temper reaching its maximum… calming only when she realizes that Riley sent a message… if not followed to the letter, she and Liam were sure to be dead by the time of her arrival. She immediately calls her second most trusted ally… the Queen of Monterisso. “Amalas, I need your help…” Her former anxiety turned into a sinister excitement… accelerating at higher speeds to quickly reach her destination.

She knew that Anton would have many forces awaiting the King’s arrival, and half expected them to kill him before ever reaching Riley. But she remembered that the Nevrakis' way was to kill their own target, sending clear messages to anyone who heard of their actions, knowing they’d dare not speak a word. 

In her rush to cover traces of what was occurring with the King and Queen, she’d failed to notice that Drake had been covertly hiding in the shadows, curious as to why Olivia was exiting the King’s study. He’d heard her place a call to Amalas, and upon her walking a far enough distance not to notice, he peered into the open door, noting that Liam wasn’t present. This prompted him to follow Olivia. He immediately knew that something was up that everyone was trying to keep secret, but he wasn’t going to be left out if Liam needed him.

He also placed a call to Hana to let her know where he was headed should he not happen to return. Someone must know of his whereabouts. Sharing his location with her, she decided to play a bit of a spy queen of her own… one of her many talents being hacking advanced satellite systems and much more. The one thing she had not mastered was driving, so she needed help from someone she knew would want to be involved in this rescue effort… Maxwell Beaumont.

When Amalas and Olivia finally reached a safe enough area to proceed on foot, they were stealthily moving towards an entrance known only to Nevrakis. She knew that these things wouldn’t be shared with Anton, because their golden rule was to only entrust a blood born Nevrakis with this information. She truly hated to share this information with the Spy Queen, but now was not the time to keep to family tradition. 

~~~~~ Just before they were to fight off the remaining guards, exhausted but determined, Drake, Hana and Maxwell appear. It wouldn’t take long to rid themselves of their unwanted interference with rescuing the King and Queen. With Maxwell taking the final guard down, the beautiful stroke of his katana ended the last outside threat. 

Once inside, they witness the unfair sword fight ensuing below. Liam outnumbered, but holding his own. Olivia spots Anton Severus, holding a short blade to Riley’s throat, enjoying what looks to be the imminent defeat of Cordonia’s King. Underestimated, Liam stalks toward Anton, sword poised to strike at the moment he reaches him. 

His action was halted as he caught a glimpse of blood trickling along Riley’s neck, his only warning that her life would come to an end should he move closer. This was the first time the King faltered, refusing to allow her death at his urging. Anton motions for him to disarm. 

Tears flowing, Riley insists that he allow her to die… “Cordonia needs its King… Love, let me go… Please !!!!” Crying, he pleads for his life to be taken instead, falling to his knees in surrender. Sweet victory dripping from the demonic smile spreading across his face, Anton never notices the rescuers descending from above. 

Just as he draws his long sword, hoisting it high for a clean slice with the intent to decapitate, Hana sends a blow dart directly into his jugular, the poison immediately having effect… his sword falling away as he clenches his throat. His paralyzed form slumping to the ground. As Hana abhors murder, she only used enough to disarm her enemy, although the effects would take days to wear off.

Liam rushes to Riley, as Olivia frees her from the ropes, careful of any further injury. He kisses her gently, but syncope soon takes over. As he tried to wake her, Olivia noticed the pooling blood. Amalas and Hana do their best to stabilize her as they rush out after Oliva, Drake and Maxwell as Liam carries her protectively… 

Once everyone is in a vehicle, Drake drives full speed until Amalas can give him an ETA on the Life-flight she requested. Once she has coordinates, they arrive minutes later with emergency crew standing at the ready. Liam has to be pulled from her side constantly as they try to assess her. With everyone aboard, they are airlifted to the nearest Lythikos facility. But the Crown Princess would make her untimely arrival prior to landing… Everyone aboard witnessing the despair overtaking the King as he held Riley close, shaking his head no at her pleading looks… preventing her from trying to reach her still born princess, not caring about the treatment they were trying to give her. Her fight would not last long, as she loses consciousness before the King’s terrified eyes.

She would spend weeks in the private wing, Liam by her side.  Amalas, Olivia, Drake, Maxwell and Hana never leaving watch outside the inner room. Anton remained under heavy sedation deep within Olivia’s keep, supervised by her fiercest and loyal guards, awaiting Liam’s orders.

During their time there, the grieving monarchs were like two normal parents who’d suffered this tremendous loss. Liam held Riley as she recounted all of the things they would not get to do with their “Elly”... 

Never getting to sit in the dandelion fields as she loved to do as a child, watching the seeds blow away in the wind… running with the wind flowing through her hair. Never standing over her specialty crib they’d so lovingly selected together as excited as if she would be laying soundly inside as soon as it was assembled in the nursery… Never watching her stare at the paintings Riley spent hours muraling along her wall, with special ordered paints that would shine as the lighted mobile shone upon it as it turned… revealing the hidden treasures within the design. Never watching her fall asleep as her loving father sang the beautiful lullaby his mother sang to him for all of her time with him…

When that dreaded time came, Liam and Riley would have their first moment of time before their little one’s memorial tomb… telling of their love for her still and how much they wanted to watch her grow to be as fierce a leader as they’d become… It would be soon after that Liam would suffer a second tragedy, the fall into postpartum depression he would fight continually to help his wife overcome… feeling the same emotions as his beloved wife, only in a fatherly way…

It would be an announcement like none other… Not the expectation of Cordonia’s first female heir in centuries, but the tragic loss… It would be a Kingdom mourning as one...

