#I was expecting an emotional gut punch and I didn’t even get a split lip

[cultivating-wildflowers]

finishing a book, staring at the cover for a minute, and going “huh. ok.” before carrying on with my day

[iydiamartinx]

THREE SECONDS

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 1.8k synopsis: You call Damian after you catch your boyfriend cheating on you. a/n: I love writing younger Damian since he's more funny but grown up Damian is equally fun to write in his own way. The pair are platonic but if you squint there's the implication of more.

The hallway spun. Not literally—but in that dizzy, gut-punched way that comes after betrayal. You couldn’t even remember how you got out of that apartment. You just remember slamming the door  behind you harder than you intended, the sound echoing in the quiet of the hall. You were still shaking—whether from rage, disbelief, or heartbreak, you couldn’t say.

You’d seen it. Heard it. That sickening moment when you opened his door without knocking, expecting to surprise him, only to become the one caught off guard. Clothes half-on. Some girl giggling. His stammered excuse still rang in your ears.

You didn’t even remember the Uber ride. Just rushing out of the car, the ache in your chest threatening to split you open, and the rush of cold air as you sprinted up your building’s stairwell.

By the time you reached your apartment, your fingers were clumsy at the lock. Your breath came in harsh gasps. The tears you’d held back during the ride now fell freely—hot, burning tracks down your cheeks. The moment replayed over and over again—his voice, that laugh, her shirt on the floor, the look on his face—Not for what he’d done but because he’d been caught.

You made it inside.

Locked the door.

Collapsed to the floor.

You didn’t know what else to do but call the one person who wouldn’t feed you lies. Wouldn’t try to make this better. Who wasn’t friends with your now ex. 

You hadn’t even thought about it. Your fingers dialled his number before your brain caught up. And when he answered, you didn’t even speak. You didn’t need to. The second he heard your broken sobs, he just said, “Stay where you are.”

You don’t remember getting up, but somehow, you’d pulled yourself from the hardwood and changed. You were now curled up on the couch in a sweatshirt far too big for you—his sweatshirt, actually, left from a night he crashed here after patrol. 

You peeled yourself off the couch, every movement heavy, limbs weighted with exhaustion and emotion. You shuffled barefoot to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock. 

He didn’t say a word at first. Just took one look at you—red-rimmed eyes, blotchy skin, your frame swallowed in his old hoodie—and stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

“Did he touch you?” he asked, voice too calm.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh that didn’t sound like you. “It wasn’t me he was touching.”

Damian’s jaw ticked.

“Where is he?” he asked quietly, voice cold.

You shook your head. “It was at his place. I left.”

He stepped closer, green eyes scanning you head to toe like he was checking for wounds.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“I—I’m fine,” you lied, trying to straighten your spine.

His gaze locked on yours, unflinching. “Don’t lie to me.”

And just like that, your composure cracked.

Your lip quivered. Tears welled again, the pressure of them spilling over with barely a blink. He exhaled—quietly, slowly—some of the sharpness in his expression softening.

“Come here,” he murmured, stepping forward. “Sit down.”

His hand found yours, grounding, warm despite the chill still clinging to your skin. He led you gently back to the couch, as if you might shatter if he wasn’t careful.

He didn’t let go of your hand until you were seated again, curled up into the corner of the couch like you were trying to disappear into the fabric. Only then did he crouch in front of you, resting his forearms on his knees, eyes level with yours.

“Tell me what happened,” he said softly.

You hesitated. Your voice was paper-thin. “I thought I’d surprise him… he always said I didn’t do that enough. So I went over, hoping we’d spend some time together. He’d given me a key so I just walked in.”

Damian said nothing, just waited. Not rushing you. Not reacting. But you could see the effort it took—how tightly he held himself, how his fingers twitched like they wanted to reach for something and break it.

You blinked through the blur of tears. “I heard her laughing first. Then I saw them. She was in her underwear. His shirt was off. They were kissing. He tried to make excuses and say it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Damian scoffed under his breath—sharp and dry.

“I-I just left,” you finished, barely audible.

Silence settled between you like dust.

And then Damian stood.

You looked up quickly. “Don’t—don’t go to him. Please.”

“I’m not,” he said, voice tight. “At least yet.”

Instead, he went to your kitchen and poured you a glass of water that he came back and handed over. You let the coolness settle you as you took small sips watching as he paced back and forth in your small living room. You could practically feel the war going on behind his eyes. Not between right and wrong—he already knew which side he stood on—but between restraint and wrath. 

You wiped at your cheeks. “I’m fine,” you whispered again.

“You keep saying that,” Damian muttered, coming to a halt. He turned toward you, his expression unreadable. “But you’re not.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He moved again—this time toward you. He sat beside you slowly, carefully, like he was afraid of pushing too hard too fast.

Then, gently, Damian lifted your legs and guided them into his lap. His arm settled around your shoulders, the other curling across your knees like a protective cage. His posture was slightly stiff from discomfort but for you he was trying.

You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the warmth of him.

“I feel so stupid,” You admitted quietly.

Damian didn’t respond at first. Just the sound of his breath—steady, quiet—filled the space between you. His arm tightened around you a little, as though he could shield you from the words before they even left your mouth.

“You’re not,” he said finally, his voice low and certain. “Don’t mistake betrayal for foolishness.”

“I should’ve seen it coming.” The shame bled through your voice, thick and unshakable. “The late replies. The cancelled plans. I thought I was just overthinking—being insecure.”

“You trusted him.” His tone didn’t waver. “That’s not a flaw. That’s decency.”

You gave a shaky exhale, your cheek pressing against the fabric of his hoodie. “Maybe I don’t know how to choose decent people.”

“You don’t have to carry the blame for someone else’s cowardice. He failed you. Not the other way around.”

Your chest hitched, breath catching somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Since when did you get so good at saying the right thing?”

He huffed, just a little, and you could feel the shift of his chest under your cheek. “Because I usually am.”

There it was: the faint thread of arrogance laced through his voice, familiar and absurdly comforting. You felt the corner of your mouth twitch, the smallest stir of something close to amusement.

But the moment barely had time to settle.

but just as you were finally calming down and relaxing, frantic knocking broke the peaceful silence the two of you fell into and you could hear the muffled voice of your ex pleading for you to let him in so he could explain.

You froze.

Without a word, Damian easily lifted you off of his lap and set you back down on the couch before striding to the door, opened it—and stood in the doorway like a shadow from a nightmare. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“You have exactly three seconds to walk away.”

Your ex blinked, caught off guard. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his voice rising with a scoff. “Has she been cheating on me with you?!”

Damian didn’t even blink.

His gaze remained fixed—unflinching, unreadable, but unmistakably cold. The kind of look that didn’t entertain foolishness. 

“One.”

Your ex’s eyes flicked past him, trying to look into the apartment. “This is insane. I just want to talk to her. I didn’t come here to fight—”

“Two.”

A muscle in Damian’s jaw ticked. He hadn’t raised his voice, but the shift in his posture was unmistakable. Still calm. Still collected. But coiled. Like a wolf deciding whether the threat was worth the bite.

“Look, I messed up, alright?” your ex said quickly, hands rising like he was trying to fend off a blow that hadn’t come yet. “I just want her to hear me out—”

“You won’t get the chance to say her name again if you don’t turn around right now,” Damian said.

Seemed your ex was stupider than you’d ever given him credit for. He squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest like that would somehow make a difference as he tried to square up—but Damian was still taller.

Yes, your ex was broader—more muscle, more bulk—but you knew the difference. Damian’s strength wasn’t for show. It was built for combat.

“Oh yeah?” he sneered. “And what are you going to do?”

He didn’t even see the moment shift.

One second, Damian was still. The next—your ex was slammed against the hallway wall, his feet barely scraping the floor, Damian’s hand locked around his throat.

The sound of the impact echoed through the empty hall.

Damian didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The venom in his tone was enough.

“You’re fortunate I’ve retired from killing.” he said, eyes burning into the man’s paling face. “Others have died for far less.”

Your ex struggled, gagged softly against the grip, but Damian held him there—hovering on the edge of real violence.

“Tt. Pathetic. You don’t get a second chance, coward.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a razor’s edge. “Go near her again, and you’ll wish death was the worst of your options.”

Then—just as suddenly—Damian let go.

Your ex crumpled against the wall, coughing and gasping, arms trembling. His gaze darted toward you, but he didn’t speak. Whatever cowardice had kept him dangerous before had finally caught up with him. He turned and bolted down the hall, stumbling over his own feet like the pathetic excuse for a man he was.

Damian stood there for another breath, watching the retreat before he turned, stepped back inside, and shut the door calmly.

The second he was within reach, you crossed the space between you and threw your arms around him. Damian stiffened, only for a moment. Then his hands found your back, steady and warm.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his chest.

He was quiet for a beat. Then, dry as ever, “If he shows his face again, I’ll introduce him to my katana.”

You huffed a small, unexpected laugh, the sound muffled in his shirt. “Violent solutions. Very on-brand.”

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to glance down at you. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t.

Not when it was him.

[sinnabonka]

If you wish hard enough

Dean’s never been one to expect gifts from anyone, let alone God himself, but today he's gotten the best gift he could ever wish for, on AO3

Dean wakes up to a gentle caress on his cheek. It feels nothing like Miracle's wet slimy wake up call that's become a part of his daily morning routine, and he jolts, hands scavenging the sheets for his gun.

The emptiness under the pillow makes Dean’s guts flip, but his mind keeps searching for options. He remembers there’s a pen knife hidden in his boot under the bed, a demon blade in the jacket hanging on the doorknob, plus, there is always a lamp on the nightstand he could effectively fling.

Instead, running the numbers, he decides first to shed some light onto the scene, and paws his way to the switch and flips it.

He winces when the white dim light floods the room.

As his eyes refocus, he blinks, mouth falling open. Swallowing, his throat clenches around the fragment of a sound ready to escape. His fists ball on the comforter on both sides of his thighs as his stomach careens into the endless and weightless feeling of falling.

The light is weak, the outlines it draws are smudged and blurry.

“Hello, Dean.”

The room floor tilts like a ship deck in a storm, and Dean finds himself grasping on solid surfaces of the furniture in a rushed attempt to get out of the bed. His lungs ache at the lack of air to fill them up.

Dean makes one unsure step, then another. His knees buckle, but with the last ounce of strength he forces himself to stay upright.

He reaches out to what has to be a ghost, because what else can it be, and as he does, his fingers are trembling. A hopeful thought struggles, drowning in the white noise inside his skull.

And then there’s a touch.

“Cas.”

Dean chokes on the word, the one he kept whispering in the middle of the night for the last few months trying to speak it into existence. The name he was too broken and hurt to say out loud knowing the sound of it would defeat him if he did. The name he was sure he was never meant to say again looking into those familiar blue eyes, now staring back at him, expecting.

“Cas,” he repeats, finally finding the solid ground. His voice is low and trembling, but unlike all the times he’s been sobbing it half asleep, his voice is not hollow anymore. It may be a bit too emotional than Dean cares to admit.

“Hello,” the ghost repeats with an unsure smile.

“Hey,” Dean says back.

It’s just a moment before an unknown force pushes him forward. His hands fly, touching, grasping, pulling in. Dean abruptly exhales as the air gets punched out of him in a single moment when their chests collapse against each other.

“Cas,” he whispers, burying his face into the crack of Cas’ neck.

The wrinkled fabric of the trench coat under his palm feels real, so does the warm, soft skin under the pressure of his cheek and the hand slipping up to rest across his back in comforting circles.

Please be real. He squeezes his eyes shut and allows a single loud sob escape his lungs.

“I’m here,” says Cas, but Dean is not sure if he hears it or feels the vibration of the voice, pressing too hard to the source of it. “I’m right here, Dean. It’s alright now.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again. I thought the Empty…”

“Some things are beyond their control,” Cas says with a smile, before pulling away.

“But why?” Dean shakes his head at the way the question sounds and asks instead: "How?”

“Jack says hi,” Cas smiles knowingly.

It’s a short moment of silence between them, a moment of long-awaited comfort and relief, and Dean’s afraid to spoil it with words. He leans in closer and lets both his hands rest on Cas’ shoulders. He catches himself thinking that if he lets go, looks away or blinks too slowly, Cas is going to disappear, dissolve into nothingness, leaving him alone in the dim light of the bedroom.

He slowly shakes his head, staring into Cas’ eyes, as if gathering the fuel for his own bravery. He clears his throat before speaking up.

“I need to say something,” he starts, each word weighed and measured. “Last time you bailed on me and didn’t give me a chance to, so now I’m gonna jump straight to the...”

“Dean, I…”

“Goddammit, Cas, let me finish. I’m not the talking kind, you know that. This one is long due.” He clears his throat again, though it’s nothing physical he can simply cough out. Dean tries again: “I need to say it, okay? I never thought I’d get a chance, I’m still not sure I’m not daydreaming over a book or something.”

Cas looks as if he was about to interrupt him again, but never does.

“I promised myself that if I ever see you again, it would be the first thing I say, okay? No maybe laters, no tomorrows, just here, now, a’right? Last time it took Thee Death literally knocking at the door for one of us to speak up.” Dean smiles nervously. “That’s not happening again.”

Cas’ eyebrows raise, but he stays respectfully silent.

“I’m not losing you again, you hear me? So you gotta cut this self-devotion-take-me-instead crap. From now on, none of that. Clear?”

Cas nods, not sure if he still is not allowed to speak.

“Good,” Dean says with a dead serious expression etched across his face.

His heart is loud inside his chest, the even thuds echoing through his temples. He can’t think of what he’s doing even for a split second or he’ll find a thousand and one excuses not to. And he can’t afford it, not this time. His hand lands on the back of Cas’ neck and he inches closer, suddenly short of breath.

“Dean...”

“Shut up,” he huffs, freezing for a moment with his eyes glued to Cas’ mouth. He licks his own lips, he curses silently, and comes the rest of the way in one movement.

When their lips meet, Dean shakily exhales and sinks into the kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers against Cas’ mouth, as if just hearing it was not enough, as if Cas had to taste the sincerity of those words to believe them.

“I love you,” he repeats into the kiss, and he misses the moment when Cas’ hands wrap around him and press them together firmly.

“I love you, dumbass,” he smirks, “and I am not losing you again. You hear me?”

“Of course,” Cas answers.

It takes them another few minutes before they break away. Breathless, blushed, they look at each other with unmistakable fondness.

“What time is it?” Cas asks suddenly.

Dean looks over his shoulder on the clock, but for a moment can’t make out the numbers jumping under his blurry vision.

“Ten past midnight,” he says finally, and follows with, “Why? Gotta be home before you turn into a pumpkin?”

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas says, instead of reflecting on the joke, and plants another quick kiss on Dean’s lips. “Jack asked to wish you a happy birthday, too, and to remind you that if you wish hard enough for something, it’s sure to come true. I guess it was him…”

“Yeah,” Dean interrupts, his face warming up, “Yeah, I know what that's about.”

He rests his forehead against Cas’, eyes squeezed shut, and thinks of how it took him forty two years to finally take his first full breath.

He's never been one to expect gifts from anyone, let alone God himself, but today he's gotten the best gift he could ever wish for.

“I love you too,” Cas whispers, and Dean’s heart sings to it.

He smiles at the thought of how later today, when he will be blowing out candles on his birthday cake, he will have nothing left to wish for.

[honeytae]

I can’t wait to create more memories with you.

hi my loves! so this is a super fluffy little piece about jungkook and his s/o moving in together - it starts out on moving day and there’s a little flashback to when the topic of moving in together was first brought up :) it’s overall just really cute idk i hope you guys like it <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

Slowly turning the handle to enter your apartment, you tried your best to mentally prepare yourself for what you would inevitably see. That didn’t seem to work, though, since it felt like an absolute sucker-punch to the gut. 

The space looked brand new; a completely blank canvas for its next tenants.

Walking into the empty apartment you used to call your own now felt heavy instead of homey. The path to your bedroom felt routine, but slightly shaken with the absence of all your things. Photos of your family no longer occupied the walls, that little throw rug you’d picked out for the summer had been cleaned off the floor, and the various vases of flowers your boyfriend surprised you with were no longer kept front and center on the table against the wall. 

And even though those items were still in existence, even though everything was still intact and far from gone, it still made your heart clench a bit in your chest that they would no longer be here.

Rounding the corner to enter your bedroom, you leaned your shoulder against the door frame for a moment, admiring the pristine openness of your room in its empty state. You couldn’t recall it ever feeling so big.

Heaving a deep sigh, you let your legs carry your body over to the bay window, taking a seat on the ledge to peer out at the view one last time.

At the sound of Jungkook calling your name, you glanced back to the doorway of your bedroom, staring at your boyfriend as he tipped his head at your unreadable expression.

Although he’d been lifting boxes all throughout the morning and afternoon, somehow he barely looked strained. In fact, he was still annoyingly attractive. He had his grown out hair tossed back into a bun (with one of your hair ties), and he was wearing plain black shorts hidden beneath one of his many oversized t-shirts.

How he could make it all look so good, you had no idea.

“Hi.” You said, the man wordlessly approaching you with a run of his palms down his thighs, crossing the room in only a few long strides to get to your swinging legs.

“I didn’t expect to find you in here. You okay?” He asked, his brows pulled together as he took a seat beside you.

Taking a stray strand of your hair between his fingers, he pushed it back from your face, subtly analyzing the emotions written into your features with dancing pupils.

Immediately wanting to ease him, you leaned forward, pursing your lips underneath his jawline before letting your chin rest on his shoulder. 

Wrinkling your nose at the odor rising from his t-shirt, you tilted your head slightly to escape the smell, unbeknownst to Jungkook.

“You’re sweaty.” You observed, the man craning his neck to look down at you, comically raising his brows at your bluntness.

“I’ve been working!” He defended himself, making you chuckle a bit before picking your head up to smile at him.

“I know you have.” You said appreciatively, leaning forward to press your lips to his when he subtly puckered them out to you.

“Saying your goodbyes?” He offered in explanation to your presence in the apartment, having already successfully gathered every last box there was to take.

You laughed at that, nodding a bit in response.

“In a way.” You shrugged, letting your temple fall on his bicep with a sigh. Shifting your eyes down to your leg as Jungkook grabbed ahold of your thigh, you smiled as he lifted and draped it over his own thigh, drumming his pointer fingers on your muscle.

Feeling his lips purse against the top of your head, you let your eyes fall shut, the distant sound of birds outside the screened window behind you letting you zone out into a much more peaceful space than your mind had been in previously.

It was the only serene moment you’d had today. From movers bustling in and out of your apartment, your mom coming to help you label and sort all your boxes, your neighbors poking their heads in to the chaos to finally nose their way into seeing the layout of your place in comparison to theirs; it had been a lot.

“Are you gonna miss it here?” 

Peeling your eyes open at Jungkook’s sudden question, you lifted your head to properly look at him, curiosity evident in the slight widening of his eyes.

“Hm. The memories it holds, more than anything.” You answered, watching as he nodded in understanding. “I never liked the kitchen layout.” You added as an afterthought, causing the man to burst into giggles before shaking his head at you.

“I don’t think the kitchen was too bad. Although I love our kitchen.” He grinned at the emphasis he could officially put on the word, you sharing the same reaction at the phrase. Our kitchen. Our new apartment.

“I’m so excited.” You all but squealed, the man chuckling as you squeezed him tighter to you in your excitement.

“Me too.” He said, smile slightly closing his eyes as his face creased with the strength of his happiness.

“Remember how nervous you were when you first brought up moving in together?” You wondered, peeking over at the closet across the room that had started it all.

“I do.” He chuckled, making you smile as your brain took you back to the event that had taken place only a few months prior, in this very room.

“Hey.”

Looking up from the heap of clean clothes at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you had eyed a pouty Jungkook, raising your eyebrows at his expression as his eyes briefly fixed on the clothes before focusing back on your face as he shuffled into your bedroom. 

The tone and facial expression that Jungkook greeted you with had your eyes widened slightly, examining his approaching stature, his eyes squinted at you accusingly.

“Hi.” You responded, laying Jungkook’s clean boxers on your thigh to straighten the fabric before you creased it.

“Are you hiding something from me?” He asked, causing you to tip your head in confusion as you stared back at him, bottom lip jutted out slightly. 

“Not that I know of, no.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows raised at that, walking further into the bedroom to approach where you sat on the mattress folding a fresh load of clean clothes. 

You watched as his eyes searched the pile, sighing dejectedly before turning back toward the closet to rummage through it some more. 

“What are you up to?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions stalling only a bit when he picked up on the annoyed tone you used at his messing up of the rack of clothes in there. 

“I’m looking for my hoodie.” He explained his actions, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back. 

Jungkook seemed to have an emotional attachment to each and every one of his hoodies, even though he had hundreds to speak of. Every time you borrowed one, he tracked you down and made you give it back. 

It was never in a mean way; he only wanted his stuff returned, and you understood that. But at a certain point, it was just annoying. 

“Which one are you looking for?” 

“It’s the black one with the blue flames on the hood.” He recalled, scanning the row of clothes for the design before grunting in disapproval upon coming up empty-handed. 

Shaking your head, you sighed as you diverted your eyes back to the clothes awaiting folding. You could still hear the man rummaging through the plethora of hung items over your music, pressing your lips together in slight annoyance at the stubborn man. 

The closet in your bedroom was now a fifty-fifty split of your clothes and Jungkook’s. You couldn’t recall when he had started keeping clothes there; you suppose it just happened naturally as he spent more and more time with you. 

In fact, you were going on two years. You had picked up his habits and him some of yours, you knew all his little quirks and vice versa. Including his necessity for keeping all his precious hoodies in check. 

“Why must you fret about each and every one of your hoodies' temporary absences?” You sighed, the man mumbling an “ouch” as something fell out onto his foot. 

“Because I know someone,” he looked back to you for emphasis, “likes to steal them and then I never get them back. I swear you’re renting a storage locker for my hoodies just so I can’t find them here.” 

At his dramatics, you merely sighed again, going back to folding your t-shirt before you paused, looking up to stare at the back of his head. 

Thinking back, you could picture the black hoodie in a heap on his bedroom floor the other day, tossed aside after some activities between you two and obviously forgotten about by your boyfriend. 

“Did you check your place?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions pausing at your words before he slowly spun around to you. 

His face was plagued with guilt, cheeks full in a different kind of pout than the bratty one he’d greeted with as his sweet doe eyes came out to play. 

“Ugh, sorry.” He said, cheeks heated before he made his way over to you, landing on the mattress with his head resting on your thigh. 

You chuckled at the embarrassed pout on his face as he nestled his head into your leg, staring up at you with a ‘hmph.’

“I just can’t seem to keep track of what’s at mine or yours.” He explained, you nodding with a fond smile as you brushed hair back from his face. 

“I know. You just get so damn protective over those hoodies.” You teased, the man scrunching his nose at your cooing tone. 

“It is really difficult to keep track of what is where.” He sighed, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye that told you he was thinking something he wasn’t saying. 

“It is. What’s going on in here, baby?” You tapped your pointer finger against the crown of his head, the man smiling shyly as he grabbed your hand in his. 

“Why don’t we,” he trailed off, hoping you’d get his hint so he didn’t have to come out and actually say it. When you only stared at him in response, he sighed, shaking his head to negate what he’d been saying causing you to grab his wrist with a pout.

“Why don’t we what?” You asked, jutting your bottom lip out at the disappointed look on your boyfriends face, smoothing your thumb over the corner of his mouth to ease his frown. 

“Well, you know,” he shrugged, “since it’s so hard going back and forth between each other’s places,” he trailed off, groaning when you only smiled back at him, eyebrows raised in amusement as you waited for him to continue. 

The look on your face told him you knew. The gleam in your eye told him you knew exactly what he was trying to articulate. 

“Baby,” He groaned, realizing you were messing with him as you pulled begging eyes down at him. He removed his hand from yours, pulling it away with a pout as you chuckled at his reaction.

“What, Kook? What’s on your mind?” You continued playing dumb, wanting to drag the words you’ve been waiting so long to hear out from the man. 

“C’mon, why are you making me say it if you already know?” He whined, you giggling as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Because I want to hear it from you. And I like seeing you squirm.” You smirked, the man scoffing underneath you as he recaptured your hand in his own. 

“Baby, my sweet angel, the brightest star in the entire universe-“ 

“Jungkook!” You laughed, lightly squeezing his hand as you grinned down at him, his teeth shining up at you as he shyly blushed at the words in his brain. 

“Can we move in together?”

“Hm,” you hummed, the man’s eyes bulging as he slightly panicked beneath you, “give me some good reasons to.” You smirked again, your boyfriend gasping at your words before he took control, flipping you over to hover above your frame as you squealed at the sudden action. 

“You brat.” He leaned his forehead down to yours, effectively silencing you with a kiss to your lips, your fingers tickling at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“For one,” he started, “you wouldn’t have to hear me complaining about my missing hoodies anymore. I can make a mean cup of tea, I’m really good at laundry, I-”

You cut the man off with a press of your lips to his, silencing him with a muffled noise as his hand squeezed at your hip. 

“You don’t have to give me any reasons.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling them curl into a small smile as he made a noise of delighted surprise. He knew you were only teasing, but he couldn’t believe you hadn’t dragged it out longer. 

“Really?” He grinned, causing you to giggle beneath him out of sheer fondness.

“Yeah, I’ll move in with you.” 

“Really, really?” He grinned, his doe eyes sparkling at you as you nodded to confirm, laughing at the man’s goofy repetition of the question you’d already answered. 

“So, we’re actually doing this? We’re moving in together?” He raised his eyebrows, face melting into a grin as you brushed his hair back from his forehead. 

“I think we’re ready, don’t you?” You smiled, the look of absolute happiness on your boyfriends face almost making you tear up as he all but hugged you to his frame. 

