#okay that's all my old doodles of them all dumped now i can draw new stuff !!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

accioxreparo · 4 years

Photo

ink stains

synopsis: soulmate au in which every mark that appears on your body also appears on your soulmate’s body including, as you discover one day, drawings. Needless to say you’re determined to make your soulmate smile, even if you haven’t found them yet.

pairing: George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Hi I’m late to the party but @thoseofgreatambition is doing a soulmate theme night and I’m a ho for soumate au’s so hopefully mine is decent enough lol also I may or may not be writing one for fred too but it’s taking me ages so

tagging: @the-hufflepuff-of-221b

~~~~~~

When you were six years old you woke up one morning to dark stains splattered all over your face and arms. You were confused and quickly grew panicked, absolutely positive that you had contracted Dragon Pox overnight. It had taken an hour for your dad to calm you down enough so he could explain with a small grin that your soulmate must’ve spilled an inkwell on themselves.

“What do you mean?” You had asked with wide, curious eyes.

“Well,” Your dad had reached for the bedside table and picked up a quil. “Everybody has a soulmate, Y/N. One day you start being able to see the marks that appear on your soulmate's body, permanent or temporary. For you, that day happens to be today.” He dipped the quil in a well filled with bright blue ink and handed it to you. “Why don’t you give it a try? Write your soulmate a message.”

“What if they don’t write back?” You had frowned then, suddenly worrying that maybe this mystery person on the other end would want nothing to do with you.

“Well that’s okay,” Your dad had been quick to reassure you. “They might not be able to see the marks yet. But one day they will and I just know they’ll be ecstatic to know you’re here.”

After that day there was a constant stream of doodles all over you. Vines snaking up your ankle. Twisting patterns winding around your fingers. Planets and stars littering your collarbone area. Stripes of random colors all over your palms as you mixed new colors. The most detailed pictures were always on your left arm though, that was where you practiced new drawings.

Occasionally you wrote a message but mostly you drew. Then one day you bought a book about charms to cast on drawings in Flourish and Blotts and you begged your dad every chance you got to cast them for you. After that at least a few pictures were always moving up and down your body.

When you got your very own wand at the age of eleven they were the first spells you practiced. By the end of your first year at Hogwarts you had mastered the whole book. Since then there was always a constant supply of different colored inks in your bag and pockets. The array of multicolored moving pictures that changed every day was your one connection to your soulmate.

They had yet to write back.

It had been ages since you first found your connection to your soulmate. You’d dealt with scars and bruises and occasional scribbled reminders but never once had you ever received even an acknowledgment of anybody seeing your drawings.

You tried not to let it bother you, you really did. But it seemed like every single person around you had known their soulmate for years, in one way or another. Some days the smile you wore wasn’t quite genuine, the longing you felt growing a little deeper at times, but never once did you fail to decorate your limbs with gentle reminders that you were there for your soulmate to find on themselves.

Not until that day. You were set to leave for school the next morning and your father had taken the week off of work to see you off. The two of you, your older brother, and your younger sister were probably too focused on the quidditch match you had going against each other in the backyard of your house. So much so that the bludger hit your way completely blindsided you.

The match ended with panicked shouts, a trip to St. Mungos, and your left arm wrapped tightly in cloth bandages as it rested in a sling while your bones healed.

It was only when you were sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express that the strangest thing happened. Words scrawled in letters that weren’t your own had appeared on your right arm.

Nothing new today?

As you stared at the writing with wide eyes, more words appeared underneath those.

I’m sure this is bending the rules but I had to know. Something’s wrong isn’t it?

Frantically you dumped out the contents of your bag, scattering them all over the floor of the compartment. You dug around the mess you had made until you found a self-inking quil. Just as you were about to write your response you caught sight of the bandages on your arm and gave a defeated sigh.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up and saw Luna, a friend of yours a couple years below you, watching you with an amused smile. The two of you would always sit up late in the common room together, swapping theories and stories about anything and everything.

“If you don’t mind,” You gave her a sheepish look and she only smiled before moving to sit next to you.

“What would you like me to write?” Luna asked as she took the quil out of your hand. You smiled and told her, watching as she took your arm and wrote out your words for you.

What makes you think something is wrong?

It was seconds later when you received your response.

Not once in the six years since I’ve been able to see your drawings have you let a day pass where you don’t add new ones. What’s wrong?

A smile graced your face and Luna was kind enough to help you continue the conversation happening on your arm.

I’m fine. Just a Quidditch injury. I’ll have the bandages removed by tonight, don’t worry.

Take your time. I don’t want you to hurt longer than you have to, love.

You were sure it was cheating, talking to your soulmate by writing messages on your arm. But if whatever soulmate forces were out there didn’t want you to talk to them then there shouldn’t have been such a simple loophole.

That’s what comforted you late that night, now gently scrawling messy words quickly on your arm that had been broken only the day before. Never before had you been more thankful for Skele-Gro.

Can I ask you something?

The print you wrote with was small on purpose, trying to keep as much room available as possible. It didn’t stop you, however, from doodling new little pictures on the back of your hand.

Go for it.

Why haven’t you ever said anything before? Why now?

You stared at the words you had written for a few moments before sighing and heading to the bathroom that was connected to your room. Only after staring at the words covering both arms now for a minute or two did you start washing away the ink you had put there.

For a minute you thought that you shouldn’t have asked. You stood in silence, watching as the remainder of the ink, the part written in your soulmates handwriting, was slowly washed away leaving only faint ink stains. Then to your relief a response came after it was all gone.

I was worried. And let’s just say I’m not as artistic as you are, my talents lie in other places.

For a second the writing stopped but then more words appeared, quicker than they had before.

Also I may have missed seeing you draw new pictures for me a little too much.

You beamed at the words and walked back to your bed. After the curtains were pulled around it you lit the end of your wand and picked up your quil again.

Do you like them? The pictures.

The response was almost immediate.

I love them.

***

“Miss Y/L/N.”

You jumped in your seat at the sound of a voice calling your name. Slowly you looked up from where you were taking notes on nonverbal spells. Professor Flitwick stood only a few feet away with an exasperated look on his face. Meanwhile both of the Weasley twins sat at their desk looking quite satisfied with whatever they had just done.

You’d been correct to assume they were behind whatever loud noise had been going on only minutes before. The desk the twins were sitting at was now charred and the other Gryffindors surrounding them were chatting excitedly about whatever it was you missed while your nose was buried in your charms book.

Neither Fred or George Weasley missed the fact that you were trying and failing to keep back an amused smile.

“You’ll be getting a new partner to do your project with,” Professor Flitwick lifted his wand and with a single flick a bag and a pile of unused textbooks was flying across the room and into the empty space next to you. “Mr. Weasley.”

Both boys stood at the same time wearing matching smirks and chorused, “Yes, Professor?”

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle your laugh when Professor Flitwick sighed and shook his head upon realizing that he really should have seen that coming. “Mr. George Weasley. Come meet your new partner.”

Oddly enough said person didn’t look disappointed by the new assignment at all. Instead he grinned as he approached you, sliding into the chair beside you easily.

You could count the number of times you had spoken to George Weasley on one hand. The first time had been during potions when he’d asked to borrow some foxglove for a pompion potion. It wasn’t the potion you’d been assigned to brew but you hadn’t questioned it. The second time he’d walked up to you and your friends after a quidditch match to congratulate Ravenclaw on their victory against Slytherin despite the fact that none of you were on the team. And the third time was only a few weeks before when he asked to borrow a spare quil in transfiguration.

You doubted he remembered any of that though.

“So partner,” George leaned on the desk, head resting on one of his hands as he looked at you. “What do you know about,” He reached over to look at the piece of parchment you’d been taking your notes on. “Nonverbal spells? That’s our topic?”

“It is,” You nodded and reached for your notes, hoping he wouldn’t flip over the parchment to see the drawings you’d absentmindedly doodled during the lecture. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” George’s smile turned softer then as he stared at you, a fact which you noticed. You turned away quickly as you felt your face burn, hoping silently that it wasn’t too noticeable. “On the contrary. From what I hear you’ve already mastered a few nonverbal spells yourself Y/N, dearest.”

You froze then, not sure which revelation surprised you more. The fact that apparently you had developed a reputation without you knowing or the fact that George Weasley of all people knew your name.

You tried your hardest to fight the temptation to ask how he knew you and why.

“Class is almost over,” Your words came out rushed and a little too loud to sound natural. It wasn’t a complete lie. In just ten minutes you’d all be dismissed and that was hardly enough time to make even a small dent into your project. “We should meet sometime before our next class to get started if we want to have it done by the due date.”

“You’re so...ravenclaw,” George spoke after a few moments. When you looked at him again he was still giving you that same soft smile, a different sort of glint in his eyes than the one you were used to seeing every now and then.

For a second your thoughts drifted to the words scrawled on your right arm and the pictures on your left. They were covered up by the sleeves of your sweater as they usually were but you could picture the words you and your soulmate had written to each other earlier that day clearly.

“Is that a bad thing?” You found yourself asking, for some strange reason not being able to bring yourself to pull away from George’s gaze.

“No,” He shook his head gently almost immediately. “It’s perfect.”

***

You had to give credit where credit was due. When it came down to it, George Weasley could in fact step up to the plate.

Even now, an early Sunday morning the day after a trip to Hogsmeade, he sat right in front of you.

You knew for a fact he had been up late the previous night causing his usual mischief alongside his brother. One of the Ravenclaw prefects had been patrolling the halls and you overheard him complaining about having to send the twins back to their dorm for the fourth day in a row when he entered the common room.

It had made you smile.

You’d spent at least a couple hours each day alongside George for the past two and a half weeks. Some of that time had indeed been spent on your project but you found it easier to talk to him than you thought it would be. You couldn’t even begin to count the variety of tales he told you just to hear you laugh.

That, however, meant that the two of you had developed a tendency to avoid your work resulting in you being behind. The next day the two of you would have to present in front of the class. You had already gotten away with postponing the presentation twice.

The first time you had told Professor Flitwick that you needed more time to gather as much information as the topic deserved. The second time George had eaten one of the products he had told you he was working on, one he called a nosebleed nougat. It had worked like a charm and the moment you left the classroom with him he ate another candy and it stopped.

It was the only reason the two of you had woken up at that godforsaken hour of the morning on a Sunday. There was simply no other option now.

“I think all of our research is done and I can write up some notes for us to remember during the presentation,” You reached for another roll of parchment from your bag to do just that before dipping your quil in an inkwell filled with bright blue ink. “But we still need to practice some nonverbal spells for the practical demonstration. What do you think we should -”

It wasn’t until you looked away from the pile of books in front of you and at George that you realized he had dozed off. His head was resting on his arms which were crossed on the desk in front of him and he looked almost peaceful for once.

The corner of a piece of parchment was sticking out from under one of his arms and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly you leaned forward until you could reach the parchment and you began to sketch a field of flowers on the paper in various ink colors.

You didn’t notice your own smile as you did so.

Then the end of your quil brushed across George’s face and he almost immediately bolted up in his seat. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes once more he looked over only to find you biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“You look suspicious,” George narrowed his eyes at you playfully when he saw the look on your face, still not noticing the addition to his parchment.

“Do I?” You smiled then as you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms in front of you.

“You do,” He leaned forward on the desk again and the grin you’d come to see on a regular basis returned. “May I ask why?”

“No reason at all. I’m just excited to learn some nonverbal spells is all,” You laughed as you stood from your seat, squinting a little at the late morning sun shining through the windows. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go search for some books a friend of mine recommended with some spells we could use.”

“Do we not have enough of those here?” George said as he glanced at the pile of no less than seven books, none of which he could remember anything about.

“Those are all on history and theory. We need something on practical application.”

“Right,” George let out a sigh as he reached for one of the unopened books. “You’re lucky I like you. I can’t remember the last time I did this much reading for a project.”

You hummed and then shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Don’t I feel honored.”

“Just get on with it,” George glanced up from the pages of the book he’d been flipping through and at you again, this time with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Faster we finish with this, the sooner we can sneak into the kitchens for a late breakfast.”

You were quick to agree. George watched as you disappeared behind one of the bookshelves. It was only when he was sure you were gone that he rolled up the sleeve of his sweater and reached for a quil, quickly scribbling a message to his soulmate on his right arm.

When he was done writing the message he caught sight of the flowers that you had drawn on the corner of his parchment and he grinned. Almost absentmindedly he started drawing flowers around your own, albeit a little simpler than the designs you had made. It took a minute for his eyes to widen, quil falling out of his hand, realizing that the flowers you had drawn on the paper he had already seen dozens of times before. In fact, a variation of them sat on his left arm now.

***

Finally four hours later you and George sat in the kitchens which you’d found surprisingly empty. Breakfast and lunch had come and gone and the two of you had gladly accepted a variety of foods from a couple of the house elves.

You were completely oblivious to the way George was studying you closely, trying as hard as he could to see if he was right.

“Puddlemere United,” He said when he caught sight of the patch sewn onto the jacket you were wearing. “I take it you’re a fan?”

“I sort of have to be,” You laughed a little when you saw the confused look flash on George’s face. “My dad is Puddlemere’s captain.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, promise,” You smiled as you shook your head. Without hesitation you pulled off your jacket, flipping it around so the back was visible, and pointed to a navy blue crest with the Puddlemere United logo and the word ‘captain’ across it in bold, golden letters. “Has been for a few years now and here’s your proof.”

But when you looked at George he wasn’t looking at the jacket at all. Instead he was staring at the variety of words and pictures covering your arms. You could see his eyes darting back and forth and quickly pulled your arm away and under the table.

“Wait,” He reached across the table and took your hand in his, slowly turning your arm around so he could see all every single stroke of ink. You could only watch as he gently traced the designs with his free hand.

The moment was soft, intimate in the purest way. You swore you could hear your own heart thumping louder each second that passed. It reached its peak when George placed your arm on the table in front of the two of you only to pull off the sweater he’d been wearing. It was then that the breath you were holding in left you.

Every single ink stain on your arms was perfectly reflected on his. Now that you looked closer you wondered how you hadn’t recognized his handwriting right away, you’d spent the last few months writing back and forth after all. You’d been so focused on the drawings and the writing that you hadn’t noticed what, or rather who was right in front of you.

“I knew it was you, you know.”

Your laugh was light when you finally dared to look at George once more. He was looking at you with pure and utter adoration and you were positive you wore the same expression. “Did you now?”

“I did,” George grinned as he took your hand again, more confident than he had previously been. “Remember our first year when I asked you for that foxglove? I was supposed to nick it from one of the shelves but you had your sleeves rolled up and I swore I saw the edge of the stars you had drawn earlier that day. I went to get a closer look but they were covered again.”

“And I suppose it was the same thing in transfiguration a month ago?” You shook your head with an amused smile as you thought back to the encounter. It all seemed so obvious now.

“It was. Same thing with the quidditch match a few years ago too,” He leaned forward as if what he were about to tell you were a secret. Suddenly it was like he couldn’t let you go, not that he’d ever want to now that he’d finally found you. “What made me almost certain though was the little drawing you left on my parchment earlier. I knew I’d seen those before.”

“Well I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve kept your eyes open unlike me apparently,” You were beaming as you glanced down at the matching pictures present on both of you. “What do we do now?”

“I’m glad you asked,” George immediately stood, pulling you up with him. He grabbed hold of your jacket still sitting on the table and started pulling you out of the kitchens. “Now that we’ve found each other we’re going to make up for lost time.”

“By doing what exactly?” You asked, eyebrows raised questioningly and a slight smirk on your face.

“Head out of the gutter, love,” George laughed as the two of you walked back up the stairs still hand in hand. He looked down at you with a wild grin on his face. “We’re going on our first date if you’re up for it.”

You agreed instantly and happily followed to wherever it was George would take you, just as you knew you always would from that moment on.

#the ending is eh but i love soulmates #hp fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x y/n #soulmate au #george weasley fanfiction #c: george weasley #my stuff #my fics

2K notes · View notes

corpsentry · 4 years

Text

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

#my stuff

205 notes · View notes

malecsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, facialteeth!

For @facialteeth <3

When your soulmate loses something it gets sent to you and vice versa. For almost 400 years Magnus thought he would never have a soulmate until one day a pacifier shows up in his loft.

Read On AO3

*****

Who Are You Really?

Magnus stares at the pacifier in his hand. He doesn’t recall anyone bringing a baby to his loft recently. He doesn’t take in as many clients due to his position as High Warlock. He’s pretty sure he would remember a baby being in his home.

Thinking nothing of it, he sets it down on the side table in his living room and goes back to work. The Circle may be disbanding and shadowhunters are getting arrested, but there are still attacks happening in New York and the Institute has asked for his help in tracking the remaining Circle members.

Magnus snorts at his own phrasing. The Institute more so demanded that he help them. He of course made sure to set his price high for what he expected in return. The new Heads weren’t going to make him bend the knee to their every request. He was going to make life extremely difficult for the Lightwoods. They may have been forgiven by the Clave, but Magnus will never forget what they did.

Without looking up from his cauldron, he reaches for an ingredient on his shelf, and instead of touching the vial he knows is there, a soft fabric brushes his hands. He whips his head up from the cauldron and stares at the blanket draped over the shelf. Not just any blanket, a child’s blanket- no an infant’s blanket.

Magnus stares at the cloth for so long that his brewing potion is now ruined. He doesn’t care though, not when there’s something more important to focus on. With a shaky breath and hand, he grasps the blanket. It’s so incredibly soft in his hands, the fabric is perfectly suitable for a baby. Not just any baby though Magnus realizes, his soulmate’s. His soulmate must have just turned two, when most soulmates start to receive their partner’s lost items.

A sob escapes his lips and he presses the blanket to his face.

Four hundred years, it took four hundred years for his soulmate to be born. Magnus had lost hope such a long time ago of ever getting one. Each year that passed with nothing showing up around had him made him lose hope. And after everything Camile did to him, the manipulation, the gaslighting, stealing his items, and pretending that they were soulmates, Magnus swore to never open his heart again.

Now here is this pacifier and blanket in his loft, letting him know that love will not be lost to him. That there is someone out there that is made for him. He scrunches his face at that thought. His soulmate is a baby, he shouldn’t be thinking like that, not yet. He still has many years to go, but Magnus will gladly wait as long as it takes to meet them.

“Oh god my soulmate is a baby and I’m a warlock,” he says out loud to no one. He glances in horror at the state of his apothecary. Everything is everywhere, the minute he forgets one thing it’s going to teleport to a baby.

Potion forgotten, Magnus starts to clean his apothecary with precision, making sure that everything is labeled and in a proper place that is easy to find. The last thing he needs is to kill a baby, let alone his soulmate.

“You better not die because of me,” he demands, glaring at the pacifier and blanket now resting in a case in his bedroom.

The first six years are filled with anxiety on Magnus’ end. His friends made fun of him at first, thinking he had finally gone mad. When he showed them the items, they rightly shut up and even occasionally helped him if he was looking for something for a potion. None of them wanting to be responsible for the death of his soulmate. This is the happiest they have seen him in a long time, if it means portaling at ungodly hours of the night to help him find something before it disappears then so be it.

Magnus did have fun “accidentally” losing toys for his soulmate to have and play with. He has no idea if his soulmate actually uses anything that he finds, he hopes that he does. While Magnus is sure that his soulmate’s parents spoiled their child to no end, Magnus was never one to not spoil someone important to him.

Somehow Magnus knew that the exciting thrill was never going to last. His soulmate would be eight now. He glances at the calendar on the wall, a big red circle around September 12th. Magnus had made sure to mark the date after he got a hold of his emotions all those years ago.

He’s debating on what to send an eight year old child on their birthday. He’s been good about getting gender neutral toys for his soulmate, not knowing if they are a boy or girl. He’s going through a catalog on his phone when he spots a piece of paper on the coffee table. It's flipped upside down but Magnus can see some dark ink on the other side of the paper.

His soulmate must be doodling or drawing and forgotten something they made for their birthday. Magnus reaches out and grabs the paper flipping it over to inspect the drawing.

The paper bursts into flames by his magic.

No that- that can’t be right. Magnus just saw the paper wrong, he must have. There’s no possible way that was what he thought it was. He gets a second chance to see when another paper appears on his coffee table. He feels himself starting to fall apart as he reaches for the sheet and flips it over. He recognizes the marking anywhere.

Iratze

The paper once again catches fire from his barely contained magic. Magnus feels his throat tighten and his breath getting shorter. Shadowhunter. His soulmate is a shadowhunter, his mind provides. He feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him. Of all the people living on this earth, his soulmate had to be of the people who have hunted and killed his kind for hundreds of years.

Magnus barks out a wet laugh, immediately summoning a drink from his cart and downing it in one go. The glass is already refilled as he watches more papers appear on the table, more runes scribble on them. He doesn’t know how many times he refills his glass, but he got the desired effect he wanted: numbness.

He doesn’t know how long he’s stared at those papers, drinking his pain away. He can barely sit up at this point with the alcohol flowing through his system. He can’t remember the last time he got this drunk. He’s been better since Camille, not wanting to go that far again. He hears the door to his loft open. Was he expecting guests? He doesn’t remember, doesn’t care. The intruder could rob him for all he cared.

“Well you look awfully dreadful,” a familiar British voice says. “Is this why you’ve been ignoring my calls and I had to take the long way in?”

“Ragnor,” Magnus slurs, he tilts his head towards his friend. The small movement makes him nauseous, it takes everything in not to immediately stumble to the bathroom to throw up.

“What is it this time?” His friend sighs dramatically. Ragnor glances around the room, glaring at something out of his field of view. “Obviously something has upset you enough to drink almost your entire cart. Did Camille try and reach out to you?”

“No,” he says too quietly. He can already feel the emotions he’s tried to lock down start to bubble up. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Ragnor, his friend doesn’t need to worry about him. The man always has more important things to deal with than him. Still, his arm has a mind of its own and points to the coffee table.

“What, you were studying runes and decided that getting drunk would be easier?” Oh, he truly loves Ragnor, the old fool knows how to make him laugh even at his lowest of lows.

“Not mine,” he manages to get out before tears start to fall.

“Oh, old friend,” Ragnor whispers. He’s happy that he doesn’t have to explain more, his friend understanding what the papers mean.

The couch dips beside him and an arm wraps around his shoulders. Magnus doesn’t even try to resist, he’s just so tired. He rests his head on Ragnor’s shoulder and cries. Damn the universe for dealing him this deck of cards.

As his soulmate grows older, the less stuff they seem to misplace. Magnus would find it strange that he’s practically getting nothing, but at this point, he doesn’t care what the shadowhunter does with their life.

He does, though, care about the number of arrows he’s been finding in his loft.

Magnus glares at the vase he designated for arrow disposal and sees that it’s full. He has five more wrapped in a cloth in his hands. With a sigh he snaps his fingers and summons another vase, tossing them in. He doesn’t know why he’s keeping them, there’s really no point except to dump them at the Shadowhunter’s feet when they meet. Maybe even throw a few at them, he considers.

