#I got two group projects dumped on me today

[ramblings-of-lola]

I am so overwhelmed

[drewharrisonwriter]

Lifeline - Ch. 7: Volunteer

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader, referred to as “Honey” 

Series Summary: After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

Author's Notes: I have been working on this fic on and off for the past year, and this story is a little personal to me. Yes, I am trauma dumping in some scenes lol but I also want to say that there will be so many unrealistic things about Hollywood, actors, and PR/Marketing agencies here, to which I apologize.

Warnings: Angst, a little drama, lots of flashbacks. More warnings to come as the story progresses.

Read this on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dieter sat in his car, the engine still running as he stared at the community center across the street. He told himself he was just killing time, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. The last time he’d been here, it was a scheduled appearance, something Honey had set up as part of his image rehab. But today, he was here on his own, drawn back by something he couldn’t quite name. It was quieter this time, the mid-afternoon lull making the building look almost inviting.

He turned off the engine and got out, adjusting his baseball cap to shield his face even though no one here would care who he was. As he stepped inside, the familiar sounds of kids laughing and chattering hit him—a soundtrack of life that felt miles away from the empty echo of his house.

“Back for round two?” Sam, the young volunteer with colorful streaks in her hair, greeted him with a bright smile from behind the front desk. She handed him a volunteer badge without hesitation, her eyes sparkling with a mix of surprise and genuine delight. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

“Yeah, well…” Dieter shrugged, sliding the badge over his head. “Turns out I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Sam laughed, a sound that cut through the cloud of self-deprecation hanging over him. “Well, we’re glad you’re here. The kids love having you around. And hey, it beats sitting at home, right?”

Dieter nodded, grateful for her easy acceptance. “Definitely better than that.”

He made his way toward the art room, the familiar hum of activity pulling him in. Maria, the art instructor, was already busy explaining today’s project to a group of kids gathered around her. When she spotted Dieter, she gave him a knowing smile.

“Well, look who decided to join us again,” Maria said, handing him a brush without missing a beat. “Couldn’t stay away?”

Dieter chuckled, feeling strangely at ease. “Guess I missed the glitter.”

Maria laughed, shaking her head. “We’ve got plenty of that. Today’s project is murals—big, messy, and colorful. The kids are painting scenes that we’ll hang in the main hall. Feel like jumping in?”

“Yeah,” Dieter said, looking around at the kids already deep in their work. “Sounds good.”

Dieter settled in at a table with a few kids who were busy painting what looked like a wild, chaotic sunset. The youngest, a girl no older than six, was splattering paint with unrestrained joy, her tiny hands covered in bright red and orange streaks.

“You know, when you do that,” Dieter said, leaning over and pointing at her brush, “it’s called the Jackson Pollock technique. He was this artist who used to just throw paint at a canvas and see what happened.”

The girl looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Is that okay? To just throw it?”

“Absolutely,” Dieter nodded. “It’s called ‘action painting.’ There’s no wrong way to do art. It’s about how it makes you feel.”

She beamed at him, flicking more paint across her canvas with newfound confidence. Dieter laughed, feeling a lightness he hadn’t in a long time.

As he continued to paint, Dieter found himself explaining bits and pieces of art history in a way the kids could grasp. He pointed out how to make colors blend softly together, sharing dumbed-down versions of famous artists’ techniques that he’d picked up over the years. He helped one boy, who was struggling to make the sun look realistic, by showing him how to use a sponge to create soft, fading edges.

“This is called blending,” Dieter explained, guiding the boy’s hand. “See how it makes the colors look like they’re melting into each other? It’s kind of like magic.”

The boy looked up at him, eyes bright. “Cool! You’re like an art wizard or something.”

Dieter laughed, the boy’s innocent enthusiasm infectious. “Yeah, something like that.”

Ethan, the freckle-faced kid who had called him out as “that guy from the movies” the last time, sidled up next to Dieter. He held a brush in one hand, eyeing Dieter with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“You’re back,” Ethan said, stating it like a fact rather than a question.

“Guess I am,” Dieter replied, smirking. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

Ethan shrugged, dipping his brush into a jar of blue paint. “It’s just… I thought you were, like, famous. Don’t you have better things to do?”

Dieter paused, considering the boy’s question. “Honestly? Not really. I like it here. It’s different. You guys don’t care about who I am or what I’ve done, and that feels… kinda nice.”

Ethan glanced at him, then nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. We’re just painting. Nobody here cares about all that stuff.”

“Exactly,” Dieter agreed, feeling a warmth spread in his chest. “So, what are you working on?”

Ethan held up his canvas, showing off a messy but earnest attempt at a landscape. “I’m trying to paint a beach, but it’s not coming out right.”

Dieter studied the painting, then picked up a brush. “You ever heard of Monet? He used to paint outside, trying to capture light in different ways. It didn’t have to look perfect—it just had to feel like the place. See how the light hits the water here? Try adding some lighter blues and yellows to give it that shimmer.”

Ethan nodded, following Dieter’s advice with focused determination. As the boy worked, Dieter found himself slipping into a rhythm, his own brush moving across his canvas without much thought. The act of creating, the feel of paint under his fingers—it was like slipping into a familiar old coat. But today, surrounded by these kids, it felt even better. Almost… happy.

“You’re really good at this,” Ethan said after a while, watching Dieter paint. “Like, really good.”

Dieter smiled, genuinely touched by the kid’s sincerity. “Thanks, buddy. I’ve been doing it a long time.”

“Did you ever want to be an artist instead of an actor?” Ethan asked, his voice innocent and curious.

Dieter hesitated, his brush hovering over the canvas. “Yeah. Once upon a time. I just… I dunno. Life kind of went a different way.”

Ethan shrugged, as if that made perfect sense. “You could still be both.”

Dieter chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, you might be right.”

As the hours slipped by, Dieter helped the kids finish their murals, showing them how to add finishing touches and clean up their brushes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this light, this connected. He wasn’t just Dieter Bravo, the troubled actor. He was a guy sharing his love for art with kids who didn’t see him as a failure, but as someone who could teach them something cool.

As the class wound down, Maria approached him again, her expression warm. “You’ve got a real way with them, you know? They love having you here.”

Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, well… I like it too. Makes me feel… useful, I guess.”

Maria nodded, her gaze soft. “We could always use more hands. If you want to make this a regular thing, the door’s always open.”

Dieter glanced around the room, taking in the kids’ excited faces as they admired their finished work. For a moment, he let himself imagine it—coming back week after week, being part of something that felt real and untainted by all the noise of his other life.

“Yeah,” Dieter said finally, his voice quiet. “I’ll think about it.”

As he stepped outside, Dieter found himself lingering by his car, not quite ready to leave. He watched as parents arrived to pick up their kids, the joyful reunions filled with laughter and hugs. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing, something he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge in years. Watching these families, Dieter found himself yearning for something he’d always been too afraid to admit he wanted—a family of his own. Kids to share his love of art with, to teach about blending colors and painting the world as they saw it.

He let his mind drift, imagining a simpler life. He saw himself finger-painting with a toddler, their hands covered in bright splashes of color, laughter echoing through a sunlit room. He pictured little feet running across hardwood floors, paint-splattered smocks, and the soft, sweet chaos of family life. He imagined a wife—someone to share quiet evenings and messy mornings with, someone to laugh with when the kids got more paint on themselves than the canvas.

And no matter how hard he tried, no matter who he had been with all these years, it was still Honey’s face that he saw. Still the only person he’d seriously considered that life with. Honey, with her warm smile and the way she’d always believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself. The vision hit him so deeply, it almost knocked the breath out of him.

Dieter shook his head, trying to clear the daydream. But the ache lingered, a deep, relentless pull that left him feeling hollow. He wanted that life—he wanted it with her, and he’d never been able to replace that image, no matter how many parties, flings, or late-night mistakes he’d made.

The familiar urge to drown his feelings in booze and drugs started to claw at him. The thought of numbing this pain, even just for a little while, felt so tempting. But as he glanced back at the community center, at the kids streaming out, waving their painted hands in the air, something inside him shifted. He didn’t want to run away, not this time.

Instead of driving to the nearest liquor store, Dieter decided he’d head home and do some art. Maybe he’d paint the mural he saw in his mind—the one with bright splashes of color, little hands, and warm smiles. For once, he wouldn’t try to escape the image of Honey and the life he’d almost had. He’d paint it, live in it for just a while longer, and let it be enough.

Dieter climbed into his car, feeling a strange mix of sadness and resolve. Today had been a small step, but it was something. And maybe that was enough to keep going. For now, he’d let his art be his escape, and maybe one day, it would lead him somewhere that felt like home.

Dieter stared at the half-finished painting in his living room, brush in hand, lost in the muddled colors that had started to take the shape of his earlier daydream. The quiet of his home felt stifling, the only sound the soft scrape of his brush against the canvas. He couldn’t get the image out of his head—tiny hands covered in paint, a warm laugh echoing in a sunlit room. The longing hit him like a sucker punch.

As he painted, his phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a text from Honey. He blinked, wiping his hands on a rag before picking it up.

Honey: Hey, are you doing okay?

Dieter stared at the message, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t a question she’d asked casually; he could sense the weight behind it, the quiet concern she was trying to mask. He hesitated, thumb hovering over the keyboard before he finally replied.

Dieter: Been better. You free to talk?

Almost immediately, his phone rang. Dieter glanced at the screen, seeing Honey’s name and photo—the same one from years ago, back when things were simpler. He answered, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Honey,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was no hiding the exhaustion.

“Hey,” Honey replied, her tone soft and slightly hesitant. “I just… I don’t know. I had this feeling. Mitch told me you’ve been laying low, and I wanted to check in.”

Dieter let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, laying low. That’s one way to put it.”

“How are you really?” Honey asked, her voice gentle but firm, cutting through the usual bullshit.

Dieter sighed, staring at his painting, the colors blending into something both beautiful and painful. “I went back to the community center today. Not because I had to—just… I don’t know. It felt good to be there. Felt like I was actually doing something worthwhile for once.”

Honey paused, absorbing his words. “You went on your own? Outside of our usual PR stuff?”

Dieter nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. No cameras, no Mitch, no nothing. Just me and the kids.”

“That’s great, Dieter,” Honey said, sounding genuinely pleased but with a hint of professional detachment, at least she tried to make it sound that way. “I’m proud of you. I really am. This kind of genuine engagement is exactly what people need to see from you. It shows a side that’s not just a headline.”

“Yeah, well, don’t start throwing a parade just yet,” Dieter muttered, his tone half-joking but tinged with sincerity. “It’s weird, you know? Being around those kids. They don’t care who I am or what I’ve done. They just… they just want to paint.”

Honey’s silence on the other end was loaded, as if she was trying to find the right words. “I get it. Sometimes it’s the simple stuff that hits the hardest.”

Dieter nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “I keep thinking about what it’d be like, you know? Having that... a family. I watched those kids today, and I just… I don’t know. It felt good. And then I started thinking about—” He cut himself off, his throat tightening, he cleared it. “Never mind.”

“No, go on,” Honey urged gently, her voice laced with that familiar warmth. “You can tell me.”

Dieter swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “I started thinking about what it’d be like to have my own kids. Like, actually teaching them how to paint, showing them all the art stuff that I love. I know it’s stupid, but… I’ve never really let myself think about it in a very long time.”

“It’s not stupid,” Honey said, her voice softer now, almost wistful. “I think it’s really sweet, actually. I always thought you’d make a great dad.”

Dieter chuckled, but it was tinged with sadness. “Yeah, well, you’re probably the only one who thinks that.”

Honey’s silence spoke volumes, and when she finally responded, her tone coming off as a bit nostalgic, almost dreamy in a way. “You remember that time we were in that art supply store, and you spent like half an hour teaching that kid how to mix colors?”

Dieter laughed, the memory coming back vividly. “Yeah. His mom thought I worked there.”

“You were so patient with him,” Honey continued, her voice distant but fond. “It was the first time I really saw that side of you—the part that just lights up when you’re teaching someone about art.”

Dieter let the silence hang between them for a moment, absorbing her words. “I don’t feel that way about a lot of things anymore. But being with those kids today… I don’t know, it felt real.”

Honey’s breath hitched, the sound almost imperceptible. “I’m glad you went back. I think it’s good for you, PR stuff or not.”

“Yeah,” Dieter said, staring at his unfinished painting, the colors blurring together in his vision. “It’s just… it’s hard, you know? Thinking about what I could’ve had. I mean, I wanted that life with… I wanted it once. I thought about it a lot, actually.”

Honey’s end went quiet, the only sound the faint rustling of papers as she shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t think you did, Dieter...”

There was a pause, heavy with everything unsaid between them. Dieter took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his confession sink in. “Do you ever… I mean, do you ever think about what might’ve happened if we’d tried harder? Stayed together?”

Honey hesitated, her voice thick with emotion when she finally spoke. “I do. All the time. I think about what might’ve been different, what we could’ve had… but we can’t live in the past.”

Dieter rubbed his temples, frustration bubbling up inside him. “I know that, Honey. But sometimes it feels like the past is all I’ve got left. I’m trying—I’m really trying to be better, to get my shit together, but I don’t know how to stop feeling like I missed my chance.”

“You haven’t missed it,” Honey said firmly. “You’re still here, Dieter… you still have a lot of things going for you, especially what you did today… And that’s more than a lot of people can say.”

Dieter let out a breath, feeling a small, stubborn flicker of hope ignite in his chest. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, neither of them rushing to end the call. It felt like old times, like the nights they’d stayed up talking about their dreams and fears, wrapped up in each other’s arms. It was bittersweet, knowing that those days were gone, but tonight, just hearing her voice was enough. It felt the same way but not quite… but it was enough. 

“Hey,” Dieter said, breaking the quiet. “Would you… I don’t know. Would you wanna meet up? We could grab coffee or go for a walk. No pressure. I just... I miss talking to you in person.”

Honey was quiet for a moment, contemplating his question, then sighed softly. “Yeah, okay. I think I’d like that.”

Dieter’s heart lifted, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “How about tomorrow? We could meet at that little park near the community center. It’s quiet, no one will bother us.”

“Tomorrow sounds good,” Honey agreed, her voice softening. “See you then, Dieter.”

“See you, Honey.”

Dieter hung up, staring at the phone in his hand. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had something to look forward to.

–

The next day, Dieter arrived at the park early, his nerves buzzing with anticipation. He hadn’t seen Honey outside of their work meetings and PR crises in what felt like forever, and the idea of just being around her, with no agenda, filled him with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

He spotted her from a distance, dressed in a simple, casual outfit—jeans, a light sweater, and her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked effortlessly beautiful, and for a moment, Dieter was struck by how much he’d missed seeing her like this, outside the polished veneer of her professional life.

“Hey,” Honey greeted as she approached, her smile warm but tinged with uncertainty. “Been a while since we’ve done this.”

Dieter smiled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah. Too long.”

They started walking, keeping an easy pace along the park’s winding path. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light on the ground as they made their way past a small pond where ducks floated lazily.

“So,” Honey said, breaking the silence. “How’s the painting coming along? You mentioned you were working on something last night.”

Dieter let out a soft laugh. “It’s… it’s a mess, honestly. But it feels good. I’ve been trying to paint this thing I saw in my head yesterday at the community center. Kids, bright colors, just… happiness. It’s not coming out quite right, but I’m getting there.”

“I’d love to see it sometime,” Honey said, her voice sincere. “I mean, if you’d be okay with that.”

“Yeah,” Dieter nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I’d like that. You were always my favorite critic.”

Honey chuckled, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “I was always fair.”

They continued walking, their conversation shifting effortlessly between lighthearted banter and deeper reflections. Dieter found himself telling Honey about the kids at the center, how teaching them made him feel more alive than he had in years.

“They don’t judge, you know?” Dieter said, his voice tinged with wonder. “They just see a guy who likes to paint. It’s like... I get to be the best version of myself with them.”

Honey nodded, watching him intently. “You deserve to feel that way, Dieter. And I’m glad you’re finding it, even if it’s in a place you didn’t expect.”

Dieter stopped, turning to face her fully. “You always saw that in me. Even when I couldn’t.”

Honey looked at him, her expression softening. “Give people a chance, Dieter. They’ll see you, too… Not the actor, not the scandals. Just you.”

Dieter’s chest tightened, the truth of her words hitting him hard. He’d spent so much time running from himself, but with Honey, he always felt seen in a way that was both terrifying and comforting.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night,” Dieter admitted, his voice low. “About how we can’t live in the past. But sometimes, it’s the only place I feel safe.”

Honey reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. “You don’t have to stay there, though. You can look back, but you also have to keep moving forward. And you’re doing that, even if it’s through little things.” 

Dieter swallowed, his throat tight. “I want to be better, Honey. Not just for me, but… I don’t know. I keep thinking about this life I want, and I don’t want to mess it up before I even get close.”

Honey’s eyes softened, filled with a mix of hope and something else Dieter couldn’t quite place. “You’re not going to mess it up. You’ve already taken the hardest step—deciding you want something more.”

They stood there, the moment stretching between them, filled with all the things they couldn’t quite say. Dieter felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance, to hold her the way he used to, but he held back, afraid of pushing too far, too fast.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Dieter said finally, his voice tinged with gratitude. “I know it’s not easy… being around me.”

Honey smiled, shaking her head. “It’s not easy staying away, either. And… I’ll see you at our next PR event, okay? We still have a lot to sort out there, and the world is still watching.”

Dieter nodded, appreciating her ability to bring him back down to earth without breaking the connection they’d just shared. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Promise.”

As they walked back to their cars, Dieter hesitated, then reached out, his fingers brushing hers lightly. Honey glanced at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and squeezed his hand gently before letting go.

“See you soon?” Dieter asked, his voice hopeful.

“Yeah,” Honey said, her smile soft and real. “See you soon.”

Dieter watched her drive away, feeling a strange mix of sadness and hope. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel completely lost. He had no idea what the future held, but with Honey back in his life, even in this small way, it felt like he was finally on the right path.

As he got into his car, Dieter glanced at the community center down the street, a small smile tugging at his lips. He’d be back. He’d keep painting, keep showing up, and maybe, just maybe, he’d figure out how to piece his life together again—one brushstroke at a time.

Tagging: @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for this update ^_^ if you want to be tagged for the next one, just drop a comment ^_^

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Look Who Showed Up Gen 1 pt.64

Kiersten and M chat as she finishes getting ready for the company dinner party. The week had passed in a blur of first.

Kiersten: How was the triplets first week of school?

M: Ugh. Venus got sick on her first day so we picked her up early and Ishtar forgot his class had picture day.

Kiersten: I've never understood picture day in the first week of school.

M: Poor Ish, he came home a mess.

Kiersten: And Aphrodite?

M: Dite seems to be doing well, you know her. She doesn't let much stop her. She does her homework everyday without being told, some days she even helps the other two. She brought home a school project today, already started it. The only real saving grace was Zohreh and Malachi starting preschool together!

Kiersten: I'm so happy they were put in the same group. Tucker said he has gym with Venus. Apparently the two of them and Ishtar all sit together at lunch.

M: Tucker's in the grade above the triplets right?

Kiersten: Yeah. Before you know it they'll all be in High school.

M: Oh watcher, don't say that! I already feel like they are growing up too fast. I think I'm ready.

Downstairs the house is a symphony of beautiful pandemonium.

Rufus: .....the code was destroyed, they had to dump the whole project.

Kason: That's crazy, must have cost the company a fortune. Think about all the servo's that were likely disposed of afterwards.

Rufus is the first to notice the ladies come down.

Rufus: Beautiful sight you ladies are.

Kiersten: You gentlemen clean up quite nice yourselves.

Spirit: Are you kids ready? You'll be late if you don't leave soon.

Rufus: Yes ma'am. We're on our way out now. Thank you again for watchin' the boys.

Kiersten: Behave for Mrs. Medley I love you guys. See you in the morning.

Spirit: No need for thanks and that's Spirit to you young lady. Tucker was telling me a charming tale he wrote. No need to worries I think we'll be fine.

The Brindelton Bay Yacht Club

When they arrive the Yacht club is beautifully decorated for fall. The group have their photo taken in the lobby before being ushered to their seats. Once seated a waitress comes and quickly collects their drink and food orders before Greg comes over to the table.

Greg: Gratz! Glad you could make it. I see you brought your lovely wife.

M: Greg. It's wonderful to see to you again. You look great.

Greg: My head is balder and I've gained 5 pounds but you flatter me.

Greg: Walters, glad to see you made it as well. Considering you don't get out of your department much this is a great chance for everyone to meet our head Processor of Processors.

Rufus: Glad to be here. This is my wife Kiersten.

Greg; The beautiful Kiersten. The photo on his desk is a sham. Your a wonderful motivator he speaks of you often you know.

Kiersten: It's wonderful to finally meet you and thank you for welcoming Rufus. He loves working with this team.