“I know we’re ready, baby.” He nodded, kissing you again as you both continued smiling like idiots. 

“Wait, how do we do this?” You asked, Jungkook furrowing his brows as he pondered your question.

“Huh. I don’t know.” He chuckled, you giggling along with him before sighing in thought. 

“Do we want to look for a new apartment altogether?” You wondered aloud, Jungkook bouncing his head back and forth in thought, hair moving with his head. 

“We could. Do you really want to leave here, though?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise when you shrugged in response, raising your hand to cup his cheek lovingly.

“I don’t care where I live as long as you’re with me. What about your place?” You offered, Jungkook mirroring your earlier response with a quirk of his shoulders up to his face. 

“You’re my home.” He put simply, laughing when your bottom lip jutted into a pout, pressing kisses over your face as your eyes filled with water out of pure adoration for the man. 

At the memory, you felt your eyes water again, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. Your boyfriend, wrinkling his nose at your expression, poked at your bottom lip, tutting his tongue at you.

“What happened to not caring where you lived as long as I’m with you?” He teased, squeezing your shoulder with a smile.

“I still feel that way, Kookie.” You assured him with a grin, taking his hand as he wiggled his fingers out to you.

“Good. We’re going to create so many more memories in our new home, I promise.” He said, baring his teeth to you again as he felt you squeeze your fingers around his hand.

“I know. I can’t wait to create more memories with you.” You sighed dreamily, leaning in for another chaste kiss on the man’s tempting pout. 

“So,” he leaned his forehead against yours, “are you feeling ready to leave now?” 

His words were soft, but they weren’t spoken with tentativeness. There was obvious excitement in his tone, an emotion that had you wanting to spring off your bay window and never look back. 

“Let’s go.” You smiled, coming to a stand as Jungkook remained seated, grinning at you in amusement at your sudden change in attitude about leaving this place. 

“Alright, boss.” 

With a grunt, he came to his feet, never letting go of your hand as you made your final stroll through the apartment together. 

Passing through the years’ worth of memories within the walls, you both took a silent few steps before pausing in the entryway, giving the place one last glance before meeting each others eyes with small, matching smiles.

Turning the handle to your front door for the last time, you let the latch slide closed like you had so many times before, tick-tick tacking as it came to a secure shut.

Shutting the door behind you, simultaneously opening a new one. 

[the-cult-of-russo]

No Going Back (part 2)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request : Hey love, can you please do a part 2 to “no going back” where the reader is with a new partner that treats them better and shows how happy y/n is (after a few months of heart break) & billy is upset and dealing with the aftermath of his actions - regret - or not being able to find someone like reader. I’m in the mood for sad!billy because my heart broke for myself in the last one lmfao, they could meet again with y/nS new partner idk go crazy babe!

A/N: Welcome to the Land of Pain. Enjoy the deep rooted sadness and heartache lmao why am I so invested in Sad!Billy? Like really, let me give him a hug or something 😂 this one kind of took on a life of its own and I couldn't help the comforting at the end lmao sue me.

Also, I keep the description of the new partner vague so you can imagine whoever you want. Personally I was thinking Charlie Hunnam because 👀🙃 but this way you can picture whoever. 

Warnings: cursing, some angst, heaps of sadness and despair (for Billy), very much Sad!Billy. Lil bit of fluff too

You never thought you'd find happiness, not after Billy. But sometimes you find things when you least expect it, or they find you. You'd spent months healing after what happened with Billy and at times you honestly thought the pain wouldn't stop. The saving grace was the fact Billy actually kept his distance and didn't contact you. At first you weren't sure if that hurt more or not. But the clean break allowed you to heal and you knew deep down that's why he did it. It had been hard knowing he loved you, that he wanted to fix things. If he had just been an asshole then it would have been easier to get over him. You could hate him. But you couldn't. Part of you would always belong to him but you had to move on. And you did. 

Jacob was a great guy and you'd met through a friend. He took you on dates, doted on you. He was there and he listened and he treated you amazingly. And for the first time since Billy, you hadn't compared Jacob to him. Previous dates were always measured up to Billy but when you met Jacob, you didn't even think about your past lover. 

You'd been with Jacob now for 4 months, it being half a year since the split with Billy. Everything was looking up for you and you finally felt like things were on the right track. You still thought about Billy sometimes. Wondered if he was okay, what he was up to. You couldn't help it. You just hoped one day he'd find happiness too. It hurt that he hadn't allowed that with you but you hoped he'd let it happen with someone one day. 

-------

Billy had experienced pain in all forms in his life. The pain of abandonment from his mother, from the shit in the group home, being in the marines and everything after. He'd always dealt with it. Picked himself back up and moved on. He got back up every time and was always stronger for it. But this time… this time he was weak and he couldn't do a damned thing about it. 

Losing you, all through his own bullshit fault, had been by far the worst thing he'd ever been through. The worst kind of pain. Being shot in the heart would hurt less than the agony and waking hell that had been his life since you begged him to leave your apartment 6 months ago. It felt like only 6 days ago yet 6 years at the same time. It was a never ending spiral of darkness and despair. 

And it was all his own fault. His inability to just be a normal fucking human with emotions had ruined the best thing he ever had. He deserved this pain. He deserved every bit of it. He'd done a lot of bad shit in his life but this was the worst. He couldn't get your face out of his head. How you looked at him with such betrayal and hurt. And he'd caused that. He'd caused those tears to stream down your face, he'd caused that pain. So he'd wallow in his misery and take every inch of pain he was in because he deserved it all. 

He'd thrown it all away, and for what? The sex with the other women hadn't even been good. He hadn't enjoyed it because it wasn't you. And then after, the guilt would eat him alive. But he kept doing it. He couldn't stop himself because he was overwhelmed. He loved you. He actually fucking loved you and he didn't deserve you at all. He never thought he'd love anyone. Didn't think he was capable of such a thing, yet here he was. And he never thought in a million years that anyone would ever love him. His own mother didn't, so why would anyone else? He kept replaying over and over when you told him you loved him that day. The pain had ripped through him like C4. He'd fucked up so badly and he couldn't fix it. He'd finally had a taste of what it was like to be loved and to love someone and it was snatched away in a heartbeat because of his own actions. 

He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. He lost some weight and was well aware of the dark circles around his eyes. He'd taken to drinking every night just to numb the pain and hope your face didn't haunt his dreams. He hadn't even slept with another person since. He couldn't bring himself to. He was a mess. All he wanted was you and he couldn't have you. 

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You and Jacob were on your way to a little cafe you frequented for lunch. You felt happy, radiant even as you both walked hand in hand. The weather was warming up and the sun bathed you in its warm glow as you walked. Everything felt right. Just as you got to the outside of the cafe, his phone rang. 

"Shit, I need to take this, babe," he sighed. You smiled up at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"It's okay. I'll see what they have today," you smiled. He gave you a wide smile, kissing you softly before he stepped away a bit to answer the phone. There was no anxiety. No wondering who he was talking to. You felt settled and content. 

You glanced through the window of the cafe where they displayed fresh baked sweet treats. They had different ones every day and you pressed up against the window, eyes glancing around as you tried to decide if you wanted a glazed donut or a cinnamon bun. Probably the donut.

"Y/N?" The shocked voice felt like a splash of cold water. You knew that voice anywhere. You turned around to see Billy, wide eyed as he stared at you. He looked… oh Billy. Your heart ached at the state of him. He was still in his fancy suit with his hair neat and slicked back. But he looked exhausted, his dark eyes sad. It hurt.

"Hey, Billy," you murmured with a soft smile. You thought about what it would be like if you saw him again. You thought it would bring all the pain back. The anger. But you were hurting for a different reason. You were hurting for him this time. 

He glanced at the floor, looking somewhat out of place and his usual confidence seemed to be left at home. When he glanced back up at you, looking at you through his lashes, he looked like a lost boy. 

"You look good," he said quietly. You smiled sadly, shifting where you stood. 

"You look tired," you countered softly. He chuckled, the noise hollow sounding and you'd be a liar if you said you didn't miss him. Part of you wondered if you could have stayed friends but you didn't think it would help.

"Yeah, I'm uh… not sleepin' so good," he shrugged like it was nothing and you frowned. 

"Billy-" you started, only to be cut off by Jacob coming back over and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

"Sorry, I'm done now," he smiled down at you, kissing your cheek. It wasn't done as a display of possessiveness like Billy would have. It was simply affection. But you saw how Billy's jaw clenched, eyes hardening as he looked at him.

"Uh… Jacob, this is Billy. Billy, this is Jacob," you said carefully. You didn't need to say that Jacob was your boyfriend. It was obvious and you didn't want to rub salt in Billy's wounds. Jacob's brows raised a little, arm moving from around you as he looked at Billy. 

"Oh. It's a pleasure to meet you, I've heard a lot about you," Jacob said amicably as he extended his hand. Billy glanced at it like it was a poisonous snake before glancing at you. You gave him an imploring look and he swallowed thickly before shaking Jacob's hand. 

"Nothin' good, I bet,'' Billy smiled bitterly. Ouch. That hurt. 

Jacob looked at Billy hesitantly with a small smile. 

"Actually… Y/N had nothing but good things to say about you. Except for how it all ended but… there were a lot of good things," Jacob said softly. It made you smile. You'd told him everything about you and Billy and he'd never seen it as an issue. And the fact he was trying here really meant something to you.

Billy looked taken aback for a moment before his face schooled back to the mask of indifference he'd wear often. He glanced at you then at Jacob again as Jacob gave your hand a squeeze.

"I'll get us a table and give you two a minute," Jacob murmured to you. It wasn't lost on you how he purposely didn't kiss you like he normally would. He wasn't petty. He wouldn't hurt Billy or rub it in his face. 

Once Jacob was inside you looked at Billy as he glared off to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

"Billy… I'm sorry, I…" you frowned. You wished he hadn't found out this way. Not when you saw how badly he was hurting. He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head.

"Don't … Don't do that," he bit out. 

"Do what?" You asked with a frown. His obsidian eyes turned to you then, full of such pain and sadness that it felt like you'd been punched in the gut.

"Don't… apologise to me. I don't deserve shit," he muttered, jaw clenched. 

You took a step closer to him and he looked down at you, rolling his shoulder a little. 

"Look… you fucked up. It happened. But I don't … I don't hate you, okay? I never could. I don't want to see you hurting like this," you lamented. His lower lip wobbled a little before he clamped down on it with his teeth, glaring at the floor with glassy eyes. 

"You should hate me," he replied tensely. 

"Well I don't. I forgive you. I don't know if that's helps or anything but… you need to forgive yourself, Billy," you said as you moved closer, looking up at him. His eyes met yours for a moment before he looked away. 

He was so tense, hands in his pockets as his shoulders were set and his body was rigid. 

"Does he uh… he treat you good?" He asked, voice strained as his eyes drifted to the window of the cafe before back to you. You nodded, worried if you vocalised it that it might hurt him more. He scrunched his nose a little, his shoulder rolling again.

"He make you happy?" He asked quietly. It sounded like it brought him great pain to even ask and you looked away with a sigh.

"Billy…" you frowned, not wanting to answer. 

"Just… please. Does he make you happy?" He asked again, a little firmer this time. You met his eyes as you nodded. 

His jaw ticked as he nodded stiffly, glaring off to the side.

"Good… good, you deserve to be happy," he muttered softly. 

"So do you," you replied sincerely. Black eyes snapped to yours then as he scoffed. He opened his mouth to no doubt say something fueled by self hatred but you spoke before he had the chance. 

"I'm serious. I want you to be happy, Billy. You need to allow yourself to feel things and one day you'll get that. You'll find happiness one day," you implored.

He blinked at you for a moment, his eyes shining from moisture.

"I want that with you. And I know… I know I can't. I know we can't fix this. But I just… I don't think I could find that with someone else," he admitted softly. He looked so sad and it was wounding you. You hated seeing him so vulnerable and lost like this. It was so far from the Billy you knew and loved. This Billy was the Billy that woke from nightmares about the group home or from when he was overseas. The Billy you'd comforted many times before. It always hurt you when this side of him was out. 

"There'll always be a part of my heart with your name on it, Billy. I'm sorry it didn't work out but it doesn't mean I don't care at all," you breathed. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath at your words. 

"This… this is why I never deserved you. You're too good for me, too kind and… caring. I don't deserve somethin' precious like you. I don't deserve anythin' good," he muttered bitterly. You knew this spiral well. How he got in his own head and went down the rabbit hole of hating himself. 

You took another step towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You just wanted him to be okay. To stop hurting. He may have hurt you, broke your heart, but you didn't want this for him. You wanted to comfort him and this was the only way you knew how. You felt his arms wrap around you, one fisting your shirt and the other in your hair as he held you close. He buried his nose in your hair and inhaled deeply. 

"Stop hating yourself. Do it for me. I hate seeing you like this," you whispered forlornly as you held onto him tightly. 

His hand in your hair tightened a little and you could feel a slight tremor running through his body. 

"I'm a mess without you," he lamented, slightly muffled by your hair. 

"You need to allow yourself to move on," you replied softly. You went to move away but his arms tightened and you allowed him to hold you a moment longer. He'd called you his anchor once. You hadn't really believed him but now it seemed like he was floating away and you were the only thing tethering him here. 

He pressed a kiss to your hair before releasing you but you didn't step back too far as you blinked up at him. 

"Maybe we… maybe we can…" he trailed off uncertainly and your chest constricted painfully. You really hoped he wasn't going to ask for another chance because shooting him down in the state he was in would kill you. 

"I wanna… could we be friends? I won't… I won't get in the way or anythin', I just… maybe if I could text you sometimes? Just to know you're okay?" He asked hesitantly as his dark orbs flit to the window of the cafe before back to you.

You weren't sure if it was a great idea. You didn't know if it would help if you were honest.

"Billy… I don't know if that's a good idea," you murmured sadly. His eyes bore into you, pleading and desperate.

"Please? I know that I-I can't have you. Not the way I want. But I need you in my life, even just as a friend. You not bein' there at all… it's left a gaping hole and I…" his hand went to his chest, rubbing over where his heart was. 

"Okay, you can text me if you need me. But only as friends," you relented, stating the last part firmly. A small smile graced his face then, eyes lighting up ever so slowly. You hoped this wouldn't be a bad idea. 

"I appreciate it. And… as much as it hurts… to see you with… Jacob. I am happy for you," he said Jacob's name like it pained him but his eyes were sincere as he looked at you. It made you smile a little. 

"Thank you, Billy," you murmured. He gave you another small hesitant smile as he nodded.

"I'll uh… let you get back," he said with a nod. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him again, around his middle this time as your head rested on his chest. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you tightly. His hand going to your hair like it always did. You could hear the rapid thumping of his heart in your ear. 

"It was good seeing you," you said softly. You meant it too. 

You always thought it would be difficult seeing him again, and it was in a way. It hurt seeing him this cut up about it. But it wasn't how you imagined it would go. You weren't angry at him, you didn't feel the same pain you did on that day. The only pain you felt was for the broken man in holding you. You wanted to comfort him and you'd missed him. He'd been a constant in your life for a while, even before you officially got together. 

"It was good seein' you too," he sighed, squeezing you a little. When you stepped back, he gripped your face and for a moment it startled you. But he planted a firm kiss to your forehead before stepping back. Once again, you allowed him that. You couldn't help it. 

You gave him a soft smile and he returned it with a sad one of his own. You forced your feet to move as you made your way into the cafe. Jacob was sitting there patiently waiting at a table with a coffee and a donut waiting for you. You grinned at him as you sat down and he leaned over to kiss your cheek.

"Everything okay?" He asked softly, stroking your cheek.

"Yeah," you sighed. You really hoped Billy would forgive himself for everything that happened. He didn't need to punish himself like this. 

"Good… he'll get over it one day. Just give him some time, babe," Jacob murmured as if he knew what you were thinking. You gave him a warm smile as you laced your fingers with his. 

You hoped he was right. You hoped that being friends with Billy would work and maybe help him. You still weren't sure if it was a good idea or not but he seemed adamant it would help him. It was hardly how you ever imagined it would go but it was how the cards fell. All you could do was wait and see what happened and hope that maybe you could help Billy through it. It was kind of upside down and all ass upwards. Helping the man that broke your heart get over you. But you still cared about him and you'd do whatever you could to help him through it.  

[thesupersaiyanprincess]

So yeah, here we go again, a highly slightly revised version of Splits' Chapter 1

It's set in some kinda AU where you're a saiyan and there are other saiyans alive and on earth, as if more than just Gokus parents sent them off to earth as babies to start a better life not just to destroy it. Perhaps part of the resistance against Frieza?

I'm expecting this to top out at like 10 ish chapters, if anything probably less, i don't want it to stray to far from the plot or spend another 6 months on it lmao

Warnings include: violence, emotional abuse, very dark Vegeta, sexual themes, choking but not in a good way

Word count: ~1,600

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                      Chapter 1                      

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You’re sitting in the living room, bored, surfing the channels on the TV when you hear the front door click. Your face lights up at the sound that you know means your boyfriend is home, and you run to the hallway to greet him. 

“Hey 'Geta,” you say with a smile as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You know he hates it when you’re cutesy like that, but you like riling him up. Little did you know, today was not the day for it.

“Get off of me, woman.” Vegeta shoved you away from him harshly and made his way to the bathroom after taking off his shoes at the door, he didn’t even look at you as he barged his way down the hall. There was definitely something wrong, even if he didn’t like kisses he never reacted like that. Something was up, and today you were feeling especially brave so you decided to follow him down the hall and grab his tail. Bad move. He swung around in an instant pinning you by your throat to the wall.

“Don’t. Touch me.” he said with a growl in his voice before throwing you to the ground and continuing down the hall. 

“'Geta that hurt, what’s the deal with you today Mr. grumpy pants?” you said in a huff as you picked yourself up from the ground, patting down your jeans. “I thought we talked about this; no aggressive wall pinning unless I ask for it.” He didn't stop or turn around to look at you. “Oh, so you're just going to ignore me then, that's great, I guess I'll just go back to watching TV since you’re being a big grump.” you waited a second longer to see if you'd get a reaction, but no, he just kept walking and eventually made his way to the bathroom, locking himself inside as you walked back to the living room.

You wondered what could've happened today to make him so irritable. When he left this morning he wasn't mad, so something must've happened while he was out training with Goku. Maybe Goku reached a new form and Vegeta was jealous? No, that's happened before and all he did was rant about how it should be him who gets to unlock new forms, not that stupid, low class, pathetic excuse of a Saiyan, Kakarot. He was the prince of all Saiyans after all, and he should be the one with all the power. No, this was something else entirely, and you were starting to worry what could have made the mighty Vegeta so angry. 

Against your better judgement, you decide to go knock on the bathroom door. “Vegeta! Open up! What's the matter?” you shout through the door, hoping he can hear you over the running water of the shower.

“Go away! Go make yourself useful and cook me something, woman” of course that's all he would say. Damn these Saiyans and their insatiable appetites. 

“No, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re mad.” you plant your feet outside the door as you hear the water shut off. After a moment he unlocks and opens the door with a towel around his waist. He always looked so good right after a shower, silky hair wet, tangles framing his face, water droplets glistening across his gorgeously broad Saiyan chest. He truly was a sight to behold. 

“Get out of my way” he said to you as he tried to emerge from the bathroom, you were blocking his way and he really didn't like that. “Move now, or I’ll move you myself.”

“And what if I don't, what’re you going to do to me?” you said with a smirk on your lips as you stared seductively into his eyes. Usually when he was mad you could make him forget about it for a while with sex. Today was different however, and instead of pinning you to the wall and devouring your mouth with his, he gave a blow straight to your stomach, instantly knocking the wind out of you and making you crumple to the floor. He stepped over you and headed to the bedroom to get dressed. 

“Food woman. Now. Don’t give me more reason to be mad at you.” he called over his shoulder as he entered the bedroom. As you were curled up on the floor, clutching your stomach and gasping for air to finally reach your lungs, you couldn’t help the thought that maybe he didn’t love you anymore from crossing your mind. A thought that threatened to bring tears to your eyes. But you were stronger than that. You stood up shakily clutching your stomach for a moment before straightening up and walking after him into the bedroom.

“What the fuck 'Geta!? What's wrong with you? Why’d you punch me in the gut like that!?” you yell at him with an anger that made the air crackle with energy. “I thought you loved me 'Geta! How could you hurt me like that? What did I ever do to you?” You hated to admit it, but you're an angry crier, and the hot tears came spilling from your eyes as your hair flickered flecks of blond. Even though you had reached Super Saiyan form yourself, Vegeta was still 100x stronger than you on a good day, let alone when he was angry.

He ignored you completely, dropping his towel and putting on a fresh pair of briefs. He acted like you weren’t even there at all actually as he picked out some clothes to wear. Taking his time to sift through his messy chest of drawers to find his favourite shirt. Black and skin tight with Shenron and the DragonBalls printed on the back, it hugged his muscles in all the right places. It was your favourite on him too and for a split second you forgot your anger and stared at how the fabric clung to his still dewy skin. It all came flooding back when he turned to face you.

“Did you not hear me? I said food. Now.” he snarled through gritted teeth. He hated it when you didn't follow his commands, but right now he wasn't your master, and it was so not sexy of him to treat you like this. 

“If you want food you'll have to make it yourself. I'm not cooking for you until you tell me what's wrong.” you say back to him, with the same amount of force, trying to make your voice sound as demanding as his to no avail. No matter how hard you try, you'll never get his aggressive tone of voice down pat, you just sound like a pissed off chew toy and it makes you even angrier. 

“Whatever.” He grumbles just loud enough for you to hear as he continued to search for some pants. 

“Whatever?! That's all you're going to say?” you yell as you stare at him in disbelief, one more dismissive or demanding word from him and you were going to snap. “What about an apology? For shoving me, then throwing me, then straight up punching me!? Are you even listening to me, Vegeta?” You pause for a long second to see if he’ll say anything, and when he pulls up his pants and heads for the door, that's it. You power up to Super Saiyan and block the doorway, glaring at Vegeta, daring him to step closer. 

“Silly woman. You think that just because you're a Super Saiyan, you can stop me? How pathetic.” he said, his voice hollow and cold as he goes Super Saiyan Blue and picks you up with one hand by the throat and holds you off the ground. “You couldn't stop me with both my hands tied behind my back,” he sneered at you before throwing you into the wall outside the bedroom door, almost knocking you unconscious as your head hit the wall at full force, leaving the plaster cracked. Your energy faded and your hair returned to its regular dark colour as your vision blurred and your ears rang from the impact. 

He walked over to stand above you, laughing menacingly. “You're weak and pathetic. The only reason I kept you around was so that you'd cook and clean for me. Oh, and so that I can fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” The edges of your vision started to go dark as he picked you up against the wall by your throat again. “You are nothing but a toy for me, a sorry excuse for a Saiyan. So low class I wouldn't let you shine my shoes with your spit. But you cook good and don’t complain whenever I want to fuck, so you’re not completely useless.” he squeezed your throat tighter, “I want you to know that I don’t want you anymore. I never loved you, not one bit. I was only using you for my own satisfaction. And now that I don’t want you, there's no reason for you to keep breathing.” as he said this, he was gradually squeezing your throat tighter in his grip. You didn't understand what was going on, Vegeta had never been what you'd call affectionate, but he was never so mean. The Vegeta you love would never say such harsh things to you, or hurt you in any way what so ever unless you were fucking and asked for it. In fact, he put several higher ranking Saiyan's in the med pods because they were antagonizing you for being the weakest Super Saiyan. The sudden change in him had tears pouring from your eyes as you tried harder to keep from passing out. “Now be a good little weakling and go to sleep for me.”

“'Geta… p-please… d-don’t… hurt… m-m…” You managed to spit out between desperate gasps as you faded from consciousness. 

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So whatcha think? Please leave comments and likes, I'll also be posting this over on my AO3 when i can figure that out haha

Always remember, reblogs>likes <3

[bunni-bino]

Hi-yo💙 hope your having a great day/night i was wondering if i could request Zoro with a female reader confessed to him but he says no cause he want to focus on finishing his dream first.

You could end it how you want to i wont mind

Zoro Rejecting A Confession For His Dream

A/N : ;-; my heart hurts. Too angsty for me, especially it being Zoro too? God. 💚😖 thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy.

note : I fucking loved this when I finished.

Summary : Zoro receives a confession. He rejects it to pursue his dream. However..

-

“I’m sorry, but I can’t return your feelings.”

You feel yourself forcing a weak smile onto your face as you nodded once at him, already understanding his rejection towards you.

You had just finished your confession to him, standing in front of him on the hill with the cherry blossom tree in center, it’s petals falling down on the both of you.

“That’s what I expected..” You mumble before seeing his brow raised and him about to speak. You quickly waved your hands to dismiss it.

“I-I mean, I just understand is all, I can’t force you to reciprocate my feelings or anything, you have your own choice!” You restated, offering a better smile to the swordsman.

Skeptical, Zoro just sighs softly and brought a hand to his hip, gliding over the hilt of his swords as he did so.

“I’m sorry, [Name]. I made a promise that I’ll be the world’s greatest swordsman, and I can’t have anything hold me back.” He firmly states, hands at his sides as he stares at you, waiting for your reaction.

You only smile softer and nod at him, which surprised him a bit. He didn’t think you would understand nor take his rejection so well.

“Of course. You have a dream and I don’t want to be in the way of that. If that’s what you wish, then I’ll support you from the sidelines.” You genuinely spoke, placing a hand on your chest as you smile warmly at him.

You couldn’t do anything but smile at him with closed eyes, ignoring the aching in your heart as your heart strings tightened inside.

Clutching your shirt a bit, you hoped to ease the pain that was building up as you tried to keep the smile on and prevent the tears from falling. You weren’t going to show weakness now, not in front of Zoro especially.

Zoro’s expression softens when he sees your forced smile, your eyes hiding the small, pained and hurtful look in them and small tears that were forming.