There’s nothing on them so he figures that the shadowhunter is training. Though Magnus almost shudders at the thought that a child is already practicing how to use a weapon. His soulmate is only ten years old, surely Nephilim society would wait until their children are at least thirteen before making them train for hunting.

“Stupid Nephilim, not keeping track of his arrows,” Magnus grumbles. “That’s almost thirty arrows in the past two months! I would like to think that a shadowhunter would at least know how to put arrows away after training and not leave them everywhere.”

“Do go easy on them, Magnus,” Ragnor snorts from the other room. “It’s not like they had a choice in what family and life they were born into.”

“They still have the option to run away,” he grumbles, knowing he’s being irrational.

“Surely you don’t want them to be homeless at ten years old?” Ragnor says, entering the room with two cocktails, handing one off to Magnus before plopping down on a chair.

“Maybe,” Magnus whispers, he looks over at his friend and sees the raised brow. He rolls his eyes, “Okay I don’t, not really.”

Magnus knows he’s being unkind to his soulmate. But after everything in recent years with the Uprising and the Circle, it’s hard not to associate all shadowhunters into the same category especially when so many members of the Circle turned tail and came crawling back to the Clave. And the Clave willingly brought them back into their ranks with a slap on the wrist. Magnus rolls his eyes at the thought of Robert and Maryse Lightwood being allowed to look over the New York Institute as their punishment. Those two should have been put behind bars for all that they did for the Circle.

“Don’t you think you are being a bit dramatic?” Ragnor asks as Magnus takes the seat across from him.

“Me? Dramatic? Hardly, my dear Cabbage,” he says dramatically, hand on his heart.

“Right,” Ragnor snorts. “Just a gentle reminder that you are getting upset at a child for being born into a life he had no power over just like you with Asmo-”

“Don’t,” Magnus snaps, his glamor flickering for a moment. “Don’t ever compare my upbringing to that of a shadowhunter.”

Ragnor doesn’t say anything else which he kinda feels bad about. His friend also knows better than to talk about his father in such a casual way. The two fall into a tense silence as they go through the books scattered on the table. He sighs, glancing over at the two vases of arrows that he’s put in his library. Ragnor is probably right, but he’s not going to tell that to the old fool’s face.

Magnus will apologize later, right now he wants to focus on the spell they’re working on and not about the shadowhunter.

The day they do meet is not by fate, no, more so Clarissa Fairchild, who Magnus had almost forgotten about. It’s been a couple of years since her mother brought the frightened child to his doorsteps to wipe her memories. Seems the girl has fallen into shadowhunter hands after her mother goes missing. He wouldn’t put it past the rogue Circle members that were in his club a few nights ago to be the reason.

As he examines the ruby necklace, a memento of another time in his life, a shout echoes across the basement and something whistles past his ear. Turning around he sees a Circle member fall to the ground dead with an arrow to the heart.

Magnus feels his own heart stop as he turns to watch the archer descend the staircase and make his way to the corpse, to search for life. Magnus feels his skin turn warm and start to tingle, like a lego piece snapping into place. A whisper of a no slips past his lips. The shadowhunter must feel the same as he stands from checking the body he stands straight. Hazel meets brown as the man, the shadowhunter, stares at him in shock.

It’s him.

Magnus doesn’t wait for the man to reach him. He summons a portal, ignoring Clary’s cry to wait, and steps back into his loft. His breathing is erratic and it feels like his heart is about to explode.

His soulmate is here, in New York. What is Magnus going to do? He can’t leave his post as High Warlock, not with Circle members making a reappearance. His people need him to protect them. Over the blood pulsing in his ears, he hears a cry, immediately snapping him out of his thoughts. Reaching out with his magic he feels that his hideout has been infiltrated. Dammit, he shouldn’t have left this place for that girl.

Magnus can worry about the ache in his chest later, his people need his help.

He doesn’t even wait for the Circle members to notice him, magic blasts out of his hands attacking any person who dares to enter this safe haven. When he finds out who leaked the location, he’s going to ban them from New York. He doesn’t have use for someone who would rat out his own people.

“Your magic is strong, warlock,” the Circle member taunts. “Much stronger than that horned warlock I killed this morning.”

“Elias,” he says solemnly. He throws a ball of fire at the man who easily dodges it. They circle around each other, the man’s grin never leaving.

“So that was his name, lucky he sold you out before I took his warlock mark,” the man laughs.

Magnus knows he shouldn’t let his anger get the best of him, but he still finds himself lashing out at the Circle member, trying to disarm him. The man's grin turns even more sinister and something in his stomach tightens.

“Cats eyes,” he points out. Magnus didn’t even realize his glamor had dropped. “Would be a nice addition to my collection.”

Before Magnus can reply an arrow sings past him and lands in the man’s leg making him stumble. Magnus doesn’t wait for him to recover and deals a finishing blow. The Circle member collapses on the fallen bookshelf and Magnus feels like he’s frozen. That feeling in his stomach wasn’t from the Circle member, it was from him.

Magnus spins and sees the same shadowhunter from the club stand there, bow still raised, panic in his eyes. The man releases a breath and lowers his bow, eyes rake over the Circle member’s body before turning to Magnus. Magnus steps back, magic sparking at his hands ready to fight.

The man opens and closes his mouth, trying to say something but nothing comes out. His eyes show only concern and worry, but that can’t be right, no shadowhunter would ever look at him like that. He glances at Magnus’ hands and the look disappears to something more neutral, closed off but not before Magnus catches a glimpse of pain.

“Alec!” A male voice shouts from down the hall, Alec glances behind him taking his eyes off of Magnus. The man must have a death wish for taking his eyes off of him. Magnus could easily take him out now, but his body won’t let him. “That’s the last of them.”

The shadowhunter, or Alec, nods his head and turns towards Magnus again, “We should go join the others.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Shadowhunter,” he bites back, hoping to get a reaction out of the man, but Alec doesn’t even flinch, just nods his head again.

“Apologies,” Alec says, turning around and leaving the library but halts, looking at something on his left. Magnus follows his gaze and realizes he’s looking at the multiple vases of arrows he’s kept over the years. Alec’s face stays blank but the grip on his bow tightens before he continues his way out of the living room.

Strange, Magnus thinks. He thought the shadowhunter would have demanded Magnus listen to him or even drag him to where everyone else is. Instead he’s letting Magnus choose to go with him, giving him the option to run tail if he wanted.

Of course, Magnus won’t do that, he realizes with a sigh. He doesn’t know how many of his people made it out alive, all of them probably scattering the second the Circle members entered the hideout. He’ll need to notify friends and any families of the fallen here.

With a wave of his hand, Magnus rids the loft of any dead circle members and teleports their bodies to the ocean. Let the sharks have their fun with them, he doesn’t care. In another wave, he teleports the bodies of the fallen warlocks to another safe haven he has in New York and a fire message to Catarina about what happened and where she needs to go.

When Magnus enters his living room he catches Alec with his head down and a girl with long dark hair rubbing a hand up and down his arm looking at him with concern. Something in his chest aches and presses a hand to his heart. Is that what Alec is feeling? He hates it. He doesn’t want to feel what the shadowhunter is feeling.

He must be projecting his emotions because Alec flinches, pressing a hand to his chest and looks up at him. Again the pain that he sees disappears by that blank look. The girl catches Alec’s change and looks over at him and sends Magnus the most heated glare he’s ever received.

He doesn’t have time to deal with that. He puts on his High Warlock persona and makes a show of his magic. Clary, to no surprise, is as stubborn as her mother and refuses to leave without getting her memories back. So he tells them what they all have to do to get them back. None of them argue to his surprise, though the blonde boy tries but is stopped by Alec with a hand on the shoulder.

The summoning goes off without a problem. All of the shadowhunters listen to his explanation of how the ritual works and that they must not let go of each other’s hands. When Magnus explains that they must hold hands, the sister, Isabelle, moves into a position that forces Alec and him to hold hands. Magnus tries not to let his frustration show and accepts the positions.

The second he and Alec’s hands touch, it’s like the final piece of their connection is sealed. He hears Alec let out a gasp and the hand in his grips tight before loosening. Magnus looks at Alec and the shadowhunter is not even glancing at him, he continues to stare at the wall opposite of him. Magnus feels an incredible sorrow fill his chest that makes him want to curl up and cry.

Alec shows no outward sign of what he’s really feeling and something pokes at his heart that this is not the first time that Alec has had to mask his emotions. He shakes off the feeling, looking away from Alec to see everyone else staring at him waiting, though Isabelle is still glaring at him.

The demon asks for a memory of the ones they love the most. Of course, his is Ragnor, his oldest and closest friend. Jace, who he finds out is Alec’s parabatai, and Isabelle’s are of Alec, which warms his heart or well maybe not his, he looks over at Alec and sees the soft smile on his face as the shadowhunter sees himself reflected in the tornado of smoke in the center. He doesn’t even catch what Clary’s memory was, too enraptured by the kindness shining in his soulmate’s eyes.

When the summoning is over, Clary collapses and is caught by Jace. He scoops the unconscious girl and leads her out of the loft with Isabelle, a quiet thanks as they pass him, leaving Alec and Magnus alone in the room. Alec hasn’t looked up from his hands since they let go, rubbing the hand that was entwined with his.

“Thank you for helping us,” Alec speaks softly.

“I didn’t do it for you,” he says.

“I know.” Alec finally looks up from his hands and there’s a small smile on his face. “I’ll let you be. Have a good night, Magnus.”

The shadowhunter doesn’t wait for his response and rushes out the room to catch up with his family leaving Magnus alone.

Alone.

Something that Magnus has been used to for decades now. His heart had been protected under a lock and key for so long and then Alec, this shadowhunter, his soulmate had to barge in and rip the lock off the cage.

Magnus doesn’t want to feel like this. He liked it better when he was alone and didn’t have a soulmate, when he didn’t feel this much in his chest. The people he knows who have met their soulmates have told him about how they felt butterflies the first time they met their other half. That it felt like they were whole for the first time. Magnus doesn’t feel whole, he feels rage at the universe for giving him a shadowhunter as his soulmate.

Magnus doesn’t care how kind Alec may or may not be.

He will never fall in love with a shadowhunter.

Of course, that wouldn’t be the last time he saw Alec. He made it clear that he was not interested in getting to know the shadowhunter and thankfully Alec respected that. Again throwing Magnus off about his view of shadowhunters.

Now Jace definitely fits that shadowhunter personality. Brash, rude, demanding, following red heads around like a lost puppy. Magnus rolls his eyes as the blonde’s gaze never leaves Clary’s as she word vomits in his living room fretting over Luke. Luke, who is in the state he’s in because of Clary, and Simon who couldn’t listen to simple orders.

One would think that the girl would take her time to recover after getting all of her memories back. It seems that when she discovered the location of the cup, she snuck out of the Institute and met up with Sherman only to get kidnapped which led to a fight between a Beta and an Alpha werewolf which led to a new leader to the New York pack and-

Lilith, Magnus needs a drink.

He sends Simon and Jace off to fetch ingredients for him to help with the potion that would save Luke. Which leaves him and Clary to wait for them to return. Magnus focuses on the potion to make sure it doesn’t turn sour.

“So,” Clary says. “You and Alec, huh?”

Magnus almost drops a vial in the cauldron. “I beg your pardon?”

“You two are soulmates right?”

“And what gave you that idea?” He grits.

“The stuff in Alec’s room,” she shrugs, wandering around the apothecary. “He has a whole bookshelf full of trinkets and vials exactly like the ones in here.” Clary pokes at the vials on his shelves, he almost snaps at her to stop. “It’s really incredible, you can tell he took great care of them all.”

“Is that so?”

Clary nods, smiling as she picks up a vial off his table, inspecting it. “Yeah, he got really upset with me when I tried to pick up one of the items. Even went as far to wipe my finger prints off the thing. You can easily tell they’re his greatest treasure.” Clary’s smile turns to a frown. “Though last time I went to talk to him, he had put a bed sheet over the shelf.”

Oh. That information does something to his heart, like something has a vice grip around it now. Magnus shakes his head, clearing himself of the feeling, and goes back to the potion.

“Maybe he’s upset that he realized I’m a warlock,” he snorts.

“No, that wasn’t it. When I first saw it, he had this soft, delighted smile on his face. He had said that he hadn’t met the warlock who was his soulmate yet, but that he was eager to meet them. Said that he hoped his runes wouldn’t scare you away and that he could prove that he would care for you the way he cared for the items he got from you through your connection.”

The vial that was in his hand drops to the table. Clary jumps at the sudden sound and turns to him in surprise.

Surely Alec didn’t think that way about him. He was an abomination with demon blood, Alec was a shadowhunter with angel blood. There’s no possible way they would work and yet, Alec knew his soulmate was a warlock before he even laid eyes on Magnus. Had a bookshelf full of the items he had lost over the years.

“Why?” He mutters quietly. “He’s a shadowhunter whose soulmate is a warlock. We’re not exactly the perfect match.”

“Why should that matter?” Clary asks. “It is clear that Alec doesn’t care that you’re a warlock. His mother is a different story though.” Clary rubs her arms up and down her arms like a shiver passed through her. The accurate reaction when talking about that woman. “I don’t understand how he just stands there while she speaks to him like that.”

“Like what?” His mouth feels dry, the blank face from a few days ago makes sense now. With a mother like Maryse Lightwood, finding out your son has a warlock soulmate probably didn’t go over well. He’s positive that Alec’s other siblings didn’t get that treatment, especially Clary and Jace who discovered they were soulmates.

“Like he’s inferior for having a warlock as a soulmate. The first thing she did when she stopped by his room was berate him for still having that bookshelf, like he should be ashamed of himself for displaying who his soulmate was so openly and that she thought she told him to toss out anything that wasn’t useful.”

Magnus feels like there’s no air in the room. He leans forward on the table and stares into the bubbling concoction.

With each new thing he learns about Alec, the less his view of him is so harsh.

“That’s when he had covered the bookshelf,” Clary whispers, biting her lip. “Ever since their mother came back to the Institute that spark in Alec’s eye is gone.”

“Maryse does have the personality of a brick,” he chimes in hoping to lighten the mood.

Clary doesn’t take the bait and instead looks at him with sympathy. “I don’t remember much about when we came here last, my memories are still a bit jumbled, but I know that when I woke up, no one knew where Alec went. Jace said to let it go, that he gets that way sometimes, but I couldn’t help feeling like something wasn’t right. When I found him he was on the roof, shooting arrows, one after the other until his hands were bleeding.”

“Why are you telling me this,” he rasps. His heart is beating out of control. Was Alec that hurt by his rejection? He was a shadowhunter, he should be relieved that his warlock of a soulmate doesn’t want to be with him. It wasn’t like Magnus would be upset if Alec left. Something about that thought makes his heart stop.

“Because you both deserve happiness,” she says. “And I think Alec at least deserves a chance before you kick him to the curb.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to say to that. What could he say to that? For centuries he’s kept away from shadowhunters as much as possible and now he was fatefully connected to one. Why should he be the one to make that step? It wasn’t like Alec was taking the first step.

That’s because you rejected him before he could, his mind unkindly reminds him.

Magnus doesn’t get the time to ask more questions about Alec as Luke starts to seizure on the couch. He tells Clary what still needs to be done with the potion as he rushes over to Luke and pour his magic into the werewolf’s body to slow the spread of the poison.

He loses track of time, just focusing on making sure that Luke makes it through this process. Just as he starts to feel his magic flicker, the door to his home bursts open and there’s a warm body catching him as he falls back.

Magnus huddles closer to the warmth, clasping his hand around the one that takes his.

“Use my strength,” a voice whispers in his ear. “Take what you need.”

Magnus doesn't waste a second, siphoning magic from the person behind him. It’s like being shot with adrenaline, the other person’s energy practically shoving its way into his body. It’s definitely a first for him. Anytime Magnus has asked to share strength with someone, there is always a tug from the other person, not fully trusting Magnus to not abuse the power the other is giving him. Magnus feels no resistance from whoever he’s taking magic from. For someone to trust him that openly and blindly that they just give him their very essence brings tears to his eyes.

He’s going to have to thank whoever it is once he’s sure that Luke won’t die on him. Maybe even take them out to dinner as a thank you. As if they heard his thoughts, Jace and Simon rush through the living room and hand over the last ingredient to Clary who tosses it in the cauldron. Moments later, the trio are rushing over to the couch and pouring the potion down Luke’s throat.

The reaction is practically instant. Luke is no longer seizing on the couch and the dark veins around his wounds are receding. Magnus stops his constant flow of magic and drops. Or would have dropped, if the person behind him hadn’t caught him preventing him from making a fool of himself.

He just settles into the person’s arms and closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He used more magic than he had planned tonight and he feels exhausted. Not as exhausted as he thought he would be he realizes. That’s when he feels the hand still in his squeeze down and rub the back of his hand with their thumb. The person he’s leaning against begins to speak to Jace.

He jolts at the person’s voice, realizing just exactly who he is resting against. He opens his eyes and whips his head to Alec’s. Alec who is staring down at him with concern and worry that makes his heart ache. Magnus hurriedly lets go of their entwined hands and finds the strength to stand up. He doesn’t look back at Alec.

He asks Jace and Simon to help carry Luke to the guest room, ignoring the heat in his cheeks and the quick beatings of his heart. He hastily follows the men into the bedroom, making sure Luke is comfortable. He’s not ready to address that whole situation waiting for him in the living room.

As he gets Luke comfortable, his mind wanders back to Alec. He wonders if one of the others called Alec for help, but no, there would be no reason for them to notify Alec that he would need assistance. None of them but Clary knew about Luke’s deteriorating state and she was too busy making sure the potion was good to go when the others returned with the missing ingredient.

He pauses fluffing Luke’s pillow and presses a hand to his chest as it aches. He had been so focused on healing Luke that he didn’t even notice his connection to Alec was so open. He doesn't feel much from Alec, but he understands now, why Alec knew to come to the loft. Magnus must have called out to him and Alec came running to help.

He doesn’t understand the Shadowhunter. Magnus couldn’t have made it more clear that he wasn’t interested in getting to know him. Yet, he still showed up, saved his life twice, helped Clary get her memories back and even assisted him in saving Luke, all without Magnus asking him to. He held Magnus close to his chest and let him practically drain him of his Nephilim energy to save Luke. The part of him that he kept under lock and key for so long slowly pours out and a warmth spreads through him at the fact that someone would do that for him without him asking, begging them to do so. It’s what he always wanted in a partner.

Why should the fact that him being a shadowhunter change that? Clary’s words from before also ring in his head, that Alec kept everything he lost and displayed them proudly in his room and told others about him, other shadowhunters.

He’s hit with a yearning in his chest that makes him want to try. To maybe get to know Alec a bit and see what the shadowhunter is like. He’s never given Magnus a reason to think that he’s hostile. If anything, Alec has been giving him the space he’s asked for and was only dismissed when Magnus told him off. It’s Magnus who’s the one that’s been hostile. He should fix that, go talk to Alec. He should start by saying thank you.

Magnus excuses himself from the room and goes back out to the living room. Millions of thoughts race in his head, wondering what he should say, how he should say it. But when he reaches the living room, Alec is nowhere to be seen. Magnus steps towards the couch and looks at the entrance to his loft and doesn’t see the shadowhunter.

His foot hits something on the floor. Magnus’ breath catches as he finds a small trash bin filled with bloody rags. He looks at his couch and sees that the blood stains are gone.

Alec cleaned up the mess for him. Alec probably felt how depleted of magic he was and didn’t want him to exert himself anymore. The smell of lavender waffs through his living room, getting rid of the metallic smell of blood and decay.

He doesn’t know why that makes his eyes water. Alec did all of this without being asked to. He was being kind again, like he has been since he and Magnus first crossed paths. Magnus was just too stuck in his past to realize it.

Not anymore, he decides, clenching his fists. He’s not going to let his past dictate his happiness anymore. He has a chance to be happy with the man who the universe has chosen to be his soulmate and he’s going to make the most of it.

Magnus is going to make this right, he has to.

#facialteeth #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

41 notes · View notes

zims-left-shoe · 4 years

Note

Hi, I love your works. I was wondering if I could request a Zim x fem during the tak the hideous new girl episode. Maybe she gets jealous and tries to explain the toxicity of the relationship and just gets so frustrated with Zim that she ends up confessing her feelings to him? Thank you!

Thank you so much! This one was a lot of fun, and I had a lot of things I wanted to do so it’s kind of long and skipped around a few times. I still hope it’s coherent lmao. I honestly really enjoy writing Zim fanfic because his personality is so fun to write for.

For a Monday morning, the energy in the classroom was off the walls. It may have been suppressed to the best of everyone's ability, but anticipation was bubbling to the surface. As you glanced around, several feet were tapping beneath the desks uncontrollably, eyes darting from backpacks that smelled vaguely of meat to the looming figure of Ms. Bitters, who looked bothered to be there--something that wasn't unusual. One kid in the back was even vibrating and frothing at the mouth. The only ones who seemed calm were Zim and Dib; a strange occurrence in its own right, usually those two were the ones causing mayhem. You suspected why. After all, this holiday was never kind to the social outcasts. Best for them not to get excited at all, it's just another day.

Your eyes rested on Zim in particular, lingering there. This tended to happen often, even from the start. How could you not stare at him? When a bizarre green kid shows up out of nowhere and yells a lot, what else are you to do? You had approached him several times before, eating lunch with him on occasion. Zim was definitely weird, but you found yourself liking that about him. Maybe he had piqued your interest purely because he was new. You had been surrounded by the rest of your peers since practically diapers, and fresh faces didn't come around very often. Either way, as much as you didn't want to admit it, you had developed a bit of a crush on him. The combination of his flamboyant attitude and his offbeat personality was just so enticing.

The phone rang, and you could practically feel the collective breath the class sucked in. Moving in an almost supernatural manner, Ms. Bitters went to answer it. Her eye twitched as she held the receiver to her ear.

"No...no. No!" Her voice came out in a hiss, eyes narrowed to slits behind her glasses. "You'll pay for this one." Angrily hanging up the phone, she turned to address the class, paying no attention to the phone that was being consumed by flames. "Class, despite my moral outrage, the principal is allowing you to celebrate Valentine's Day this year."

Those were the only words needed for the classroom to figuratively errupt like a shaken can of soda. Your peers went wild, cheers close to manic screams sounding as kids dumped their bags out on the desks, meat slabs tumbling out. Again, the only two students not excited were Dib and Zim. Dib wore an expression of irritation, just wishing to get the day over with. Zim on the other hand seemed to be completely confused. His eyes flickered from student to student, watching in disgusted fascination as the meat continued to fall from bags as the kids all had dopey grins plastered on their faces.

"Go ahead. Pass out your Valentine's meat slabs. It's traditional." As if on cue, everyone stood up at once, taking their meat to desks all around the room, full of glee. You had never been the biggest fan of Valentine's Day, but you had decidedly been looking forward to the holiday this year. You thought that maybe this would be the day you could drop some hints to Zim and gauge his reaction. Fishing out the special meat slab you had saved and card you made for him, you stood up, pacing over to his desk. There was already a girl there so you stood back a ways, watching the exchange unfold.