Greg: Well then I'm doing something right. Gentlemen, Ladies, I must to go rejoin my husband, have fun.

As Greg turns to leave he notices Paris enter the lobby.

Greg: Paris... your dress is really something.

Paris: Thank you. I got it just for the event.

Kason and Mercury recognize her voice immediately. Rufus looks up noticing their reaction and turns to see who's creating the commotion.

Rufus: Ah, the intern.

Kiersten: The one you told me about. What was her name?

M: Paris.

She does nothing to mask the anger that marred her expression. Paris's name felt like a dirty word leaving M mouth, slithering through like the serpent she had proven herself to be.

Rufus: Can't say I'm surprised by your reaction. I've seen how she watches Kason.

Kiersten: Doesn't she know he's married.

Rufus: Love, I've told ya. I don't think that matters. She pines after him while flirtin' with any man in the office that'll give her the time a day.

Kiersten: Well that's rude. I'm sorry M.

M: Don't be. Its been a while since she's been a throne in our sides. I just didn't expect her to see her here. Guess that was silly considering she works for the company.

Kason: No it wasn't silly. I heard she wasn't coming. I'm sorry M. If I thought she was going to be here we never would have come.

M: Guy's were making a big deal out of nothing. This is a work event and I think she'd like to make this job permanent.

No sooner did she finish the sentence her and Paris lock eye's. Paris smiles smugly, M just stares back.

Previous Next

Beginning

Note: This post happens on a Thursday in game. The triplets had their first week of school. I wanted to follow them but I can't get the (Go to school Mod) to work for me yet. Zohreh also started preschool. I've looked into some daycare and preschool builds and the ones that I've found I'm not sure are right for our little guys Zohreh and Malachi.

CC: @mel-bennett @irinaseverinka @elen-shine @rebouks @soloriya

[wandurrlust]

hating you

pairing : akaashi keiji x reader

genre : academic rivals to lovers (?)

words : 1.2k

a/n : if you've read this before, it's cuz i'd posted it before but then took it down...my bestfriend forced me to made me repost it :)

Akaashi Keiji loves hating you.

He loves the subtle frown that takes over your otherwise smooth skin as the teacher dismisses your answer and permits him to speak over you.

He loves the way your eyes narrow down to slits as they rake over the unbelievably large crowd that has somehow gathered around the school's volleyball team - effectively causing you to push past numerous people just because you want to use the washroom that is on the other side of the hallway.

He loves being the first and probably the only one to notice the scowl that sits on your lips as the entire gymnasium howls with joy because Fukurodani has scored against the opponent team thanks to an excellent setter dump.

He loves being the cause of your sour mood because you'd come second in class - only next to him.

He loves the exasperated sigh that finds its way past your lips as you're told that this assignment has to be done in groups of two and the person sitting next to you just happens to be Akaashi himself.

He loves the way you roll your eyes as he slams some bills on the top of the wooden table of your favorite snack bar because the library was exceptionally crowded today and you simply needed to get this project done before Tuesday.

He loves the defeated groan you emit as you throw your head between your palms because you practically got nothing done in the past four hours but he had somehow managed to complete the entirety of his share of the damned assignment.

He loves how you discreetly flip him off with your middle finger because he chose to occupy the seat next to yours. On a fucking Monday when he knows you're bound to be late. You loathe Mondays.

He loves the shade of crimson that paints your face and makes it glow abnormally under the cafeteria lights as you almost spit out your lunch when you finally process what Bokuto has asked you: Are you and Akaashi a thing now? I barely ever see him anymore unless we're at practice.

He loves how you're forced to thank him for dropping you off at your front door because you chose to ignore the weather forecast and didn't carry an umbrella with you today and much to your luck, its pouring like hell.

He loves how you both suddenly have a group of mutual friends and you're all paying a visit to the ice cream parlor that stands a few meters away from the school campus 'cause you all deserve some time to unwind after that hell of a week of midterms all of you had to go through.

He loves the unintended giggle you let out as he cracks a super lame and admittedly cheesy joke that even has a few of your classmates booing.

He loves the sceptical look on your face as he finds himself holding the glass door ajar - for you to pass by before whispering, "This isn't very comfortable for my arms, hurry up."

He loves how the both of you are vaguely growing close.

He loves the faint whispers that surround the two of you as you bump your shoulder accidentally against his while the both of are walking beside eachother and are heading to class - together.

He loves the soft smile you shoot his way while you drop all your stuff on the glistening surface of the library table that has him seated on the opposite side.

He loves the faint tint of pink that suits itself upon your skin as you bid eachother goodbye.

He loves the butterflies that flutter around his ribcage as he tells himself that he'll be seeing you again tomorrow.

He loves how you randomly show up at practice one day and congratulate the team on their recent victory over Nekoma whilst urging them to call it a day as you had promised to treat him to onigiris if they managed to win.

He loves the unamused groan that rings through the class upon hearing your decision to team up with him for the upcoming debate competition because 'it simply isn't fair if two of the smartest people of the class team up together'.

He loves how you try to mask up the tiny gleam of disappointment that settles itself upon your eyes with a broad smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes upon realising that he introduced you to his parents as just a friend from school who was there to get some stuff done.

He loves how you let his arm wrap around your shoulder and pull you into a little side hug the second his bedroom door shuts itself with an ungodly creak - a gesture that quite literally translates to 'I don't know where we stand but you're definitely more than just a friend from school'.

He loves how you don't hesitate to counterattack his point with your own despite the fact that you're both a part of the same team when you finally start studying after bickering for what seems like eternities.

He loves how you rake your fingers through his soft hair and hum in response when he asks if he needs to get it trimmed as his head rests on top of his desk - worn out from the sheer hard work the both of you had indulged yourselves in since the past couple hours.

He loves it when your eyes snap up to meet his cerulean ones when your geography teacher calls out for him in class - for it isn't exactly his strongest subject.

He loves seeing you throw your head back with laughter as a response to something Konoha has said - unaware that the lad was doing a fair job of entertaining you as he let some of Keiji's embarrassing stories accidentally slip past his mouth - glad that you're getting along with the rest of the team.

He loves the cheery thumbs up you shoot his way as he scores a point against his teammates in a three on three match, shrieking at him to do it again.

He loves it when you assure and reassure Bokuto that you'll be there for the sleepover that Bokuto's hosting at his place this Saturday, cringing upon encountering the loud cheer that Bokuto lets out upon hearing your answer.

He loves the dainty shade of pink that dusts your cheeks as he steals a glance at Bokuto's messy kitchen just to see what exactly Kaori, Yukie and you are upto - his own skin mimicking the flimsy shade of crimson upon realising that the girls were wiggling their eyebrows as you loudly pondered over what would be an okay thing to gift him as a present for his birthday.

He loves how you scoot a little closer to him on the couch as a jump-scare in the horror movie causes you to flinch by the slightest.

He loves tight embrace of your arms around his torso when you're informed by your teacher that the one who came first in the class this time wasn't Keiji but you. But you quickly retract yourself because you realise the awkwardness and irony of the situation - you had afterall studied relentlessly for this test with Akaashi.

Akaashi Keiji simply loves hating you.

[noa-de-cajou]

Idalia and Zuza belong to @soupedepates and Louis (mentioned) to @corneille-but-not-the-author

______

Aïcha dumped me.

I kinda felt it coming, to be honest. As soon as she asked me to meet up after class. We sat down in our usual café, and she told me she didn’t feel like this was gonna work out, that we were probably better off as friends, the usual breakup speech.

We lasted, what, two months? A month and a half? Longer than most of my previous relationships. We’re both aiming for an history degree and we bonded on a shared project about political relationships between muslims and christians. The only arguments we’ve ever had were about which period we were going to make that damned presentation on.

I’m sort of relieved, as usual. Maybe I'm a bit of an asshole for that, but the more it went on, the more awkward it got. At least she didn’t throw a fit, she didn’t storm out. We actually hung out after agreeing to stay friends and talked about french presidents and showed each other memes and it felt nice.

But now she went home, and I feel weird for some reason. I should be glad that I didn’t get any drink thrown at me for my lack of tears or that she didn't block me, but some of the stuff she said just won't leave my head.

I take out my phone. 5pm. Milosz is still in class. I don't want to go home yet if it's just to sit in an empty living room feeling bad about myself.

He doesn't even know I was dating someone. No one knows. Mid-september to mid-november and I didn’t tell anyone. I'm not like the rest of them, I don't like talking about my dating issues. They can ramble about their relationships all they want, but I’d rather keep mine private. I don’t owe them to anyone. I’ve seen what can happen to people who are careless enough to make everyone know about it.

The screaming and the broken arm and the hospital and the tears and the

Yeah. Anyway.

I’d much rather sit and listen to Bazyli’s misadventures with Kaspar, seeing Milosz pine or Bronya being all touchy-feely with Louis.

Or maybe you're ashamed.

…

I feel worse.

I open the family group chat. Andrzej is spamming it with deepfried memes again. There’s talks about Kamil’s upcoming birthday. Tobiasz sends pictures of him with his girlfriend, it's probably the universe giving me the middle finger. But apart from that, nothing of note. Nothing for me to fix or help with.

I need to be needed somewhere. Anywhere.

There has to be somewhere I'm needed…

Suddenly I remember Milosz saying something about forgetting his sweater at Zuza’s last time he came to help rearrange furniture. Every time I need an airhead, I can always count on him.

I text Zuza to ask if I can come by to pick it up. She replies quickly, “no problem”, and the weight on my chest eases a little.

I take the bus to the apartment complex, dial the code, ring the bell. Familiar gestures, almost automatic, comforting.

The door opens.

It’s not Zuza.

It’s her girlfriend, only wearing jeans and a sports bra, she's barefoot, how, it's cold as fuck today, her ginger hair going all over the place, and a beer in hand.

“Well, if it isn’t Streetlamp.”

Wow, another joke about my height, how creative.

“I have a name, Idalia.”

“I forgot it.”

“It’s-”

“I know your name, kid. Learn how to take a joke, will ya?”

I don’t like Idalia.

I don't like how she walks around Zuza’s apartment like she owns the place. I don’t like how she lays flat on the couch with her feet hanging. I don't like how she leaves her empty cans everywhere (and not just cans of alcohol, coke, lemonade, protein shakes??). I don't like her son, but nobody does. I don’t like her attitude towards me, like I'm some brat, even though I'm an adult and she’s only seven years older than me. I don’t like how loud she is. Anyways, I don't like Idalia.

“So, watcha here for?”

“Picking up Milosz’ sweater. He forgot it.”

“Oh yeah, that. Zuza washed it. It's on the chair.”

“Thanks.”

I go and pick up the sweater. It would be too short and large on me but it’s the perfect size for Milosz. It’s old, stained, falling apart a little. At least it smells clean, blessed be Zuza.

I can feel Idalia’s stare on me and it makes me uncomfortable. It's time for a painful attempt at small talk.

“It’s weirdly quiet today. Where's Dmitry?”

“Eh, he's at Tekla’s this week. You don't know how good it feels to be able to take a piss without a mini you attached at your leg.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

She raises an eyebrow, I groan as I fold the sweater.

“I have six brothers. The youngest is in middle school. Took care of them a bunch.”

It used to be seven.

“Ah yeah, I get that.”

I know. I know your family, my older brother went to school with yours. I know we had similar lives. Similar dads. Similar moms.

Shit, pure shit, all of it.

“I don’t have to do that anymore, thank the fucking gods!”

I grit my teeth.

Do you know how fucking lucky you are to be able to see all your brothers at any time

No you don’t, of course not

We're the exact same so why are you so fucking

Lazy

Irresponsible

Careless

You uncaring bit-

“... You good, kid?”

I let out a heavy breath. I open my backpack and try to make the sweater fit.

“Yeah.”

Idalia takes a loud sip of her beer. It makes me want to shove it in her face.

“I think I saw your brother, recently. The oldest, I mean.”

“Lucjan?”

“Yeah. Nice dude.”

Lucjan did tell me that he met her. He’s still friend with one of her brothers, I think. The Adamski and the Lupsowiec were always the problem children. Forges bonds, I guess.

He was surprised when he met Idalia again. She wasn't a girl when he knew her, apparently. He says she looks happier now.

She’s fucking loud about it

I envy her

I couldn't voice anything if I tried

I don't know how to tell anyone what I want

Even less what I am

“You're doing that face again. What’s wrong, Streetlamp? Got dumped or something?”

I freeze. She blinks, goes back into sitting position.

“Wait, for real?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“How come Zuza didn’t know? She knows everything about the dating shit in your little crew.”

“I didn’t tell her.”

Precisely because she repeats everything to you.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It just didn’t work out. She said we were better off as friends and I think she’s right.”

That's not the only thing she said.

“You know, Simowiet, maybe you should do a little… self-reflection, or something. About yourself, I mean.”

I don't know what she means by that. I know I'm unlucky when it comes to dating. I've come to terms with it. It’s fine.

Maybe you just can’t love anyone properly.

I zip up my backpack. Idalia looks confused.

“Hold up, “she”?”

“Yeah, she. Her name’s Aïcha. Is there a problem?”

“No, but uh, I thought that you…”

“That I what?”

“Well… You know.”

No. I don’t know. That’s what irks me. That, and her eyes full of insinuations that I don't understand. She shrugs.

“Welp. Maybe you should stop trying to date girls.”

…

That's the most unsollicited piece of advice I've ever received and I live with Milosz.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” I reply dryly, “But I don't think you're the person to tell me that.”

“Why? It’s serious between Zuza and me!”

I know.

I just can't figure out why.

You're mean

Violent

Childish

Needy

No better than both our fathers

And yet Zuza’s still with you and I don’t get it because I'm not like you I'm nothing like you I'm nothing like him and yet it's working out

Why is it working out for you

and

never

for

me

Even though you’re a shitty person

…

Maybe

I'm

shittier

“Hey, it’s hard, I get it. You can sit down and talk if you wanna.”

“I don't want to talk to you of all people.”

… I said it out loud. She's looking at me. Her face twists into a snarl.

“Oh yeah? Why not, kid ?”

Don’t you dare

Call me that

In that tone

You're not my parent

You can’t even raise one kid right

“Because you're a fucking-”

Failure

And yet

The door opens. Zuza is looking at us with a raised eyebrow. Idalia doesn't let her talk.

“Zuza, tell your kid that yelling at me ain’t gonna fix his life.”

My cheeks are burning. Zuza looks even more confused.

“Did you yell at her, Simowiet? Did she provoke you?”

Idalia looks outraged at the suggestion.

“No I didn’t!”

I take a sharp inhale, bite the inside of my cheek.

Keep your cool

Everything is fine

You're fine.

“I’m just tired. Sorry, Idalia.”

Apologizing to her makes me want to puke, especially with how smug she looks. Zuza isn’t reading the room at all, which is probably for the better.

“Alright. Do you wanna stay for dinner?”

“No, I was just leaving.”

I don't want your fucking pity

“Thanks for washing the sweater, and I'm sorry Milosz keeps forgetting stuff here.”

“It’s no problem. I’d rather have that than Bazya stealing my stuff, you know.”

“Right.”

Because Bazyli is the only thing that keeps this whole arrangement together at this point

Maybe even our friend group

We’re always the leeches

I’ve always been the leech.

The thoughts are getting meaner. I need to leave.

“I really should go.”

“Sure, I won’t keep you. You're always welcome here, Simowiet, you know that?”

As if.

“Thanks. Bye, Zuza, Idalia.”

“See ya, Streetlamp! My offer still stands~”

I close the door like it’s the lid of my fucking coffin. It’s fine. I’m fine.

I take the way home, a notification rings in my pocket, you're needed, it's a text from Milosz.

“Hey, I'm on the way back from uni, is it okay if I bring Louis over? 🥺”

Louis. Just Louis? Not Bronya or Bazyli? That's unusual. I start to type a reply.

“Want me to leave you two alone?”

No. That's gonna make him uncomfortable.

“Why not bring the whole gang while you’re at it?”

No. Scratch that. I don't want an answer to that.

“I got dumped I'm not in the mood for guests”

… He’s just gonna be worried if I say that. He doesn't have to know.

“If you only need me to be your fucking housewife you could just say so”

What the fuck. No. That's Milosz. He’s my friend. My best friend. Why am I being so mean?

I hear Idalia’s laugh, “yelling at me ain't gonna fix your life”, how ironic coming from her.

“I don’t know. I was just hoping I could get some quiet tonight. Or talk to you. I had a rough day”

… Rough day. I just got dumped, it's not the end of the world.

Stop being so fucking whiny, Simowiet, get it together.

I stare at the text. I start typing again, slowly.

“Sure, no problem.”

And sent. Maybe the period at the end was a little too dry? Oh, fuck it, what’s done is done. The reply arrives quickly anyway.

“Yay! I’ll make dinner for us then! Thanks Sim you're the best 💖”

I smile. A little. He's adorable as always. And his cooking is good.

And you’re a hypocrite.

I put the phone back in my pocket and start walking again. Towards home, I guess. My home that doesn’t feel much like mine anymore.

Aïcha’s face comes back to my mind. Her hand resting gently on mine. Compassionate.

"Maybe you should do some self-reflection, Simowiet. About yourself, I mean."

And

"I’m worried about you, you know."

There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.

It’s just not my day.

[fayesdiary]

Happy 2nd Anniversary!

Hello everyone!

Today marks the second anniversary of this blog! Wow, I can't believe it's been two years already! (Note, I created the blog earlier but February 4th 2019 was my first original post here so I use that date as the blog's birthday)

I'm honestly suprised this blog lasted this long, since I'm a very shy person usually on the Internet and commitment isn't exactly my strong suit. But what can I say? I love it here and Tumblr feels like home at this point!

To celebrate I'm gonna reminisce a little bit and write down my thoughts about this blog. It's gonna get really sappy, I'm sorry.

Just kidding. I'm not sorry at all.

2022 has truly been the year of all time. A lot and I mean a lot of ups and downs. I started and ended my first job, went on vacation, had one of the worst instances of allergy + depression, you name it. In hindsight, every few months I was in a wildly different situation and mental state.

But the thing that overall made 2022 great was finally getting into art! To turn the ironic hate off for a moment, I love Fire Emblem. It's not my favorite series (Kingdom Hearts and Kirby share that position), but it's one I still adore and now am truly greatful for, because for a reason or another it was the only one it felt welcoming enough to me to actively make an account about it and be active in social media rather than a ghost after years.

Before I made this blog I wrote a few supports for the fire-emblem-heroes-supports blog. I think they were the first piece of writing I ever made willingly and not as part of a school assignment, and looking back I still cherish them.

Eventually I had the idea for this blog, and after a lot of hesitation in typical me fashion, fayesdiary was born! I mentioned it a few times already, but originally it was meant to be just meta analysis posts, a few headcanons and theories and my sporadic writings. Overtime though it became a lot more freeform in what I posted, and I think it's all the better for it!

I got the courage to write and posts my first fanfictions and slowly carved my own personal space here on Tumblr. Like, a very cozy rat hole. Over time, this blog became a personal hobby and it gave me a lot of satisfactions. I got close to some people I truly admire and made a few friends too!

And boy, then we get to last year, which has been an absolute blast in terms of creativity!

I don't think I ever had in mind making a dialogue dump website of Awakening, but it happened and I had a lot of fun making it and giving it a lot of tiny details! ...even if its layout has the stability of a Jenga tower and it's just the Gangrel arc. Whatever. It's the thought that counts.

I wrote a bunch more! Not as much as I wanted, but I made some stories I'm really proud of. And I took part in a few fandom events and not just one but two Secret Santas for the first time!

I took a shot at making wallpapers and made some I'm really proud of, especially the Three Hopes ones. They were so fun to make and the process was just tons of fun!

And that leads nicely to... making art.

See, the thing about me is that I always sucked at making art. I couldn't keep my hands stable, I am incredibly clumsy and I couldn't draw anything more complicated than simple childlike doodles. And while I loved painting, the fact I felt incapable of making anything good or that I could like lead me to not even bothering to try. Why bother if you're just gonna be disappointed and frustrated, after all?

Until I got into group painting at around July, and I loved it. I made some paintings I truly like, and that eventually gave me the courage to start drawing again. As a half-joke. Only this time, I decided to draw with references, and my whole world got upside down. Turns out I could actually somewhat draw if I had a reference! And somehow I never realized it in years!

Something clicked. I figured it'd just be a thing I'd do for a week at most and then drop like so many other creative projects of mine, but... it stayed. Not only that, but I got more invested into it. I went from physical to digital (with the mouse!), and eventually shifted to a graphic tablet a friend lent me (and then pretty much gifted me). Eventually the drawings became so many I decided to make an art blog! Me! An art blog! The me from even just early 2022 would have called you insane if you said it! And now not just that, but I'm even making preparations to open a Redbubble shop! I still can't believe it!