~~~~~~~~

The Queen Returns, Summoned...

[midearthwritings]

The Lovers' Three Swords

It is said that you become conscious of what you have only when you lose it. Ofelia almost lost Kíli.

Words Count : 2,749

Pairings : Kíli x Ofelia (OC), slight Kíli x Tauriel if you squint really hard.

Warning : Angst, Canonical Events (but not too canon), Injury, Near Death Experience.

Author's Note : So obviously this is set during BotFA. This is pure angst. From beginning to end.

Also, the title in itself does not make much sense unless you know the meaning of Tarot Cards. I'm kindly inviting you to check the meanings of The Lovers and the Three of Swords.

Snowflakes were falling from the sky at a slow pace, delicately landing onto the cold ground. Everything looked so pure, immaculate. The rocks covered in white, the scattered goblins’ limbs, the crown prince struggling to breathe. Immaculate. 

The few sun rays that peeked through the clouds shyly made the snow shine like thousands of tiny diamonds. Ofelia had never seen diamonds before. But neither had she needed to handle a sword. So, perhaps the day would come when she would lay her eyes upon one of these precious stones.

She, too, looked immaculate, despite the blood that had splattered onto her soft face and ripped garments. Although, she did not know whose blood it was. Hers or theirs? It did not matter when she quickly pulled her blade out of one of those vile creatures to bury it into yet another one of them.

It was messy because she could not aim properly, her lack of skills causing her to tumble backward. Ofelia gasped in surprise when her backside hit the hard ground, sending sharp sparks of pain into her entire body. Or was it in fear at how vulnerable and helpless she now was, at the mercy of those who wanted nothing more than to spill her blood? 

There was no place for tears or thoughts in a battle. It was only about surviving or dying. As she watched a goblin charging in her direction while she desperately tried to reach for her sword, discarded further away, there was only one thought that crossed her mind: she would die.

Goblins were fast. Terrifyingly so. It was on her within a few seconds. Ofelia cried out, her feet kicking at the thin layer of snow beneath her. Her fingertips brushed against the cold metal of her sword’s handle. She cried out again as if to encourage the weapon to come closer. Of course, it did not. So, the poor hobbit kicked harder, sending the goblin onto the ground.