The girl gestured the tray she held in her hands forward, offering the neatly arranged heart shaped mini meat slabs. Rather than take it, Zim pushed himself as far back as his chair would allow, his fingers curling against the desk.

"I-I left my meat at home. Sorry, I sort of forgot it, uh..." Teeth gritted, his panicked gaze surveyed the classroom to see if the majority had their eyes on him. They didn't; they were much too occupied with their own valentines to pay Zim's antics any mind. Regardless of Zim's clear discomfort, the girl laid the meat on his desk with a smile on her face. "Get that out of my face!" He screamed, violently shoving the meat from his desk and into the poor girl's face. He swiped at the air in front of his face as if trying to defend himself from an attacker. The girl scoffed in annoyance, picking up her meat and walking away, grumbling about how he should have felt lucky to receive anything at all.

The slab of meat you held felt heavy in your hands in that moment. He clearly was not into the whole Valentine's meat slab thing.

Possibly a cultural difference? You thought to yourself, grip tightening on the meat. You only wished to give him something he would like, and maybe in turn, he would like you. But what to do with the meat? Turning around, you saw Ms. Bitters hunched over her desk, looking absolutely miserable. That'll do...

You scuttled over to her desk, gently placing the meat slab down.

"What do you want?" Her voice may have been as grating as nails on a chalkboard, but you had learned to never show fear around her.

"Er, happy Valentine's Day!"

"Tch. Go socialize with your other hopeless peers before you lose the privilege." Nodding, you slowly backed away. You had gotten rid of the meat, so it was a win for you. To your delight, Zim's desk was empty. His eyes continued to dart around the room, staying vigilant in case some other student came bearing horrible meaty gifts. Letting out one final determined breath, you strode right up to his desk, waving slightly.

"I said I do not want your vile meats!" He hissed, clawing the air once more.

"I don't have meat, Zim. It's okay." A giggle fell from your lips as you presented your card. "I hope a card is okay?" He eyed the paper suspiciously as you slid it across his desk.

"Zim has nothing for you, Y/n." Regardless of his concerns, he took the card in his hands.

"That's fine." With one last distrusting look, he opened the card and began to read. It was a homemade card, something you had spent quite a bit of time on the night before. Doodles in marker were scribbled across the front, and the inside held words about how you thought he was worth hanging around despite everyone shunning him because of being a freak. There was also a decent drawing of him playfighting Dib and winning, which you thought he'd like.

"Oh. This is...um. Wow." Zim seemed to not grasp the meaning of the card. Either that, or this was his way of telling you he wasn't interested. You weren't sure which was more hurtful.

"Sorry, I...just forget about it." Suddenly your shoes became the most interesting thing you had seen in years. However, Zim guessed that he had made a mistake of some kind.

"No! I like it! It is a gift worthy of Zim!! I especially like the part where I beat the Dib." His face was split by a massive grin, and you assumed this was his unorthodox way of thanking you for it. "I thought it would explode or something." You laughed, however, he did not. Apparently he wasn't joking. Another reason you liked him. He was just so unabashedly strange--it was a great break from the norm.

You hadn't noticed Ms. Bitters take another phone call until after she had hung up, turning back to the class. "Everyone! Sit down!"

"But-" The class began to whine, not finished handing out their meaty treats.

"Now!" The old witch snapped, sending you dragging your feet back to your desk. Zim's eyes were on you the whole time, still trying to figure out why you would give him such a thing, especially without something in return. He didn't have much time to give it deep thought though, as the class erupted in whispers at the humongous jet that had just landed outside the window. You couldn't help but wonder just what was going on. Before you could even begin to delve into that train of thought, a girl wandered into the classroom, sharp purple eyes surveying the room. "To celebrate over crowding in Skool, a new student will be joining us." Ms. Bitters gestured to the girl standing at the front of the room. Her hands were folded behind her black striped dress as she smiled. Despite her seemingly pleasant attitude, something about her just rubbed you the wrong way. There was something off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"Hi! My name's Tak. I'm new here."

"Hello, Tak." You joined in with the monotone mumbling of the class, however your words came out in a grumble.

"My father's the head of the DEE-Licious Weenie corporation. So I brought Valentine's weenies for everyone!" With a wave of her hand, weenies rained down from nowhere that you could see. Almost everyone around you cheered wildly, already thrilled to have Tak as a part of the student body. Just when you were thinking she wasn't so bad, she spoke again. "Except for that kid!" She jumped on top of Ms. Bitters' desk, combat boots bringing a heavy thud. Pointing a finger at Zim, a maniacal smirk was ever present on her face. Whipping your head towards him revealed him to be completely uninterested.

"Weenies, schmeenies! Zim needs no meat!" He waved his hand, leaning back in his chair, a bored expression settling on his features.

Tak ignored his comment, continuing on. "For him, I have prepared a poem." Your eyebrow quirked up, you definitely weren't liking where this was going. She cleared her throat, about to begin, only to be interrupted by Sara.

"Looks like Zim has a girrrlfrieeennnnd!" Her voice was taunting, and although the comment was meant to be just a tease, you felt as if your heart skipped a beat. Your skin prickled as Tak ripped up the paper in her hands, rounding on Sara.

"It's not nice to embarrass people! You should apologize, and, um, eat your eraser!" Zim looked utterly terrified, sinking down so far into his seat that only his eyes were barely visible above the desk. To your shock and amazement, Sara actually proceeded to eat her eraser, even apologizing to both Tak and Zim. Things had officially safely crossed into 'what the fuck' world. You peered at Dib, the usual skeptic and gave him a 'you seeing this shit?' look, hoping he would concur. He seemed fine with what was happening, which was the most concerning part of the whole ordeal.

This is officially the weirdest day I have ever experienced...and it's only nine in the morning... You rested your chin in your hands, worried for whatever was about to happen.

"For longer than I can remember, I've been looking for someone like you. Someone with a head like yours, and a torso too. Birds sing, and you're gonna PAY, the end! Now, here's some meat covered in barbeque sauce!" Tak cackled as she tossed a rack of ribs dripping in barbeque sauce into Zim's face. A horrible shriek of pain tore itself from his throat, and you turned your attention back to Tak. Not only were you irritated that she read Zim a poem, the ending was not normal, and seemed to hide very violent intentions. Something was off. It felt almost as if she had history with Zim.

"Thank you, Tak. That was horrible." Ms. Bitters made room for her to take a seat, sending someone to the supposed 'underground classrooms'. Meanwhile, Zim's face looked as if he had been hit with a scalding hot waffle iron rather than a rack of ribs. His mouth twitched in pain as his fingers dug into the desktop, jaw clenched. The bell rang afterwards, sending kids out faster than the speed of light. You wandered over to Zim, following him out and into the hall. He still grasped at his face, which looked horrible.

"You okay?"

"Why does it hurt?!" He spoke through gritted teeth, and you sucked in a breath, taking that as a solid no.

"So...you and Tak. Do you know each other?" You decided to just come right out with it. Might as well.

"No, of course not! I have no idea who she is!"

"Really? Cause she seemed to know you. People don't just read poems to strangers. And she kind of seemed like she wanted to hurt you, Zim."

"Don't be silly! She seemed to like me. After all, meat is a sign of, what is it...love? Love, right? She's obviously madly in love with me." He grumbled, unhappy about the situation he was in.

"I don't think that's-" He paid no attention to your reasoning, keeping his head down in thought.

"That's it!" His eyes lit up, turning to face you.

"What's it...?" There seemed to be a joke you were missing out on or something.

"If it's affection she wants..." The word 'affection' didn't roll of his tongue very easy, rather he spat it out as if it were rat poison. "...then it is affection she shall get." Feeling your breath catch in your throat, your heels planted into the floor, sending you into a dead stop.

"What? You can't be serious!"

"Zim must go! Goodbye, Y/n!" The sound of his heeled boots clicking across the tile further announced his leave as he ran out of the building. This wasn't unusual, he would leave school at odd hours despite school not being over, or sometimes he wouldn't show up at all.

"Geez, if all I needed to do to get his attention was write a vaguely threatening poem and attack him with meat, I would have done that a long time ago." You muttered while you angrily shuffled to your next class, already hating where the next few days would take you.

So far, the day had been going better than you had hoped. After yesterday, you had been waiting for something to happen. During class, whenever Zim would look to Tak, he would laugh under his breath. Apparently you had missed the joke, and so had everyone else. It was concerning at best, and so when the recess bell rang, you took it upon yourself to wander outside, following Zim at an inconspicuous distance. You doubted he would have cared if you were right on his tail, but you had no desire to step in unless absolutely necessary. Of course he had ended up by Tak. She was sitting upon a concrete ledge next to Dib, most likely discussing the possibility of Zim being an alien.

You exhaled a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding when Zim forcefully shoved Dib off the ledge and into the brambles, hopping up to take his place next to Tak. You knew something was bound to happen, it was just a matter of when. It seemed that time had finally come.

"I have come to accept your feelings for me, I congratulate you for acknowledging my superiority in choosing me as your lovepig. Feel honored!"

"Lovepig…?" You murmured, watching the scene unfold. Yet again, Zim had surprised you. Just the morning before, he had found the idea of Tak being his girlfriend utterly repulsive. Now, he was accepting the offer? Maybe? There had to be a reason. There was always an angle he was playing, but you had to say, this time you were at a loss for what it could be.

Silence ensued between the two, the only noise being the surrounding din of playing children and birds chirping happy melodies. Without a single word, Tak brought out a bottle of barbeque sauce from seemingly nowhere, squirting Zim with its contents. Almost immediately he screamed, the sound so hideously harsh that it sent all birds within the school yard frantically flying. Zim fell off the ledge and onto the asphalt, rolling around as if he were on fire. Tak cackled, tossing the bottle aside.

It was incredibly obvious to you that she derived enjoyment from his pain and misery, and you hoped that Zim could see it too. This was the second time this has occurred, he had to understand now, right?

Pushing himself off the ground, he stood up, brushing dirt and barbeque sauce off of his pink dress. You thought he would be furious, but it seemed that Zim was full of surprises this day. Rather, he spoke calmly for probably the third time in his life. "Now prepare your brain, filthy beast of meat and hair." He grabbed Tak's waist, lifting her from the ledge and setting her down next to him. "Your magical love adventure begins now!"

"Idiot!" You slapped your palms to your face, watching the scene play out in disbelieving horror. Was he genuinely stupid or just a masochist? Tak didn't seem bothered, laughing insanely, Zim joining in. They laughed until Tak took a nearby trashcan, shoving it over his head and kicking him away. You cringed as Dib had crawled out of the bushes, joining in Tak's joy with a smile on his face.

That had been the first incident of that day. There had been many, many more to follow. You had decided to follow Zim and Tak to keep an eye on things, as it was clear that Zim could not handle himself. As you had expected, more pain-based loving ensued. What exactly had went down? Well-

"-he had offered her a muffin, and what does she do? She squirts him with juice and he screeches on the floor like a madman! Oh, then he gifted her a slab of meat in her locker, and she threw him out of skool screaming with the meat tied to his head." Your voice had a growl to it, and was getting progressively more agitated at higher volumes. You slammed your locker closed, the sound so jarring that several students in the surrounding area turned their heads in your direction.

"I literally have no idea who you're talking about. I'm not even in your grade!" A very frightened looking boy stared back at you incredulously, thinking you to be crazy. The poor kid had just been trying to access the locker beneath yours, but you had pulled him into a very one-sided conversation.

However, you took no notice of his comments, continuing on with your rant. "But there's more! He gave her a gift, but she shoved it over his head. Let's see, she also sicced an attack dog on him when he was trying to give her flowers. He's being so genuinely nice to her, carrying her books and all that! And she just treats him like garbage!" Throwing your hands in the air, you let out a frustrated huff. "She doesn't deserve his affection at all!"

"Yeah, uh...can I get into my locker now so I can go to lunch?" Once again, his words went in one ear and right out the other with you. The only one that stuck was 'lunch'.

"Lunch...that's it! I should try and talk to him! Thank you, Keith!"

"My name's Kevin." He sighed as you ran off towards the cafeteria. Throwing open the double doors, your eyes rested on Zim, who stood at the end of the lunch line looking worse for wear. He was covered in bruises, one eye was swollen, and his skin even seemed to smoldering. His clothes were tattered and dirty from the fresh hell that Tak had been forcing him to endure. He slouched, looking miserable as can be.

"Zim, hey." You approached him, taking your place in line behind him. He instantly straightened up, wincing in pain as he did so, clutching a hand to his side while murmuring something about his organs rupturing.

"Y/n, what brings you here?"

"Lunch?"

"Ah, yes. That." One of his eyes twitched involuntarily, and you couldn't procrastinate on your true intent any longer.

"I'm worried about you, you know." Your voice was quiet, and you wouldn't mask your concern for him. You wanted him to know that you wished the best for him, and that Tak did not fit that bill.

"Zim is fine." The line moved forward and you both grabbed trays, but you wouldn't let go of your point.

"Zim is not fine. Tak is hurting you, Zim. She's going to do some real damage to you, either physically or mentally. Although by your appearance, it seems that she's already accomplished that."

"Nonsense! In fact, Zim has never felt better." He grinned as if to prove everything was okay despite all of the evidence that told otherwise.

"How she's treating you is wrong." He hummed a response, turning away from you as the lunch ladies glopped mush onto his tray. "I'm serious, Zim. She's a psychopath and it's not okay. At all. I'm saying this as your friend."

Without even sparing you a second glance over his shoulder, he spoke with his back turned to you. "Everything is perfectly normal and under control." And with that he walked over to the table Tak was sitting at, leaving you standing there. Was he seriously just going to brush you off like that?

Dejectedly taking your tray to your own table, you watched--disappointed but not surprised--as Tak dumped both her own and his tray of food onto his head. His face scrunched in pain as if he were being burned, but he didn't yelp this time; he lacked the energy. It hurt to watch, really. Wiping the barely edible food from his face, he stood up on the table, pulling Tak up with him and grabbing her hand.

"Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Tak!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, ensuring that every student in the room heard him. Tak responded by pushing him off of the table and onto the ground, chuckling to herself afterward. Your grip on the table tightened; that was the final straw. Were you jealous? Sure. But most of all, you were more distressed with the situation. You genuinely cared for him, and you wanted to see him in a happy and healthy relationship, not one that was constant pain and misery. Much to your dismay, he still was unable to grasp the toxicity of his relationship with Tak.

It had been a long day for everyone. Especially Zim. When you had stepped into the courtyard after school, you saw him slowly dragging his feet. He looked like he had been beaten halfway to hell, somehow worse than when you had talked to him at lunch. In fact, you weren't even sure if he was human or a reanimated corpse (in reality, he was neither). Curling your hands into fists, you marched right up to Zim. If it was only day one of being with Tak and he already looked this bad, you weren't sure how much longer he could survive. It was clear that he was in desperate need of an intervention. Reaching your hand out, you laid it on his shoulder, feeling him flinch beneath your touch while he squeaked out a cry.

"Oh. It's just you, girl-thing." He seemed to relax, exhaling a long breath. Perhaps he thought you were Tak.

"We need to talk." Zim looked tired, staying put, which you hadn't entirely expected. "You need to break up with Tak. Whatever your plan was, it's a bad idea." That statement seemed to set him off. Not necessarily because he was in love with Tak, more so that he was overly defensive of his plans.

"It's fine! It's a perfectly normal pain-based human relationship." He waved your words off with his hand, yet again tossing your concern to the side. Whether he was just harmfully self-absorbed or truly a masochistic idiot would go undecided. Either way, red hot anger sizzled beneath your skin. How could he be so nonchalant about this mess?

"See, the thing is, relationships aren't supposed to be pain-based, you moron! Your whole dynamic is toxic, she's literally abusing you! Why can't you see that?"

"Zim is not a moron!" Crossing his arms, he turned his head away from you and stuck his chin in the air, quite similar to a small child pouting. "Besides, everything is going completely to plan!"

"Really? Because your skin is smoldering! Was that part of the plan, Zim?" With each comment, your volume increased, to the point where you were both screeching at the top of your lungs, despite standing right beside each other.

"It's a fashion statement!" He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at you.

"You are so infuriating sometimes, you know that?!" Your voice thick with exasperation, you stomped your foot on the concrete, internally grateful that no one had stuck around after school to see you two arguing like little children, especially over something so important. You blinked back a few tears that were rising due to frustration and anger, Zim drawing back slightly at the sight.

"Even if it is as bad as you say, why do you care? It's not your business." Although his voice was more hushed than before, his words were still quite cold. You were at your breaking point, and the floodgate couldn't hold back your emotions any longer.

"Because I like you, Zim! Like, like-like you!" Drawing in a deep breath, you prepared yourself for your rant. There was no turning back now, what's done has been done, those fated words had been said. "I don't care how different you are. You're weird, yes, but weird can be good. You may not think so, but even you deserve a functioning and healthy relationship, one where you do normal things like go out on dates, hold each others hands. You say stuff like 'I love you' rather than 'Go die'. Affection isn't supposed to be torture, Zim. Affection is supposed to invoke happiness, and Tak can't give that to you. I'm not saying I could, but..." You trailed off, your brain finally seeming to get with the program. You had already said too much.

For the first time in the history of ever, Zim stood there in a dead silence. He appeared to not know what to say or how to say it. You didn't blame him. What was he supposed to do? Scoop you up into his arms and run off into the sunset? You wanted nothing more in than moment than for a pit to open beneath your feet and swallow you whole, never to be seen again. Grabbing at the hem of your shirt, your face felt as if it were on fire. Staring at the ground under your shoes, you attempted to will the previously mentioned pit into existence. No such luck.

"I, uh, see." Zim spoke first, amazingly calm about the whole ordeal. Slowly, his usual air of confidence was returning. "Well, it might interest you to know that I was going to break things off with Tak anyway." Hope rose in your chest. Even if he wanted nothing to do with you, you were just glad he was getting out of that horrid situation.

"Really?"

"Mhm." Awkwardly clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, genuinely unsure of what to do with all of this newfound information. After a few moments, a grin spread on his face, which happened to be the tell-tale sign of him having an idea. Whether it was competent or disastrous, odds were about 30-70. For his sake, you prayed that it was much better than his Tak idea. "Say, Y/n. Would you be interested in aiding me in studying a normal human relationship?"

Sure, the way he was asking was strange, and you vaguely wondered if he held hidden motives--the answer to that question was most likely yes, but you still felt okay about your answer.

"Are you asking me out?"

"...Yes."

Pearls of laughter escaped you; he was bizarre, always has been, always will be. And yet, he was the one you had fallen for. "Sure. Only after you break up with Tak." It was then that he smiled, not a malicious smirk of a wolf cornering its prey, rather that of a boy who was just pleased to exist.

"Consider it done."

#invader zim #zim x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim fanfiction #fanfiction #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #oneshot #one shot #request

82 notes · View notes

zodiyack · 5 years

Text

Billy Hargrove VS The World

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU (See note!)

Warnings: 7 exes that would love to kill Billy, violence, swearing, soft!Billy, I guess two sexual references since it’s Billy we’re talking about, smut mention but no smut, making out, SPOLIERS!, and cheesy pirate Patel

Words: 4947

Note: This is a Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU because I love that movie and it would be interesting to write an AU involving that. Also this is a multiple part story due to all 7 exes and the battles. One ex per post! (maybe) I’m sorry for the unoriginal title lmao

By the way, yes. There is dialogue from the movie. That is in and going to be in this miniseries. As I said, I love this movie and I think most of the dialogue was funny, plus it is semi important to the story. And the exes are the same people from the movie. Sorry if you don’t like that.

o/o/y/f/c = One of Your Favorite Color(s)

Bold = Words From The Movie (that appear on the screen, if you’ve watched it, then you know what I’m talking about)

Italics with apostrophes = Billy’s thoughts (and Matthew’s thoughts but only once)

Italic = Used for a few different things, mainly enthusiasm/emphasis on words

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

link to the soundtrack on youtube ‘cause why not (a few will be in here I guess)

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5 and 6. Part 7.

“Look.”

Tommy pointed to the new girl. Finally, some fresh meat for Billy. Or Tommy, whichever one thought of her first. Billy finally grew bored of the girls at school, he waited for one that was newer. Fresher. Cuter.

There she was. Her unnatural o/o/y/f/c hair sat on her shoulders. Roller-blades on her feet, her torso clothed in a shirt covered with a hoodie and another jacket. Her bag hung by her side, headphone strings leaving it and connecting to the headphones on her head. She didn’t look like most girls. Billy had seen most of them, and none had looked as breathtaking nor interesting as her. Before either teens could walk over to her, a boy around their age walked in front of them. She was gone when he moved.

“Weird...”

“I hear she’ll be at Tina’s party tonight.” Carol noticed the boy’s fascination with the new kid, sharing it. “We should go, it’ll give you the chance to learn more about her, Billy.”

“We’ll see.” He brushed off his thoughts about the odd girl, her choice of hair color and clothing, and her headphones that caused her mental absence from the world. Billy turned and walked away, continuing with the rest of his day.

. . .

Billy was stopped by Tina. She asked him how the party was going and if he needed anything.

“Hey Tina, you know everyone, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” She let out a small laugh. Billy didn’t know whether it was fake or genuine.

“Do you know this one girl with hair...” He grabbed a pen the same color as the new girl’s hair color, quickly drawing a horrible doodle of the girl’s hair. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s Y/n L/n.” Tina took a sip of her drink, “Someone said she was gonna be here tonight actually.”

Billy’s hand that held the drawing went down quickly, his head snapping to the side and his eyes searching for Y/n. “What?”

“Oh Billy, you got the hots for her or something? I’ve gotta tell you though, I hear she’s a little hardcore-” Tina had looked down mid-sentence and when she looked back up Billy was gone. She turned her head with confusion.

Meanwhile, Billy was now walking through the crowd in search of his unique looking crush. His eyes and head shifted when he couldn’t see her, switching from left and right with each step he took. He didn’t blink, afraid that he’d miss her if he did. After many turns of his head and movements of his eyes, he finally spotted her. His hand clenched the red solo cup, squeezing it until it was crumpled and disfigured.

He slid along the wall, stopping when his body was right next to hers. He faced her, his body turned slightly so that she knew she had his full attention.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She turned her head to him for a second, facing forwards again and replying with, “Nothing.” before taking a sip from her cup.

“Hey you know swimming?”

“I know of it.” She took another sip, still not facing him.

He rambled on about the breast stroke and how he could teach her. Billy took notice of her silence, looking up to see that she was facing him with no emotion visible.

“That’s amazing.” Her reply was just as her face was; emotionless and dull.

“Uhm...” He looked down. No girl could make Billy nervous. By now, he’d have them a blushing mess, begging for him to do whatever he’d like. So now that the new girl, on the first day she’d ever met him, just somehow managed to make him regret every word he said, he thought he’d gone soft. “Am I dreaming?” Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion and another emotion Billy couldn’t quite think of. However, it was enough to make him regret speaking once more. “I’ll leave you alone forever now...”

“Thanks.”

And Then

He Stalked Her

Until She

Left

The Party

“Dude!”