And a huge part is thanks to this blog, really! It gave me and still keeps giving me the courage to try new stuff, find new friends and people who inspire me, and lets me know people enjoy what I make or say. It's amazing, and it makes me feel so happy!

I'll be honest, I am grateful to this blog. It truly helped me get into a better place, and I can confidently say ever since I opened it I feel a lot happier. And that's coming from the local cynical bastard who usually hates themselves, but now? I went from hating myself to being neutral at worst for the most part. Even if I still have my moments sometimes, but that's normal. And now I actually have hope for the future!

But really, it says a lot that for once at the New Year party I wasn't the one who claimed the next year was going to suck. Heck, I was actually caught off guard when one of my friends said it and I said no, it's gonna be good!

Anyway, enough rambling. What I want to say is, thank you for everything. Thank you to the people who complimented me or even just commented on the things I made. Thank you to my mutuals and anonymous lurkers. Yes, I know you're there, I was and often still am one of you. And most of all, thank you to all my online friends I made here on Tumblr. When I think about it, we haven't known each other for that long, but I want you to know now I can't imagine a life without you and you brighten my day every time we chat. I love you so much and I wish you nothing but the best<3

Here's to plenty more years of this blog!

[pbandjesse]

I was very nervous about today. My redo of my workshop that I had to cancel because I was so sick. But I was also excited. It was going to be a good day.

I didn't sleep great. It got really cold over night and the window next to me was open and my skin was super dry when I woke up. And my hair felt weird. I would braid it and try to moisturize my face. Mixed results on both fronts. But it was still a good day.

James drove us to the museum. We stopped for breakfast. And they would help me bring everything inside. Because they are the best.

I got everything set up. Stanley helped me out. We would chat for a bit as well. He's so sweet. His granddaughter was coming to the class today and I was looking forward to having her.

While I was mostly focused on setting up I would go check with James a few times about stuff. Eventually I was just sitting there while they ran to do something before the musuem opened. Where I got to meet the new security guard. Who is very much 'into' conspiracy theories. Not like me and Jordan are though. This guy like actually believes it.

So I decided to put crazy him. Oh there's chemicals in the water? Well all water used to be dinosaur pee. Oh the are poisoning is through the melting glaciers? Well did you know everyone who goes to Antarctica has to get their appendix removed? And that we have a new organ that was discovered in 2017??? Did not let this man get a word in edge wise, just absolutely info dumped on him. It tickled me to death. Bob the blacksmith was there too and was also giggling at me.

Soon though the museum was open and my workshop students were slowly trickling in. I have a great group!! A mom, grandma, and grandson. A mom and daughter and a grandmother and granddaughter. Two sets of couples. And the a single woman around my age and Stanley's granddaughter. And it was so fun.

There was a lot happening in the musuem today. Two different kinds of tours, blacksmith, photography, bread drop off in the parking lot, and a oyster cage workshop on the dock. So Auni was there but pulled all over. She would come and give me a little intro and then I was just in it. A full explanation of the museum and the history and the project. I ran through the tools and supplies. I was a little all over the place because I was so excited. But it was great.

I had gone and grabbed a lamp from the cannery when the first couple participants got there. They had said it was going to be hard to see their needle and with the lamp it wasn't so stupid in there. And that made everyone's lives easier. And when I was showing the first steps. Laying the pattern, Cutting the fabric, sewing a while stitch. Making sure your fabric was facing the right way. And then I had them get started. They jumped right in. And they did great.

I was surprised that a few people didn't want to use the sewing machine. That it totally fine. I did insist on Stanley's granddaughter trying again when she said she couldn't when I was actively watching her do it. I think she was just afraid of the machine. I wasn't going to force anyone though so I asked if she just wanted to hand sew and then I left her to it. She did great in the end.

The two little girls in the class has their own sewing machines so they didn't need much instruction. And it was fun just jumping around and checking on everyone.

When I would start someone on the sewing machine I think everyone though I was silly because I always take my boot off. I see better barefoot. Because I can feel the peddle better. And in the end we didn't break any needles at all.

The program lasted two hours. And I really just had lovely conversations with everyone. It was a beautiful day.

People would slowly leave as they finished their bears. I got pictures of almost all of them. And then it was time to clean up. The little girls had helped collect all my fabric. And I tried to find all my needles. I was in a great mood.

When I went up to the front to bring my machine and bags I saw that it was snowing!! It wasnt sticking but it was beautiful. I know it's going to be March but I wish it would snow. Not having snow this season made me sad.

But this was beautiful. And after I was done putting away the chairs and tables I stood at the window wall and watched it for a while.

Then all of a sudden the fire alarm went off. And there was a lot of people inr the museum today and they all started trying to evacuate!! It was scary cause James made an announcement but we couldn't understand them. But I went to the front and they weren't there. Which is when I realized it wasn't our building it was happening next door. Everything was fine. We got everyone back inside. James came back. It was a false alarm and everything was safe. Startling though!!

I finished getting my stuff together and took it to the car. And then went up to the education office to sit with James for a few minutes. They were exhausted. I gave them many hugs and then I headed home.

It was still flurrying on my drive. And it was so pretty. I love the snow.

I got back here and I was happy to be home. I was a little tired. Eating lunch helped. I also did some cleaning. I vacuumed and did a partial water change on the aquariums. I put some stuff away. I made some outfits. And then I would chill on the couch and decided to jump back into my sticker idea.

I changed into warmer clothes and then I was able to really focus. I want to design stickers sheets. So I started drawing bears and accessories. And it was a fun way to spend the afternoon.

James got home and they were kind of a mess. Coughing and red in the face and sneezing. They were really exhausted and didn't feel great.

They would sit on the couch with me and we brain stormed and came up with a great idea about making the stickers clear so you can design them yourself. And they are going to research that for me. Cost and stuff.

But because they still didn't feel good I encouraged them to take a shower and put on something cozy. And once they did they didn't look so rough.

James would make some bread. Somehow it got off kilter and knocked a whole bunch of stuff off the counter and scared us all. But it was okay. James made us breakfast for dinner and we ate it in bed. And I felt really happy.

I was going to wash my hair tonight but I decided I will do that tomorrow morning. But I still took a shower and now we are in bed. I am feeling good. But man am I tired.

I hope you all had a good day. I have no plans for tomorrow and that feels nice. Sleep well everyone. Take care of each other!!

[selene-and-the-cold]

Update, since I spoke too soon.

So yesterday I was all like "Oh yeah, things actually went well, this is nice."

I spoke too soon, though.

Today we had a group project and every member of the group had an assigned task. It was supposed to be a task you're not good at to broaden your horizon and skills.

Let me tell you: I sucked at my task, panicked, forgot basic knowledge like how to open a folder on the computer because of said panic and was altogether useless until some other person just took over my task and did my stuff even though I was willing to still do it. I just panicked because people kept asking if I got it like every two minutes and then one person said "You do know that we won't have a finished project if you don't get a grip on your part of the project."

They later said it was meant as a sarcastic joke, but since I was already panicking about this inwardly, I did not get the sarcasm and went into full panic mode afterwards.

I really hate these kinds of projects thanks to childhood school trauma™️ which I won't go into detail here, but being the weak link in a group project sucks and my fear of being the weak link makes me basically useless in these situations.

So yeah... today... not great.

Sorry to ramble on about this on here, but I don't know where to vent about this right now and I need to tell someone or I'll cry in the group later on, so sorry snzblr for this emotion dump.

Will probably delete later. Just... wow... things went downhill so fast.

Not snz.

So there is this work thing coming up where I have to be away from my home on a work trip for several days with all new colleagues and I am so anxious about it.

New environment, new people, no place for introvert me to retreat to in case I need to.

[laheysdork]

strangers - stiles stilinski

summary: you decided that he’s a stranger to you a long time ago, but what if tragedy strikes and the only person that could help you is him?

word count: 4.8k

warnings: cursing, fights, angst, slight fluff, vomit?, a little violence

a/n: so sorry i have been mia for months, i moved out and am finally living (as in not being stuck in my room all the time) i have this enemies-to-lovers fic siting for the longest time in my draft so hope yall like it! the italic bolded ones are flashbacks in case it gets pretty confusing. and i would like to apologize beforehand 🤠

masterlist

Strangers—they’re not always the people we don’t know. Some of them can be by choice, someone we chose to forget.

Sighing at the thought of another dreadful day at school, you drag your feet towards your first class. Your muscle memory kicking in, you pick the seat at the back corner, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible as you wish you can hide under a huge invisible cloak. After dumping your bag onto the floor next to the table, your body lazily sinks into the chair. Shuffling inside the pocket of your hoodie, you take out your phone and click it on, looking at the time.

7.50 A.M.

For once, you are early. Class starts at 8, so you have an extra 10 minutes to waste. As you begin to think about ways to kill the time, you hear two familiar voices growing louder as they enter the class.

You know those voices by heart. The voices that would always cheer you up when you were sad, the voices that continuously came up with jokes every day, but also the same voices that have shattered the only living soul you have left. How could one bring so much joy but also pain?

“Come on, Stiles. Star Wars? Again? Don’t you have any other movies to watch for our weekly movie nights?” you grumbled irritatedly.

“Last week, Scott picked some lame-ass rom-com and forced us to sit through it so this week it’s MY turn for revenge.” He emphasized the ‘my’ and crossed his arms across his chest, smirking at the thought of his genius evil plan.

“Fine, but next week I’m making you watch Spiderman.”

His curled lips dropped flat instantly. “Spiderman? Y/N, you know I am a DC man. Why would you do this to me?” he whined in disbelief which earned a maniacal laugh from you.

“Well, as you said before Stilinski, that is MY turn for revenge.”

Losing yourself in your thoughts, 10 minutes have long passed as the coach abruptly enters the classroom.

“This is the right class, right? Yeah, I think so.” He mumbles to himself as he places his stuff onto the teacher’s desk and clears his throat.

“Since I’m busy today, you will be doing a pair project.”

And the class goes wild.

“Hey, shut up. I’m not done yet.” Coach yells which gradually silences the class.

“Before all of you got too happy, I will be picking the pairs. Some of you depended on other students too much and that is not good.” He shakes his head, trailing off the subject.

“So, uhm, I’m just going to write the pairs on the board and the instructions. While I’m at it, please for the love of God shut your mouth.”

You are surprised. As a generally unlucky person, today doesn’t seem so bad. You won’t have to sit through coach’s lectures for 2 periods, which you consider as a total win.

However, your triumph does not last long as the words written messily on the board haunt you.

Pair 3: Y/F/N Y/L/N, Stiles Stilinski

Fuck-

“Okay, so all you have to do is collect some general information regarding the market structures and make a mind map. Simple. Now, huddle up with your buddies and get to work.”

Even after everyone starts grouping up with their partners, you are still slumped in the corner, not having any sort of will or energy left to interact with Stiles Stilinski.

Thankfully (or not), Stiles decides to make the first move, his silhouette towering your sitting figure. As you strictly look at your phone, a loud screech filled your ears, Stiles noisily dragging a vacant chair next to your table.

“Y/N,” he called in a tone you can’t quite comprehend.

God.

“Yeah,” you replied bluntly, glancing up.

“I- um, I wanted to say-“

“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you.”

In fact, you actually can. Hell, you even know what he’s about to say. But you do not brace yourself for this. You can barely look at him, let alone talk to him.

“Hey, movie night at 7?” You nudged on Stiles' arms, startling him, busy going through a bunch of papers on his desk.

“Uhh, no. I’m busy tonight.” He glanced to you for a second then proceeds to occupy himself.

“Okay, how about tomorrow?”

Missing your best friends, you were determined to get the band back together. Stiles and Scott had been exceptionally busy for the past few days and you were not quite sure why.

At first, you thought maybe it had something to do with the new girl, Allison. Scott seemed to be all over her. But then there was that creepy peculiar guy, Derek, who was borderline stalking them. They started to ditch you alone, running off to some secret mission, and you were tired of it. Why were they keeping it from you? Did they not trust you enough?

“Also busy,” he muttered, his focus still fully on the pile of paper. Your mouth gaped to come up with something that would get them to spend time with you but was interrupted by the ringing of the bell. In a flash, Stiles stood up, aimlessly gathering his papers, and zoomed out of the class, leaving your deadpanned state unattended.

From the widely-opened door, you could see Stiles rushing over to Scott. He told Scott something inaudible unless you got some sort of super-hearing, but from the look on Scott’s face, it must’ve been urgently distressing. Both of them bolted out of the school together without you, once again.

“I’ll do the monopoly and monopolistic competition and you do perfect competition and oligopoly. I’ll draw the mind map after school,” you state clearly and monotonously, wanting to quickly get this over with.

“Y/N, I-“

“Is it unclear?” you snap, rather cold.

“No, but-“

“Okay, then. You better start reading.” You heavily lift your book out of the bag and drop it on top of your table.

“What the hell just happened? Scott? Stiles?”

Your quizzical eyes darted waveringly between the two jittery boys, confused and infuriated.

Earlier, the boys had invited you, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson to come over and study. For a while there, you were hopeful. You thought that this small gathering could be a step closer to things going back to how it was, but displeasingly, you were absolutely mistaken.

“I don’t know, it’s-“

“What kind of lie are you coming up with now huh, Stiles? I know you know something!” you confronted.

“Y/N, we didn’t-“

“Oh, you think I didn’t notice? That guy Derek? Then both of you suddenly went M.I.A for days? And don’t get me started with the ‘Sorry, Deaton needs me at the clinic’ or ‘Sorry, my dad called me, gotta go’. We’ve been friends since we were 10 for fucks sake!”

Gladly the three of you were left alone because you were furiously shouting at this point. Allison offered to drive Lydia home the moment she sensed the unnerving tension between the three of you.

“And now, even after whatever that thing is just almost killed us, you still think I don’t deserve to know the truth?”

You shot the two boys death glares through your teary eyes which they actively try to avoid. They looked miserably guilty, something you currently want them to feel.

“You know what, I’m done. Don’t bother chasing after me to explain. I can just ask Allison.” And with that bitter statement, you left the two stunned boys standing frozen on the front porch.

Both of you are quietly reading through the materials and highlighting the key points. You silently thank Stiles for not trying to initiate another awkward conversation, which probably is caused by your previous intimidation.

Luckily, time seems to fly as the bell rings, indicating the end of the class. Not wanting to spend another second in this hellhole, you immediately left the class.

Following that incident, Stiles and Scott tried to reach you for days. Your phone would constantly light up once every few hours with either Scott’s or Stiles’ name lighting up the lockscreen.

After a week or so, the calls eventually came to a halt. You were relieved the ongoing calls that you have convinced yourself were bothering you stopped. But deep down all those denials, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that they gave up on you so effortlessly.

At the same time, you couldn’t blame them either. You were pretty ruthless.

Things never went back to normal. You avoided them at all cost, stop sitting at their table, vowing to never speak to them ever again.

You knew that keeping grudges would eventually hurt you more than it should but you were headstrong.

They did not trust you. They lied to you. They have made their bed and now you’re just simply letting them sleep on it.

However, this didn’t stop you from being attentive towards them. From time to time, you tried to keep tabs on them by checking in with Allison. But that was until she passed away.

The news left you completely devastated and heartbroken. Even though you were not on good terms with Scott and Stiles, you were still close with Allison.

She was your best friend. She patiently supported you through the heartache of losing your two best friends, she taught you how to stand strong independently, she gave you hope on the brighter days that had yet to come, but most importantly, she trusted you when Scott and Stiles didn’t.

You were also aware of the whole void situation, which pained you more than you thought it would. The thought of the vibrant, eccentric Stiles going through unspeakable agony and remorse wrecked you.

During Allison’s funeral, you decided that letting your distant facade down just for a day to console the pack won’t kill you.

Approaching them after the reception, a surprised look was painted on each of their faces, especially Scott and Stiles. You gave your condolences to everyone and hugged Stiles and Scott, something you haven’t done in ages. Their bodies stiffen from your unexpected action, but soon they melt into the hug and cling onto you tightly, finally accepting that you were really embracing them.

After pulling apart, you excused Scott to give you and Stiles a moment alone.

“Stiles, I know you’re thinking that this is your fault but listen to me, it is not. You were not in control. You were not you. You did not do this.”

Upon hearing comforting words from his long-lost friend, he let out an excruciating sob. Instinctively, you pulled him into your embrace once again as he squeezed you tighter.

You might not be able to forgive him yet but at least you could be there with him through this disastrous nightmare.

The whole day, you try to steer clear of Stiles or the pack. You know he’s trying to get a hold of you, probably wanting to discuss the unfinished project; but we don’t need to add more to the plate, don’t we?

Once school ended, you quickly rush home. From a distance, you can hear Stiles call out your name. But being the excellent evader you claim to be, you ignore them.

Just as you think the day can’t get any worse, the doorbell in your house chimes, indicating a guest present on your doorsteps. You sigh, knowing who is standing behind that door and this time you can’t dodge it.

So much for being an excellent evader.

“What?” you ask, getting straight to the point.

“We haven’t finished our project. I want to help you do the mind map.” He stares at you innocently, fumbling with his hands.

After all these years and he still got those puppy eyes.

“It’s fine, I can do it myself.” You try closing the door but he beats you to it.

“Come on, Y/N. I don’t want you ratting me out to Coach for forced labor, so please just let me in and we’ll work on it together,” he whines, hand still holding the door open.

Even after everything, you still can’t bring yourself to decline him. You have always had a soft spot for Stiles, which you are planning to terminate because it is starting to be troublesome.

“Fine,” you grunt in defeat.

A favorable grin is plastered on his face as he steps into your house.

Things seemed to change after Allison’s death. You noticed fresh faces joining the pack while familiar ones went away.

But out of the several new members, one had caught your eye the most. Her name’s Malia if you’re not mistaken; a snarky brunette, who’s built like a model too by the way.

From what you could tell from the persistent PDA, she was dating Stiles. Yeah, you weren’t exactly in a position to have a say on it, but you were getting real sketchy vibes from her, or so you thought.

“Stiles, you’re still coming over right?” you heard Malia speak to your ex-best friend as you opened your locker across from them.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll teach you maths too since you’re so bad at it.” You tried not to overhear their conversation but you just couldn’t help it.

“Thanks. You’re the best!” she cried out as she treaded away from Stiles, a pang striking your chest.

Maybe, you’re just slightly jealous.

Okay, slightly was an understatement.

It seemed like you’re still unable to completely erase your suppressed attraction towards him, even when clearly he had.

To minimize any sort of unnecessary interaction, you try to fully put your focus on the project—which works. For the past 15 minutes, the two of you are settled in your living room in silence, minding your own business.

At least until Stiles decides to be clumsy and drop his plastic cup, water spilling all over the floor. You roll your eyes and grab a cloth from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he curses under his breath as you are drying up the floor.

“It’s fine.”

No actually, it’s not. This situation right here is not fine. You’ve had the shittiest day at school and to make it even worse, Stiles decides to show up uninvitedly at your house which is supposedly your only stress-free zone.

“I’ll help you clean it up.” He squats down, trying to get the cloth from your grip.

“No, you don’t have to.” You don’t want him to cause any more inconvenience, even though you know very well he doesn’t mean it.

“I want to help Y/N, I-“

“What, Stiles? You want to help? Then please for the love of God, leave me alone!” You stand up and snap at him, a bit too loudly. You feel bad for being too hard on him when he’s only trying to help, but you’re unable to extinguish your growing anger.

He straightens up, his once warm face turn into an enraged frown.

“Is this still about what happened back then? Fuck, Y/N. I’ve said sorry, Scott has, thousands of times. But you still don’t want to forgive us. So tell me now Y/N, what should I do, huh?”

The sudden increase in his volume catch you by surprise. He has always been so radiant and carefree, you have never seen him this mad. But despite that, the rage inside of you still does not subdue.

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Stiles. You think that I get to choose not to forgive you, that I’m the evil one and maybe I am at some point. But don’t you dare pull the victim card here.”

Your sight becomes blurry as your eyes start to sting from all the overwhelming emotions but you can care less.

“You lied to me. You left me alone, confused, scared, even after knowing very well how my mom lied to me about my father abandoning me. You know how much I relied on you and Scott, but you still broke my trust. You hurt me. And you think a bunch of “sorry”s will immediately fix that? It’s not that simple, Stiles.”

You’re not screaming as loud as you did before. The tone of your voice softens as a new emotion takes control over your body—pain.

Frustrated, Stiles rummages through his hair while letting out a scoff.

“But it’s not just a bunch of “sorry”s isn’t it? We kept on calling you after that day. We tried approaching you at school. Fuck, I even tried to be nice to you earlier today. But guess what I got in return? Another silent treatment. Why can’t you just fucking move on already? You’re being too overdramatic. No wonder your mom lied to you.”

Bang. His words hit you like a bullet, piercing right through your heart.

Your once agape mouth closes shut, your furrowed eyebrows straighten. Stiles has crossed the line this time.