He already had an idea of your feelings, yet he never said a word. Only continuing to be close with you and enjoying time with you up until your confession to him just now.

He feels regret building up in him, aching his chest at the sight of you trying to stay strong for him. It made him sad and hurt but he couldn’t give up his dream now. Not when he was nearing the end of his goal. Even if he still had much to learn.

Looking down a bit, he bit his lip and exhales quietly.

“Thank you.. and.. I’m sorry.” He repeats gently, looking away and brought a hand up to his neck, rubbing it a bit. He wasn’t sure what to say anymore.

Honestly, if he wasn’t so focused on his dream, he most likely would have accepted your confession. He noticed he had some small feelings bubbling up inside him too, but he always suppressed it down.

He felt weird around you and knew it was feelings but if he let his emotions get the best of him, he would never get the title of world’s greatest swordsman.

“It’s okay, really, Zoro. Don’t apologize for having a dream. Don’t apologize for having a goal in life. You’re doing everything to achieve it, and I love you for that.”

Glancing to you, he saw the small tear drop falling down your cheek as you quickly wiped it away and continued to have a smile on your face.

His eyes widens slightly as he ignored his gut punching him inside, telling him to ignore his dream and take you into his arms right now.

“Though.. Can I ask you one favor?”

Zoro brings his hand down from his neck and furrows his brows slightly. “What is it?”

You smile softly and shake your head to shake off your nerves and look straight at Zoro.

“Can I kiss you?”

Zoro widens his eyes, taken back by your question. “H-Hah?” You shyly chuckle and rub the back of your neck.

“Can I kiss you once? Then we can forget about everything. I know.. it’s a weird request but, before I have to force myself to move on away from my feelings towards you, I.. I want to feel your lips on mine just once, if that’s okay?”

Zoro felt his cheeks warming a bit, unexpected of your question as he just exhales and scratches the back of his head. “..Fine, if that’s what it’s going to take..”

You smile in relief and bowed your head. “Thank you, it’ll be quick and simple.”

With that, you step closer to him and hesitantly reach your hands up to cup his cheeks.

Zoro stares with his usual expression as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close, it feeling comfortable and warm to be in such a position.

You stare into his eyes and ask softly. “..are you sure it’s okay?” You wanted his full permission before you did so.

Zoro rolls his eyes and then closed them, bringing a hand to cup your cheek and pulled your face towards his, and immediately locked lips together.

You instantly melted into the kiss, shutting your eyes as you kissed him back softly, counting in your head for one second, before trying to pull away.

But you couldn’t.

Zoro was holding you close, pulling your head and keeping you there, as he tilts his own and deepens the kiss.

It just felt so right.. as if you two had kissed a thousand times before.

Zoro opens his eyes to look at you as he kissed you, staring at your face relaxing in his touch and felt as the kiss became more passionate.

The petals of the cherry blossoms were landing around you two as you kissed.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was nearly a minute, Zoro let go of you and allowed you to pull away.

“Z-Zoro, I-“

“Shut up.”

In a split second, Zoro grabbed your wrists and pulled it towards him, staring down at you with his eye. He was dead serious right now.

“Wait for me.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “What?-“

“Wait until I become the world’s greatest swordsman. It won’t be long. Until then, wait for me and I’ll be yours. You hear me?”

You could feel your heartbeat starting to pick up at his words, mixed emotions running through you. “W-Wait?! So you mean-“

“Yes. I accept your feelings. I love you. But I’m not going to be yours until I achieve my goal. Until then, you better stay single until it’s time for you to be mine.”

Seeing how serious he was, Zoro’s lips formed a smirk as he stares at you. “Got it?”

Speechless, you could only just nod slowly, mouth gaped at him. “O-Okay..”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for the day those lips meet mine once more.”

And the cherry blossom petals swayed as they fell gracefully, on both of your heads and dropped down to the ground around you.

The start of a blossoming relationship.

-

A/N : AAAAAAAHHHHH I LOVE THIS A LOT ACTUALLYYY!! 💚😍🥰 I hope you did too!! :D

Y’all really thought I was going to make it end angsty? You got me messed up-

[baobaojng]

when icarus falls (jung jaehyun) - act two (final)

when icarus falls - act one, half time interval, act two

jung yoonoh (jaehyun) x reader - college athlete!au , crush!au

themes: angst, fluff, (super tiny tiny tiny implied smut)

reminders: YOU HAVE TO READ THE HALF TIME INTERVAL BEFORE YOU PROCEED TO THIS PART!!

summary: some tragic story of you sharing one class with your long time college crush jaehyun who never notices you until he accidentally reads your work and he gets curious— oh, and he uses lame excuses to get to talk to you.

note: AAAAA here we finally are! thank you so much for the kind words and the support y’all gave during the entire process of this fic, i’m so grateful! hope to see you guys read my fics in the future! from here, this has been ‘when icarus falls,’ thank you.

wordcount: 15,375

>

Chittaphon and Doyoung did not ask any questions when you asked them to drive you home, but since you spilt your own feelings to them - they already knew that something bad happened between you and Jaehyun. You were silently holding sobs in the backseat, not even wanting to make any semblance of a sniffle, but it caused more pain to your windpipe that felt like it was swelling. When they reached your apartment an hour and a half later you immediately got out the car, wanting to vomit on the sidewalk. Although you knew that what had happened with Jaehyun punched the sobriety back into your senses, your body seemed to protest otherwise.

“I’m so fucked.” You managed to say in between breaths, your mouth tasted like acid. You hated yourself for ever drinking and for ever setting foot in that place, your two friends worried behind you - Chittaphon having to pull your hair back. And then you cried in full volume, like putting yourself on mute pented up even more of your emotions. They didn’t know how to respond, but you couldn’t blame them for that. There was always an assumption that they would never really understand you even if you told them how you felt, and they really wouldn’t. In fact, at this point, not a soul could understand what you felt for Jung Jaehyun.

They don’t walk you inside your apartment; you assured them that despite your puffed up face and the strained feeling of your throat that you could make it to bed safely. It did not feel like the right time to be coddled by your friends. You just wanted to be alone.

Buzzing sounds were coming from your phone, and Jaehyun’s contact photo was flashing across the screen. Your eyes squinted at the light, but it hurt more knowing that he was trying.

Jaehyunnie: let’s talk (3:04am)

Even in text, it seems, you’ve rubbed off of each other; he even typed the way you did already.

Jaehyunnie: please (3:05am)

Jaehyunnie: just answer me, please (3:05am)

Jaehyunnie: y/n please (3:06am)

Tears dripped out of your eyes continuously, it was going to be hard trying to fall asleep.

-

Jung Jaehyun’s number was officially blocked on your phone. For hours you tried convincing yourself that this seriously wasn’t chickening out - this was more about you knowing that there wasn’t going to be good conversation about what had happened, plus your ego would not want to be compromised by immediately jumping at his request of talking. Your emotions needed to mature a little bit more, and until when you didn’t know. Space was needed and even more so the time for you to really think things over. For once you did not allow yourself to point fingers at the alcohol or the circumstances of that night; it was meant to happen then anyway. The world was cruel in so many different senses that it reminded you that you couldn’t uphold the friendship you established with Jaehyun. It had to end the same way it started: where your world crashed down around the idea of your feelings for him.

When Monday rolled around, it took a lot of guts deciding whether or not you were going to end up going to your Literature class, but you painfully forced Chittaphon to vacate his seat next to Jaehyun and sit next to you - afraid that you would have no form of protection if Jaehyun were to try and approach you in class.

“You’re about to drill a hole through the floor with your foot if you keep on thumping it up and down like that.” Chittaphon commented, all while you didn’t notice how nervous your body was reacting.

“Drill a hole through my head, won’t you? I seriously don’t want to be here.” You agonized in your seat, covered in about three layers of clothing in an effort to make yourself believe that it would be a good disguise against Jaehyun. Maybe, just maybe, he would flat out forget you existed if he could not see you in the mounds of sweaters you tried to concoct this morning. It was some delusion wanting for him to not notice you and for you to run away from this with no feelings at all.

Chittaphon seemed a little sad for you, the downwards slope his lips were going to was enough of a sign anyway. “Cheer up, won’t you? If he did the wrong thing at the wrong time and you know you were wronged somehow, shouldn’t he be the one to suffer like this? It’s really Jaehyun’s loss, not your’s.”

The comment was a little too soon to make, especially when Brianna Chang wrapped herself around Jung Jaehyun’s arm like jewelry as they walked in Literature at the same time. She sat down where Chittaphon normally sat, and Jaehyun didn’t seem like he even noticed that his friend wasn’t sitting there. She did not even take this class, but to be fair it wasn’t even twenty minutes till the class started.

Suddenly you regretted the layers of clothing you wore; they felt like a boiling prison chamber.

When Brianna Chang (very loudly) laughed at something Jaehyun had said and placed her hand on his forearm, it sent an echoing pang into your chest. So this is what it felt like looking at him from afar, lest you forget where you were before the two of you had become close. This is how it felt like seeing him not care about everybody else because he could hang out with whomever he wanted despite the dirty looks thrown his way. Quite literally, this is how it felt like taking the backseat. And when Brianna Chang left five minutes before the professor’s arrival, Jaehyun walking her to the door, his eyes searched for yours. Only a split second of surrender occurred until you stripped yourself away from his gaze; you weren’t playing this game.

Jaehyun looked like he didn’t care anyway, and it hurt more to know that he just looked at you and walked back to his seat. You expected him to carry on his efforts at trying to talk to you, but you should have known that he wasn’t one to prolong things.

This was foul two, the first he committed that night on the beach.

Maybe you were just that disposable.

You finally decided to answer Chitapphon who looked just as puzzled as how you felt. Unfortunate how he was debunked so quickly. “You were saying?”

-

Dinner became an issue you thought you would never think about. It seemed that you’ve grown so used to having Jaehyun ask you to dinner everyday, him waiting for you by the tree you claimed in the quad. Now it was just straight walks back to your apartment alone, not realizing you needed the evening sustenance until your stomach started growling while you were trying your best to distract yourself with all the reading requirements you were digesting in advance. Maybe it was metaphorical for how you were trying to avoid Jaehyun, you could only go in for so long before realizing how much you needed him now. The harder you tried to avoid him physically, everything else would remind you that you couldn’t forget him or dodge the idea of him. It was diabolical how you were so used to this routine before you became friends with Jaehyun, only for it to be hijacked now because you built most of your time around him.

A video call request from Lisa chimed in, you suddenly had to dig through the multiple pages of books that buried your phone. Right, there was a mixer she was trying to invite you to but you declined. You answered her call anyway.

“Hey.” You spoke to the pixelated mess on your phone the audio already chiming in, mashed up sounds of music and other people.

“Y/N! Are you sure you aren’t free tonight?” She said, the lighting over on her side a little bit weird, but the signal came in better and you could see her clearly.

You switched your camera to show her your table, “yeah I’m sure, I have to write about Persephone tonight.”

“Oh, I thought Jaehyun would be keeping you preoccupied.” You loved your friend but you did not have half the heart to admit to her what happened, you knew she’d find a way to try to get you to talk to him and you were not yet capable of doing that.

“Nope, just me.” You reminded her, switching back to front camera.

“Yeah actually never mind,” Lisa said, this confusing you. She quickly switched her camera this time and zoomed in to someone. “Jaehyun’s right here partying too!” She remarked, and now you could make out the figure she was trying to capture on camera.

It was Brianna, her perfectly colored hair indicating it was her, and Jaehyun dancing on each other among a small crowd.

Suddenly, you did not want to eat. You had no appetite at all.

Foul three.

-

It was quite odd for Johnny Seo and Mark Lee to ask you to hang out with them after class. Not that they were difficult to be around, they were actually really fun guys - except you never really got super close with them. They were probably the closest ones to Jaehyun if you were to make estimates.

“I made a class outline for you so you wouldn’t pass up on getting some chow with us at the very last minute.” Johnny handed you a neatly written reviewer; he probably took some of the same units during his pre-law.

“And I’m here too so you probably can’t resist me and my fun charms.” Mark announced.

You could very easily try and pretend to match their energy, but you would be lying if you did and that on its own wasn’t fair. It was half true that you would pass up on hanging out with them (also because Johnny was one of the key people during the beach party), but only because they reminded you so much of Jaehyun— too much of him to rub off on every single thing and make your mind go back to him.

So you just smile and take the outlined paper and nod along, silently telling them that you were down to go wherever they wanted to.

Now, their idea of a fun time was to go to an Ikea to have food and look at furniture. You didn’t expect it from two goofballs who seemed to probably have zero knowledge on home care, but they proved you wrong.

There was no real idea when they asked you to hang out with them; you originally thought that when they walked up to you, they’d immediately allude to wanting to know about why you and Jaehyun weren’t hanging out as much and why you didn’t go to their practice for the past two sessions. Chittaphon and Doyoung had promised that they wouldn’t tell any other soul about the incident at the beach, and of course anything related to the feelings your harbored for their team captain. Instead they just went up to you out of the blue and told you they wanted to go out.

It would have been way too optimistic for you to expect that they wouldn’t brush on the topic either.

“So,” Mark said with a mouthful of meatballs, “why don’t we see you around much?” He asks cautiously.

“What do you mean? We see each other in school all the time though.” You try to be passive about it, because you very much know what he is hinting at.

“Why don’t we see you around much with Jaehyun then.” Johnny clarifies, and you nod once as you put away the drink you were holding.

The expression on your face is blank, and you realize now that you’ve mastered using it to really avoid how you felt inside. “You two really have no clue, do you?”

A ‘pft’ sound escapes Johnny’s lips, “of course we know something, but it would only be fair if we asked you. Especially when Jaehyun’s been whoring around trying to fool himself into believing he likes what he’s doing.”

“Let’s all just let him be. Besides, I’m sure there’s a reason for what he’s doing and maybe we think he’s unhappy because we don’t like his choices. If we all regard him the way we really do, then we should respect him and whatever he does, right? I’m respecting him by keeping my distance.” You shrug, maybe you had to leave it alone; you had no fighting chance.

“Don’t you think it’s worth trying getting through to him though?” Mark asked you with hopeful eyes.

Your nose crunched into different creases, “see, I blew him off way too many times for that to be possible. I don’t think he’ll want me to talk to him anymore either.” No, you wanted to talk to him for sure. You were just so scared of being confronted with the truth: you crossed lines that should not have been crossed. “Besides, it’s enough that I’ve liked him for as long as I have. And way too much that I was the one that messed it all up too, I should leave it alone.”

“If you say so, then I won’t force it. You’re your own boss.” Johnny respectfully said in defeat.

Walking around looking for blankets, the three of you caught up on how you all were. Your mind could not pin together how they had some sort of idea of what happened - maybe Doyoung and Chittaphon did snitch on you or worse, Jaehyun could have told them something. In that case, you wouldn’t know what he had said or what he had conjured up.

It should not have surprised you when you saw Jaehyun with Brianna, him whispering something a little too close into her ear. He was holding a basketful of home items. ‘Wow,’ you thought, they were going domestic now.

You were caught stuck in your tracks upon seeing it, and thankfully Johnny was behind you so you were able to lean on someone and not fall from losing your balance.

“Out of all the damn days he could have gone to go out and out of all the damn places.” Johnny huffed under his breath, but instead you tried to set him back into a calm mood by tapping at his shoulders with your palms.

“It’s alright Johnny.” You assured as Mark kind of just stood there to awkwardly assess the situation at hand.

“I don’t think it is.” Mark spoke and you noticed that Jaehyun had spotted the three of you. It felt like the first time you ever laid eyes on him, but the great feeling didn’t last long— certainly not lasting as long enough as you would have liked.

“Hey.” Johnny stepped out to pretend to be glad to see his friend, you noticed Jaehyun trying to make his way closer to all of you with Brianne just trailing behind him.

With the basket of duvets the three of you had selected earlier, you tapped at Mark to signal him to follow you away from this running into each other incident.

Had Jung Jaehyun the nerve to ruin Ikea for you, fucking Ikea.

Foul fucking four.

-

Jaehyun made you sick, he was some ritual that you embedded deeper in than the dermis of your skin - every single thing reminded you of him, even if they weren’t memories you shared together. It seemed that every single thing that had attached nostalgia to it had a little bit of Jaehyun. That’s why you decided that you were willing to forego your common routine in order to avoid even the slightest idea of him. He was like salt that degraded the metal away from you; it hurt even hearing the syllables of his name.

Doyoung usually accompanied you to your trips to the common lounge in school, as you insisted that you felt uncomfortable with the idea of being alone in public in some way. He happily agreed to being your study buddy, wanting to catch up on learning from you because apparently it was easier.

There had to be some way for you to simply avoid and adjust: the measures being taken to the extreme when you figured out that maybe now you took a better liking at Mediterranean food because you never ate any with Jaehyun, you did not take walks by the same route going back to your apartment— hell, you didn’t even want to hang around your living space because everything that used to be so organized was all messed up the way Jaehyun had left them. It felt like you were evacuating the storm that he was, and it was devastating.

For a while you were able to successfully carry out this goal by snubbing him in any sense that you could. Except, you had to admit that it left a pit open in your stomach each time you saw his back during Literature. Sometimes you could tell you were shaking from the wrist to your fingertips just because he made you wary.

Your success did not last long, like any other attempt at trying to avoid him.

He committed foul five when he entered the common lounge with Brianna, seeming to hold matching paper cups of coffee - distracting you from your productivity.

Jung Jaehyun never used to step foot here in all the years you’ve liked him, and even now he was getting in the way of your routine.

-

Four grown men had to convince you that the only way for you to get over whatever it was you were feeling was to flat out face it and try your best not to care. ‘Try your best,’ still did imply that you did. It implied that Jung Jaehyun still had some effect on you. Although you were still trying to convince Johnny, Mark, Doyoung and Chittaphon that you were fine with ‘leaving it alone,’ they could see right through you.

“You’re beating yourself up about him.” Chittaphon warned when the four of them practically barged into your apartment one afternoon. It was an argument you couldn’t win and a situation you couldn’t convince them out of. Thankfully you were surrounded by sensitive fucks who could really feel how terrible this was affecting you— you expected them to be more indifferent, to just not want to put up with your constant passive-aggressive answers and just agree even if they knew you weren’t truly speaking what you felt.

The real reason why they came over was to tease you with an ‘open invitation’ to having a friendly group dinner, with beers if your mood allowed, because they felt like you needed a little bit more fun and to stop being so paranoid all the damn time. There was a catch though: you’d have to sit through their basketball practice. On that note, you were about to jump out of your own skin in order to tell them ‘no,’ and that you did not want to even set foot in the basketball gym. Johnny thought way ahead though, telling you that Jaehyun has been negligent with practice these days and that he wouldn’t be there.

What Johnny didn’t tell you in full detail though, was he most likely wouldn’t be there.

So that meant while you were sitting by the bleachers- eyes roaming around at the spacious gym, wondering how you could sit here before almost all the time and not feel bored out of your mind, your friends were a little panicky about Jaehyun’s possible arrival. The place smelt like it used to, if humidity had a smell in this sense it definitely would be sweaty - mixed with all the different sprays each of the guys had. They were pretty surprised you showed up too, Yukhei and Donghyuck genuinely pestering you with tight hugs as they were convinced you passed away. Good for you, they had no idea at all about the context.

It felt like you were revisiting a dream: a little unreal, and a little melancholy. Never expecting you’d find yourself here.

Even the time you spent apart from Jaehyun felt longer than the time you spent almost everyday with him. Sadness could do that.

Foul six was even worse, when Jaehyun came in with Brianna again - smiling like he always did when he was with her. Your mind trying to recall if he ever smiled at you as much, or if he smiled at you as brightly.

He looked at you for three seconds, you could count with how slow your heart beat. But when he did see you, he lost his smile and he looked away.

Needless to say, you requested so many beers when your four friends took you to dinner— Johnny footing most of the bill.

-

It was a Monday when it happened, you were walking out of class alone (this time you were the one to want to try and savor the feeling of familiarizing yourself with yourself again, after what had happened in the gym and after another terrible hangover - you figured that maybe it was yourself that you were missing.) You thought that maybe it was time to breathe deeper and try different things out, although it still hurt you that Jaehyun seemed to be doing much much better at recovering than you did.

Well, who’s to say there was anything to recover from, right?

“This is one of the last requirements you’ll ever submit in this class. No, it isn’t in usual analytic format— rather, I want all of you to write up how you feel like you can related to Icarus in the myth of Daedalus and Icarus. Deadline is in two weeks.” You professor had announced right before you were dismissed, you simply took a note in your phone about it and waited for everybody else to exit so you could steer clear of walking with groups of friends that would obviously make you feel uncomfortable.

You were just about to walk out of Literature when you stopped in your tracks to notice that Chittaphon and Johnny were cornering Jaehyun outside the lecture hall. Morally, if you had any in tact for the sake of yourself, you would have gone and ducked your head down and brisk walked the hell away from there. Though, right now, you did not even have the guts to walk past them. So you decided to stand where you were behind the big doors and hide. Yes, eavesdropping was a terrible idea but you couldn’t help but wonder why the two were cornering the team captain; they very clearly discussed their dismay towards his insensitivities toward you and his negligence towards the team lately, but they knew much better than to ask for some confrontation. Besides, you’ve never seen them hold serious faces like that. Not ever.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny said deeply, he wasn’t speaking in the manner of a team member or a classmate, but more as a friend, “what the hell’s going on with you?”

You don’t see Jaehyun shrug, but you can hear the dismay in Chittaphon’s whine when there is no vocal noise that expressed Jaehyun’s answer.

“You said you were willing to talk to us! Can you at least give us a little more than that? You’ve been shrugging and giving one worded answers these days and it’s really getting on everyone’s nerves.” Johnny demanded.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong at all.” Then there it is. Jung Jaehyun finally speaks, but you think that as you hear his voice - you’ve missed this voice so much - that it does not sound like him. Technically, it does, but it does not feel the way he really speaks. Jung Jaehyun used to speak in a way that even the way his voice vibrated at the bottom of his tongue, you could feel every pronounced expression that he was trying to put out. This Jung Jaehyun sounded flat, dense, as if his words were thrown around in a void. It felt cold.

“Seriously? You’re going to keep acting this way? Isn’t anything important to you right now?” Johnny raised his voice, you could tell the answers he was getting frustrated him.

“What? I can’t go around and have some time for myself now? Is that not unfair Johnny?” To no avail it seemed, it was even more challenging that Jung Jaehyun kept his monotone voice.

“I’m not saying that it’s wrong for you to take some time off but this isn’t you Jaehyun. Bigger games are around the corner! And what? You’ve been disregarding Y/N’s existence like she didn’t even mean anything to you? It’s fucking bullshit.” The tallest exhausted, and you couldn’t help but feel cramped up in a tight spot when he mentioned you.

“What do you want me to say? That she matters? I think I’ve done more than make it clear at this point, Johnny. If she doesn’t want me to matter, I’m done. She doesn’t matter.” Fuck, that hurt.

With hot tears dripping on your cheeks, you walk out of where you were standing. To this, Johnny’s eyes go wide and Chittaphon tries to reach out and console you. But Jaehyun’s face is something else; it crumbles and it falters down to the realization that you had heard everything.

It feels like you are retracing your steps on the beach when you walk away.

“Y/N! Wait!” Like how he sounded before, it was ringing. How his voice claimed the ceiling of the hall. He was chasing after you this time, and he was getting closer faster.

You have guts this time, even if you know you look like hell. Turning around you face him, “I don’t matter, right?”

His brows furrow in distress. “It isn’t like that.” Oh, but to you it was.

“I know what I heard,” you exhale a deep breath, “just leave me alone Jung Jaehyun.” You shrug him off, but he grasps onto your forearm.

“Can you just please listen to me for once and not run away?” There’s a lump on your throat you can’t swallow, but you stand where you are and you nod slowly. It hurts that you want to hear him out.

“What else is left to say?” You try to exhale deeply, even through ragged breaths you were taking in.

Jaehyun drops all his things on the floor, despite the deep loud sound of them falling, there is no commotion made. Only now warm lights of the campus are turned on because it is late, it is quiet, and your knees are about to clump in together to freak you out. But he breaks you even more when he pulls out some stapled sheets out of what he was attempting to rummage along his items. At first you don’t recognize the thing he is holding; it looks worn out with many creases and dog ears at the sides and you wonder what is it in his hands— but then you recognize the detail in spacing: it was your paper. Somehow it made sense now why it had gone missing right before you were to show it to Doyoung, and how Jung Jaehyun couldn’t get off your hair.

“I’ve always had this,” he tries to explain even with all the layers of hesitation, “except I never got around to explain it to you.”

You are caught in a trap, and you cannot respond. Only with silence and your teeth pressing against each other in anticipating agony.

“These words have kept me drawn to you. I think I’ve gone out of my way so many times to make these words come to life. And those months being friends with you I just can’t help but feel like I haven’t completed what I was supposed to. I just can’t explain why, but I don’t regret reacting how I did on that beach.” Jung Jaehyun is still unimaginably confident as he tells you this.

But you tear up even more, “that’s where you’re wrong.” The voice in your throat croaks and falters.

“How can you say that?” He asks as if he is hurt, which is a very big leap from how he had sounded when he talked to Johnny. You take a very deep breath.

“Because I’m not a fucking charity case, Jung Jaehyun. What you feel isn’t real if that’s all that’s kept you with me for these past few months. You just confuse your pity for an entirely different thing, but you should know that I never needed you help.” You cannot look him in the eye as you look for anything else to distract you: the floor, your heartbeat, the edges of your worn out Converse. “It just sucks that I know I’ll love you even if you think of me that way.” It feels like your throat was choking up on its own, suddenly you wished you were swallowing the words you had uttered.