He grabbed Tommy’s shoulder, spinning him around.

“What?”

“She’s totally real!”

“Who?”

“Y/n L/n.” His gaze went elsewhere. Billy then speeded off to find Tina. “Dude!” She made a face at Billy’s sudden approach, but let him speak. “What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

“All I know is that she’s (ethnicity).”

His sudden dramatic and demanding of knowledge persona swapped to dreamy, just as it had when he said her name to Tommy. “(ethnicity)...”

“Why don’t you go talk to Sandra and Monique, they know more about her.” Tina’s head nodded to two blond women laughing in a doorway. Billy rushed to them.

“Lady-dudes. What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

Sandra spoke up first, “I heard she has a boyfriend.” Monique confirmed her knowledge, “Mhm, yes. Left him back in New York.”

Billy felt a bit annoyed, but still wanted to know more. “Yeah yeah yeah...What else?”

He asked other people, earning all kinds of different responses.

“I heard she kicks all kinds of ass.”

“She’s on...another level!”

“She has men dying at her feet!”

“She’s got some battle scars dude.”

“What about Y/n L/n?!” Robin asked, semi full of annoyance for her old friend.

“You know her? Tell me now.”

“She just moved here, got a job at the mall, comes into my work.”

“Does she really?” His tone was dreamy again.

A girl put her arm around Robin, “didn’t you say she just broke up with someone?”

“Did she really?”

“They had uh...huge fight or whatever?”

“Did they really?”

Robin slapped the other girl’s arm off of her. “Yes! But I didn’t want Billy to know that, Kate!”

“Yeah...I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“Billy, I forbid you from hitting on Y/n! Even if you haven’t had a real girlfriend in over a year or whatever.”

Billy’s daydreaming halted to a stop. He let out a scoff and turned away.

“Hey, woah woah woah, my man Billy’s got all kinds of girls...he’s totally getting with an older girl sometime, right?” Tommy couldn’t keep his big mouth shut, as usual.

“Getting with an older girl or multiple girls is not having a real girlfriend.”

“She’s got a point.” Kate wrapped her arm around Robin again.

“I thought you guys weren’t friends anymore?”

Robin slapped away Kate again. “I don’t want you scaring off one of my old friends now that she’s in town, Billy. We all know you’re a lady-killer-wannabe-jerky-jerk.”

“That’s completely untrue.”

“That time with Lisa?”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“That time with Holly?”

“That wasn’t what it looked like.”

“That time you dumped Faith for-”

“Okay me and Faith are all good now, right?” He turned to where the girl Robin had mentioned stood. Her cup was in her hands and her face was blank with wide eyes. She looked traumatized. Billy turned back to Robin.

“Whatever! Y/n’s just out of your league, let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m not even sure she had a big break up. She keeps mentioning some guy named Gideon.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“FORGET IT BILLY!”

. . .

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know, it’s a letter for you dumbass. Read it.”

Billy grunted and took the letter from his father, tearing it open and allowing his eyes to scan the page slowly. He mumbled the words as he read them. It was only Max and him in the room, so it couldn’t do much harm. “Dear Mr. Hargrove, it has come to my attention that we will be fighting soon. My name is Matthew Patel and blah blah blah blah...fair warning, mono e mono, 7 evil blah blah... This is... This is... This is-”

Max grew annoyed with her older brother. “What?!?”

“This is borrrinnnggg. Get rid of thisss.” He threw the letter into the recycling and walked up the stairs to his room. “Hey Max?” For once, he didn’t care about being an ass to the redheaded girl. He had a plan, and he needed her as an excuse to leave the house.

“What is it?”

“Wanna go to the mall?”

“For real?” Of course, he couldn’t tell her. “Let me get my wallet and I’ll meet you in the car!”

. . .

“Hello. Robin tells me you ordered this ice cream but left before she could give it to you, so here.” The ice cream that she handed him was indeed abandoned when he heard Steve say that Y/n was in the mall and would be hanging around Scoops soon. “You gonna take it? Ooor-”

“Hi, I was thinking about asking you out but then I realized how stupid that would be...so do you wanna go out sometime?”

“Um no, that’s okay. You can just pay for this, alright?”

“You don’t remember me, do you? We met at the party the other day.”

“Were you the swim guy?”

“Nooooooooo, not even. That was some total ass...I was the...other guy.”

“You know you need to take this and pay for it?”

“But if I do, you’ll leave.”

“Yeah. It’s how it works.”

“Okay well maybe, do you wanna hang out sometime? Get to know each other? You’re the new kid on the block...right, I’ve lived here...for a while so there are reasons...for you to hang out with me.”

A short pause was shared between the two. Y/n’s eyes glanced up to Billy’s with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t know why he felt desperate, but this girl was making him feel different.

“You want me to hang out with you?”

“Um...” He looked down shyly, but quickly looked back up to her face. “Yeah, if that’s cool...” His tough demeanor seemed to flee whenever she was present.

“If I say yes, will you take and pay for your damn ice cream?”

He snatched the ice cream from her and tossed it over his shoulder and into the garbage can behind him effortlessly, taking out the money needed and handing it to her. “So yeah, eight o’clock?”

So Yeah ( . . . )

“Why’re you just standing there?”

“Dude, I’m totally waiting on you.” Y/n turned to Billy, her hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie. Billy didn’t know whether she looked offended or confused.

“Oh...I’m sorry, I just assumed you were too cool to be here on time...” In other words, he assumed she was like him. If you were at Tina’s party, then you were bound to be somewhat of a “cool kid” or a rebel or anything remotely relating to popularity. Then again, Tina loved handing out invites.

“Well. You assumed wrong.”

They walked in the chilly weather. Small talk slowly formed and they tried their best to get to know each other just as Billy had suggested. His nervousness didn’t leave him around her, and he was glad that no one else from school was there to see him make a fool of himself. ‘You’re just gonna get lucky and then leave her like the rest of them.’ No matter how many times he told himself that, he was too interested in Y/n. His felt something he wasn’t sure he had ever actually felt.

“So, how’d you end up in Hawkins?” Crap. He wasn’t even sure he could get to like him. Let alone be his snack of the week.

“Just needed to escape I guess...”

“Oh yeah.” He knew exactly how she felt. Or at least what he thought she meant by it.

“I got this job here and Gideon always said Hawkins was one of the cool places, so.”

Now Billy felt the need to ask the question that had been bugging him since Robin brought it up. “Is Gideon...your boyfriend?” It had been bothering him and filling him with a small amount of disappointment and worry.

“He’s...a friend.” Her gaze strayed away.

“Was he your boyfriend?”

She looked hurt. Hurt and uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I don’t get into that right now?” Y/n turned and walked to the swing set in front of them.

“Uh- it’s so not interesting to me...”

Y/n kept walking, Billy joining her and attempting to not bother her any more than he had already done. She took notice and initiated conversation so that he wouldn’t feel as awkward and guilty, “What about you, what do you do?”

“Oh, I’m in between jobs at the moment.”

“Between what and what?” She moved in front of the swing and sat down as Billy started talking. He did the same but his movements were still shy and cautious.

“Well my last job was...a long story, filled with sighs.”

“I know plenty of those.” Billy took the opportunity to check on Y/n. His face slowly looked over to hers, which was looking up and admiring the sky.

“Is that why you left New York?”

She looked in front of her, furrowing her eyebrows and nodding, “Pretty much. Just time to head somewhere a little more chilled.”

A cold breeze swept past the two. It was incredible timing.

“Well it’s certainly chilled here!” The wind gave Billy the perfect opportunity to try and lift the mood. A smile rested on his face, his joke seemed like one of the funniest things in the world seeing as Y/n had that same smile.

“Yeah...”

“It’s chilled as in cold...” Oh no. ‘Why the fuck am I so awkward?”

“Yeah.” ‘Oh dear god she noticed.’

The two decided to swing a bit more. With the conversation at a pause, that was honestly probably needed, Y/n and Billy swung their legs back and forth. competition started. They both tried to see who could go higher, Y/n won and smiled slightly while Billy smiled and chuckled with accepting defeat.

After they finished their fun, Billy and Y/n hopped off the swings for a finale. They continued their conversation afterwards, light droplets of rain mixed with small snowflakes falling over their heads.

“It’s ridiculous. Isn’t it like September?”

“No...but it doesn’t snow much in Indiana...ya know, I can barely see you?” His leather jacket was suddenly not projecting as much warmth as he normally would have anticipated. “This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.”

“I think ‘Act Of God’ is a pretty decent excuse for a lousy date.”

Billy stopped in his tracks. A sneaky signature smirk crept onto his face and his usual attitude made an appearance. “So this a date, eh?”

She stopped as well and turned. “Did I say date?” He nodded. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Tongue.”

“Anyway, nights not over yet...” She turned back to where they were originally facing, “and there’s a thingy over here somewhere.”

“Thingy?”

Once again, she turned her head towards him. “A door.” She turned it back, yet again, but this time there was a door in front of them. Odd. She nodded her head over to it in a beckoning way. “Come on.”

Billy took her hand and was dragged by her over to the mysterious door.

Y/n Come Closer ( . . . )

Y/n took off her shoes and looked up at Billy. He sat at her dining room table, staring at her with awe and adoration. Y/n broke the silence and walked over to her cupboard. “What kind of tea do you want?”

He didn’t know why he took his jacket off. His arms were cradling themselves as one would when they were cold. And he was cold. “There’s more than one kind?”

She opened the cupboard. “We have,” she inhaled. “Blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, liver disaster, ginger with honey, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle, blueberry caramel, vanilla walnut, constant comment annnnnd...earl gray.”

When her sentence was finished, Y/n turned to face a wide eyed Billy. “Did you make some of those up?”

She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box, “I think I’ll have sleepytime.”

“That sounds good to me...”

She made the tea and set it on the table. Billy’s position didn’t go unnoticed by her, “Want me to get you a blanket?” Her eyebrows were raised with amusement.

“That would actually be...awesome.”

Y/n walked away into her room. A few minutes passed. More minutes. Billy was almost done with his tea. He wondered where she went. He wondered why she was taking so long. Billy decided to go into her room and check on her, making a grunt-like wheeze.

Facing her closet, she was taking off her shirt. Upon hearing him, she turned and raised her arms. “Dude I’m changing.” She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he just walked in on her while he bra was the only thing covering her chest.

Billy let out a small, “Ah, sorry!” and covered his eyes. “I’m just cold...”

“Here. That help?”

“Yeah...that’s very warm...What is that?” His hands slowly left his face. “Oh- kaaay...” Y/n was standing right in front of him with a cheeky grin on her lips. He leaned in and kissed her. It was finally happening. Their lips danced together, it felt like they had rehearsed the dance for so long yet in reality they were very new to each other.

The make out session with Y/n was all it took to break Billy. He was in love and he couldn’t deny it. As their passion turned rough and intense, he thought of how happy he felt and how he wouldn’t normally feel that with a girl.

They finally pulled away. Billy’s arms were around Y/n and one of her hands was on his shoulder, her arms laying loosely, and her other was clutching his side under his arm.

“Were you just gonna...bring the blanket from your bed?”

“I guess...” Her voice was soft, unlike her previous dead tone. Billy managed to shatter her “hardcore” exterior with a simple make out session. Or so he thought, if you asked anyone what they thought, they’d say Y/n managed to break him within their first conversation and then decided to let him in after touching her lips to his.

“Maybe we should...both get under it...since we’re both so cold...”

“What about our tea?”

Of course. The tea. Billy didn’t give a fuck about the tea. “I can...not have tea.”

The night went on with passion and...lust. They stripped down to their underwear and continued making out on Y/n’s bed. At some point they got under the blankets and Y/n leaned over Billy to continue their rough kissing. When it was “just about to get good”, Y/n pulled away from Billy.

“I changed my mind.”

“...changed it from what?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you Hargrove.” She moved over beside Billy, laying on his arm and snuggling into his side. “Not right now.”

Another, “Oooh- kay?” escaped Billy’s mouth. As usual, he didn’t know if he should feel hurt, angered or just plain okay with it. He longed for Y/n. She was his addiction, better than any drug. In his mind, he made the exception; feel bad about it later, stay with her for now.

“It’s not like I’m gonna send you home in this weather or anything, you can sleep in my bed. And I reserve the right to change my mind about the sex later.” At least he had a chance.

“This is...nice. Just this...” He was referencing their semi-cuddling forms. “It’s been like, a really long time so I think I needed this...whatever it is so...thank you.”

Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek, “You’re welcome.” He wrapped his arms around her when she wrapped one of her arms around his neck.

. . .

Billy and his basketball team were just having some harmless fun. It was a game, and school was out for the day. No one could do anything bad, right? Wrong.

Read to show off, Billy brought the new girl to the gym. Max was dragged along since Billy was her ride home. He and his team were horribly distracted by the pretty girl now known as Billy’s first official girlfriend. Scowls and mean looks were given to Y/n by the other girls at school, purely out of jealousy. This morning, Y/n was walked down the hall of Hawkins’ high under Billy’s arm, wolf whistles and more sounded around them.

A weird looking guy stormed into the room, “MR. HARGROVE. IT IS I, MATTHEW PATEL. CONSIDER OUR FIGHT,” Y/n looked horrified. She was pale and breathing unsteadily. The guy who had announced himself to be Matthew moved his head slightly, nodding his hair out of his face. “BEGUN!”

He ran at Billy. ‘What is this kid on?’ Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. “What did I do...?” His voice was slow. He really was moving in slow motion. “What do I do...” Matthew launched himself into the air with his fist raised. He aimed himself to punch at Billy.

Tommy gripped the shoulders of the boys next to him, leaning forward and yelling with entertainment. “Fight!”

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenched. He threw the basket ball to the side and shifted to a fighting stance. He blocked Matthew’s punch with his arm and reversed their roles. He swung his fist at Matthew’s face, somehow knocking him to the side of the room. Tommy, Max and Y/n’s eyes widened, as well as everyone else’s in the room.

Matthew still refused to give up. He jumped in front of Billy, “Alright! Alright...”

Max yelled from the bleachers. “Watch out!” They all turned to her. “It’s that one guy.”

“Ha!” Matthew smiled mischievously and ran at Billy again. Sadly, some people just don’t learn from their mistakes. Billy threw an uppercut to Matthews chin, sending him flying to the back of the room. Billy got in some extra punches while Matthew was still down. The two landed in front of each other, most of the people in the gym now gathered around them.

Matthew blew dust off his shoulders and turned to Billy before laughing a laugh that could’ve been mistaken for a villain’s. They started to circle each other, Mathew taking a step to the left and Billy taking a step to the right, “Well well well...you’re quite the opponent.” His neck moved left and then moved back to the right after each syllable when he said, “Hargrove.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?”

“My name,” he swung his right arm up into the air, his left clenched in a fist that met his collar bone. “is Matthew Patel! And I’m Y/n’s FIRST,” Matthew lifted his pointer finger on his left hand and moved his arm to the side. He moved his fingers so that his pinky, ring and middle fingers were out, his thumb and pointer finger touching so that the tips were smooshed together. He turned back to Billy, “evil ex boyfriend.” His shoulders moved up and down one at a time when he said boyfriend. When his hand went down, he let out a growl.

“Her what?” Everyone’s heads turned to Y/n.

She turned to Max and the other people on the right of her. Y/n nervously smiled, “Anyone need a drink?”

A fight initiated between the two boys, fists and feet being used. The grunts coming from both males were loud. Surely, at least one of them would have bruises after this.

Max made a face of massive confusion, looking around for any clues of the situation. Her older brother kept fighting the abnormal kid. After a few more swings, Billy, again, realized how confusing this really was. He wanted to ask beforehand, but this Matthew guy was really determined to teach Billy a lesson.

“Wait!” He held out his hand in a stopping motion. “We’re fighting over Y/n?” He personally had no problem with it, but the “Evil Ex” thing was getting to his head.

Matthew lowered his fist slightly, “didn’t you get my letter explaining the situation?”

“I skimmed it...”

Max squeezed her eyes shut and clicked her tongue. “Mm mm.” She shook her head with her disconfirming noise.

Matthew only seemed to grow madder. “You will pay for your INSOLENCE!” He threw kick after kick after kick, all of which were blocked by Billy. The anger fueled him to the point where Billy could only do few attacks with little time. Just as Billy was gaining the upper hand, Matthew socked him square in the face with both fists, then his right foot with a jump spinning kick.

The people in the crowd behind Billy caught him when he fell backwards from the attack, pushing him forwards and urging him to continue with the fight. Matthew backed up one foot at a time and did weird dance, finishing it off with pulling his coat forward a bit so the dust came off of it and tilting his left foot upwards.

“Hey.” Max leaned forward, gaining the attention of two boys as well as everyone else in the gym. “What’s up with his outfit?”

“Yeah. Is he a pirate?” Laughter flooded the room at Tommy’s observation.

Billy was also curious. “Are you a pirate?” He asked Matthew in a simple and genuinely asking way. Unfortunately, Matthew looked caught off guard and offended.

“Pirates are in this year!” He wasn’t shouting, but he said it with a sassy and upset tone. “Gah!” This time he did shout. His fist was aimed at Billy, and his feet were already moving forward.

More attacks were made. Billy finally did have the upper hand. After Matthew tried to hit Billy’s face again, Billy caught his arms and held them to his chest. His eyes and head turned to Y/n. He was pissed off now. “You really went out with this guy?”

Everyone faced Y/n now. “Yeah.” She stood up and leaned forward, “In the 5th grade.”

Silence. Billy looked around, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he spoke up again, “And?”

She sighed. “It was football season and for some reason, all the little jocks wanted me. Matthew was the only nonwhite nonjock boy in town, so the two of us joined forces and we took 'em all down. We brawled and scrapped, fought for hours. Nothing could beat Matthew’s mystical powers. We only kissed once. After a week and a half, I told him to hit the showers.”

Matthew was full of rage. His furrowed eyebrows and reddened skin could do nothing but confirm that statement.

“Dude wait- mystical powers?” Billy was confused. Unluckily for him, Matthew took advantage of his distracted state and broke free from his grip. Music started playing in the background. Matthew pushed Billy and turned to Y/n, holding out his pointer finger and pointing at her. The veins on his forehead were bulging.

“You’ll pay for this,” He paused for a second. Y/n was visibly afraid. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was was ajar. Matthew finished his sentence with a slight raspy sound to his voice, “L/n.” He swiftly turned to Billy and started dancing and singing. It’s a cringey dance and song to say the least.

“If you want to fight me,”

Max made the same confused face as she had previously. “What!?” She knew it was dumb to pick a fight with Billy, but to sing and dance while doing so? And to get her exes together so they could fight Billy? Were they that dumb?

“Hah! You’re not the brightest.

You won’t know what hit you,

in the sligh-igh-ightest.”

He made sounds with his mouth, floating into the air. Black and white colored girls, kind of like those old animations on tv, were summoned around him. They looked like someone wanted to make demon girls but was a perverted guy who loves hipsters.

“This guy’s good-” One of the basketball team members spoke. He too was wide eyed and confused as fuck.

“Me and my fireballs,

my demon hipster chicks!”

Looks like he was right about hipsters.

“Tell ‘em Matty.” They had a seductive-like voice. With a closer look, Billy could see that their eyes were like snakes. Their teeth were sharp too.

“I’m talking thee talk,

‘Cause I know I’m slick!” He winked before his weird demons spoke again.

“S-L-ICK.”

“Fireball-balls!” He threw the fireball at Billy, who thankfully dodged it in time. Gasps were heard around the room. At least it wasn’t just Billy seeing this shit. “Take this sucker out!” More flames erupted from his hands, shooting at Billy again.

“We’ll show him

What we’re all about!”

“That doesn’t even rhyme!” Billy finished off his sentence by throwing the now broken ring from the hoop at Matthew like a frizzbe. It hit him in the head and caused him to flip backwards a bit. His demons disappeared and it was his turn for his eyes to widen.

‘This is impossible. How can this be?’

Somehow, Billy heard and responded to Matthew’s thoughts with his own, ‘Open your eyes. Maybe you’ll see.’ He jumped at Matthew and returned the punch that had formerly knocked him back into the crowd.

Though, something strange happened this time. When Billy’s fist made contact with Matthew’s skin, he slowly fell a bit, but when he hit the ground, his body turned into 9 quarters. Everyone except for Tommy, Max, Carol, Billy and Y/n continued acting normal. The difference with them and the 5 others were that they had no memory of this “Matthew Patel” or of any fight. The damage in the gym was restored, but still. The 5 of them knew what happened and didn’t know quite yet that no one else did.

“Sweet! Coins!”

“Coins that’re mine, shortstack.” Billy took the remains of Matthew from the poor kid holding them. He walked outside, following the other 4 to discuss what just happened.

123 notes · View notes

aestheticsandwriting · 5 years

Text

One-Shot a Day, Day 4: Power Outage. RvB

Day 4: Power Outage. The overnight blizzard has caused a power outage. Thankfully the cabin Tucker, Junior, and Wash are staying in has plenty of firewood and candles, and the three brought plenty of card games and board games to keep them busy.

“Hey, bud, how long have you been up?” Wash jogs down the stairs, spotting Junior sitting on the couch, doodling in a notebook, blanket draped over his hoodie-clad torso, taking note of the early time; about six-thirty.

“Not too long, but I moved down here to sleep about two this morning. My room got too cold.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty chilly in here. Had breakfast yet?” Wash tries to set the coffee pot going, not thinking about the lack of electricity until it won’t start, sighing and walking back over to the couch, glancing down to see Junior’s dragon drawings. “I’m going to put some more wood in the fire, and then get me some cereal or something. We’ll have to move all our cold and frozen stuff outside at some point today since the fridge isn’t running.”

“Nope, not too hungry right now. Papa Wash?”

“Yeah?” He smiles at the new name.

“Can I help you put the wood in the fireplace? Dad’s never let me cause he says it’s too dangerous.”

“Sure, I’ll let you help with a couple of small pieces. Big pieces can be really hard to put in cause they roll sometimes, but we can do a few smaller ones instead of one or two big ones.”

“Yay! Thanks!” Junior throws his notebook and pencil on the coffee table and scrambles to the small wood stock they laid next to the fireplace the previous night. The blond man knees down, showing the boy how to put the wood into the fireplace safely, using the poker to make sure the wood is back far enough before they close the door again, rinsing their hands and deciding to get some cereal for breakfast, taking the milk outside and setting it on the porch to stay cold.

After washing out their bowls and spoons, Junior looks at his dad’s boyfriend. “Papa Wash?”

“What’s up?”

“Will you tell me some stories?”

“What kind of stories do you want to hear?”

“I know you don’t like to talk about some of it, but would you tell me about some of your time as a soldier? I want to know what it’s like to be one.”