“Get out,” you spat, emotionless.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to-“

“I SAID GET OUT, STILES,” you yell at the top of your lungs, frightening him. With horror painted all over his face, he immediately picks up his bag and exits your house, too frightened to say anything else.

As the door shuts, more tears start to flow down your cheeks. You are exhausted. Today’s fiascos have drained every ounce of energy you have left, leaving you like a corpse.

After getting your lifeless, sickly self to shower, you directly plop into your bed, curling yourself in the soft quilt of your blanket. Needing an escape from this dreadful reality, you flutter your eyes shut, instantaneously falling asleep.

You wake up to your accustomed alarm, growling at the blaring sound you set. Finally having enough will to get out of bed, you head to your bathroom.

Turning on the lights, your reflection in the mirror stares back at you.

Gosh, you look dead.

Your skin is as pale as a sheet, your eyes are puffy with prominent dark circles forming under them, your hair is messy and icky. You feel disgustingly terrible.

Dabbing a whole lot of concealer on your skin, you get ready for school; deciding to put whatever catastrophe that had happened yesterday behind you.

Fortunately, you only have one class with Stiles for the day. The day goes by pretty fast and to your delight, pretty decent too, probably because you spend a few periods in the infirmary.

But again, the universe seems to find so much pleasure in inflicting pain on you.

Midway through the class, a sharp sting strikes your head. Interrupting Mr. Yukimura, you excuse yourself to leave the class.

As you reach the empty halls, you feel an eerie sensation creeping all over your body. Alarmed for some reason you don’t know, you scan the halls hastily. You can see nothing, but you do hear something. A bug-like, rattling noise gradually fills your ears, followed by a raspy, unearthly wheeze.

What the fuck is happening?

You’re shivering, cold sweats covering your body. Not being able to stand the unknown terrors, you abruptly sprint to the vacant locker room.

Bad idea. Should’ve picked a more crowded room.

Securing yourself in a room alone definitely does not make you feel any safer. The rattling has stopped but the ominous feeling only grew more prominent.

You are about to escape before sudden nausea hits you. Before you knew it, your knees drop to the floor, your throat retching, vomiting a slimy, ink-like substance.

Now you are horrified.

The door to the locker room flies open, showing two familiar figures. Their eyes find your unusually glowing whiskey-colored ones.

“Fuck, she’s one of them,” Stiles spoke, eyes fixated only on you.

Scott rushes over to you as Stiles stands still, trying to let the sight in front of him sink in. While bracing your fragile body to a steady sitting position, Scott checks in on you with a few “are you okay?”s to which you shake your head.

“What is happening to me, Scott?” you question, panic in your eyes.

After hearing a very complicated and detailed explanation about chimeras and the dread doctors, you are left speechless in front of all the members of the pack who came running right away at the bad news a while ago when you were still seated frozen in a shocked haze.

“Okay so, let me summarize everything,” you mutter so softly to the point it sounds like a whisper while standing up, Stiles hands instinctively finding your body to support you.

“I am a chimera, which is a scientifically-made supernatural creature. The dread doctors, the psychos who are behind this, are going to take me away,” you enunciate to the pack—more like to yourself—to prove your understanding of the matter in which Scott nods in return.

He then tries to come up with a plan to save you from being taken, but you’re not really listening.

Even though you look composed, you are actually on edge, occasionally convincing yourself that everything is under control.

From the very little you heard, basically, they plan on keeping you here in the locker room for the rest of the day—something to do with the telluric currents.

After the plan is finalized, everyone departs for their appointed roles, leaving only one person behind to watch over you.

Out of everyone in the pack, why him?

“I have a spare shirt in my locker, do you maybe want to change into them?” Stiles pointed to your now stained white T-shirt.

You are about to refuse the boy’s offer but looking at the matching black splatter on your shirt and the floor makes you feel queasy, so you comply.

“Okay, we’ll go to the boy’s locker room and leave this mess here.”

“We should clean it-“

“No, you’re not in the state to do any work. I’ll ask someone to clean it up later.” He grabs your arm and leads you out the door to the boy’s locker room, which is no different than the girl’s, pretty disappointing.

Stiles rummages his locker for a second before handing his grey shirt to you.

You stare at him, waiting for him to give you some privacy to change your clothes. But it seems like he isn’t getting the memo.

“What?” he blurts so blatantly as you sigh in return.

Oh God has he always been this slow?

“Are you planning on cheating on Malia? Because I’m about to change here and unless you’re blind, you’re going to have to see me pretty much naked.” His jaw drops at your snarky remark. His face growing warmer as it’s tinted with a crimson color.

“O-Oh yeah, of course. I’m no longer dating Malia though but uhh that’s not important. I’ll turn around- Or do you want me to leave the room? I can do that.” He fidgeted, totally taken aback and flustered.

“Don’t leave me alone, please. Just turn around.”

Both of you are astonished by your statement. But it’s the truth. Alone, you were petrified. At least being with Stiles makes you feel a little more secure.

Just a day ago you were shouting for him to leave, but now you practically begged him to stay. How ironic.

After you have changed into his cozy oversized shirt which for the record smells like his aftershave that you liked, you keep away your dirty shirt, sit on the bench beside him, and thank him.

Once again, silence befalls the both of you. The air between you two today has somehow shifted from yesterday. It’s still thick and tensed, but not full of rage and resentment.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he mutters after a while with his head low.

“Stiles-“

“No, I have to say it. You were right. I was so stupid. I should have never blamed you for not being able to trust me. I’ve hurt you, Y/N, and I deserve this.” His regretful honey eyes are fixed deeply into yours.

Despite the guilt building up inside your body, you do not reply to him straight away. You need time to process this.

Are you still mad at him? Yes. But do you feel bad for being mean towards him? Also yes.

As you are contemplating, the door to the locker room swings open, revealing Scott and the others.

Liam is clutching a large navy duffel bag in his hand, its contents still a mystery to you. Lydia and a man who you aren’t familiar with are carrying a bunch of radio transmitters. Malia is holding a steel bat, which later on is passed over to Stiles.

Once they are all inside, they start to get busy. Lydia, Stiles, and the guy—Parrish, according to what you heard the pack calls him—go around the room, placing the equipment all over it. Malia and Liam are near the door, pushing the shelves to cover all the exits except the main one. And Scott is hovering over the duffel bag which was placed earlier on the bench across you.

He slowly zips the bag open, inspecting it. Being your inquisitive self, you lift your head up to get a better view. But before you get a sight of anything, Scott zips it back close and takes it with him.

After everyone’s done with their designated tasks, they all gather to form a small circle, yourself included.

“Okay, Lydia and Parrish, you two stay in the car outside. Malia and Liam, stand by in the halls. Me, Stiles, and Y/N will stay here. Got it?” Scott instructs clearly to which everybody nods and proceed to their assigned areas.

All of them seem so prepared as if they are properly equipped for battle, except you.

Minutes have passed as there is no sign of the dread doctors. You are sitting quietly on the bench, fumbling with your fingers as Stiles and Scott pace around the room.

Your eyes darted from the two mobile boys to the duffel bag resting on the bench in front of you. Now, you’re curious.

When Scott isn’t looking, you swiftly slide to the opposite bench and zip the bag open, uncovering a bunch of weighty chains.

“What are these for?” Your voice echoes through the noiseless room, earning glances from them both.

“I brought them, just in case.” Scott moves closer to where you are.

“In case of what?” You don’t quite understand what he is implying.

“In case we have a chance to catch one of them,” Scott answered composedly.

“What?” Stiles snaps from behind Scott.

“If we can’t make the school a fortress, maybe we can make it a trap.” Scott’s attempt to explain to the two of you only receives a scoff of disbelief from Stiles.

“And you’re making her the bait?” he questions sharply.

“That’s not what I said-“

“Yeah, right.” Stiles rolls his eyes as Scott glances over to you, an apologetic look plastered on his face.

You don’t know what to feel about this situation. Yes, you are hurt that Scott possibly considered you as bait. But rationally, he does have a point. At the same time, you are also impressed at Stiles' initiative to immediately defend you.

“Wait a minute, I hear something. I’ll go out and check it. You two stay here.” Before any of you can protest, Scott fleets out of the room.

And then there’s two. Awkward silence once again engulfs the two of you. But this time, you’re the one who breaks it.

“Thank you, for defending me,” you utter gently as he sat beside you.

“Of course, Y/N. Always. I will always protect you.” He grasps your hands into his, giving you a reassuring smile, relieved that you finally drop your cold exterior.

The long-awaited moment of truce you two are sharing is sadly interrupted by the familiar rattling noise that unexpectedly appeared, causing you to stand up, followed by Stiles.

“Stiles, I hear them,” you quiver, fear rushing through your body.

“Me too. Hey, Scott?” He forms a half-circle using his palms, cupping them around this mouth. He continues to call out his best friend’s name a few more times before he retreats.

“Where the fuck is he?” Exasperated and worried, he restlessly gazes around the room.

“They’re coming, Stiles.” Feeling hopeless and discouraged, you put your hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his agitated body. You have accepted your fate. They’re taking you away.

“No, I’m not letting them take you.” His hands caress the sides of your arms, tears forming in his eyes.

“They will.” Your palms cup his face, thumb wiping away the warm teardrops streaming down his cheeks.

Mirroring your actions, he also cups your cheeks, staring at the little details of your face, memorizing them like it’s the last time he’ll get to be close to you.

Then he tilts his head and leans closer, shutting the distance between your lips. Fluttering your previously widened eyes shut, your lips passionately brushed along his plump ones as your hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, heart pounding loudly, warmth radiating throughout your body.

Just as he initiated it, he pulls away, honey eyes never leaving yours.

“I will find you, okay?” You nod as shadows appear behind Stiles’ figure.

The dread doctors.

He also sensed their presence as he immediately snatches his bat from the bench. He commands you to stay behind him which you obey.

Cowering behind Stiles’ figure, they have the two of you cornered and helpless. He tightens his grip and aggressively swings his bat at one of them but to no avail. Inching closer, they shove him away, grabbing a hold of both your arms.

You’re hysterically crying out for help, vigorously attempting to break free. Forcefully holding you still, they jab a sharp needle to the side of your neck as your limp body dropped to the ground. Your vision turns dark, the last thing you see is Stiles’ unconscious body lying in front of you.

[chokemewanda]

Whispers

You had heard all there was to hear about your life and where you actually came from.

Warnings: swearing, men, canon typical violence, men being men

Rumors Masterlist

“I heard she worked on the cure for cancer and she found it but the government won’t let her produce it because it would ruin the economy so now she’s on more watch lists than the Black Widow.”

“Well I heard she worked on the Winter Soldier Project and now she’s here cause she’s the only one who can control him.”

“I heard that too but I heard she started in The Red Room. She was the one who gave them all their graduation gifts, you know?”

“Well I heard she was actually the one who had gotten the calculations wrong and turned Doctor Banner into the Hulk.”

Every version of every rumor had, at one point or another, been muttered in your presence. You were the consulting physician in Avengers tower, spending most your day with agents injured in battle.

You had taken over for an imbecile. He had been too easy on the agents, allowing room for recurring injuries and signing off on return to field requests much too early.

So now you were the hardass. The one who could cure cancer but chose not to, the one that sterilized little girls and froze prisoners of war. You were the horror story Med Students learned about when they walked in the door of Stark Tower with starry eyes.

Sometimes it made you laugh. You’d wave away the comments, writing your favorite ones down to tell your friends over brunch. Other times it led to tired sighs and stitches just a little too tight.

Today was a stitches too tight kind of day. You had fourteen injured agents dumped in your lap in the early hours of the morning. You had been catching a few minutes sleep in an on call room only to suddenly have your floor flooded.

It had only gotten worse from there. Two of your medics were among the injured and only one nurse had shown up for the graveyard shift. So here you were running triage on some of the most impatient agents you had ever met.

Four of your most injured had taken up over two hours of your time, arranging for consultations with Helen Cho and her cradle. They were badly burned and you were doing all you could to keep them comfortable, your one nurse attending to them with cooling gels, and cold flannels.

The next group who needed the priority care consisted of two stabilized bullet wounds and a broken jaw bone. You were glad that neither of the bullet patients needed operating. Just a removal for one, stitches for both.

The broken jaw patient would require surgery and you were waiting for a team to take on that case, the resident Orthopedic doctor was currently proving difficult to contact.

The remaining seven agents had an assortment of easily solved problems. A few dislocations, a couple of stitches. Nothing serious.

Not that you’d think it from the groaning and complains you got as you rushed between their beds, reading charts and signing off on their medication, distributed by a student medic with shaky hands.

“Hey sweetheart, you think you could bother yourself to check my shoulder out. I been waiting almost four hours.” You moved Agent King’s file to the bottom of the pile while holding direct eye contact. “Bitch.”

You tossed his file right into the trash, ignoring his protest. If you were a worse person you’d have jostled him while moving to check on his neighbors stab wound.

“You talk to me in that tone once more King and you can go find another doctor to treat you.” You warned, accepting the suture kit your loyal nurse handed over.

“Imagine asking you to do your job.” He scoffed and you rolled your eyes, looking up when there was a throat cleared.

“You called for help?” An unlikely duo stood at the end of the bed you were at. Doctor Banner and The Black Widow dressed in civilian clothes.

“From people with medical experience.” You told him warily. “I’m short staffed.”

“We’ll I’m a doctor and Nat has field medic training.” Bruce offered and you nodded to yourself. You could work with that.

“You know how to suture?” You asked Dr. Banner who nodded, rolling his sleeves up. “Bed nine needs a stab wound closed and bed eleven.”

Without another word Dr. Banner disappeared off to find his work. Natasha remained in place, awaiting orders.

“You know how fix a dislocated shoulder?” You asked and she nodded.

“Yes ma’am.” She promised solemnly and you found yourself smiling.

“Then get this asshole behind me sorted, give him a sling and kick him out.” You jerked your head back to nod at King who only scowled.

“No problem.”

///

Eight hours later your burn patients were post-op, most of the agents had been treated and discharged and you were about to give handover to the incoming staff.

Your tiny team of Nurse Aya, the trainee medic Haley, and Eric, a trained medic were all exhausted, almost asleep standing up. Doctor Banner was filling in reports, detailing the care he had provided and medication he had prescribed.

Natasha was on a coffee run, hoping to provide everyone with enough of a caffeine kick to get them home.

You planned to just crash in the on-call room, afraid if you attempted to get the subway home you’d be asleep long after your stop.

“I think that’s it for now.” Dr. Banner handed you your file with a small smile, all the patients details up to date.

///

“I’m not treating you.” You resolutely took a seat on the bed opposite the one filled with an outraged agent. He was almost red in the face with anger. You didn’t care.

“You ain’t got a choice. I do my job, you do yours.” He hissed and your raised your eyebrows before laughing at him.

“Sex workers have all my respect but I’m not one of them. I attempted to stitch you up twice now. You made it uncomfortable both times. I’m now refusing treatment.” You told Agent King.

The Agent had somehow managed to get stabbed in the thigh, while off duty. He came to you for treatment and you attempted to treat him twice.

Both times he had twisted under the pretense of pain, causing your hands to brush against more intimate areas.

“I need stitches!” He insisted and you shrugged at him, uncaring. It wasn’t your fault he was a pervert and you weren’t really required to treat anyone not injured on the job.

“You stupid-“

The gentle throat clearing happened from behind you. Doctor Banner stood to the side of the bed you were sat on, wringing his hands together.

“Friday said you needed some help again.” You silently thanked the AI in the ceiling, a grin coming over your lips.

“I do. Agent King needs stitches and seems to be refusing my care.” You hopped off the bed, trading places with Bruce who examined the cut from a distance, looking between you and King.

“He refused care?” Bruce asked, looking over his glasses at you and you attempted to hide your smile.

“He refused care that didn’t involve a hand job.” King sputtered at your phrasing and Bruce rolled his eyes, turning back to the lousy agent.

“Is it sore here?” Banner dung his finger into the cut and King hissed, pulling away in pain. “I’ll take that as a yes. Do stay still, I’d hate to stitch other parts to your leg by accident.”

Doctor Banner found you in your office less than twenty minutes later, his folded glasses in hand and stray strands of hair falling down in his face. You admired him for a moment before standing from your seat.

“Thank you. I appreciate you coming down.” You told him earnestly. “King is a pain.”

“Seems it.” Bruce nodded in agreement. “Figured there’s no harm in helping you. You know, for old times sake?”

You blinked at him before his grin took over his face and you knew he was referencing the rumors of you having a hand in the creation of The Hulk.

“Clearly I need to be supervised.” You laughed and he ran a hand up through his hair, returning the stray strands to place.

“You also look like you need a coffee. Would you like to come get one with me?” Your smile grew slightly strained as the good doctor grew bashful. “Or not.”

“I appreciate the offer Bruce but I can’t leave the floor while I’m on call.” You told him softly and he smiled, accepting your rejection with dignity.

“Another time then.” Both of you knew that he wouldn’t ask again. Something you appreciated.

///

The elevator to the Medical floor opened and you shut your eyes tightly because if you didn’t see them then they didn’t exist.

“Hey Doc, you miss me?” Clint Barton asked. He seemed to be in the best condition of the five with him besides Natasha who was supporting him.

“Not even remotely. What’d you do this time?” You asked with a sigh as your team fanned out, picking agents and leading them to a bed.

“I have most definitely broke the thirteenth rib on my left side.” He told you, holding a hand over his abdomen. “Maybe on the right side.”

“I gotta say, you must have tried really hard. Given that last time I gave you a chest x-ray you only had twelve ribs on either side.” You told him as Natasha helped him up on to the bed.

“I’m just that talented.” He told you with a winning smile and then a wince. “Or that stupid.”

“I know which option I’m going with.” You sighed and turned to the trolley that Aya had prepared for you. You smiled at her graciously before turning back to Clint

“How come you smile at other people but not me?” Clint asked with a pout. You ignored him, pulling out a scissors and reaching for the top of his suit. “No way, this is the third this month. Fury will kill me.”

“You’re such a fucking baby. It’s not like you can pull it off right now.” You snapped and he looked around, grappling for something to distract you.

“Natasha needs treatment too! She got stabbed.” He told you quickly and you looked back to Natasha who shrugged.

“Bed eight is free. Ask Aya for a suture kit.” You told her, returning to Clint. He only pouted at you because he knew there was no point arguing. Natasha did her own stitches. You just provided the materials she would need.

“How come she gets to treat herself?” Clint asked. He was in a mood. A ridiculous mood.

“Shut up.”

///

After two hours, one shredded uniform and a whiny Clint, you found Natasha laying on bed eight, an untouched suture kit beside her. She had her jaw clenched, a familiar sweatshirt on and her own uniform pulled down to her hips.

“Where’d you get stabbed?” You asked her conversationally. You pulled up a stool, rolling to her bedside. She didn’t answer you but she didn’t have to. If she could reach where she needed the stitches she wouldn’t still be here. “Roll over.”

She did so without a sound and you lifted your sweatshirt- the one you had worn in this morning - up to find a wad of gauze secured to her back with medical tape haphazardly.

“You could’ve called me over.” You sighed, gently peeling away the tape. “I would’ve appreciated getting away from Clint sooner.”

Natasha laughed and you sighed, cleaning the wound. She wouldn’t talk to you much, given how vulnerable she was making herself just by allowing treatment.

In the time you’d been working in Stark Tower you had only stitched Natasha one other time and that was because she had been unconscious. She never asked for help, often to the detriment of her own health.

When you finished up with the neat row of stitches you placed a cover over it and pulled her, your, sweatshirt back down.

“You can keep it.” You sighed when she reached to take it off. “Pulling your suit up will just burst the stitches.”

She didn’t say anything but you left her to it, making your way back to your paperwork. When you returned to check on her she was gone, along with your sweatshirt and Clint.