Jung Jaehyun doesn’t answer you, and he looks like he cannot, not when his eyes were wide as they were - and the rest of his expressions just glitch onto you.

Then you walk away with salty tears fitting themselves into the crevices of your lips as you try your best not to let him or Johnny or Chittaphon to run after you. There was already enough running.

-

Perhaps you expected way too much of Jung Jaehyun to have the tiniest hope to even believe that he would get out of his way to try harder to talk to you, because he was doing the exact opposite of that. It seemed he had traded you in, in exchange for the life he had before the two of you were friends. Although it was a little odd to see him divulge back into a lifestyle he swore he hated, it never dawned to you how much it suited him. Jung Jaehyun was in his natural state of a dream around everybody else, and you were burying yourself even deeper in all the aged terrible literature that would piss you off just because you wanted to distract yourself. Who were you kidding? It had only been two days, and to be honest to yourself - you weren’t really holding up great because your choice of strategy did anything but distract you; it only reminded you that you were forcing yourself to be distracted by him.

You’ve lost any avenue of focus, so you decided it would be fair to end up just not attending your classes anymore. It wasn’t like you were dropping out of class, you had a few weeks left into the semester and you could pass a lot of your requirements over e-mail - it was easier to just decide not to go and wait until Jung Jaehyun graduated.

~

“I heard she’s dropping out of her units.” One of the girls from the table said, Jung Jaehyun only now arriving to Brianna Chang’s lunch invitation, overhearing this. He sat next to Brianna, who was replying sadly to one of her friend’s new gossip.

“What a shame, she’s really intelligent too.” She commented, and Jung Jaehyun had to raise a brow.

“Who are we talking about?” He asks.

“Aren’t you close with her?” Brianna asks him, and he feigns any knowledge of the sort. “Y/N?” She asks again and he couldn’t believe his ears.

He pretends he doesn’t really understand the situation, “she’s dropping out?” Trying to suppress his own worry, he just keeps quiet.

For as long as Jung Jaehyun remembers, he’s always noticed you. Even before you got close to the mutual friends you two had shared, he always noticed how intelligent you were for ranking up at the top of your classes and how you never seemed interested in what a traditional college student would. Instead of taking yourself the entire way by drinking your nights out like a majority of people he knew did, you always seemed to keep things under a minimum and just go with the flow. What was even more interesting was how you were still able to say ‘yes’ to your friends’ invitations as well as study your brains out, and always attend his basketball games. To Jung Jaehyun, it sure was intriguing. He made sure he read all the paper work you submitted in class whenever you gave the teachers your permission to post them for reference sake (he heard a rumor that you were just that good to be used for reference) - and it never failed to make him even more curious. Even if he had all the chances in the world to try and introduce himself to you and get to know you because you were always around Doyoung and Chittaphon, he never wanted to force anything out of it.

During the first time your Literature professor called in for a meeting regarding the trip to Greece, he was a little bit intimidated to find out you had signed up— but it shouldn’t have surprised him because of course you would sign up, he did not have to know you well to know that he would probably find you where there was a trace of learning and extra credit or some challenge at such. He could tell how uncomfortable you were sitting next to him though, rummaging your papers all too quickly to pass in an assignment to be the first one to leave, causing you to not notice a couple of documents fly off of your compilation.

Jung Jaehyun was kind enough to pick them up to give back to you just to be, well, kind. But when he looked up to hand them back to you, you were simply gone from the room. For days he tried his best to give your papers back, and he never dared reading them. Each time he did try giving your papers back you always misread the situation, assuming he was nearing you because you were always with your mutual friends (he thought it would be easier to talk to you this way because he wouldn’t know how he could muster any courage up if he went up to you alone) and you would leave. Jung Jaehyun swore millions and millions of times in his head that no matter how long it would take to bring back your personal belongings, he would not read them. Not a single word. He did not triumph from this promise, curiosity taking over the best of him, and he ended up reading these papers. The letterhead was written for one of your classes, in perfect format he might add. Jung Jaehyun read each word as if he were digesting them, bit by bit in each space and in each phrase - he found it curious: how the almost always uptight seeming person he had always seen around school felt the way that they did. If his mind were to tell him that maybe you wrote out of compliance, he wouldn’t believe it either; it was all too perfect and all too feeling for him to say you wrote out of the sheer need to.

The most striking thing was, it made him feel lonely— or, lonelier, if that were possible. Maybe you perfectly resonated the same feelings onto him through words, and it was apparent to him that he was a bit more frustrated at the thought that he did not know how to change your mind, he did not know how to be close to you.

It was definitely out of his hands when Chittaphon arranged a night out to drink after they had won that game when Brianna Chang confessed to him in front of everybody. He recalled how he saw you in the bleachers when he was switched out during a time out called by the other team’s coach, and how he didn’t care for the ‘major’ confession he received after they had won; he was too busy wondering why you disappeared along with the crowd, because he kind of knew that you would typically stay behind a little longer not to jam yourself in with the crowd. He had thought it would mess him up for the rest of the night which made him want to drink to forget about the girl he barely knew anyway, but to his surprise you were sitting there by the haphazardly arranged set of tables just put together - and he knew that after he accompanied his friends to order by the bar counter that it was definitely his chance to sit next to you.

It was another thing to text you the next morning, him trying his best not to write the most awkward greeting - considering that he did bring you home the night before. But he thought he’d never have any other chance to get to talk to you and try to be one of your friends too, and so he just did what he could even if it meant that he would plow through his own embarrassment.

The boy kind of proved that he had balls of steel when he asked you to have dinner, having a strong feeling you would turn him down because you probably would be busy. But then you had agreed to him anyway - to him it was just an invitation to dinner, but when Doyoung was there with you and asked what the two of you were up to, Jung Jaehyun thought that maybe it wasn’t ‘just dinner’ especially since his heart was beating faster than he would have liked.

You won him over without even knowing when the two of you talked over dinner, and even more so when the two of you had walked to your apartment just so he could take a look into your work. Jung Jaehyun realized that at the very least he was interested in you, but he was sure he harbored a little bit of feelings. From there everything had just blown into proportion.

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like without grabbing dinner with you, having you sit in the bleachers doing your paperwork but also surprisingly giving him constructive advice on the sport (this was honestly just the icing on the cake), dragging you out when you least expected to - or just seeing the smile on your face whenever you’d exit your dazed expression.

Jung Jaehyun never thought he could ever easily open up to anyone as much as he could to you, it was like spreading out a velvet map over a creaseless table - all his edges seemed to fall perfectly out of his lips and into your own words. He could listen to you recite your poetry all day. He only wanted to see your face after every single practice and every single draining game. He wanted to clasp his hands around your wrist just to catch you off guard, but also only because he had no other excuse to touch you. He knew he loved you since the first time he asked you to eat Chinese food with him for dinner, and he knew he would love you even more when you were so willing to show him your collection of literature. Jung Jaehyun knew he never loved anyone the way he loved you.

Something had scared him though, the idea that he did not want to risk romance with you. To Jung Jaehyun, he always received too special treatment from females - often receiving confessions, making it easier for him to know if someone did like him or not. So in his eyes, you seemed to treat him in no more difference than the rest of your friends. Many times had he longed to bring up the possibility of something else between the two of you, but he did not want to ruin what was already there. Maybe if he didn’t risk it, the routine he built around you would stay and he wouldn’t have to deal with the idea of ever losing you. Even if it was against his own heart, he decided to try and feel something else for someone else. That’s why he had chased after Brianna.

Imagine his surprise when you had told him that you loved him, Jung Jaehyun felt like he threw up his own heart and tried swallowing it down. When he kissed you, he wanted you to kiss him back and he wanted you to keep telling him that you loved him because he so desperately wanted to tell you that he loved you too.

But you ran away, because he knew that things weren’t in the right order for you to continue. He had just told you that he was pursuing Brianna, and here he was kissing you only because you told him that you loved him.

-

Guilt ate away at Jung Jaehyun for the next few days. Deciding it was only ever fair now for anyone in the situation, he called anything off with Brianna before things got to serious and before he could regret anything. He waited for you to walk through the doors of the lecture hall for Advanced Literature, but you never came in. He heard people talking about your absence in annoyance, knowing that to them it only mattered that they were talking about somebody else for the sake of gossip. If you were around anyway they wouldn’t bat an eyelash at you, and here they were talking about all the different possibilities as to why the school’s academic ace wasn’t attending classes anymore. To Jung Jaehyun, he was willing to listen to hearsay if only to feed his mind and to try and reassure himself that you were probably doing fine. At least he had hoped so.

“I heard she’s transferring to a different university to take her masters in advance,” the girls behind him were talking about you, “I mean, she’s always been offered many scholarships from a lot of the good arts schools. It isn’t far from happening.” Wrong, he thought. You always swore you would get your diploma and attend your own graduation to feel the payoff of all your hard work. It wasn’t the most likely case.

“I heard she’s going somewhere for extra credit?” Another suggested, and obviously Jaehyun knew this wasn’t true either; you had every extra curricular and extra credit related thing listed down for the semester - and you never mentioned anything.

“I heard she hasn’t been going to classes because something upset her. My dad works at the hospital, and apparently she went into one of the therapy clinics in their wing. She didn’t look so good either.”

Now, this scared Jaehyun, as it was the only real possibility in his head.

He waited for class to be over to be able to talk to Chittaphon, his friend treating him with a little bit more caution since the last time you had a confrontation with Jaehyun.

“Why isn’t she coming to class anymore?” Jaehyun felt like he started breathing after holding in his breath, deciding to get straight to the point already.

To his dismay, Chittaphon could only shrug. “She hasn’t been talking to any of us, we haven’t had contact with her since— well, yeah, you should know.” This seemed even harder for him now, only realizing how difficult he made this entire situation when he could have just grown the balls to tell you that he loved you even before you did.

“Oh.” Was the only thing Jaehyun could say, staring down as he fiddled with his thumbs. He was guilty guilty guilty.

“Jaehyun, I love this reform you’re putting yourself on, but allow her to be lost. Maybe she needs it, in her own selfish way.”

-

Jung Jaehyun realizes over the course of the next few days that he misses you, and that nothing has really changed that. He thought that he had already known how it felt like to be so painfully in love with somebody, having been in a long term relationship that everybody had pinned for ever since he started off in college. He had remembered dating Kristen Sy mainly because it only made sense to everybody else for them to be together. There was love there, definitely. But the difference it made with loving you meant that he did not have to love somebody just because it felt like they were perfectly made to be cut out for them. In a way, because you were so different from Jaehyun, it made you perfect. Now his mind was kept wondering about all the different possibilities and all the chances he had with you and what could have happened if only he knew how to speak up and to realize much sooner that he loved you too.

He’s been in the middle of wracking up a storm in his head trying to write the paper on Icarus, noticing that (even though that’s exactly the writing assignment) he isn’t any different at all from the character.

Jung Jaehyun, always caught up in his own world where he is always praised an loved by everybody else, but he is left in these moments of vulnerability because he loves you.

-

It is the championship game of the season, the last game they’ll ever be playing for college basketball, when Jung Jaehyun tries his best to get his mind off of you for just one second. Big scouts are there to watch the game, and he can’t fuck it up for himself or for any of the other boys.

He couldn’t say that during the time outs that he didn’t look for you in the crowds of people, because he did. Trying to imagine that you were somewhere there with Lisa and Chittaphon and actually watching the game. Although he could not locate you, and it was very difficult trying to control his sadness. In his mind he pictured your face, and how intently you would watch the game as if you knew how to play it in the flesh, and how you would clasp your hands together each time you would slightly panic at the possibility of a foul or a missed hoop.

His imagination was not enough, that was for sure, but the idea of you cheering him on and telling him you were happy kept him going. Remembering how you were so genuinely happy for him when he would tell you about how excited he was about being scouted by one of the largest Leagues there was, he couldn’t help but smile his way through the quarters of the game.

Except Jung Jaehyun never prepared for the times when he would remember your face through all the different memories you had shared, even at the final twelve seconds on the shot clock when he was running to their basket— shooting a three pointer with a sure win score, he could remember the way you walked away. And the look on your face when you had cried and told him that he did not understand what he felt.

He stared off of a blank distance his eyes not locked down on anything specific, as the rest of the boys cheered and some got off the bench - Jung Jaehyun’s last time playing for college basketball. Though, the pieces couldn’t fit - even as Johnny Seo smacked him in the arm out of the pure pride he had felt for his captain, and when everybody handed him the championship trophy and carried him from each limb to raise him up as the most valuable player, it simply did not feel complete without you there. Even when their coach told them that SM League would be scheduling an official dinner for him and his team to talk business.

They were all roughly packing up at the locker room now, everyone tired. Through the dreadful noise of Yukhei’s screeching, he placed his items carefully in his duffel bag; realizing now that he was going to have to eventually totally empty up his locker. The metal only felt as cold as how he’d like.

“Jaehyun hyung,” Mark snapped him back into reality, “somebody left this for you a while ago.” His eyes travelled down to see Mark holding a plastic bag, and so he nodded in confused curiosity as he accepted it anyway. It was food? Maybe?

Written in an oddly familiar puppy designed sticky note were the words ‘congratulations, i knew you could do it.’ He couldn’t mistake it for anything else, it had to be your perfectly curved handwriting. Inside there were cans of  convenience store beer and a single-sized pizza, reminding him of the times you two used to park by the bay and talk about life in the cold of the hood of his car. You watched his game. More than ever it hit him that he missed you.

-

Growing up and getting into all school levels, meeting new people and keeping old ones, Jung Jaehyun knew that he just wasn’t the type to really gravitate toward pain. He grew up an only child, with his parents’ undivided attention given towards him and his future - and although he did not make all the friends he wanted, he made really good ones and never had a hard time letting any of them go when time dictated. He learned that every time he used to scrape his knees, it wouldn’t make it feel any better if he cried about it— like every time he failed to make the perfect shot he expected to make in the first place, he never dared to cry.

But with you all he wanted to do was get rid of all the pain - the stupid sensation he felt all over his chest that he could not explain. It was all so alien to him, how you could matter so much to the point where he had to realize now over and over again how stupid he was.

Throughout all the stages in his life he knew that life came easy to him, and he was some how gifted with the charms of reeling other people in, and never having to worry for his impressions onto others. But when he met you, he was always nervous and afraid of saying the wrong thing. When he became your friend he was always thinking about how you must have thought that he was a big distraction and that you had better ways to spend your time. And in those short moments where he could not grasp the events in his own life, he knew he loved you and that’s what mattered anyway.

Jaehyun was writing his paper on Icarus, trying not to divide his attention into anything else. For days he hasn’t seen you in class and his mind wondered what it would have been like if the two of you were fine, and if he had told you earlier on that he loved you too. So now maybe he understood the text a little bit better, maybe he needed to take more chances like Icarus did - even if he knew the repercussions of his actions. And maybe if he did crash and fall, then fail like Icarus, it meant that he took a chance with you anyway.

There was no telling now that he’d broken your heart and his own if he were going to drown in some sea of regret or burn into the sun, but what mattered was that he knew something now that he couldn’t comprehend back then.

He was not afraid of loving you. Not anymore.

-

His heart was racing, as were his feet and the surprisingly heavy luggage he was dragging around as he and Chittaphon were tailing the Literature professor around the airport in order for them to be admitted to their respective gate. He had his passport lodged between the confines of his lips, trying to keep the thing from touching too much saliva. But then in between his fingers he tried to balance his identification card and his phone, and everyone else wasn’t of help because their hands were all pretty stuffed too. Apparently their flight wasn’t until two hours but since this was a school related thing, they felt the need to panic about being late or potentially getting lost around the airport.

They were going to Thessaloniki now, and there was still no word about your presence - not even your professor mentioning any such detail about an appearance from you on the trip. Jung Jaehyun wouldn’t dare lie and say that he was really bummed that you really weren’t showing up, guilt eating him alive, he hoped over the course of your friendship that the trip to Greece would be a fun thing to enjoy between the two of you. But now, part of him sort of expected a no show from you; no one has heard from you in two weeks, and how was he even able to hope that you were going to show up.

After checking in at the gate, Jaehyun and Chittaphon decided to get some food - as it was about 2 in the morning and they haven’t eaten anything. And there was a twenty our flight in total, the next time they were going to be on land was going to be the layover in Istanbul. Leaving the professor behind to look after all of their things as she claimed an entire bench to the three of them, they set off in a quest to look for some coffee.

“I’ll have two large Americanos please.” Chittaphon told the barista behind the counter.

Jaehyun raised a brow, there was so much caffeine in question, “two? Are you trying to wake yourself up or are you trying to get yourself killed? It’s that, or wasn’t I in charge of buying miss Kim’s coffee?” He asked his friend.

To which Chittaphon responded with a chuckle, “what? It’s not like I’m going to go all berserk on the plane ride after I drink this much coffee.”

“Oh but you’ll have to give me a hard time when you literally get pissy.” Jaehyun joked.

“Who says I’m even sitting next to you, Jae? I’d much rather sit next to miss Kim and tell her how extremely grateful I am to her for allowing me to go on this trip.” His friend jabbed at him.

“Well, whatever suits you Chittaphon.” Jaehyun looks at the barista who was ready to take his order. “Two Americanos and a small box of bagels please.”

As they walked back slowly to find the benches where they set up, talking about how in just a three weeks they were going to graduate, Jaehyun noticed that somebody was talking to their professor. Although, he doesn’t remember seeing anyone they knew when they settled in the gate, so he decided that maybe he mistook a stranger for miss Kim.

“Jae? Where are you going?” Chittaphon asked, three steps behind him as Jaehyun was close to stirring away toward another direction. “Miss Kim is right there.” In Jaehyun’s confused plight, he did realize that he wasn’t seeing incorrectly, and that he was really seeing their professor talking to somebody. But he could only see her back. Miss Kim noticed that the two of them have arrived back and she waved over to beckon them in.

And then the stranger ran a hand through her hair slowly, and a little nervously if his assumption was right by the way her fingers twitched. The thing that gave it all away was that ring around the index finger, one he was accustomed with, something he always saw you wearing.

It couldn’t be.

The stranger turned around, and it was a face he missed a lot. This was no stranger, it was you - little bit more tired looking, and your hair cut shorter. In a way, you did look a little strange; he held a lot of memories in your hands when he took them, scents associated with how he smelt your hair, and each reflection of himself in those doe like eyes. Now your hands were a little bit more frail, and your hair framed your face in a way of change, and your eyes were set in no shock compared to the way his held so much - they were empty. But this was you.

It was, it really was.

Chittaphon was going to have a difficult time trying to explain himself, especially since he and miss Kim knew you were arriving and coming with them to Greece. Also, how he bought you that extra coffee in advance. But most importantly, how he knew the strict seating arrangements of the plane in advance as well. Jaehyun wasn’t going to deal with his piss because you were designated seat mates.

-

You would have thought that you knew better than to decide to catch up from your apartment, missing two weeks of attending actual lectures - you relied on your professors’ emails. There was some unspoken advantage of acing all of your classes, and being known to be a little more advanced for your age. None of them seemed to second guess your request of asking for all the compliance work you had to accomplish because you had to explain that you had to take a short leave of absence due to ‘medical reasons,’ which was a blatant lie by the way; it was just something you thought was easy to fake since you found your way around to ask for a certificate of an old illness you had when you were younger - that now somehow resurfaced out of thin air. Nevertheless, you put your mind into work and said fuck it.

It was one of the stupidly relieving things you’ve done. It seemed, each time you got your mind off of understanding lessons yourself, your mind always drifted back to Jung Jaehyun - and the answer to avoiding those thoughts were always related to just sleeping it off. The cycle was sluggish, tiring, a terribly perfect way for you to try to grasp the idea of rest.

Until one day after stressfully running your hands through your hair millions and millions of times as the stray pieces disturbed your focus at the pages you were highlighting, you guessed that it was a terrific idea to cut your hair. Surprise, it felt like it freed much needed space somewhere you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

A couple of days on this hiatus you found yourself in, and a ton of coffee consumed later, you were palpitating beyond comfortability. Frustratingly, the facilities got it all wrong when you were trying to explain what you felt one of the men listening by the reception was the father of a girl you had some classes with (you remembered that face from her graduation last year, before she was now taking up her masters), and you were transferred to the therapy unit to make sure they tried all sides of trying to assess your situation. Funnily enough, it took a certified psychiatrist to figure out that you were drinking way too much caffeine.

Then a few days later, you knew that it was the final (final, final) basketball championship game for the collegiate level. Although you were gravely sleep deprived with less tense muscles clinging onto your nerves, you figured that you had a heart somewhere still hidden away tucked beneath Jung Jaehyun’s sweaty strands of hair. You argued with yourself that you should have stayed away, because you knew that it was inevitable for them to win. But you were not going to pass up the final time you were going to see the legendary basketball team you watched all the damn time since you were a freshman, and you weren’t going to throw all of Jung Jaehyun away. Maybe now you were calmer, hiding behind scarier, more intimidating looking people in the bleachers - clumsily balancing the pizza and beer you bought between your fidgeting fingers each time the other team would make a clean steal at the ball. It still hurt somewhere to see him. Jung Jaehyun looked tired on court, and it was the first time you witnessed him looking so disheveled in the place you’d usually find him to be shining. But when the crowd went ballistic when the margin was far off and he took a final shot just for the sake of it, you stormed out to leave your little gift behind. It all just felt happy in your head; you were happy for him, you were very much sure that he would be playing for the big leagues.

Even though you had this whole debacle on how you were secretly catching up with your classes, of course your participation in the trip to Thessaloniki wasn’t out of the picture. Part of you was awfully assuming that you wouldn’t see Jung Jaehyun on the trip because maybe he had half the mind to give it up because you were going as well. But then again from the absence you took, to which you did not respond to any of your friends at all about their worried queries, you thought that maybe it would be a lot more logical for him to go on the trip assuming that you were gone from university. So you asked for a special consideration from your professor, miss Kim, if she would still count you in as part of the trip - to which she answered with ‘as long as you are able to pass, and as long as you are able to commit to going.’

That, if it weren’t for your deep and utter need to be able to hold on to your love for writing, you had to commit to. Sure it was quite difficult to put a little bit of yourself aside in order to really catch up, but unfortunately that was the only path you could take.

-

Nothing could ever mentally prepare you for this trip. Not even the two weeks you took of intensive studying by yourself, or that time you learned French for a semester and was put on the spot for it by touring a French transferee around your campus. It wasn’t like you did not know that you were going to likely suffer through his presence; it was hard enough as it is to basically put yourself into isolation - and now he’s one of the first people you were going to see.

You had assumed over text with Chittaphon and miss Kim that your rather late arrival was absolutely fine, since they gave off the vibe that only the two of them were patiently out to wait for you at the gate. So when Chittaphon asked you if you wanted a cup of coffee during the wait, you immediately said yes - as you thought that you looked like such a monstrosity, the caffeine boost was very much appreciated. Except, when you arrived to have a brief catching up with only your professor who was surrounded by a sea of luggage, you felt oddly alarmed.

Alarms did sound off in your head when you turned around to notice Chittaphon and Jung Jaehyun holding excessive amounts of coffee, a very bland look dawned by the boy mentioned in the latter. It was as if he was wiped off of all emotion in one whole sweep of just spotting you, and it hurt to see him that way. It hurt to just see him at all.

How did you even get here a few hours later? Basically melting into your seat next to Jung Jaehyun, you felt like you were slowly going to disappear into a little pile of goo. The feeling in the air was terribly odd, especially when you were trying keep your composure - and you weren’t sure whether the feeling was angry or sad. And you wished your body was capable of turning itself into goo; it could save you the immense torture of the awkward tension that filled the air. Because he was there, he was real, he was sitting right next to you. All your eyes could do was try and distract your brain by looking at all the little cracks between the airplane seats in front of you, not minding that it looked like you were staring at the same cartoon projection of your destination from the small television screen from behind the seats. Chittaphon had betrayed you: admitting earlier that he was responsible for booking these tickets last minute because he took on this responsibility. Apparently you and Jaehyun were meant to sit at least ten rows away from miss Kim and Chittaphon, next to each other, with you seated by the window seat. This was a set up, and clearly it wasn’t working.

The hours between the flight it took for you to get to the layover in Istanbul was mildly uneventful. You weren’t able to really sleep it all off because the coffee kicked in at the wrong time, and it seemed the same way for Jaehyun. Who only took to wearing his AirPods, not sparing you a single glance at all. The way you retaliated was through watching a movie that was available in the files on the little television, not giving in to having to ask him if you could pass and pee in the lavatory - or just so you wouldn’t resort to breaking the ice because it was awfully silent between the two of you to the point where your throat felt tender. When you two got out your chairs to get your luggage in the compartment above the seats, it was basically the same thing. Just beelines to get the hell out of there.

You could see the hopeful look on Chittaphon’s face as he and miss Kim were waiting for the two of you to exit the plane. It was the kind of look that expected you and Jung Jaehyun to be chummy, or to at least have spoken over things and have an air of comfort between the two of you. But the three feet distance between the two of you was pretty explanatory, and your Thai friend had nothing to expect.

“We’re grabbing some breakfast here on the ground before our next flight,” your professor checked her wrist watch, “which is in about four hours? So we have a lot of time to wait and to eat.” She said, oblivious to the drama between her students.

When the four of you left the gate of the plane, Jung Jaehyun quickly grabbed your carry-on bag, which left you a with imaginary question marks planted all over your face. If you had any guts to even say anything, maybe you would ask him what the hell was he playing at, but the thing is - you really, seriously had no guts at all to spare and even try to face him at the moment. So you could not contest the action.

Even when all of you found a restaurant to eat at around the airport, it was odd sight to see having Jung Jaehyun carry only his and your orders back to the table - considering that he and Chittaphon were carrying the orders, and Chittaphon was the person to buy you coffee before your flight to Istanbul. Your hands brushed against against that of Jaehyun’s when he handed you your drink, the the surge of electricity left you even more puzzled.