Ofelia thought she would die, but she would not. Not yet. She grabbed the sword tightly and moved back onto her feet. Inside her chest, she felt her heart swelling with fear as she lifted the blade above her head. If she aimed right, she could get rid of it. Kíli had taught her how to aim properly.

Kíli.

“What are you doing with that stick of yours?”

Ofelia turned around, her arms lifted above her head as she readied herself to hit the nearest tree trunk with a thick stick. It was easy to pretend it was an enemy, another troll perhaps. And the stick was heavy and long, like a sword. Not that Ofelia had ever handled a sword. There were not many hobbits that carried weapons around the Shire.

It was easier to pretend when no one looked. And looking—staring even—, that the dark-haired prince did really well. Ofelia’s arms dropped to her sides in defeat, her wooden sword hitting the ground.

“It is not a stick,” she explained softly, “it is a weapon. I, too, need a weapon”.

At Kíli’s roaring laughter, Ofelia felt her cheeks heat up. Unfair. It was mean and unfair. Sadly, she dropped the stick—the simple, idiotic stick— and began to walk back to the camp. 

Behind her, the thunder died down. She heard twigs and leaves cracking as the younger prince walked fastly, catching up with her.

“Oy, Feli!” he called, grabbing Ofelia’s wrist gently. “Please do not be mad. I didn't mean to offend you.”

“These are not proper apologies,” she snapped. “And do not call me Feli!”

The soft caress of Kíli’s rough fingertips on the sensitive skin of her wrist sent shivers down her spine.

“My apologies, Feli,” the prince declared solemnly. Although, she could hear the grin in his voice. “Allow me to make it up to you?”

The offer made her turn around to face him. Ofelia gave him a questioning look, eager to know more.

“How so?” she asked.

She stayed still and quiet when he began to look around them, his eyes scanning the area. Finally, after a quick study of their surroundings, he bent down and picked up another stick. Not as thick and slightly shorter than the one she was playing with a few minutes prior.

With a big smile plastered on his face, Kíli handed it to her. Ofelia took it hesitantly, her eyes still full of questions.

“Let me teach you how to fight.”

And so he had taught her. Every single night, they would both disappear. And, hidden from anyone’s view, they would train with wooden sticks. It had been hard, at first. But Kíli had been patient with her. 

It had gone on for weeks, months even, until Kíli had deemed that she was skilled enough to have her own sword. One of his swords. The same one that collided with the goblin’s throat and sent thick crimson liquid everywhere to soil the ground and herself a bit more.

As she stared down at the creature’s lifeless body, Ofelia mentally scolded herself. She should have gone with him. She should have followed Kíli and Fíli. Poor Fíli, he who was battling against himself to stay awake. 

Everything around Ofelia seemed to slow down when she stopped to consider that maybe Kíli was also dying somewhere. She felt her guts clench and the urge to throw up as a lump formed in her throat. She needed to find him.

Guided by only her feet and the wind’s soft whispers, she began to run. Clutching her sword as if her life depended on it—because it did—, she ran through the dozens of goblins that surrounded her, her blade dancing haphazardly in the air in a weak attempt to hurt anything that ventured too close to her.

“You must hold onto it tightly, Feli. But not too tight, or else it will be a bother and hurt you. Relax your fingers a bit more... Aye, perfect.”

The contrast of the cold snow beneath her feet and the leather burning her palms was overwhelming, but Ofelia could not bring herself to loosen her grip, was it only slightly. 

“Do not be so stiff, you have to rela- no, not too much. Here, just like that, alright? Great. Now hit.”

Ofelia’s muscles were aching with how tense she was. She swung her sword again in an all too painful movement. Her head was pounding. Was she running for his life, or hers? Perhaps both.