[rvp32]

Caring Sunbae Jihyp

One day after training, jihyo is frustrated. Jihyo has been practicing for years in jyp, she spent her entire childhood in the JYP building. Jihyo like all other women also had a side for her sexual desires. From a very young age, she has been following orders on how to behave what to eat when to sleep what to speak how to dress and how to project herself in the public. Somehow, this had an impact in her desires, she loved to be dominating in her world of sex. Jihyo being the senior member in the JYP as an idol of the girl group, she used that to her advantage for sexual desires. The young trainees new to JYP asked jihyo to do some favors for their way to become idols and tips on how to be the best, who better to ask than the child prodigy Jihyo. For every favor jihyo owned them and made them be her slaves in sex, some of them hated to have sex with jihyo and regret it but some dirty little whores in JYP enjoyed it. We are gonna look into the day when she got frustrated. Jihyo was feeling bad, 

then she crossed paths with Itzy Yuna and lia. They noticed as soon they saw her, Yuna asked unnie what happened, Jhiyo was like I am frustrated as hell working continuously for weeks I want to put my mind off, Yuna being the dirty little slut asked jihyo whether she is available today night, Jihyo knew what she was up to, jihyo said do you want to be my dirty little slut you bitch? Yuna said “hmm I want it so bad, the juice from your pussy tasted good and all the spanking awwww, imagining it now turns me on so much, Yuna grabbed jihyo’s hands and placed it on her ass.

makes her lick all over her body and makes Yuna clean the floor with her tongue, Jihyo orders Yuna and lia to strip down naked and bend over and place their upper body on the rack near the mirror. Yuna being the experienced bitch does it straight away but lia doesn’t jihyo walks up to her and rips apart her dress and bra and starts pinching her nipples and grabs her pussy and says, do what I say okay? Lia starts to like all this and says ok. Lia and Yuna bend over near the mirror and ask jihyo are this, okay, to which jihyo says is it right, it's fucking horrible and walks to them and starts to spank them in the ass until its pink like a rose, jihyo wipes her hand dry and shoves her two fingers in yuna’s asshole, yuna starts to scream jihyo,says shut up you bitch, pulls her finger out and puts three fingers in her asshole, yuna screams even more and lia is terrified, jihyo says to lia aww don’t worry darling, she is getting punished for being as asshole and touching what belongs to me. Jihyo says to yuna, didn’t I say you to shut the fuck up. Yuna closes her mouth with her both hands, jihyo fingers yuna’s asshole aggressively and fast and yuna starts shouting ahhhhh ahahhha ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, jihyo stops and puts the fingers in yuna’s mouth and says lick them clean you bitch and yuna says yes ma’am, jihyo says “ma’am”, yuna apologises and says yes boss,

jihyo says thats better. And slaps on yuna’s boobs and with just one slap it turned so red, jihyo undresses and says lets begin, jihyo puts yuna on the floor and sits on her face and says yuna you better make me cum okay? And moves lia in front of her face and spreads her ass and sees the asshole closing and opening, jihyo spanks lia’s ass red and starts to lick her asshole and ass, With yuna licking jihyos pussy jihyo starts to moan and puts almost all her bodyweight in yuna face and says lick it just like that, yuna being a slut who know what she is is doing makes jihyo cum and squirt. Jihyo starts to squirt inside yuna’s mouth and yuna drinks all that fast, and starts to cough,jihyo while licking lia’s ass she also fingered her pussy and made lia cum and squirt on the floor and lia losses all her strength in the legs. Jihyo makes both of them stand and kisses both one after another and makes lia say, say you love this? Say “You love being a slave of jihyo” Lia says “I Love this, I love being a dirty little dump truck of you boss” Jihyo kisses them both again passionately. Jihyo makes them to kneel down and she starts to walk away from them to grab a chair to sit, As she walks away she turned around for a sec and notices lia starring at her juicy ass jiggling while she is walking, jihyo grabs the chair and walks towards them and notices Lia staring at her voluptuous boobs as well she puts the chair down and ask Lia why you looking at boobs and my ass like that, Jihyo realizes that “yeah, i made her bend over and she never really got to see my boobs and ass”, So jihyo asks lia do you wanna taste them lia? Lia grins and says so I wanna lick them so bad boss, Aww ok lia let me let you have a taste of them, jihyo sits in the chair slightly leaning back and just letting her ass out of the chair and spread them wide apart, and orders yuna to suck on her foot. Yuna sucks jihyos feet and lia enjoys licking jihyos ass and lia say does ass this good? Of course, says jihyo, and asks lia you love it, lia stops licking and responds I love it, Jihyo grabs lia by her hair and buries her head in her ass and says to lick them clean, Lia keeps licking her asshole as yuna licks jihyos feet. Jihyo says lia to put her tongue in the asshole, lia starts to spread her big ass cheeks and lets her tongue deep in her asshole. Jihyo starts to reach orgasm and says I am cumming lia dont stop, lia starts to lick them fast and jihyo grabs lia head and shoves her face further deep in her ass as she reaches climax. Lia gets the hang of it and starts to rub jihyos clit, jihyo bites her lips and says ahhhh it feels so good, is it really your first time? Ask's lia aroused. Lia grins, lia licks her all the juice from the pussy in her fingers and shoves it in jihyos pussy and starts to finger them nice and slow, jihyo grabs yuna's arm and bites it as she feels great, jihyo make then wakes up from the chair and goes on all fours and says both yuna and lia to finger both her holes with three fingers. Jihyo starts to moan as both her holes get fingered by them, jihyos eyes starts to role back as she orgasms and says ah I fucking love this and moans loudly, then she cums. They all makeout with each other. Jihyo feels great and happy, so does lia’s and yuna’s face all smithered with jihyos juices happily smiling and laughing saying we had a great time as well. 

Credits to my friend SandhipKumar67

[streetlight11]

Till I Met You Again

Summary: Everyone is born with a life already planned out for them. Including their soulmates. Except, every person walking this earth has been given a specific soulmate marking that was similar to a tattoo to match their soulmate’s. The ink is invisible when one is born. To activate the soulmate marking, one has to be at least in a 20 feet radius to their designated soulmate. But of course, they wouldn’t know it until they start to notice the ink slowly appearing on their skin.

Theme: soulmate au, university au, enemies to lovers

Genre: angst, fluff

Warning: mild cursing

WC: 10k

Pairing: Soulmate!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello! I kinda got too carried away in writing this one the other day, hence the word count for this is... woah. Hehe. But anyways, here's a soulmate au for you Min Yoongi lovers <3

Every person who was born into this earth has their life journey already written out for them in which it unfortunately remains a secret from them. And these living souls have been entitled to a soulmate that would potentially cross their path in the near future. Everyone is made for someone and the tattoo on their skin otherwise known as a ‘soulmate marking’ determines it for them.

The soulmate marking is nothing far from a tattoo as it imprints on your skin for eternity.

However, these markings will already be on you the minute you were born. Except, the ink will be invisible to the human eye.

But it’s definitely there. The only way to activate the marking is when one happens to be of 20 foot radius with their designated soulmate. This will cause the ink to start slowly appearing on one’s skin. Even so, these markings will start only when one has reached the age of 14. Only then will the ink start to be visible to one’s eye.

Unfortunately, until now when you’re already past 20 years of age, not a single tinge of ink was displayed on your skin. You’ve checked everywhere on your body. From your fingertips to your toes.

Nothing.

You weren’t really one who purely believed in this whole soulmate thing simply because you felt that there’s no such thing as a fixed soulmate. You should be free to choose who you want as your partner purely through interactions and chemistry you shared with the other, not by some marking on your skin. Your parents had a matching mark on their right wrists which was a simple rose in a glass jar.

No doubt you admired their love story and how they met, but you couldn’t see it for yourself. You really don’t want to fully depend on this supposed marking. Even when you went off to college, you’ve made it a point to try and go on dates no matter what their soulmate markings would be.

But it all turned out with the same ending. Either the guy dumps you for not having the same mark or they ghost you after the first date, saying you’re too good for them. All these never led to a heartbreak on your end because you were never in love to begin with.

You were simply trying your luck, trying to see if you’d find a single soul who was just as sceptical as you on this whole soulmate thing.

And so far, you’ve met none.

It was the start of university life for you as you’ve managed to enrol yourself for a Computer Science major in Hangang University. You took the same course during college, having interest in web design and computer technologies. You could only hope that the study load this time would give you a mental break every once in a while despite knowing the content is definitely heavier than college content.

But you still told yourself to persevere and never leave your knowledge hanging while you’re still young. With this mentality, you brought yourself to campus today for day one of university classes.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door to the specific lecture room for the first lesson.

Immediately, you were greeted by a room that had the majority of the students’ gender being males. But it wasn’t a surprise to you because CS majors tend to lean more towards males instead of females. This doesn’t bother you since you were here solely to study and perhaps make friends along the way.

You found an empty seat in the top last few rows. With careful steps, you climbed the stairs to make your way to the spot you had your eyes locked on. After you’ve settled down, you noted how the room was fairly quiet.

Probably because it was the first day of classes and nobody really knows each other yet. That was all pushed to the back of your mind when you heard chatting coming from the front door and you saw 2 friends walk in. It was pretty obvious they knew each other considering how they were laughing and talking freely to one another.

As you kept your curious gaze on them discreetly, you could only realise how good looking they were.

The taller one sported beautiful dark brown locks that were long enough to cover his eyes, his smile so charming you were sure anyone who crossed his path would fall for his smile in less than a second. And then there was the other one who sported a more edgy look with his shorter dark purple, undercut hair that was parted near the centre to show his forehead, a right eyebrow piercing to compliment his face.

You quickly diverted your gaze to your laptop screen, not wanting them to think you’re a creep. You were busy searching for the e-books for this lesson in your online school portal when you heard a gentle voice calling to you from your right.

“Hey, are these seats taken?”

You looked up to see the one with the eyebrow piercing staring at you with the softest smile on his face.

In response to his question, you simply mimicked his facial expression and shook your head at him. He thanked you quietly before the 2 of them settled down beside you down the row. They resumed their conversation for the next 3 minutes before the lecturer walked in to start the class.

Two hours later, you don’t even know how you managed to absorb the things your lecturer said but you did. You were typing out the notes he shared on the projector screen when you heard his voice through the speakers.

“I will let you go for your lunch break. Be back by 1pm, here. You can leave your bags behind since I will be locking the room once everyone leaves.”

With that, your classmates replied with a series of yes before they got up one by one ready to head for lunch. You were just typing out the last of your notes when the boy beside you spoke up. At first you thought he was talking to his friend. You completely missed the way he was turned to you.

Until he gently taps onto your forearm to tell you that his question was directed to you. With a turn of your head, you locked eyes with him for the second time that day. “H-Huh?” You stuttered, earning a stifled chuckle from him.

“I was saying, do you wanna join me and my friends for lunch? We’re already sharing classes, might as well get to know each other to prepare for future projects or assignments.” He kindly repeated himself for you, making you whisper a soft ‘oh’ under your breath.

It wasn’t like you to approach someone first when it comes to striking a conversation with a complete stranger. So when he did it for you, it surprised you that he even thought of letting you tag along with them to lunch. For this alone, you decided to accept his offer knowing he does have a point for that last statement.

With that being said, the three of you left the lecture room after bringing your wallets with you. You quietly followed beside the brown haired one as they immediately opened a topic for their conversation.

You were just checking your phone for the texts sent from your mom in your family group chat when a voice spoke up, addressing you directly.

“What’s your name?” You glance up to catch the one who asked the question was the brown haired one, as the purple haired one was already looking at you but it wasn’t intimidating in any way. So you found it easy to reply to them.

“Y/N.” You said as they all nodded only for the boy beside you to speak up. “Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Taehyung. This is Jungkook.”

And so you know.

After almost 10 minutes of walking, you finally arrived at the cafeteria located on the other side of campus from where you originally were. The cafeteria was filled with hungry students and occupied tables. This wasn’t something new but at times like these, you’d rather bring your own food and sit somewhere that’s less crowded and bustling.

Just when you were about to excuse yourself and get a take out instead, Taehyung’s voice sounded from beside you, “Hyung said he found a table for us. They’re at the side near the drink stall.” He addressed it to the Jungkook in particular.

Hyung? Found a table? Did their other friends go to this same campus too?

You thought to yourself as Taehyung soon led the three of you around the cafeteria with you following behind them like a lost puppy.

You were busy looking at the available food stalls around when you were stopped by the voices that called out to the 2 boys’ names. Curious eyes wandered over their figures to see just who their other friends were and you were met with a table filled with relatively handsome guys.

There were 3 guys seated at that table, happily welcoming Taehyung and Jungkook. Just when you thought they had forgotten you, Jungkook turns around to show you to his friends.

“If you guys don’t mind, we made a new friend this morning and we invited her to join us for lunch. Her name is Y/N.” Jungkook announced as the three boys smiled at you warmly.

“Hey Y/N. I’m Namjoon, this is Seokjin and Hoseok. It’s nice to meet you.” Namjoon said as he stretched his hand out for you to shake in which you obliged. You definitely didn’t miss the intricate design of a floral arrow lining his inner forearm. That must’ve been his soulmate marking. You soon found yourself seated next to Hoseok and Jungkook after buying your meal.

You were chewing your noodles when Taehyung spoke up to catch everyone at that table’s attention, “Where are they? Shouldn’t their class be over already?”

“Apparently they just ended 5 minutes ago. Minie told me they’re on their way now.” Seokjin replied.

Who were the ‘they’ Taehyung was referring to?

Were there more of their friends?

Oh great.

You refocused on your food, taking a bite out of the chicken meat as you listened to their ‘first day of university’ story. You found out that Namjoon was a Psychology major, Hoseok was a Dance major and Seokjin was a Culinary major.

You were currently staring at the pile of vegetables that Taehyung so kindly transfers into your bowl, after he asked around on who wants the boiled carrots and broccoli to which you said yes.

Taehyung was passing you every last bit of vegetable to your bowl when a sweet voice spoke up from the end of the table nearest to Namjoon and Seokjin.

“Finally! I thought you’d never make it for lunch.” Namjoon laughed as you heard a much raspier voice speak up from the same spot.

“I wouldn’t miss lunch for the world.” You heard the others laugh when Taehyung finally finished clearing his plate off the vegetables before turning to the newcomers to say his hellos.

“Oh, by the way, we have a new addition to our circle. She’s in Taehyung and Jungkook’s class so they tagged her along for lunch.” Seokjin announced as he reached his arm behind Taehyung to place a soft hand on the top of your right shoulder. You finally looked up from your bowl to see who the newcomers were.

The first guy you locked eyes with had cute puffy cheeks, sporting a pretty dark blue hair colour as his bangs framed his face nicely.

“Oh hello. I’m Jimin.”

You smiled shyly at him before your eyes naturally travelled to the other individual standing right beside Jimin and that’s when you frowned.

Unsurprisingly, the male did too.

His hair was an ash grey colour that parted at the side to show his forehead instead of letting it cover his eyebrows like Hoseok’s did. He had a few piercings on each ear. If his physique was unrecognizable to you, at least his face was. You knew exactly who he was without having to ask him for confirmation.

“Yoongi?” His name rolled off your tongue effortlessly in a whisper, stirring reactions from the rest of them.

“Wait, you know each other?” Jimin asked in confusion as his eyes travelled back and forth between you and Yoongi. That’s when you heard the other scoff before locking his eyes with you.

“Never thought I’d see you again after all these years.” His expression was dry and almost unwelcoming unlike the smiles his other friends gave you upon your first meeting. “Never wished for this day to come either but here we are…” You said sarcastically.

The tension was so thick, you were sure you would have to cut it with a knife instead of a scissors.

You broke the gaze by standing up, claiming you’ve lost your appetite.

“I’ll see you guys in class.” You said, directing your words to your classmates before you snatched your phone and wallet off the table top along with your tray of food to return. With a quick glance to Yoongi, you ignored his burning glare as you shoved past him by the shoulders causing him to stumble back a little.

The table fell quiet as Seokjin was the first to break the awkward silence, “Well, that was unexpected.” Yoongi scoffed as he left the table to go buy his food, not bothering to wait for Jimin as his mind was clouded with the thought of you being in his circle of friends.

The history of you two goes way back when you were in both pre and high school. Your first ever dispute with him was in preschool, all because you were both fighting over the crayon box. And then gradually, more fights would happen over silly little things. It came to a point where your teacher would have to separate you from each other.

Your disputes continued after you found out that he just so happened to join the same high school as you, let alone the same class. It only made things worse. You two would bicker and fight almost everyday like a married couple.

Your friends teased you often with him for the amount of fights you got into with him. They’ve even grown accustomed to the harsh comments you had thrown to each other on a daily basis.

Not a day goes by without either him stepping on your tail or you having a payback for all the pranks he did on you to get you worked up. And yet, just when you thought you were free from seeing the devil himself again, life has its way with you and it bothers you to the core at this very instant.

Your lecturer arrived back at the lecture room 15 minutes before 1pm and it seemed like everyone else was still having lunch. All except you. “You’re here early? Have you had your lunch?” He asked as he proceeded to unlock the room while you lingered behind him, standing up after you saw him approaching from afar.

“Yeah, I did.” You smiled, stepping back into the room after he pushed the door open. You climbed the stairs again to where your belongings were, taking out your air pods to bury yourself in music.

Shutting out the world around as you rested your head in your arms on the table. You didn’t notice the people strolling into the lecture room, too busy drowning yourself in your own little bubble. All of it soon came crumbling when you felt a soft tap on your shoulder.

That’s when you look up to see the 2 of them back in their seats.

You glanced ahead to see that the lecturer had already flashed the new slides onto the projector screen which indicates the start of class again. So you took out your air pods and kept them in its case before tossing it into your bag.

Class resumed and your messy thoughts were shoved to the back of your mind, far away from your main focus right now which was your class.

After a dreadful 4 hours of lessons, your lecturer finally calls it a day. He reminded all of you to be punctual for class tomorrow, saying that he has some group discussions for the topic he would be teaching. Once everyone was dismissed, you kept your stuff back into your bag quietly.

You could tell the two boys were waiting for you since they hadn't moved a muscle from beside you despite already standing up and were just leaning against the table while they chatted. The minute you stood up, they pushed themselves off the table and only then did they start walking down the steps.

The three of you made it to ground level thanks to the operating lift, making your way to the parking lot that was right beside the campus entrance.

You were just talking to Jungkook about your hobbies when you noticed a group of 5 guys gathered at the steps of the campus grounds through your peripheral vision. You could only guess it was their friends due to the voice that calls out to those walking with you. They led you towards the bunch as you glanced over to everyone but him.

“Hey Y/N, how did you come here this morning?” Namjoon asked, his voice nothing but sincere.

“Public transport.” You said simply with a smile directed towards him, only for Seokjin to speak up, “Do you need a ride home? I can drive you?”

With that being said, you kindly shook your head with a smile, not wanting to offend him in any way for turning his offer down. “It’s fine, I can manage on my own. Thanks for the offer though. Maybe next time.” You said as you bid the rest of them goodbye, not bothering to look at the very person you’ve held your grudge on for years.

They watched as you turned in your heels and left, deadpanning your way to the front gates. Jimin sighed lightly before turning to Yoongi and asked for answers on why you and him weren’t on good terms.

But the latter only brushed Jimin off, saying he would explain some other time.

The rest of them soon dispersed to their own vehicles to head home after a long and tiring first day of university.

As more days began to pass, you were sometimes dragged by either one of your 2 classmates to hang out with their friends and girlfriends. If you weren’t mistaken, half of them already found their soulmates and were currently in a relationship with them. While the remaining half were still finding for theirs because it was either their soulmate markings had appeared on their skin but very faintly, or there was none at all.

But the amount of times you’ve recalled hanging out with them during the past three months were countable with your fingers. You avoided having lunch with them often ever since you found out Yoongi was in their circle. You didn’t want to seem petty but it seems like he too hated having you around.

Which means that the feelings were mutual on both ends.

It was a pretty warm day so right after you arrived back at your apartment, you headed straight for the showers. Slipping into the shower stream the minute your clothes were discarded.

The cold stream coating your shoulder down with it’s nice, cooling temperature to ease out the warmth in your body.

After you finished your shower, you took your towel from the rack and proceeded to wipe yourself dry. Stepping out of the cubicle, you walked over to the sink counter where your large mirror was glued onto the wall. As you were ruffling your hair with the towel to rid the excess water, you noticed something on your left rib through the reflection.

Is that…?

You glanced down at your skin to see a very faint outline of something on your skin. You blinked twice, not believing this.

When did it start showing?

Your mind was going feral at the thought of seeing your soulmate marking finally make its appearance onto your skin. Who was the cause of this? Why did it only appear now after all these years? If that’s the case then it means that your soulmate is someone from school.

“What am I thinking? This is all a load of crap. I can date whoever I want no matter what marking they have.” You said to no one in particular as you changed into your home attire.

A few days later, you were just in class alone in the morning. Taehyung and Jungkook had yet to arrive when a sudden voice from beside you made you jump. A soft curse emitted from your throat as you clutched to your chest from the minor heart attack. You turned to find one of your classmates whom you recalled his name to be Hanbin, towering over you to your left.

“Hey, I’m Hanbin.” He smiled at you, feeling your stomach get warm upon seeing him up close for the first time.

“Hey… I’m Y/N.”

“I don’t mean to be creepy or weird, but I’ve kind of noticed you going for lunch alone these days instead of with your friends?” He asked as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. You somehow knew where this was going.

“Right… Well, that is true I suppose.” You chuckled awkwardly, looking away from him briefly before turning your attention back to him.

“I see. Well, if you’re looking for company, you can go for lunch with me?” He said it more like a statement instead of a question and that in itself made you smile. You had just accepted his kind offer when you heard familiar voices approaching to where you were seated.

Hanbin’s eyes glanced past your shoulder only to flicker back to you, setting a reminder before he left.