But when Jung Jaehyun asked you if you were okay as you walked to your next boarding flight the few hours later, you decided you couldn’t do this. You could not understand why you did not feel like you wanted to rip his head off, and instead it even hurt you some place in the chest that you did not know could feel that way. You did not feel angry, and it scared you the most how seeing him could change everything so quickly for you.

“Y/N.” He drawled out, he sounded tired trying to come up with reason.

You didn’t have it in you to answer him, so you rushed on over to sit next to your professor instead - with Chittaphon seeing the look on your face. You were horrified, and you weren’t ready to face Jung Jaehyun.

Needless to say, you were sniffling in your plane seat for the first hour until you fell asleep and tried to keep the tears away.

-

When you arrive in Thessaloniki in Greece, your brain tries to wrack up all the million different beautiful details of the city. You could go on and on to describe the sight that lay before you, but at the moment you simply could not. It was a place that birthed so many different links to human life, and the many things you have read over the years.

You wished you could say that you could smoothly sail through the beauty of the place without having any bothersome thought in your heart because of the boy you were with on this trip, but you could not say that.

It was interesting to think that you’ve liked him for the longest time, and at some point you realized you were the closest friends - the countless times you would text, share the lamest jokes, watch him play in court and worry about basketball after, share meals, take pictures. He was like your poetry collection: you know it for many things and then you realize that all the tears and smudges meant something deeper. Like how he imbedded himself into your skin, and now it’s way different than what it all was.

After a long day of venturing out on the city alone, since you were given the privilege of time, you found yourself walking through the Promenade of the city - where the bay marries the platforms of concrete, stone, and wood. Even in the cold evening air you painfully wonder what went wrong, and how it all got here.

You knew you loved him still, for sure. It was going to take mountains and seas to change that. You could smell the air of the sea, could feel how your feet tried to balance off every uneven step. It reminded you of loving Jaehyun and being his friend, it just all made sense.

Reaching the White Tower of Thessaloniki, you decide that since it doesn’t close for two hours you could spare some time checking out the museum within the monument. It was built in the fifteenth century during the Byzantine fortification, the structure still standing tall on the waterfront of the city. No doubt it’s been tweaked a bit of times throughout all the years, the lights installed inside screamed anything but natural. But you led yourself through the maze of screen heads to be able to try and find your way to get on the top of the tower in hopes to view the sea in a different way.

You reach the top of the tower, only the lights below you truly light up the night. And once again, farther away from comfort, you are alone.

“Can I stand here?” A voice threatens you out of your melancholy, and you were drawn back to that night at the bar - when Chittaphon and Lisa basically abandoned you at the end of the makeshift long table. It seems that Jung Jaehyun asks you these kinds of questions as if you have property rights over all basic human commodities of chairs and floors, and now bricks and concrete. Even his politeness bothers you.

“Sure.” Is the same answer you pose. And he stands three feet away from you, like he has so far during the duration of this trip.

After a few moments of silence, he speaks. “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nod, but it’s not like he is looking at you - because you are trying your best not to look at him. “Thessaloniki is, yes.” But he doesn’t respond to you, and you weren’t expecting a response from him either. Small talk worked that way, and it was hard to maneuver yourself into this ‘conversation.’

“No, not this place.” He says, gently. Before you could even respond, you quickly take a glance at him to try and confirm through his expression what he means to say.

And Jung Jaehyun is looking right at you.

“Jaehyun, I—“ You try and reason out that you aren’t ready to face him like this, not when your heart is shattered into a million pieces. And especially not when you don’t care that your heart is broken because he is right there.

“Remember when I told you about getting scouted by that big league for basketball?” He manages to misdirect you just when you were about to step away, so you end up staying in your tracks. “I was so fucking happy holding you then and there when we were looking over the bay on top of my car, and I realized just how scared I was about the future but you made me feel like it’s an absolutely normal thing to feel scared of the unknown. And maybe I wasn’t so scared after all. The view kind of reminds me of that, but we’re standing so far apart, and I can understand why.”

You don’t know what to say, except to keep the bunch in your throat bundled up in nervousness - how you cannot pinpoint what he is trying to lead to. But you find yourself tearing up at his words, and it is salty when your tears find their way to fit into the crevices of your lips.

“Conversely, I think what makes me more scared is that the only reason why I feel like things will go fine is because I believe you. I always really have, and maybe I’ve been too caught up in trying to preserve our friendship to the point where I simply never wanted to tell you that I’m absolutely stupidly in love with you. You aren’t some charity case of some social sciences paper that fell of the file and landed to my hands. It was a lucky thing that allowed me to get to you, and to realize that my admiration must have meant that I’ve liked you for the longest time. I love you because you complete me, and not because I’m trying to complete you. You’re the three-point shoot that makes me win the game by a landslide, Y/N. Now the only thing I know that really fucking scares the shit out of me is losing you and knowing that I hurt you because I tried falling in love with someone else. It’s you.” Jung Jaehyun explains, then pauses. “You can tell me I was stupid for kissing you on the beach like that, I just thought you meant that you loved me and I didn’t know how long for. You can even tell me to fuck off and never talk to you again, and we can try to be civil and enjoy Thessaloniki for as much as we can fake comfortability. I just want to say I love you for as much as I can before I make you run away from me again, because it sucks to know all too well that I love you and that I hurt you. I’m just, I’m sorry.”

You do not speak for as long as you please, because you are trying to absorb what Jung Jaehyun told you.

“Jung Jaehyun, you’re such a fucking bitch.” Are the last seven words you say until you come closer to him and kiss him as hard as you can. He doesn’t expect this at all, obviously - by the way you could feel his face lift in surprise, and the short lag time it takes for him to kiss you back. It’s as if it’s only the two of you there, and you feel yourself unfold in his touch - like the pain drains away from you slowly.

Then, you think, was it so quaintly beautiful to kiss Jung Jaehyun in a historical landmark. Even more beautiful (and kind of confusing) when you forgive him right away; you have been just as stupid as he has.

“So, you’ve been at home all this time, huh?” He asks, as the two of you awkwardly find your way back to the city’s promenade to buy yourselves some time before heading back to the hotel, the distance between you not so far away - but enough for you to feel the cool of the air.

“Yes, I have.” You answer sheepishly, he has you caught guilty of your preference of a flight mechanism.

You turn to face him and redirect the topic back to him, “congrats on your game, by the way. You really nailed that last shot.”

Jaehyun smiles, “you really went on over and watched?”

“I mean, I had to sit somewhere I knew you wouldn’t see so that it wouldn’t be awkward if you did.”

“Well you know what? It was more awkward when Mark gave me the food you got.”

It is your turn to laugh, “I wouldn’t say much about that. All the other boys caught me and I had to make the delivery a little discrete, it was up to them to assign somebody to give the food to you, Mark was just a little unlucky.”

“I’m only a little disappointed,” he pouts, “I really thought you’d be there to hug me first and to tell me I did a great job after my last collegiate game. I should have told you earlier how I felt; this was all really dumb.”

“In my defense, you know I couldn’t just go up to you and hug you after what happened.”

He smiles sadly, “yeah, I know.”

“Jaehyun, it’s really okay. I mean I did say ‘I love you’ first, so it’s on me.” You try to reassure him, but he tries to compete.

“I loved you first though.” It comes out of his mouth with no tone of doubt.

“No, wrong again.” You hold up a loose hand.

“I loved you ever since we had dinner together for the first time, I think it was really there. I know I’m right.” He justifies, but you raise your voice in comparison.

“I loved you first.” You throw the argument back at him.

“No, I believe I loved you first.” He tries to say, and before a loop of argumentation could even happen you start to babble.

“Jaehyun, I’ve loved you since I saw you smile at Johnny from the back row when we became classmates in English for the first time - I don’t see how you can top that. Besides, you just said that you weren’t sure how long I’ve loved you for.”

He looks confused for a moment, and he doesn’t respond. He takes both his palms and clasps at your arms to stop you from walking and to keep you in place.

“Say that again.” He demands

“I have loved you since freshman year? Is that what you wanted me to say, or?” You try not to sound like you don’t understand why he needs to hear this again. But what you don’t know is, as he holds you a little bit tighter, he never knew you’ve loved him for that long - assuming that when you told him you loved him on the beach shore, you meant only recently.

He looks at you in a way you cannot explain, but he kisses you so deeply. And when he pulls away his eyes are filled with question, “I’m so stupid, god.” He says to himself, but you laugh it off instead. “You’re always a step ahead of me, huh?”

-

Johnny and Doyoung wake you up for a video call request the next morning, you wake up at the annoying notification sound. Neither miss Kim nor Chittaphon encountered you and Jaehyun together last night as you two took a bus back to the hotel after walking through the promenade, so there was no logical reason in your mind that could link back to why these two out of all people were calling you.

But you answer the video call anyway.

“What?” As the pixelated video connects you ask in a grumbled voice.

“Is Jaehyun not with you?” Doyoung says choppily.

“Huh? Why would Jaehyun be with me?” You are confused, as you’re only really waking up alone in your hotel bed.

“Am I not getting transmissions right, or haven’t the two of you made up or something?” Johnny asks this time.

“And when did you hear that?” You pretend you do not understand.

“Dude, I seriously asked Jaehyun to go and talk to you last night because he was planning on doing it anyway but he was chickening out. He texted me a smile emoji at like three in the morning and I thought that it meant that things were fine, but it must have been a sarcastic smile.” He explains.

“So basically you’ve been tailing me through Jaehyun, and now you’re asking me about it? You have real balls, Seo.”

“Are you and Jaehyun okay or what?” Doyoung demands an answer.

You break character just to piss him off a bit. “Yeah we are, dumb ass.” Johnny sighs out of relief from the other line, at the same time you hear knocking on your hotel door and you lazily scramble to answer it. Once you do open the door Chittaphon decides to just barge in.

“Why—“ You don’t even bother continuing your question, instead you change what you were going to ask. “Am I missing something here, or are you all just inviting yourselves to be part of my morning?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aside from the fact that Jaehyun woke up way too early for it to be normal and I could hear him singing in the shower. We aren’t even sharing the same room! He’s staying right next to mine and his energy is annoying. What happened? Did you suddenly profess your love for each other or something.” Chittaphon rants out of frustration, but you can only really laugh at this.

“That is precisely what happened, yes.” You answer him, as your Thai friend notices you’re on call with somebody.

“Oh hey Johnny, Doyoung,” He greets as he unsuccessfully waves his hands in the air, “guess we really are the fundamental bridges to their union.” And Johnny is quick to agree on the other end of the line just by the looks of it.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourselves.” You roll your eyes. It doesn’t take long until the entire basketball team goes on to flood your inbox about how happy they are that everything is suddenly alright. You suppose this is a cute thing, how all of these guys have been delicately concerned with what has been going on. You kind of feel like they are the lost boys of Neverland, wanting Peter and Wendy to kiss and make up. This is something you miss. Much to your dismay during that morning, when Chittaphon finally gets back into a good mood after napping on your bed for thirty minutes - in which you’ve already prepared for the day - you haven’t seen Jaehyun yet.

When you go down to the hotel lobby though, there he is, with his hair a little bit damp but his face thrown into a smile once he lays his eyes on you.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He greets, and it even looks like the sunlight is in chorus with his smile. Unbelievable.

“You look way too happy for it to be comfortable.” You comment, but he pulls you into a hug.

“We’re okay now, right?” He asks, and you chuckle into his chest.

“Jung Jaehyun, if we weren’t okay I wouldn’t allow you to do this to me.”

He hums. “I just wanted to say that I love you,” you laugh at him again like it’s the silliest thing in the world to hear— but you are surprised to know that Jaehyun is serious, “I have to make up for the years we could have been in this position, and I could have said it sooner.”

And that’s what Jung Jaehyun does, in every single alleyway and every corner you walk in Thessaloniki. He reminds you that he loves you. When your fingers trace through beautiful words written on the walls of museums, and look through the art piled up in random streets - he tells you he loves you and how you write, and how you tend to overanalyze everything of art you see. He takes notes of this when he takes pictures of you when you are not looking, and you smile when you take unflattering photos of him in return. When he takes your hand, and realizes you are all there is. When he is inside you, and you see how his eyes glint with each time he says that it’s you.

-

It doesn’t scare you when you get home from Greece. When you have to finally face the music and go back to school, people gawking at the sight of Jung Jaehyun being so outwardly open about the two of you being a couple. It doesn’t scare you to wait for each other after class to go back to getting dinners, and this time spending more and more time with each other. When Jaehyun asks you to be his girlfriend that time when he shadily asks you to go into the court because he said he wanted you to watch him throw his last hoops before the two of you get out of school. It doesn’t scare you when the two of you graduate a while later, and he’s automatically placed into professional basketball, while you’re assigned to do field work for a publishing company that offers travels abroad to investigate history and to simply absorb the world. College turns out to be way faster than you thought; one day you’re crushing on this basketball champion from the bleachers, one day you become hopelessly inseparable, and the next he’s your boyfriend.

Just a few days ago you handed him perfectly straightened envelopes filled with letters you want him to read for each day the two of you would be separated. He was going to intensively train for a while to condition himself in one of their facilities a few states away, while you were off to Crete to take note of significant landmarks and events there. It seemed that you could never have enough of Greece.

“You aren’t coming with me this time.” You talk to him on the phone before you were to board your plane.

“Unfortunately,” he says with a little bit of sadness, “but I’ll see you sooner than you know it, okay?”

“I know, Jae. It isn’t like we’re going to die without each other, this is the fifth time we’re going to be apart for the year but we’re fine. We have to get used to the set up.” You kid, and you practically feel his deep laugh from the other line.

“Oh don’t jinx it, please!” Jaehyun exclaims. “I feel like my heart is going to burst into pieces not being able to hold you.”

“Again, you aren’t going to die Jaehyun, so you better take care of yourself while we’re apart.” You recall the first time he had to go into training and you had to stay behind, Taeyong called you multiple times to say that Jaehyun would refuse to eat because he wasn’t used to the sudden quiet (even though he was with the noisiest bunch in the planet.) He wouldn’t sleep well either, and stay up all night reading because he said it reminded him of you. It took a lot of convincing but eventually you got him to get back on track, which honestly meant threatening him. “If you don’t take care of yourself, I’m going to make sure to beat your ass in return, and you should know that I mean it.”

“Breakfast and dinner don’t taste the same without you.” He whines like a child.

“You’re such a child Jaehyun—“

“I love you.”

Even if he’s said it a million times, it still puts you at a loss of words sometimes.

“My uh, my flight’s boarding. Love you too.” You’re forced to end the call before he can say a goodbye, and although you tell him not to miss you so much - you cannot tell him that you probably miss him more, if not as much.

Crete’s sun is only a little forgiving when you arrive, it is not to hot - but hot enough to bring your face into a scowl. It’s a little bit more calming in Crete than it is in the city you’re from; the streets aren’t as crowded as you would have expected upon your arrival, and the air feels just fine. For a few seconds you think that it might be a little bit easier not to miss Jaehyun, but then you realize that every single little thing you see you automatically remember him - and you want to bring him here just so the two of you can spend more time with each other.

On your first three days in Crete, you try to familiarize yourself with the place. Opting to really try and take a feel at how things are here and how life is, you find yourself exploring places in a quest of getting out of this loneliness you feel. The sun has left your skin in a reddish tint, and the looseness of clothing you carry around just screams how you’re ready for adventure. Chittaphon sent you a link to a few places he heard of from other friends, and that’s how you decided to go around. Eventually, you find yourself in an odd library that offers the sight of artifacts and statues, this is after scouring around looking for some place to eat. You haven’t heard from Jaehyun for the past three days either but you text him a good morning and a good night message each day, you think that the reason why he hasn’t been responding or updating you is probably because he’s too busy training - and it’s happened a lot anyway. So you resort to being on your phone less and try not to think about how much you miss him.

That is, until your phone starts ringing.

“Hello?” You don’t have to look at caller ID twice to know it’s Jaehyun, but the other line is silent. “Jaehyun?” Still no answer, but you don’t have it in you to end the call because it’s him calling.

“You’re looking at the displays of Artemis.” He says after a while.

“Hm,” you look around, and you think he’s only joking but you do notice the display incased in glass, “stalker.”

“And you’re holding a red leather bound book?” Jaehyun continues on but sounds unsure.

A ‘tsk’ leaves your lips, and suddenly you’re on panic mode. “It’s getting a little bit creepy.” You comment and he laughs, but this time it sounds louder than it’s naturally supposed to. So when you turn around to wonder what the hell’s wrong with your phone, you see Jaehyun standing there with his phone pressed up against his ear. You jump on to hug him, and you can feel the vibrations of his laughter. This is the last thing you ever expected. But apparently Jaehyun had to lie about having training; he was given some time off after exceeding his expected performance for the season, and this would be a good way to surprise you.

“Hey.” He peeks over to the book you’re holding: the myth of Icarus and Daedalus.

For a while you wonder if he’s really here, and in a deeper sense - you wonder how he’s your’s and how you ever ended up here. “You’re here.” You say, out of breath.

“I am, with you.” He smiles the smile you love the most.

“I love you.” You bury yourself into his chest, you want to bask yourself in his presence. How he’s here.

“I love you.”

Jung Jaehyun could never say he regretted flying too close to the sun, if it meant falling for you.

fin.

[bakugous-abs]

Ok so,, I'm not sure if this should be two separate asks but here goes - headcanon/scenario where a reader who has never really worked out her feelings crudely and unfiltered confesses to bakugou? How would he react? Does he know or have feelings for her too? Are they both super awkward or does he take the lead? Reader is a bit tsun and considers him a huge jerk so is really confused at how she also finds him hot. Possible scenario is during/after combat training? Much thankies :3

Enjoy!! I really liked this one and you hope you like what ive done with it. It turned out a bit long. Oops - Bomb

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Warm sun crashed down onto the training ground, pounding your skin with hot rays that forced your body to sweat. The drops flowed down your cheeks, dancing as the wind knocked them around, making them split and converge with each other till they reached your chin or the tip of your nose where they would drip onto the hard ground.

It sucked to be absolutely honest. The heat was draining as you were forced to move around, dodging massive explosions from a particularly angry training partner. His screams of irritation for you to fight him or die trying bounced off the buildings and into your ears, but they were barely processed in your head.

Bakugou Katsuki. Known asshole to all, a friend of very few, a lover to none. A relentless jerk who constantly bullied his classmates and his supposed childhood best friend. A boy who doesn't even bother to remember the names of those he may be working with in the future. An absolute dick.

He royally pisses you off. He saunters around school without a single care for those he bumps into like he's the best thing this school was graced with. 

And yet. He was extremely attractive. That can be seen by anyone. A strong body structure with an equally sharp face to pair with it. His muscles were extremely toned for a high schooler, and jaw line so incredibly sharp you might as well be able to get a paper cut on it. Skin clear of any blemishes with an ever so slight tan to compliment it.

He was incredibly hot. If only he had a personality to match. Though by the permanent scowl that was imprinted onto his face, you guess it was only expected that he was not very friendly.

You hated him.

So why was it that this asshole could make your stomach flutter, your heart palpitate, and get your cheeks to become a rosy pink whenever he talked to you?!

The scowl that had unknowingly made it onto your face became even more defined. A growl emanating from your throat as you dodged yet another attack thrown at you by the blond, just barely escaping with no more than a graze from a surprised attack from his other hand.

He had no qualms with beating the shit out of anyone he came across to prove his point that he was the top dog, no matter their size or gender. 

You hated how completely admirable it was.

Bakugou let out an angry yell, "Why aren't you fighting me?! Stop fucking dodging me!"

You gave into his request, and landed on all fours, unleashing your quirk. Your vocal cords twisted and lengthened, and you unleashed a powerful roar similar to that of a lion. The sound waves combined with the wind from your voice sent a swirling mass of wind that flew up several thin layers of dust and debris that had collected on the ground. Even a few whole rocks were picked up and flew directly at Bakugou, surprising him.

Truth be told he didn't expect you to obey immediately, and that was a miscalculation that ended in him getting flown back a few feet back. He barely had time to fix his standing on the uneven ground before you came out from the swirling wind, spinning towards him and sending a powerful punch directly into what you assumed was close to his gut.

However you were slow to react to an explosion he let off on your arm that had connected with him, and got burned pretty badly as he was sent flying. A short yell of pain erupted from your throat that sounded similar to the roar from before, your vocal cords not yet going back to the size of a humans. A few more seconds and they would be back to normal. 

The burn on your arm pounded with every beat of your heart, heat radiating off of it from the explosion. Your skin was smoking and the scent of burning flesh filled your nostrils. 

Rage filled your heart as you stared at it, but not because it hurt (even though it did), but because of the fact that he was just so quick thinking. You never would have thought to counteract that, not that you had the reaction time to do so. It was one more thing you admired about him that sent your heart racing whenever you watched him fight. 

You howled in rage in your head. He was so unbelievably admirable and yet such a pain in the fucking ass!

He used this time you were staring at your wound to blast back towards you from wherever he landed and recovered from and taking hold of your neck, pushing you harshly back into a building wall.

"So now you decide to fight back huh?! After avoiding my attacks like a scaredy cat-"

"I am not a scaredy cat you asshole!" You grabbed hold of his arm and hooked your leg under his own and pulled, simultaneously twisting your body and sending him underneath you. 

You could feel the dam of your feelings breaking with every violent touch you inflicted on each other. It seemed you both were venting your anger today. But what the hell was he angry about that he had to take it out on you for?!

"Don't you EVER assume you know how I'm feeling!" The first crack in your dam caused the emotional water behind it to spurt out, the words tumbling from your mouth. Your grip tightened on the collar of his hero outfit, a mix of rage and overwhelming sorrow filled your expression. "You don't know the first thing about what I feel towards you!"

Bakugou didn't expect such an emotional expression to decorate your face. In truth, it surprised him, and he hated the way it made both his heart and his stomach hurt. He was about to retaliate when you began to speak once more.

"I hate you so much! You're such an asshole to everybody! Even your childhood friend if you can even call him that!" You could feel his muscles stiffen at the obvious reference to Deku. "But I admire you in almost every way that I hate you and it makes me sick! I hate how I want to spend more time with you each and every day despite how I know you feel about me!" 

Everything was coming out, you couldn't cry and yet you felt an awful need to. You hated this. Why were you feeling this way?

A sudden slam to your back brought you back to reality. Bakugou had flipped you over, putting both his hands on either side of your head.

"Dont be a hypocrite and assume that you know how I feel about you dumbass! Have you jot fucking realized that I feel the same?! How could you be so smart and top of the line and yet so unbelievably dumb as well?! I feel the same way you do and it also pisses me off!"

You were stunned. He felt the same? What did that mean? How were you supposed to make sense of and know if that's a good thing if you didn't even know what the feelings meant!

And then it suddenly hit you like a truck. You liked him. You had a crush on him. And he had a crush on you too. You both liked each other. And it pissed the both of you off.

Good god you were so dumb.

"Fuck." You whispered. You did not have the mental capacity to deal with this.

"I quit! I tap out!" You yelled, pushing the blond off you with every ounce of strength you had, your adrenaline starting to wear off and the wound on your arm was finally starting to process in your head. You hissed in pain as you held your forearm to your chest and to your heart, trying to hide both of them from the outside world.

"What?! You can't just tap out loser! Come back here and fight me!!" And yelled, going up and grabbing your shoulder, but you slapped it away.

"If you hadn't noticed, baka, I don't want to fight you! Not after realizing I like you! You don't realize how much that hurts, do you?! Take a hint!" You roared at him twirling around, not actually angry but more than a bit defensive.

There was silence behind you for a few seconds as you walked back to the school, hoping to get first aid, until you heard footsteps catch up to you and walk beside you, a gasp escaping your lips when you felt something brush against your hand.

"Dumbass." he grumbled. "Assuming what I'm feeling again." Was all he said as he walked close to you, sticking by your side the rest of the walk back, his pinky curled around your own in a small display of affection. Your heart beat fast, and a blush showed upon your cheeks. You looked the opposite direction.

"Dummy"

[vercopaanir]

He Would Never

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 6

Masterlist for this series

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: The Mandalorian is on a hunt for a bounty, and while you recuperate, you struggle with your protective feelings over him and the child.

Ratings/Warnings: None. If I do miss something, please let me know!

Notes: This chapter ended up being so long that I split it in two! It was really fighting me, so I’m very self-conscious about this one. The next chapter is going to be a bit of a punch in the gut (in a good way?), if I’ve gauged things right. Thank you to everyone who’s been reading, tagging, commenting, and reblogging!!!

AO3

When you explain how you came by the pain in your side, the physician helps you out of your dress to examine you. You suck in a breath when her cold fingers tap along your back and up to your ribs, feeling the tender skin where bruises have started forming. She deduces quickly, trauma to the area of your back having caused significant nerve pain. All you remember is watching the Mandalorian with his son, so gentle and attentive that you forgot yourself. You’d been content in the warmth of their laughter, softened by the affection, and then harsh red lights and blaring alarms and-

“Spend time being thrown against walls?” the doctor asks, her light and teasing voice bringing you back to the present. You turn your head towards her as she moves your shoulders to the left and right to check your flexibility.

“Well...” you puff, face pinched with pain, considering the story that got you into this.

Shaking her head, she sets to work and makes a quick job out of you, narrating every step to keep you aware of what’s going on. “I’m using a micro-sonic vibration injector to administer an analgesic. The pain you’re feeling should disappear in a minute or so.” 

You don’t even feel the injection, which she administers into the fleshy curve of your waist before you can question her about it. She applies a healing sheath around your abdomen after that, and she instructs you not to remove it for a full twenty-four hours. You use your fingers to feel the edges where it lays flat, beneath your bust and down your abdomen to create a comfortable seal that still allows you to move. The sweat on your brow is quickly cooling as the discomfort recedes to a dull ache, as if you’d been struck in the side rather than stabbed by the control switch.