“Yeah, I think I can tell you some things. I have some funny stories from basic training.” The two lay down on the couch, Wash throwing his arm over Junior’s torso, wrapping them both up in the blanket. “There was this one time in basic,” a chuckle at the memory, “we had this obstacle course we had to do some days in PT. And one of the sections was kind of like a rope wall thing we had to climb. I was terrible at it. Well, that particular day I got my foot caught in one of the ropes, I just dangled there while everyone else was climbing all around me and I couldn’t get free. I had to re-do the course all by myself in front of everyone after they all finished to make sure I could do it in the right amount of time.”

Forty-five minutes and three stories later Wash pauses, glancing down curiously even though the boy can’t see him. “Why have you become curious about my time as a soldier recently?”

“Oh… well. I just am.”

“Junior… what’s going on? If you’re just curious, that’s fine you can tell me, but is there something else?”

“Well… both you and dad were soldiers, so I thought that you would want me to be one, too.” A pause as the boy fidgets slightly, the older man seeing that he wants to say more, so he stays quiet. “And, I figured I should know as much as possible about what it’s like in the military so that way I don’t disappoint you and dad.”

“Oh, Junior.” Wash squeezes the boy tight against him. “Your dad and I want you to do whatever you want to do. If you truly want to be in the military, you can go into the military and we’ll both be very proud of you. But if you want to go to school and become a scientist or a veterinarian, or a nurse, or doctor, or if you want to go to trade school to become a mechanic, or welder, or carpenter, then that’s fine too! We want you to do something that you can be happy or content with. Trust me, it is not worth it to be doing a job that you hate if you have other options. You’re a smart person, and both your dad and I agree that we think you could do whatever you want if you set your mind to it.”

“Oh… So you don’t expect me to go into the army?” Junior squirms, turning himself in his step-dad’s arms so he can face him, concern bright in his dark eyes.

“Of course not.” Wash drops a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “Like I said, if you’re just curious about my time as a soldier I’m happy to tell you, and if you want to be a soldier, then your dad and I will be proud of your choice, but that’s not our expectation just because we were both soldiers.”

“Oh… Okay! I like that much better. Cause I was thinking I might want to be an artist.”

“And I think you’d be amazing at it.”

“Could you tell me some stories about when you were a kid?”

“Did I ever tell you about my cat, Loki?”

“Nope.”

“Ooooh man. We had him back when I was a kid. Loki was always getting into trouble. One time he got stuck in a tree in our backyard.”

“Oh no!”

“Yeah. My mom’s about to call the fire department when dad stops her. Says he’ll handle it. So he sends her inside and gets out his chainsaw. Dad was never a cat person. So he starts to cut down the tree, but it falls the wrong way. Right into the power lines!”

“What happened to Loki?!”

“Poor cat was electrocuted, falls thirty feet out of the air, lands on his feet, and then walks away like nothing ever happened.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah! Another time, we found him in the dryer once ma had finished a load of laundry. And another time we found him in the engine of dad’s truck. That cat lived to be twenty-five years old.” Wash continues, telling him a few more stories of his childhood, Junior giggling as he obviously embellishes a few of them, and that’s how Tucker finds them close to two hours after Wash had come downstairs.

“Hi, dad!” The boy calls, having stayed in his facing upward position so he could see Wash’s face while he was story-telling, giving him a perfect view of the open landing above.

“Morning, T, nice of you to finally join us.” Wash grins up to where his boyfriend is standing.

“Yeah, I must’ve really needed the sleep. What have you boys been up to?”

“Wash has been telling me about when he was a kid! He had a cat named Loki that could live through anything!”

“Ooooh, that sounds fun. Have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah, we both had cereal. The milk is already outside to stay cold. I didn’t measure, but it looks like the blizzard last night dropped about two and a half feet of snow, but I turned my phone on to check the forecast quick, and it looks like it’s supposed to start warming up enough tomorrow to melt it. But who knows how long the electricity will be out, so we should probably move the rest of the cold stuff our there and surround it with snow.”

“Oooh, I’ll put my snow clothes on and pack the snow around stuff if you and dad bring it out!”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s let your dad eat breakfast first, though, okay?”

“Okay. Oh, dad! Wash taught me how to put small logs in the fire this morning, too!”

“I hope that’s okay with you? I didn’t let him put in anything too big.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. He’s grown a lot since last year, and I trust your judgment.” Tucker finally descends the stairs, dropping a kiss on his son’s forehead and his boyfriend’s lips before walking into the kitchen, grabbing a pop-tart and heading back into the living room, nudging Wash feet. “Move, lemme sit.”

“That’s pleasant.” The blond grins at him as he moves his feet, plopping them back down on Tucker’s lap after he sits.

After Tucker finishes, the three don their winter clothing, Junior bundled heavier than the two adults, still volunteering to stay outside and surround their food items with the snow to keep them cold. They set to work, carrying the food out and insulating it.

After that job is done, Tucker sets to work turning on and heating up the gas stove to heat water, dumping in hot chocolate packets once it’s hot enough and passing mugs to his son and boyfriend, picking up his, and then settling on the couch with them again.

“Dad, Papa Wash?”

“What’s up?”

“Can we play some games? Like Uno, or Clue or something? I’m starting to get bored. Wash and I were gunna play more of the racing game today, but we can’t do that until the power comes back on.”

“Yeah, go pick a game and we’ll play!”

“Yes! Be right back!” Junior hops off the couch, running up the steps to his room where the game bag had been placed, running back down with the whole bag a minute later. “I thought it’d be smarter to just bring the whole bag so I don’t have to go back up when we want to change games.”

The trio spends the afternoon and evening playing various games like Uno, Clue, Sorry, and even a round of The Game of Life before deciding to break for dinner. “Wash, will you go out and grab the stuff out there that we need for the quesadillas? I kept the chicken in here thawing cause those will cook with the gas stove and don’t need the oven since we can’t use it right now.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.”

Once Tucker has the ingredients, he sets to work, cutting up the chicken, placing it, cheese, sauce, and beans on tortillas, folding them, wrapping them in foil and placing each of them on a stove burner, keeping a careful eye on them to ensure nothing catches fire as they cook.

“Dinner’s ready, guys,” Tucker calls, carefully pulling back the foil from the last of the quesadillas, setting them on plates for each of the others to grab as they come into the kitchen and dining area. “Hey, Junior, are you going to sleep down here tonight or do you want to bunk in mine and Wash’s room if the power still isn’t back on?”

“I’ll just sleep on the couch. It’s pretty comfy, plus I’m getting too big to be sleeping in the same bed as y’all.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Yep! Can we play another game of Clue after dinner?”

“Sure, bud.”

After dinner, Tucker sets about finding the candles he knows the landlord stores for power outages, lighting them and setting them around so they can see, Wash re-stocking the fireplace with more wood, also grabbing more from the covered woodpile on the deck to bring in for the night, taking some up to his and Tucker’s room, rekindling that fire, too.

After a few more hours of games, and Junior nearly falling asleep during the last game, Sorry this time, Tucker tells his son it’s time for bed and that tomorrow they’ll put the tree up and decorate it weather they have electricity for the lights or not since it’ll be only two days until Christmas.

The three trudge up the stairs, Junior to put his pajamas on and brush his teeth, Wash and Tucker retreating to their room for the evening, taking a few candles with them for light, making sure Junior has his battery-powered lantern and that all the candles downstairs had been put out and dosed with a slight bit of water for safety. “Come in and tell us goodnight before you head downstairs, J, but make sure you knock first if the door is closed in case we’re still changing.”

“Okay, dad.” Junior’s voice muffles as Wash closes the bedroom door behind them, him and Tucker changing into their pajamas as well, each man throwing on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, not needed anything heavier due to the fireplace in their room.

“Goodnight dad, goodnight Papa Wash. I love you both.” Junior walks into the room, his father having opened the door after they finished changing, signaling to the boy he could come in whenever.

“Goodnight, Junior. I love you, too.” The couple says in unison, Wash hugging him and dropping a kiss to his forehead, before the boy’s father moves to do the same.

“If you wake up cold in the middle of the night cause the fire’s dying, come wake one of us, yeah? I trust you, but I still don’t want you putting in new firewood by yourself, especially not in the middle of the night, okay?”

“Okay, dad, I will.”

“Good. I love you.” He drops a second kiss on his son’s head before Junior turns and walks out of the room, the couple hearing his footsteps fade away down the stairs.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing him call me that.” They each step into the bathroom, brushing their teeth and readying for bed in their normal routine for whenever Wash decides to stay at Tucker’s. “So Junior and I had a talk this morning,” Wash’s voice is soft as the couple crawls under the covers, the dark-skinned man tucking himself into the light-skinned man like normal, and Tucker notes the slight caring concern in the voice that he gets when they talk about an important subject.

“Yeah?” Tucker turns his head enough to make eye contact with his boyfriend. “About what?”

“His future job. He was asking me all sorts of questions about what it was like to be a soldier. At first, I just thought, ‘well, okay, he’s a ten-year-old boy that’s interested in this kind of thing.’ But then he kept asking about things, and when I questioned him about it he told me he thought we would want him to become a soldier because we both were, and he wanted to know what to expect that way he could have plenty of time to be prepared and not disappoint either of us.” A sigh from the younger of the two breaks the silence that had been left by Wash finishing his sentence.

“I wonder where he ever got that idea.”

“No idea.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth.” Wash pauses for a second, internally marveling at how much Tucker truly does trust him with his child; it’s still so hard to believe sometimes. “That we both want him to do something that he can at least be content with, and hopefully happy doing. And that if he truly wants to become a soldier, we’d be proud, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be proud if he does something different. That was okay, right?”

“Yes, Wash, that was wonderful. You did great. You know Junior really does see you as another father, right? He was ecstatic when I asked him what he thought about you moving in with us.”

“Yeah, I know. I just… Sometimes it doesn’t seem real.”

“I know. Did he say anything about what he might want to do after he found out we don’t expect him to go into the military?”

“He said he might want to be an artist. He’s good at it. I’m sure if he applied that into digital design he could do really well.”

“I bet he could make a killing at that. That or an animator of some kind. But he’s got plenty of time to decide and even change his mind. I can’t believe he’s going to be eleven in a couple months, though.”

“Ugh, stop that, you’re making me feel old.”

“It’s cause you are old.” The younger of the two grins, laughing when Wash playfully slaps him, pretending to be offended.

“Really? Cause I’m pretty sure old guys can’t do this.” The blond slings a leg over Tucker’s waist, straddling the younger man and leaning down to kiss him, grinning when he hears Tucker mumble the word ‘asshole’ against his lips.

“Yeah, but you chose to have me around.”

“True.” As the word leaves Tucker’s mouth the light from their bathroom, which had been on when the power went out the night before, flicks back on, the heating system almost kicking on due to the thermostat being in the cold hallway, not the room filled with the heat from the fireplace.

“I’m going to go lower that temperature so it doesn’t run too much overnight since we have the fires going.”

“Sounds good. I’d like to not wake up in a puddle of sweat.”

“Agreed.” Wash climbs off Tucker, heading into the hallway, and Tucker stands to turn off the bathroom light, getting back into bed when Wash walks back into the room.

“Come ‘ere Mr. not-so-old guy,” Tucker smirks, kissing Wash again as he climbs into bed. “Let’s get some sleep, I have a feeling we’ll be playing in the snow with J tomorrow.”

“Agreed. Goodnight, Tucker, I love you.”

“I love you too, Wash.”

18 notes · View notes

justatiredghost · 5 years

Text

Unsolved Academy Ch11 - End

Klaus and Dave run a Buzzfeed Unsolved-style tv show and they’ve just gotten engaged. (Since the plot is now essentially wrapped up, I’m marking this fic as complete. However, I still have some ideas that I might add as bonus episodes later)

“Just so you know,” Dave said. “I seriously considered proposing in some super fancy restaurant.”

They were holding hands as they walked home from their adventurous night out, their steps slow and casual like they didn’t want the night to end, both of them wearing their rings. Klaus raised their clasped hands periodically to suck on what little candy remained on his RingPop despite the awkward angle. Dave’s was already gone.

“And how exactly did you think we would be paying for that?” Klaus asked, laughing against Dave’s shoulder.

“Now, see, that’s the beauty of it,” Dave said, raising a hand as he laid out his scheme. “If we’d conveniently forgotten our wallets, surely they’d simply let us go. We’d just gotten engaged after all! It’d be kind of a dick move to accuse us of anything or demand payment. I decided against it though, I’d feel bad not being able to leave a proper tip.”

“Amazing,” Klaus laughed, leaning into him. “Man after my own heart.”

By the time they made it back to the house, enough time had gone by that it could charitably be called early morning. Ben was already up and eating breakfast like a responsible adult, no doubt getting ready to head to class. Klaus was still full of too much energy and excitement and didn’t waste any time.

“Ben!” he exclaimed, bounding up to him and holding up his hand. “Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, look! We’re getting married!”

“About time,” Ben said with a smile, looking truly happy for them.

“Wait, why don’t you look surprised?” Klaus asked, immediately suspicious when Dave blushed crimson and avoided eye contact.

“Your fiancé there actually asked for my blessing,” Ben chuckled.

“What?” Klaus said, drawing out the world, and he couldn’t help but laugh, wishing he could have been there to see it.

“What? I don’t know how these things work. I never thought this sort of thing would apply to me so I never really paid attention.”

“You are too adorable,” Klaus said, pinching his cheek.

“Did he propose with the RingPop?” Ben asked. “I thought it was a nice touch.”

“Oh yeah, and check this out, you’re never going to believe this,” Klaus held up Dave’s hand to show off the plastic ring there as well.

“Klaus also got a RingPop to propose with,” Dave explained.

“Oh my god,” Ben laughed. “You have got to be kidding me. You guys really are ridiculous.”

Klaus beamed at that, finding Dave’s hand again and squeezing tightly.

“Come on,” Dave said to him. “We’ve been up all night, I think we’ve earned some sleep.”

“Good idea. See ya, Ben, good luck in class.”

“Sleep well,” Ben said, smiling and shaking his head as he watched them go.

“Klaus Katz,” Klaus said dreamily, hand up in the air as he examined the ring on his finger as if it had a diamond on it. He rolled over on the bed and scooted closer to Dave, taking his hand as he did so. “I think I like the sound of that.”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Dave chuckled, so close that their noses bumped.

“What? I think it’s perfect. It might as well be alliterative and over the top. Go all in, baby.”

“Over the top is definitely you, but what about Dave Hargreeves?” Dave countered.

“Aww, have you been doodling that in notebooks?” Klaus asked. “Maybe with little hearts around it?”

“Maybe,” Dave said evasively, grinning.

“Adorable. But really, you don’t want to take that name,” Klaus chuckled. “I’m fine with leaving it and all of Reggie’s legacy in the dust.”

“Is that really what you want?” Dave said, voice thoughtful as he ran a hand absently through Klaus’ hair. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, fuck your old man, but it’s not his name I’m taking. It’s yours. It’s the family you and your siblings are making. You took all the shit he dumped on you and you’re turning it into something good. A real family. And I’m honored to be a part of that.”

He extended Klaus’ arm so he could run his thumb gently across the umbrella tattoo there. Honestly, Klaus would have gotten it covered up with a different design a long time ago if he hadn’t found the entire thing so hilarious; a ‘fuck you’ to dear old dad, having his symbol on his greatest failure, and wasn’t Klaus just the perfect representation of how the whole Umbrella Academy business had turned out? Quite literally in the gutter. But Reginald was dead and this didn’t have to be about him any longer.

After they’d saved the world, Klaus was actually truly glad he hadn’t gotten it covered or removed. Sure, there was still a lot of pain there, but Dave was right, they were making this their own, repairing their relationships and building the family they’d never had. And to represent that, he and his siblings had gone out and gotten the old faded tattoos touched up, tweaking the design to be their own, to represent something else. Something new.

None of them had really bothered to put it into words but Klaus supposed it sort of existed as a representation of a promise to try to do better by each other, to make sure none of them had to feel so alone and helpless again. And this time, Vanya was a part of it. Not because she had powers now but because she was their sister.

“But you don’t need to keep the name to keep your family,” Dave continued. “So if your dad is all you think about when you hear the name, then by all means, ditch it. It’s just, I know how hard you’ve tried to keep me away from everything he did and how glad you are I never had to meet him. I just don’t want you to give anything up for me that you might regret.”

“I’m not going to regret anything with you,” Klaus said, placing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Good. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Because you’re my family.”

“Oh my god! You are too sentimental, you know that? I’m way too tired for you to be this sappy,” Klaus laughed, burying his face in Dave’s neck.

“I can’t help it, I get sappy when I’m tired,” Dave said. “Really this is your fault for keeping me out all night.”

“Maybe that’s because I secretly like it,” Klaus said.

“We could always abbreviate. Katz-Hargreeves. Hargreeves-Katz? I guess we have plenty of time to work it out. When are we doing this anyway?”

“Oh, right,” Klaus said. “I’d been so focused on the asking part that I completely forgot that it’s not over, we still gotta do the actual wedding. When did you want to do it?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Dave laughed. “I also wasn’t really thinking that far ahead.”

“We could stick to the plan,” Klaus suggested.

“Yeah, save up, rent a place, then I guess save some more for some actual rings that are a bit sturdier than cheap plastic? We could probably use our average income to figure out how far away that’ll be.”

“Uuugh, math,” Klaus groaned. “Math is for morning us.”

“It is morning. And besides, I know you’re secretly great at math.”

“It’s for ‘after sleeping’ us then because I am not so secretly exhausted.”

“Sounds good,” Dave said with a laugh. “As for the actual wedding, did you have anything in mind for that? I’d be fine with just going to a courthouse and getting the paperwork taken care of or whatever. I don’t need anything fancy, just you.”

“That’s very sweet but you are missing the perfect opportunity for an excuse to put on a wild party,” Klaus pointed out. “And Pogo would probably pay for it.”

“Oh shit you’re right.”

“Besides, you can’t tell me you never dreamed of being able to have a traditional Jewish wedding.”

“Aw, has someone been doing research?” Dave said and he looked much too fond.

“Of course I did, babe,” Klaus said, bringing his hand up to frame his face, brushing his thumb fondly across his cheek. “It’s important to you. So? Do you want that?”

“Yeah, actually, I think I do want that,” Dave said, smiling. “I never really thought it would be an option for me so— yeah. Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“For this, for thinking of me even when I forget. Just for everything. You’re my dream come true.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Klaus said, beaming and maybe even blushing a little as he hit Dave with his pillow, but not very hard. Dave was about to retaliate, the two of them sitting up for a better angle, but Klaus suddenly thought of something and raised a hand. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, I just had an amazing idea! What if we got an elephant?”

“What? Is that even possible?” Dave asked, lowering his weapon, looking curious but suspicious.

“I dunno but it would be pretty awesome. Come on, it’s your special day, live a little! What else could we do?”

“Okay, how about this,” Dave said, hands out like he had something huge. “An elephant wouldn’t fit, but what if we went somewhere with a ball pit?”

“I’m intrigued, please continue,” Klaus said with a grin, chin in hands.

“It’s suddenly become my dream to see Diego in one. Can you imagine?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Klaus cackled. “We have to do that now. And I’m not above tackling him into it if necessary.”

“I’d ask if you think we could get Five too but that’s probably pushing our luck.”

“I guess it depends if you want to die on our wedding day or not.”

“Point taken.”

“How about Luther instead?” Klaus suggested.

“It might take more than the two of us to tackle him in though.”

“Ben will help. But we gotta be careful or people might catch on the third or fourth time we tackle someone.”

It felt like something huge had happened, even though a proposal didn’t actually change anything between them. Their day to day was the same, but there was just something so official about it all, it just reinforced the fact that they had done it, they had found love, a partner in life, and they were overwhelmingly happy.

Both of them went into Vietnam thinking they had nothing, that their lives were virtually over, and now, after somehow surviving and coming out the other side, it felt like their lives were just beginning. This was so much more than either of them ever expected to have and suddenly they had a future to look forward to. Together.

Thanks to the success of their channel, they were able to move out sooner than they’d anticipated. They found a tiny apartment, just like they’d talked about, and even if it wasn’t the nicest, it was still utterly perfect. This was theirs. Their home. They stood there side by side, an arm around each other’s waist, perhaps a dozen boxes full of their belongings strewn about.

“We did it,” Dave said, voice full of awe. “Holy shit we did it. We really are adults.”

“Debatable, but we already signed the contract so they can’t kick us out now,” Klaus said gleefully.

“I mean, they can, but never mind,” Dave said. “Hey, we can do whatever the hell we want in here! What sort of childhood dreams do you want to fulfill? We could get a hammock if we wanted.”

“Yes! And we need a pillow fort! And lots of hideous decor!,” Klaus said.

“I know it’s only one floor,” Dave said excitedly. “But do you think we can fit a slide somewhere in here?”

“I don’t know, but we’re gonna try,” Klaus said. “And obviously we gotta make it all as gay as possible.”

“Hey, Klaus?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

It was so strange for Klaus to be standing in the middle of a home he could actually call his own with the man of his dreams in his arms. He’d lived on the streets for so long, he’d gotten so used to just drifting, never having a place of his own, and the only place he had been able to call a home, the place he’d grown up, was anything but. It had been full of so much cruelty and loneliness.

But this? This was theirs. And they would make it everything a home was supposed to be, full of laughter and love, where they could both be happy and live the lives they always wanted, that they could be proud of. He hugged Dave a little closer, letting him rest his head against his shoulder and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Wait,” Dave said. “We’re gonna have to unpack all this shit.”

“Fuck. This is gonna take forever.”

(Author’s note: apparently I spoke too soon and I’m not done with this yet, bonus chapter here)

#klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klave #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #fanfic #unsolved academy #I am so sorry this took me so long #depression hit me hard #and I've really been having a hard time writing #hopefully it doesn't show in this chapter #anyway I dunno if i'll post more for this #depends if I get anymore ideas #i'm sure everyone is tired of seeing me trying to be funny though lol #anyway thank you so much to anyone who read through to the end!#my fic

12 notes · View notes

geniuslab · 7 years

Text

Begin (M)

→ Series: Seven Chances | 01

→ Pairing: Jungkook x reader

→ Genre: fluff, smut, high school romance

→ Word Count: 12k

→ Summary: Jungkook is your childhood friend, but a journal full of drawings leads you both to a series of firsts that neither of you expected to share.

→ A/N: This is part one of a series of interconnected oneshots, each one focusing on a different member. Chapters can be read independently, but are best read together and in order.

Almost every morning was the same. You sat with your best friend Jisoo, and you both had a mutual understanding that mornings were not for talking. Instead, you would let your head smack against the bus window as you started to doze off. Jisoo played games on her phone, and she would gently stir you awake a few minutes before you arrived at school. This arrangement worked well for the both of you, and your routine didn’t change very often.

Except for that morning. Right before the haze of sleep fully pulled you under, something landed in your lap. You opened your eyes to look down and saw a neatly folded letter in your lap. On it was To: Y/N, From: Jungkook

You furrowed your brow. Jungkook never wrote you notes. And even if he did, he would know better than to disturb your morning routine.