“Lunch with me later, yeah?”

You gave him a soft nod as a smile crept onto your lips. At the same time, you felt the soft nudge to your right elbow. You already knew who’s the culprit. “Wasn’t that Hanbin? What did he say to you?” Taehyung asked as he took a seat beside you.

“He asked me to go for lunch with him.”

“So you agreed?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna go for lunch with him but not us?” Taehyung asked with a pout, only for Jungkook to lean over and ask what was going on. You could only roll your eyes at them, not actually annoyed or anything. Just a reflex whenever someone tried to get your sympathy over something stupid.

“Give me a break. I’m not sharing a table with ‘you know who’. Wouldn’t wanna accidentally break the table with our arguments.” You flashed him a sarcastic smile that made him click his tongue at you in disbelief.

It has been two months since you first went to lunch with Hanbin and you have been doing that ever since. You noticed that his demeanour was starting to change too around you, maybe there was a mutual feeling settling in between the two of you after all.

It was a Saturday afternoon and you already made plans with Hanbin a week prior. He wanted to bring you out on a date to the amusement park and then maybe grab some supper before heading home. He picked you up at your apartment that evening in his jeep, looking quite handsome if you say so yourself.

The two of you spent the evening together, adrenaline rushing through you thanks to the rides you took. After enjoying yourselves at the amusement park, you were both tired from having fun so he offered to stop by and grab supper with you before sending you home.

You ended up getting fast food at the diner downtown. You were happy. You were grateful that he was nothing but sweet to you. But for some reason, deep down there was that voice in you that was screaming, “He’s not the one” and you hated it. You didn’t want to rely on the marking to determine your happiness.

What if you belonged to someone who has a different marking than you?

That’s possible right?

So when he finally parked right outside your apartment complex, he turned off the engine leaving his key in the ignition. The car fell silent for a moment before you decided to be brave and spoke up.

“Do you… wanna come up for a bit? We can talk for a while longer?”

With that, Hanbin frowned as he wondered if he should. He didn’t want to ruin a first date and he most definitely did not want you to have a bad impression on him.

“Are… Are you sure?” He asked quietly, to which you nodded.

When you didn’t get a proper response, you simply let out a soft giggle followed by, “come on” before you opened his jeep door to board off the vehicle. You left him no choice but to follow after you. Once you’ve made it to your apartment, you unlocked your front door and stepped inside allowing him to enter.

It took him a while as his eyes travelled all over your cosy apartment, admiring the minimalist interior. You told him to take a seat while you went to get him a drink.

A few minutes passed and you were both just talking freely on your couch when you noticed how his eyes always flickered down to your lips constantly as you spoke. This made you stifle a giggle and he caught on. He apologized for it but you brushed it off.

Just then, the room felt quiet all of a sudden as it was your turn to glance down to his lips.

Hanbin softly smiled as he began to lean closer.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you could feel his warmth radiating off his body from how close he was to you.

Right when you felt your head get dizzy from the close proximity, you unconsciously whispered against his lips something that you would never normally do.

“Kiss me.”

With that being said, he pressed his plump lips on yours.

Immediately intoxicating you with how sweet he tasted. The kiss slowly got heated as he carefully guided your body back to lay on the couch while he hovered over you. His hands slid past the hem of your shirt, resting on your waist as he caressed your skin.

You slide your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. He slowly pushed your shirt up using his wrists. Right when he’d just pulled away for a breather, his eyes travelled down to your bare torso beneath him.

His gaze seemed stuck on whatever he was looking at. When you realized he stopped and was staring at something on your body, you knew exactly what he saw.

“Is that…?” His voice was soft, almost sounding as though he was upset.

“Yeap…”

With this confession, he slowly pulled away from you, tugging your shirt back down and bringing you to a sitting position.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” He began but you were quick to hush him.

“It’s okay… Besides, I should be the one saying sorry. I already saw your marking the other day when you wore a tank top to class. I just thought you’d be okay with dating someone who doesn’t share the same mark as you. I guess I was being selfish…” You said.

Hanbin remained quiet as he listened to your reasoning. Suddenly feeling bad for stopping whatever you two were sharing, so abruptly like that. With that, he reached out to hold your hand, telling him that he was still sorry for reacting that way and for hurting your feelings by doing so.

But he told you he didn’t regret taking you out on a date today, that he genuinely had a good time with you and that he would love to still be friends with you if you allowed him.

You smiled at him before turning your attention to the flower pot sitting on your coffee table only for him to continue, “I just hope that you’ll find someone who will love you for who you are, doesn’t matter the mark.” For that, you smiled again. Thanking him for being sweet and thoughtful.

After he left, you couldn’t help but sigh. This was already the umpteenth time this happened to you.

But you couldn’t stay mad at Hanbin for turning you down simply because he didn’t reject you the way your other ex dates did. That was the reason why you let him go without holding a grudge.

The next few weeks, you’ve gone to lunch on an alternate basis between Hanbin and the guys. And every time you went with the guys, you could only prepare yourself for the constant bickering with the one and only, Min Yoongi and today was no different.

You were sitting next to Namjoon at the end of the table with the only space left empty being beside you. And it was as though luck wasn’t on your side, the only human left to arrive for lunch was none other than Yoongi himself.

You were just sipping your green tea when you heard his voice approaching towards your side of the table.

“Sorry hyung, that’s the only seat left.” Jungkook smiled sympathetically to the elder as you made it a point to not spare a glance over to him. You could hear his grunt of disapproval but nonetheless plopped his bag down on the chair before disappearing to buy his food.

When he did come back, you had just gotten a whole chunk of chocolate fudge cake shoved into your mouth by Taehyung who was seated opposite you.

You were unable to pull the dangling piece of cake into your mouth so you tilted your head back. But instead of the cake entering your mouth, it ended up falling into your hands when you felt your head crash into something behind you.

And the hiss just told you who it was.

“Watch it before I spill hot soup on you.” Yoongi said as he placed the bowl of steaming noodle soup on the table top beside your tray.

“Don’t worry because I’ll make sure it spills on you too.” You challenged him back, earning a glare from him.

You heard a few sighs coming from some of the guys but you couldn’t care less. You busied yourself by scrolling through your social media in hopes that the time would just pass by quicker so that you can be away from him after lunch ends.

A few days later, you had just finished your shower when you noticed your mark slowly growing more and more opaque. To which you could finally see the design of it.

It was a dream catcher.

A pretty one at that. You softly traced your finger over the outline of the detail, keeping your eye on the reflection. Just then, a soft sigh left your lips.

This means that your designated soulmate has supposedly crossed your path more than once. But seeing how the ink is getting darker with each passing day, could only mean that if not often, this person is near you at least more than 3 times a week.

A week went by and Jungkook had invited you to his birthday slash pool party that weekend. He invited only the guys and some of their girlfriends. You’ve met the girlfriends a few times and they’ve all been pretty sweet to you so far. All of them are so down to earth. You told Jungkook you’ll be there, earning a happy soft clap from him when you said so.

On the day of the party, you had just finished your shower when you noticed the water droplets underneath you weren’t clear. You looked harder only to realize those weren’t water.

It was blood.

“Great… Thanks mother nature…” You huffed as you went to get your feminine item from your cupboard. After successfully changing into the attire you chose for the day, you tied your hair into a messy ponytail before leaving your bathroom.

You wore simple denim shorts and a loose shirt tucked into your jeans.

When you actually made it to Jungkook’s house, you were surprised to know that he was living in a one story house with a built-in pool ready when he moved in.

Apparently his parents were pretty wealthy people so they bought this house for him, saying it would give him the opportunity to take responsibility in keeping the house clean and tidy rather than his mother having to do it for him all the time.

You called Jungkook’s phone only for him to pick up on the second ring. You told him you were at his front gate so he hung up the call and rushed over to you.

Once you were inside his beautiful compound, he brought you towards the back through his side garden. Distinct voices gradually get louder the nearer you get to them. The minute you turned round the corner, you instantly saw more than half of them in the pool including the ladies.

Seokjin and Taehyung were over at the barbeque grill, cooking the meat for everyone. There was a table filled with all kinds of snacks and sweet drinks. It was a full on pool party.

Just then, a familiar voice rings in your ear already knowing it belonged to Hoseok.

“Y/N! You made it! Come join us!”

You stopped at one of the chairs only to put your sling bag down and apologized to him, “Sorry to burn the mood, but I can’t. Monthly calls.” You could hear some whines and sad pouts forming on some of their faces right after.

“Aww man, that’s a total bummer.” Jimin said, making you shrug.

However, you noticed a figure leaning against the wall on the other side of the pool just blankly staring at you. That’s when you glanced over to see Yoongi. You held your stare for a moment before you turned away. Missing the way he was still staring at you even when you were making your way to Seokjin and Taehyung.

A few minutes later, you were just talking to Jiyeon who was taking a break from being in the pool. You sat facing each other but from where you were seated, your back was facing the grilling pit.

Jiyeon was just talking to you about baking when you noticed someone swimming to the side that was aligned with where you were sitting.

Only to realize it was Yoongi.

He placed his hands on the edge of the pool and soon pushed himself upwards. You watched as water flowed down his body effortlessly. Cursing yourself for even staring at his shirtless form. He pushed his wet hair out of his face, resulting in him having sort of a slick back hairstyle.

He was too busy talking to Hoseok and Jungkook who were still in the pool, his head completely turned away from you.

Right when you were about to look away, your eyes caught sight of the imprinted ink on his left rib. You didn’t think much of it as you turned away from him. But then something in your brain ticked you off like a time bomb. So you carefully turned back to him just a few feet away from you.

That’s when you saw it.

The dream catcher on his left rib is so prominent and bold against his milky skin. Not to mention his toned abs. A soft gasp left your lips as he walked past you without sparing a single glance at you.

But you didn’t mind it. You were glad he didn’t see how shocked you were because if it did, he would have said something about it.

So instead, you just got up and left, entering Jungkook’s home through the glass doors frantically. You rushed in and went straight to the said destination. Once inside, you took a moment to steady your breathing as you brought your gaze up to the long mirror that laid upon you on the wall landscape.

You carefully pulled your shirt up to expose the ink on your own skin. You could only stare at it through the reflection before looking down at your own torso and gently tracing your finger over the outer rim of the dream catcher’s hoop.

You didn’t know how long you were gone for. It wasn’t until a voice broke your train of thoughts.

“Was it really necessary to rush into someone’s house like-”

However, his speech got stuck in his throat when his eyes flickered over to the reflection in the mirror. No it wasn’t your face he was staring at. It wasn’t the soap bottles lining Jungkook’s sink.

It was your mark on your left rib.

You swiftly pulled your shirt down to hide it from him from seeing any more details of it. With quick hasty steps, you turned to leave the bathroom and had barely taken a step out into the hallway when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to face him.

“Show me.” He said firmly.

“Show you what?”

“Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I- I don’t know what you mean-”

Without warning, Yoongi used his free hand to lift your shirt up to stop right below your bra line as his hands naturally cupped your sides to keep your shirt there. He finally caught a clear look of the inked design on you, seeing how familiar it looked to him.

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes flicked wider for just a millisecond before it went back to its original state.

For some reason, your lung felt restricted and your heart dropped upon seeing the same mark on his skin at the same exact spot as yourself. You wanted to run away. All you wanted to do now was to be as far away from him as you can.

So you slapped his hands away, making him lose his grip on you before you turned around to leave.

He grabbed your wrist again but this time, you mustered whatever strength you had left to yank your arm from him. Tears stinging your eyes as it threatens to fall, yet you don’t fully understand why.

“Don’t! J-Just… leave me alone… please.” Your voice falls into a whisper as you rush to the backyard, ignoring their worried calls as you simply told them you weren’t feeling well because of your monthly calls. When Yoongi did come back to the backyard, he was questioned as to what happened back in the house and why you looked like you were about to cry.

Yoongi couldn’t help but stare at your descending back just in time before you turned the corner and disappeared fully from sight. Only for him to lie to them despite knowing exactly why you left.

“She wasn’t feeling well.”

The week went by and you have been avoiding coming relatively close to the rest other than the 2 who were obviously unavoidable. But it’s not like you had anything against them. You just wanted to avoid Yoongi at all costs for now. It was a Friday and you had just finished your classes for the day when the two boys exchanged glances to each another before Jungkook spoke up.

“Hey, do you wanna grab something to eat with us after this?” You knew he was being nice. You knew he wasn’t to blame for Yoongi having the same exact soulmate mark as you. So for that, you chose not to lash out at him.

“It’s fine. I’ll pass.” You smiled half heartedly and they could tell. But thankfully, they chose not to question further.

The three of you were walking towards the main entrance as usual when you saw the rest of the group seeming to wait for you three. You glanced up to Jungkook beside you who gestured a small wave to the others, only for you to accidentally look over.

And the first thing you saw was Yoongi already looking at you.

Great.

Before you could get to close, you bid your goodbyes to your friends as you separated from them to head towards the gates. Nobody has yet to know why you were acting this way other than Yoongi himself. You were just halfway through the parking lot when a firm grip on your wrist made you turn after being tugged back gently.

You nearly crashed into the figure whom you weren’t surprised when you saw it was him.

“Stop acting like a child.” He said, his tone held something much more than just firmness. He sounded like he’s… hurt almost.

“So what? This marking thing is a load of bullshit. Why does it determine who we should be with? That’s unfair! I’ve seen couples who have different marks and yet they’re still happy together?!” You said, clearly letting your emotions take over your mind.

“If you think it’s bullshit then why are you ignoring me like I’ve just killed your pet?!” He asked, his voice now a tad louder than it was before.

“Because all the guys I’ve tried dating care too much about these marks! Every single one of them ditched me when they found out I didn’t have the same mark! And what are the odds that the one person who has the same exact mark as me, happens to be the one person that has been nothing but a daily source of fight with me?” You paused as his grip on you loosened, his glare suddenly softened.

“Of course I couldn’t believe it… I didn’t want to believe that of all people, it’s you… That’s why I ignore you.” Your voice grew soft as you saw the way his eyes flickered back and forth on your own brown pupils.

“So you’re saying you hate me? Is that it?” His question was simple but it held a thousand meanings and you knew it.

“I don’t even know anymore, Yoongi…” You whispered as you slowly pulled your hand out of his grip and quickly left before he could say anything else. Yoongi stood there trying to process everything. Still not entirely sure of what just happened. Just then, a gentle hand on his shoulder made him return back to reality.

“Hey man, you okay?” Namjoon’s calm voice spoke from beside Yoongi as the latter could only nod.

“We heard your conversation… Well, we didn’t intend to anyways… But, is it true? That you both have the same mark?” Namjoon continued.

He could hear the soft, quiet curse leaving Yoongi’s lips during his exhale before he spoke up, “Yeah… That was actually the reason why she abruptly left during Jungkook’s pool party.” Yoongi explained and it all began to fall into place for Namjoon. The younger could only nod as he finally put the pieces together.

“Mmm, and so I’m guessing she’s too overwhelmed with the fact that you have the mark out of a billion people to walk this planet?” Namjoon said.

“Bingo.” Yoongi sighed as the two began to walk back to their friends who were still gathered at the entrance despite hearing the commotion earlier. If space is what you need, then space is what he shall give. But of course, you can’t run from him forever.

It has been two weeks since your outburst with Yoongi and you have been keeping your distance from him again. The guys also didn’t try to tag you along knowing fully well that you needed space from Yoongi. For that, you silently thanked them. It was a Saturday night and you had made it a point to go for a quick grocery run to stock up your refrigerator with edible food.

After getting all the items you needed, you went to the queue. The lady at the counter scanned every item on the conveyor belt and went ahead to put it in the plastic bag before telling you the total cost.

You were about to reach into your jeans pocket when you noticed them being flat.

You felt around the pockets of your jeans and it was in fact empty. With that being said, you mentally cursed yourself for not bringing your wallet with you. Not only that, this store was the only one nearest to your apartment and it was closing in 10 minutes.

You wouldn’t make it back in time if you went home now to retrieve your wallet.

So you apologized to the lady who looked equally done with her job as you left the store empty handed. You were just walking down the partially empty street when you felt something drop onto your cheek. You stopped walking to feel what it was. Before you could touch your cheek, another drop hits the top of your head. And then another. And another.

“Fuck my life…”

You whispered to yourself as the sky suddenly began to downpour on you. Watching as some people ran across the road for shelter, some whips out their umbrella to shield them from the rain, some simply stayed indoors to avoid being caught in the rain.

However, you were too tired to even care about seeking shelter. Feeling as if today was the worst day of your life.

You continued to stroll down the street completely soaked under the rain.

You wrapped your arms around yourself in attempts to keep yourself warm but it clearly did no shit for you. Absent minded to notice your surroundings, you didn’t hear the calls for your name until the vehicle came to a gradual slow speed beside you on the street.

“Y/N!”

It was Yoongi.

“Leave me alone…”

“Y/N, why in the world are you walking in the heavy rain? You might fall sick, you dummy.”

“Who c-cares?” Your lips were starting to quiver from the cold.

“I do.”

You could’ve sworn your heart just skipped a beat at that response.

“Look, let me take you to my place and get you dry clothes while waiting for the rain to stop. I’ll send you home after.” He said.

“I d-don’t need your… h-help, Yoongi.”

He let out a soft groan in annoyance with your stubbornness, only to drive a little further down before bringing the car to a complete stop. You were about to carry on walking but your feet just came to a halt when you saw him running out of his car and coming to you.

“Come on and stop whining like a little kid.” Yoongi said as he grabbed your wrist and began jogging back to his car, pulling you into the passenger side before going back to the driver seat.

Once safely inside, he drove off into the night and made a left turn at the junction while your apartment building was to the right and probably about a 20 minutes walk. The car ride was quiet as neither of you said anything. You simply let him do what he said he would. When he finally brought the car to a park, he turned off the engine and soon climbed out of the vehicle.

You followed suit as he had already come over to your side to hold the door for you. After he’d locked the car, he led you to his apartment complex as you followed behind him. You took in the interior of his apartment complex, it looked slightly older than yours but still well maintained.

Apparently, he lived on the 14th floor unlike you who lived on the 5th floor.

He soon pulls out his house key and proceeds to unlock his front door. He opens the door for you, letting you step inside first. Once he had closed the door behind him, he told you to wait there as he excused himself to go get you a clean towel and new dry clothes for you to change into.

You took in the minimalist setting of his apartment, quite similar to yours except your walls are white and his is grey.

Yoongi came back with a handful, telling you where the bathroom was.

You followed his directions and soon closed the bathroom door once you’ve stepped inside. In the meantime, Yoongi had gone to change out of his own wet clothes into a clean pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie. He was boiling hot water to make hot chocolate for the two of you when you cleared your throat behind him.

He turned around at the sound, only for him to scheme through your outfit in which he had so specifically chosen for you. He had lent you one of his sleeping shorts and an oversized black hoodie that looked a little too big on you.

But for some reason, you looked good in them.

He almost had to pinch himself for staring too long before he finally spoke up, “Uhh, my dryer’s in the laundry room. Second door to the left.”

You nodded as you disappeared back down the hall, only for him to mentally curse himself for losing his composure. After 2 minutes or so, you came back having managed to turn the dryer on.

He handed you the cup of hot chocolate, not forgetting to thank him for it.

There was a short moment of peaceful silence before he gestured over to his living room. The both of you went over to the couch as you sat on either ends of the furniture. He turned his tv on and was busying himself with searching through Netflix when you mustered up the courage to ask him what was on your mind for the past half an hour.

“Why did you help me?”

Yoongi turned to you briefly, unsure if he should answer the question truthfully.

“As much as we fight, I’m not entirely heartless.”

Your eyes bore into him as you soon found yourself looking down at your hands when he turned to look at you. If it wasn’t for the tv, you knew for a fact that he could’ve heard the thumping of your heart. Silence fell over you two again but he broke it as soon as it started.

“Why were you walking in the rain?”

“I was on a grocery run.”

“But I don’t recall seeing you carry any bags of groceries?”

“That’s because I couldn’t pay for it without my wallet…”

He raised his eyebrows at you in disbelief, finding it ridiculous that you only realized it when you were checking out of the store.

“Shut up. This kind of stuff happens okay…” You scoffed, earning a quiet chuckle coming from him followed by an, “Okay, okay.” The room fell silent again and you were just playing with the strings of your hoodie.

Silently wishing for time to pass quicker but it seems like the rain only got heavier.

“Look, I think we should just forget about the whole marking thing and just… start over?” He said, causing you to look at him but he seemed like he was diligently avoiding your gaze.

“Start… over?” You dragged your words to show that you wanted a slightly more detailed explanation.

“What I mean is… let’s stop ignoring each other and stop fighting over the smallest little issues like we did when we were young. Back then we were still young and immature. But we’re not anymore, are we?” He ended with a question, making you huff.