Everything looked the same, covered in pure white snow. Ofelia was pretty sure that she had come here at least twice already. A voice, coming from deep inside her heart, shouted at her that she should have never left the Shire. There was no place in this war for a simple hobbit lady such as herself. There was no place amongst dwarves and elves, men and orcs, for a little hobbit.

“It is not easy, using a sword, Feli. It is alright to make mistakes. Everyone does. Mahal, I do not have enough fingers to count how many times I made mistakes. But, it will be worth it, in the end. You will see, Feli.”

And once she would find him, it would be worth every cut, every blister, every tear. Firmly planting her feet on the ground, her lungs feeling too tight from how much she had run, she screamed his name. She called for the prince, snowflakes crashing onto her face, hoping that he was still alive enough to hear her and call back.

It was not Kíli who answered. At first, Ofelia thought it was an echo, sending her unanswered cry back to her. But it was not. It was an equally desperate voice, one that did not belong to her or Kíli. A voice filled with pain and fear.

Ofelia shivered and began running again. This time, she followed the foreign voice. Whoever it was that was calling after the prince must have known where he was. Hopefully.

It was hard, running in the snow. Inevitably, she slipped and fell, her chin colliding with the ground. Inside her mouth, her teeth sank into her cheek and soon she could feel the unpleasant coppery taste of blood. 

 Ofelia hissed in pain. But there was no time for pain, no time to stumble or fall. Once more, she heard someone calling Kíli's name. Louder, this time. She was getting closer to it. Closer to him. It was enough to pull her back up. 

 In the fairy tales children were told, no one ever spoke about how unreal and slow everything felt whenever the hero was fighting. Nor would they speak about how distorted everything looked, including distances. 

Ofelia did not think she was the hero, not even close to that. She was a hobbit from the Shire. A short creature who lived on good food and a pretty garden. But when she stepped forward, the prince and a red-headed elf—Tauriel— entering her view, she felt so far away. She felt as if she would never be able to reach them, no matter how many miles she would run.

 Further down, Kíli and Tauriel fought side by side. It looked beautiful, Ofelia thought. Ironically beautiful. They moved so easily as if they had been made for that and that only. It looked as if they were dancing a dance that could cost them life.

One of the Orcs was creeping behind the prince, ready to strike. The little lady felt her heart pounding against her chest, yelling at her to do something, anything. But she would never be able to reach them in time.

“Kili!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping it would catch his attention. It did not. Although, her eyes locked with Tauriel’s green ones.

Ofelia had heard of the beauty of elves before leaving her beloved Shire. And she had witnessed it in Rivendell and when they had been held captive in Mirkwood, and again in Laketown when Kíli was ill. Tauriel was one of the most beautiful elves she had ever seen.

Quickly, she indicated the creature behind Kíli. Tauriel’s eyes followed the direction of her finger, and although Ofelia could not hear a single word, she was pretty sure that the elf had warned Kíli because he swiftly moved away.

 Caught into another frenzy, Ofelia rushed down the stone stairs, careful not to slip again. She was not so sure that she would survive it this time. 

Orcs were tall, way taller than her. It was easy to take down a goblin when it was almost her size. But this...It was monstrous. Next to it, Ofelia looked ridiculous. Yet, a spark of bravery shot through her body and she bolted towards it, burying her blade in its calf. She knew, deep inside, that it must have felt like a mosquito bite. Yet, she felt a certain pride when the Orc hissed.

 It did not last long because, in one swift movement of its leg, it sent her a few feet away. 

“Ofelia!”

The sound of his voice ringed in her ears and she looked up. Kíli was there, right in front of her. And she could not help but smile brightly at the sight of him.

“Kíli…” she breathed out. And like a toddler who craved their mother, she reached out for him, tried to pull him close to her. 

  But there was no place for love here. Before she could register what was happening, a greyish hand snaked around Kíli's throat and dragged him away from her. 

The prince looked worn out, exhausted. For how long had he been fighting before Ofelia had arrived? Was the blood on his face his or theirs? Tauriel, too, looked as if she had not been able to rest for centuries. Her breathing was erratic. They were not dancing anymore. They were dying. Both of them.