“I’m giving you two sterile heating cloths to sleep with. Try to lay as flat as you can so you don’t put pressure unevenly on your back. Make sure you don’t accidentally lay on anything,” she said, placing the packaged cloths in your hands after you pull your dress back up. “Or anyone,” she adds with a smile.

You blush at that, smiling in understanding, and nod.

Stepping behind you, she helps straighten the collar of your dress before saying, “You know, that hunter who brought you in was quite worried about you.”

You shut your eyes in mortification, rubbing between your eyebrows. Maker, what must he think? It’s been so long since you’ve fallen, not since you were younger and at least a foot shorter. You’re so careful now, and your pride is wounded to think of him treating you like glass, skittish and scared. Your fingers tighten around the cloths she’s given you.

“Pestered some of my staff for a while until he finally left. Wouldn’t sit down. It was making people anxious, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Your stomach tightens at her words, and it’s all you can do to meet her face with your own as you turn around. “He has a lot on his mind,” you mutter, thinking of the child sleeping so quietly back aboard the ship. You can’t stand it knowing he’s alone, and the longer you linger, the worse you feel.

The doctor hums, and you think she must be smiling when she says, “Seems to me you were the only thing on his mind.” 

Her words echo in your ears as you step outside, blinking in the bright sunlight. An odd, prickly emotion builds in your chest as you ruminate, because you know the Mandalorian has the capacity for compassion. His care and love for the child alone are evidence of that, but you wonder where you fall on that scale. You are both a boon as the child’s caretaker and a liability as an extra item on his list to be concerned about. This entire fiasco won’t endear you, and you’re upset with yourself all over again. The confusing feelings sliding back and forth like an uneven scale cause your head to hurt, and the bright sunlight of Tatooine hardly does you any favors.

It takes stopping and asking a pedestrian where the hangar is located before you can make your way to it, and when you enter through the same door the Mandalorian had shouldered you through, the mechanic pops up from being seated at a small table surrounded by her pit droids. 

You come to a stop, your heart dropping on the sandy ground when you see the child in her arms.

“He, uh, found some work. Said he’d be back,” the woman says, bouncing the child, but by the fussy noises he’s making, you know she’s been unsuccessful wooing him to sleep. “The Mandalorian, I mean.”

Your eyes trail to the dark shadow of the Razor Crest, unable to make anything out besides the black, blurry shape of it, before looking back at the child. 

“You two shouldn’t leave your baby alone. A little one like this needs someone to take care of him,” she went on with a disapproving huff, and it was all you could do to stay standing upright from seeing a stranger cradle the child. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t sit well with you.

“May I...please have him?” you ask, holding your arms out and stepping closer. You feel like demanding she give you the baby, a panic ready to bubble in your throat that’s been lying in wait since the dogfight between the Mandalorian and the starfighter. But you can’t bring yourself to it. Your natural inclination has always been pacific, polite, and you don’t like the idea of making enemies.

“Oh...oh sure,” she says, quickly putting the child in your arms. The baby curls into you instinctively, pressing his face near your collar and fluttering his ears in happiness at your familiar scent. You drop down into one of the seats between two of the pit droids, winded and exhausted. The healing sheath keeps you from slumping in any way, but it also prevents the discomfort you felt before from returning. You hug the baby close, laying your cheek against the small wrinkled brow, and close your eyes against the prickle of tears forming under your lashes as relief washes over you.

“I’m Peli, by the way,” the woman says, stepping back to her seat and sounding suddenly unsure.

“Thank you, Peli,” you murmur, smiling when the child grabs a lock of your hair like an object of security. You open your eyes, pale and sightless as they are, and try to meet her own. You are often told you are always just a little off from holding eye contact, but you still try. “I didn’t want to leave him alone, but-”

“Nah, I get it,” Peli says quickly. If you didn’t know better, she seemed uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. “You didn’t look so great before…” She pauses, leaning forward urgently. “He didn’t do that to you, did he?”

You can’t keep the laugh from bursting from your mouth, and it takes you physically putting your hand over your lips to stop yourself, on the edge of exhausted hysteria. “N-No,” you finally say, swallowing hard. “No, he would never.” 

The words hold more truth than you intended, and you’re surprised by them yourself.

“Well, good.” She sits back, satisfied with this answer if put off by your outburst. She cocks her head to the side and says, “Fed him a little while ago. You hungry? You look pale.”

“Oh, I’m alright now,” you say, brushing your fingers over the child’s forehead. “Thank you.”

The truth was, you were spent. If you could lay down, in that moment, you knew you wouldn’t wake up for hours, but the time spent away from the child had unsettled you. Knowing he was alone, and then returning to find a stranger holding him sent a bolt through you that wouldn’t easily be shaken. Even if Peli was a good person, it leaves you feeling discomfited, and you aren’t sure that sensation would go away until the Mandalorian returns. Being at the mercy of others never felt good, but it was all you’d ever known. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like to feel secure no matter where you are. You think the Mandalorian must know what that feels like.

You were also starved for interaction. As Peli went on to say you should at least try to drink some tea, snapping at one of the pit droids to fetch it, you realize that even if she just simply spoke to you, the presence of someone else felt nice, at least for a while. 

“You’re very kind,” you murmur, letting the child sit properly in your lap as you pick up the clay cup with a warm, floral note in the steam. You take careful sips, the soothing sensation relaxing your shoulders.

Peli hesitates. “Started working on your ship. Fixed the fuel leak, at least, but it’s got plenty more fixing to do.” You nod, listening attentively as you continue to sip. “I’m guessing he’s good for the money, since he’s got a couple mouths to feed.”

You set the cup down and nod. “He is. Where did he go? Did he say where he found work?”

“Well, he set off on a speeder bike with some young kid. Probably your age. They were making their way out towards the Dune Sea,” she pauses here, rubbing her chin. “He told me to tell you not to wait up.”

A smile curves your lips, thinking of the last time you’d tried and failed to wait up for him. Then, a small thought that he could be gone overnight occurs to you, and you frown, rubbing your arm.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“What’s someone like you doing with someone like him?” 

The question is not what you were expecting, and the surprise must show on your face. You rest your hands on either side of the baby, furrowing your brow. “I’m...sorry?”

“I mean-” Peli’s frowning, now, you can hear it. She slaps her hands on her knees. “Bounty hunters aren’t really known for being friendly. When you two stepped off that ship, I thought he’d kidnapped you. You seem like such a nice girl.”

Your response is immediate. “And he’s a nice man.”

“You sure about that?” Peli challenges, and your hackles go up. Your social capacity is quickly filling as your energy wanes, and you wish once again that you hadn’t gotten hurt in such a stupid way. It isn’t as if you ran for miles or got stabbed. Maker, you fell over. “Look, I didn’t mean to step on your toes,” she says when you’re silent for too long. “I’m just...surprised, is all.”

“I was a slave,” you say quietly, feeling your heart quicken to utter the words out loud. You had gone for so long without saying it that it felt like a sacrilege. “To a man on a planet closer to the rim. Before that, I was an indentured servant to an Imperial family, and-” You stop, feeling a tiny three fingered hand rest on your wrist. You look down to find the child staring up at you, his small mouth pursed in worry. You smile at him, lifting your other fingers to trace his ear. “-and the Mandalorian freed me, when he could have walked away. I don’t know why he did it, but it is the first kindness I have known in a long time.”

“That’s a fine thing to do,” Peli allows, her voice shrewd. “And you’ve never asked him why he did it?” 

“I assume he needed someone to take care of this sweet thing,” you say, tracing the shape of the baby’s ear and smiling wider when he sighs against your hand. “That’s what has made the most sense to me.”

“Well, you seem to be doing right by the little one. Just don’t let that bucket head leave him alone anymore,” Peli adds, standing up and stretching her back. You smile good-naturedly and nod, standing up yourself. 

“I think I’m going to rest. If he comes back, will...will you tell him that I’d like to see him?”

Peli pauses, hesitating at your turn of phrase.

You snort and wave your hand. “You know what I mean,” you say, walking off towards the Razor Crest.

“Right! Sure!” she calls, sounding anything but.

You climb aboard the ship, managing to make it up the ladder and shuffle into the cockpit with the baby in your arms. It takes you longer than normal to get him to relax, even once you’ve tried to tuck him in. Perhaps he’s still keyed up from all the excitement of the day, from meeting new people? You sigh, kneeling by the co-pilot chair that holds his cradle, and you begin stroking his ear. When his movements slow, a little smile curves your lips, and you start to hum. It isn’t any particular song-you don’t know many-but the combination of gentle touches and a soothing voice has his big, blinking eyes slowly drooping. Soon, the only sound in the cockpit is the soft snores coming from his tiny nose and mouth, and you step out into the passageway once you’re sure he won’t wake up.

The pain in your side has all but disappeared, only a faint tugging sensation when you move too quickly. You consider going back down into the hull to sleep in the bunk, but the thin padding of the cot providing no support doesn’t inspire your enthusiasm. Perhaps you could use your next bit of earnings to invest in better sleeping arrangements.

An idea strikes you, then, remembering when the Mandalorian crossed into the room across from the cockpit to dig out the cloak you’d borrowed on Quanera. Perhaps you can find something else to pad the cot with.

It takes you a few moments to find the door’s access panel, but when you open it and step inside, you’re hit with icy air. It’s completely dark, and you frown gently as you walk forward. The room itself is small, which is unsurprising for such a ship as the Razor Crest, but what does surprise you is when your legs bump into a short ledge. You nearly fall face first forward and catch yourself with your hands, landing on something...very soft.

A bed.

A real bed.

The sheets are tucked in military fashion without a wrinkle, a thick woolen blanket folded at the end. There’s one pillow, plump and firm, without any indentation. You realize you’re in the Mandalorian’s quarters and shoot up straight, biting your lip. 

Considering your own bunk, you trail your fingers over the soft sheets and sigh with longing.

You shouldn’t. You should really sleep in your own bed where he told you to stay on your first day aboard-or even moreso, in the cockpit with the child. Even though the air is frigid in this room, you have the sterile heating cloths and the softness beneath your fingers is more tempting to your body than any sin you could have committed.

Mesh’la, he called you, and you don’t know what it means, but the memory makes your heart ache. It’s a decision in itself.

It takes only a small bit of fumbling with your dress to pull it over your head, and you lay it across the foot of the bed, slipping your boots off quickly after. You’re left in a thin tunic and your underclothes, the healing sheath still hugging you around your middle. By the time you climb beneath the sheets and pull the blanket around you, the cold air has chilled you through, but the heating cloths on your back and side warm you up. You sigh in relief, allowing your body to sink into the cushioned mattress, and your head falls back onto the pillow. You’ve left the door open for a bit of light, and to make it easier for the child to find you, but it doesn’t truly chase away the scent lingering under your nose.

Forest and skin and soap, you think, having smelled it so many times passing by his beskar. It’s faint, though, and you wonder when the last time it was he allowed himself this bit of comfort. The room felt uninhabited. You knew for a fact he often slept in the pilot’s chair, near the child, and as your eyes begin to fall shut, you promise yourself to make sure he sleeps in it from now on.

-

Mesh’la - Mando’a for “beautiful”

Taglist: @lavenderl3mons​, @itzagoodthing​, @letaliabane​, @yodaswrinkles​, @kateb013​, @catsnkooks​

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[weasleypogues]

caught (j.b.r)

so thankfully someone pointed out to me that i completely misread a request and mixed it up so here is a sistermaybank x john b!! im so sorry to whoever requested it but i hope u enjoy this one!!

i kinda got a little carried away and made this very long so bear with me

master list.

having jj maybank as your older brother came with everything you would expect. you did crazy shit with no repercussions or care. but there were other times where you would balance each other out because, at one point, someone had to use their senses and be the rational sibling. you two shared so much in your life that it was difficult to even think of doing things without him by your side.

however, one of those things you did without him was to date his best friend, john b. but hey, it’s not like you and john b weren’t friends initially either. when jj and john b first became friends, you weened yourself right in like the annoying little sister because you admired your brother and were basically attached at the hip. you liked the idea of having your own personal bodyguards but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t rock someone’s shit when you got the chance. but most of the time you preferred love not war, unlike jj.

when you and john b first got together, it felt like walking on eggshells. you’d tread lightly and watch your words carefully around jj and the rest of the pogues. yes, you trusted kie and pope with your lives, but it wasn’t fair to make them carry around that secret for the sake of your relationship. you weren’t sure why you kept it a secret from jj. i mean if he chose john b to be his best friend, that had to mean that jj found john b’s qualities and loyalty worthwhile and admirable. 

what you wouldn’t admit to john b, and barely wanted to admit to yourself was a different reason to not tell jj. because jj wasn’t the only person you were keeping this a secret from. you wouldn’t dare tell your father that you were dating someone. because someway, somehow, he would make that the reason to stir the pot to you, jj, or both. you would hate yourself if you were the reason for another bruise on your or jj’s body. so, altogether you decided it was best to keep it a secret to prevent anyone from getting hurt. 

it was a saturday morning when you woke up to a text from john b, you smiled to yourself at the mere thought of him. meet me at the chateau in an hour. you quickly hopped out of bed and went to pack a bag for the day. as you weaved through empty beer bottles and random trash on the floor, you tiptoed to not wake your father up. you peaked quietly into jj’s room and saw he was passed out as well, taking a mental note to leave him a post-it or send him a text to wake up to to let him know you were going to be gone when he woke up. 

after brushing your teeth and throwing on a bathing suit and a pair of shorts, all you needed was your phone and a water bottle from the fridge. treading lightly on the creaky floors, you began to walk towards the kitchen until you heard footsteps from behind you. your hands got sweaty and your heart sunk into your stomach.

“where you goin’ this early in the morning?” you father said to you in a husky and slurred voice. 

“just out with a friend on their boat for the day.” you responded with a slight smile to play it nonchalantly. if your father saw anything but a content look on your face, you knew he would pick apart your emotions and facial expression if you didn’t act like everything was a-okay. 

“who’s this friend?” your father interrogated, with an unpleased look on his face. you soon came to realize that no matter how normal you acted, he would still be the same old jerk no matter what. “is it a friend that left this in your room a couple of days ago? because i sure as hell know this don’t belong to you.” 

you saw his hand lift up a dirty and slightly faded black bandana, wrapped around his knuckles. fuck. 

“oh my friend gave it to me one day actually-” you responded quickly and nervously. it felt like your body went numb because you knew that there was no way in hell that this situation would end well.

“don’t lie to me, (y/n)!” your father yelled, with a look on his face that you knew too well but it would still leave you frozen in fear. it seemed a lot of the time that jj was the one to fight back because jj could take punches here and there and put on a front for everybody. you weren’t gifted with easily putting on a facade like he was so you would try your absolute hardest to extend the argument long enough that eventually your father would just knock out from the alcohol and that would be the end of it. 

“what the hell is going on?” jj walked out of his room with a tank top and shorts on, rubbing his eyes to get adjusted to the extreme sunlight in the living room. 

“is this yours, boy?!” your father raised the bandana higher and his face got redder as his eyes pierced themselves into jj’s path. jj quickly shook his head. he has no idea why his father brought this up to him but jj had no other reason to lie about it not being john b’s because yet again, no one knew of what was happening between you and john b.

“it’s john b’s.” jj answered, almost like a cadet to a colonel, following orders and meaning no disprespect. although jj wanted to disrespect his father to the end of the world for everything he put you two through. however, once those words came out of jj’s mouth you knew everything from here on out would be completely downhill. 

“it was in your sisters room actually.” you didn’t dare look around at jj. you could only handle one glare at a time from this family. although, you were surprised to hear jj back you up.

“dad, she can do what she wants.” jj responded, with no emotion to not set him off. however, whatever anyone responded with was going to stir the pot. 

“don’t talk back to me, you little shit!” you father huskily shouted at your brother. he took a couple steps towards jj and you knew this was going to get physical. you allowed the tears to well up in your eyes for the millionth time if your life because of him. 

you quickly whipped around and your blurry vision made it hard to see who was throwing what punches. it wasn’t until one loud thud to the ground was when you realize that jj had knocked your father out and looked up at you, blood dripping from his lip and nose. 

“let’s get out of here.” jj blankly stated and you nodded quickly as you ran to get your backpack and phone and basically booked it, trailing behind jj’s footsteps. you figured that his feet were taking him to the exact place that john b had told you to meet him: the chateau. you weren’t sure if this was the best idea or the worst. jj used the chateau as his safe space after things would get bad with your dad but you weren’t sure if that was the case this time or he was on a mission to find out why john b’s bandana was found in your room. 

you anxiously picked at your cuticles with your hands to your sides, nervous to hear the first word that would be spoken between you two. but you knew it had to come eventually but you didn’t know if you had the guts to be the first one.

“explain to me why the bandana was in your room.” jj asked, his voice softer than you expected but when you looked slightly up at him, his jaw was clenched and his eyes stayed darted in front of him as you two continued to walk. 

“i don’t know how you want me to answer this.” you responded, with your head slightly down because if jj looked over at you, you couldn’t look him in the eyes after he took a beating because your dad decided to snoop in your room. 

you weren’t sure how long you were walking and how long the pauses were in between each thing spoken but you ended up at john b’s house in no time. your eyes glanced up as you saw your boyfriend hop down his front steps and give you two a smile before his faced dropped seeing 1. your terrified face, 2. jj’s bruised and bloody face, and 3. the fact that he only invited his girlfriend over so why was his best friend here looking like he was going to rock his shit? 

“uhh, hey guys...” john b greeted, unsure how to approach the situation. when his eyes flickered to yours for a split second, you just gave him wide eyes back because you too were unsure about how to even begin. 

“are you dating my fucking sister?” jj asked, shoving john b slightly. john b stumbled behind as his jaw slightly dropped and he put his hands up in defense. this was your cue to go and try to break it up.

“no man! i mean yes but like we can explain!” john b responded, seemingly coming up with the worst responses ever when confronted with something like this. you weened your way to stand in between them.

“yes jj, we are dating! can you let us explain?” you practically yelled because you knew if you spoke in a normal tone, that anything you say would not get through to him because of the blood pounding in his ears from adrenaline. and because he would probably ignore you regardless. 

“no! there’s nothing to explain. this is clearly a secret you two fucking kept from me for how long? a month? two months? more? jesus christ if it’s any more i’m punching your teeth in, john b.” jj exclaimed, as his jaw clenched even harder and the veins on his forhead became more prominent. 

“just two months! okay?! can we all calm down and talk about this like regular people?” you slightly pushed jj, not letting him get any closer to john b. you were always afraid of this outcome but you never pictured it being like this. “you can’t just go around hitting people when things don’t go your way! just pull a ‘dad’ while your at it and beat the shit out of your best friend.” 

“don’t bring dad into this (y/n).” jj said through clenched teeth, although his face softened at the idea of you comparing him to your father. it was jj’s fear to resemble any quality that your father had and to hear that come out of his little sisters mouth hurt him. 

“look i didn’t mean it like you were dad. but clearly it doesn’t work when you both think violence is the answer. so can we just sit down and we’ll explain everything to you?” you asked, your voice softening as you threw your hands to the side in defeat. jj took a deep breath in before flickering his eyes between you and john b. he just nodded in silence and he lead the way to john b’s front porch and sat on the couch. jj simply waved his hand in the air, prompting you two to explain. 

you took a deep breath and let everything spill. you and john b had kept the secret from him because you were scared of how he was going to react. you two basically kept it a secret from everyone to spare them any stress. and you spilled to the both of them that you were keeping it a major secret because if somehow, someway, word got back to your father that you were dating someone, he would lose his shit. 

“look, me and john b didn’t plan for this to be the way you found out. and i didn’t plan for this to be the way that dad found out. and if i could go back i’d tell you immediately to save you from what happened back there. but i can’t. just know that i love you and john b. you’re my brother for fuck’s sake. your feelings matter the world to me but i also wanted to take myself into perspective and make myself happy. we aren’t doing this to punish you whatsoever, i did it because i can’t see myself dating anyone else.”

and with that you grabbed john b’s hand and rubbed your thumb back and forth on the back of his while he squeezed yours in response. jj lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair with his free ones and let out a deep breath he had been holding in.

“i really love your sister, man. i would die than let anything hurt her and would beat myself up if i was the one who did. i couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.” john b said, with the most sincere tone. a long, deafening silence followed and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

“look...you guys are going to have to let me get used to this. i know you guys’ve been together for a while but ease it up in front of me, this is all just like super weird for me right now. i guess i should be happy that it’s john b and not some douchebag kook.” jj responded, rubbing his hand over his face because he felt overwhelmed. “and as for dad, i’m sorry it went that way. but next time there’s a secret like this, you can tell me. i’m blood for fucks sake.” 

you gave your older brother a small smile and nod before getting up and taking a couple steps towards him. your approach quickly prompted him up and you pulled him in for a hug. 

“not too much pda in front of me also. and i’m keeping a hawks eye watch on you, john b. thin ice, brother, thin ice.” jj said, pointing his two fingers to his eyes and that pointing them at john b. you laughed and slightly shoved jj.

“gotcha, bro.” john b responded chuckling and than gave jj a bro shake. 

“soo... boat day?” you spoke up sheepishly, hoping to start the day fresh as you gave puppy-dog eyes to your brother and boyfriend. 

“you call kie, i’ll call pope and then we’ll head out.” jj answered as you excitedly pulled out your phone to call kie. as you placed the ringing phone up to your ear you felt a kiss on the top of your head and an arm snake around your waist.

“at least it’s out of the way now.” john b whispered to you, as you nodded and looked up at him before kissing him. 

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Don’t Be Over Me

John Wick x Reader (A/n-this should have been the third part of The Arrangement, but I got distracted and ended up writing this)

Warnings- Angst 

Blinking slowly, Y/n hoped the motion would brush the hurt out of her eyes while the long sip of her martini would numb the ache in her heart. Why wasn’t he hurting too? Hadn’t he ever cared, or had they simply been words cast out to reel her in? She wished she knew; Y/n definitely had the courage to kill a man with her bare hands, but approach John after they’d broken up? She could never. 

It happened a month ago, but still, it hurt like hell, and didn’t help that John seemed to have already been over her. Their break-up had been his idea- if it were up to Y/n, they’d still be together, but John had pushed her away, with the flimsy explanation that he wasn’t looking for a commitment. He’d tried once and it hadn’t turned out the way he had expected, and now that John was back in the life, the last thing he wanted was to be attached. Y/n though, Y/n loved John, adored him, messy, bloody past and all; she’d had the same kind, though unlike him, she wanted more than a casual, label-less involvement. But instead of trying with her, John had chosen his own path, walking out of her house without even a second thought.

It killed her, more and more everyday, but Y/n had done her best to put on a brave face. Even if he’d broken her down, shredded her heart, Y/n wasn’t going to let it show. If she did, she’d feel like she’d lost somehow, like it was just a game; John would ruin her and then they’d see who was better at coping. Arguably, he had an advantage. 

In his life, John had done a  lot, more than most, he'd killed, survived, made hard calls, loved and lost. He'd made countless decisions, and had regretted few. At first, breaking up with Y/n was just like that, a decision that he wouldn't regret; he loved her, but she wanted commitment and something that was lasting. But John wasn't ready for that, it had only been a couple years after Helen and he'd only just rediscovered stable ground in the criminal underworld, so naturally, cutting off their relationship seemed like the best way to go. At first, it was okay, she was better off without him anyway. But then it happened, maybe he'd have been okay if he hadn't been there right at that very moment, that movie moment, where one party regretted everything that had led to that very specific moment;

She laughed.

And because the world was a cruel, cold, unforgiving place, it just had to be genuine, full bodied, melodious laughter. She’d thrown her head back, loose tresses grazing the navy silk fabric constituting the back of her blouse and her eyes slipping closed, long, dark lashes fanning the tops of her cheeks. John hadn’t seen Y/n laugh like that since their split, and when it happened, and he realized he wasn’t the one making her rousing that reaction, in fact, he wasn’t even privy to the reason. That was how disconnected he was from her. Really, it should have been okay, it was what John thought he wanted. 

But instead, it hurt, like hell. Like someone had punched him in the gut then drove a knife through his chest.

After that evening, in the Continental's lobby, when she was checking out and he was checking in, every time John saw her, the knife turned; slow enough so he’d be sure to soak up every agonizing ounce of pain. He’d let Y/n go, and now, she was okay without him.

All while he was falling to pieces.

He’d never let her see though. 

That was why he was sat at the bar in the Continental’s lounge, fingers loosely closed around a half-finished, crystal glass of his favorite bourbon, stealing glances at her through the maze of patrons, as Y/n sat in a secluded booth, all by herself with a martini. John knew exactly how that martini was made; gin, always gin, never vodka, top shelf vermouth and a twirl of lemon peel instead of an olive. He recognized the dress she was wearing too; a short, black, velvet strapless one that hugged her curves and rode up her thighs when she sat. Her hair was held up in a high ponytail, strategic strands falling over her face and boasting her diamond earrings, she hardly ever wore her hair like that, but John always thought it looked nice when she did. But that night, Y/n looked better than nice, better than pretty or beautiful. She looked exceptionally stunning. Unattainably gorgeous. Light years better than he deserved. 

And she was perfectly fine.

No quiet tears or sunken eyes. No paled cheeks or quivering lips. No sniffles or fidgety posture. Instead, Y/n was okay. Sipping her drink without a care in the world, leaned back into the leather upholstered cushions with her legs crossed and her stoic gaze cast towards the uncaring sea of people. Occasionally, someone would stop by and she’d trade hushed words with them, sometimes chuckling quietly, other times just offering a soft little quirk of her deep red lips, waving briefly as they’d leave her to return to disturbed solitude. 