You know he has a point but your ego is still higher than ever.

“Are you only saying this because I’m your soulmate?”

“No. I really am tired of fighting with you.”

“Why now? Why only want to call truce after you’ve seen my mark? Doesn’t that say a lot?” You were stubborn and he knows it. And yet, he still answers you to clear all your doubts.

Surprisingly patient with you.

“I know it might look like what you think, but it’s really not. I don’t care about the marking much like you. But after thinking about it, I feel like it’s actually childish to hold a grudge on each other for the things we’ve done years ago, don’t you think?” He explained, hoping it’ll get past that rock solid head of yours.

Your heart knows he’s right but your mind forces you to say otherwise.

With that, you huffed as you got up and excused yourself to go check on your clothes. Before you could make it past the first door on the left, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you back.

He pressed you against the wall with his other hand beside your head to trap you.

Your free hand hovered in between both yours and his chest as he was less than 4 inches away. Your faces were so close you could feel his breath hitting your lips. You would’ve slapped him if he did this years ago.

But now?

“Why are you so stubborn?”

He asked, his voice low as you kept your heated gaze on his eyes even though you saw the way his eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and lips.

Rising heat from both anger and his body temperature radiated off him, engulfing you like a cocoon. You could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate a few times now that he was this close to you. It was quiet in the hallway as he frowned, still waiting for an answer from you. But instead, you gently pressed your hand on his warm chest that was in between your bodies.

This was enough to make him flinch slightly. His crammed face relaxed for a moment when he looked down at your hand on his chest before looking back at you.

Even more confusion struck him.

Your heart was racing rapidly in your chest, and you were so sure he could hear it. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer so you looked down at your hand as you slid it up towards the necklace he was wearing. Playing with the pendant in between your fingers.

You didn’t realise this but his grip on your wrist was long gone and was now slowly snaking that arm around your waist.

Yoongi leaned in very subtly to let his lips brush against yours just to see your reaction. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of having you this close for the first time. You did the same as your other hand rested on his left bicep. Before you knew it, he closed whatever remaining gaps in between only to kiss you.

Your heart exploded in your chest as he used the hand beside your head to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch while you reciprocated the kiss. Yoongi’s grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you against him.

He felt both your hands now just holding onto his biceps for support, his lips tugging upwards against your mouth.

You could feel his muscles flexing under your fingertips as he pulled away from your mouth and was now trailing soft kisses down your neck. A soft sigh left your lips, feeling him give some love to the part that joins your neck and shoulder blade together.

“Yoongi…” Your voice came out as a mere whisper.

Just when you wanted to say something, your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his hands slip past your shirt only to rest them on your sides when your mark was.

His touch was gentle but it definitely did something to your poor heart.

“Answer me truthfully… Are you okay with… this?” Yoongi asked, gesturing between you and him. “With us? Because you can say no if you’re really against this. I would never force you.”

You stared at him for a while, rethinking your answer. You’ve been so firm about not caring who has the same soulmate mark as you because you thought it was all bullshit. But now, standing in front of him and knowing that he has the mark, not only that but he seemed like he really genuinely likes you is making it twice harder for you to say no.

But your silence was too long for him as he counted to 3 in his mind. When you didn’t respond, he slowly nodded. Pulling himself away to leave a space between you.

“It’s okay, I understand… I think your clothes are dry. Go change, I’ll wait outside.” His voice was quiet as if he’s too upset, he can’t even look you in the eye. You felt bad. You never wanted him to feel this way. So when he turned in his heels to walk away, you yearned for him to come back.

Yoongi was halfway down his living room when he felt a smaller hand slide into his right one. His step came to a halt as he kept his back to you.

He was about to ask if there's something wrong but all he got was a soft apology.

“I’m sorry…”

You watched as he remained still, his back still facing you. Doing nothing to turn and look at you. Yoongi wasn’t sure what he wanted to do at the moment so he kept quiet.

Just then, you used your other hand to cup his that you were already holding. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like this. But he definitely wasn’t prepared for what you were about to do next. You weren’t sure if you trust your voice so instead, you took a few steps closer before wrapping your arms around his waist.

Pressing your cheek against his back. You stayed like that for a few seconds, basking in the sweet vanilla scent of his.

You could feel him tense up when you first hugged him but he soon relaxed in your arms.

You didn’t dare to do anything else, all until you felt him softly caress your arms only to lock his fingers with yours over top of your hands. You only nuzzled your face deeper into his back, afraid to look at him.

But when you feel him slowly move around in your arms, that’s when you let him face you.

The minute he sees your face, he immediately cups your cheeks and wasted no time in kissing you ever so sweetly. The butterflies in your stomach erupted as you snaked your arms around his shoulders, feeling him pull you closer to him by your waist.

He held you securely against him all the while never leaving your lips. You were the first to pull away, keeping the distance small between you and him.

Your eyes were still closed so you depended on your senses.

That wasn’t until you felt him cup your face again, caressing your cheek with his thumbs. The room fell silent as he brushed his soft lips against yours and whispered to you quietly, “Can we start over?”

You opted for just a nod, unsure if you could trust your voice. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you so softly with his doe round eyes.

Yoongi smiled, whispering an ‘okay’ before he kissed you again. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you melted against his lips. He took his time with you, making sure you were comfortable and that you really wanted this. He never wanted to hurt you in any way. He kept asking for your permission before he did anything and you appreciated it.

You woke up the next morning to a warm feeling engulfing you from behind. You stirred in your sleep, trying to see what it was. But the squeeze around your waist made you look down to see the familiar arm draped over your waist, tucking his hands underneath you. The silver bracelet around his right wrist could never be mistaken for someone else.

Just when you were about to snuggle deeper into the warmth of his body, you felt him kiss the back of your head. Your heart pounded in your chest, stomach flipped in your belly.

“Mmm, good morning.” He whispered, his morning voice low and raspy.

You sighed in content as you turned around to face him, only to find that he still had his eyes closed but there was a smile that crept on his lips.

With that, you smiled as you planted a soft kiss on his lips. You could feel him smirk against your lips, earning a soft giggle from you. His arm that was supporting your head, bent at the elbows as he began to play with your soft hair.

The next day, you came to school feeling a little down in the weather. Maybe it was a late reaction to when you got drenched in the rain. You were sniffling in your seat when Taehyung and Jungkook immediately caught the sight of your red nose.

“Hey, are you sick? Your nose is red.” Jungkook said, his voice laced with full concern. You simply shook him off saying it was just light flu.

The other two weren’t buying it, they said they would go get medicine for you after class and you all but rejected them. The last thing you’d wanna do was to burden them.

So after your morning class has ended and you have been dismissed for lunch, the three of you made it to the cafeteria only to find the rest of the guys already seated. But you and Yoongi still haven’t told them about your resolve yet. So they thought you two were still ignoring each other.

“Hey guys! Y/N? Are you okay? You look kind of pale…” Namjoon asked, making you smile.

“It’s just a little flu, that’s all.” You said, completely missing the way Yoongi was staring at you with pure concern.

“Do you wanna go home and rest?” Hoseok asked in which you shook your head, before a squeaky sneeze left your lips not forgetting to cover your mouth while you did. “Sorry…” You whispered an apology, earning a few laughs from them. Just then, Yoongi got up without a word, leaving the table.

You watched as he disappeared down the aisle towards the drink stall. You wondered what he was doing but nevertheless shrugged, going to the empty seats beside him and Jimin.

You took a seat beside Yoongi’s empty chair, not really having the appetite to eat.

You were just rejecting Jimin’s offer to feed you some of his food when Yoongi came back with a glass of hot tea, a bottle of water and a strip of two panadol flu tablets. The rest of them watched quietly as he sat down beside you and handed you the drinks.

“Here, take this.” He said softly, pulling your hand up to push the two tablets out of the strip onto your open palms.

“Oh? Since when are you guys on good terms?” Taehyung asked in utter confusion.

“We’re not. We’re just acting.” Yoongi replied sarcastically before twisting the bottle cap open for you. He waited for you to throw your head back and let the tablets fall into your mouth before gulping down the water.

After you were done, you thanked him quietly. You didn’t miss the little smirk on his face.

“Okay…” Seokjin said as he gently slammed his hands onto the table top, making some of you flinch.

“What’s going on? Last week you were both ignoring each other and now you’re taking care of her like she means the world to you?” He asked as you turned to Yoongi for help.

“Don’t you know the saying ‘People change’?” Yoongi said.

“Of course, but it’s almost too drastic. Just over the weekend too.” Seokjin said in disbelief.

“Well, I guess it happens.” Yoongi shrugged as Jungkook directed his question to you.

“So I’m guessing you too?”

“No. I still hate him.” You lied.

“Is that so? Then why are you holding his pinkie?” Hoseok smirked, pointing to your intertwined pinkie on the table. With that, you quickly removed your hands from Yoongi.

“Hey... Why did you let go? I was about to play with your fingers.”

Yoongi said with a small pout, making you blush. Just then, Yoongi reached back over to lace his fingers with yours, resting your hands on his lap only to steal a quick kiss to your cheek.

This stirred a few dramatic gasps from your other friends. “Did you guys see that?! That was- omg!” Seokjin’s voice was too loud, making Jimin cover his mouth with his hands.