The instant you opened the letter, you knew it wasn’t from Jungkook. Inside was a very poorly-written love letter; a sappy confession of unrequited love that made you roll your eyes. You heard snickers from behind you, and turned back to see a group of kids laughing from behind their hands. You balled the letter up and threw it at them.

“Ohhhh, did Jungkook finally confess his love for you?” one of them asked and then broke out into a fit of laughter. The rest joined in, seemingly giddy from their lame prank. You glanced around the bus and spotted Jungkook in his usual spot. Even from several seats away, you could hear the heavy metal leaking from his headphones. He was doodling in his journal, completely oblivious to what was going on around him. Not like it would bother him all that much, anyway. The two of you had been teased about each other for years. Even Jungkook’s own mother joked around that the two of you would get married one day.

Jungkook had always been a part of your life; the younger, slightly shy brother of Jisoo. They lived down the street from you, and over the years you spent countless days riding bikes with them, attempting to play sports (although that usually ended in one of you crying), and playing hide and seek.

As you all got older, the playground had started to lose its magic. Jungkook, always eager to play you in Mario Kart, had upgraded to gaming online. You and Jisoo joined a new group of friends, and Jungkook never really fit in. You still spent time with him, especially since you were at the Jeon household practically every day. But you didn't talk to him all that much at school. Nevertheless, your classmates clearly still enjoyed teasing the two of you.

“I bet you guys make out to My Chemical Romance,” someone yelled out and another burst of laughter came from the back of the bus. You sighed and put your head against the window again, hoping that you would hit a particularly large pothole and scramble your brains.

BANG.

“Fuck me!” you groaned. You rubbed at the spot where your head had collided with the window of Jisoo’s car. Despite it being five years later, your morning routine hadn't changed all that much. You had upgraded from the bus to Jisoo’s car, but you still frequently fell asleep in the morning.

“Sorry, I didn't see that pothole,” Jisoo said, trying to conceal her laughter.

You rubbed your head groggily and sat up straighter in your seat. You were almost at school anyway.

“I miss the days when you’d gently shake me awake. You’ve elevated to straight up violence now.”

“It was an accident, I swear!” Jisoo exclaimed but then burst into laughter.

“You fucked up my drawing, Jisoo,” a voice groaned from the backseat. You’d almost forgotten that Jungkook was sitting in the back. You slept through the drive most mornings, and Jungkook rarely talked anyway. He was always doodling or messing around on his phone.

You turned to look at him and he slammed his notebook shut before you could see his drawing. He pulled his hood up around his head and sunk low into his seat, turning his music up louder.

As soon as Jisoo pulled into her parking spot, Jungkook grabbed his bag and bolted out the door, meeting up with his group of friends outside of the school.

Jisoo turned to you eagerly. “I have to tell you something.”

You sighed and wrapped your earbuds up to put them in your bag. Jisoo was always sharing new exploits every other morning, and while you loved your friend a lot, you really didn’t love hearing about her romantic life. You were only halfway through the school year and Jisoo had already dated and dumped two boyfriends. She’d been dating the third one, Wooseok, for the past couple months and talked about him on a daily basis. Just last night you had sat on facetime with her for two hours as she talked about their last date together.

“Wooseok and I went all the way last night,” she blurted out. You whipped your head to the side to look at your best friend. She may have dated a lot of guys, but she’d never had sex with them. Her parents were very strict about that and fully expected Jisoo to wait until marriage. Jisoo didn’t even tell her family about her boyfriends; she waited until Jungkook left to tell you about them. Her various boyfriends were a secret, but even then she still hadn’t broken the rule about abstinence.

“I thought you were waiting until marriage?” you asked, trying to keep your jaw from dropping. You had no problem with your friend losing her virginity, but it all seemed so sudden. Jisoo did plenty of other things with her boyfriends over the years, but sex was the one thing that she hadn’t had the courage to do.

“I know I said that,” Jisoo spoke. “And I promise, I wasn’t expecting this. I really was planning on waiting! But it just sort of happened. I couldn’t even look my mom in the eye this morning.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, I went over to Wooseok’s house just to watch a movie. His parents were gone on a trip so we were alone. And then we started kissing and then his hands went to my—”

“Stop! I don’t need that much detail, oh my god!” You yelled.

Jisoo laughed and then apologized, getting out of the car so that both of you could head to class.

“So is Wooseok the one?” you asked. “I mean, you’ve been alone with guys before. Why Wooseok?”

“Y/N, I really like him. He feels like no other boyfriend I've had before. He really cares about me. I don’t know how else to explain it but...after we finished we both fell asleep. And when I woke up a little while later, I laid there for an hour watching him sleep. It felt so right, being there with him.”

You smiled, happy for your friend. She was positively glowing, and you’d never seen her this excited about a guy before. She’d had her fair share of whirlwind romances that eventually failed, but you had a feeling this one might actually last.

“So did it hurt?” you asked her as you spun the passcode into your lock. She leaned on the locker next to yours and bit her lip.

“It hurt a little bit at first, but he went really slow. It just felt like there was a lot of pressure down there.”

You nodded and opened your locker, grabbing your books for your first few classes. Jisoo continued talking but you’d already let your mind wander. As curious as you were about sex, you didn’t feel like getting an entire lesson from your best friend, despite how much you loved her. You were thinking about what you were going to have for lunch as the two of you walked to first period statistics.

“—you going to start dating?”

“What?” Your attention snapped back to Jisoo.

Jisoo sighed. “Y/N, you’ve never even gone on a date before! Wooseok has a friend who’s single and he seems nice!”

“I’ve gone on a date before,” you said defensively.

“Going to the movies with Jackson when you were 13 doesn’t count. Don’t you want to be kissed? Hold hands with someone and look into their eyes and know they care about you?”

“I can hold hands with my friends.” You shifted your books to one arm and then grabbed Jisoo’s hand. “Look, I’m doing it right now.”

Jisoo rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away. “You know what I mean. Don’t you want to love someone romantically?”

You definitely wanted to, but you’d never found someone you were interested in that way. There were a few guys over the years who showed interest, but you were never interested enough to reciprocate. Besides, you were too busy with school anyway. You didn’t have the time or patience to learn everything about someone new.

“I’m doing just fine,” you huffed and sat down in your seat when you both got to the classroom. Sure, you would love to have a boyfriend who would hold your hand and play with your hair. You wanted to finally have your first kiss. You were 17 years old and the farthest you’d gone with a guy was pushing Jungkook into the bushes while playing tag.

“Okay, whatever you say. But if you ever wanna meet Wooseok’s friend, I can get his number!” Jisoo said excitedly right before your instructor entered the room. She turned around to face the front and you tapped your pen against your desk. Would you really be willing to date someone you didn’t even know? That seemed like too much effort.

The topic left your mind as soon as your instructor started writing equations on the board. You had far more important things to worry about than your non-existent love life.

By the time lunch came around, you were positively starving and the conversation with Jisoo had long left your mind. You and Jisoo usually sat together at lunch, but she had snuck off with Wooseok after second period and you hadn’t seen her since. Your other close friend, Jimin, was nowhere to be found. And most of your group of friends were all away on a band trip, which meant you had no one to sit with today. You were scanning the cafeteria when you spotted Jungkook sitting alone with earbuds in. You didn’t usually sit with Jungkook since he was in the grade below you and therefore in a different social circle. But it looked like both of you had been ditched for lunch, and you wanted someone to keep you company.

You gave Jungkook a little wave when he looked up from his food, and he smiled and waved you over. He took his earbuds out before you got to the table, and when you sat down he asked, “Jisoo ditch you?”

“Yeah, maybe she’s working on homework.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and laughed. “Oh, please. Which guy is it this time?”

Despite Jisoo’s attempts to keep her boyfriends a secret from her family, Jungkook wasn’t an idiot. He could see her giggling around guys at school, and you always had a feeling he knew.

“I don’t know him all that well,” you said with a shrug.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows but then started eating, letting the subject drop.

“I finally beat level 75 yesterday,” he said. You perked up, remembering the game that he’d been playing for months. You sometimes sat with him and watched him play, occasionally grabbing the controller to help him beat a level when you couldn’t stand watching his character die one more time.

“That’s amazing! That level took you so long.”

“It did, but I finally figured out how to beat it.” He smiled wide. “I didn’t even need your help this time.”

“Only because I taught you all you know.”

Jungkook barked a laugh. “Ha, you wish!”

“I am and always will be the superior gamer, whether you like it or not.” Your stomach growled, and you focused your attention on eating your meal before lunch was over.

“I’ve missed you,” Jungkook said softly.

You looked up from your pudding in surprise and blinked at him.

“I mean I miss having lunch with you.” He blushed. “Remember when we were younger and you always stole my pudding?” he asked and pointed at your spoon.

You smiled at the memory. “I always took it when you weren’t looking.”

“I let you steal it, just so you know.”

“You just don’t want to admit that I was able to take it without you noticing!”

“I resent that and I want you to leave this table right now.”

You giggled and then offered your spoon to him. “A peace offering.”

You were holding the spoon with pudding out, expecting him to either take it or reject it. But he stunned you by bending over and eating the pudding off the spoon as you were holding it. His tongue flicked out to lick the pudding off his lips when he was finished, and your stomach lurched as you stared at him, mesmerized.

“Fine, I guess you can stay,” he said.

You nearly dropped the spoon. Since when did Jungkook shake you up like that?

You hid the slight trembling of your hands by busying yourself with looking through your textbook. Jungkook flipped his notebook open and started drawing. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence while you both worked. You began highlighting your class reading as you ate, and the soft scratching of Jungkook’s pencil on paper was peaceful among the chaos of the cafeteria.

After a little while, a pair of hands covered your eyes; you swatted them away, knowing exactly who it was. Jimin sat down next to you, his eyes bright and a big smile on his face.

“I spent several minutes looking around the cafeteria for you,” he said, taking his lunch out of his bag and settling in.

“Everyone disappeared, so Jungkook and I banded together. I figured you were off making out with Yugyeom under the bleachers or something.”

“No, he didn't come to school today.” Jimin shrugged and then looked at Jungkook. “How you been, Jeon?”

“Not bad.”Jungkook continued sketching in his notebook, but he looked up to give Jimin a nod.

Out of all of your friends, Jimin had always been the one most willing to get to know Jungkook. While most of your other friends ignored Jungkook when they went over to Jisoo’s house, Jimin had no problem with letting him join in on whatever you all were doing. You wouldn’t exactly consider Jimin and Jungkook close friends, but they were at least friendly toward each other.

“What are you drawing?” Jimin pointed at Jungkook’s notebook, and Jungkook flipped it around so you could both see. He was incredibly talented, but both of you had to stop yourselves from laughing at the fact that it was a drawing of a skull.

“Still listening to Fall Out Boy?” Jimin joked.

“Fuck off, Park.” Jungkook pulled his notebook back toward him. “They’re a good band,” he said under his breath.

“I love your drawings,” you offered, not wanting the whole lunch to be Jungkook and Jimin bickering back and forth. “How do you decide what to draw?”

Jungkook shrugged, not looking up from the drawing he was working on. “I just draw whatever interests me in the moment.”

“Like what?” you asked, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Sometimes I draw cool things like this, things that I’d like to see on shirts or something. Other times I just draw things that make me happy, things I want to keep looking at.”

“I bet his notebook is full of boobs,” Jimin inserted. Jungkook threw a wadded up napkin at him.

“No, I’m normal and store my porn on my laptop.”

“That’s the only way you ever get any action,” Jimin replied.

Jungkook looked like he was ready to jump over the table and hit Jimin.

“We can’t all be international playboys,” you said. “Or playgirls? Is that a thing?”

Jungkook and Jimin both shrugged.

“I’ve never actually seen you with a girl before, Jungkook. Have you ever dated?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. You had been painfully single your whole life, but it would surprise you if Jungkook was in the same situation. He had those boy next door looks that would make most people weak in the knees.

“Not really,” Jungkook mumbled and then grabbed his empty water bottle. “I’ve gotta go refill this.” He got up and left before you could respond.

“Do you really think he’s never been with anyone?” you pondered as Jungkook walked off.

“Trust me, Y/N, that boy is a virgin.” Jimin took a bite out of your sandwich, his own lunch forgotten. “Wanna see if his notebook really is full of boobs?”

You laughed but then eyed Jungkook’s notebook. He rarely showed you his work, and you were curious to see more of it. You didn’t really expect to find nudes in there, but you wanted to see some of his other drawings.

Pulling his notebook toward both of you, you opened it and started flipping through the pages. You saw drawings of trees and random objects, all very beautiful but nothing out of the ordinary. And then you saw a flash of hair and flipped back to that page, pausing.

“Is that you?” Jimin asked.

In the drawing, you were sitting at the Jeon’s kitchen table with a pen in your mouth as you looked down at your schoolwork. Your hair hid most of your face, but you knew it was you because of the outfit and the small crescent moon necklace that he’d drawn hanging from your neck.

“Why would Jungkook draw me studying at his house?” you questioned.

“Maybe he was running out of ideas of what to draw?” Jimin replied with a small shrug.

You flipped to the next page, and there you were again, eyes bright and mouth open in a roaring laugh, hand hovering near your mouth to cover it.

“Is that from a few days ago?” Jimin asked. “You just wore that top earlier this week.”

Your stomach lurched and you didn’t know how to respond. You flipped to the page right before his current one, and this one made your breathing halt.

In it, you were sleeping, your eyes closed and your lips slightly open. Light from the window of Jisoo’s car fell on your face, and your hand cradled your head where it leaned upon the window. It was incredibly soft, with so much detail that you could even see the small imperfections on your face. A line ran from one side of the page to the other, most likely from when Jisoo hit the pothole in the road. But other than that, the drawing was beautiful. And it definitely wasn’t something that one friend drew of another. It was intimate, a view of you that no one usually paid attention to. The softness of the lines, especially the intricate details of your lips, suggested that Jungkook had put a lot of love into this drawing.

Wait, love? There was no way Jungkook had feelings for you. Sure, you’d been teased as kids. And you always thought that maybe Jungkook had had feelings for you back when you were younger. But many years had passed, and childhood crushes rarely lasted. You were like family to the Jeons, and you never even imagined that Jungkook might like you as more than just a friend.

“That’s…” Jimin trailed off, not knowing what to say. These weren’t the sort of drawings one friend drew of another.

You flipped his notebook back to his current page and pushed it back into place, not wanting him to know that you and Jimin had looked through it.

“What do you think they mean?” you asked, turning to Jimin. He looked just as lost as you, his skin turning pale as he stared at the table.

“I don’t know.” He looked up at you and then you saw his eyes shift. You turned and saw Jungkook walking back.

You went back to reading your textbook and Jimin finished eating your sandwich as Jungkook came back to the table and sat down. Jungkook attempted to pick up conversation again, but both of you were so wrapped up in your own things that he ended up returning to his drawing, a silence around your table like a bubble that was about to burst.

Later that night, you stared up at the ceiling while you were in bed. The moonlight softly lit up your ceiling, and you remembered how soft the light was on your face in Jungkook’s drawing. You’d been up for hours, unable to fall asleep.

It was late, but you texted Jimin to see if he was still up. He replied back right away and then you pressed the call button, listening to it ring before his soft voice picked up on the other side of the line.

“Everything okay?” he asked. He sounded groggy, and you wondered if you had actually woken him up with your text.

“I can’t stop thinking about those drawings,” you confessed.

Jimin went silent on the other end. You pulled your phone away from you, wondering if he had hung up.

“It was a little weird that he had so many drawings of you, but I don’t think you should worry about it,” he finally replied.

“I’m not worrying,” you said. “I just…can’t stop thinking about it. Why was he drawing me, of all people? Surely he has a crush that he could draw instead, or even a celebrity idol.”

“Maybe he has a whole notebook of Sunmi drawings and was tired of drawing her.” Jimin yawned.

“A whole notebook of Gashina?” you giggled but then your smile slowly faded. “Jimin, do you think Jungkook might have a crush on me?”

Jimin went silent again, this time longer than before. You began to wonder if he’d fallen asleep, but then he finally answered. “It’s possible, I guess.”

Now that you thought about it, there were some moments between you and Jungkook that were a little suspicious. The fact that you’d find him looking at you sometimes when he thought you didn’t know, the slight blush that would creep up his neck when people would tease you two, the fact that he would put his hand on your lower back sometimes when he had to reach around you. Thinking about it now, it seemed as if Jungkook sometimes tested the waters to see how you felt, and other times he stayed shy and kept his feelings to himself. You never reacted, so he never shared his feelings outright.

It definitely made a lot of sense, but the idea made you start to sweat. It was winter, and snow started to fall outside your window, glinting off the last of the moonlight peeking through the clouds. You fanned yourself, suddenly hot. Jungkook, the boy you’d known since you were a little kid, had a crush on you?

“I always thought he might’ve had a crush when we were younger, but we’re almost adults now. Surely he’d be over that?”

“Who knows, Y/N?” Jimin sounded bored.

You spent nearly every day over at the Jeon house, and even though you weren’t as close as before, you still knew Jungkook very well. You knew exactly how much cream he put in his coffee, you knew his twinkling laugh better than your own, you knew exactly when he would tilt his head in confusion or unsureness, and you could even tell where he was just by listening for his sniffles.

“There's no way I haven't picked up on the fact that he likes me,” you whispered mostly to yourself, turning over in your bed. But when you looked at the facts, it all seemed so clear now.

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Jimin asked. “It’s not like you like him. So what if he still has a crush?”

Did you like Jungkook? You couldn’t deny that the idea of Jungkook having a crush on you made your heart flutter. Growing up, you’d always thought you’d fall for a friend. Was that friend possibly Jungkook?

You chewed your bottom lip and turned to look at the snow falling outside your window. You knew Jungkook like the back of your hand. Falling into a relationship with him would be easy, if not seamless. You’d never let it interfere with your friendship before, but Jungkook was very attractive. His eyes were always bright and wondrous, and his smile made him look like a bunny. Just the thought of his big teeth and loud laugh had you smiling to yourself in the soft moonlight.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you finally responded, realizing you’d never answered Jimin. “Anyway, it’s late. I should let you sleep.”

“Get some rest, Y/N,” Jimin said softly and then your phone went dark.

You hugged your pillow close to you and sighed. Now that the idea had popped into your head, you couldn’t stop thinking about what dating Jungkook would be like. Was it only interesting because you thought he liked you now? Was it just because you felt pressured to finally have your first kiss, finally have a boyfriend? Your feelings were so confusing and mixed up, and you didn’t quite understand how you felt.

All you knew was that the little scar on his cheek made a part of you ache. You were the one who gave it to him almost a decade ago, accidentally including ice in the snowball that you had thrown at him one winter. You’d always felt sorry for permanently marking his face, but he didn’t seem to mind. And that scar had become a part of him, a feature of his face that you could no longer imagine him without. You wanted to run your finger across it, trace it until you knew the feeling by heart, and you wanted nothing more than to softly brush your lips against it.

Thoughts like these kept crossing your mind, so much so that it made it hard to spend time with Jungkook. Your eyes kept dropping to his lips, and your fingers twitched to wrap themselves around his. It was becoming harder and harder to just be friends with him.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, each night his face popped up in your dreams. You would wake up every morning with a faint impression of Jungkook’s lips on your own. You had to do something about this crush soon or you were going to go crazy.

“Did Jungkook do something to you?” Jisoo asked one afternoon while the two of you were studying.

“No, why?” You looked up from your schoolwork.

“You've been avoiding him like the plague. Something seems off.” Jisoo narrowed her eyes.

“Nothing happened!” you said a little too forcefully. “In fact, I was gonna see if he wanted to play a video game once I finished my homework since you're leaving to meet with Wooseok.”

Jisoo nodded, seemingly content with your lie.

The two of you went back to working silently for a while longer, and then Jisoo got a text on her phone. She slammed her book shut and leapt out of her seat.

“Wooseok is here, I've gotta go. Don't have too much fun while I'm gone!” She bounced off and you heard the door shut behind her.

You contemplated grabbing your things and leaving as well. But you’d told Jisoo that you were going to spend some time with Jungkook. Would she ask later?

You could hear Jungkook playing a game downstairs in the basement, and you took a deep breath and went to walk down the stairs. You could stand spending an hour with him, right? Just be normal. He'd been your friend for years, nothing was different.

Except for the fact that now you wanted to trail kisses along his jawline.

Jungkook looked up from his game when he heard you walk in.

“Y/N, I thought you'd left.”

“That was Jisoo leaving. She’s going to, uh, meet with her tutor.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitched into a smile but he didn't say anything.

“Do you mind if I join you?” you asked, pointing to the empty spot on the sofa next to him.

“Not at all.” Jungkook moved over to give you a little more room. When you sat down, he handed you a controller.

“What game are we playing?” you asked, trying to stop your voice from shaking.

“I’m thinking that I'd really like to win, and I know I always kick your ass at Mario Kart.” Jungkook smiled.

“Bullshit!” you yelled, nerves forgotten. “I always beat you!”

“Prove it, hotshot,” he replied.

Several wins later, Jungkook was getting increasingly irritable. He didn't like losing, and it was clear by how he kept shifting in his seat. You were close to the finish line once again, but Jungkook shifted so suddenly that it threw you off balance and you dropped your controller, giving him just enough time to pass you and finally win a game.

“You're such a cheater!” You yelled, dropping your control to the floor again.

“I didn't cheat. It's not my fault you don't know how to hold onto your controller.”

“You knocked me off balance! That was totally on purpose!”

Jungkook just smirked, and you pushed him over so that he almost fell off the sofa.

“Hey, that's not nice!” Jungkook sat up and then lunged at you, tickling you under your arms. This always made you scream, and you started squirming away from him. “Admit that you hate losing,” Jungkook demanded. His tickling was relentless, and tears of laughter started leaking out of your eyes.

“Never, you cheater!” you giggled out and then fell off the sofa. Jungkook tumbled down with you, and you ended up on the floor sprawled out under him.

He’d stopped tickling you and was looking down at you, a blush creeping up his neck. He was leaning on his elbow, and most of his body was pressed against your own. Other than the times you would tackle each other as kids, you’d never been this close to Jungkook, especially not recently.

Neither of you moved, and you could feel Jungkook breathing against you. He licked his lips, and your eyes shot immediately down to them and stayed there. Encouraged by your stare, Jungkook bent down slowly and you closed your eyes. Were you really going to let Jungkook kiss you? Oh god, you wanted to feel his lips against your own.

As you lay on the floor, hair fanned out around you and a firm body pressed up against your own, you felt his breath softly touch your face. And then Jungkook’s lips touched yours gently, almost hesitantly. You didn’t quite know what to do at first, but then your instincts kicked in and you slowly put your hand on his face and moved it into his hair, wrapping your fingers around his strands.

You’d imagined your first kiss countless times, and recently you’d imagined kissing Jungkook more than you’d care to admit. In fact, you kissed him every night in your dreams, but nothing could compare to the feeling of actually having his soft, warm lips pressed up against your own.

You got a little too excited and lifted your head up to deepen the kiss, but you ended up bumping your forehead into his own with an audible thump.