The Orc's blade was pressed against Kíli's chest, preparing itself to dive into the soft flesh.

She looked around for her own weapon. But the Gods were not on her side anymore, and she stared at the shining steel that laid at the Orc's feet. And she knew that the creature was aware of her helplessness when he gave her the coldest and cruelest smile.

“No!” she cried out, standing up to try and get her sword back. “No!”

The little lady did not have time to go too far when two slender, yet strong arms wrapped around her middle, keeping her on the ground. 

Tears began to run down her cheeks, bruising the soft skin. She tried to fight, tried to free herself from the strong grip.

“Ofelia!” Tauriel begged, struggling to keep her down.

Hobbits did not have the same eyesight as elves, nor could they hear the same thing they did. But when the blood-stained blade plunged into Kíli's body, she swore she had heard the sound of his skin being ripped in two. And although she was at a good distance from the prince, she saw his eyes turning completely black due to the pain, his pupils twitching disgustingly.

 Behind her, Tauriel sobbed. Ofelia felt the elf's nails digging into her skin. But all she could focus on was the tiny red droplets that glided down Kíli's body to crash onto the pure white snow. Immaculate.

Ofelia screamed. She screamed and it burned her throat, sucking all the air out of her lungs. She screamed until her jaw began to hurt and her voice broke into tiny sharp pieces that sliced through her heart. She screamed until Kíli's body hit the ground, his hair spread out beneath his head in a dark halo.

Death was not fascinating, nor was it intriguing. It was devastating. Although, Ofelia could not tear her eyes away from the prince. She watched as his chest rose and fell in a quick rhythm as he struggled to breathe. She could not look away from him, even when she saw the Orc coming closer from the corner of her eye. She could not look away either when Tauriel tightened her arms around her. 

For the second time this day, Ofelia thought she was about to die. And she wished to die looking at Kíli, son of Dís. But she would not die, not yet. Nor would Tauriel. 

The Orc—perhaps it had a name, Ofelia did not care—fell before them. A dagger was stuck in his skull, the handle pointing proudly towards the sky. It was dead.

Slowly and carefully, the short lady extricated herself from Tauriel’s protective embrace, and like a wounded animal, she crawled towards Kíli. She ignored the voices behind her to listen to his breathing.

“Oh, Kíli…” she whispered, her hand cupping his cheek delicately. 

The young heir grabbed her wrist, his fingers shaking. The pained moaned he let out broke her heart a bit more. Without help, he would die. Without help, she would lose him.

Ofelia turned around sharply, her eyes falling onto Tauriel and another elf, one with blond hair.

“Help him,” she ordered, her voice sore from the screaming. None of them replied. They gave her the look. The one that meant there was nothing left to do. Angrily, she pointed a finger at Tauriel. “You healed him once! In Laketown. Do it again! Do it again!”

“Ofelia…”

It was lower than a whisper, barely audible. And maybe Ofelia had imagined it. Maybe she had imagined all of it. She hoped so.

Kíli moaned again, louder this time. And perhaps she acted on impulse again. Perhaps her decision would be his ending. But at least, she would have tried. Ofelia decided that Kíli would not die, not yet.

Determination painted on her face, Ofelia stood up and pulled Kíli to his feet. He screamed in pain, hurting her ears.

“What are you doing?” Tauriel asked. “You’ll hurt him even more!”

It was true. Kíli was in pain and Ofelia could not even imagine how he must have been feeling at this moment. But she ignored his crying, and she ignored their looks. The little hobbit lady began to walk away, supporting the dwarven prince as best as she could.

“Kíli needs help or else he will die,” she explained, droplets of sweat already beginning to prickle on her forehead. She looked back at them one last time and pronounced the same words that Kíli’s own brother had used the first time he had been about to die:

“I will carry him if I must.”