“Oh hush your pie hole dust. Just let me be happy for once.” Yoongi smirked as you felt him caress the back of your hand. He’s definitely going to be a handful but you’re more than happy to entertain his crap.

~~~

[1kook]

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu​ 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates. 

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens. 

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class. 

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him. 

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all. 

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly. 

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months. 

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got. 

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career. 

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course. 

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.” 

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you. 

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen. 

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.) 

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side. 

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly. 

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester. 

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness. 

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you. 

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face. 

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!” 

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things. 

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone. 

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought. 

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you. 

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news. 

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward. 

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason. 

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away. 

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom. 

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same. 

Apparently not. 

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed. 

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile. 

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.” 

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck. 

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot. 

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi. 

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.” 

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.  

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face. 

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments. 

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.” 

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.” 

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character. 

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester. 

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right. 

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile.  He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.” 

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?” 

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh. 

This man was dangerous for your heart. 

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.” 

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you. 

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well. 

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook. 

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[taesspark]

A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k 

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc. 

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year. 

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day. 

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook. 

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did. 

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep. 

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard. 

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-” 

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.” 

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.” 

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it. 

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble. 

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude. 

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close. 

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them. 

“Oops.” 

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh. 

Fucking Jeon Jungkook. 

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.” 

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.” 

You’re seething. 

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all. 

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out. 

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies. 

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.” 

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek. 

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. 

“Do you have something to say?” You snap. 

He opens his mouth. Then closes it. 

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.” 

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing. 

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.  

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.” 

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.” 

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Hit a nerve?” 

“No.” 

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is. 

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up. 

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.” 

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting. 

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.” 

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?” 

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.” 

“Hit a nerve?” You mock. 

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow. 

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same. 

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says. 

Jungkook groans. 

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” 

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall. 

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.” 

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?” 

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself. 

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.” 

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror. 

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it. 

“But-”

“Professor!” 

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.” 

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder. 

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead. 

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake. 

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed. 

“Y/N?” 

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask. 

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face. 

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?” 

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate. 

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.” 

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away. 

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.” 

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance. 

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole." 

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake. 

[dancingazaleas]

jean kirstein | primrose

i love him so much

y’all can’t see it but i am crying

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL HIMBO

note: this is unedited

warnings/notes: artist!jean, college au!, gardener!reader, cursing, jean’s in love, nsfw, smut, praise, fingering, soft sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, flower language.

jean wouldn’t say he was popular by any means.

everyone knew of him, but it’s not like they actively tried to befriend him or get to know him. he only really talked to the people in his friend group, and even then it was quite spread out. meaning, there were friend groups inside the friend group. jean doesn’t necessarily understand, but he’ll take what he can get.

jean mostly stayed alone on campus, none of his friends were artists. sasha was in a florist course—or something, jean never hears her speak about it—marco was majoring in nursing along with psychology, and connie was... well... connie? jean knew that connie had classes, but he didn’t even know what they were along with his major.

this meant that jean had no friends in his art classes. he wasn’t upset about it though, he always preferred to keep in his bubble. it only really got annoying whenever the professors would give them group projects.

jean’s sighing while he checks his phone, a text message from sasha that says she’s at the campus’s greenhouse finishing up an assignment. jean and sasha usually hang out until three together, waiting for connie and marco to get out of their own classes.

he grunts as he sets off to the greenhouse, not looking forward to the humidity that awaits him outside of the building. the professor made them work in the sprinkling rain?

jean pulls out an umbrella whenever he gets outside. shivering at the almost dramatic temperature drop whenever he steps outside. he trudges through the soggy grass, ignoring the squelching of his shoes and the water.

“where are you,” he asks whenever he steps inside of the greenhouse, closing his umbrella and inhaling the different smells.

the greenhouse is empty besides one person, sitting on their knees as they fill a hole with soil gently.

“huh? did you need something,” you ask as you pull your gaze away from the plant, eyebrows furrowed.

jean feels his face flush, “oh! i’m sorry... my friend said she was here but you’re the only one who’s here.”

you blink and stare, which makes jean sweat. you light up with realization, “you’re talking about sasha right? if so, she’s here still, just needed to use the bathroom in the next building over.”

he utters a thanks while you get back to your work, awkwardly loitering by the door as a way to wait for his friend.

“wh-what’s your name,” he stutters to you, cringing at how his voice echoes against the glass of the building.

“i’m (name) (last name). you?”

“j..jean kirstein. nice to meet you,” he nods with a gulp.

“not to be offensive, and even if i say that, it might be, but you don’t exactly look like a horticultural major. what are you majoring in,” you’ve not looked up from the plant you’re caring for.

“i’m an art major,” he spits out.

you pause your movements and look up to the window for a moment, relaxed smile on your face.

“funny,” you shrug and go back to your task, “i don’t think i’ve ever painted before.”

he relaxes his tense shoulders, shock written all over his pretty face, “you’ve never painted?!”

“nope.”

“what about when you were a kid?”

“no, my parents didn’t approve of messes along with anything that wasn’t proven to meet their standards,” your bottom lip juts out from concentration.

“i see,” he hums, but he really doesn’t. his mother’s always been so supportive of him and whatever he’s chose to do with his life, and still he treated her horribly when he was younger.

“what’s this project even about,” he asks, walking closer to observe your craft.

“sasha and i have to try and grow strawberries on their own... it may not seem too difficult, but strawberries are an absolute pain to maintain care for,” you sigh with disappointment, “but i’m not working on that for right now, i’m just planting for now.”

“what are you planting?” jean’s sure that you’re becoming annoyed with him and all of the questions he’s asking.

you smile a bit, “lilac.”

jean can’t see exactly how that makes you happy or flustered, but considering you’re the expert and he isn’t, he’s not gonna ask. he goes to open his mouth once more, but the greenhouse door creaking open interrupts him.

“sorry jean! there was this long line in the girl’s bathroom,” sasha blurts as she shuffles into the room and shakes the rain off of her shoes.

“it’s fine, don’t worry,” he holds up a hand snd shakes his head.

“oh! (name), you’re still here,” she asks whenever she steps closer.

“yea, just felt like gardening,” you place the pot down gently and look up to her from your place on the floor.

“what’re you plantin’?”

“lilac,” jean answers for her and is once again struck by confusion whenever sasha’s cheeks light up as a smile stretches across her face.

he looks back to you to find you glaring at sasha with a secret knowledge.

“what? what’s so weird about it,” he asks, looking between you two.

“nothing nothing, jeanie boy! c’mon, i want a burger,” she giggles as she waves her hand up and down, turning around to go out of the door.

“didn’t niccolo feed you earlier,” he scoffs, following behind.

“yeah! he made me lobster. anyways, bye (name)!” she grins as she opens the door after taking jean’s umbrella.

jean fusses over her lack of care as he snatches his umbrella back from her and puts it over the both of them. briefly, his mind wonders back to you.

————

next time jean sees you, you’re looking quite frustrated and upset as you shovel dirt into a an empty pot. sasha is, once again, going to the bathroom in the building over.

“are you alright,” he’s hesitant.

you jump up, not even noticing him once he’d walked in. you relax while you sigh, eyebrows bunching up in frustration.

“i’m okay,” it seems you’re telling yourself this more than you tell jean, “my parents are just being upsetting.”

jean gets a text from sasha, telling him that she’s going to go to the bathroom in the main building since the line was too long. he doesn’t care for some reason, instead taking a seat beside you on the ground.

“wanna talk about it,” he asks, his body warm next to your’s.

you sigh for the umpteenth time, “we’ve only met once and i’d feel as if i would be dumping this onto you.”

“i don’t mind. if you don’t want to speak about it, i won’t force you,” he shrugs.

“well,” you start with reluctance, “my family’s always been judgmental of how i should be allowed to spend my time. not only that, but careers, interests, and friends.”

“and i assume they’ve said something about your major,” he assumes, slightly sad as you nod.

“bingo. they don’t think it’s sophisticated enough for me, but i’m not too sophisticated myself. i’m barely an adult, i’ve just turned 19. why they won’t let me be a kid is beyond me,” you gently lay the seed into the soil of the pot.

“i’ve never had this issue, so i can’t say that i completely understand or that what i say will help. however, good parents shouldn’t treat their child like that. you’re your own person, they shouldn’t be trying to limit you and your experiences. it’s not fair to you,” he says, “you’re parents are ignorant.”

you stifle a laugh, “thank you, jean. i appreciate it, genuinely.”

his cheeks flush as he nods, telling you that it was just something a friend would do for another.

“what’s your instagram,” you ask, swiftly pulling your phone from your pocket and pulling up the app.

he tells you nervously, three dings emitting from his phone in his pocket. one follow, one like, and one message.

jean finds himself texting you at nine pm.

————

jean finds himself giddy a few months later. he’s talked to you nonstop ever since he’s gotten your instagram, easily falling for you as he learns more about you.

he’s teaching you how to paint today. or, not really teach, but just helping you get started.

he sits on his couch while he waits, opting to watch some k-drama that connie recommend to him. he tells you that you can just walk in since the door’s unlocked, but jean has a feeling you would’ve just walked in anyways.

he hugs you excitedly whenever you walk in, leading you over to one of the easel and canvases he’s set up for you. he looks at your outfit.

“you’re wearing that?” he asks, not really thinking before he speaks.

“yea...? gotta problem with it,” you’re immediately defensive, and it has jean bouncing back with realization.

“oh my god, i meant you’re wearing that to paint? you’re outfit looks good on you! it’s cute! n-not to say that you’re cute or anything! er—i don’t mean that you’re not cute!” jean flushes, “i am... going to stop talking..”

you giggle at him, “it’s okay jean, i know what you mean.”

“o-okay,” he relaxes, “do you need to borrow any clothes? i don’t want your shirt to get dirtied.”

“just a shirt, your pants wouldn’t fit me,” you ask while you untuck your loose white button up from your jeans.

he scurries off to find you a shirt, slapping himself on the forehead in embarrassment. he grabs you a light grey shirt with paint splotches scattered on it, which he’s once painted a mural in.

he turns his back to you whenever he gives you the shirt, instead focusing on the collection of painting supplies he’s set out on his work tray. he’s chosen acrylics for you, claiming that they’re the easiest to do if you’re a beginner. you have a feeling that he’s lying, especially since he’s an art major.

“are we painting anything specific,” you ask and sit down on the stool provided for you.

“actually, i was thinking of letting you choose. maybe some flowers or plants since they help you relax,” he contemplates aloud, hand pressed to his chin.

“let’s paint a sunflower,” you say reluctantly, “they should be easy enough to paint.”

he nods, starting put small spurts of paint onto his pallet. you mimic his actions, carefully stroking the canvas with your paintbrush.

“relax your shoulders,” he suggests, noticing just how stiff you are, “if you’re too stiff then the painting will be too. this is about relaxing.”

“i just don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“hey, like bob ross always says; there are no mistakes, just happy accidents,” jean gives a lazy smile as he continues to paint.

you laugh at him, finally relaxing your body and brushing the brush across the canvas. you both chat absentmindedly as you paint, finding comfort in one another’s voice and movements. you’re both playing 20 questions, if you can call a conversation that.

“the most embarrassing thing... probably walking in on my friends having sex,” he briefly remembers his friend, bertholdt, on top of reiner, “it’s how they came out to me.”

you cackle, “oh my god!! they must’ve been mortified!!”

“they were, i felt so bad for walking in on them. now, it’s a funny joke since they’re both out to everyone,” he snickers, “now, where’s your favorite place on earth that you’ve been to?”

“a amusement park over in marley. snuck off with my first ever boyfriend there,” you stroke your brush once more, “or maybe the swimming pool in my parents house. anywhere that i can feel weightless.”

he hums in acknowledgment, “mine’s out in the forest probably. i like it quiet.”

“quiet is always nice. so, jean, have you ever had a girlfriend,” you laugh at jean’s face scrunch up from a childish question.

“yeah, i’ve had one. it went really well at first but it turns out that she likes girls. it hurt at first, cause i loved her, but i got over it. i’ve got no hard feelings against her, she can’t help liking girls. her and i are just really close friends now,” he has a fond smile on his face as he thinks of mikasa.

“i’m glad the two of you are still friends, and i’m sure that she appreciates your kindness to her,” you reciprocate a smile.

“me too. anyways, since you want to dive into my love life, let’s dive into your’s. have you ever been in love?”

you face heats up while you pause your movements, “y-yeah. not until recently though.”

jean’s eyes widen as his own cheeks flush a bright red, and for once he prays.

he prays that it’s him you’re in love with.

————

a month later and you still have the painting of a sunflower that jean did. it makes you embarrassed every time you look at it, even though jean didn’t know the meaning behind the flower.

you sit on the floor of the greenhouse, ignoring how the rain thumps gently on the glass roof. jean’s sitting beside you, leaning all of his weight on your body, which makes you laugh.

“you never told me what you’re planting,” he points out while adding more of his weight onto you.

you laugh while you shove him off of you, “i can’t with you on me like that.”

“well, now i’m not on you so,” he grins cockily, and you want to smack it off of him.

“okay, okay! i’m planting a primrose,” you say while you gently plant a seed into the soil.

“what’s the occasion?”

“what do you mean,” you raise a questioning eyebrow.

“my dad always got my mom those flowers on valentine’s day or for their anniversary. now, my mom puts them on his grave. it means ‘i can’t live without you’ or symbolizes young love,” he explains, “who’re they for?”

embarrassment hits you like truck. you were planting these for jean. whenever they were blooming, you were going to give them to him. thank god you didn’t.

you laugh nervously, “no one! i just felt like planting them! they’re pretty flowers.”

“whatever you say,” jean shrugs, heart tingling with pain.

whenever the flowers had bloomed, you stood at jean’s doorstep with the pot in your hands. your cheeks were hot as you stared at your feet, hoping to god that jean felt the same way towards you.

when jean opens his door, he doesn’t expect to see you holding the potted plant. you’d told him that it wasn’t for anyone and it wasn’t for him, so why’d you have it. did you want him to take care of it or something?

“for you,” you stumble over your words a bit while you thrust the pot against his chest.

it’s his turn to be embarrassed, these are for him! the flower is so pretty, full bloom and showing itself off towards the sun. jean hurries to place the pot on his living room coffee table, then he pounces.

his arms wrap around you and hold you close, his face is emitting a heat when he pulls away to look at you.

“me too,” you look at him confused, “i love you too.”

you feel like crying, for some reason this means the absolute world to you. you wrap your arms around his neck, not able to hold back the tears forming in your eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner,” he laughs while squeezing you tight.

“i did,” your laughter is muffled until he pulls away.

“when?”

“since we met. granted, i didn’t expect to meet you that day. lilac means the start of a new love. and then i told you again when you painted the sunflower again. sunflowers mean pure love,” you wipe away tears as jean pulls you inside his house by your hand.

“i’m such an idiot,” he smacks a palm to his forehead, “that’s what you and sasha were laughing about when we met, wasn’t it?”

“yea,” you watch him lead you to his bedroom, somewhere that you’ve been to on many occasions.

he crawls into bed beside you, pulling you closer to him—if it were even possible. he’s littering your face with soft kisses that tickle your skin and make you giggle.

“what are you doing?!”

“i’ve been wanting to do this since i’ve met you, give me a break,” he mumbles against your skin, lips finally making contact with your’s.

the kiss is sweet like candy, and you almost can’t take it. you deepen the kiss without hesitation, surprising jean, who obviously reciprocates. you whimper against jean’s mouth whenever you grant him access to explore your own.

he pulls away, a shy look in his eyes that tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“yes, jean. as long as you’re gentle,” you put a hand on top his cheek, stroking it gently.

he smiles before asking his next question shyly, “could we... do a different position? one that isn’t missionary.”

“jean, i’ve only had sex a few times. all were in missionary and were hookups. as long as it’s with you, i don’t mind what we do,” you reassure, scooting closer to him.

he’s surprised that his face doesn’t burst into flames, at this point.

“okay... could you... turn around,” your face twists into confusion, “you’ll find out.”

it sounds ominous, but since it’s jean, you don’t mind. you turn your back to him, shivering whenever his lips kiss at the nape of your neck. his chest presses against your back and he slips one of his arms under the arm against the bed.

his lips bite on your neck while his hands sliver their way up to your boobs. you sit up for a moment, pulling the loose shirt you were wearing off of your body. you shimmy your pants off while you’re at it, easily flopping back into jean’s arms.

god, he’s so close to fainting just from seeing you without clothes. especially when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra.

his hands grope at your chest, rolling your nipples through his nimble fingers. you whimper shyly, hand coming up to grab at his own.

“cute,” he smiles whenever you look over your shoulder, the same hand drifting from your tit to the waistline of your panties.

his hand reaches inside your hand plain underwear as you willingly spread your legs open, something you’re secretly embarrassed about, but you decide to ignore it anyways. with hesitance, his fingertip comes in contact with your clit. you flinch at the contact and let out a gasp, once again squeezing at his hand.

“spread your legs wider for me, love,” he murmurs in your ear, nudging his wrist against your thigh.

you oblige silently, hooking your foot around the back of jean’s knee.

“good girl,” he smiles, two fingers gently pressing against your clit after he’s wet them with his spit.

you moan out whenever jean starts rubbing lazy circles into your clit and his other hand gropes at your tit. your hips buck forward on instinct, which has you biting your lip from embarrassment.

“can you try to keep your hips still for me,” he kisses at your earlobe, stubble scratching against your neck.

you nod to him, even if you both know that you won’t uphold that promise.

whenever his fingers move up a speed, so does the volume of your moans.

“jean,” you whimper, “i’m gonna cum.”

“it’s okay, you’ve been so good for me, my pretty girl. go ahead and cum,” he smiles against your skin, once again speeding up his tempo.

your nails are biting into his wrist as your hips start to buck almost uncontrollably. your head is thrown back while you open your mouth in a silent scream and your eyes roll back. jean slows his pace, helping you ride out your orgasm.

his smile stretches wider when he holds his fingers up to the light, admiring how the digits glistened in against the early morning sun peeking through the curtains. he also manages to take off your panties.

he puts the two fingers in your mouth once he’s done admiring them, cooing praises in your ear. a string of salvia is connect to his fingertips whenever he pulls them out of your mouth, making you whine in embarrassment. he chuckles and reaches his warm hand back down to your wet cunt.

you gasp at the coldness of your spit coming into contact with your heated entrance. his fingers enter you slowly and cautiously and it takes your breath away.

“you’re so tight,” still smiling, “when’s the last time you’ve gotten laid, pretty girl?”

“f-fuck... maybe like... six months ago,” you pant like a dog in heat.

“it’s good thing you’ve got me now, huh? gonna take care of you now.”

you’re squeezing your pretty eyes closed while you adjust to the feeling of two fingers inside of you. jean feels himself memorizes the look on your face in his brain whenever he gives a shallow thrust with his fingers. you wiggle your hips a bit, whining out for jean to give you more.

he does exactly that.

he starts to finger you slowly, eventually speeding up the speed as you get more and more used to the feeling. his fingers curl against your sweet spot that has you bucking your hips once again.

“there! there,” you buck again when he continues to brush over it.

angling his fingers just right, he starts to thrust and curl his fingers inside of you at the perfect speed.

“fuck! fuck! fuck!” you gasp whenever your toes start to curl.

“are you gonna cum again? it’s okay. go ahead and cum on my fingers, pretty girl,” he reassures while pecking at your neck lazily.

you come once again after a few seconds pass, legs shaking when jean doesn’t slow down his speed.

“can’t...! i can’t cum again,” you whimper while arching your back against jeans torso.

“i know you can,” he whispers, “gotta prepare you for my cock, remember?”

his filthy words make you mewl as you feel yourself already approaching another orgasm quickly. you scream whenever you orgasm again, hips jerking back and forth wildly as his other hand starts rubbing on your puffy little clit.

you’re crying from the intensity. you’re sure that if you’d be able to take all of this if you had fucked anyone these past six months.

instead of slowing down, jean actually speeds up his movements again. you know that you’re mascara might be smearing, you can’t remember if it’s waterproof, tear proof—what the fuck ever.

your legs convulse when jean manages to work you up to another mind blowing orgasm. but this time, you squirt all over jean’s hand and the insides of your plump thighs.

“there we go,” he praises, “that’s what i needed.”

he’s finally slowing his fingers down, and you wonder if they’re aching at the moment.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” you babble as your nails scratch at his wrist.

“such a sweet girl, thanking me when i haven’t even trained you.”

your chest is heaving up and down while jean pulls his cock out of his pants, a moment’s rest.

you gulp whenever you see his dick. you didn’t believe sasha’s jokes whenever she said jean not only had a horse face but also a horse cock. how she knew, you didn’t ask, but either way she was right. you’d have to apologize to sasha for not heeding her warnings after this.

“don’t be scared, love. i’ll take care of you,” he comforts you while pulling your leg up a bit.

his fingers squeeze at the soft flesh that’s the back of your thigh, instructing you on how to insert himself in your tight little pussy.

after guiding jean’s cock in you, you sob out from just how much he fills you up already. you don’t take a pause, too eager to feel jean inside of you.

noticing this, jean hooks his arm around your thigh and grabs your hand. the angle has his hitting spots that he hadn’t before, pussy fluttering around his cock in effect.

“be patient,” he demands in a soft tone, his hand guiding your own, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

“don’t care, need you so bad,” you sniffle and wiggle your hips once more, ignoring the slight burn.

sighing, jean carefully thrusts the rest of his cock inside of you. you sob out in both pleasure and pain, hand now going back to scratching at his wrist.

“i told you, sweet girl,” you look at him from over your shoulder, “you gotta listen to me.”

“‘m sorry,” you whimper while jean kisses away a tear.

“t’s okay, now just wait until your comfortable,” he advises, unhooking his arm from your thigh and holding it with his hand.

it takes a minute or two, but jean is nothing but attentive during this. thumb stroking your thigh, lips kissing your neck and cheek, whispering quietly in your ear that you’re doing so well.

when you’re ready, he thrusts into you softly. he doesn’t want to hurt you, even when his dick hurts from not cumming. after seeing you’re alright with it, he thrusts more vigorously. with your skin slapping against one another’s tenderly and tits bouncing jean is groaning in your ear.

the hand not holding your thigh holds onto your boob, pinching your nipple and then rolling it in between his fingers again. the kisses he’s pressing against your shoulder feels so hot and sweet against your sweaty skin.

your whines and moans are so cute, begging for jean to cum at the same time you do and for him to come inside.

“you want my cum in you,” he pants, “anything you want since you’ve asked so nicely.”

he speeds his hips up just a bit, guttural groans coming from his throat as your pussy grips him like a vise.

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you’re mewling almost makes jean black out.

“i’m right behind you, go ahead, love,” his eyebrows bunch together as he nears his orgasm.

after two more thrusts, the both of you are coming. jean’s groans are surprisingly starting to turn into soft moans, which is something you’ll try to get out of him another time.

after you both come down from your high, jean’s pulling his softening dick out of you. he lays on his backside, pulling your weak body on top of his chest with ease.

“love you,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“primrose love,” you smile goofily at him.

“primrose love.”

[hee4won]

hate(d) | nishimura riki x reader

requested by @onionhaseyeo i’m so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted but for some reason i got super excited

a/n: this is my first time writing a fic(?) i guess it could be considered.. i just had an idea i liked for the request and it felt more like a fic than a headcanon :] i hope it’s not too bad !

word count: 2.1k

warnings: probably some grammatical errors, other than that none. (lowercase intended)

tags: e2l, slight angst, slight fluff

you hate nishimura riki. when you tell others how you feel about him they always have the same unoriginal response, “hate is such a strong word.” and that, is exactly why you chose it. 

now, in order to really understand why your hatred runs so deep, let’s get into the Three W’s! WHY do you hate him so much? he stole your best friend, she ended up developing feelings for him and ghosting you, she moved away, he never apologized for it. WHEN did you realize nishimura riki was the worst thing to ever happen to you? 7th grade, it’s always 7th grade. WHERE did the beginning of the end commence? the cafeteria, your friend decided to spill her guts out in front of the whole lunch table, only to be humiliated not long after. 

there you sat, glaring at the back of riki’s head. anyone from a mile away could sense your distaste when it came to him. truth be told, no one could understand why, and you never cared to explain. you figured the situation between the two of you or - just you and an unknowing boy -  was personal and should be kept private. you were really good at keeping it a secret too, so good that riki himself couldn’t pinpoint the issue you had with him. 

for the most part you did your best to avoid him, whether it be physically or when he was brought up in conversation between classmates. ni-ki, as people on good terms with him would address him, was a really friendly student. he didn’t pick fights, kept his teasing to a minimum, and somehow got good grades despite sleeping in and skipping classes. 

going to school knowing his sweet, smiling face would be one of the first things you would see in the morning was what kept you in bed during first period. just the idea of him was revolting, and you simply weren’t strong enough to hold your ground right after waking up.

that was until your first period teacher emailed you letting you know a group project was coming up and it counted as 60% of your overall grade. all you could do was send a friendly reply, close the laptop, and scream into your pillow. you were going to be seeing nishimura riki for the first time in almost a month. which you considered to be the best month of your life.

you were alert all morning, barely getting any sleep the night before from how nervous you were. it actually wasn’t as bad as you thought. you were late, which meant everyone already picked who they were going to group with. and, to your luck, riki was nowhere to be foun-

*bump*

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry. . . y/n?” sigh, of course it had to be him. you flashed a limp smile and hurried over to an empty seat. you noticed his hand go forward then drop down to his side, almost like he was trying to bring you back. “oh! ni-ki,” even the teacher knows his nickname? how wonderful. “what perfect timing, you and y/n will be partners for the project, i’ll send the rubric out this afternoon. class dismissed!”

your legs were like jelly, since when did you become this way? sure, you hate him but. . . not being able to move? it was different, it was new. riki noticed the look of confusion on your face and cautiously made his way over to you once all the other students cleared the classroom. “hey, y/n. i haven’t seen you in a while, have you been doing alright?” why on earth was he concerned about you? so shameless.

“yeah, i’m fine, thanks,” you glared at him while standing up and purposefully bumping into his shoulder. bad move. your knees gave out right then, luckily, riki held onto you before you could hit the cold floor. you sighed in defeat, today just wasn’t your day, and mister nishimura just wasn’t the person you wanted to be this close to.

“do you need something? or is there another reason you won’t let go of my arm,” every word had a hint of poison mixed in it. riki muttered a small apology and quickly released you. “i just wanted to let you know that we can work on the project at my place, only if you want,” he gave a boxy closed-mouth smile, almost as if he was trying to act cute. disgusting.

“whatever, give me your address and i’ll come by at 4.” and with that, you two went your separate ways.

after school

as you made your way to riki’s house, you were running over every possible scenario that could occur. you wanted to avoid arguing, only because you took your grades very seriously. but does he? you couldn’t help but feel nervous and slightly jittery as you got closer to his front steps. oh! the door is open. but. . . no riki?

you called out for him a couple times until hearing laughter and the crunching of chips coming down from the second floor. of course, he’s playing the game. trudging up the stairs you wiped off your sweaty palms, mentally preparing yourself before inviting yourself into his room.

“sunghoon, shut up! it’s not even like that, you’re so weird,” he was so loud. “jake, you too! as if you haven’t been trying to swoon that girl in your third period for the past two months now. haha!” well, boys will be boys.

you open the door and riki notices immediately. he throws his headset and controller down to the floor. “y/n, you scared me,” he was almost out of breath. “oh my bad, i called out for you but you didn’t hear me so. . .” you fiddled with your fingers awkwardly. riki muttered a quick, “it’s okay” and gestured for you to take a seat on his bed.

picking up his headset, he told the cheeky upper-class boys that he would talk to them later. grabbing his supplies and computer, he took a seat next to you. you shifted away from him a little, not comfortable with the closeness between the two of you. he didn’t seem to notice, that or he just didn’t care.

“okay, so, have you already looked over the rubric?” crickets. “helloo, earth to y/n! have you checked the rubric yet?” “OH! yes, i have, ha,” you gave a quick reply, trying to pretend the awkward moment of you staring at him never happened.

ha? are you insane? you were nervous yes, and you thought it was because of the bad terms you two were on but. . . this nervousness felt a bit different.

“i also wrote up a quick outline during lunch,” you took the paper out of your bag and moved to hand it to him. “ooh nice, you’re such a scholar,” you gave him a lighthearted “shut up” before looking back at your laptop.

did he feel that? your fingers touched. they did touch, right? you can’t be imagining all of this. Y/N. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU HATE HIM, REMEMBER?

“uh, y/n? why do you look like you’ve been holding in a wet fart for the past three minutes?” he was being playful while also holding genuine concern because of your recent actions. your jaw drops, you were always bad at keeping a poker face. but you knew you had to go back to your cold state, there was no way you were going to finish the project by gawking at him. he has such pretty lips by the way, how did you not notice sooner?

it had been a few hours since you guys started working on the project. you checked the time, 8:00 pm. “hey, riki,” you began with a small yawn. “y/n, you know you can call me ni-ki, right? that’s what all my friends call me,” his eyes suddenly widened noticing your discomfort. “wait, i mean. . . only if you want to!”

you cleared your throat and just asked for the bathroom. once inside and closing the door behind you, you felt the need to cry. sob, even. what is going on? why do you feel so bad for being around him? are you a traitor? is it wrong to be laughing and giggling like the two of you are besties?

you turned the water on, hoping it would drown out the sound of your muffled cries. unfortunately, you have some awfully loud sniffles. riki came running to where you were and knocked on the door. he spoke softly, “y/n? are you okay? can i come in?” what was the point in saying no? it is his house, and maybe if you told him. . . you’d feel better.

as you opened the door and looked up at him, the look of worry on his face made your heart ache. gosh, why do you care about him so much? he looked at your tear stained face and slowly reached out his hand, giving you a look that pleaded for your approval. you pass a small nod, and almost sank into the warmth of his hand on your cheek. he pulled you in for a hug as you cried for a little while longer. “do you wanna talk about it?”

here it was, here was the chance to let him know what you’ve been wanting to since 7th grade. you took a moment to steady your breathing and gather courage to look him in the eyes. you told him everything, from the beginning of 7th grade, to the day it all happened, all the way to where the two of you stood now.

he just sat there, probably trying to process everything you had randomly dumped on him. you were about to apologize and pack your things, but for some odd reason, he smiled? “ni-ki? what’s so funny? i was being serious,” his smile only grew bigger, “no i know, i just find it so funny how you had so much agaisnt me meanwhile i just wanted you to like me.”

he?? wanted you to like him??? hmmm. “what do you mean. . . wanted me to like you?” you were really curious, “i’ve had a crush on you since 7th grade, that’s why i rejected your friend later on. i never knew it would hurt you in the process, and for that i am sorry. very sorry.” you let out a small chuckle, “it’s not your fault, really. now that i’m older i think i was only mad that you two didn’t end up together because i liked you too. i just couldn’t live with myself for liking the same boy my best friend liked. it’s stupid, i know.”

riki reached out for your hand, which you obviously let him have. “you’re a good friend.” he flashed you a sweet and caring smile. you let out a sigh of relief, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. all this time you had been pushing for yourself to hate him, while it was all just a plot to get rid of your feelings for him. crazy.

it was 11:00 pm.

you and riki had already finished the project and were laying on his floor. the both of you just staring at the ceiling and stealing glances at each other. what lovesick little kids.

after noticing the time, you hopped up and told him you really needed to go. he gave you a small pout with puppy eyes trying to get you to stay, and of course, it was hard but you’d rather leave now and see him later than get grounded and not see him for another month. “i can just text you, don’t make that face.”

he escorted you down the stairs, both of you moving discreetly, careful not to wake the boy’s parents. he opened the door for you and you turned around, gazing at him. “what are you thinking?” he asked with a tired smile on his face and small pieces of fluffy hair sticking up in every direction. you gave a shy smile and pecked his lips. he was very surprised, but also very happy.

“nothing.” you said, holding a cheeky grin in an attempt to hide your shyness. “wow, just to think that you hate my guts,” riki poked fun at you.

“hm, hate is such a strong word.”

“what would you call it then?”

“i would say. . . i hate(d) you. past tense.”

the two of you just laughed, both of you yawning shortly after.

“goodnight, mr. ni-ki.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

and with that, the two of you went your separate ways. but this time, with mutual feelings.

oh and btw, the project got you guys an A+ ;).