“Ow, Y/N! If you didn’t want me to kiss you, you should’ve just said so. No need to resort to violence.” Jungkook pulled away and rubbed his forehead.

You sat up, embarrassed but still buzzing from the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I didn’t mean to! I’ve just...I’ve never really kissed anyone before and I got excited.”

Jungkook looked at you now, incredulous. “You’ve never kissed anyone before? How? You’re insanely hot.”

“Believe it or not, Jungkook, I don’t exactly have a bunch of guys lining up to kiss me.”

“I’ve been lined up since I was a kid,” he said softly. “You just haven’t really noticed.”

Silence filled the air for a few moments as you both looked at each other. Then you slowly leaned forward, and before your lips brushed against his you said, “I’m noticing now.”

You kissed him then, and you slowly fell backward as he leaned on top of you again, deepening the kiss. He tasted like candy and smelled like clean sheets. After a few moments, Jungkook pulled back.

“I just have to know, what made you start noticing me? You’ve been acting kind of weird around me for the past couple weeks and I couldn’t figure out why.”

You didn’t want to tell Jungkook that you’d be snooping in his notebook, but you also didn’t want to lie to him. You figured you were better off telling him the truth and hoping that he didn’t get upset.

“I accidentally saw your drawings,” you said. Jungkook looked confused, so you continued. “The drawings of me.”

Realization dawned on his face. “You must think I’m so weird,” he groaned.

“No! I thought it was really sweet; it’s what made me start looking at you differently.”

“So you…actually like me?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I do.”

Jungkook’s face lit up, and he smiled his bunny smile that you adored so much.

“Do you maybe want to go on a date some time?” he asked, shy but excited.

You bit your lip, thinking. Jungkook was your childhood friend. Not only that, he was the younger brother of your best friend. Dating him could make things really weird. But you'd already kissed him, and you wanted to try this out. Jisoo couldn't fault you for trying.

“I would love that.”

You couldn’t see your face in that moment, but Jungkook memorized it perfectly and drew it out. It was intricate and beautiful, a drawing filled with so much young love and adoration that it brought tears to your eyes when he gave it to you later. You were absolutely beaming in the drawing, eyes bright and shining.

After that afternoon full of sloppy kissing in the basement, you and Jungkook had started spending nearly every day together. You went on a date within the first few days; just as you’d expected, it was far easier dating someone you already liked than someone new.

You thought things might be awkward, but despite a few fumbling kissing sessions, you and Jungkook fell into a rhythm quite easily. You had tried to hide your relationship for the first week, but it became too difficult. Jungkook always wanted to be touching you, as if he needed to feel you by his side in order to believe that you were real. When you’d watch tv with him while Jisoo was out with her boyfriend, he would hold your hand and draw circles on your palm. You’d eventually rest your head in his lap and he’d play with your hair and sing softly under his breath.

You decided that weekend to say something while you were having dinner at the Jeon household.

“Oh, how exciting!” their mom said and clapped her hands together, pleased with this new development. Their father just nodded once, approving of your match. Jisoo’s reaction, however, surprised you.

“It’s about fucking time,” she said.

“Jisoo, language!” said their mom.

“Oh, sorry. I just mean it’s about time they finally dated. Jungkook’s been crushing on her for years. And Y/N, you really needed a boyfriend.”

“I’ve been fine with being single, just like you.” You shot her a smile.

“Okay, fair enough!” she replied quickly, eager to change the topic. “Either way, I’m happy for you two. But if I find you two kissing in this household, I’m moving out.”

“I trust Y/N, she’s always been a very good girl,” their mother said.

You pinched your leg to keep yourself from laughing. More than half the time you spent with Jungkook was filled with kissing and hasty groping. But the Jeons didn’t need to know what you and Jungkook got up to together.

You were relieved that everything went so smoothly with the Jeons. But not all of your friends were instantly accepting of this new relationship. At lunch the next day, you waved Jungkook over so that he would sit down next to you. The table grew quiet. Aside from Jimin, none of your friends knew Jungkook all that well. And you’d never invited him to join you at lunch with them.

“Jungkook and I are dating now,” you said to fill the silence.

Yeri choked on her drink, bending over and coughing as Irene patted her back.

“Since when?” She finally said, still coughing a little.

“For around a week,” you replied. You started eating, eager to move on with the conversation. Jungkook started talking to your friends, trying to get to know them a little better.

Jimin stayed quiet until Jungkook got up to get a soda.

“Since when did you start liking Jungkook?” he asked.

You looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. Jimin almost sounded disgusted.

“Around the time we found those drawings.”

Jimin looked like he wanted to say something but then looked down at his noodles and stirred them slowly. “I just didn't know you liked him. Last time we talked about dating in high school, you said you wanted to focus on your work.”

“I did,” you confessed. “But it didn't mean I was never going to date. You guys date all the time.” You looked around the table. “Jisoo has had like 10 boyfriends already, Yeri and Irene have had boyfriends for the past 2 years. And you have been with Yugyeom for months.”

Jimin nodded, still not looking up from his noodles. You didn't understand why he was seemingly so annoyed with you having a boyfriend. Unless…

“Do you like Jungkook?” you asked.

Jimin finally looked up, his eyes wide. “Y/N, are you really suggesting that I'm jealous that you're dating that punk? I don’t date guys like that.”

You blushed, feeling bad. “I just feel like maybe you're not happy with all of this,” you mumbled.

“I want you to be happy, Y/N. This thing with Jungkook just seems a little sudden. You deserve to be treated like a princess.”

“Don't worry, Jimin. He's plenty sweet to me.”

Jungkook returned, swinging his leg around the chair and slipping his arm around your waist as he drank his soda.

Jimin didn’t talk the rest of lunch, busying himself with schoolwork so that you all left him alone.

Your friends never quite warmed up to Jungkook, but they were nice enough. You started splitting up the week, half of the time sitting with your group of friends, the other half sitting with Jungkook’s. Whenever you sat at his table, you could feel eyes burning into the back of your head. But when you turned around, your friends were laughing and eating as per usual.

Jungkook would grab your hand when he'd notice you zoning out and give it a squeeze, smiling at you with his bunny smile.

Most of the time you’d been together had been filled with cute texts back and forth, hand holding, and back hugs in the school hallway. Since he was your first boyfriend, you wanted to take things slowly. You’d kissed plenty of times, but you hadn’t gone much further than wandering hands while kissing.

Jungkook was fine going slow, especially when you told him that you weren’t ready for that and you weren’t sure when you would be. Your hormones were going wild, for sure, but you didn’t want to rush into things.

But after several weeks of dating, you were finding it harder and harder to keep your hands off of Jungkook.

“Happy two month anniversary!” Jungkook said when you opened your door. He’d brought you flowers and chocolate, and you laughed at how ridiculous he was being. When you’d invited him over for your “anniversary” dinner, you had been joking about the anniversary part.

“We don’t have to celebrate every month we’re together, you know,” you said, kissing him on the cheek and letting him in. Your parents were out of town, so you had the house to yourself.

“Every moment with you is special.” Jungkook winked.

The two of you sat down to watch a film after dinner, but the movie soon became forgotten as Jungkook started kissing your neck. You turned to him, capturing his lips with your own. By now, you’d gotten the hang of kissing, and you climbed into Jungkook’s lap to straddle him. He pulled you closer to him and you slipped your tongue out to lick his bottom lip. He opened his mouth, letting your tongue finally meet his. His hands travelled up your bare thighs, leaving trails of heat behind them. You panted, thinking they were going to go under your skirt, but Jungkook slid them up to your hips instead and then wrapped them around your ass, kneading softly and pulling you even closer to him. Your center throbbed and you started rubbing yourself against him, desperate for friction.

Jungkook pulled away and moaned. “You’re killing me.”

“Am I hurting you?” you asked, worried that you’d done something wrong. You started to move off of him but Jungkook gripped you harder, keeping you in place. It was then that you noticed that you were sitting on something very hard, and you began to blush.

“If you keep moving your hips like that, I’m gonna go insane,” he said. His eyes were squeezed shut and he looked like he was in pain.

You slowly shifted your hips again and he hissed. Pleasure shot up through your core, making your lower stomach ache in the best way possible.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, smirking, swirling your hips around. Your skirt had pushed up your thighs, and your underwear was almost peeking out at this point.

“It feels too good, Y/N.”

You ground your hips into his again and he moaned deep in his throat. His sounds coupled with the friction of his hard dick against your clit made you gasp, and you started moving back and forth more quickly. You were no stranger to touching yourself, but having Jungkook underneath you felt better than you could’ve imagined.

Your heavy breathing turned into moans that joined Jungkook’s, and he held onto your hips and moved you back and forth faster, eager to hear more moans leave your lips.

“God, you look so hot like this,” Jungkook groaned. You squeezed your eyes shut, lost in the feeling of Jungkook’s hands on your hips as he helped you grind on him. Your moans grew louder and your breathing picked up its pace. Jungkook gripped your hips harder and then slowed you down, drawing out the thrusts so that your breathing stuttered. You rested your head on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hair and pulling before he started to pick the pace up again. The pressure continued to build as your breathing got more shallow, and you squeezed your thighs around him.

He let one hand push your shirt up, finally landing on your bra. He fumbled with the clasp for a few seconds before you took your hand from his hair and helped him unclasp it. You let your bra slip down, and Jungkook finally cupped one of your breasts.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered. He swirled his fingers around your nipple and then ran his thumb over it. Your rocking became frantic, and he leaned down and looked up at you between his eyelashes before he licked your nipple and started sucking on it. A low moan came from his throat and the sensory overload finally pushed you over the edge.

You came with a loud moan, legs shaking as you sloppily rocked your hips against him while you rode out your orgasm. Jungkook held you closer to him and kissed the top of your head, brushing back the hair stuck to your face. You stayed lying against him until your breathing evened out.

When you finally pulled back, you saw that Jungkook’s eyes were glazed over with lust. The tightness in his pants had gotten more obvious, and Jungkook seemed to be having a hard time keeping his composure.

“I think I need to, uh, go to the bathroom,” he said and moved you off of his lap. Before he got up you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“I can help you with that,” you told him.

His eyes grew bigger and his tongue jutted out to wet his lips.

“You really don’t have to,” he said, but his breathing was ragged and he gasped when you tugged at his belt. You started unbuckling it slowly, hands shaking at what you were about to do. “Oh my god, can you do that any slower?” Jungkook almost whined, acting as if he were in pain.

“I thought I didn’t have to?” you joked.

He started to sit up. “I really meant it, you don’t have to if you don’t want to!”

You chuckled and pushed him back down. “I’m only joking, I want to do this. You want me to, right?”

Jungkook nodded eagerly and you smiled at how excited he was. You finally got his belt undone and slid the zipper down his pants. He moved his hips to help shift his pants down and then you fingered the waistband of his boxers, running your hands along the skin there.

“Are you trying to torture me?” he could barely talk now, his voice coming out rough and choppy as if he could barely breathe.

You finally inched his boxers down so that you could slip your hand in, and Jungkook groaned as you wrapped your hand around his cock and pulled it out. You had only seen dicks in porn before, and you had always been told that porn stars set unrealistic expectations. But Jungkook was very well endowed. Your eyes widened as you worried about how you would fit him in your mouth.

A little bit of precum leaked from the tip, and before you could second guess yourself, you bent your head down and licked it off the tip, tasting him on your tongue. Jungkook moaned louder than ever, throwing his head back.

You’d never done this before, but you’d watched enough porn to understand the basics. You wrapped your hand around his base and then ran your tongue from base to tip.

“Cover your teeth with your lips, babe,” he groaned from above. You did as he said and then took him into your mouth slowly, feeling his hard length pushing against your tongue. You could only fit the tip in at first, but Jungkook’s muttered curses from above confirmed that whatever you were doing felt good. You breathed out of your nose and then bobbed your head up and down, slowly taking in more of his dick as you went. You were afraid of going too fast, not wanting to trigger your gag reflex.

Jungkook went nearly silent above you, and you looked up to see that he was biting his lip, a thick vein protruding from his neck. Almost as if he sensed that you were looking at him, he locked eyes with you and then let go of his lip as he moaned your name. He wove his fingers into your hair, feeling your head moving up and down.

“A-are you s-sure you’ve never done this b-before?” Jungkook stuttered.

You remembered your hands and started moving them around his dick in sync with your mouth.

“Y/N, your mouth f-feels so good, fuck.”

Jungkook’s hips started moving up to meet you. He wrapped his fingers in your hair, helping guide your head down lower, and you opened your mouth wider to fit more of him in. Eager to make him cum, you took him farther down, but you went a little farther than you expected. Your eyes widened as your throat closed around him, your gag reflex kicking in. You pulled away suddenly, shocked by your body’s natural response.

It wasn’t a moment too soon. Your tightening throat had been just enough to tip Jungkook over the edge, and as you pulled away he came. You fumbled to put your hands back on his dick, jerking up and down to help guide him through his orgasm.

Both of you stayed still for a few moments, pants filling the air. Jungkook finally let go of your hair and looked down at you with a grin on his face.

“Fuck, that thing you did at the end drove me wild.”

“I was choking on your dick!” you yelled out and then started laughing hysterically. Jungkook tried to keep a straight face, but soon enough he joined you in your laughter.

“You mean you didn’t want to choke on my dick?” he asked in between his laughter.

“Believe it or not, that was not intentional.” The two of you fell into each other, laughing so hard that you could no longer talk.

You stayed like that for a few more moments before the laughter slowed down, and then you rested your head on his chest and sighed contentedly.

“So how was I?” you asked.

“I’m going to be thinking about that for the rest of my life,” he answered.

You curled up closer to him and smiled softly. “There will be plenty more, no worries.”

And there were, but after a certain point they lost their thrill. Jungkook was safe, the boy you'd known practically your whole life. You knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. Aside from the occasional blowjob, makeout sessions, and constant affection, life with Jungkook hadn’t changed all that much.

And neither, when you thought about it, had your feelings. You cared about Jungkook, definitely. And he was very cute. But the more time you spent with him, the more you questioned why you liked him in the first place. You thought these doubts would've disappeared once you two started dating, but they only increased with time.

A few weeks later, he wrapped his arms around your waist as you were standing next to your locker talking to Yeri. He nuzzled his face in your neck and you eventually pushed him away, acting like you needed to get into your locker. He left with a quick kiss, and Yeri looked in between you two as he walked away.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked, chewing on her gum.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have anything to get from your locker; you just grabbed your books.”

You shrugged. “I don’t like PDA.”

“Bullshit,” she said. “When you first got together you were always touching each other in public, it was almost nauseating.”

You gnawed at your lip. “We’ve been dating for a few months now, the honeymoon phase is over.”

Yeri blew a bubble and let it pop. “Zico and I have been dating for years and I still jump on him every time I see him.”

You slammed your locker shut and headed to class, ending the conversation.

Doubts nagged at you, but you didn’t quite want to face the truth yet. If you just had more time and space, you could figure out your feelings.

You were relieved when you received a letter in the mail from your university later that week. You had already been accepted, but they were inviting you back to tour the residence halls and sit in some classes. You'd already decided to go there, but some time away might help clear your head. Besides, you wanted to see what kinds of dorms they had to offer.

“Text me as soon as you get there.” Jungkook hugged you and kissed the top of your head.

“Of course.” You pulled away and gave him a smile before getting on the train.

You texted him once you arrived on campus, but you also let him know that your schedule was very busy and you wouldn’t have much time to talk.

The university had paired you with a student named Yoona. You would be able to live in her dorm for a couple days, go to class with her, and go through the various buildings and residence halls.

Just sitting in a classroom brought a smile to your face. In less than half a year you would be an actual student here. There was a sense of independence walking through the buildings that you'd never experienced before.

On your second day, you woke up and rubbed your eyes. Yoona was already gone, a faint smell of coffee lingering in the air. You grabbed your schedule and saw that you were supposed to go to the Student Commons. There, a student guide would bring you around to the other residence halls so you could decide where you wanted to live next year.

You got ready, eating a quick breakfast so that you wouldn't be late. When you got to the Student Commons, you glanced around, hoping to find your guide. You expected to find some nerdy student waiting for you, blazer and glasses. Maybe a clipboard. Someone who probably took their job a little too seriously. But no one matched that mental image.

You looked down at your schedule again. You didn't have a name, so you had to hope they'd find you.

“You lost?” A voice came from behind you. You spun around, and a black haired man was standing in front of you. His head was cocked to the side, and a small smile was on his face. He was wearing black skinny jeans, and his hands were tucked into a dark gray hoodie. For reasons beyond your current understanding, you desperately wanted to brush out his tousled hair.

“U-um I'm waiting for my student guide?” It came out as a question. The way he was looking at you, a slight smirk on his face as if your nervousness amused him, made you even more nervous.

“Are you Y/N?” he asked. Your name had never sounded so nice. His voice was smooth but a little gravelly at the same time, such a beautiful mix of sweet and rugged that your hands started to shake.

“Yeah, that's me.”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Min Yoongi, I'm your guide for today.”

He motioned for you both to leave the building, and you followed silently as he lead you to the first residence hall. The silence was deafening, so you decided to start asking him questions. Plus, you wanted to know more about the university that you were going to spend the next four years at.

“What year are you in?”

Yoongi looked at his boots as he walked, so used to his surroundings that he knew the path by heart. “I’m a Sophomore right now.”

“I know you’re a guide so it’s not like you’re going to say anything bad about your school, but do you like it here?” you asked.

Yoongi nodded. “I’ve loved it here, I would never choose anywhere else.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” You looked around, taking in your surroundings. “This is a really big campus, do you ever get lost?”

Yoongi chuckled. “It definitely seems that way at first. I’ve been here for almost two years and sometimes I can get a little turned around when I’m dr—” He cleared his throat, thinking better of the end of that sentence. “When I’m tired.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I’d imagine walking to your dorms after a night of partying could result in getting lost.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m a very dedicated student who does not condone unnecessary partying,” Yoongi said with a wink.

“What are you majoring in?”

“I'm a music theory and comp major,” he responded, walking backwards in front of you so that he could look at you.

“What are you going to do after you graduate?”

“I want to go into producing.” His fingers twitched as if he wanted to get his hands on his equipment right then.

“That's really cool,” you said. “I didn't realize they did that here.”

“Yeah, they have a really nice studio in the arts building.” He turned around and opened the door to the first residence hall. “That's actually why I came to college. Some of my friends thought I was stupid for going to college for a music degree. But I never would've had access to this sort of equipment if I didn't go here.”

You nodded your head, understanding. Your parents originally wanted you to go into medicine, but that wasn't your desired path. You appreciated when someone pursued something they wanted, instead of being pressured by someone else’s wants or expectations.

The longer you spent with Yoongi, the more comfortable you became. A nervous energy still buzzed throughout you, making your laughs more boisterous and your voice louder, but it became easier to talk to him. You found yourself clinging to every word he said, his voice pouring into you like smooth honey, coating itself around your sparking nerves.

As you walked around campus, a smile spread itself across your face and you couldn't contain it. The plush green lawn, the buildings full of years of history, and the winding walkways all felt like home to you. You could see yourself standing right here, backpack slung over your shoulder, talking to classmates. You had taken this trip as an excuse to get some space, but now you were glad that you had come because for the first time ever, you were genuinely excited to go away to college.

At the end of the tour, Yoongi guided you back to your temporary residence hall. “I hope I can see you around next year,” he said.

“I hope so too.” You waved him off and then went up to your dorm, pulling out your phone to check your messages. Nothing from Jungkook. This surprised you, but you weren't complaining.

Yoona’s door was open and you gave her a smile as you entered and plopped down on your bed. You dialed Jisoo’s number, wanting to hear your best friend’s voice.

“I bet you've made so many new friends,” Jisoo said with a sigh as she picked up the phone. You thought about Yoongi, remembering the smile and wave he gave you at the end of the tour. Yoona was tapping away on her laptop, humming softly. While you knew you wouldn’t be rooming with Yoona, this already felt like home. The students that you’d met so far treated you as if you were one of them already. The idea of staying up as late as you wanted, eating whatever you wanted, and doing whatever you wanted was so exciting that you couldn’t wait for your first year to begin.

“None as great as you,” you replied. “How’s Jungkook been, by the way?”

You could hear her shifting in her bed, probably rolling over and hanging her head over the end like she always did. “He’s been really quiet, just playing lots of games. I think he misses you but he hasn’t really talked about it.”

You were relieved to hear that Jungkook hadn’t been too upset with you gone. With how affectionate he was whenever you spent time with him, you had wondered what it would be like spending even a few days away. You had seen Jungkook almost every single day of your life since you were a child.

“I’ll be coming home tomorrow,” you changed the topic, not wanting to get into your conflicted feelings about Jisoo’s brother with her.

“That’s perfect because I have an essay due in two days and I really need your help,” Jisoo said. You rolled your eyes and smiled. Even on the phone, Jisoo could still make you smile. You would miss her for sure, but you knew that you’d never miss her for very long. No matter how far away you were, Jisoo would always be there for you in one way or another.

You hugged your phone to your chest after you finished talking to Jisoo. Yoona picked up the bowl of popcorn next to her and held it out to you, offering.

“You’ll miss your friends in the beginning, but you make new ones quickly,” she said.

You ate a few pieces of popcorn before responding. “What about boyfriends?”

Yoona sat up in her bed and closed her laptop. “Do you have a boyfriend right now?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I tried long distance once,” Yoona sighed wistfully. “But the longer we were apart, the more I realized he didn’t really fit into my life anymore. So I dumped him.” She shrugged and took a handful of popcorn.

You sat in silence, unsure of how to respond. Was Jungkook going to fit into the life that you imagined for yourself at university?

Yoona sensed your growing doubt and rushed to continue, “I don’t mean to scare you! If you love him, I’m sure there’s a way you can work it out.”

Love? You cared about Jungkook, definitely. But you didn’t know if you could classify what you felt for Jungkook as love. In the platonic sense, maybe, but in the romantic sense? You weren’t so sure. People had been writing songs and poetry about love for years. Nothing you felt for Jungkook seemed like the kind of material for a love song.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” you mumbled, wanting to finish the conversation. Yoona seemed to take the hint and went back to working on her laptop.

That night, you mulled over your relationship with Jungkook as your roommate snored softly. You imagined your life here: late-night study sessions with loads of coffee, running to class so that you weren’t late, laughing with your friends in the cafeteria, messaging on your laptop while your professor thought you were taking notes. You’d seen all of this just in your short time staying here with Yoona, and you were excited to experience it all firsthand as an actual university student. But nowhere in your future did you see Jungkook in there as your boyfriend. He was a year behind you and planning on going to an art school, not your university.

As much as you cared about Jungkook, you had to accept the fact that he didn’t fit into your future. Not in the way that you had originally expected when you started dating him, at least.

You could see him in your life as a friend. But more than that seemed less and less likely.

And with this admission to yourself, you finally opened the floodgates to the rest of your feelings. Things with Jungkook had felt weird lately not just because you couldn’t see a future with him, but because with every touch you’d started to realize that Jungkook really was just a friend. You thought that with time you would understand your feelings better, and now you finally did. Jungkook was your friend: simple as that.