It was wrong, and utterly selfish, but John hated seeing Y/n like that. He hated that she was okay while he felt like he was dying inside. At least if she wasn’t, he could somehow summon up the courage to walk up to and admit defeat. Say the words that would ensure things went back to the way they were, “I’m sorry, I made a mistake.” But surely, he couldn’t do that when Y/n didn’t even seem to miss him. As far as he could tell, the only person John had hurt was himself. 

What was her secret for getting over him so quickly? 

Didn’t she ever love him?

When, eventually a man, younger than him but still older than Y/n, one he didn’t know very well, stopped at her table, talking for a bit before sliding in next to her, John’s stolen glances turned into a full on stare. At times, when some unknowing person or the other would temporarily interrupt his sight, John would groan quietly, hoping they’d somehow get the message and move out of his way. He needed to see. She couldn’t be over him that quickly.

But Y/n was.

Because soon chatting turned into low whispers, with heads drawn in, and then, whispers turned into huddling, and huddling turned into his lips on her neck. John had kissed her neck, as she emitted hitched, low breaths and soft pleading moans. His lips had traveled down her neck, slow, with his hot breath fanning her pulse erotically, just the way she liked it. He’d tasted Y/n’s skin, felt its softness and sought haven in her warmth. Her fingers had threaded through his hair and her bare leg, brushing his thigh had awoken something in him that John hadn’t felt in years. It was never just sex, it more than that, all encompassing, protective, soothing, it was love. 

And John had thrown it away, just so he could see her tangled up with someone else in a low lit bar. Her was drink forgotten, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure as Y/n’s new companion let his hand paw at her waist. Maybe to John it looked more provocative than it was. Maybe he was just a jealous, sore loser who couldn’t stand seeing the woman he loved give herself to someone else.

Maybe he was just too weak to have kept her.

But ‘maybe’ didn’t matter. Because it was actually happening, she had actually moved on. And now, she was letting her new friend urge her out of the seat, taking his hand as they weaved through the masses. And for a split second, John thought that their eyes met, just as she was being gently pulled along. There was no emotion in her stare though, it was brief and cold, yet John was anything but grateful when he was wretched out by a hand on his arm and a voice interrupting his thoughts, “Hey you.”

It was Addy, old friend and flame. In another life, she might have been the one that got away, but by then, the title had gone to Y/n. “Hey,” he pretended to clear his throat with purpose, turning to face her.

“On the house,” Addy, winked, topping off John’s drink, watching with dilated pupils as he downed it in one go, setting the glass to the counter with a thump, drowned out by the edgy jazz, “You know,” she dragged her lower lip through her teeth seductively, “My shifts a couple minutes from being over, and it's been a while since we hung out.”

John suppressed a smirk, Addy was always one to get to the point. Unfortunately though, John didn’t think he could bring himself to enjoy the company of another that night, “I think I’m just going to turn in,” he slid off the bar stool, fishing through his pockets for a gold coin, “Goodnight Addy,” nodded, slipping it onto the marble top.

“I told you,” she gleamed, sliding it back towards John, “On the house,” that was when she got closer, leaning over, probably standing on her toes so their faces would be within a hair of each other’s, “And Y/n’s already over you, maybe you should let me help you get over her.”

The smell of her perfume, mixing with the heady fragrance of booze was enticingly intoxicating, and John found himself drawing towards Addy. Their lips brushed, though just barely, not really in a kiss, but with enough contact to ignite the first sparks of lust. Besides, maybe if he kept his eyes close and her mouth shut, he could probably fool himself into thinking it was Y/n. “How long?”

“I can be done now,” she tossed a dish towel to the bar top, walking towards the edge so she could slip out and join him on the other side, “Let’s go,” Addy offered her hand, and when John took it, he kept his lips sealed, knowing that the sooner he sunk into the fantasy, they better.

Nothing. That was what he’d offered in his unaffected gaze when their eyes locked. It was what he’d shown when Y/n started leaving the lounge with a man who’s name she hadn’t even registered. John Wick had acted like Y/n was nothing to him when he took Addy’s hand, ready to leave himself. 

Not that she should have been surprised. 

And the worst part? Y/n still couldn’t even bring herself to hate him. In fact, she was jealous, she wanted him to hurt, for his heart to bleed and match hers. She wanted him to sulk up to her and apologize, just so she could tell him to ‘fuck off,’ only to take him back in the end. She wanted something. Anything but more heartache. But that was all John seemed to give her.

Maybe she was better off without him after all.

As Y/n let her mystery man lead her to the elevator, all she could think of was what John was doing with Addy. Were they just going to drink, she knew they had a history, so maybe they were going to do more. It was a dry, hard pill to swallow; the thought of John with another woman, sharing what they once did. Him, touching Addy the way he touched her, kissing Addy the way he kissed her, making Addy feel the things John had made her feel. It wasn’t fair, Y/n wanted that, she wanted that and more. She wanted to love him. 

The cool reflective doors of the elevator opened with an automatic ding, leaving Y/n and her companion to stagger out and towards his room at the end of the hall. By the time he was shutting the door behind them, there was barely a moment to slap the light switch before he was pawing hungrily at the hem of her dress, carnal desire over taking his being. With her fingers tangled in his short shock of dark hair, Y/n fought to sink into the moment, pressing his face to her chest as he crouched lower. But even as she stumbled backwards into the made bed, letting him nearly fall on top of her, still fighting clumsily to get her dress off, Y/m couldn’t do it. It didn’t feel right.

He, whoever he was, didn’t feel right.

His touch floundered about her body, quite unlike the way John's just glided across her skin. His kisses were far too sloppy, noisily trailing down the column of her neck, and all in all, he was in too much of a hurry. On top of that, it was hard to get out of her head, to accept that for a while, that might be her new reality, hook-ups with random men in an attempt to fill a John shaped void, nights spent with someone who seemed woefully inexperienced in savoring pleasure, or worst yet, with the kind of man that didn’t really care too.  

“Stop,” Y/n managed, suddenly shoving him off, immediately standing and regaining composure. Before the very confused man could protest, or even try to convince Y/n to stay, she was cutting him off, “This isn’t gonna work,” she huffed, readjusting the top of her dress, making sure that everything was in its place, “I should go,” and without another word, she turned on her heel, brushing a couple escaped tears away from her lids. 

Sniffing, Y/n stumbled out of the suit, shutting the door behind her, simultaneously as someone else a few doors down did the same. Her breath shook quietly, and she kept her head down, more interested in getting back to her room than seeing who it was. But apparently, they couldn’t condone her unspoken plea to be left alone, and tentatively, they interrupted her walk back to the elevator,  “Are you okay?”

Gasping quietly, Y/n jumped as she looked up at him. John. Looking quite unlike they way he’s looked back at the bar. His eyes were dimmed and his lips agape with surprise. “I….” Y/n trailed off, unable to offer more. Seeing him like that, with the hurt clearly painted on his rugged, handsomely worn features wasn’t half as satisfying as she’d imagine it would be. All of a sudden, she didn’t want to yell, scream or cause a row. She didn’t want him to break down a cry either. Instead, she wanted to make it better, wanted to hold him, tell him that despite it all, she still loved him with her whole heart. “No,” she finally sighed, her breath hitching in a quiet, broken sob, “I’m not.”

John’s eyes shone with mirrored pain, and he sniffled quietly as he slipped his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel to slowly approach her. For the first time, he seemed to be letting his guard down, showing everything that he’d kept hidden from the world. John wasn’t fine, he wasn’t okay, and certainly wasn’t over Y/n. “Neither am I,” he shook his head, his gaze panning to his feet before once again meeting Y/n’s. “It was a mistake,” they were closer than a foot apart by then, and all Y/n wanted to do was melt into his arms.

“Do you miss me?” Her inquiry was sorrowful, and Y/n’s lips quivered. Inside, she knew that if his response anything opposing a ‘yes’ would completely shatter her.

“Everyday,” John stepped closer, reaching for her waist in a leap of faith He seemed almost surprised when Y/n didn’t recoil or shove him away, the way he thought he deserved, “I was wrong Y/n. I don’t want casual, I’m ready for more. But only if it's with you. Please don’t be over me,” he pleaded with soft urgency

“I’m not, bu I don’t want you to just say that just-”

“This isn’t like that,” John interrupted, his eyes begging her to believe him, “I miss you so much Y/n. And it kills me to think that you could be happy without me, because I don’t remember how to be happy without you. I love you, and I promise, I just need one more chance to prove that this is exactly what I want.”

“Promise?” And John’s answer wasn’t verbal. Instead, he kissed her, deep and true, as if it was the last thing he’d ever do. Their tears mixed and Y/n felt like she was sharing the sheds of her soul with John, like they were pouring themselves into each other with just that one kiss. Shared breaths, salty tears and muffled noises held them together, reminding them both that it was always meant to be like that. 

There was no one else she wanted to kiss, there never would be.

“I promise,” cupping her face, John kept their foreheads close, the tips of their noses touching, just before he went in for another kiss, letting the walls around them fade away as they melded in to each other.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana   @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[queenk00k]

but what if we were pure gold all along? jj maybank (chapter 2)

Summary: After the assumed death of their best friend, the Pogues are falling apart at the seams. With Pope and Kiara getting closer and JJ left with nowhere to go, he finds himself left to his own devices. Feeling lost and rejected, his luck seems to turn when he meets Scarlett - a Kook who doesn’t treat him like shit and has an affinity for partying. JJ gets sucked into her world as she promises to help him forget.

How much longer can he keep running from his demons? And what happens when he starts sharing a bed with one?

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, child abuse, angst, sexual content, drug use, underage drinking.

Author’s note: Hi all, this is my multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on. My oneshots & Rafe series have taken off so I thought it was time to share this one too. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 1.9K

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

the one where those damn kooks are charming when they want to be

JJ had never really gotten used to a beating. He knew when to expect one, based off Luke’s mood when he got home, the glint in his eye, the way his tone changed when he spoke to him. Thanks to being scared shitless of his dad for the majority of his childhood, JJ was well attuned to the subtleties of other people’s emotions. Silver lining, he figured. Means he always knew when the other Pogues were pissed at him without them saying anything, always knew when Rafe was looking for a fight.

Didn’t make having the crap kicked out of him any more enjoyable.

“You think I wasn’t going to find out you stole from me, you stupid boy?” Luke spits his words as if they were venom, standing over JJ who’s clutching his stomach in pain on the floor.

JJ looks up at his father, jaw clenched. “I was helping John B, Dad! I thought you’d be happy I was screwing over the cops! We didn’t know about the storm!”

JJ quickly comes to realise that was the wrong thing to say.

Luke’s eyes are aflame with rage, his stare boring holes into JJ as his dad hoists him up by the front of his shirt and slams him into the wall, fists clenched around the cheap cotton.

“Happy?! Boy, nothing about you makes me happy.”

A punch to JJ’s gut.

“You cost me thousands –“

Another blow, this time to his jaw.

“- spend your life doing fuck all except smoking weed-“

JJ attempts to throw Luke off him but the older man is stronger, despite clearly being drunk out of his mind, and he slams JJ back against the wall, knocking a picture onto the hardwood floor in the process.

“And now you’ve stolen from me, you ungrateful, worthless piece of shit!”

Luke slams his fist into the side of JJ’s head and his father’s red face, contorted with rage, is the last thing JJ sees before he falls, unconscious, onto the floorboards.

When JJ comes to, head pounding, he blinks his eyes open slowly and raises his hand to the side of his face. He brings his fingers away from his cheek shakily, notices they’re sticky with blood, touches his lip gingerly and realises that’s split and swollen too.

JJ grunts and moves to roll onto his back before attempting to get up.

Attempting the operative word, as a searing pain in his side forces him to lay back down briefly, hissing at the pain.

Great, he thinks. He’s really done a number on me this time.

JJ lays there for a few moments, staring up at the slightly dilapidated ceiling of the Chateau, listening for any telltale signs Luke was still in the vicinity. He wouldn’t be surprised if Luke stuck around to lay down another beating but he’s grateful for the silence that confirms he’s been left alone once again.

After a few shaky breaths, JJ finally finds the courage to stand to his feet, wincing at the soreness in his body and making a mental note to find an icepack somewhere in the kitchen. Kiara used to be the one to look after him when he showed up at the Chateau after disappearing for days, her gentle touch calming him more than he liked to admit, soothing his bruises and making him feel like someone gave a shit about him.

JJ swallows thickly. He wishes Kiara was here now.

JJ scoffs at the thought and the feeling of tenderness dissipates as quickly as it appears, replaced by the more familiar feeling of bitterness that rises up like bile.

Resigning to the fact that he won’t see Kiara for a very long time because she doesn’t want to see him (conveniently forgetting that it’s not like she has that much choice in the matter), JJ sighs heavily and makes his way down the hall.

JJ ignores the feeling of complete desperation and confusion as he enters his old, dead friend’s kitchen and opens the fridge, silently praying the cops at least had the decency to leave their beer alone.

For the first time in a few weeks, something’s gone his way and JJ cracks open a Budweiser, letting himself smile ever so slightly.

He’s surprised he remembers how.

--

Drinking alone is never as fun as you think it is.

JJ’s sprawled out on the steps of the porch at 1am, beer bottles surrounding him like a shrine, his Zippo the only form of light in an otherwise unusually dark night.

Suddenly, JJ gets the overwhelming urge to take his bike and ride it across the island to Figure 8.

Never mind that he’s drunk, never mind that he knows he’ll find his way back to places that painfully remind him of his friends, and never mind that by taking the risk of going to the other side of the island he could run into a Kook.

Maybe JJ was looking for a fight tonight.

Before he’s had a chance to think rationally (but when does he ever?), JJ is speeding through the streets of Figure 8, past big Kook houses and Kook golf courses, struggling to keep his bike straight as his vision blurs.

He’s doing reasonably well at staying on the road for someone of his inebriated state, and he’s honestly pretty impressed with himself, enjoying the feeling of the warm wind whipping through his hair.

That is, until he realises he’s going past the Crain house and he sees Rose Cameron’s face on a placard and he’s filled with overwhelming rage and he’s distracted and all of a sudden the bike swerves off the road.

JJ panics and makes a futile attempt to straighten up again, but its too late and he skids off the road and is catapulted into a thicket of trees.

JJ groans and pats himself down, checking that he still has all of his necessary limbs. He breathes deeply and squeezes his eyes shut.

Typical, he thinks.

JJ plans to stay lying on the side of the road for the rest of the night, if he’s honest with himself, before a girl’s voice snaps him out of his reverie.

“You know you’re supposed to keep the bike upright, don’t you?”

JJ opens one eye to see someone, a Kook, standing over him. She’s slender and dressed in a white sundress, the contrast stark against her tanned skin, her dark hair tied back in a braid.

JJ huffs. “What do you care, Kook?”

The girl crouches down and looks at his battered face, wincing. It’s not the usual disdain JJ is used to – he thinks he can actually see some pity reflected in her features.

“You look like shit, what happened?”

“Leave me – wait, do I know you from somewhere?”

--

JJ knows he’s a good friend, but sometimes it feels like he’s loyal to a fault.

That’s how he finds himself in the middle of a Kook nightmare, pressed against rich assholes dressed in designer clothes, all for the annual Midsummers party.

JJ’s walking around the perimeter of the country club, looking over his shoulder for Rafe and his henchmen and cursing John B under his breath for putting himself in this situation in the first place.

He’s needing to pretend to be a waiter, so JJ is absentmindedly picking up empty glasses as he goes, feeling grateful he hasn’t had to speak to someone yet.

That is, of course, until he almost trips over a figure crouched down on the patio.

“Woah, you trying to kill me?”

JJ looks down and sees a girl in a black dress, bending down, her fingers wrapped around the neck of a vodka bottle.

“Can I point out that you’re the one in my way? This is a tripping hazard.”

The brunette girl rolls her eyes and gives JJ the finger, but he can tell its not malicious.

“I’ll make you a deal, Pogue.”

JJ widens his eyes in panic. Cover blown.

The girl chuckles. “I know you’re a Pogue. I’m drunk, not stupid. Plus, don’t think I haven’t seen you around at the boneyard.”

JJ hates that he wants to flirt with her, and he clears his throat. “What’s your deal?”

“I won’t tell the Camerons you’re here, practically committing fraud, and you won’t snitch to the country club that I stole their top shelf vodka to spice up my evening.”

JJ’s mildly impressed. “I guess we’re both criminals,” he replies and moves to walk away, before turning back briefly. “I didn’t catch your name.”

The girl smiled mysteriously. “Unimportant.”

--

“Yeah. You nearly tripped over me at Midsummers,” the girl replies, holding her hand out for JJ to take, which he does, and helps him onto his feet.

JJ attempts to dust himself off. “Do I get to know your name now?”

She smiles. “I’m Scarlett. You’re JJ, right?”

JJ nods. “How’d you know?”

“I know some people that know you, but it’s unimportant. I’m sorry about your friend.”

JJ doesn’t want to talk about John B, least of all with a Kook. “Right, well, I best get going,” he says as he turns towards his bike, dreading the ride back to the Chateau.

Scarlett looks at him incredulously. “You look nasty as fuck.”

“Thanks,” JJ responds bitterly.

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “You didn’t let me finish. Let me take you back to mine, help you clean up a bit.”

Then, sensing the hesitation in JJ, she adds “At least let me give you bandaid or something, and you can do it yourself if you’re so tough.”

JJ figures there’s no harm in using someone’s supplies, especially a Kook’s, and it’s not like he can go home to anyone else.

He shrugs. “Sure, whatever, thanks.”

--

After Scarlett convinces JJ his bike will be just fine hidden at the Crain property (the Camerons have more pressing issues at the moment, Scarlett tells him, her voice catching), they make their way to Scarlett’s house.

It’s the biggest and most impressive house he’s ever been in, and JJ can’t help but feel extremely uncomfortable at the thought of stepping into a Kook’s home.

“Where are your parents?” He asks, as Scarlett rummages around in her drawers for first aid supplies, his arms folded over his chest.

“They’re out,” she replies simply, and brandishes cream and bandaids at him. “Are you going to let me do this for you?”

JJ furrows his brow and snatches the supplies from her outstretched hand.

“I’m good, thanks. I can do it myself.”

Scarlett nods and sits down at the edge of her bed in silence, as JJ clumsily cleans his cuts, face scrunched in pain as it stings. He successfully places the last bandaid and looks at Scarlett, who hasn’t said another word.

“I, uh – thanks, I guess,” JJ says awkwardly, placing his hands in his pockets. “I should go.”

Scarlett looks at her phone at the time, 3:30am, and shakes her head.

“You can stay here, it’s late and I have a feeling you’re not quite up to the ride home.”

JJ panics, eyes wide, and resorts back to guarded defensiveness. “I’m not sleeping here. I don’t even know you.”

Scarlett sighs. “You didn’t seem to have an issue with that when you came home with me. Look, you can sleep on my couch,” she says as she gestures towards the plush couch in the corner of her large bedroom.

JJ huffs. Kooks, he thinks, but he nods reluctantly.

It’s the feeling of overwhelming loneliness, coupled with the fact that someone actually cared about him, that leads JJ to spend the night sleeping on a Kook’s couch.

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[rouiyan]

𝘚𝘐𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘚𝘞𝘌𝘌𝘛 [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

⧏ part of the before i met you collective ⧐

synopsis: "how could i ever say no?"

✧ lee donghyuck x (fem.) reader, best friends to loverz

✧ genres : plotless fluff, tiny angst ✧ word count : 2k ✧ disclaimer : swearing

✧ author’s note — guys, hyuck deadass has my whole heart.

“ahh,” you hold your mouth wide open, eyes never leaving the screen, in the direction of donghyuck who had just returned from the kitchen, snacks in hand. he’s in his usual getup of an oversized hoodie paired with basketball shorts, glasses propped upon the bridge of his nose and a messy flop of hair cascading over it. 

he sighs, “geez, give me a break. i barely just sat down.” he pinches open a bag of spicy potato chips and pops one into his mouth before reaching to get another one for you. you’re clicking furiously and muttering various curses under your breath at the opponent and donghyuck's weak heart can’t help but flutter at how worked up you get every time you fail to land a punch. he’s about to put his hand down and wait for a time when you're not so focused but your mouth snatches at the chip and he almost jumps, his hand fearing consumption.

it takes your absolute all before you finally beat the boss, you eyes almost rolling back into your head and refusing to roll back out because of how exhausted they are. school was about to start, in three days to be exact, and if you didn't finish the game now, well, it was now or never. donghyuck sat by your side, mouth full of greasy potatoes, occasionally sipping from whatever drink he had brought. there was no reason for him to be here, he just insisted that he felt you tended to need some emotional support whenever you gamed, claiming that you were always far too 'out of it' to actually care for yourself. he said, as he always does, that it was his job to care for you. and that held true; no matter if you had a boyfriends at the time or not, donghyuck manged keep his word.

turning to look at him, your breath ragged, you see that his hood is pulled well over his forehead. chuckling, you take a fistful of the front of his sweatshirt and gently yank him towards you while grasping at the material of his hood with your other hand and tugging it back. this action causes his heart to topple and his eyes to stutter wide. your nose is close enough for him to move bare centimeters and place a gentle kiss on it. your lips are close enough for him to move bare millimeters and place a gentle kiss on it. he gulps. this can't be good.

giggling and awfully unaware of your best friend's crush for you growing by the second, you scrunch your nose at him (the very nose he wanted to kiss) and purse your lips, "i wanna see your face, silly." all donghyuck can do is swallow his feelings and instead be left breathless by your side profile. the more rational side of his mind is busy scrambling for a reply that doesn’t make him sound like the lovesick idiot of the century while the more irrational side is left in a blundering mess, bouts of adoration emitting from within. he collects himself and makes sure his countenance doesn't give away his rumbling inner thoughts. “you like what you see?” 

your smile grows fonder, if possible, at his comment but he doesn’t dare to take his eyes from your face just because he knows the little blush that’s to appear. soon enough it blooms across your cheeks and he lovingly coos at the sight while your smile reverses into a small pout. “ugh, so flirty,” he hears your muttered reply although he's unsure if he was meant to. your head is already turned back to the screen after the little exchange and he holds onto it as you press ‘resume,’ replaying it in his head just to see that bright smile and little pout that he could never get sick of.

a few more chips are fed to you while you continue playing, which would be completely fine if not for your incredibly low spice tolerance. it isn't long before donghyuck notices your aggressive hissing that is definitely not from the sight of your character frolicking through a field. he's on the cusp of bringing it to your attention when you abruptly speak between two seethes, "hyuck, get me water please," he immediately moves from his spot to get water from the kitchen when you voice out your struggles once again. "actually, just get me anything. it doesn't matter." 

donghyuck watches as your tongue curls at the tingles and he gauges the severity of the situation. he quickly snatches the drink he'd brought with him, despite knowing you wouldn't like it very much, and brings it up to your lips. you take one, two, three gulps before you turn to look at him with wide eyes. he swears your about to hurl the contents onto him and he winces in preparation but it never comes. you thickly swallow, the liquid almost threatening to bubble up once again, a gag reflex. the spicy sensation is gone but is now replaced by blatant disgust as your mouth hangs open as if you’d been force fed. 

"red bull? hyuck, you're fucking kidding me!"

he bites back a smile as he settles his eye on your disbelieving face, "you said it didn't matter!"

"yeah, i did say that but that's red bull! literal poison!"

"hey, you’re not gonna die from one sip." a smirk is now forming on his face, he feels equally bad and equally good for being the center of your current attention.

"i can't believe you're still drinking that, hyuck." the pout returns and donghyuck silently rejoices, "i thought you said you were cutting back."

he bathes in your eyes for a split second before he simply replies, "i am."

"so what's that?" you eye the can suspiciously, upset that your best friend still succumbs to the unhealthy beverage. 

"it's just a little energy boost, princess. i gotta stay awake to keep you company."

the nickname that accidentally slips past his lips catches the both of you off guard, his cheeks flaming a deeper red with each moment passing. you seem to handle the flustered silence better than he does, even going as far as furthering his state by scooting closer to him and placing both hands on one of his shoulders, propping your chin upon them. he can feel your fresh breath tickle and fan the skin under his ears and he knows that if he just so much turns his head in the slightest, he will be face to face with you in all your glory, without much space in between. he's not sure if he's ready for that.

clearly you don't give a shit because you tilt your head upwards to give him a kiss to the cheek. a soft, billowy kiss that leaves him stuck in that same trance, perpetually. withdrawing, you try poking at his sides to see if his expression will budge from the fazed out gaze he's sporting, but to no avail. "hyuck? are you okay?" he can hear you but he knows he's way too 'out of it' to answer. damn, you were supposed to be the one that was 'out of it.' 

the sudden quietness of the room unsettles you and you're suddenly aware of his reaction. weird, you think, hyuck is never like this. hyuck's always and constantly flirting back and making sure he has the last word. you have an inkling on what this could be about but you almost instantly flush down the idea of bringing it up but it's hard to suppress because your gut instinct tells you that you’re right, that you should go for it. no, he really can’t like you. no, you're just deluding yourself... unless, you're not.

"hyuck," you blurt before you can even stop yourself. his head snaps up at the sound of his nickname. "do you like me?"

where it was previously beating a mile a minute, donghyuck's heart is now at a complete standstill. he can still hear it thumping louder than ever in his ears but he knows there's no way he'll live through this. taking a second to zone out of the whole situation, he notes that your character on the screen is now being mauled by a mob of freakish creatures, though the volume is turned low. he notes how your fingers are absentmindedly drumming on the fabric of your sweats as you usually would when you're nervous and that your blinking more than normal. maybe that was a sign you liked him back? maybe, but surely no. there's a dull ache in his heart that yearns for him to be selfish and just say no. he'd spare the potential loss of your presence by his side and just cope with always being the 'best friend.' but then he thinks of you meeting someone, that's not him, and dating someone, that's not him, and maybe one day even marrying someone, that's not him. he admits that the pain will be far greater than the dull ache he's experiencing now and perhaps that knowledge is exactly what he needs to persuade himself. donghyuck steels his heart because he thinks he's finally found the perfect reasons, the perfect timing, the perfect amount of courage to confess. 

and he also knows that, if this were to go downwards, it might as well be the last time he sees you like this, dressed down in the dead middle of night, hair a tangled yet endearing (or so he thinks) mess, and eyes wide, holding galaxies upon galaxies of stars, none of which could compare to the sheer light you radiate. donghyuck makes sure to revel in your presence, for what could be the very last time, to capture your features, the ones he already has committed to memory. he breathes.

then, without warning, "hyuck…i love you," wait, what?! "hyuck, i love you as more than a friend." your pupils are shaking and there's tears that are unshed but visible. there's so much more that's stuck in your throat refusing to come out but the few words that made it past the threshold of your mouth already say enough. donghyuck expects the grim reaper to appear in a matter of seconds, he expects to be able to detach his spirit from his physically unmoving figure and watch as you say those words over his dead body. any minute now. but the more he sits there the more he realizes that this is real. you are real.

you can feel the emotions building up inside of you while he just stares at you. unmoving, he stares and stares and stares until you think that you've only imagined the last few moments. your crying now and perhaps that's the only things that slaps donghyuck out of his trance. he rushes his arms around you in the most automatic matter. it isn't until your the front of your face soaks the entirety of the front of his hoodie that you feel a little less shitty. your face is smushed flush against his chest and when you finally come to your bearings, you notice his heartbeat contracting erratically on your forehead. emerging from his embrace yet still in his hold, you meet your eyes with his. they're wide and scared, reminding you of just moments ago. 

"i was- i was going to say that, exactly that but i- i guess you beat me to it."

"then... do you wanna be my boyfriend?" i want to be your girlfriend.

"damn it y/n, stop stealing my lines!" can i be your boyfriend?

"is that a no?" just say yes. i want to hear you say yes.

"n- no, yes. i mean no, it's not a no. and yes, i want to be your boyfriend." how could i ever say no?

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

[spinelwritings]

Spinel goes out to run errands for reader but when she returns to the house, she sees that the front door is broken. Spinel runs inside to see that the house has been torn about and finds reader in a room crying and beaten. Reader tells spinel it was a jealous quartz gem that reader dated and broke up with a year before meeting spinel. Spinel wants to get revenge but reader won’t let her. Can I have this as a story? If you can’t, that’s ok.

Spinel didn’t do chores a whole lot. She was sure she would get distracted or mess up or something. On the other hand, you weren’t really feeling well that day and she knew you didn’t want to go out yourself. So, she went to do your errands for you, leaving a kiss on your forehead before she went out the door.

It took a bit longer than she wanted. She messed up a few of the groceries but she figured it out eventually! So, an hour or two later, she was on her way back to you, already excited to see you again.

She knew something was wrong the moment she got home. The front door was open, hanging crooked on its hinges. It felt like a stone dropped in her gut. Her steps forward were hesitant, the door creaking open.

“Y/N?” Spinel called, her voice wavering. The living room wasn’t in good shape. The couch was flipped over, the coffee table was broken in half and there were a few good-sized holes in the wall. She dropped the groceries at the door, rushing through the house to try and find you. The panic almost hurt, the dread overwhelming. She had no idea what she would find, she just hoped she would find you.

You were in the bedroom. Spinel could just make out your form under the pile of blankets you usually slept under. She could just make out the faintest of sniffles and whimpers. 

“Y/N?” She called again, a little quieter than before. The blanket’s shifted and you groaned but didn’t come out.

“S-Spinel?”

You sounded absolutely terrified like you expected it to be someone else. Spinel tiptoed across the room to you, shifting the blankets away till she could see your face. She felt like her gem would crack.

You looked terrible. Your lip was split open, dried blood dripping down your chin. A dark, ugly-looking bruise covered almost half of your face and even more dried blood matting your hair. You looked like you had been beaten nearly to death. But the worst part was the absolute terror in your eyes, like you had gone through hell and expected to see that demon come back to torture her some more. How could this happen? She had been gone for less than two hours!

She bent down, kneeling next to the bed and gently rubbing a trail of tears of your bruised cheek. As you stared deep into her eyes whatever fear you felt slowly vanished, dissipating into the comfort her presence alone gave you. 

She didn’t ask what happened. Now wasn’t the time. Your safety and health was far more important. She called Steven. 

When he came into the house his eyes went wide, looking over the extensive damage. Spinel met him at the door, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the bedroom. You were sitting up now, the blankets drawn close to your body. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was underneath, just how bad it was. She couldn’t take the thought of more bruises, broken bones, scratches, and scrapes. She didn’t want to face how hurt you must be. You were going to be better soon anyway. 

Spinel sat with you in the bed, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and looking at Steven with pleading eyes. You sighed when he kissed your forehead, the unbearable pain melting away as bruises faded, cuts closed, and bones reconnected. You were left slumped against the gem, completely wiped out after the ordeal you had gone through. Spinel may not know what happened she knew you should probably get some rest. She lowered you down, drawing the blankets up to your chin and giving you a peck on the cheek.

“Go to sleep, love. We can talk about this later.”

You nodded, quickly falling into the blackness of slumber.

Spinel led Steven out of the room, closing the door slowly behind her with a final loud click. She sighed, her forehead meeting the wood of the door as she fought off the tears. 

“Did she say what happened?” Steven asked. Spinel just shook her head.

--------------------------------------------

When you woke up, for a moment, it felt like nothing had happened. It felt like you were just waking up from a nice nap, the late afternoon sun warming your body under your soft blankets. You stretched and yawned, slowly waking up, trying to remember what you were up to. Something important had happened or there was something important you had to do. What was it again? In the distance you heard someone moving and froze, your body going rigid as the panic-filled your mind. 

You calmed down a few moments later when you heard Spinel’s voice, mumbling to herself. Right. Now you remembered. You needed to tell her what happened. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. Not yet. Just … just a little longer, another moment of peace. When you did finally get out of bed you weren’t even really thinking. You just needed to get this done.

Spinel was in the living room, picking up the last pieces of splintered wood. The room was almost empty now, the only thing not damaged being the couch. She looked up when you came in and was by your side in an instant, fussing over you like she always did, insisting you should sit. You didn’t say anything, just nodded and let her drag you to the couch.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Of course, you couldn’t do that. Didn’t even allow the thought for a moment.

You snuggled close to her side and she wrapped her arms around you as you told her what happened, or at least what you remembered. 

She knew you had dated another gem once before, Citrine. But you broke up with her because of how aggressive she was getting. You had met Spinel a few weeks later and thought that was that. You didn’t expect her to be at your door, almost a year or something after the breakup, but that’s what happened. You heard a knock at the door and when you opened it, Citrine was there, looking absolutely furious.

She had shoved past you, voice low as she huffed and asked you to take her back. She wasn’t really that bad of a person, really! And the two of you had something special and she loved you and this was a mistake and. You were shaking your head, waiting for her to stop. You had learned a long time ago that once she started in a rant like that nothing would stop her.

When she did stop you told her no. You’re already with someone else and much happier. There was no chance.

That’s when she started yelling, she worked herself up until she started punching the wall and throwing furniture. You begged her to stop and for a moment she did, glaring at you with burning eyes. That’s when she turned her anger onto you.

You stopped there, gripping onto Spinel’s shirt. Thankfully she didn’t force you to continue. You really didn’t want to remember. For a few moments, the two of you sat there in silence. You tried to calm down and not cry. You were failing at the not crying part. The tears fell onto your cheeks regardless

When you finally calmed down you looked up to Spinel. She wasn’t looking at you but you could still see the anger in her eyes. She was never really that good at hiding her emotions, even if she didn’t want you to know how she was feeling. You sighed.

“Promise me you’re not going to do something stupid.”

Spinel blinked down at you.

“I can’t promise anything.”

You glared at her, giving that look until she sighed. 

“Fine, I’ll… do my best not to do something stupid.”

“That’s the best I can hope for, isn’t it?” You sighed. “It’ll have to do.”

Spinel hugged you tighter, burying her face into your hair. You sighed, leaning into her. This was all you needed right now. You could worry about everything else later. You just wanted to be with her.

[zertzertzhang]

Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, and taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

:

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Chapter One: Hellhole

The divorce shattered the Yang family to pieces. Vianne was no stranger to her mother’s scorn for her father, even at a young age. There were countless nights of screaming from Mrs. Yang, coupled with the frustrated curses her father threw in return. At one point, she was sure she heard plates crashing against the walls, but by the time she pumped up the courage to go check the next day, everything had been neatly restored. It was like the fight never took place.

Vianne was not stupid; the traces of her parent’s clashing were found in their silence. It was the harsh clatter of silverware against the bowls during dinner which reminded her that despite the calm nature of the family evenings, rage was just seconds from spilling onto the streets. Their house had just enough bearings to keep authorities from pounding the door on a weekly basis.

There wasn’t much left to solidify the hate between the spouses of the Yang household. By the time Vianne’s father suggested giving her a sibling to help bring her mother back, even she knew that it was a futile attempt to play house a little longer.

But to Vianne’s dismay, her mother agreed. Within months, blue paint littered around the spare bedroom in a massive heap, threatening to swallow the couple whole. Vianne didn’t react much when she realized a brother was coming her way, the increased shouting from Mrs. Yang frightened her as the due date neared. Her father would grumble incessantly about his wife’s mood swings and how that was what men got for marrying.  

All of that was lost to Vianne; she was too young to comprehend full sentences, much less understand the hidden meaning behind her father’s statement. Maybe her brother would make her mother happy for once. She could envision her father playing with her in the fields as her mother and her brother sat on picnic mats to the side. They would be laughing just like how it used to be. Vianne wouldn’t have to stay awake, pressing her ears against the doors as more kitchenwares were broken. There would finally be peace...

Her mother’s eyes held the warmth of motherhood for no longer than a few seconds before the cold hollow overtook them again.

Peace never came. What happened in its stead was her brother screeching from his crib, all the while as her parents shrieked at one another over changing diapers. It made Vianne’s head split with thunderous agony. She never wanted to yell this badly, to make them just hug each other for once and stop talking. But such thoughts happened in her mind only. And before she knew it, they were back to throwing pots against the wall.

That lasted however long she remembered. Then came the papers, and she soon found herself holding baby Jack in her arms as her aunt ushered her into a stranger’s car. They said they would be taking care of them for a while. It dawned on Vianne that this was her first time meeting her mother’s family. There was no such thing as a happy reunion in this household.

She didn’t get to see her father after that, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to anyway. Not when the last thing she saw him doing was spitting onto her mother’s face as he tried to stop her from stepping out the door. No one knew that Vianne hid under the covers to cry herself to sleep once she settled in her new home.

And thus, Mrs. Yang became Ms. Lin once more. But for legal reasons, Vianne and Jack’s surname stayed. The minor details flew over her head; Vianne didn’t put much care on the subject. In the long run, the privilege to listen to the crickets chirp at night was enough to keep her satisfied.

That’s how things went for a while, with the emotional charge from her mother coming down for once in a long time. It wasn’t a surprise when Ms. Lin began going out all dolled up and pretty. The scent of her Saint Laurent eau de parfum clung to her skin as she whisked past the older Vianne. The girl felt a twist in her gut; she didn’t want to smell the hints of cologne her mother brought back after every weekend. However, she kept her mouth shut.

Ms. Lin didn’t hold back on her monetary needs. Thank god her salary as a lawyer cushioned their lifestyle. Despite being a single parent, her income had left a spacious room for extra spending. A shopping trip once a month was guaranteed, and that was when Vianne saw her mother at her very best. Talkative and cheery, Ms. Lin wasted no time in purchasing the latest trench-coats from Burberry as she gushed over how cute it looked on Vianne.

Something about her giggling mother put her at ease. The punching of the credit card’s number sent a rush of high in her blood, which only increased with Ms. Lin’s blabbering praise of how beautiful she looked in the mirror. She was well-fed and well-clothed; Vianne figured that there had to be a trade off somewhere. Not everything could be given, so she happily accepted the allowance. It was the closest she’d ever get to having her mother smother her in a crushing hug.

School was another topic. No doubt she was expected to do well in it; Vianne was sure her college expenses would be covered as well once she got to it. So she put the worry on that to the side as well. Her social life at school was decent, with her own clique of Asian Americans making up most of her friend group. It was genuinely a decent life for her, and for a moment, she thought this was going to be her forever.

Until it was news to her that her current school was going to be a thing of the past. Ms. Lin had become engaged to one of her former clients. Vianne was near her senior year of high school when her mother broke the news to her.

“Scott has a family of his own,” Ms. Lin explained. “His children are having a difficult time accepting us.”

Vianne lost her appetite and tossed her dinner down the dump. Her brain refused to tell her how to react, so her first response was denial. She wasn’t interested in a second dad or a second family, this was her happy medium. Besides, she still had Jack, so there wasn’t any long-term loneliness. Why was her mother complicating things?! What the hell?

“I don’t see how it’s our problem.” She tried to keep her voice cool, but the hint of frustration leaked nonetheless.

Her mother looked almost ashamed. Almost. “I’ll be moving in with Scott next week, Vianne. It’s to help his children get used to the new family members.”

The pause after the statement didn’t help the rising anxiety within Vianne. Her fingers clenched around the fork, digging the metal utensil into her soft skin so much that it stung. There was a catch to that announcement, she could feel it.

“What about me?” she asked. “What about Jack?”

Ms. Lin sucked in a breath, drumming her fingers on the mahogany table in a frenzy. And from experience, that only meant bad news. “Scott lives in the Bay Area. It’s too far away from Napa for me to come visit constantly if you stay. So I’ve decided to have you move back with your father.”

The world came undone from below and swallowed Vianne whole. Her mind was a blank sheet of paper, with no idea how to respond. It had been a decade of little to no contact with Mr. Yang, and the sudden contact with him was not going to lead to a happy talk over a cup of coffee. This was fucking ridiculous.

“You said you’d never let him see us again.” Her retort sounded irrelevant at worst, and petty at best. Not that this was going to change her mother’s engagement.

And sure enough, it wasn’t. Ms. Lin gave an exasperated sigh and pinched her nose. The shake of her head reminded Vianne of the way she would scold her when she was a child.

“Your father is doing better now. He’s…different,” her mother tried. “He’s simply not living in the best places out there. But that’s ok! You won’t stay there after graduation, and after you go to college, you’ll be coming back to Scott and me over breaks.”

Vianne could hear the blood in her ears bubbling like an overboiled teapot. “I don’t even know Scott that well, mom! How am I supposed to be his new family after you settle in?!”

The matriarch rolled her eyes at the scene, clearly not taking her daughter’s response well. “It’s a work in progress. I’ll make sure to bring them to you every once in a while to let them get comfortable. That’s why I’m moving in first.”

Her reasoning failed to get past Vianne’s anger, spurring her on. “So you’re just gonna dump us in LA with dad so you can live your comfy life?!”

That comment seemed to be the final nail onto the coffin, as Ms. Lin’s frown turned to a scowl in seconds. “I’m not dumping you anywhere, Vianne. It’s only going to be a year, and your allowance is staying the same! So stop being dramatic.”

Her mother’s cold gaze bore into her mind, freezing her in her tracks. It would serve both of them better if she conceded right there. Once her mother came to a decision, she was like an ox in the middle of a fight. There was no arguing out of this situation. The friends she had and the memories she made in Napa were now pipedreams wrapped up in a dusky alley. Her failure to even voice her opinions squeezed her lungs tight with perturbation.

The familiar pounding headache cursed her forehead, making her wince. Vianne had the sudden urge to smash plates just like her mother had done before. But she didn’t need a grounding on top of everything else, so she settled with pulling her lips back into a painful grin.

“What's the name of the school?” She expected her mother to answer that at least. Donning an air of nonchalance, Vianne tried to appear as unbothered as she could. The trembling of her hands were the only markers of betrayal. If Ms. Lin noticed her plight, then she took no interest in it. Her mother reached for a brown packet and tore it open.

A stack of papers slid out of the package, with the name ‘J.A. Garfield High School’ printed in bold fonts in the front page. It was her transfer letter.

Ms. Lin took a sip of her red wine before she continued her trail of thought. “I’ve given them your transcripts and coursework history already. You’ll be admitted in the second semester.”

“You’re really sending me to the ghetto.” Vianne felt the veins in her head pop. Quickly scouring through the papers, she came across her schedule. There was no AP Biology on the list, and there was definitely no AP BC Calculus on it either. In their places was a section marked as ‘Teaching Assistant’. And that was enough to send her ticking with rage.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” This time, she didn’t bother to hide her fury. “Why did they drop my classes?!”

Slamming the files down so hard that the china rattled, the young woman seethed as she stared her mother down. Ms. Lin wasn’t having any of it either, her fingers gripping the wine glass had turned pale with the increased pressure.

“The school doesn’t have AP courses, Vianne. They’re offering full credits for your two AP classes as compensation.”

The words that came out of her mother’s mouth stunned Vianne into silence. Graduation credits were worth nothing to her in college, this had to be some sick joke.

“What about my AP tests next year?” she hammered. “How am I supposed to take the tests without taking the classes?!” Her complaints were like flies buzzing around an agitated human. Ms. Lin simply waved them off without a second glance, as if her worries were nothing but unnecessary trivialities in life.

“You’re smart, sweetheart. You can study for them by yourself.” Her mother threw out the response like it was the obvious solution to her problem. “There’ll be more than enough spare time in your hands to bury yourself in books.”

Vianne quirked a brow. “Why?”

Ms. Lin actually smiled. But behind it were the vestiges of an arrogant smirk threatening to show itself to the surface. “Their coursework is basically non-existent. The catalogs are dated, and the materials are easy enough to be mistaken for a middle schooler’s level. You’ll have no trouble boosting your GPA up and acing your tests.”

If pride was a thing in her family, then it was going out the window. Vianne couldn’t believe her ears, nor could she stomach the sight of the letters. At this level, she might as well turn herself to a thirteen-year-old and go back to primary school. All her hard work was about to go up in flames because of that ghetto school. Hot tears rimmed along her eyes, sending her into a vortex of despair once more.

There wasn’t enough time to say goodbye to her friends; Kimberly’s birthday was in two weeks, and the whole group had a surprise beach trip planned out. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Mountains of projects she had been dedicated to simply poofed into air. Her hands clenched at the sides, doing their best to contain the urge to hit something.

The shifting of bodies alerted her of her mother’s departure from the living room; Ms. Lin was already up the stairs by the time Vianne shook herself back to reality. She looked over to the stove and was struck by the time it displayed on the counter. It was way too late into the early mornings.

“Your flights depart in two days.” The voice of her mother was drifting away into the distance. Their hollow vibrations from the hall sent her stomach dropping to the floor. “You should start packing soon, Vianne.”

That was the end of the conversation. It was made clear with the slam of Ms. Lin’s bedroom door, rattling its hinges. Neither of them were in the state to argue, and she knew it. Standing alone by the dining table, Vianne sniffled. Her nose was unbearably stuffy in addition to the increasing sting in her eyes.

She didn’t catch a wink of sleep that night.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LAX was the definition of a madhouse. People shouted in all kinds of languages, deafening her ears and making Jack whimper on her side. Vianne held her brother close as she shoved their way through the gates of their section. The crowded mass on top of her migraine was slowly inching her towards a mental breakdown. After hauling off the last of her luggages from baggage claim, she ushered Jack to the main exit of the airport.

She knew she hadn't seen her father’s face in years, and the dreadful thought of not recognizing their only ticket out settled within her gut. Panic palpated in her heart as they came out of the building, with the sea of people not helping in the slightest.

Mr. Yang was next to unrecognizable when Vianne saw the massive sign with her name blaring in red. He looked different, much different than before. But then again, her seven-year-old perspective wasn’t all that trustworthy either. The face of her father hit her like a cold splash of water, and she found herself failing to greet him with the simplest ‘hello’. She merely stared at the balding man,  unable to tear her eyes away from the beerbelly and narrowed eyes. Her father was a stranger to her, and it was then she realized that Jack had never even met their father.

Her brother scooted away from Mr. Yang when the man approached them, looking up to her with his teary gaze. Jack looked like he wanted to burst into a wailing fit. It was going to be a long ride back.

Heavy silence filled the car throughout the ride to her new home. Mr. Yang asked about her health and her school life, repeating the same questions he wrote to her weeks ago. Vianne kept the answers simple and precise, nodding and smiling to make it seem like she was engaged.

Jack, on the other hand, fidgeted endlessly in his seat in the back, looking anywhere but the front of the driver’s seat. The introduction between father and son was awkward to say the least. Vianne was just happy that they were now on their way to get the year over with. She clutched the phonebook in her pockets, memorizing all her friends’ numbers. It took her mind off things, if that was a positive note.

There could never be enough distractions for her, especially now that the three of them were stuck in the worst possible position. As if whatever deity in the heavens wanted to lay more unto the cruel joke, Vianne shook from her revere and noticed the selection of houses they were approaching.

Rundown and abandoned were the least of her worries. The neighborhood was like the cardboard cutout from a horror magazine. Desecrated with graffitis and empty beer cans, the streets were littered with grime and dust. It was obvious the town duster wasn’t a frequent worker there. And was that a person sitting on the roof of a car?!

Vianne’s eyes bulged as she squinted at the flailing man on top of a red Chevrolet. Men donned in tall hats paraded the city roads like they owned the place, causing a line of angry drivers honking at the ruckus. The pounding headache intensified at the sight, and she grumbled a string of curses to herself.

“Monterey Park is a lot better,” Mr. Yang spoke out of nowhere. “We’re gonna be away from these dirty shitbags.”

She flinched at the harsh edge of his voice, but didn’t say anything. By the crinkled lines between his brows and the frown on his lips, her father wasn’t in the mood for a good-natured chat. It was better that way, Vianne herself could feel her spirits waning with each mile.

The trio reached a small neighborhood in no time, and to her relief, it looked miles better than the houses she previously saw. The structures still retained the brittle fragility in appearance, but the paintings were even this time. And the lawns appeared to be taken cared of as well. Vianne felt the corners of her lip tug up in a hopeful smile.

But like any other good news, it was crushed to dust as soon as it presented itself. Her father didn’t use his keys to unlock the door. Instead, it swung open on its own accord, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and leopard-printed blouse. Vianne’s mind jumped to the worst possible scenario, jumping back a good distance. The young woman stared at the fresh face for what felt like a long time, before the coughing from Mr. Yang pulled her from the staring contest.

“Clara, they’re my children; Vianne and Jack.” Her father’s gruff voice held her to the ground. Gesturing to the women next, he continued to speak. “Vianne, Jack, this is Clara. She’s my girlfriend.”

Despite him being this close to the two women, Mr. Yang was oblivious to the scowl that now stretched across his daughter’s face. Vianne put two and two together and realized why her mother refused to share too much of her father’s living situation. There was no way in hell she would have agreed to come had she knew of this beforehand. Her living arrangements were fucked up to no end, and for a moment, she contemplated ringing her mother on the spot.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Clara didn’t move from her position. She gave the two newcomers a pitying look, but her lips turned up to a smirk. “I’ve heard a lot about y’all.”

Jack stared at Vianne, lips pouting in morbid curiosity. The older sibling sighed and rolled her eyes; she was getting worked up over nothing. They only had to stay here for another year till graduation, so she reckoned she would find a way to grin and bear it.

“There are rules to this household.” Her father wasted no time in listing the regulations under his roof. “You won’t be able to run amok like ya did with your mother here. First, Clara is to be respected at all times.”

Mr. Yang was blind to the seething glare Vianne threw him as she unpacked her bags across the room. It was one thing to be forced to live under these conditions, but it was a totally different thing to be mandated around by a stranger who she detested. A biting remark made its way to her tongue, but was cut short by his rambling speech.

“Curfew is 6 pm sharp. No loitering around the streets after the sun goes down,” he continued. “No boys are allowed, and there will be no parties here.”

No one, and she meant no one, told her when she got to come home. The last time her mother set her a curfew was in middle school. And it was definitely not at that time either. She wasn’t interested in dating anyone from this neighborhood, much less bringing a boy back home. Parties were out of the question, Vianne had already made up her mind that she was going to burrow herself for a year before she dipped.

“I’ll stay out as much as I want.” It was a crisp retort, and she turned up her nose. “My car will be here in a few days. I’ll be fine.”

Mr. Yang’s nose flared at the comment. His eyes darkened, reminding her of the way he used to look at her mother. She didn’t voice it, but the familiar shivers ran down her spine. Avoiding his gazem Vianne took a sudden interest in the rings on her fingers.

“This ain’t Napa County, Vianne.” Her father’s hand shook. “You’ll be down in the dirt in no time if you don’t adapt to the people here.”

She ignored his statement and pulled out her luggage of clothes. Everyone knew of the nature of the ghetto people there. That was the reason she brought her car. Whatever it was, Vianne wasn’t going to touch them with a ten-foot pole.

 “Whatever,” she mumbled. Sensing her displeasure in the conversation, Mr. Yang grumbled something about women, before throwing a stack of notebooks onto her bed. Vianne glanced at them, but made no attempt to retrieve the papers.

“These are the course intros for tomorrow.” Her father was opening a can of beer as he eyed her. “You and Jack are waking up at 7. No negotiations.”

“Sure, sure.” There was no reason to get into a fight, and she thought it was wise to choose her battles. A curt nod was all she gave him, before she slipped past her father to go find Jack. There was still time to brood over her state of affairs.

Time always flew when you were either panicking or on cloud nine. That would be the second night of the week where she didn’t get to sleep. Her eyes trailed to the calendar; today was her first day of school.

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A/N: Sorry for the slow start! Juicy drama picks up in the next chapter! Reviews, criticism, and comments are welcome :3

And here's a shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for inspiring and helping me write this out!