You started to write your breakup speech on the train ride home the next day. Jungkook had texted you that morning saying he wanted to see you, and your heart ached when you read it. Now that you finally understood how you felt, you needed to tell him. You couldn’t keep dragging him along knowing full well that your relationship was headed nowhere.

Jungkook, I’ve enjoyed these past several months with you. But spending some time away—

You deleted it, frustrated. It sounded terrible. You started a new draft, typing away in your phone’s notes.

I care about you a lot, and I liked being your girlfriend but—

No, no, no.

It’s not you, it’s me.

You almost threw your phone across the train.

Thankfully, a few hours and many miles later, you arrived home with what you hoped was the best way to break up with Jungkook.

Jungkook greeted you with a hug when you went over to his after dropping your things off at home. He seemed nervous, his hands shaking a little bit before he took yours and led you to his room. Had the short time away made him nervous around you?

You sat down in the chair across from his bed and crossed your legs, giving him a chance to sit down. You were nervous enough for the both of you. You really cared about Jungkook, and the last thing you wanted to do was break his heart.

You squeezed your eyes shut, building up the confidence to give him your speech.

“Jungkook, I think we should break up,” you blurted out. The hours of writing your speech flew out the window as you panicked, saying the first thing that came to mind.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, expecting him to look distraught.

Instead, he looked relieved. “Oh thank god,” he said.

“Wait, what?”

“I was going to say the same thing,” he confessed. He leaned forward, folding his hands around yours. “I really like you, but I think we’re better off as friends.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say! Stop stealing my lines!” you exclaimed.

“I had a whole speech planned out,” Jungkook said.

You nodded your head. “So did I, I spent the whole trip back writing it.”

“We could’ve saved some time and written it together,” Jungkook joked.

You laughed. Out of all the ways you’d expected this to go, you didn’t expect either of you to be cracking jokes so soon.

“But wait, what made you decide to break up with me?” you asked. “You were always so affectionate.”

“I did that because I thought that’s how a boyfriend should act,” he replied. “You know how we all had to read The Great Gatsby in freshman year?”

You nodded, not sure where he was headed with this train of thought.

“Remember how Gatsby builds up his love for Daisy for so many years, and once he finally sees her again it’s like reality can’t match up with his expectations?”

You remembered how much pressure Gatsby puts on their relationship, desperate to make it perfect. “It was really unfair to Daisy,” you replied.

“I think that’s what I did to you, and I’m really sorry.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to apologize, Jungkook. I had unrealistic expectations too. I didn’t really understand how I felt about you, but I walked into this relationship anyway.”

“We both fucked up a little bit, I think.”

“You live and you learn, right?” You both laughed awkwardly.

“I don’t regret any of this, though,” Jungkook said softly and squeezed your hands before letting go.

“Neither do I.” You smiled. Jungkook was your first of many, and while things didn’t work out with him, you wouldn’t have picked someone else to share those experiences with.

“Besides, you give really good head,” he said with a smirk.

“Jungkook!” you yelled, smacking him on the arm.

“You sure you don’t want to be friends with benefits?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“So help me god if you ever suggest that again, I’m never speaking to you for the rest of my life.”

Jungkook laughed so hard he nearly fell over, and you started giggling along with him.

“Friends?” he finally sat back up, holding his hand out to you. It was no longer trembling.

You grasped it firmly. “Friends.”

After, you stood outside of Jisoo’s door for a few minutes, debating on how to tell her that you’d just broken up with her brother. You finally built up the courage to knock on her door. She opened it and then squealed, pulling you into a hug and rocking you side to side while she talked about how much she missed you.

“Okay, so tell me all about it. What’s the campus like? Are there lots of cute boys there? Are the classes boring? What’s the dating scene like?”

“I thought you loved Wooseok?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“I do, but a girl always has to keep her options open,” Jisoo replied.

You smiled but then wet your lips, knowing you needed to tell her right now.

“Jisoo, Jungkook and I broke up.”

Jisoo’s jaw dropped. “What, right now? You only just got back! What did that little shit do now?!”

“He didn’t do anything!”

“Did you hurt my baby brother?” she asked, straightening her spine and locking eyes with you. You’d never seen Jisoo so angry with you.

“I didn’t hurt him,” you rushed to say. “We both agreed that we’re better off as friends. I’ll leave it at that.”

“Oh.” Jisoo relaxed. “Okay, as long as you’re both okay.”

“We decided it was for the best.”

Jisoo nodded, not seeming too surprised. Then she straightened up again, this time with a smile. “This means you’re single now, so were there any cute guys at your university?”

You rolled your eyes and threw a pillow at Jisoo, laughing. You could always count on your friend to make you smile no matter what.

You straightened the graduation cap on your head, nervous that it was going to fall off. Jisoo swatted your hand away, forcing you to stop.

“I did not spend an hour curling your hair and putting bobby pins in it for you to mess it up by moving your cap around endlessly.”

“I didn’t ask for you to do that for me.”

“It’s rude to turn down a gift,” Jisoo huffed. “And even ruder to mess it up, so stop.”

You started tapping your foot instead. You were among all your classmates, everyone milling around before the ceremony started. You were excited to finally graduate, but days like this always made you a little sad. They were an ending just as much as they were a new beginning.

Jisoo gave you a hug before you all lined up, and when it was your turn to be called you could hear your family and friends yelling from the crowd. You held your diploma, feeling the last of your childhood slipping through your fingers. From this day forward, you were an adult.

After the ceremony was over, Jungkook and the rest of the Jeon family were the first to reach you. Jungkook had two bouquets in his hands, and he handed one to Jisoo and one to you. He hugged you tight, picking you up off the ground and spinning you around before he set you back down.

“So how does it feel to be a university student now?” he asked.

“Everything and nothing feels the same,” you replied.

Things with Jungkook had pretty much gone right back to normal. Sometimes things would get awkward, especially if you’d accidentally bump into him while crossing paths, but for the most part you two had gone back to being friends.

“We have our whole lives ahead of us!” Jisoo yelled out, bouncing up and down. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face as she pulled you toward her and made you jump with her.

You, Jungkook, and Jisoo gathered together to take photos. You smiled wide, seeing your future in front of you as the flash went off. It was the end of a part of your life, but the beginning of another.

Just a few months later, you were hanging up pictures in your new dorm. You traced your finger over the three of you in your graduation photo, looking at how excited and nervous you were. You put more photos next to it, filling up your walls so that you would never forget your past. But you left plenty of room for future photos, excited to find out who and what moments would make up your university experience.

You smiled at the empty spots on your wall, knowing that they would eventually be filled up with your future. Your roommate looked at these deliberate empty spaces and cocked her head to the side.

“What are you expecting to put there?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea yet.” You looked at the gaps again before turning to give her a wink. “But that’s just part of the thrill, isn't it?”

Next Chapter

2K notes · View notes

bangtanata-blog · 6 years

Text

A way to a (deceased) man’s heart is: through his stomach

Rate T / Pair: JINKOOK / 3k words

Summary:

Kim Seokjin faces Death in the face, armed with food and cuddles.

The Ring!AU

Also available on AO3

It starts with the presence of a mysterious tape. You see, being a student in the theatre department, he’s a bit intrigued when he finds an old video tape in the library’s collection, especially to find it in the middle of many pristine new ones. He intends to ask the librarian about its contents, only to find out that the tape, labeled as JJK, is in fact doesn’t belong to the library.

Weird, he thinks, but interesting. Maybe someone dumps it here in hopes that nobody will find it—or that someone will find it? Nevertheless, he takes the tape home with him instead of offering it to the library. It could be a porn video for all he knows, and it would be awkward if they check. It’d be better if he checks it himself first.

The point is that he’s… intrigued, to say the least. He just wants to take a peek, perhaps, to find out what’s inside the tape before he throws it away or keeps it.

Hoseok, unfortunately, doesn’t really agree.

“Hyung, it has the word asylum on it!”

Seokjin blinks. “It does?” He turns the tape around, and there it is, faded but still legible: Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital. “Oh,” he blinks slowly, processing the new information. “So it’s not a sex tape, then.”

“Hyung!” Hoseok sounds indignant, squawking. Seokjin thinks if he’s not the older one here, the other would be cursing at him right now. “You have to throw it out right now!”

“Okay…” He trails off, furrowing his eyebrows as he stares at Hoseok incredulously. “Wait, why? It’s just a tape.”

“In the asylum.”

“Exactly,” Seokjin nods, not really comprehending. Or perhaps he does; he just finds amusement in how Hoseok drags his hands down his face, exasperation clear on his otherwise horrified and concerned face. He laughs, then, slapping the dancer’s shoulder a few times. “It’ll be okay! Don’t worry too much,” he shakes his head. “It’s just a tape. It’s not like it’s cursed or something.”

Hoseok makes a rude gesture with his hands, one that Seokjin expertly ignores in favor of laughing his ass off. The dancer mutters a bit too low for Jin to hear, but in the end the red haired male simply shrugs and accepts Seokjin’s words.

“Just don’t come running to me if you get cursed, hyung.”

“Aish, I won’t. Go now, shoo, shoo, I want to enjoy this tape in peace.”

“It’s a tape from an asylum! You can’t enjoy it?!”

“It’s a figure of speech, Hoseok-ah.”

“Figure of speech how?!”

To be quite honest, now that he knows it belongs to an asylum—one of which doesn’t exist anymore and is pretty popular as a “haunted place” despite the truth of why it got shut down, mind you—his interest has died down quite a bit. Not that it stops him from playing the tape and watching it, but Hoseok gave him a spoiler and his excitement died down a little bit as a result.

Still, as he watches the tape playout (and it is creepy. Seokjin keeps on thinking someone is watching along with him and he ends up turning around from his seat more often than not) he can’t help but think about how… lonely, the kid in the tape must be.

This… JJK.

First of all, he needed a haircut, in Seokjin’s humble opinion. The boy in the tape has bangs covering his eyes most of the time, and Seokjin doesn’t even know emo hairstyle was popular around the time this tape was recorded. Seokjin hoped the boy at least got the haircut he deserved.

The boy rarely talked in the tape, mostly spending his time staring at the wall muttering to himself or staring right at the camera (that is creepy. Seokjin has to make a walk to the refrigerator to calm himself down from the death stare). Sometimes, JJK would sing. Sometimes, he’d draw on papers or even the white walls of his room (good, Seokjin can’t help but think. The room was so dull that even Seokjin himself would turn crazy if he was in it for a long time).

Other times, he’d talk to psychiatrists. Sometimes, he’d ask for his mother (it seemed his mother never came, and Seokjin gets a little bit sad over it).

Sometimes, he screamed at the doctors until he got tired.

He doesn’t know why he keeps on watching the tape. Minutes have passed and nothing remotely interesting have happened (other than the boy changing positions, moving his gaze from the wall to the camera, or when he banged his head to the wall and giving Seokjin the scare of his life) and yet… Seokjin is still here.

So apparently the boy had supernatural powers and that’s why he was in the asylum. Not a great reason to put someone who wasn’t crazy (he saw those things JJK made fly, okay, he’s a believer now) but considering the time and age, he can understand it, he supposes.

Things take a heavy turn when the recording shows a well, instead of the usual white room, and Seokjin can only watch, a scream stuck in his throat as he watches a woman who could probably be JJK’s mother manhandled and threw him inside of the well and closing the lid.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

He… He didn’t expect this. JJK didn’t deserve that, what the fuck, mother?! Why did she do that?! Better yet, why did this tape exist?! Who recorded this and just… let this happen?!

The tape is still on, the screen showing the closed well, and Seokjin hurriedly turns it off in disgust.

Unbelievable. He’s angry, now.

JJK didn’t deserve that. He kept asking for his mother, didn’t he deserve some cuddles and home made cooking? Or, oh, I don’t know, the whole ass “you’re weird and you can make things fly but you’re still my son and I will try to accept you?” or maybe “I can’t love you but here let me try to find someone who will because you deserve some warmth in life at the very least, haha.”

No? Just kill the boy and throw him inside of a well instead?

He has to admit, JJK was scary. His intense stare, his powers, his screaming and his... episodes, when he was still in the white room; those were scary.

But he also seemed to be lonely.

He doodled on papers and walls, he sung and he hugged a bunny plush to sleep.

Perhaps he was weird and creepy, but he did not deserve that.

JJK did not deserve that.

Sighing heavily, Seokjin rubs the back of his head as he walks toward his bedroom. He’s intent on trying to forget the tape—it’s an old tape and there is no use getting angry over it. The asylum has been closed down, anyways—and continue with his life.

He’ll probably throw the tape away. There’s no need to bring that sort of a thing to the library, after all.

Except Hoseok comes barreling to his apartment the next morning, babbling about cursed tape from that asylum and how you’re going to die, hyung, oh my god, I told you not to watch it, I TOLD YOU! And Seokjin is perhaps a bit too sleepy to really process what Hoseok is saying, but it takes a good 20 minutes of the dancer explaining about how dire the situation is before it settles into Seokjin’s brain that, hey, he just got cursed.

Seokjin blinks.

“That’s wild.”

Hoseok looks like he wants to cry. Seokjin can relate, really. “Hyung!”

Okay… So… he got cursed. The tape he watched yesterday is unfortunately a cursed tape (Hoseok gave him the link to the site explaining about the contents of the tape and warnings not to hear or even see it and Seokjin can only think: uh, too late buddy) and now he’s cursed.

It makes sense, now that Seokjin thinks about it. JJK was held in a white boring room for a long ass time, had to be alone for a long ass time, had to experience being thrown into a well, and he had supernatural powers.

If Seokjin is JJK, he would do curse people too.

Still, he’s cursed now, and the site is talking about copying the tape and giving it to somebody else before seven days to transfer the curse to them. Seokjin had looked at Hoseok when he read it aloud and the younger man honestly looked so afraid of his life. Honestly, so adorable.

Seokjin doesn’t think he can do it though; cursing Hoseok or anyone else that he knows. Besides, that means the curse has spread and who is to say he won’t die regardless?

Still, the instruction says JJK will come to him in seven days to kill him.

…..

Hm….

He may have an idea.

Maybe.

Seven days later.

It’s something that Seokjin doesn’t really expect: his TV suddenly turning on, showing the scene of the closed well (he shivers). The lid is slowly moving away from the mouth of the well, he notices, and Seokjin waits with a bated breath as a figure he knows as JJK, with the long ass bangs and the dainty waist and all—climbs up from the well.

JJK is getting closer, Seokjin knows, and his breath actually hitches when a hand gets out from the TV. The boy is crawling out of the TV, and that is some creepy shit over there, Seokjin has to admit.

He may have released a tiny “aAAhhhH” as he watches it happen, but he digresses.

JJK is drenched, as to be expected from someone who was thrown into a well and… probably drowned in said well, and Seokjin probably shouldn’t be so snotty about this but really, if JJK wants to kill him, he should be faster.

At the rate he’s crawling right now, Seokjin could’ve driven himself to the airport and move away to Hong Kong.

Still, Seokjin doesn’t run, and he watches as JJK stops short in his tracks as he notices the things Seokjin has prepared for him in seven days.

A full-course meal, with red flower petals and lit aromatherapy candles; all prepared by Seokjin.

“Hey, JJK,” Seokjin calls, watching as the boy lifts his head, his drenched bangs covering his eyes. “Let’s eat.”

You know, he thought it would be harder than this. But JJK simply needs five minutes of Seokjin coaxing him to sit in front of him and to dig in the meals he’s prepared for the boy. He didn’t even think that JJK could eat, but apparently he could, since the boy is practically devouring the spicy fried chicken he made, all the while still being drenched in water and all that.

If Seokjin doesn’t know how dull and lonely JJK’s life had been in the asylum, he would’ve been surprised over how JJK looks like he’s never seen such good foods in his life before.

(He probably hadn’t).

(Fuck, why is he getting sad for a vengeful spirit who is probably going to kill him?)

(Said vengeful spirit is currently poking at a chocolate pudding with a spoon, but well).

(He’s still a vengeful spirit).

“Is it good?” Seokjin asks as casually as he can, watching the boy whose eyes are still hidden by the bangs nod slowly. His cheeks are bulging from the big spoonful of chocolate pudding he shoved into his mouth after he got a small taste of the dessert, and Seokjin kinds of want to hit himself for thinking that he looks cute.

A vengeful spirit, Seokjin, he thinks to himself, mentally kicking his own butt. Remember, a vengeful spirit.

“You can come back here tomorrow,” Seokjin says, his voice shaking. JJK is staring at him rather intensely now. He thinks he’s going to die. “You know, for, uh, food.”

And that’s how Seokjin somehow manages to live for another day.

Seokjin doesn’t tell Hoseok on why his life is spared and he evades Hoseok’s questions about his drenched apartment floor. Still, he does tell Hoseok never to come to his apartment unannounced ever again. He doesn’t know when JJK will come and finally take his life, after all.

“So... What’s your real name?” Seokjin asks over another candle lit dinner (he uses lavender today, and JJK seems to rather love the smell). JJK snaps his gaze up from the roasted duck he’s been poking with his chopsticks (why is he so cute????? Literally Seokjin can’t handle?????) and stays silent for awhile.

Seokjin has to wonder if he’s finally crossed some invisible line that allows his life to be spared.

“….kook….”

“Uh?” Seokjin blinks. “Say what?”

“….” The boy mumbles. Seokjin watches as the knife on the table seems to shake a little bit on its own. “…Jungkook,” JJK—or Jungkook—says finally, the knife settling back in place as if it hasn’t almost given Seokjin a heart attack of the century.

Seokjin nods. “Well, I’m Seokjin. You can call me Jin-hyung.” He’s basically just letting his mouth run on its own at this point, though he considers itself a miracle over how the spirit hasn’t killed him yet… because of food.

How starved must this kid be before, that he could be bargained with food?

“I was born earlier than you,” Jungkook says, stabbing his chopsticks to his bowl of rice. Seokjin really runs on autopilot by now, since he retorts back.

“You’re, like, forever 21 maybe, kid, I’m definitely older than you.”

“….You’re old,” the boy says petulantly, a pout forming on his lips (what the fuck, Seokjin’s mind supplies. A vengeful spirit. Remember he’s a vengeful spirit, Seokjin). “Ancient.”

“Excuse me, I made your food.”

“…Ancient,” Jungkook repeats as he continues eating.

Seokjin still has control over his limbs and he doesn’t want to die, so he refrains from throwing a spoon at the other.

Somehow… it becomes a tradition?

It’s been almost a month already and he’s not dead yet, so maybe it’s a good thing?

He’s reduced the full course meal into something more simple and easy to make, since he’s no rich college student (his family’s business begs to differ, but Seokjin isn’t taking that into account). Jungkook still comes by every night, climbing out of the well and then the TV and drenching his floor in the process. (By now, he’s only exasperated as he watches as his floor and carpets getting wet. Must Jungkook be wet everytime he comes here?)

They will eat and Seokjin will ask questions, Jungkook will answer.

Well, sometimes.

Other times he either stays quiet, pouts or throws him sass.

(He wants to ask if that sass is what gotten him killed but Seokjin believes that is insensitive and that he will definitely die if he ever ask that to Jungkook).

Sometimes, Jungkook doesn’t immediately disappear when he finishes his food (somehow Seokjin has managed to coax the boy into washing the dishes??? At first the boy’s reaction had been violent but after he explained it the boy became rather docile).

Seokjin has to remind himself all the time that Jungkook is a vengeful spirit.

If he wants to be smug, he can say that Jungkook has warmed up to him considerably. The boy puts everything in his mouth and he accepts whatever kind of food Seokjin has to offer him. He trails after Seokjin as he moves around the room, like a lost puppy (Seokjin has to stop himself from cooing. He’s a vengeful spirit, Seokjin, a vengeful spirit). Sometimes he draws on papers Seokjin gives him (“I saw on the tape that you like to draw,” Seokjin said to him the first time he did it. Jungkook had stared at him for a full ten minutes before he took the paper and doodled on it).

Sometimes he sings. Sometimes he uses his powers and makes things fly as he sings (Seokjin ran away to the bathroom with a lame excuse when he saw Jungkook making knifes fly around his living room).

Jungkook calls him “hyung” now. Sometimes he smiles (bunny teeth! Seokjin had to refrain himself from screaming it to the world the first time he saw it), sometimes he laughs.

Sometimes he tugs on Seokjin’s sleeve when he wants to ask the elder something.

Some other times, the boy literally throws himself on Seokjin and his couch (his couch keeps on getting wet these days, Seokjin kind of wants to cry. He should hair dry this boy before he goes anywhere, he swears) and they… cuddle. Or… whatever. He sits on Seokjin’s lap and either stares at Seokjin’s face or he stares at the ceiling. Seokjin has come to simply accept it. It’s either that or he dies anyway (or so he said).

Other times, his vengeful spirit side comes out in full force.

Other times, he’ll stare at the wall all day, sometimes smacking his head to it repeatedly without pause and only stopping when Seokjin calls out in panic and fear that Seokjin will make him watch about a man in a tin can if he stop trying to crush hurt himself please stop it.

(Jungkook ends up loving Iron Man).

Other times, he’ll give the death stare at Seokjin, as if he’s thinking of creative ways to kill Seokjin.

Other times, he makes the walls and the furniture tremble with his powers and it’s not him playing around, and those times are the only times Seokjin is afraid for his life.

Other times, he’ll talk about it.

“I’m supposed to kill you.”

Seokjin ignores the instinctive fear that comes with those words and that intense stare as he shrugs. “No more food for you if you do.”

Jungkook simply nods, “and no more Iron Man.”

“Atta, boy.”

One day, Hoseok breaks his promise not to ever come to Seokjin’s apartment unannounced and ends up finding Seokjin trying to coax Jungkook into allowing the older man to cut his bangs.

“C’mon, Gukkie, just a little bit!”

“I want sushi.”

“Yah, I already made you beef and you want semur?! I’m even going to cut your bangs for your sake!”

“Then you can forget it.”

“Yah, Jungkookie!”

“I want sushi.”

Hoseok screams.

“…Can I kill it?”

“No, you can’t, Kookah.”

“I want sushi.”

“…Fine. But don’t kill Hoseok.”

Jungkook smiles his bunny smile (Hoseok pauses at this, and yeah, Hoseok, Seokjin can relate) and pecks Seokjin’s lips, ignoring how Hoseok seems to resume screaming at this (for a whole different reason) and Seokjin’s pale blush.

“Yah—You—I can’t belie—“

“Sushi.”

“Ugh!” Seokjin huffs. “Fine, you big baby. But you’re not killing Hoseok and I’m going to cut your bangs!”

“Kay.”

And there’s that.

#jinkook #bts #bts au #jinkook au #kim seokjin #jeon jungkook #misha writes #i had fun writing this sdhsjhf

26 notes · View notes